Forth To New Adventures

After an early breakfast, we headed straight for the Hall of Justice, curious what would await us there. It was a busy morning, Tyrran priests rushed through the halls and corridors perhaps in preparation of some ritual. We had to wait briefly in an antechamber ‘ere the posted guards granted us entry to the council hall.
The familiar faces of Lord Protector Dagult Neverember, general Sabine, major Soman Gald, Layla Roesslingen, custodian Balthasar Woermling and Mantka Riiba looked up, a mixture of benevolent smiles, curious glances and unreadable expressions on each of their faces. Just like last time, their inquiring eyes filled me with extreme unease, yet that was the price for insights into the ranks of figures shaping the city. Lord Neverember was the first to speak, congratulating us on our exploits and chuckling at the new name the guards had announced us with. Still, he deemed it fitting, saying that master Zashier had been speaking non-stop of our victory over the dragon. He bade us tell our tale since last we spoke and thus, I explained what all had happened.
Starting from us setting out southbound on Mantka Riiba’s request, I painted vibrant verbal pictures of our group delving into the cave to eradicate the cult of Yurtrus, sparing them our run-in with Halia Thornton. Knowing nods confirmed my suspicion that Mantka had already relayed what Teynos without question had told her during their meeting. And knowing him, nothing about his story would have been overstated in the slightest. From there, I continued our tale of traveling towards Thundertree and facing off with the dragon. Much to my shame, my audience had seemed not too invested in the story thus far, likely because Mantka’s version had stolen my thunder somewhat. Especially Balthasar Woermling and general Sabine showed more interest to their nails and polish of armour respectively. But when the story evolved into its second arc, I found new vigour. It might have been the benefit of telling a tale unheard before, maybe dragons were just more interesting than marauding orc tribes, or it was Kyla’s reassuring hand that squeezed my shoulder, either way, everyone in the chamber suddenly seemed focussed entirely on my words. The benefit of the storyteller after all is hiding behind the sentences he weaves.
So, I told of our encounters with the cultists, the first conversation with Venomfang and our climactic battle in the ruined tower. Something told me, Reidoth would not particularly appreciate being part of a story told to the powerful of Neverwinter, thus I hid his role entirely in Grum’s deeds. When it came to explaining what had transpired with Teynos after his death blow to the beast, I referred to Nysqwen as the one more knowledgeable about dragons, given her lineage. At this point, deafening silence spread in the chamber. Apparently that detail had been left out by the half orc whenever he spoke to Mantka Riiba, her eyes were affixed on him, her face hidden behind her unreadable mask barren of any emotions. For all others, a mixture of curiosity, fascination, shock and terror was dominating. Lord Neverember addressed Balthasar Woermling if he had knowledge of any such occurrences from history. The custodian replied that there were scripts speaking of Alexandrus the Great, who on behest of one dragon had slain another and as a reward for his deed was gifted with some spark of draconian magic that granted him similar boons. Dragons, according to him, are intertwined deeply with the world, to the point where one cannot exist without the other. Thus, no scholar had yet been able to dissect the nature of this draconic magic. Some said, it was the basis for any arcane tradition, hence why such scriptures, especially early works, were often composed in the draconic alphabet. It just was important now to monitor the changes our friend was experiencing and for him to gain control as quickly as possible. With that premise, it was probably for the best if we would head out as soon as possible.
