Dismembered Corpses – and a Cauldron

After the perils of the last night, my friends fell asleep in but an instant while I kept watch for what remained of the night and into the morning. Around noon the fog from the bog had begun to recede and I started to prepare a simple salad and seared some rabbit we had caught on our way into the swamp to present the others with a hearty breakfast.
Once everyone was satisfied, we agreed that we had to take our chance and look for the missing mushroom forager in the faint hope that she still was alive. It was without question that whatever had taken her appearance last night was not what it pretended to be. Teynos was the first to utter the word hag, which sent a shudder down all our spines. We all had heard stories about these wicked witches, and none of them good. Any further contemplations however were abruptly interrupted by Teynos writhing as in sharp pain and grasping the side where the supposed hag’s claws had dug into his body. It stopped as fast as it came but upon inspection of the former wounds and his overall condition, Kyla was not able to determine a source for this agony. Usually, her magical healing was able to prevent any lingering effects. As the notion was gone in an instant, there was no further examination she could undertake to help him for the moment, and he seemed fine and eager to go on.
However, while he was sitting before her, Kyla quite intensively tried to explain to Teynos that he sometimes appeared to be putting himself deliberately in dangerous situations or was a little ignorant to the dangers perusing the world around him. His direct and carefree ways were very different from how most people went through life yet with her in particular, as a servant to the Raven Queen and thereby death and to a certain extent fate, it seemed to not sit well that someone would toy with life in such a way. Teynos explanation for his brief moment of pain was the breakfast that would not sit well with him although I was very convinced that there could have been nothing wrong with it, the meat being only a day old. But he insisted on this conclusion and to not lose more daylight we decided to finish that discussion another time and instead head towards the swamp, taking care to continue collecting plants along the way.
 
The day before, Archie and Teynos had found some tracks of what might have been Lyra. They led us to the place and from there collectively we managed to follow the trail deeper into the swamp. The ground under our feet grew more and more treacherous making our advance increasingly difficult. After what must have been a good two miles, it became so dangerous that Grum told us to chew on a few herbs he pulled out of his pouch while he muttered a few words, uncorked a small dark bottle with some strong-smelling alcohol, downed its contents and slowly burned the cork between two fingers. As the last fibres were reduced to ash, our feet suddenly were pushed some finger widths out of the muck we stood in until we stood as if on a paved road in the middle of the marshland. Grum explained that this should repel water from our feet for a while which significantly improved our pace. My old friend is full of surprises!
The trail led to a clearing, surrounded by four gnarled and ancient looking trees. Numerous mushrooms were growing all around us. And at one edge we saw a wicker basket laying on its side and a small knife on the ground next to it. A lock of snow-white hair clung to one of the wickers. The only type of hag we had heard about living this deep in a swamp would be green hags although we knew next to nothing about them. The only hags, Nysqwen had heard tales about were sea hags, feared by any sailor as encounters usually ended with large amounts of the crew dead. With the lock of hair in our possession, Grum transformed into the familiar shape of a dire wolf, picking up its scent and leading us for the next stretch of our journey.
 
The further we went, the thicker the vegetation around us grew. Large ferns, crooked trees and dark thickets seemed to encroach from all around us. A mind of its own, as was soon proven by a tendril that tried to grasp for Archie’s foot which he luckily could pull away just in time. Teynos noted that the trees around us seemed to all have horribly twisted faces. Their branches and twigs stretched out like arms and long fingers that appeared to be grabbing for the unlucky travellers in these regions. And over everything this oppressing silence.
After some time, we came upon a place where the fog was almost impossibly condensed. Like a white wall it stood before us, our sight fully obscured after but a pace. Adjusting his goggles, Archie could identify this fog as being definitely necromantic in nature which of course only furthered our unease. In the meantime, Grum had rummaged through his bag to find some dried tobacco and started to light his pipe. Strangely, what usually is a rather relaxing business resulted in him laying his brow in wrinkles as if in extreme concentration. As he exhaled, it became clear why. Wherever the smoke collided with the fog, it seemed to almost devour the water droplets until, stretching around Grum and his pipe, there formed what can only be described as a hole in the wall. He indicated us to follow him as he cleared a path for us through this terrifying haze.
 
