Morthos Art

Morthos Art's surname is hint enough at his passion for music and harmony.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

A tall, lean figure with a wide chest. Not much to his arms, more to his legs from constant wandering.

Body Features

curved horns, roughly 30 cm in length
a red tail, 1.2 m in length

Facial Features

sharp nose and chin
eyes are solid black
no facial hair
high cheek bones
a few bony protrusions from the chin

Identifying Characteristics

dark spots all over the skin

Special abilities

Dark Vision
Hellish Resistance

Apparel & Accessories

a commoners cloths

Your handsome, mysterious bard to fill every tavern with a song and every fiend with sorrow.

View Character Profile

Alignment

Neutral Good

Children

Gender

Male

Eyes

Black

Hair

Brown

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Blood Red

Height

1.87 m

Weight

65 kg

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A Fateful Return
11th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Before leaving towards the Lurkwood the next morning, we stopped by the Golden Hammer where after some back and forth, we managed to get some diamond spell components for Kyla for the geodes we returned from the mines. From there, we went back to the Hall of the Alliance, to see how far Nada had gotten in her rummaging through recent reports. The dwarf complained briefly about our quick return and said that with more time, she would have had a more thorough look and could have sorted out some of the more fictitious sightings, but still presented us with a pile of documents, detailing her current results. A tremendous amount of work must have gone into this on her behalf already, and we thanked her accordingly for her excellent work. This would be something to browse through on our journey. Not knowing when we would next return to the city, Grum said his farewells with his family and around noon we rode our mounts through the south-westerly gate, back towards the forest. The days have grown noticeably colder this far north, riding our horses I for one was painfully aware of the steady wind cutting through thinner layers of clothing and wrapped my cloak more tightly around myself. It already was late afternoon when we reached the edge of the Lurkwood, where Grum took the lead of guiding us and our mounts under its canopy. Still, with the shorter days and thick leaf cover above us, it soon became to dark for proper travel and we found ourselves a suitable site to bed down for the night. Gathered into the little magical hut, and thus shielded against the cold and prying eyes, I took first watch as the others fell asleep around me. Browsing through some of the findings Nada had given us, I could not help but smirk at the nature of some of the beliefs held about the forest, especially with our knowledge of the very real existence of at least one treant and his promise that there were more, alongside a handful of dryads watching over the woods. But the belief of some hidden treasure, portals to other worlds and the sightings of strange creatures fell in line with what we had learned from Kyla and Teynos about these artefacts, and especially the powers ascribed to resting in a forest and with a world tree seemed awfully real in light of such myths. The sightings of gnolls and their tracks seemed to increase over the last month, and from my reading they seem to grow stronger and bolder by the tenday. And the creeping corruption seemed to be noticed a handful of times at least, although most wanderers based on these reports seem somewhat oblivious to the sinister powers seeking to take hold here. Still, the two mentions of elves between the reports and observations leaves me wondering if there is some more civilised society that calls the forest their home? Possibly something to bring up with Quercus when we next see him. Thus occupied, my watch went without further incidents until I woke Kyla to take over for me. This morning, Kyla and Nysqwen both informed us that during their watch they saw some shadow lurking outside our camp, Nysqwen described it as a massive spider, with a span of a good two and a half paces and a light blueish, almost white abdomen. However, as soon as either of them honed their gaze in on the apparition, it seemed to vanish in an instant. We did not find any tracks around our camp, but all felt a somewhat more watchful and sombre mood taking hold as we readied ourselves to continue our journey. We wandered on for most of the day. The paths we tread on grew noticeably less trafficked, the underbrush from both sides encroaching ever closer until we decided we would be quicker if we dismounted. The swirling black mists we had seen during our first visit, that were dissipated in the presence of Quercus’s influence, equally grew in intensity as we pressed on. An oppressive, tense anticipation took hold. It was after dusk, when we finally began hearing the creaking of deep, wooden voices and stepped out onto an ancient clearing under a starry, moonless sky. The place was overlooked by a massive, timeworn oak, older than the kingdoms of humans, branches like enormous arms stretched towards the sky. There gathered around Grum’s oldest friend, we stood in awe, the first humanoids in possibly centuries to see gathered the treants Mountaingiant, Barkwatcher, Mossbeard and Gloommoss, as well as smaller, lithe female figures, the dryads Quercus had mentioned, Thalassa, Lyndra and Sylvaria . A gathering of watchers, an occasion so rare it was the stuff of legends. As we approached, we just heard Brannwyr speak up. His bark was marked by countless winters and his voice resembled that of rumbling thunder in an autumnal storm. He described something pulling on their roots. A cold, one oblivious to seasons. Sylthara, a dryad, clad in golden leaves, whispered with a haunting voice like wind through a canopy in agreement that the trees muttered of disappearances. Their sisters in the outer groves wilted, with no reason or signs. The ground trembled as Gorlyn Ironbranch slammed a massive arm on the ground and moaned that this was no fire, nor the cold kiss of axes. He named it the void gorging. Then something changed. Something crawled over this clearing, incorporeal, not moving air, a stagnant, unfathomable silence that caused us all to stiffen up in mute anticipation. Quiet, scuffing steps as of leaves dragged over stone approached from the west. And from between the shadows another figure emerged, stepping between Barkwacher and Gloommoss. A dryad, yet – changed. Where once green, knowing eyes peered kindly over the forest, pearls of midnight black took in the scenery. The once taut skin now cracked, like dead branches. Malgara. She raised a crackling voice, filled with a coldness that so betrayed her role of a shepherd, proclaiming that where it had been spoken of disappearances, there on the contrary was no vanishing, no dying. It was a return. Brannwyr was the first to shake off his stunned state and called out in surprise that the once proud Malgara had fallen, to which she but laughed. A cold, lightless rasping sound that echoed amidst leaves and skin. She objected that quite the opposite, she finally had risen. She proclaimed that the lifeforce that the collective guarded so fiercely was never meant to remain with them. It was the feedstock for something larger. Something that stirs again. She opened her hand, a dark essence welling up from her palm, black as rotten wood, rising into the air. The surrounding trees began creaking as if under some unseen pressure. The treants next to where she stood were engulfed by this black mist. Ancient, proud bark wilted, cracked, rotted. A lifeless darkness settled into their previously gleaming eyes, the same darkness that covered Malgara’s own. The ground trembled, Roots retreated. And for the first time in centuries, the forest stopped whispering. Suddenly, massive spiders appeared out of nowhere amidst the gathering, matching the description Nysqwen had given of the apparition she had seen during her watch. [to be continued at a spot where Morthos would have had time to write this all down.]

