Session 7 - Thundertree

General Summary

Exil convinces Sildar that Halia Thornton has designs on running for Townmaster in the next election. And he points out that the Rebrands steered clear of her establishment for some reason. He suggests than Daran Edermath would be a far better candidate.
“Thank you for your insights, Exil.” Sildar says. “You may be right. There is something going on there with her and her exchange. I’ll speak with Mr. Edermath about running for the office and gauge his interest.”
14th day of Tarsakh The party returns to the Triboar Trail and turns west. Once past the Neverwinter Wood on the right, they turn north off the trail keeping about 50 yards from the forest itself. They travel for ten hours that day and encounter nothing. Cullen enters the woods to forage for some food for dinner. They spend the night under the stars. 15th day of Tarsakh The next day they continue north under a blue sky. Jowynn spots a glint of metal flashing from the edge of the woods. She just makes out three humanoids as several arrows whistle through the air. One of them strikes her in the shoulder. Rake charges towards them.
As the party gets closer, Exil flashes several scorching rays at them, killing one with the flames. They can now see they are Hobgoblins. More militaristic and disciplined than their goblin cousins, and better equipped.
Suddenly on their right flank, three more hobgoblins emerge from the underbrush and attack Rainar. Reg fires an arrow at one, while Cullen transforms into a bear and charges them. Jowynn shoots her bow and Rake swings his maul caving in one of the hobgoblin’s shields. Exil kills another archer and the last one turns and flees into the forest behind him. They kill the rest of them and Rainar notes they bear the clawed hand symbol of Cragmaw Castle.
“Thems a scouting party for a warband.” Reg warns the party. “They can have 30 to 50 more with them, we should leave quickly!”
Cullen casts pass-without-trace on the party making it near impossible (DC 30) for the party to be tracked.
The party continues to travel hastily to the north, arriving on the outskirts of Thundertree by nightfall. They make their way to Neverwinter River to camp. The water is warm and everyone but Rake and Reg wash off the dust and dirt they collected from traveling. “Reg don’t like water mate.” The goblin remarks watching the others wade into the water’s edge.
Rake grunts in agreement. 16th day of Tarsakh The next morning, as the sun rises the party heads down the old overgrown road that leads to Thundertree. Gradually, the trail becomes an old, overgrown lane winding between dilapidated buildings choked in vines and brush. Ahead of them, in the middle of the settlement, rises a steep hill, upon which stands a stone tower with a partially collapsed roof and an adjoining cottage. A dirt road hugs the base of the hill and wends its way between old stone houses, many of which are roofless ruins with interiors open to the weather. Other buildings appear more or less intact. The whole town is eerily silent. There is a sign on a post with a warning stating that the undead and other monsters lie within.
Ignoring, or destroying the sign (not sure which) they proceed. Rake switches his maul to the other hand and begins to shake his hand and looking at it.
Exil suggests they investigate a ruined cottage to the south of the road. The roof is gone and trees and brambles have overtaken the small home. Inside they are attacked by some sort of blighted plants and twigs that are agitated by their presence. Reg destroys a normal bush.
Further down the road, a more intact building appears to be an old tavern. The Galloping Tankard. The warped door proves to be stubborn when they try to open it. Rake smashes the door open with his maul and Rainar strides through. He is attacked by four ash covered zombies. When ever they are struck, a small cloud of dark choking ash expels from the walking corpse. Killing that which is already dead is no easy task. Despite multiple blows from the party, the zombies are not easily destroyed.
Finding nothing of value, the party heads south. They pass by a couple more of the cottages that appear to be filled with nothing but more brambles and twigs. They spot a sturdier structure with a roof and the windows boarded up. The door is locked and Jowynn easily picks the lock. Before any one can enter, the door swings open of its own accord and a tall white-haired druid steps out. Reidoth the druid.
He wields a gnarled staff of twisted vines. Looking over the party he greets them. “What are you fools doing here?”
“We are looking for you.” Cullen tells him. “It’s me Cullen! Do you remember me? We met on the outskirts of Neverwinter.”
His eyes narrow. “Ah yes my boy. I do indeed remember you. Quickly! Come inside!” He furtively ushers them inside glancing up at the sky as he does so.
Inside is a humble but cozy home with shelves filled with herbs and components, a table and chair, kitchen, and a bed. There is a kettle on the stove in the corner and he offers the party tea.
“Now why have you come here seeking me out?” he asks.
“We are looking for Cragmaw castle,” Cullen explains. “We were hoping you knew where it is.”
“Yes.” he states handing Cullen the tea. “A foul fortress of goblinkind.” He glances at Reg who shrugs and turns to open a cabinet to see what’s inside.
“However, there are far more dangerous creatures here to be sure.” He continues.
“What creatures?” Cullen asks. “Why were you looking to the sky when we arrived?”
Reidoth sits down in his chair. “On the hill. In that tower. An emerald drake has taken up residence. A young one to be sure, but every bit as dangerous as an old one. He cannot be allowed to stay here. Now that Mount Hotenow has settled and is peaceful again, people will soon begin to return to this area.”
“Perhaps we could speak with this dragon and reason with it.” Exil suggests.
“Chromatic dragons usually are not very friendly or welcoming.” Reidoth replies. “However, I think together we could confront the wyrm and drive it out!”
“Whoa.” Exil says holding up a hand. “You yourself just said how dangerous it is. We should at least attempt to parley with it, then maybe come up with a plan to drive it away.”
Reidoth considers for a moment thinking the dragon will force the issue anyway. “Very well. We shall confront the dragon and see if it can be persuaded to leave.”
“Again,” Exil says. “Let me talk with it first. I have a draconic connection that may help. Do you know its name?”
“No,” he replies. “I have only been watching it come and go as it hunts. It believes me to be a harmless squirrel. Come before the light of day is gone. Let us show this drake our force in numbers.”
Exil sighs and everyone exits Reidoth’s home.
Reg puts his head in his hand and mutters, “And they call us goblins stupid.”
The party trudges up the path that leads to the base of the hill. There is a winding lane that leads to the base of the tower. Part of the tower’s roof is missing. The ruins continue to be very silent but for a slight breeze.
After climbing the hill, they find a small intact cottage with a roof attached to the side of the tower’s base. Two dead giant spiders lay on either side of the path. They appear to be mauled by a larger creature. “Former occupants.” Reidoth states. Someone suggests knocking and Exil calls out in the Draconic tongue “Hello? We only wish to speak with you.” But there is no answer.
Rainar pushes the unlocked double doors to the cottage open. There are leaves scattered on the floor of the otherwise bare cottage. He walks inside. To his right is an open archway into the base of the tower. The tower is dark except for an angled ray of sunshine coming in from the hole in the roof.
The rest of the party, seeing that Rainar wasn’t torn to shreds enters the cottage. Rainar steps toward the archway but stops short as a large reptilian tail begins to slide slowly past the doorway. Once it passes they hear a deep voice call from the darkness. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Humans without masks entering my abode. Do come in human with a tall pike.”
“It’s a glaive.” Rainar replies as he strides into the chamber, followed by everyone else.
Except for Reg who bravely waits outside.
Looking up inside the tower the party can see the floors have been removed. Only the thick support beams remain. One could imagine the dragon uses them as a ladder and climbs to the top to fly through the hole in the roof. As the party’s eyes adjust to the dim light, they see the form of the green dragon; rippling muscles beneath emerald green scaled armor, long black razor-sharp claws like swords, and a mouth full of fangs as long as daggers.

