A Devil and Repercussions

It was cold. We could see our heavy breath gathering in a mist before our eyes as we stared up to the gigantic monster that had just appeared. Sharp fangs dripped in anticipation, while absurdly long claws scraped against the rough-hewn stone floor of the basement, causing a terrible screeching sound to shake us to our core. Lystramon had arrived. A high-pitched cackling echoed through my mind as the creature lunged forward and dug its fangs into Grum’s bear shape. Instilling Nysqwen and Kyla with encouraging words to harden them for the battle ahead, all of us gathered around our terrible foe.
With our backs turned to the entrance, we almost did not notice the giant rat followed by a swarm of smaller rodents that apparently had heard the call of their master and now assaulted us from behind. However, now it was our turn to unleash a counterattack. Grum reverted to his dwarven form, an angry shine to his eyes and muttered a rumbling incantation. Following the tonality of this phrase, suddenly the ground started shaking, knocking many of the smaller rats to the ground and preventing further assailants to approach as quickly as the last intruders. Nysqwen and Teynos in the meantime got up close and personal with the large devil, battering it with punches and slices, respectively. Kyla and Archie kept some distance between them and the rodents and fired their magical attacks to aid our melee frontline, lighting Lystramon up with divine and forceful energy.
I saw the beast raking a claw towards Nysqwen and managed to distract it just enough to miss her by inches. The next thing I felt was unbearable pain as sharp, long fangs dug into my chest and my vision faded.
 
The avid reader might notice a recurring theme in me losing consciousness. Yet something was different this time. Faces flashed in front of my eyes. Familiar faces. Staring accusatory from empty sockets, bloodied heads rammed onto darkened poles, Rugnhar, Camp, Nal, … Grum, Nysqwen, Kyla, Archie, Teynos, … Chant, Anataea,… features twisted in contempt on a canvas of blood and flames. Nothing mattered. Only anguish, only hate, only annihilation. The vision was abruptly torn from my eyes as a voice called my name. The fading images left nothing but blind rage. As I opened my eyes and stood up, a red haze obscured the world. Driven by madness, my only thought was to inflict agony. Why not make this devil suffer first, just as so many had suffered under him. The anticipation almost made me lick my lips involuntarily as a damned voice spoke in the infernal tongue without me realising that it was my own mouth forming these words, cursing the fiend.
Had I been of sound mind, I might have wondered why the enormous rat seemed to wince under the words, yet there was no response. Sudden bright explosions from Archie’s and Ori’s attacks burned into its flanks. There is not much memory of what followed, as my mind was utterly consumed by this burning hate. I vaguely remember my friends fending off further approaching rats and continuing to strike for Lystramon. At some point, a shrill squeal echoed through our minds as he lunged out for a huge sweep, painfully piercing our brains. Teynos body fell limp to the ground. Then bright radiant flames burst from his snout, seemingly swallowed and suddenly the body of the devil exploded. Rat innards splattered everywhere. looking around I saw a heavy breathing Kyla, her raised hand clutching the symbol of the Raven Queen. Quickly, she made her way over to the half-orc and poured some brandy in his gullet. Spluttering, our friend regained consciousness.
Again master of my thoughts and body, I used the brief pause to correct what had been lost after the near fatal blow while scrambling over to the altar with the sacrificed woman. There was no time to think about what just had happened, to grasp that a devil had found its way to Neverwinter or to contemplate that for the second time in a very short while I had lost control. Chant was still missing and the human woman on the table, though a terrible sight that tore on my heart, luckily not her.
Together with my friends I continued searching for clues on a desk that miraculously had not been damaged in the fray. I came across an old book, describing summoning rituals for minor fiends and their servants, finally stumbling over some pages dealing with Lystramon, Lord of rats. This might warrant later study. On the same desk we found a stone bowl with some mostly charred ingredients that had probably been used in the ritual. However, there was what looked like a remaining fragment of a letter written in a language unfamiliar to me. The rest of the room contained some cages where evidently other sacrifices had been kept.