Even with Grum’s impressive feat, our vision was limited to a few feet ahead at any given time. Throughout our travels, we were attacked by strange vines that tried to wrap around their victims to drag them into the fog, which, as we now had to find out, burned terribly upon inhaling and seemed definitely toxic. Only with the combined effort of those that could dodge the entanglement were we able to free ourselves every time without spending too many resources, not knowing what might await us at the end of this passage. Teynos kept having these bouts from time to time. Worried, Kyla looked after him but could not find any physical origin.
It must have been hours of these tribulations ‘ere we finally emerged from the fog. Time had lost all meaning in the constantly dim fog and thus we were somewhat surprised to see that dusk was already upon us. A single trail cut through the mire in front of us, hemmed by more gnarly trees, some bushes and eerie torches. A couple of dozen paces ahead loomed stone formations over the bog, on top of which the silhouette of a large house could be seen against the pale moonlight. On a second boulder an ancient tree was covered in what looked like white moths. And there, next to that tree a green-skinned woman with snow-white hair was crouched over some crates, bathed in torchlight. The door to the house opened and a second figure emerged, very similar in appearance to the first. If old-wife’s tales can be believed, if you ever meet a hag and she is not alone, you are unfortunate enough to have met a coven of mostly three witches and you can say goodbye to your soul (and your life obviously).
As we stood whispering how we might proceed, I had a sudden idea. What if we could turn those hags against each other? If the stories were true, these creatures are notoriously mistrusting and selfish. Maybe the right word at the right time with some help of the Mother of Magic could tip the balance from begrudging cooperation to chaotic destruction. As a few times before, I hummed a small melody and made myself vanish from sight. Thus disguised I approached the rock formation. As I climbed the stairs leading up towards the house, my cursed hoof caught on something and gave the slightest of sounds. Yet it was heard by at least one of the witches whose head spun around and much to my horror, she seemed to look right at me as a grin curled around over her wrinkled face. In a change of plans I attempted to distract the two visible women with hypnosis but the one staring at me wiped with her hand through the air and countered my incantation. This terrible smile of a vulture playing with its pray surely will hunt my dreams for the next few days. Rushing for cover as I heard my friends come up behind me, I ducked into the house. The interior was split roughly in two parts by wooden walls, the passageway to a large extend occupied by a pentagram. Before I could move any further, a door to the south opened and a third, even older looking woman appeared, saw me and broke into a similar grin as her companion as she locked me in place. The spell prevented me from so much as shouting for my friends who I still heard running up.
Teynos was the first to enter, followed by Nysqwen, and together they went straight for the attack. One of the other hags entered through a second door, the third likely busy with Archie, Grum and Kyla. The older hag managed to curse Nysqwen with some sort of terror that made her recoil from the woman before she ran out the door she had come from, followed by Teynos. I managed to shake out of my stupor and release Nysqwen from her predicament right as Grum in the shape of a huge bear entered the hovel behind us. He dashed straight through the pentagram on the floor, from which its runes began to shimmer, but no discernible effect took place. Shouts and bangs from outside bore witness of the fray Archie, Kyla and the third witch were having.
In rapid succession, spells, blades, and claws cut through the air as the ruthless fight took its course. The old hag had re-entered the building, no sign of Teynos anywhere. I managed to silence the women for a brief moment, giving us a small pause from their magical onslaught. But one of them managed to land a crucial hit on Grum and Kyla with a horizontal beam of concentrated lightning, leaving Grum still on the ground. With the dwarf on the ground, Kyla gravely wounded and Teynos lost from sight, the battle seemed almost lost. Yet somehow, with whatever force we could muster, we fought back. Kyla managed to heal Grum and Nysqwen and send her spiritual mace after the oldest hag. Suddenly Teynos came back into the house, rubbing his eyes but immediately dealing hefty punches to the women. Archie and Ori held the outside, throwing fire and thunder at our foes and they managed to collapse one of the wooden bridges connecting the rock formations. Kyla’s spiritual weapon managed to land a fatal blow on the old hag which ultimately turned the tides in our favour. After a few more hard-fought heartbeats it was over, and the three lifeless bodies of the witches lay on the ground at our feet.
 