The Path of Darkness
9th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Since it would be another day until we would have to leave for the gathering of the shepherds of the forest and Nada required some more time in her investigations to maybe give us a better picture of the forest and how it related to Kyla’s vision, we decided to spend the following day tackling the contract of clearing the mines of whatever currently was raiding and killing the workers. Thus, we descended via the central lifting platform to the lowest level of Mirabar, deep enough to find ourselves in the upper reaches of the Underdark. Upon arrival, we found ourselves in a large cave with multiple doors with heavy iron fortifications branching into surrounding tunnels. Each was guarded by soldiers of the Axe of Mirabar. Grum explained to them that we came on behest of their own organisation for the contract issued by Gruga Foehammer. We were pointed towards one of the heavy gates and strode into the dark tunnel beyond, the metal doors slowly closing behind us. We followed the main tunnel we found ourselves in for several hours and despite us not taking any major turns into the numerous forking paths, I still was relieved to have in Grum someone with us who would have a much higher chance of finding back to the exit than any of the rest of us. Occasionally, our path was lit up by the same glowing stones we had seen during our last stint in the Underdark, every spot surrounded by clusters of mushrooms in which Teynos took a particular interest. Multiple times in tunnels and caverns we came across prospective veins of precious metals that we marked on a crude map to include in our report to the Axe. At one point, Grum yelped joyfully and directed us to three small geodes in one of the walls of a diverging tunnel. Between his knowledge regarding such objects and our combined (well, mostly Nysqwen’s) brute force, we managed to pry them open, revealing pristine peridot crystals of a surprising clarity. The treasure was gingerly placed in the bag of holding, promising a returning visit to a certain Thei Goldsmith. Finally, we reached what seemingly was the end of the main tunnel we had been following, as it emerged into the larges cavern we had seen so far, rivalling in size the one in which we had found the kuo-toa camp. From our initial entry point we could not see the other side of the cave, yet a few hundred feet in the stone gave way to water as we found ourselves at the shore of an underground lake. Without any wind to cause turbulences, the water surface was eerily still, just as the rest of the cave, and in parts hard to spot, giving all of us wet feet as began circling the lake. There appeared to be a peninsula stretching into the pond, connected to the rest of the cave via a land bridge further to our right. With what little torchlight reached toits shore, it appeared that the area was overgrown with more of the gigantic, tree-like mushrooms we had also found around the kuo-toa camp. Suddenly, I felt Nysqwen’s incredibly strong grip on my shoulder, her other hand pointing to something amidst the trunks on the peninsula. A vague shadow seemed to amble through, its visibility at the distance we still were at an unsettling sign of something rather large. And then it emerged. Hunched forward, one hand leaning against the stalk to its right, the oddly shaped humanoid creature still stood a good twelve or thirteen feet tall, though at the distance we found ourselves and the meagre flickering light of the torch it was hard to tell where physicality ended and shadows began. Still, the buckled back and oddly disproportioned limbs spoke of something broken, alien to the more civilised regions of the world. Further observations were interrupted by the creature lifting something from the ground next to it and the massive boulder suddenly crashing into the wall mere inches away from Grum’s nose. A second, equally massive shape came into view, followed by a second boulder crashing this time just left of where Nysqwen was standing. With a cry that might have been rage but maybe mostly more so came from joyful anticipation, she began sprinting towards the creatures, around the edge of the lake towards the connecting spit of rock. The rest of us followed, drawing weapons and readying ourselves for the ensuing fight. Before she sprinted out of range, I just managed to bolster her with some additional haste, given that she would be the primary bulwark at the frontline in what I anticipated to be mostly a melee. As she drew closer to the attackers, she seemed to wince in some sort of sourceless pain, yet whatever had befallen her did not slow her steps nor diminish the ferocity with which she drew her glaive across the closest creature’s chest when she connected. The other creature did not stop flinging rocks at our charging party, hitting both Kyla and Teynos. Within the sudden burst of chaotic sounds, I was pretty sure to hear at least some bones crack under the impacts, yet neither combatant was thwarted for long in their run to support our dragonborn friend. Just as Teynos reached her side, a blazing light illuminated the battle scene as a wall of flames emerged amidst the two giants. Turning around, I saw Grum giving me a conspiratorial wink just as he veered into the guise of an enormous elk and charged towards the inferno. During the fierce exchange of blows between our side and the foes, Nysqwen and Teynos winced multiple times each without an actual physical blow connecting. Something else was assaulting them, less easily shrugged off then the clubs the giants were swinging. Kyla and I held back as best we could to not get in the way of our more martially adept friends and support them with both divine and arcane sorcery, immersing the scenery in an array of flashing lights and ominous cries. Teynos had decided that this was not the time for using his staff and instead relied on his fists to find weak points in the posture of the malformed enemies, eventually sending one of them to the ground which elk-Grum immediately used to trample the body further into the ground. It seemed a battle going well in our favour, until seemingly out of nowhere Nysqwen suddenly collapsed under yet another onslaught of whatever incorporeal force was besetting her. A cry almost in unison cut through the noise of battle, uttered from four throats at once as something rippled through her body, bending limbs in unnatural ways and pushing skin into bulges and lumps all over her body, then being forced back to its natural state. As the body turned limp, a sudden flash of pale light broke from something around her neck. Movement returned to our fallen comrade as with bloodlust in her eyes, Nysqwen pushed herself to her feet once more and drove her glaive into the belly of her attacker, deep enough for the point to emerge out its back. The creature lunged out for one more crushing blow towards her head, but the blow never had time to follow as the glaive twisted and was ripped out the side of the being, almost tearing the enormous body in half. Through all of that, Grum had engaged the other giant in a fierce exchange of blows and with Nysqwen finally looming victoriously over the mutilated body of her and Teynos’s adversary, I shifted my attention to Grum’s opponent. Drawing from the welling of anger over seeing my friend drop to the floor once more, even if for but an instant, I let go of some of the carefully constructed barriers, waking something deep within and beset the creature’s mind with the maleficent whispers of whatever drew my self to that horrid place again and again. Any compassion I should have felt upon the scared, pained and desperate look on the contorted face was swallowed by a hatred I had tried to keep at bay for too long that now broke loose in a maelstrom of irrationality. As the second creature sank to the ground where it stood, it took all I could muster to reign in that roaring anger and just stood there trembling as Kyla sprinted towards Nysqwen who just now seemed to began to realise the toll the waning of the haste I had granted her as well as the wounds the giant had left her with. Silence returned. The surface of the water beside us just as undisturbed as before, as if nothing of consequence had occurred just next to its lair. Scant of breath, Nysqwen told us that under the gaze of these strange beings her mind felt suddenly flooded with pain that reached far beyond what she was used to tackling physically. Teynos agreed that he had felt the very same, some alien power seeking to distort and convulse. Kyla inspected the pendant she had given to Nysqwen, the small raven made from the oddly glowing stone we had found during our previous visit in the Underdark seemed to have fulfilled its purpose in healing Nysqwen when it was most necessary. As there seemed no further immediate threat around, we began investigating the peninsula we were now on. Before long, we found a makeshift hut built from the trunks of the enormous mushrooms around, in dimensions suitable for the deformed giants we had just slain. The inside revealed rough, but by some standards comfortable setting. Much to our dismay, amongst what little proper furniture there was around what stood out the most was a crib for a child the size of a large dog. Thankfully, it was empty and by the look of things had been so for a while. Other than that, there were numerous items telling a tale of raids on roaming miners and soldiers, with broken pieces of armour, weapons and mining equipment being scattered along the wall on the far side of the entrance door. Amongst these was a small golden compass that still seemed to be working and some coinage that Nysqwen stowed in the bag of holding. With how battered especially Nysqwen and Teynos were, we decided to use this as a suitable spot for a brief rest. Kyla went looking for some more of the material she had made the raven figurine from and after a short while returned successfully. In the meantime, I took to inspecting the crib a little more carefully. All around it, I noticed simple carvings that seemed to portray various chapters of a life, from birth to death of someone much more cognitive ability than I initially would have ascribed to the creatures we just battled with. There were images of individuals socialising in families and smaller groups, depicting clearly conscious, intentional actions. Much to my surprise, none of the deformations that had covered the bodies now lying at the lake shore were visible in these pictures. Whatever happened and changed them seemed to have marked them as outcasts or deprived them of these more social traits. Upon sharing my observations, Kyla and Grum took a glance into some of the books they had with themselves, where Grum eventually found a passage describing these creatures as the fomorians we had heard about earlier that were said to plague the miners recently. They were an offshoot of giant kin that long ago had developed a highly complex and highly civilised culture with a special knack for magic. Eventually, they grew bold enough to attempt to overthrow all of the Feywild, which inadvertently failed and left them cursed, robbed of their former glory, beauty and brilliancy. One more in the long line of civilisations that were unwilling to learn that pride is always the herald of grief. When everyone felt ready to continue our journey, we collected the heads of the two falle fomorians as proof of our work and decided to head straight back to Mirabar to not have to spend the night in the Underdark. Kyla evoked a rite around the corpses which left them quickly decomposing to dust as we set out to retrace our steps back to the iron gate and into the city. Just after nightfall, we knocked on the door of the Axe, giving our report to the officer on duty as Captain Foehammer was preoccupied with other matters. We handed him the heads as well as a copy of the map we had drawn and received our promised reward. Then we returned to the Red Barrel. Sitting around our respective drinks, tired and aching but relieved that another task was delivered, Teynos spoke up. He explained he had spent the day wrecking his head why some of the aspects of Kyla’s latest vision had sounded eerily familiar. Of the twelve items she had learned of, he had read of six before. A long time ago, long enough that only a scant few remain that have still heard if its atrocities, there was a war amongst the gods, so he described. In this war, Lolth, dissatisfied with her position and gnawed by the maws of envy rose to tear down the Seldarine, the elven pantheon from their high seats in Arvandor. A selection of artefacts was made on both sides to aid in destroying the respective other. Amongst those, the books he had read in the library of his temple spoke of the following: - The Amulet of the Hidden Blade – a plain, black amulet with some hidden drow rune, only revealed by dark magic. The Chain of the Shadowdome – a jet-black, gleaming chain of linked obsidian splinters, surrounded by a sinister, pulsing aura. The individual links flowing like shadow, almost as if alive. The Blade of the Deep – a dark sword with a blade rutted by a shimmering black void, seemingly swallowing surrounding light and whispering ominously with each strike. The Shadowcore – a crystal of pulsing black energy, riddled with swirling shadows and mystical runes. The Cloak of the Spider Queen – a magnificent mantle of silvery spider silk, interwoven with Lolth’s symbols and studded with powerful protective talismans. The Idol of Lolth – an unholy statue of the Spider Queen with eyes fashioned from dark, living rubies. - The details of this war have mostly been lost to the course of time, but eventually Lolth was defeated and banned into the Nine Hells of Baator, while the artifacts allegedly were either lost or destroyed. What exact role the elves and drow had played in the conflict also is largely unknown. Teynos added that there were rumours of a legendary thirteenth artifact, an enormous, magical mushrrom, although I have my reservations as to the veracity of such a claim. What seemed certain though, was that should these items reach mortal hands, the world as we know it might be cast into chaos and disarray. As he finished his telling, that same sense of dread I had felt during the last evening had returned, my hands now cold with sweat. Involuntarily, Kyla’s original claims from when she first met us came to mind, of a darkness looming that somehow was tied to this little band of adventurers that we had just begun forging. Lolth, the Hells, dark artifacts that possibly partially lurked in the woods around Mirabar... What does this all mean? And why can I not shake the feeling of needing to question Anataea about all of this, or maybe more precisely this new acquaintance of hers, Birel. Or perhaps the Harpers might know something? Was this Imraloth tied to everything that had a hand to play in the summoning of Lystramon through the flutist? The Black Spider? You’ve always warmed me, Camp, that venturing into the world would mean a return home would never be the same again. But I would not have imagined this prevailing notion of darkness, overshadowing such returns.

