OFD06 New Dawn Arises Over Pipers Corner
The date in Cerwyn calendar is 337 - 337 - Brth - Easetide - Movenlidreth (MOH-ven-LIH-dreth) (337 - 2 - 4 - 4 - 114). The cloud cover is Half, with Very Heavy Rain rainfall. The temperature is Cold (0-10C) and wind is None.
As the dawn approaches, dark clouds have rolled in over the city. The temperature has plummeted and a heavy rain falls. It seems to ominously reflect the mood in room. Exhaustion is etched into everyone face. Sir Rubin sleeps soundly. Occasionally snoring as if his had a pleasant night of rest.
------
A mysterious visitor knocks on Sir Rubins Door
A sharp knock on the door interrupts the party’s conversation. One of you rises and moves to answer it.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway is a tall figure, perhaps six feet in height, wrapped in a long cloak with the hood pulled low over their face. Their head is bowed slightly forward, obscuring their features in shadow. Their hands are slender, with long fingers and dark greyish skin.
When they speak, their voice carries a faint elvish lilt, though the cadence is unfamiliar—soft yet rough, hesitant, as though Common is not their first language.
"Excuse my intrusion," the stranger says. "My name is Coreniashe. My companions and I are staying in the room next to yours, and we heard quite the commotion last night. Though it eventually quieted, we thought it best to offer our help."
The party exchanges glances before assuring the stranger that all is well—just a friend suffering from a fever and a fit, but nothing to be concerned about.
Coreniashe hesitates, their posture unreadable. "I see," they say slowly. "Though I wonder… is it common practice among humans to restrain their friends when they fall ill? It seemed to be something more than just a fever."
Their perceptiveness puts you on edge, but there is no immediate hostility in their tone. Still, suspicion lingers. You tread carefully, explaining that a local apothecary provided a healing tonic that, unfortunately, did not agree with your friend.
"An apothecary?" Coreniashe tilts their head slightly. "A healer who works with herbs?" A brief silence, then a measured exhale. "I ask because we have come to this city in search of one of our own—a sister who left to follow a human skilled in potion-making. We bring her grave news and wish to find her quickly."
They glance between you, gauging your reaction. "Her name is Moh-zh-ay-ch. The human she accompanied takes the name Angstear. Could this apothecary of yours be the one we seek?"
Trust the drow Coreniashe
Suilven roll Perception DC15 - success
Suilven listens intently, his keen instincts detecting a mix of honesty and omission in the dark elf’s voice. There is truth in Coreniashe’s words—he genuinely had no idea how close his sister was.
The apothecary who administered the potion was not, in fact, named Angstear, but a man called Rendoulf. His wife, whom the dark elves seek, does indeed appear to be of their kin. However, she wears a mask, making her true identity difficult to confirm. Her name, it seems, is Mosaiche.
Coreniashe exhales, relief evident in his posture. "Your pronunciation is poor," he corrects with a wry tone. "It is Moh-zh-ay-ch—and yes, this is the woman my companions and I seek. I appreciate you telling me this. In return, I must be honest with you on two counts. I ask that you hear me out before passing judgment."
Suilven nods, bidding him to continue.
Coreniashe’s expression darkens slightly. "First, our sister, Mosaiche, shamed her clan by consorting with Rendoulf, a mere human. The clan mothers exiled her for this disgrace. However, in our society, rivalries run deep. It was inevitable that another clan would seek to expose her indiscretion for their own gain. We have come to take her home, to restore her to our traditions and honour—to sever her ties with this man you call Rendoulf. We are prepared to reward you well for allowing us to carry out this duty. And we may even be able to assist you with the other matter."
He pauses briefly before pressing on.
"Second, you do not truly know the man you call Angstear. He is not who he claims to be. He is a priest of Pharastus, the human god of death—an abhorrent, outlawed deity in this land. His worship is forbidden for good reason. Angstear is a very powerful man, and may well evade you. In retrieving our kin, we will also deal with him accordingly, ensuring he is no longer a threat to you or the militia you will no doubt summon."
His crimson eyes lock onto Suilven’s.
"All we ask is that you allow us to act before dawn—while the city still sleeps. We will extract our kin and leave immediately. No further disruption, no unnecessary bloodshed. What say you?"
The pronunciation of Mozháych would sound like:
MOH-zhaych (IPA: /moʊˈʒaɪtʃ/)
MOH – Stressed first syllable, like mo in moment.
zh – Like the s in measure or treasure.
áy – Similar to the ai in aisle or eye.
ch – A sharp sound like in church.
This pronunciation gives Mozháych a sophisticated, slightly ominous quality, fitting for a Drow name or term. The "zh" and "ch" sounds are evocative of Drow linguistic patterns—smooth yet carrying an underlying edge.