With this, the Lord Protector came to the main reason for our invitation: the obvious connections of recent events to drow folk. He explained, a scout had just returned from one of the closest entrances to the underdark and reported that they seemed to be on the search for magical artifacts. Upon a wink from him, a guard opened another door, giving way to a burly dwarf clad in a black cloak, his short black hair and beard were unkempt, both eyes decorated by shiners and a long scar carved from his chin up to his temple. Lord Neverember introduced him as Darriel Shorthammer. Not but a week ago, he had come across an abandoned camp in said entrance, along with tracks of a heavily burdened cart that were leading deeper into the cave. Following these tracks, he ran into a group of what he assumed to be humans with a wagonload of weapons. He overheard them saying they had to hurry or else some deal they were after was about to bust. Unfortunately, while pursuing them, in his sleep he was surprised by one of the group, beaten up and taken into their custody. He only awoke from unconsciousness as they already were back on their way up to the surface. In one of the following nights, he could escape his captors due to his knowledge about the labyrinthian tunnels beneath. The group had consisted of a good dozen people, clad in dark leather armour and almost all wearing short swords. Based on his estimations, they must still have been in the upper depths where humanoids would live, while the worst occupants of the underdark usually kept to the deepest reaches. Still, there was no trading post that he would have been aware of in the immediate vicinity, so their dealings must have been with one particular group or individual. Lord Neverember concluded that master Shorthammer would guide us towards the entrance to the underdark on the next day and bade us to return with what intel we could bring. If it was enough to inform further actions, he offered to pay us a handsome sum in return. We agreed to this proposal and headed back to Anataea’s place.
 
Much to everyone’s surprise, my old friend was indeed home when we returned. Anataea told us that Birel had needed to return to the promenade of the Dark Maiden Eilistraee. She had been around to go after the Black Spider but lost their tracks. In the end, apart from the original prey there were a second set of humanoid tracks that had joined those of the Spider. Could that have been Glasstaff? The sneaky magician we never encountered might yet come back to haunt us after all. I can barely abide the idea of the two of them scheming somewhere or worse returning to potentially the underdark to reconvene with whomever they are in league. Anataea then proceeded to ask Nysqwen what she knows about her brother and his whereabouts. She gave a description of him, and we recounted our run-in with the Black Spider from the brief time he was our captive. Anataea knew not who Imraloth or Maglust might be, though she mentioned that U’hid Nasad was a city of the drow far in the east. Only now, Nysqwen remembered that there also was a letter we had found in the lost mine, written in the strange language of the drow. As of yet, we had not tried to translate it and it at the moment was with Archie. Perhaps the Harpers could help? Finally, Kyla asked Irakin if he had heard anything about smugglers that would transport weapons out of the city. He negated that, however, multiple caravans of the Lionshields had been raided recently. He promised to look further into that.
 
We then set out to retrieve the letter and to the Harpers. Once there, all the others actually entered the building with me, making the acquaintance of the quaint old man reading in his chair in the interchamber. Multiple mind-twisting riddles and some poking around later, we came to know that the man himself was able to speak and read drow. After one further riddle, he agreed to help us with our enquiry. The note read that Nezznar was send “here” on behest of Imraloth with the intend that Kyorlin would follow later. Maglust, in the meantime, was looking for further information whilst “others” were dealing with remote tasks. That lined up with the note we had found at the piper’s ritual place where Imraloth was warning Kyorlin not to disappoint the Spider Goddess. Nezznar must be the name of the Black Spider then. And our hypothesis remained, that somehow this also all tied in with Nysqwen’s albino brother Urodaar, was Maglust a new name he had obtained or chosen? We left the Harpers’ headquarters with a sense of being onto something without properly knowing what it even was.
By now, the sun was close to the horizon again and thus we strolled through the ever-busy city streets. It is remarkable how quickly civilisation can recover from a disaster like the summoning of a devil within the walls. Everything seemed as if nothing ever happened, only a surprising absence of rats was noticeable. Thousands of souls in Neverwinter and only a handful of them had even a hint of a hunch of all that was moving behind the scenes. And here we found ourselves seemingly in the midst of the net. Pondering on such questions, I was suddenly shaken back into the present when I heard a very familiar voice from one of the crossings of the larger streets. Urging my friends to follow me, we came upon a pulk of people, gathered around three individuals to the side of the crossroads. A halfling was keeping rhythm while a fair-skinned human with short brown hair and a vibrant yellow shirt was playing a dainty melody on a tin whistle. I was over the moon to see Nal alive and well, as he had not been around on any of our previous visits. He’s a good man, as good a musician although he really becomes tight-lipped when asked about his past. But he was always good for some entertainment and a valuable asset to Cor due to certain other more… delicate qualities. Completed was trio by none other than Anataea herself. A warm smile crossed her face when our eyes met. It had been a while since I saw her perform but I never forgot how mesmerising it could be. And this was no exception. Her lute and voice perfectly complemented Nal’s melody and the timbre of her vocals alone… No wonder there was such a gathering. And thus, we enjoyed an evening with the finest the music industry of Neverwinter had to offer, for once without the pressure of having to contribute myself (although I joined in for the final piece, the temptation was too great and the experience the best reward one could hope for).