Family Reunion and Ill Omens
8th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Our first morning back in the city was dominated by debates on how to tackle the multitude of tasks we had found ourselves with, both personal and with regards to our encounters in the Lurkwood. We settled on first visiting the Axe of Mirabar and began heading through the bustling city towards the central elevating platform. What a city! Despite the harsher conditions due to the proximity of the Spine, entrances to the Underdark and the often freezing temperatures, the colourful display of goods, services and individuals on this market day rivalled that of fair Neverwinter. The buildings told their own tale of a merging of dwarven and other cultures as long time ago with architecture changing with age of the respective structures. Yet even the newer houses showed the intricate stonework and sturdiness that so many domiciles in my home lacked due to its rapid expand to accommodate the ever-growing population of the port city. Every street here was lined by rows of gems set in the kerbs, though Grum quickly pointed out that they were not only worthless but vandalization also was cracked down on fiercely by the local law enforcement. As we descended the pully-operated lift, Grum in his usual roundabout fashion explained some of the general layout of the city. According to him, most of the lower layers to the city came to be at first through mining activities that to this day dominated the lowest reaches. While the first lower layer housed numerous dwarven shops, inns and other businesses, the main heart of their culture was the temple to Moradin in the undercity, surrounded by smaller shrines to the other Moradinsamman deities. Furthermore, there was the Hall of All Fires, an enormous cavern lined with furnaces that could house several thousand individuals. And of course, there was the Shadow District located in the temple of Dumathoin, that strangely well-known secret policing force of Mirabar. Dwarves accounted for roughly three quarters of the population, the remainder split between swirfneblin, halflings, a few humans, fewer dragonborn and tieflings and hardly any elves. When asked more about the various businesses one could find down here, Grum lost himself quicky in tales around the (in)famous Iron Hearth inn, which appears to be the place to be if one wanted to learn news about the city, find employers or employees, sought to drink oneself stupid or had literally any other business to sort out. When our descent came to a surprisingly smooth halt, we found ourselves in a circular room from which multiple doors branched into the various sectors of the lower city. From there, Grum led us through a handful of tunnels connecting vast caverns towards the central quarters of the Axe. The strikingly well-fortified building greeted us with massive stone walls and several guard towers overlooking the surrounding areas in which numerous barbicans testified the undoubtably well-trained and armed forces housed here. The military theme was continued by the interior facilities and furnishings we came across on our way to deliver our report. A gruff, older dwarf with a bald head but an all the more impressive, mighty snow-white beard introduced himself as Adrik and replied to our question about the issued contract of eradication of monsters infesting some of the lower reaches of the mines that these tunnels are underneath the city and as such the vermin crawling there would also pose a significant risk to the inhabitants of the city he had sworn to keep safe. For more information and a possible guide we should enquire at the temple of Dumathoin. Through his harsh exterior demeanour, his curiosity about our ragtag group could not fully be masked, and eventually Teynos began telling the tale of our encounter with the green dragon of Thundertree. At the mention of the giant lizard the old warrior immediately flashed a dagger and suspiciously glanced around for any signs of the wyrms in our vicinity but then calmed down and quickly was fully enveloped in the tale. Upon saying our farewells, he could not resist but ask us to tell him of more war tales when we would return, anything to speak to his martial soul, I presume, Once outside the fort of the Axe, Grum proposed to visit his family for a bit since he had some catching up to do and we were welcome to join and meet the other Rockbrews. Of course, we were all too eager to shed some more light on the enigma that was Grum and thus accompanied him to the largest cavern we had been to so far. The sheer scale I find hard to wrap into words that would do it justice on a meagre page, a hall so large that despite the various light sources of lanterns, glowing rocks and clearly magical lamps no ceiling could be seen. The streets seemed beset with even more gem linings than we had encountered before and the general worker attire of the citizens of Mirabar made way for more fine garments, silks and colourful attires. Clearly the more influential district in this marvellous place, if dwarven civilisations were anything like the ones above ground where those with money were those truly holding power. Grum temporarily dipped out of view into a side alley at some point and reemerged somewhat changed to how he left. His mottled brown cloak, partially stained travelling gear and boots had disappeared and instead he was now clad in a much more festive robe of some finely flowing material, clean, black boots and a golden chain around his neck with a pendant of the brewery guild. I had only seen him once in his formal garb, years ago when he announced the launch of a new ale in Neverwinter, and just as last time it was a bit of a hilarious shock to see my dear friend in an outfit that clearly was made for him a long time ago and he never got accustomed to wearing. Still, it sat surprisingly well and certainly made him fit in a lot better with the surrounding crowd than the rest of us. Before long, we reached our destination: a grand building housing both his family domicile and the famous Mirabarren Rockbrew Brewery, a pilgrimage destination for all that truly know their beer. Stepping around the front of the structure, Grum went up to an imposing door, knocked and eventually was greeted by an elderly dwarf in a simple robe that after an initial confused gaze at our friend fell into a wide grin (I could swear I saw the glint of a tear in his eyes) and greeted “the young master” back home. Grum introduced him as Hoisin, the housekeeper of the family who had known him since he was but a young pebble bouncing around the house (an image upon which we collectively had to hold in breaking into a loud fit of laughter). The two of them exchanged the major updates since their last meeting, Grum reporting from his success with his apprentices in Neverwinter and Hoisin surprising him that his oldest sister had managed to go through the brewery training even quicker than he had many years prior. This Jari Rockbrew seemed to now venture from helping their father run the family business in Grum’s absence to aiming to take parts of it over fully. As these tales were exchanged, we were led through magnificent hallways into a cozy living room lit by an impressive chandelier and dominated by a sturdy wooden table on the one end and an array of rather soft looking couches at the other. The walls were decorated with what must have been the de-facto heads of the family of the last few generations of Rockbrews. After what undoubtedly had to be Grum’s father, instead of his own portrait that of a young dwarven woman was put up as the last in line. The only trace of the only son in this generation of the family was a framed picture of the Rockbrew family on the mantelpiece. On somewhat tainted canvas, next to the stern features of his father and mother, a dwarf no older than perhaps ten or twenty summers cradled a baby in his arms with the older sister standing next to him. Our musings were interrupted by the door flinging wide open and a blur rushing into the room, flinging arms around a grinning Grum and immediately showering him with questions. We later learned that Loni, his younger sister, had perhaps the strongest connection still to him. Soon after her daughter, Ann Rockbrew followed to greet her son and other guests, visibly trying to keep a scolding expression for him not visiting for a decade while hardly containing a warm smile under the mask. She proclaimed that Jari and their father were still at work but would welcome us as well when they were ready. Grum immediately pulled out a flask for his family to try some of his own brew which they both approved of, even if Ann seemed somewhat surprised at the quality she undoubtedly found herself with. Together, we retold our adventures, earning plenty of disbelieving glances from Grum’s mother, while Loni hung at his lips with an admiration that had no rival. Half-way through our tale, the door opened once more. Jari Rockbrew, the probable heir to the family business, stood stoutly in the doorframe and greeted Grum brusquely but heartily. She appeared to have come straight from the brewery, clad in work attire, her short beard somewhat stained and accompanied by a strong smell of hops. She too got to taste his most proud creation. We all involuntarily held our breaths for her verdict and released an audible sigh when she said: “not bad.” When we eventually finished our tale, Kyla threw in that there were a handful of things we needed to still look into in the city and to possibly leave the family to their reunion for now. Thus, the natives to the city kindly organised a guide for us not to get lost in the many caverns of the lower part of Mirabar. Shortly after, a dwarf named Gloigur took us under his wings and following Nysqwen’s request, led us back to the upper city and towards the Hall of the Alliance. On the way, Kyla enquired about possible vendors for those seeking their fortune in adventuring and our guide named the Hall of Bright Blades as the prime arms and armour manufacturer and shop in the city. Further, there was Luizhana’s Emporium for all manner of magical trinkets and of course Pippo Proudfoot’s alchemy laboratory. These Proudfeet seem to have left their tracks all over the north of the Swordcoast! At the Alliance, Nysqwen took the lead and after brief introductions we were brought into a small private audience chamber. Before long, a brown-haired and -bearded dwarf entered, clad in massive plate mail with the symbol of Moradin embossed over the chest. Osrik Stonedigger truly was an impressive appearance, one that made it very clear that one would not wish to be on the other side of his war hammer. Together, Nysqwen and I told once more of the things that had befallen us in Neverwinter and on our journey here, expressing Lord Neverember’s concern regarding the current developments. Occasionally, Osrik interjected with clarifying questions, telling of his experience as a strategist and war veteran who knew which seemingly random events might add together to some larger picture. He also easily conveyed the sense of being someone who deeply cared about the people living in the areas the Alliance spread their influence over. He confirmed that the orc attacks descending from the Spine of the World had grown in number and ferocity recently and the mines continued to be plagued with all manner of uncivilised creatures. Mostly, they were in constant strife with the roaming duergar bands, but at least for a while now there had been less illithid encounters. With our tales involving various drow, he mused that there might have been a bit of a cluster of run-ins with the dark elves as of late, and some fomorians that seemed to revel in raiding mines. He spoke of rumours he had heard about gnoll activities in the Lurkwood, upon which we all exchanged knowing glances and I took the executive decision to tell him also about our run-ins with the humanoid hyenas, albeit without mentioning us knowing a treant of all things. Kyla described the markings that the leader of the gnoll tribe had displayed. The commander cursed something in dwarvish and identified it as the mark of Yeenoghu, a kind of deity that the gnolls worshipped, allegedly stemming from some deep recess of the Abyss and the literal father of their kind. According to legends, this being on occasion has roamed our own plane and usually left an unmistakable trail of destruction in his wake. He proclaimed he would need to mull on this and other reports further but if we wanted some more information on the Lurkwood or other things we should seek out Nada, the librarian of the Hall. Further, a friend of his, Dragan Rockbreaker, a captain in the Axe of Mirabar, might be a valuable contact if we wanted to approach the organisation on behalf of the Lords’ Alliance. We left Osrik with much to think about and perhaps more questions than we had at our arrival. Thus troubled, we immediately went to find this Nada he had mentioned and soon met with a dwarven woman in a simple robe and with small spectacles, that in conjunction with her short haircut and only mild fuzz around the chin made her eyes appear strangely large in her face. She told us that the main infestation that the Lurkwood was plagued with as far as reports in recent years went were giant spiders that seemed to breed like rabbits in the dark recesses of the forest. There were some other reports of more sinister creatures and she promised she would inquire and gather what she could over the next few days for us to have a look through. With this at least on its way, we let the Hall of