Heavily breathing, bloodied and bruised, but victorious we gathered on the largest rock, leaning our backs against the wall of the shack where Kyla thankfully endowed us with the healing power of her goddess. I told the others what had happened once I approached the house to potentially avoid such a dire fight. As Archie heard that the witches had been practically awaiting us, he explained he had read once that certain magics would allow the wielder to scry on objects or creatures over long distances. And just as he said it, he realised that this might explain the strange cramps, Teynos had experienced on occasion throughout the day. Indeed, the half-orc said that he felt a bit as if something had been lifted from him, the moment the last hag fell.
Now it was time to search through the hags’ nest for any signs of Lyra or perhaps other poor wanderers that ended up as their prey. The entire structure was spread out over three of the largest rock formations, interconnected via these simple wooden bridges. The largest boulder was occupied mostly by the house we had fought in, the southernmost carried another, smaller hovel. On the third we found a few crates and bloodied, slightly rusted cages next to the moth-covered tree. In the centre stood a stone altar on top of which the ghastly sight of a head greeted us, fitting with the description we were given of the mushroom forager. Around the stone slab we found two legs and a torso but no arms. All our stomachs turned at this gruesome picture and it would not get much better throughout the rest of the hideout. The rune circle in the main house seemed to have been some kind of magical trap that was expended now and only did not affect Grum when he ran through it due to his bear shape. Other than that, we found an alchemy table and matching utensils, various bowls with a thick red liquid (yes, blood) a small skeleton with a decorated knife next to it on a second altar and some supplies.
I took to a closer inspection of the corpses of the hags and found them adorned with some bone jewellery and a golden bracelet, the latter of which I carefully removed. The oldest hag wore a necklace of finger bones from which dangled a small key that I also took with me, as well as a ring in which a stylised shield was engraved. Kyla proposed to cut off their heads and bring them with us as proof of what had transpired here after what happened to us after our fight with the hill giant (whom we lovingly had dubbed Tom). Although this seemed somewhat barbaric, the practicality of this act could not be denied. Very fittingly, Nysqwen was more than happy to undertake the chopping part. Meanwhile, Archie had found a strange silver chain in the main house: Its pendant was a seemingly real closed human eye. He decided to take it with us for closer inspection but let his small mechanical hand do the up-picking and carrying. Kyla, after inspection of the altars, mentioned that she had heard about certain cultures known for making blood offerings, but she was unable to recognise to what purpose such sacrifices were made here. She mused it must have had something to do with their belief or some sort of pact but whatever it was it was probably for the best that it ended now.
In the second, smaller house, we were greeted by more blood and a horrible stench of decay and alchemy. Two arms lay on two different tables, various incisions covering every inch of skin. The interior was lit by a now dimming green flame that burned in a small brazier at one side. Shrunken heads were dangling from the ceiling giving us a rough idea of what would have been the eventual fate of Lyra’s remains. A large kettle stood on the floor, to our surprise Archie declared that it was enchanted in some way, he would need some more time and a less horrible atmosphere to figure out what was going on with that. Finally, under a table we found a small, locked chest that opened with the key I had taken from the witches. Inside we found next to a good sum of coinage two gems, a spinel and a tourmaline, a few flasks, one of which contained a potion of deeper red than the healing potions we had encountered so far, another held a very cold liquid in which swam what looked like an enormous fingernail. Archie was able to identify those as a potion of superior healing, far more potent than the versions we had encountered thus far, while the other was a potion of frost giant strength. Tucked in one corner of the box we found a plain wooden ring. Its width matched an imprint on one of the hands lying on the tables and thus we surmised it might be Lyra’s and could help her family to confirm the remains we found were indeed hers.
Silently, Kyla went ahead with the gloomy task of gathering all the limbs, the torso and the head of the poor forager, and made to burn them to spare her brothers the gruesome sight. We would take her ashes with us to bury as her family saw fit. For the other skeletons we dug shallow graves while ravens already feasted upon the corpses of the hags which Kyla acknowledged with a grim smile that stretched only over her mouth. After all the burial and incarceration rites were complete, Kyla went to let her frustration out against the altars and smashed them to pebbles with her light-bringer. We others gathered what dry wood we could find and mainly Archie and Ori send firebolts against the houses to burn every bit that would remind of the horrible former denizens of this forsaken place to ash. As the flames took hold, we looked around for the first time since our arrival. The moon was high in the sky, it was well past midnight. But to our relief the fog was gone, which would make our way back less arduous than our approach. I let the others walk ahead for a few moments, slowly running my hand through the bright yellow flames, deeply lost in thought over the past two days, contemplating the strange familiarity with the flames.
 