Agree to help drow
Suilven roll Passive Perception DC20
Suilven turns to the rest of the party. Without exception, they all nod in agreement. He turns back to Coreniashe.
"We agree. We believe that together, they have committed great evil. But there may be no evidence to convict Rendoulf’s wife—taking her with you may be the only resolution. You’ll need to move quickly. We must alert the local militia as soon as possible."
Coreniashe wastes no time. He inclines his head in thanks before reaching beneath his cloak and producing a hefty purse, which he hands over—50 gold pieces in total. A second, smaller pouch is passed to Pip, the innkeeper, as a token of gratitude for his hospitality.
With a final nod, he turns on his heel and strides away. Moments later, you hear him rally his companions before they slip into the night, heading straight for the apothecary next door.
You rush to the window, pressing against the cold glass for a vantage point. The five dark elves move with precision, disappearing into the building. Then—chaos erupts.
Sudden flashes of arcane light flare through the cracks in the shutters, flickering like lightning against the darkened street. A muffled crash. Shouts in a language you can’t understand. The battle is brief, over in mere minutes.
Then, silence.
From the shadows of the doorway, the five figures emerge—this time, with a sixth. A smaller, shrouded figure walks between them. Without hesitation, they slip into the gloom, vanishing down the narrow lane alongside the old city wall, moving swiftly toward the west gate.
And just like that, they are gone.
Payment from drow
Pay GP10 to each character involved
Party distribution of coin is not taken into account for XP
------
Return to Sir Rubin
You stride back into Sir Rubin's chamber to find the paladin stirring. He struggles to sit up, his expression clouded with confusion. There is no trace of the beast he became the night before—only a weary man, battered and bewildered.
Cautiously, you assess him. With no sign of lingering aggression, you decide it is safe to release his bonds, though uncertainty lingers about how he will react to the truth.
As it turns out, he takes the revelation with unexpected composure. He listens in silence as you recount the events of the night before, his brow furrowing as understanding dawns. He absently rubs at bruises and scratches he had no memory of acquiring, the weight of his actions sinking in. When you finish, he exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging.
"I... I understand now," he murmurs. "I could never explain the wounds, the exhaustion, the unease. But to know I was the cause of such horror..." He swallows hard, shame tightening his features. "I am deeply sorry. No words can atone for this."
He takes a steadying breath, then looks up, resolve hardening his expression. "You have solved the murders. You deserve your reward."
He gestures to Graeme Merels, who dutifully steps forward, retrieving a significant sum of gold and handing it over to the party. Sir Rubin nods in approval before speaking again.
"But we have no time to waste. Two things must happen immediately."
He fixes you with a steady gaze. "One of you must go at once to summon Captain Kulig and his militia. I will submit myself to justice. Meanwhile, the rest of you must head to Rendoulf’s apothecary and detain him and his wife before they can escape."
His voice is firm, but there is no defiance—only duty. He turns to Pip and Graeme. "You will ensure I go straight into custody."
Matrox wastes no time, bolting out the door to alert the militia.
The rest of you turn toward the apothecary. But before you leave, you pause at the threshold and glance back at Sir Rubin.
He sits on the edge of the bed, head bowed, his lips moving in hushed prayer. The weight of his sins hangs heavy upon him.
Without a word, you leave him to his repentance.
Reward from Sir Rubin
Pay GP40 to each character involved
Party distribution of coin is not taken into account for XP
------
The Apothecary’s Fate
The party wastes no time reaching the apothecary. As you step inside, the scene before you speaks for itself—chaos. Shelves have been overturned, vials shattered, and herbs strewn across the floor in a disordered mess.
Amidst the debris, Rendoulf sits bound and gagged, his hands tightly secured behind his back. The dark elves have been efficient—there’s no sign of excessive harm, only a few minor bruises. He glares up at you, his eyes burning with indignation, his muffled protests barely audible behind the gag. It’s clear he is not at all pleased with his current predicament.
You take a moment to scan the wreckage. Broken glass crunches underfoot. Spilled powders mingle with crushed herbs, creating an overwhelming mixture of scents—sharp, bitter, and acrid. The destruction is thorough but deliberate; the drow didn’t linger, nor did they take anything beyond their intended target.
You check upstairs and find Ellucasim hiding in a corner. He seems to be an innocent party, but the militia will decide what to do with him,
Something catches you eye as you check the area where the potions were created.
Spot the trapdoor
Suzi Passive Investigation DC15 - success
Suzi spots a trapdoor beneath the rubble and debris. After checking for traps and finding none, you pull it open, revealing a set of steps leading down into the cellar below.
You ask for a lantern from the shop, and one of your companions quickly hands it over. With caution, you descend into the depths of the apothecary. At first glance, the space appears to be an ordinary storage cellar, filled with crates, sacks, and scattered supplies. But the air is thick with the unmistakable stench of blood and decay, a nauseating mixture of fresh and dried death.