the Alliance and finally stepped out again into the cool afternoon. Much to our surprise, where we were thinking of finding Gloigur, we found the dwarf in a heated debate with Grum who apparently had taken an educated guess as to where he might find us and now was deep in an argument whether bottom- or top-fermented beers were the way forward. The remainder of the afternoon we spent gathering various bits of equipment for us all. Teynos was on the lookout for a pouch for his staff and found a tailor that was willing to make one for the next day. Looking for a jeweller to part ways with the gems we had accumulated over our travels and to find some diamond spell components for Kyla, she eventually found a small shop called the Golden Hammer where Thei Goldsmith seemed to be well sought-after given the amounts of customers he could boast this late in the day. Master Goldsmith himself appeared as sparkling as his wares, with hair and beard richly decorated with golden clasps and pins. He gave us a good price for what we currently could offer and promised to make us a good price if we were to return to him with decent quality stones from further excursions. While keeping Gloigur well-entertained with what Grum referred to as a “Fußpils”, Kyla and I entered a bookshop where she looked for and found a tome about the well-established and more fringe religions and deities across Faerûn. I on the other hand found a massive book with collected tales by the famed Calimpanni author Sheherazade which I had been searching for for years. It even has an inscription, though it is in a language I am woefully unfamiliar with. From there, our path brought us to the Hall of Bright Blades, a two-story building that itself looked more like a fortress than a simple weapon shop. Multiple guards eyed us on our way towards the entrance, where we passed through some kind of magical curtain to enter the proper store. Upon striding through the slightly shimmering barrier, I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but the moment of bliss soon turned into bemused wonder (and mostly on Kyla’s behalf outrage) when we became aware that all our armour and weapons had suddenly disappeared! We were quickly greeted by a human woman who explained that this was a mere safety precaution and promised that we would get everything back as soon as we left. It took some convincing, but eventually all of us were content with what had happened, and we could resume our perusing of their wares. The interior of the shop was strangely warm and the prevailing sound of metal clinking on metal let us conclude that the forge associated with the store must be located just below the sales area. Further rooms branched off the main hall we were standing in, plaques proclaiming them as being dedicated to specific types of gear. The woman that greeted us initially led us to one of the rooms where she showed us bags in which the belongings of entering customers were temporarily kept so that we could access the wild assortment of collected weaponry that we would want to sell. The vendor then showed us various mundane and enchanted pieces that would be of interest to us, from which Nysqwen purchased a belt that promised a magical return of thrown weapons, and Grum a new sickle that had faintly silvery glowing runes engraved along the spine of the blade. From there, given the time of day, we decided it was time to loosen up a little after all the travelling and near-death experiences and go for a good ol’ pub crawl. Starting in the lower city in the Eye of the Beholder, we went through at least five establishments before, much to my shame or pride, I cannot quite decide yet, the evening became a blur of drink, song and dance with my dear friends. That berry ale from the Beholder though, I need to make a note of coming back to! Thankfully, this was not my first rodeo and I must have taken care to douse myself with enough water that when I came back to my senses on the next morning, my head was not an utter mess. Over breakfast, Nysqwen filled those of us with a spotty memory in that after an especially ferocious dancing fit, Teynos must have gotten lost somewhere while babbling something to do with his new pouch. Together, we set out to look for the half orc, with Kyla magically asking the Raven Queen for guidance in the search. We indeed found him at the tailor where he had commissioned his bag the previous day and was just debating that mushrooms should be just as acceptable a currency as gold, with them being so much easier to cook a meal from out in the wild than hard metal coinage. Sighing, though at least in my case also broadly grinning, we settled his debt and, led again by Gloigur made for Luizhana’s Emporium. Grum said he was not familiar with the place himself, it must have opened within the last 20 years or so. Our guide led us to what turned out to be a large tent in the upper city. However large it appeared from outside, much to my surprise it was a veritable tent palace on the inside with multiple layers, curtained-off sections and shelves upon shelves of knick-knacks, artifacts, scrolls, books, jewellery and weaponry from what looked like all over Toril. An old female tiefling with a voice in which I could get lost in greeted us and introduced herself as the owner of the Emporium. Everything about Luizhana bespoke a previous life filled to the brim with stories, many of which likely rivalled those collected by Sheherazade in outrageousness. Her dark purple forearms were covered in faded scars, her lightly curved horns chipped in places, yet her flowing green cloak avoided all the precariously placed wares in her shop with a dexterity that only came from immense amounts of practice in moving in just as precarious locations. The picture was completed by a three-eyed toad that squatted on the counter next to her and eyed us as intensely as Luizhana herself. The wares she offered were equally fascinating, though for the most part also just as pricey. Still, much to the generosity of my friends, I eventually left (for now) this tent of wonders with a shiny new rapier and a circlet that would hopefully aid us in some of the battles ahead. From there, we scattered for the remaining afternoon, with Grum and his sisters going to the Red Barrel for some scheming and Kyla, Nysqwen and Teynos to the temple of the Raven Queen to possibly gain some more information about the Lurkwood and possibly Yeenoghu. In the meantime, I retreated to my room for a few hours to work on some new material, so many new sights, experiences and impressions over the last weeks that want to be put into song! It feels like forever ago that I got to flex the musical muscles, about time to get a few lines on parchment. Eventually though, I headed downstairs to join Grum and the others. In the tavern room, a colourful human was telling a tale of the shepherds of the Lurkwood that are fabled watchers of all life that wanders within and protectors towards those that raise their axes without thinking. Allegedly, no one has seen these creatures in hundreds of years, and they only reveal themselves to those pure of heart and good of intent. I almost burst out laughing, side-eyeing Grum who wisely hid his face behind a tankard for most of the story. I approached the raconteur upon him ending his telling with a drink in hand for the both of us to hear about the origin of his story and opinion on its veracity. According to him, tales such as this were numerous in the lands surrounding the Lurkwood and while there may be some kernel of truth hidden within, it seemed an outrageous idea for beings as large and powerful as these supposed watchers to never have been sighted by travelling folk. Still, he agreed that it was a comforting thought that some forces beyond our immediate comprehension might strife for what is good in the world. Since he learned of my own profession in the exchange, he bade me to perhaps share some of my own repertoire, and thus the next hour was spent on a retelling of the story of the Rat King and how an illustrious band called the Greenscales saved the city of Neverwinter from certain doom. I might have taken a handful (okay, maybe more than a handful) creative liberties in the weaving of the tale and made sure that there remained enough wonder to have the audience question whether it all could be true or not, as one is want to do when trying to capture the minds of folk that want to escape from the worries of their every day lives. My fellow colleague shot me a curious glance here or there, but I made sure that the members of this adventuring group did not bear too close a resemblance with any of the people present. Just a bell ago, the others have returned and told us that there was not much new knowledge gained from the members of the temple. However, Kyla had been bestowed with a new vision while Nysqwen and Teynos got some more indoctrinations into the fabulous works of the Raven Queen by the local high priest. What she told us speaks of far worse fates converging than anything we have seen thus far, though some things in motion we might have crossed paths with. Just remembering her words sends cold shivers down my spine. Mystra, what does this all mean? As best as I now recall from memory, the vision went something like: Absolute Darkness, absolute Quiet. Then – steps in the dark, echoing in the Emptiness. A grey vastness begins taking shape, as far as the eye can see. All is covered in the splintered bones of the legions of the fallen. Empty eye sockets staring into eternity. A sudden flash of black as a mighty raven appears, midnight-hewn wings thundering through the emptiness. It circles above Kyla, whispering of times long past. Then a second apparition, this one a tall, veiled woman in a cloak of shadow and feathers. Lifeless, white eyes engulf the cleric, a gaze peering past skin and bones straight into the soul. “You seek answers, child of shadow… They have been hidden – yet not forgotten!” A waving of a pale hand, parting the darkness to images of sceneries that are contorted as through a veil of fog. A black blade, resting in a jagged chasm with walls of pulsing darkness. Hands of living shadow, grasping for the weapon yet being held back by some unseen force. A voice hisses from the deep: “The Blade calls – And someone will answer!” A circle of arcane weavers conducting a ritual, whilst dark fog condenses in their midst. Suddenly, a portal tearing open and from darkness a mask appears. A person snatches for it, their eyes suddenly peering empty, their skin turning a sickly grey and their mouth falling open to a voiceless cry, before falling to the ground. Another wizard stepping forth, unimpressed, picking up the mask. “Her whispering returns to mortal hands!” A crumbled sepulchre, deep in a forgotten vault. Ruins of black stone shimmering in the light of blue ghost flames. In the midst hovers a staff, pulsing with restless souls, fighting to flee their imprisonment. Someone approaches, his fingers meeting the artefact – a bloodcurdling scream tearing through the air. “The web of souls is cast once more!” The silk of the cloak glides through the hands of a young woman, a city of black stone and violet light at her feet. Her form begins to shift – skin turning darker, eyes aglow with a red light. She rises and spiders flock from the shadows, serving their mistress. “The mantle has found its new bearer!” A temple in the Underdark, forgotten and sealed. A band of seekers stands before an old statue whose heart pulses with Darkness. One of the figures touches it, then blackness swallows all light in the room. “The Twilight returns – and with it the shadows it casts!” Upon a black altar, surrounded by thick, violet wafts of mist rests a dark sceptre. A figure carefully steps closer, whispering an old incantation. The air crackles and dark vines sprout from the ground, form into claws and grasp for the one claiming the artifact. “It only serves one who is not afraid of the dark!” An old, forlorn gaol. Chains dangling from the ceiling, some empty, others still clasping the skeletal remains of former prisoners. One of the chains begins quivering, as if breathing. Then – a loud crack, the chain tearing the chamber apart with all its might. “Binding and Control – yet who is leading and who is being led?” An endless tunnel, swallowed by rock and darkness. Voices echoing in the void, but no source can be seen “A shadow, hidden even from shadows themselves!” A ruined temple, overrun by chaos. Amidst the rubble lies a golden amulet with a fine tear, covered with dark spots. Yet it shatters to dust upon a faint touch. “The hidden blade turned dull, its power waning with time!” A dull, empty shrine, covered in cobwebs. Where once was housed an idol, only a jagged crack in reality remains. “The fingers of the Spider Queen do no longer reach this world!” An ancient world tree, roots dug deep into the earth. Somewhere amidst its branches rests a gleaming shard, once an artefact of dark might. “The Darkness that it held was expended – But by what?” A dark forest, sick and cursed. Something slumbers beneath the ground, its pulse an echo of a former power. A finely chiselled face – Nature itself seems to tremble before it. “Neither destroyed nor forgotten!” The Raven Queen lifts a hand and the visions fade. Her lone voice remains, a cold echo on the mind. “Some of those forces have risen again. Others still slumber – yet their rest is not eternal. Those who seek will find them. The question is not if they will be used but by whom. Death does not forget – But sometimes the living remember too late!”