It took us quite a while but eventually we emerged from the swamp onto drier ground where we collapsed exhaustedly and made camp for the rest of the night. As I had feared before, my dreams were haunted by the events of the day, getting lost in endless fog, drowning in muddy water and that horrible smile on the witch’s face. But even more terrifying were the horribly mutilated, dismembered corpses, as instead of Lyra I stood over Camp, Dedash, Wolzira and Vivis, their eyes filled with pain and judgement. Where are you, my friends? What god-forsaken fate has befallen you all? Are you even still alive? Once this rat plague is dealt with, I must find you! If I am still alive and on this plane that is…Will my new friends help me in this matter? That might depend on how they take what eventually must be revealed. Although I am fairly sure I can count on Grum, it is hard to say for the rest of them.
 
The next morning was spent mostly with exploring what we had managed to drag from the witches’ abode. Archie spread all the different items in the grass before him, set up his toolkit and donned the complicated lens apparatus he utilised for his identification procedure. The ring turned out to quicken one’s reflexes in combat, making it easier to dodge incoming attacks and magical threats while the chain, although once magical was losing its enchantment and the eye started to smell a bit like the inside of the smaller house. Apparently, whatever its intended purpose had been, was now diminishing in the absence of its prior owners. Then, Archie’s face lit up as he studied the kettle that we had brought with us. He murmured a single word and suddenly eight metallic legs unfurled as the cauldron lifted itself up the ground and began following the young human around. All of us watched in awe as he completed his round, muttered another word and the cauldron returned to its original inanimate form. As flabbergasted as Nysqwen was, I was surprised that she did not come up with a name for the pot on the spot, but she said something about “the Luggage”.
 
Now it was time to break camp and get back to the lumberjack and his sick daughter before it would be too late. Kyla was already getting increasingly nervous over what we might find once we got back there and her worries were not far-fetched. We therefore hurried all the way over the rolling plains between the swamp and Neverwinter b-lining it straight to the small grove. The lumberjack opened the door upon our knocking, seemingly aged by years in the last two days since we left. But he seemed relieved to see us again, indicating that we indeed were not yet too late. He bade us enter his hut. Within, the stench of anxiety and sweat was accompanied by dim light and a moist feeling to the air. Kyla and Grum went straight ahead to inspect the little girl who had not moved from the bed, while Nysqwen made to cook some tea for the father. The girl seemed to be weaker than before but not all hope was lost yet. Kyla sat down on her knees at the bed, taking the hands of the young girl in hers and began praying feverishly. Nothing happened for a short while. Then, her hands began to glow with a faint blue shimmer, a soft sigh escaping from the patients lips whose previous strain seemed to vanish as her body relaxed and she sank deeper into her pillow. If my eyes did not deceive me, I could swear that a small shadow crawled from her mouth and vanished into the corner of the room. Grum and Kyla confirmed that she was breathing much more regularly now and that she would sleep for a while but eventually should be okay. The father could hardly fathom what just had happened and thanked Kyla for her wonderous gift. With a soft smile, she answered that it was the Raven Queen his thanks should be dedicated to, since she was the one who decided that this girl’s journey had not yet met its end. She left the doll that she had won from the shooting competition with him – a small effigy of a dark-clad woman with a plain white mask. If he desired to pay tribute to anyone for his daughter’s salvation, he should pray to the Queen and follow her words.
With this farewell gift, we parted ways with the now much calmer duo, heading back towards Neverwinter. Although the young girl seems safe for now, I do not like in the slightest whatever was hushing through the room after Kyla finished her spell. And it didn’t sit well that this might have resulted from some dark ceremony performed within the city walls; this is certainly something that might require more attention.
 