In the meantime, Archie had searched the flutist and found two healing potions, a third flask that contained a pulsing liquid, the young man knew to be a potion of growth and a peculiar pan flute that had been used by the creature. When I later on studied the instrument further I learned that it enabled its wielder to have a certain extend of control over roaming rats, much in the same fashion as the ominous dead body on the ground had done. Seeing him up close now, it became obvious that his distorted features were indeed flesh and not simply a mask, although the rest of the physique resembled that of a drow uncomfortably closely. Nysqwen, Teynos and Kyla had inspected the body of Lystramon yet found nothing noteworthy. Still, Nysqwen carved out one of its teeth as a reminder to this terrible encounter.
 
By now, the immediate sense of danger had passed, and we all had somewhat caught our breath. Now Kyla stepped over to the blood-stained altar and weaved her hands over the lifeless body of the woman. She also was able to read the apparently elven words on the piece of parchment I found: “Do not disappoint me, Kyorlin, the Spider Goddess would not be amused!” It was signed with a name we had stumbled over before. Imraloth, a figure that in some way was tied into whatever had happened to Nysqwen’s brother Urodaar. All these strands so confusingly woven seemed to meet up once again. If only we could find who ever sent this letter, we might finally get some answers and make up for letting the Black Spider escape.
Something rumbled in a chamber above our heads. Kyla was the first to pick up the commotion, something was seemingly dragged over the floor towards the southern end of whatever lay above us. She quickly climbed up the ladder standing in one corner and cried out once she was up there, she had found my mother. As fast as possible I joined her to find a tiefling woman, bound at hands and feet and gagged crawling over the floor towards a door, frantically shaking. I stepped over. It was indeed Chant. Bruised and shaking, her hair clotty with dirt and a dark, hardened liquid in places but with no apparent major injuries. I untied her and removed the cloth from her mouth, my hands shaking almost as wildly as her entire body. She muttered we have to flee, clasping my arm with what strength she had left. I grasped the hand, telling her that the danger had been taken care of and at the same time instilling her with some resilience against what fear had taken hold of her. Knowing the flutist (Kyorlin?) dead helped her relax slightly more. She told us she had gone to bed as usual and just woke up mere moments ago, bound and in this strange place. Then she almost collapsed on her feet, whatever exactly had happened clearly taking its toll. Nysqwen and I quickly informed the Harpers and the Lords’ Alliance about what had transpired with the sending stones granted to us before I set out to bring Chant home, accompanied by Grum.
 
Arriving at the house, we got her into bed, I promised to her that we would talk later and stayed for a short while to make sure she fell asleep, and everything was quiet. Finally, we made our way to Grum’s home. The shouts of distant hunting packs of orcs still echoed through the night, but no longer did we encounter any roaming rat swarms. After reflecting on what we just had survived in the chairs around his fireplace, we quickly went to sleep as well, exhausted from the past few days.
We were woken the next morning by a guard hammering at the door who handed a missive to Grum bearing the sigil of Lord Protector Dagult Neverember. The note invited us to join a meeting in the Hall of Justice later this evening. For a start, we decided to meet up with the others who had presumably returned to Anataea’s after waiting for the guards last night.
 
The morning was marked by a slight drizzle, considered a bad omen for the next year on Midsummer. In all the stories after the heroes slayed their final enemy, they would return and be celebrated for their deeds and the weather would of course always be perfect. Thus, indeed this wet awakening dampened not only our cloths on the way over. Luckily however, we were greeted with breakfast and the always appreciated company of our friends. Apparently, a similar note as had been given to Grum had been dropped off on my name before our arrival – an unsettling thought as this meant that certain people not only knew that we all were affiliated but also my address…
Nysqwen recounted that after we left master Zashier and fellow members of the Alliance had shown up to help clean up the aftermath. They had shared the note we had found and explained that certain elements of these schemes were still unknown and roaming about. Imraloth apparently is a drow name, which would explain the elven letter and references to Lolth. Zashier had shared with them that Lord Neverember and other members of the council were planning to inform and work together with the neighbouring cities, a rare enough occasion as usually each minded their own business with only utilitarian connections through factions like the Lords’ Alliance and the Harpers. If the drow were plotting something this would affect all civilised cities along the sword coast.