The dragon turns to Exil and it narrows its yellow eyes to slits and says, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this audacious visit?” As he speaks, puffs of a dark green billowing smoke or gas emanates from his mouth and drifts to either side. They smell a strong chemical odor and their eyes sting. “Mighty and powerful dragon! We have come to parley with you.” Exil replies.
“Flattery will get you everywhere my tasty little half elf.” The dragon laughs. “You may call me Venomfang.” He raises his voice a bit and the booming sound reverberates against the walls.
“This is a humanoid settlement, Dragon. You should leave this place! It will be reclaimed at some point and you should not lair here.” Reidoth tells the dragon.
‘What my friend here means,” Exil explains giving the druid an annoyed glance, “We think you could find a more suitable lair. There are many mountains to the North.”
“This place is a bit scruffy,” the dragon muses tapping the walls with a talon. “But I prefer the forest climate. Tell me what do you offer Venomfang in return for this supposed relocation?”
“We do not wish to fight you Venomfang.” The druid says, “But we are willing to drive you off should you refuse!”
Venomfang laughs and a large cloud of green gas escapes. It’s heavier than the air and drifts down around the party causing them to choke and cough.
“The humans in the masks want me to stay and you lot want me to leave. What is a Drake to do?”
“Who are they? Why do they want to you stay?” Exil asks.
“The humans in the masks are hiding to the south. While I was out hunting, they came into my lair and stole 2 ROC eggs that I had collected. Very valuable. They said they would destroy them unless I stayed and let them worship me. I can’t risk killing them, I might not find the eggs. So, if you recover my ROC eggs for me, I will take them and relocate my lair to the forest. Obviously, this ruin is too close to humanoid civilization. I just want to be left alone with my hoard.” The party can make out a small pile of gold, silver, copper, and gems spilling out of a broken chest beneath Venomfang.
“Very well.” Exil replies. “We shall eliminate the humans with the masks and retrieve your stolen eggs. Do we have an agreement?”
“As you wish.” he grumbles. “Now leave, I grow bored with you all.”