The large crowds that were exiting the city when we last left it were gone, an eerie silence hanging over the usually bustling city. Some folk were seeking entry as well and were arguing intensely with the city watch. They told us, Neverwinter was under quarantine and no one is to enter or exit. Apparently, an extreme outbreak of sewer illnesses had spread from here to other cities in the south and north and travel was mostly suspended. We explained that we had been sent by the temple of Mystra to fetch vital medicine and Grum presented his guild belt in which was embroidered the crossed mash rakes, the symbol of his craft. This, combined with his offer of a fine refreshment for such hard-working honourable guardsmen, was enough to eventually grant us access, much to the chagrin of the other group of travellers.
Our first destination was the graveyard in the south western part of the city. On our way we only saw few small groups of people hushing through the mostly empty streets, no one wanted to stay in the open longer than absolutely necessary. On the graveyard itself, an alarming number of fresh graves spoke volumes of the current situation. And the cleric, we approached at Kelemvor’s temple seemed to have been awake for the past three days straight, based on the heavy shadows under his eyes. He said, he would gladly accept the remains we brought with us and would keep them until the family of the deceased would request a burial although he obviously also was rather busy these days. For his troubles and to make sure the ashes would be handled with the appropriate honours, we left him with some coin. During our entire stay around the simple stone temple, Kyla was visibly taut, she seemed to not feel too comfortable at the holy site of another god of the dead. I wonder how this works… Do some go to Kelemvor and some to the Raven Queen? Or do they represent different aspects of the same thing? Or, a more uncomfortable thought, were the gods at odds with each other and if so, what were the consequences for the mortal realm?
 
Next, we went along the riverside towards the harbour to ask in the Salty Spittoon for an address of Lyra’s family. Along the way, the silence only was broken by the occasional ringing of alarm bells, followed by hastily gathering guards and upset squeaks. However, we reached the tavern without incidents. As was to be expected with the current circumstances, the inn was locked but upon a hearty knock the morose bartender opened the door just far enough to have a conversation. We told him of our completion of the open quests and showed him the heads as proof of our deeds. As far as her family was concerned, he pointed us towards her brothers Taman and Stor, both sailors that likely resided somewhere in this harbour. He gave us a contract to sign in order to document our claims. Although he held ink and quill out towards me, I swiftly passed both to Grum, knowing that the fewer official documents were signed in my name, the better.
Before we would search for the two brothers however, we decided to head towards Mystra’s temple to deliver the plants we had gathered. The sooner the sick would receive relief the better! And sure enough we found the temple even more crowded than we had last left it, the largest amount of people in one space we had seen since our return. Kyla immediately grabbed a passing acolyte and asked him to fetch Bran or Landa and the young man hurried off to fulfil the request. He returned with Bran only a few minutes later. The robes of the older man were covered in blood and other fluids, he looked just as tired as the keeper of the graveyard but in his eyes was still a sparkle and he smiled as he saw who had come in anticipation of what we brought with us. While he approached, I made short work of the stains on his clothing, someone tending to the sick should work cleanly in my humble opinion. He told us that a large fraction of the population of Neverwinter by now had a few or many symptoms of common sewer illnesses, a plague that was spreading fast. And more and more people started also to cry bloody tears, as the sight rot spread its blinding tendrils. Usually though, this affliction was transmitted through contaminated water rather than animal bites. The younger man brought the quarter master upon Bran’s directive, and together they took inventory of what we had brought with us. A relieved smile broadened on both of their faces, as this would hopefully stem the spreading of the infections and help cure the many, many patients coming in every day.
As before, we did our best to help where we could. Be it healing by Kyla and Grum, some repairs by Archie, general heavy lifting by Nysqwen and occasionally Teynos or the attempts of the half orc to just speak and listen to the poor folk around us. I did my best in providing an auditory counterpoint to the ubiquitous wailing and cries which seemed to at least calm a few patients somewhat. Grum just came to me, telling me that when we eventually will leave the temple, he would not mind the two of us heading to his home, we had a few things to discuss. He had this knowing, but well-meaning look to his eyes, I wonder if that had to do with our nightly encounter with the crocodiles… But I would be equally interested to see how his own research was coming along and if there might be something, I could offer to help him in his search. Kyla and Nysqwen wanted to pass by the Lords’ Alliance to let them know about the hags before turning in for the night, while Archie would probably head home after the last few quite tumultuous days. And Teynos will hopefully find his way to Anataea’s, I wonder if he has anyone outside of his cloister? I must remember to ask him at the next possible occasion. We will all gather again tomorrow and then discuss how we can proceed with this plague. I just hope there will be no ratty encounters once we part ways for the evening…