Kyla had asked Zashier for permission to ask the dead flutist some questions to perhaps get further information about their plans later today. Therefore, we would stop by at their domicile after following our invitation. She also wondered aloud where Anataea was these past few days, she would like to ask her once again about her drow contact with these new revelations. I promised to help her find answers to these questions as I too was getting more curious what my friend was up to although I still place unshaken trust in her ambitions with our relationship being as close as it was.
 
We finished our breakfast and began to realise that this was the first day in what felt like forever that we were not facing an imminent threat and could do with as we pleased. We came to the conclusion that there was only one possible way to go: we all needed a spa day! After Archie pointed out the day, Nysqwen diverted our way towards the bath house to lead to a familiar smithy as she had promised a date to a certain dwarven lady. However, when we reached her shop no one was home so Nysqwen decided to write her a note that she slipped under the door, and we continued towards our original destination.
As we got there, we all were of the opinion that with what gold we had made over the past weeks we might as well treat us to the full package, plus some fresh wine and fruits to celebrate the day. Teynos asked if they also would be able to provide a mud bath and with the hefty tip that Kyla had provided when paying, they were rather attentive to any wishes we may have. So that was what it was like to be rich. An interesting experience. How quickly servitude was bought, where without the proper coin you would rather end with a bruised face in the street. It felt good yet with a surprising hint of a bitter aftertaste, knowing how many less fortunate people lived in Neverwinter alone.
A young halfling led us to a private area of the bath where we could spend the day. Nysqwen left some extra gold at the reception to accommodate for Amber, should she follow her invitation and come to the bath later. However, the receptionist informed her that the smith indeed was already in the bath and should be able to be found in the common area. Thus, she left and shortly after returned with a slightly red-faced dwarven woman whose muscles were almost as impressive as Nysqwen’s. It was hard to tell whether the red colour was due to the general warmth of the bath or something else. Giving Nysqwen a slight nod, hopefully unnoticed by others, I spent the next few hours filling the room with soft melodies that would help our relaxation and make for a generally comforting atmosphere, or so I hoped. Adorable and innocent were not necessarily adjectives one would normally choose to describe a huge dragonborn with a massive glaive and most of the time at least some bloodstains on their clothes. Yet, these are the best descriptors I can think of to accurately represent Nysqwen’s attempts on flirting with the dwarf. However, this was utterly her, honest, to the point of sometimes being blunt but caring, thoughtful and just likable. Thus, I trust that she was doing better than if anyone had tried to explain to her how flirting works and judging by the constant blush and smile on Amber’s face it hit the sweet spot. And so, the probably most luxurious day of my life drew closer and closer to the evening until it eventually became time to head towards the Hall of Justice, former temple to Tyr and now office of the Lord Protector.
 
The huge building was one of the few in the city that I had never seen from inside before today. It was large enough that the hill giant we had encountered could have stood upright in the main nave, a monument formerly dedicated to Tyr with strong walls and steep arches. It was hardly a surprise that Neverember had chosen such a bastion to be his seat of power although he still permitted worship to Torm for followers of that belief.