The Hyenas of the Forest
6th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

When Quercus had recovered sufficiently, we gathered to discuss our more immediate next steps. According to the treant, it would take several days to gather those that he was contemplating on calling, it is a rare occasion that such meetings are convoked. It was clear that we needed to return to Mirabar and settle our affairs there, speak with the Axe of Mirabar and convey Lord Neverember’s appeal as well as our report. However, for the there and then Quercus reiterated that the gnolls were the most recent symptom of whatever crept through the forest and were still occupying his own glade. He would be grateful for any support we would be willing to lend him with this, which we of course vigorously agreed to. Thus, accompanied by the shepherd of this forest we set off on the trail along the stream that we earlier had taken to reach Quercus. Before any of us could jump in to stop her, Nysqwen asked the striding treant if she would be able to hitch a ride amongst its densely woven branch-like limbs. There was no immediate response and for a few strides I feared that just after healing him, we had managed to greatly offend such an imposing creature. But my fears were snuffed when a barky arm wrapped around Nysqwen and accompanied by a brief, joyful shout lifted her onto what I can only describe as his shoulder. We continued our trek until nightfall, when we settled down to make camp. Quercus seemed to have forgotten (although I am now getting the sneaking suspicion that he might share more of Grum’s at times impish character) that Nysqwen was still perched amidst his form and failed to lower the dragonborn to the ground before a regular soft creaking of wood heralded that he had fallen asleep. Thankfully, the thought of spending the night stuck in the branches of a treant seemed to only fill her with more excitement. As we prepared dinner, some changes that I had barely noticed throughout the day became more apparent. Wherever Quercus strode for the previous hours, s tiny bit of colour and vibrancy seemed to have returned to the plants around him. And now that he was fast asleep amongst the far younger trees and brushes, this vibrancy seemed to creep outward from our camp, almost as if a breath of fresh air was drawn by the tarred lungs of the forest for the first time in a very long time. As sleep took our camp barring the lone watcher whose shift it currently was, there was renewed vigour in the sounds of wildlife all around the camp and when it finally came to my own turn the calls of nightly predators and rustling of their escaping prey had almost returned to what I had somewhat grown accustomed to from our wanderings over the last almost four months. Four months! It is hard to imagine a time now in which I would not have been able to turn to Kyla for advice in the puzzles that this world likes to fling at one every day or know that no matter what we cross paths with, there is a fierce glaive holding my back free as Nysqwen is so want to do. A time without the, though at times erratic, many different ways in which Teynos eases the trials and tribulations in our path with his light-hearted attitude and one or two well placed punches. And even the newly deepened friendship with Grum that seems to have grown to a trust that I hardly knew even within Cor. It seems like an eternity ago, that we have left Archie back with his old master, I hope the boy is keeping a stiff upper lip in the city, I cannot wait to return and share the many adventures we have had, respectively. But that also makes it almost six months now since Camp vanished. And there is still no sign of any explanation as to what happened to her or the others. I cannot lose sight of that task either! That is what friends are for, right? Hells, that is what knits this group together so tightly! To look out for one another, no matter the circumstances. Once we return to Neverwinter, Vivis, Dedash, Wolzira, Camp, I will not give up on you! We continued our journey the next day, further following along the stream that had led us thus far. Throughout the passing hours, at several points the mocking, hysterical laughter of what we could only assume to be gnolls broke through the forest, keeping us on our toes. Teynos and Grum were in the lead, yet in their attempt of looking out for possible dangers, ambushes or whatever else might have lurked for us in the underbrush, Teynos seemed to prefer spending his time in the front riddling Grum with Questions about the forest and parkouring through some of the low-hanging brushes. Unfortunately, one of his dramatic landings swung him right into our dwarven leader’s back who had just stopped to look at something on the ground, causing Grum to stumble forward and much to all of our shock dropped through the forest floor into what we then saw to be a pit trap. Mere heartbeats from catastrophe, with a speed that he had rarely shown before, Teynos grabbed hold of Grum, or rather, his trailing beard, and managed to yank him backward, saving him from the hole that he just accidentally had pushed him into. For the continuation of our journey, Nysqwen tried to occupy Teynos with pointing out various mushrooms in the forest, while a visibly more frustrated Grum brushed of his clothes and continued his lead now with a few paces distance to potentially disruptive half-orcs. Over the following hours, reaching past the furthest point that we previously had ventured upstream, the purification clasping to the surrounding thicket and choking the life out of the once-vibrant plant life grew more intense. The effect that Quercus’s presence appeared to have had on the forest yesterday seemed to struggle more and more against whatever darkness had taken residence in these woods. The swirling dark haze that had thinned ever since our first encounter with the treant by the evening grew dense enough that it seemed to almost swallow the last hours of daylight, leaving us in a murky, dampened and depressing atmosphere. Eventually, Grum was the first to call our intention to steadily more frequent and louder yelps and cackles that heralded the presence of gnolls in the not too far distance. Quercus confirmed that we were closing in on the glade that he formerly had called home. As we came closer, upon Kyla’s suggestion I spun an undulating weave of the faintest of melodies to shield her and Nysqwen from any prying eyes and in their company split off from the others to round to the other side of the glade and hopefully take the fell beasts in a surprise pincer. We took care to keep away from the sounds that gave away the location of our foes and thus it was not until the last minute that we got an eye on the encampment that the creatures had constructed. There did not seem much in the way of a camp as one might expect from more civilised beings. A handful of tarps were lazily draped over wooden frames, shielding some indiscernible items, while on the side facing our way, a collection of large, but empty cages were posted at the perimeter. Outside of these bits and two fire pits in the centre of the camp, there was no built structures of any capacity. A good dozen of the twisted, humanoid hyenas were prowling around, some engaged in cackling conversations with one another. Similar to what we had encountered in our skirmishes, amongst them were some that were of almost human height with much broader shoulders as well as some with completely white fur that was only dulled by the muck that coated their exterior. Yet, the most imposing figure was one that towered over the others by possibly another head or two, idly twiddling with some sort of a morning star that had three dark balls dangling from what appeared to be invisible chains. As they spun through the air and caught some of the fire light, it became plain that they were crafted to resemble tiny skulls. Several savage creatures looking like vicious hounds strolled through the encampment, dodging a boot here and catching a morsel of flesh there. The entire camp looked chaotic, with the only unifying property the many, many spots of darkened stains on the ground. When we arrived, we just saw how two of the regular gnolls seemed to dump something from a cauldron into the stream that was flowing by the opposite site of the camp. Before any of us had any more time to make any further investigations about our enemies, several huge shapes burst through the underbrush on the side at which we left our companions, as giant cockroaches sprawled forth and fell over some of the closest hounds. Nysqwen, Kyla and I used the moment of surprise to rush in, Nysqwen immediately darting for the giant gnoll, her glaive drawing half moons of dark red as it sliced through flesh and sinew. Instantaneously, the clashing of weapons, howling of combatants and cries of agony began filling the evening’s air with the painfully familiar chaos of a fight. I saw Kyla next to me shouting calls to the Raven Queen for aid and her magic enveloping several of the gnolls. I focussed on those that were slightly further away, desperately trying to stall them by filling their minds with illusions of twisting colours and disorienting sounds as Nysqwen got surrounded by more and more of the beasts. Vaguely, I could hear more than see Grum, Teynos and Quercus arrive through the forest, the dwarf soon veering into the skin of a giant elk whilst the others swung with staff and branch against the incoming foes. A sharp pain in my side twisted me around, losing any vision of my friends, as peering down, I saw two arrows protruding from my side, my shirt soaking up bright blood. Filled with panic, I could only watch Nysqwen sink to her knees under the relentless pounding of the flail of the presumed leader of the pack that seemed to hit her much harder than the small beads of the flail had any natural right to. She fought back to her feet, fending off the five other beasts that had crowded around her whilst slashing for the leader. Kyla sprinted towards her, surrounded by a darkly shimmering halo of spectral dark-feathered birds that hacked at any gnolls that dared come close enough. Two of the other gnolls had caught up to my position, desperately dodging and at times taking their attacks, I tried to think of any way to improve our odds, having lost sight of Grum and the others once more. There was something else. Something I felt stirring inside me that I had for so long managed to suppress that boiled hotter than I had consciously felt in several tendays. A burning rage and inexplicable, cold hatred for those that were opposing us, mixed with darker thoughts, almost more subconscious feelings than reasoned ideas, that even now I dare not write into these lines. Never before had this turmoil grown to that extent when I would have been at any conscious state of mind. And worst of it all – it promised power. A way out of this. Only half thinking I ignored the gnolls currently slashing at my heels entirely and ran towards Nysqwen and the bundle of attackers around her. As I reached them and saw the deep gashes and visible signs of broken bones on my friend, the only palpable thing that seemed to fill my mind was a searing desire to punish. Without fully