 
Early the next morning, we were woken by Irakin who said a dwarf was waiting outside for us. After a quick but hearty breakfast we were on our way, leaving the city through its northern gate and following the High Road for this first leg of the journey. As far as I can remember this was my first time travelling north and even though nothing changed immediately compared to other regions around Neverwinter, the tingling sensation of exploring unknown territory would not leave me henceforth. Fortunately, the day was bright, a light breeze blew the fresh salty smell of the sea our way which brought an especially broad smile to Nysqwen’s face. This might well have been our last full day with the sky visibly above us and we made sure to cherish every moment on the journey.
In the early afternoon, after we had left behind the last farms for a while, we veered east, off the road with the high grey peak of Mount Hotenow as our guide. A few hours later and the rolling plains and light forests gave way to the foothills of the Crags mountain range. Due to our early departure and good progress throughout the day, Darriel advised for us to seek a place to camp for the night and promptly set off to find a suitable location. We found a spot protected from one side by a cliff face where we unpacked our bedding, started a fire and prepared our first dinner back on the road. For good measure, I made sure to create our tiny hut before we distributed watch shifts and laid down for the night.
 
Abruptly we were shaken from our slumber by Teynos crying that we were being attacked. Braking wood and heavy footfalls accentuated his warning. Kyla was the first to step in front of the dome to send a bolt of radiant energy into the night. Promptly, two arrows hit her in retaliation and made her stumble back into the safe confines of the hut. The first to break through the shrubs and scattered trees were three huge ogres, shouting unintelligible phrases. They were accompanied by a few hobgoblins, goblins and bugbears, all clearly set to raid a camp they as of yet were unable to see. I grabbed Rattlepike’s trusted old Lyra and hastened Nysqwen in all her movements. Grum stormed out from the dome, his hands describing a complicated pattern and the earth seemed to erupt between two of the approaching ogres. In a billowing cloud of dust, he vanished and emerged as a gigantic elk, ready for the now approaching bugbears. Teynos set out, his staff a blur of motion as he covered another ogre in a flurry of blows while dodging almost all of the incoming arrows from the goblins. Kyla added a spectral raven to the mix that wreaked havoc amongst the attackers. Then the melee combatants were upon us, and a dire fight ensued. Eventually, Grum, his elk shape riddled by arrows, was forced to revert back to his dwarven form. I watched in horror as three bugbears at once rained down on him with maces and axes and saw my old friend fall under their assault. Thus far, we had been able to keep the hut as a safe haven in the fight which also meant that I was pretty much useless in this fight. Seeing the dwarf fall to the ground, the world suddenly seemed to be tinted in a red haze. I heard familiar spiteful voices billowing up, urging me to throw caution to the wind and destroy everything and everyone in my way. Yet I managed to keep them at bay this time. There was something worth fighting for other than just personal gain and advancement, hatred was not the only driving force in the world. I could not take my eyes off my fallen friend when I released the dome, its translucent walls fading to nothingness. Nescient to what it would do to my carefully constructed masquerade, one hand risen high, I summoned a floating image of the symbol that had haunted my dreams ever since our investigations in the Harper’s library: two opposing, downward pointing black triangles topped by a third hollow one like the peering eye of a cloaked figure, only lit by an ominous blood red glow behind the image. The symbol of Asmodeus, incorporating all the fiend stood for in a few simple shapes. Invisible to all outside the affected area, it was enough to halt three of the four attacking bugbears in their tracks, only the apparent leader based on his height was able to shrug off the effect although he still seemed shaken by the unexpected image. This was enough time for Kyla to get the dwarf back on his feet as she had to do with so many of us in the recent past.