Beyond the clutter, your eyes fall upon a stone altar, its surface slick with sacrificial blood. Some of it has hardened into a dark crust, while the fresher pools glisten with a thick, mucous-like sheen. The chamber is otherwise sparse, devoid of valuables, with only a few eerie ornaments scattered around. Resting atop the altar is a bone dagger, its crude design adding to the unsettling atmosphere.
After a brief discussion, you decide this should be left to the local militia. Without disturbing anything further, you carefully retrace your steps and head back up.
------
Conclusion
By now, the area is swarming with militia. Some have already stormed into the Blue Piper to take Sir Rubin into custody, while Matrox leads Captain Kulig and a few more men toward the apothecary.
Kulig thanks you for your service, though he exhales heavily, already dreading the legal quagmire this will create. "This trial will drag on forever," he mutters, rubbing his temples.
With your duty officially concluded, the party is free to return to the merchant warehouse.
As you pass the Blue Boar, you spot Zalman stepping out of Elara's uncle’s residence, where he spent the night after being caught within the city walls following yet another extended library session. He waves cheerfully and, without missing a beat, suggests a hearty breakfast at the Blue Boar to catch up on everything he missed. The party readily agrees.
By the time you step inside, word has already spread—the Piper’s Corner murderer has been caught, and the party is responsible. The tavern buzzes with excitement, and Fat Odo, the innkeeper, beams as he greets you.
"Heroes of the hour!" he proclaims, clapping a meaty hand on the bar. "This calls for a feast! Tonight, in your honour. Business is bound to be good now that life can go back to normal!"
You exchange grins. A free feast and ale? You’d be mad to refuse.
------
PS
Ben nurses Suzi back to health
Ben casts Cure Light Wounds x2
Mosaiche humiliated her clan by associating with Rendoulf, a mere human, and the clan mothers exiled her. However, because of the rivalry inherent in drow society, it was inevitable that exposure of her indiscretion would become the strategy of another clan. The drow at the Blue Piper have come to kidnap Mosaiche, take her home and humiliate her — and by extension her clan — by extracting a public confession of her 'degradation'.
The drow know she is married to a human who pretends to be a seller of herbs somewhere in the Borough. They do not yet know that their target is literally yards away, hampered as they are by their dislike of sunlight and difficulties of fitting into human society.
Their actions depend largely on those of the adventurers. They want to kidnap Mosaiche, not cause trouble with lesser breeds, so if dealt with openly they will be co-operative, but not very imformative. They know nothing of life in the League, and wish to know even less, other than where they can find Mosaiche. They do know that Angstear is a priest of Pharastus, so an exchange of information is possible: Mosaiche's whereabouts for Rendoulf/ Angstear's true identity and evil beliefs.
Once they find Mosaiche (the DM should assume they do so after 3-4 days if the adventurers have not dealt with them by then) they will break into the Apothecary and kidnap her. The shop will then be fired and one of the male drow killed and his body burnt beyond recognition to provide the expected corpse.
The drow never use their names when outsiders are present, and always defer to the authority of Coreniashe.
The AD&D game: Corenaishe: AC 7; MV 15'; HD 7; hp 30; .AT 1; D by weapon; SA spells (as MU 7) — affect normal fires, burning hands, feather fall, read magic, darkness 15' radius, detect invisibility, invisibility, fireball, hold person, wall of fire; Int High; AL CE; Size M xp 1140; THACO 13; armed with dagger and one-handed crossbow (see below). Doriade, her sister: AC 5; MV 15'; HD 5; hp 25; AT 1; D by weapon; SA Spells (as C5)— curse, cause light wounds, darkness, hold person, obscure alignment, silence 15' radius, cause blindness; Int High; AL CE; Size M, xp 450; THACO 15; armed with flail; Doriade keeps a black widow spider (AC 10, hp 1, .AT 1 SD poison save vs poison at -4 or die) in a finely wrought silver cage at her belt. Borendene, Despene and Grene, the males: AC 5; MV 12'; HD 2; hp 17 each; AT 1 or 2; D by weapon; Int High; AL CE; Size M; xp 99 each; THACO 16; armed with daggers, shortswords and one handed crossbows; Grene has the abilities of a Thief 5. All drew can cast dancing lights, faerie fire, darkness, detect magic, know alignment, and levitate. In addition the females can cast clairvoyance, suggestion, dispel magic, detect lie.
Drow crossbows have a range of 6' and fire bolts (D1-3) coated with a substance that causes those affected to fall unconscious. The weapons and equipment belonging to these drow has been away from the radiations of their caverns for too long and has lost its special properties. For the purposes of this adventure drow magic resistance is also assumed to be 'lost'. Finally, when in bright light drow attack at -2, and suffer a -2 penalty to their saving throws against light-based spells.
Comments