realising I uttered a phrase in the damned language I so wished to forget every hour I was practicing my elvish with Kyla. Then everything vanished from view. A sourceless, all engulfing darkness swallowed everything around me, obscuring myself, my friends and everything else around us from any and all eyes that might have been upon us. Yet the renewed sensation of pain, as the jaws of one of the foes I ran away from clasped around my shoulder almost immediately fizzled the effect. The all-consuming rage still at the forefront of my mind, I ripped the wand from my belt and almost at random discharged nearly all its energy into the surrounding gnolls. But the overwhelming number of our enemies was too large. More and more slashes I felt ripping into my chest until the world was swallowed by darkness once more. The last thing I saw was Kyla and Nysqwen, possibly the two strongest people I knew, go to the ground next to me, their eyes hazed with the same veil I could feel drift in front of my own. I did not even feel my broken body hit the ground anymore. The next thing I can remember is glancing up into the face of a somewhat frazzled Grum, who, leaning back, reassured me that it was over. A mixture of relief and guilt washed over me, as my first thought was the realisation that against my fears there was no further continuation of whatever-it-was that seemed to have taken hold of me in the final moments in battle to lead me into another hellscape as I had been exposed to before. Followed by the second thought of self-scolding for that being my first thought as I realised that I still couldn’t see Nysqwen and Kyla. Thankfully, a hasty gaze around revealed them, battered, bruised but alive, sitting slumped down on the felled tree that the gnolls seemingly had used as a bench in their camp. Grum told me that after we fell, the remaining hyenas were beaten enough to not offer too much resistance any more to Teynos, Quercus and himself, leading to a quick end to the battle. According to the treant, this was the main pack that had befallen the forest, promising a more peaceful night from here on out. Hobbling over to Nysqwen and Kyla, they confirmed that they were all right, Grum’s healing magic had reached the three of us just in time to prevent anything worse. Together, we proceeded collecting what bits of value we could find in the camp and otherwise eradicating its foul traces as much as we could. Teynos carried over the cauldron that the gnolls had tempered with at the stream and presented us with a sickly dark brown ooze of which only a tiny bit remained at the bottom of the vessel. It’s oily appearance reminded us of the stream itself and thus possibly had something to do with its pollution, although none of us could fathom what it actually was the gnolls had been doing or why they were here. We decided to bring some of this substance back with us to Mirabar to have examined by someone smarter than us and repurposed one of the jars in which Nysqwen still carried around the mayonnaise that Archie had made many tendays ago. It had turned to something almost as rotten as the stuff we were now filling the jar with and I had to compose myself and suppress some fierce retching when I opened the jar, before I could clean it out properly. In the meantime, the others gathered a number of trinkets and baubles from crates that the gnolls must have garnered from travellers or stolen somewhere else, indicating that either we were not the first in this place or they had come from somewhere where people liked small statuettes, crates with gems and coins. Amongst the treasures were two larger medallions that were stamped with the emblem of the Highfield family, that Grum recognised, as well as, much to my delight, a scroll that seemed to bear instructions to a far more powerful translocation spell than the one I had used to dive after Nysqwen in the mountains. Yet the main object that we all eventually gathered around was the flail that had caused Nysqwen, Kyla, and as I learned then, Grum as well great agony in the previous skirmish. As it lay there on the forest floor, the bone handle looked almost inconspicuous with the skull-like heads loosely lying on the ground. Kyla was able to determine that it was surrounded by some sort of a magical aura but could not narrow down what kind of magic it might be, other than something dark. Teynos was the first to dare to lift the handle of the weapon upon which bands of dark energy appeared once more, dragging the ominous skulls behind as the weapon seemed to come to life once more as soon as he laid a hand on it. Shocked, he dropped it immediately and we all decided that this was nothing to be played with and to manoeuvre it as carefully as possible into our bag of holding, yet another item for someone with more knowledge of the occult to take a look at. With the perishing of the gnolls, the dark mist that was looming amongst the branches of the woods around us had noticeably diminished, giving way to the last bits of sunlight that fell through half-withered branches. Yet it did not vanish fully. There still was something deeper at works in this place, something almost like an alien will or entity that refused to be defeated just so easily. To distract myself maybe more than for the activity itself, I spent the next hour or so helping Kyla collect the bodies of the fallen gnolls and hounds and adding them to a funeral pyre. It never fails to astound me with what level of respect the woman treats the mortal remains of slain foes, regardless of how fierce a battle it was that needed to be won to get to that position. In treating all the bodies, I noticed an intricate tattoo covering the chest of the leading gnoll, depicting the flail that we had just carefully lowered into the bag by virtue of a piece of cloth as to avoid touching it again. Something about that image itched something in my brain, some old tails about something demonic, related to gnolls, of one of the many, many tales that were told to children that refuse to go to sleep at the time dictated by their parents. One of those tales that would keep the targeted child in bed but would render every thought of sleep mute with blood frozen in their little veins… The rest of the evening was spent pitching our camp slightly off the glade where I once more weaved the protective melodical dome around us to shield us from any unwanted gazes, beings or weather. And upon drawing a quick sketch of the tattoo that would not quite leave my thoughts into my notes, I followed everyone but the watch-duty-taking Grum to sleep. During breakfast on the following day, Kyla took another look at the ichor we had collected from the cauldron that was poured into the river. She determined that it seemed to have some sort of dark celestial character to its essence but still eluded any further pinning down. Following some deliberation with the rest of us, she then proceeded to kneel in prayer to her goddess to ask for further guidance on how to heal this blighted forest. Thankfully we were prepared this time and thus did not immediately freak out when she collapsed where she knelt, with suddenly entirely black, pupil-less eyes peering towards the sky. She came to a moment later and just repeated a phrase she had heard in her communion to “destroy the shadow that became matter”. None of us knew anything to do with this at that time and for now it therefore is added to the long list of questions we need to find someone with answers to. Finally, she took a second glance at the flail. With a brief rite, she explained she would attempt to remove any curse that might be set upon the item. Thus, placing the required components around the weapon she bade us all to take a step back as she began chanting her incantation. Nothing seemed to happen. Slightly irritated, she inspected the handle once more but eventually just said that if there was any such bewitchment on the item, it should be gone now and that beyond that it would need someone else’s expertise. With this final measure taken, it was time for us to leave and after a heartfelt goodbye we found ourselves back on our mounts on the trail towards the city. Grum was staying behind for a while as he said he had some other bits to discuss with Quercus, but eventually caught up to us, with the promise that we this time would return after just a few days. When we settled down for a break just after noon, we saw a swift shade gliding through some of the grass at the outskirt of the forest towards our group. Soon enough we found ourselves in the presence of an almost four-foot-long weasel that curiously eyed us and even more so the bits of fruit and dried sausages we were passing around. I will never quite understand how it is possible for something so big to look quite so cute, but we could not resist long before we had to share some of our lunch with the imposing rodent. Nysqwen once more put on her intensely concentrating face as she had done the other morning with the birds, and before long was involved in a seemingly animated conversation with the weasel that she afterwards led us know went by Wissel. Apparently, it had a huge family that were all starving, and maybe more to satisfy Nysqwen’s pleas than that of our guest, we ended up sending it off with a good chunk of our remaining rations. I suppose it can’t hurt to be on good standing with the local fauna, but somehow, I have a feeling that this might just be the beginning of a lot of food that would go right past our mouths. We reached Mirabar just a few hours before dusk. As our final stop for the evening before heading back to the Red Barrel, we decided to report with the local branch of the Lords’ Alliance to ask for a meeting to tell tale of what we had to report from Neverwinter and the Sword Coast. Grum lead us towards the massive, square Hall of the Alliance, central in the city and not far off from the seat of the Council of Mirabar. Trotting along the many colourful crests of the cities that the Alliance extended their arm to, displayed along the wall of the Hall, we drew our horses to a halt and were granted entrance upon Nysqwen presenting her Alliance emblem to the two guards posted outside. We stepped into a large hall, its walls draped with tapestries telling tales of the factions glorious achievements and headed to a counter at the opposite end where we were told that we would be seen at the following afternoon. With this accomplished, we have now retreated back to the inn we spent our first night in the city in and after enjoying some of the local Rockbrew although it did not quite reach what we were so used to from Grum’s own batches. With time to spend until the council of Quercus and his allies has assembled, I expect tomorrow to be a manic day of exploring this new city properly for the first time and tackling some of the tasks we came here to accomplish. Although it fills me with joy, having seen Grum reunited with his old, recovering companion, I am weary of the true source of whatever has taken hold of the Lurkwood. And I cannot quite shake the unsettling memories of whatever came over me during our close fight with the gnolls. Something is stirring in Faerûn and I am not keen of finding out what when it fully arises.