In the background, Darriel was still picking off goblins and heavily damaged creatures with his short bow. Slowly, with the relentless efforts of Teynos and Nysqwen on the frontline, Grum now as a giant snake and Kyla, Darriel and myself with a bit of distance the numbers of our foes dwindled. In an effort to have a more hands-on approach, Kyla ran towards one of the standing bugbears, necrotic energy swirling around the hand she grabbed his shoulder with. But seeing this opportunity, even with Nysqwen running to her aid, she was battered on similarly to Grum earlier by said bugbear and one of the hobgoblins. Under their blades she too fell into unconsciousness. A soft light began to glow from the pendant on her chest. Her failsafe had kicked in, but we would still need to see after her as soon as possible.
One by one, we finished off the remaining enemies in a handful of heartbeats, only one of the goblins escaped and vanished in the still dark forest. Grum returned to his dwarven shape and brought Kyla back to her feet, an obscure mirror image of what had happened just before. Only now became I aware of my appearance and although there was some distance between me and my friends, Darriel stood right beside me, a horrified look on his face. Without a word, he quickly moved away from me and tended to his own business, not looking up for a good while. Where had this carelessness come from! This could well be the slip that brought down the entire house of cards. For now though, we all required a proper rest to recover from the battle we just survived. I offered to keep watch to let my friends get their well-deserved rest. Darriel kept eyeing me for a while before turning around. With the break of dawn, he got up and vanished in the forest. When he returned a good while later, he offered no explanation and I felt myself in no position to ask for one.
 
The others slept almost until noon. When we eventually broke camp, we quickly searched the still scattered bodies of the slain goblinoids. Apart from a surprising sum of money and some jewellery, they had a reddish potion in their position, the liquid in the flacon seemed to pulse in regular intervals, almost like a heartbeat. Yet it looked different from the healing potions we would have encountered otherwise. A breakfast that rivalled dinner in its heartiness later, we continued our track into the mountains. We heard the waterfall before we could see it. On a clearing a steady stream of water plunged almost 100 feet down a rock face into a dark pool. It was girdled by willows, their green branches reaching all the way down to caress the slowly moving water.
Darriel announced our arrival at our destination. The entrance to the underdark was to be found at the bottom of the pond we were now facing. He would leave us now to continue north and control further entrances. We agreed to meet up again six days from now in the large cave that we would find on the other side of the tunnel we had to traverse from here. As a farwell, I reached out to shake his hand and thank him for his help to this point. He looked up at me suspiciously, well on guard and hesitated for a moment before meeting my hand. I palmed him two gold pieces both as thanks and perhaps a reminder that not all we had seen on our joined journey needed to be relayed to higher authorities. I believe to have seen a brief flash of understanding and the slightest of nods, but he is a hard to read dwarf. Without further words, he turned and was on his way.
As is to be expected from the chaos crew we are, the simple task of traversing the pond and described tunnel took a lot of debating over the best course of action and far more time than it probably needed to take. But hey, this is one of the things I love so much about our little fellowship, everyone is welcome to voice their opinion and act as they feel is appropriate. So somehow, in this process Grum had to polymorph into a giant toad not once but twice, Nysqwen dove through the tunnel with a rope that only Kyla and I made any use of while Teynos came through slightly dissolved after a ride in toad-Grum’s maw.
Darkness greeted us. There was not a single light source anywhere. Just barely could we make out the natural cave walls around us and a path that is now leading deeper into the bowels of Toril. We are taking a brief rest, mostly for Teynos to remove the remaining traces of toad saliva from his body. Maybe I should tell him that I can clean his entire body in a few moments with barely moving a finger… But this way we can just ever so briefly catch our breath before descending into the unknown depths of the underdark.