The guards in the antechamber opened large wooden doors for us to enter the Hall upon being shown our invitations and proclaimed our arrival to the present councillors. We really should come up with some form of name for our small troupe if having audiences in such seats would occur again in the future… Although every fibre in my body repelled from the thought of coming face to face with authorities of such renown. Upon a raised dais at the opposite end of the hall were placed six broad wooden chairs, clad in blue brocade matching the shade of the Neverwinter sigil. The far left was occupied by a young human woman in clothes almost as humble as our own with the emblem of the trade guilds of the city on her chest. Grum knew her to be Layla Roestlingen, the representative of traders and craftsmen on this council. On the second chair from the right sat a dwarf eyeing us curiously when we entered. A set of fine leather armour was almost hidden below fine clothes. This was major Somman Glad, Neverember’s right hand and responsible for leading the government while the Lord Protector was off to Waterdeep or other duties. Behind each chair stood two members of the city guard, behind the third from the left two guards from Waterdeep. Master Zashier also stood among the people present in the background.
This almost throne was larger than the others. Richly decorated with carvings and inlays of precious metals was this the seat of power. The man occupying it was of impressive stature. Long, black hair kempt to the back and a neatly trimmed beard framed a face of sharp features and piercing eyes. He was clad in a polished plate armour with a deep blue gown - again the colour of Neverwinter - bearing the symbol of Waterdeep. Even just sitting there his presence seemed to fill the entire hall, demanding attention. Across from Lord Protector Dagult Neverember stood a tall woman with short brown hair, similarly wearing plate armour who turned around when the guard proclaimed us the heroes that ended the rat plague. She must have been general Sabin, head of the city guard and for the moment the hired sellswords that helped keep the piece. Now she took her seat to the left of the Lord Protector.
The imposing man now stood up and took a few steps towards us, finally addressing Archie with a broad smile, thanking us for our deeds and bidding us to tell our tale once all guests were assembled. I could almost feel the anxiety of the poor young man under this unwanted direct attention and calmingly placed my hand on his back, hopefully unnoticed.
A knock on the door interrupted further introductions. Three orcs entered the Hall, two bulky, broad shouldered males with an unnerving intelligence in their dark eyes flanked a lither figure obscured by a long red cloak and a wooden mask on which red symbols had been painted. All three displayed the mark of the Many Arrows tribe on their attire. One of the two supposed guards briefly flinched upon seeing Teynos, hard to tell whether it was from recognition or his half-orc origin. The veiled figure took her seat on the chair at the right end of the dais and nodded in our direction. Her voice marked her as female when she greeted us with a guttural tone yet almost free of the common orcish accent. However, in the same breath she underlined that the deeds of her tribe shall not be diminished by our accomplishments and reminded Lord Neverember of a promise that he apparently had made granting the orcs less repercussions and more trade going forward. Neverember introduced the woman as Mantka Riiba, leader of the tribe that held the northern shore of the river along with all other present members of the council. Finally, he called a man named Woermling to the remaining free seat. A figure that previously stood in the corner where some servants held wine and snacks at the ready stepped forward, a sly grin adorning the most average and unnoteworthy features I have ever seen. It was somewhat dazzling to look at a man this nondescript as the eyes had a hard time settling on any defining features. Neverember called him the custodian of the city, I will be damned if that is not some form of secret intelligence service.
As everyone had gathered now, the Lord Protector once more offered us the gratitude of the city and underlined his words by calling forth two men carrying a heavy chest that would contain our collective reward. Additionally, he, as leader of the Lords’ Alliance in Neverwinter, had heard word of Nysqwen and would see to it that she may rise in the ranks of the faction, having proven her worth. Finally, he asked for our tale and a report of what has been going on in his city.
Hoping to take the pressure from poor Archie, I stepped forth and introduced the members of our group, in turn expressing our gratitude for the invitation and the humbling gift that was the chest. Then I recounted the events of the past from our perspective, giving full account about our dealings and investigations with the rat plague and the potential links to the Black Spider and the events in the lost mine of Phandelver. Occasionally, the dwarf murmured something under his breath, not taking his eyes of me for one second. General Sabin would occasionally ask more detailed questions, mostly regarding our tactics in combat while Layla remained silent yet seemed to listen intently and the custodian looked bored more than anything else.