Reunited
4th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

To rest for the night, we slightly drew back along the way we came initially, taking care to mask our tracks as good as possible. After finding shelter in the slightly more comfortable air of the protective musical dome, we sat down and weighed our options for the coming day. Whilst we, especially Nysqwen and Teynos, had experienced first-hand how dangerous these woods have grown, travelling back to Mirabar would be a long journey and Grum grew more anxious with every passing hour that we did not find Quercus. But delving any deeper without Kyla’s aid might cost us dearly and surely, if we died here that would not help his old friend either. The dwarf suggested that come the next morning, he would be able to speak with one of the remaining forest animals and convince it to deliver a message to Kyla which could reduce the time it would take for us to travel there and return with her if she were to follow that missive. It would still take a good portion of the day of course for her to catch up but that might be the quickest solution. We agreed to go along with that suggestion and after drawing first watch I settled down in the centre of the hut as the others around me bedded down for the first night in the Lurkwood. Even for me who has lived almost his entire life behind the city walls of Neverwinter, the lack of discernible life in the forest amongst us was quite noticeable as things quieted down. Sure, there was the occasional cry of a bird and the rustling of some critter darting through the underbrush, but far more scarce and disjointed as I had encountered on any of our other nights in a forest, which usually were rather loud affairs. Whatever that black rot was that seemed to coat the water of the nearby stream, it almost seemed to draw or quench the life out from the woods around us. Thus, throughout my watch there never was any semblance of ease to be felt, just raised hairs in the back of my neck. Eventually though, without any noticeable incidents, I judged it was time for a changeover and I woke up Teynos for the second watch, slid into my sleeping bag and fell into the dark arms of slumber. I found myself in an unfamiliar place. A building of sorts, though more imposing in structure. A temple? Maybe. With determination I rushed down corridors as if I exactly knew the layout of this unfamiliar place and had a clear aim to this directionless running. I exited through a large set of doors – yeah, maybe a temple – and over a small square towards the edge of a surrounding forest. This one seemed more normal. My feet carried me over a moonlit path through dense trees and healthy, green bushes with an unfamiliar determination. Before long I came upon a clearing. But without taking note of its make, my eyes were draw to the silhouette of an impossible large, midnight-black bird, sharply contrasted by the glowing silver moon behind it. The huge raven dove seeking perch on a tree on the opposite side of the clearing. And looked straight at me. There was no escaping this unblinking gaze, black eyes like pools of endless shade in which I was beginning to drown. And then suddenly I was expelled from the dream and jolted up in the little hut into a low crouch, breathing heavily and cold sweat on my brow. And yet… there was this strangely warm feeling as if of the supporting hand of a dear friend placed on ones shoulder, promising strength and aid. I knew with certainty that there was something there, a mote of sorts that could be drawn upon in a dire situation yet why I knew this or how to use its effects I could not tell. I noticed Nysqwen, who was currently standing watch, turn around to me and with concern written plainly on her scaled face asked what had occurred. I told her about the dream upon which, with a contemplating expression, she reminisced that she used to set to the sea with someone who was versed in the art of oneiromancy and used to say that if birds occurred in one’s dreams that would be a good omen. Or a sign of an upset stomach, she was not too sure on that part. Given that we all had had the same food and I was not feeling sick, I chose to maybe trust her first inclination a bit more, but this was certainly something I would be keen to discuss with Kyla. A little more at ease after being able to talk to our gentle barbarian, I turned back around for some final hours of rest. During breakfast the next morning, Nysqwen was uncharacteristically quiet for some time. Her face was twisted into a stern grimace, almost intimidating if one wasn’t used to her during a fight. After a solid ten minutes of silence and unmoving, concentrated staring, her face suddenly lit up as she turned to the forest and called out to the surrounding forest in what sounded surprisingly close to the bird songs that were emanating through the morning air. A small, brown feathered bird that apparently was a bit more curious or brave then his brethren made his way closer to her and sang with renewed vigour. She joined into his tweeting but while she is a fabulous friend, a ferocious fighter and a caring creature in general, she definitely is not a gifted singer. Smiling through the gratingly discordant performance, the rest of us decided that it was best to let her enjoy herself and just chewed as loud as possible until the performance finally came to an end. The dragonborn and her new little feathery friend seemed to be communicating for a little while longer, until the bird eventually took to the sky. With an excited glimmer in her eyes, Nysqwen turned to the rest of us and explained that the little fellow had told her that the corruption we had noticed seemed to be the worst along the banks of the stream and then grow slowly less severe the further one was from the cursed water. Also, apparently the “protector tree” apparently had wandered downstream a long while ago which had worsened the whole situation. In the interim period, Grum had scribbled an astonishingly accurate looking map of our location in relation to Mirabar on a piece of parchment and now took his turn in calling down a bird from the surrounding foliage. In a far more sober, level-headed manner than Nysqwen before him, he muttered something to the animal before sending it off into the air again. He proclaimed that the bird would seek out Kyla and give her a brief explanation of our situation and instructions on how to find us. To bridge the hours until her arrival, we returned to the small clearing with the pond from which we set out yesterday for our search. As a point of refuge, I once more prepared the tiny shelter whilst Grum immediately began pacing restlessly across the glade. No words of solace would ease his mind, the worry for his friend written on his face plainly for everyone to read. Eventually, he said that perhaps if he were to more actively take another look along the riverbanks, he might calm down a little. Nysqwen accompanied him, promising to return within the hour and not get into anything too sketchy with just the two of them. Teynos and I stayed behind, in case Kyla would arrive during that time though with no certainty that the messenger bird had found her or if she had been able to follow its instructions. Teynos spent the waiting time by practicing some of his acrobatics which was amusing until I involuntarily found out that he put as much value into underwear as he did in a coat. It regardless helped to pass the time and thankfully the two scouts returned at the promised time. They had not found anything new but the bodies of the gnolls Grum and I fought the day before had been dragged further upstream, leaving nothing but grooves in the mud. Our conversation was abruptly cut short by the sound of something approaching up the path we had taken to get here and before long, the dear features of our half-elven friend came into view. Before long, in catching Kyla up to what had transpired, the conversation came to the dream I had experienced the night before and much to my surprise, Kyla apparently had seen a very similar vision and woken up with a similar feeling. Upon my descriptions she was certain that the building I had seen was the temple that she had grown up in and that, as far as the Raven Queen was concerned, we seemed to be on the right path given her beneficial regard. Whatever quarrel she might have had with her patron goddess she seemed to have sorted out as her genuine excitement about these news brought a wide smile to her face. I was of course glad that my instinct of this vision being something without ill intent seemed to be confirmed and returned the warm smile. Yet I am not entirely sure how to feel about being this noticeable to a god. Sure, she seems like a good being from all Kyla has told us and the gods in general were of course to be credited with all manner of fascinating creations. Camp’s enthusiasm about Mystra’s weavings in the world had been rather infectious and there is genuine gratefulness towards her for all the gifts she has bestowed upon myself and so many others to aid those around us. But it is one thing accepting that the gods were somewhere out there doing their thing and it seemed an entirely different ballpark to suddenly have drawn the direct attention of one of them. And why was there that shivers-inducing side effect of conjuring back up other visions of fire and anger, of other wills at work on the foundations of the world… Shaking myself out of these ponderings and following the words of Nysqwen’s avian friend whom she apparently unfortunately had not asked for his name, we all set out, following downstream along the shallow bed of the creek. Kyla took out her raven figurine and with a short phrase brought it back to life to have it scout ahead and keep a look out for the treant. We wandered on until nightfall, when we found ourselves a spot not too far off the river but at least a little ways away to have some distance between us and the strongest manifestations of the corruption. During our preparations for the night, the raven returned bringing word of a massive tree that stood out even if it did not fully fit the description given by Grum. This one apparently was half consumed by the dark rot that crept through the forest. With renewed hope but also growing concern, we all bedded down for another night in the dying woods. The next morning, Nysqwen renewed her attempts at coaxing the local bird population into accepting her as one of their own. Much to her dismay, the little feathered friend she made this time was not the dame that shared a duet with her the previous morning and when she turned her attention back to us, she cursed herself for once again not remembering to ask for the bird’s name. We quickly packed our things and broke camp to continue following the track described by Kyla’s raven. Over time, we noticed that the longer we travelled downstream and closer we got to the southern edge of the forest, the less intense the impact of the corruption seemed to get. Around noon we turned away from the creek and towards the clearing, the raven had described. Soon, we found ourselves entering a glade. Or what should have been a glade. While there certainly was a gap in the otherwise fairly dense trees, the entire clearing was overshadowed by the extensive network of winding branches of a massive tree. A good fifteen or so steps across, wilted leaves rustled from gnarled twigs cloaked in bark cut through by deep fissures. Black pustules covered large sections of the trunk and branches from some of which oozed a sickly dark grey puss. Aside of the smell of fresh forest floor, a sickly-sweet smell hung in the air, and we had to cover our noses as not to start retching. Throwing all caution to the wind, Grum immediately ran across to what he recognised to be his old friend Quercus. Huge, dark brown eyes opened and slowly turned in our direction, yet they too were fogged by some sort of dark veil. A deep voice slowly called out greetings to the dwarf almost sounding like the moaning of strained wood in a storm. While the call was ragged and broken at times, we all still could hear the voice of a creature that once without doubt was one clad in authority and power. And it drove a sharp thorn into my heart to see something this majestic being rotten away by some dark curse. Quercus’ attempt to tell Grum how the sickness had carried him off slowly were cut short by our companion quickly explaining that he finally had found something that might be strong enough to fight off whatever madness had befallen the woods, pulling forth the casket that Pyro had bestowed upon him. With the treant’s permission, the rest of us approached to help Grum in what was to come. As he opened the container, we found the thick paste to glow in a slight orange hue not unlike the essence of the flaming spirit that was consumed in its making. It was warm, almost hot to the touch as we all joined in to spread the balm across the rough bark. I cried out briefly in shock and surprise when small flames began dancing over the wood but quickly calmed myself as they did not seem to burn Quercus but rather engaged in a fight against the black ichor and cauterised the abscesses. The warmth emanating from the process seeped deep into all of us and seemed to bolster and incite our workings. After a few minutes, every last drop of the paste was spent. In a matter of mere moments, life seemed to flood back into the body of Grum’s friend. Dried and cracked branches bounced now flexible and green, dead leaves returned to a healthy, lush coloration, the veil that had clouded the treant’s eyes vanished as he blinked against the sun as if seeing it for the first time in many months. Still several islands of the rot remained upon his body, small patches of pustules or blackened grooves but he seemed vastly invigorated when he lifted himself to his full height and shook his impressive canopy with a low laughter that sent shivers through the surrounding ground. A commanding presence emanated from him as his old, wise eyes regarded all of us with what must have been a smile. It was quite hard to read any facial expressions from something made of bark. In his slow manner of speaking, he thanked us for this service, confident in being able to cope with what now remained of the corruption in his form. Kyla approached carefully to ask if he was willing to let her conduct some further examinations that might shine light on the nature of the plague which in turn might help us help the rest of the forest. While she did so with his consent, he lamented that he had been too weak to hold off any longer what seemed to have come down the river and not knew any other help than retreat. Kyla confirmed that the magical aura that clung to the remaining traces of the sickness on Quercus was the same that seeped throughout the forest. Come the next morning she might be able to further help the treant or we could try and find the origin of this and end it for good. The forest guardian stated that in all his time strong enough to do so he never found anything that might be the source to this madness. The gnolls that now roamed the woods were just a symptom rather than the cause, if he was at full strength, they never would have dared pester these grounds. Maybe, or so he reminisced, it was time to get together the protectors of the forest, Mountaingiant, Barkwatcher, Mossbeard and the dryads of the ponds, to march against this corruption. With this more uplifting prospect, we have now gathered around the more lively looking glade whilst Quercus is pondering who might respond or where they might be roaming currently. If someone like the treant was unable to fight back whatever encroached these woods, I am beginning to wonder if we might be in over our heads. Nysqwen’s fall in the fight against the yetis certainly was a wakeup call and I don’t know if I could stomach any more of those. But perhaps with the help of the forest guardians working together we stand a chance. Perhaps.