In a break when I caught my breath and steeled myself under the unfaltering gaze of Lord Neverember, Kyla suddenly greeted on of the guards as captain Ramas, drawing the attention of all of us, Layla and one of the orcs to one of the city guards who on close inspection indeed appeared to be that very gentleman, though heavily disguised. To what purpose remains a mystery.
When I finally finished my story, the ruler of the city regarded me with a stern look and thanked us once more for all the information. He was unsettled by all the proceedings with the drow. Looking along the ranks of his fellow council members he explained that a decision had been made to send word to the neighbouring cities to strengthen the alliance in preparation of what might be ahead and gather more intel. Furthermore, there should be an expedition into the underdark to get closer to the home of the dark elves, an entry to which was close by. They were still looking for brave enough folk to do either mission, offering us an opportunity to further help the still recovering city and gaining some reputation to our names. It would have been foolish to bluntly decline such an opportunity, even if it meant working closer with those in power whose individual intentions we could not be sure about. Kyla interposed that we also still had to take care of a certain green dragon in Thundertree, which caused Lord Neverember to raise an eyebrow as he had not yet heard of this creature. Thus, we briefly explained what we had encountered there and promised to take care of the beast. We were offered a few days to tend to our affairs and of course rest after what we had gone through, although the ambassadors to Luskan, Mirabar, Waterdeep and the smaller cities would have to depart sooner rather than later.
After the Lord Protector ended, Mantka Riiba stood up to address us, well mostly Teynos once more, calling us “my friends” and offering us free passage in and out of the northern half of the city. They would be honoured to speak with and host the heroic Teynos and his company, an idea that clearly found fertile ground with our friend and I think all of us will be curious to learn what is going on in this otherwise secluded area. Then, Lord Neverember bade us to leave as they had other matters to discuss, and we certainly had much to think about ourselves.
 
Zashier now took us to the headquarters of the Lords’ Alliance. All of us were permitted entry into a room where the dead body of the flutist was laid out and another member clad in robes of the Alliance awaited us. The mage was here to aid Kyla in her intention to get some information from the strange creature by giving her the ability to speak and understand whatever language it may use. While Kyla now stepped towards the table, determination writ in her eyes, the rest of us involuntarily took a step backwards. She clutched the raven symbol, speaking directly to her goddess. This time, we all were able to understand her words as she asked the Raven Queen to grant this spirit a brief return to this plane before it would eventually pass on in peace to answer our questions truthfully.
A faint shimmer engulfed the limp body and rattling breath was drawn in for a last time into destroyed lungs. As per the nature of Kyla’s incantation, upon her first question what the purpose of summoning Lystramon was, she only got the cryptic yet potentially forthright answer “Lingering illness, death, doom”. We learned that he had gotten his orders from an ominous brotherhood but he did not tell us who other members would be, nor if there were any further current plans. Finally, Kyla asked who this Imraloth figure was. The monotonous voice chuckled and said that it was referring to Xundlilyss, the daughter of Lolth the Spider Godess. And with that, it collapsed back on to the table and was silent.
Three questions answered, yet the only result were more questions. Things just kept getting more complicated and with no better seeming starting point than this brotherhood that somehow might be tied to the underdark. And how did all of that connect to Urodaar? Master Sashir warned us to be very careful if we would indeed make a trip below the surface as these parts were crowded with duergar, drow, giant spiders and even more sinister creatures like illithids or beholders. Not very promising at all…
We now are sitting in the Singing Amboss, enjoying the still free evening with some of Grum’s fine ale and considering our options. None of us are too fond of the idea of immediately heading out into danger again but Grum had not had a chance to visit Quercus in Mirabar for a long time and Nysqwen was of course desperate to find any news of her brother. Kyla was quite concerned about her vision that had shown all these drow and a strange connection to Anataea. We might need a night to sleep over all of this. And then perhaps in the morning it is time for some honesty with my friends given the last night.