On The Search For Quercus
2nd of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Much to our surprise and somewhat to our worry, Kyla excused herself the next morning. She explained that after what had happened in the ravine, she needed to iron out some kinks she had felt between herself and the Raven Queen. Still somewhat uneasy with leaving her all to herself, we agreed to head out with Grum to hopefully deliver a cure to Quercus as soon as possible. Collecting our mounts once again, we left the city, this time through the southern gate, and followed the road upriver towards the Lurkwood. As one of the pamphlets on the notice board I came upon yesterday was looking for bundles of palmath, lunort and milort, Teynos was keeping an eye out for those, stating that he knew exactly what they looked like. He truly must have read a lot in his time in the monastery, given his extensive herbal knowledge! Quickly enough, he collected the first three handful of palmath as we took our first steps into the forest. In contrast to the woods around Neverwinter, the Lurkwood was more dominated by evergreen trees and hearty bushes and shrubs. It also was a lot quieter than what we were used to, to the point where Grum had to admit that it was reaching a point that was concerning. According to him there were a good number of strange beasts in these lands, giant spiders and occasional more demonic incursions, so it was well possible that something was amiss. The worry on my old friend’s face felt like a dagger in my chest, I knew all to well how he must have been feeling with regards to these discoveries and Quercus being somewhere around all this. The path became less and less well kept until before long we had to descent from our horses and mule and lead them along the way. Thick, thorny brown vines and bits of bushes tore at our clothes as we walked by in silence. Eventually, we came upon a spot Grum recognised. But where he knew once a clear pond was overlooked by an old willow tree with branches lightly brushing the shimmering surface and stretches of lush green grass filling the spaces between healthy plants and trees, we now found the tree broken, half toppled over, the pond covered in thick green algae. The grass was missing in many spots and what bits were left looked dry or rotten. Large bright red mushrooms stood in patches around the clearing. The water of the small stream that flew into and out of the pond now looked brackish-brown, matching the remaining picture. And no trace of the treant. We spread out to search for any hints that might tell us of the whereabouts of Quercus. The softer mud surrounding the banks of the stream had no traces whatsoever, not even of the expected critters and animals of the woods. Nysqwen and Teynos at some stage even took a step into the water but quickly withdrew as their feet and lower legs immediately were filled with a stinging sensation. With nothing to go off of around us and the stream being the clearest path through the thick underbrush, we decided to split up. Teynos and Nysqwen would be looking downstream for anything of note whilst Grum and I would track upstream. We had hardly ventured for half an hour when from the thicket in front of us, Grum and I heard a very strange noise, almost like the laughing of a hyena just slightly darker. We quickly hobbled the horses and sneaked forwards to catch a glimpse of what might be lurking there. Focussed on the presumed creature in front of us, we unfortunately missed a bear trap that Grum stepped into, letting out a painful grunt as the iron dug into his shin. I hurried to help him pry it off as we heard the laughing sound coming closer. We managed to get him free and rushed into the surrounding trees as the creature came into view. It indeed closely resembled a hyena, if a hyena could walk on two legs, was as tall as a man and carried a large, rusted spear and armour. Grum later would tell me that this in fact was a gnoll, a strange humanoid race that was known for its innate propensity to violence. The gnoll began searching around, sniffing the air like a hunter’s dog might for frightened game. I managed to distract it by mimicking the sound of departing footsteps a little further into the forest, upon which it immediately snapped towards that direction and set off through the trees. We met up again and silently agreed to follow the gnoll to hopefully find out more about what was going on here. Grum informed me that they rarely were abouts alone and we should therefore expect to run into more of them. We tried following the hunter as stealthily as possible but unfortunately with his injured leg, Grum was unable to avoid many of the smaller twigs on our path, resulting in a constant low snapping and crunching sound. Just a few paces later we found the gnoll again, unfortunately for us though, there were five more that immediately pulled their weapons on us. Glad to no longer have to uphold the masquerade of silence, Grum quickly commanded a large piece of forest floor to erupt around the gnolls whilst I conjured up the tantalising image of some of the intricate patterns that I had seen in the Harpers’ hideout in Neverwinter and managed to hypnotise four of them before escaping from the immediate scuffle. The remaining two lashed out with their spears against Grum but he veered into the shape of a giant snake. Without much issue, we quickly dispatched first of the two attackers who still were awake and then of the remaining dazed gnolls. Once the last foe fell and silence returned around us, Grum changed back into his dwarven form and we went to investigate the fallen. Whilst they did not have much on them outside a few coin that they must have taken from some unlucky traveller, their dark, thickly flowing blood seemed to almost soak into the forest floor like a pint of ale down the gullet of an old drunkard. As it seeped into the ground, all the plants in the immediate vicinity seemed to wither and took a slight shade of grey. Clearly, somehow the corruption around the stream and the pond must be connected to this but neither Grum nor I knew how this would have come about. Especially given the humongous spread of this foulness, I do not really dare to think what must be necessary to cause such an effect. Ungodly images of rancid sewers and masses of rats that almost moved like liquid through narrow streets involuntarily flooded my mind, causing me to slump to the ground. Grum’s reassuring hand fell on my shoulder and calmly he suggested that it might be time to head back and meet with the others to judge how we would go about this. After all, chances were that if we encountered gnolls, they likely would not have fared much better. As we arrived back at the pond, Nysqwen and Teynos were already there. My stomach dropped once more upon seeing that they looked a lot rougher than us. They explained that indeed they also had run into a group of these gnolls, including one that was a good bit broader than the rest that seemed to have some sort of commanding rank and one that almost was albino white. They had definitely fared worse with Teynos being struck down at one point only to be saved by a timely healing potion from Nysqwen. Aside the lack of her companionship, this once again hammered home the essential part Kyla played in our travels and having her not with us could already have cost us dearly. With the encroaching woods around us and the sun almost setting, it is probably not a good idea to attempt to travel back to Mirabar this evening and draw more attention our way. But we definitely need to rest up before we can do anything more. And Grum might give himself calm and reasoned for the moment, but I have been around him long enough to feel the anxiety he holds with regards to Quercus. There has to be something we can do about this!

First Steps in Mirabar
1st of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

We all slept in the next morning. Eventually, Adrik shouted us awake and together we all set out for the trek back to the Blackford Road. It took the majority of the day before the familiar walls of the Frosty Tankard came into view around a bend in the road. After being served a very hearty dinner and some of the eponymous drinks by Bert, we all shared some more stories with Adrik and his companions. They told us about their exploits in and around Mirabar and mentioned, that in the upper city the Red Barrel was a good inn for a first stop if one wanted food, drink and rumours while in the subterranean half of the city, the Iron Hearth was a fairly welcoming establishment. Although that part of course only was accessible to its inhabitants. Whether we would be able to get in as Grum’s escorts was not entirely certain. Grum however mused that the Red Barrel was indeed an interesting spot and that for years he had wanted to steal its namesake from the main tavern area. Apparently, it was like a local sport or dare for some claim to fame if one managed to purloin the rather large keg. Fuelled by more drinks and tales, the evening soon drew to a close and all of us were glad to be sleeping in a proper bed again. When we awoke on the next morning, the other troupe had already departed. Thus, after a quick breakfast we saddled our mounts and continued our journey to Grum’s homestead. The next three days saw little excitement, though I cannot stop marvelling at the mountainous landscape around us. The roughness of the land and the constant vista of the snow-capped peaks looming not far above us has an impressive aesthetic that will certainly be fuel for one or two new songs. Every so often there were smaller paths branching off the main road with signs calling out mines or smaller villages. Occasionally there were other roadside inns although we only stopped to sleep at night and otherwise kept moving. In the late afternoon of the third day, our destination came in sight. Mirabar, the northern-most and perhaps richest city in the Sword Coast rises high between the deep gorges that carry the rivers that here join to form the Mirar. Its massive walls appear as a seamless extension of the cliffs falling down towards the water. Heavy drawbridges cross the canyons and lead to fortified gatehouses, wide enough for two carts to easily travel side by side. The walls as well as the gate are under constant patrol of the Axe of Mirabar, the standing army of the city. On immediate first impression it becomes blatantly obvious that this place has seen it’s fair share of battles, sieges and other catastrophes and yet holds an iron will to relentlessly stand its ground, opposing all the threats the Spine of the World holds for civilisation. As we approached, various carts of presumed mining exploits made their way in and out of the city. Grum led us to the guards at the gate, stating his name and citizenship of Mirabar and proclaimed we had important news from the south to share with some of the people in charge. Despite being recognised, it did not go unnoticed that upon a seeming glance toward his striking beard the men and women at the gate seemed to be unable to hide an almost mocking grin. Even back in the Frosty Tankard we noticed that the people of these lands seemed to have a rather strict fashion with regards to facial hair styles and apparently Grum was a lot more liberal about this apparently very central tradition. Nonetheless we were welcomed in without much hassle and were finally allowed to cross the wooden drawbridge into the outskirts of the upper city. As we walked by, we caught a glimpse of an extensive harbour far below us about which Grum explained that the only direct path there led through the lower city. He further pointed out that this was one of three gates, the others being at the south side with another bridge across the second of the joining rivers and on the north side, underground, leading deeper into the mountains. Given the city’s predilection for trade it was no surprise that each gate is surrounded by several proprietors of caravansaries. Once we had passed through the almost ten paces wide walls and scaled the steep path leading to the upper city, we found ourselves amidst squat stone houses and the bustling crowd of a crafts and artisan district. Much to my personal surprise, the overall populus appeared a lot more varied where I had expected predominantly dwarves. But while elven features seemed less common in these parts, Moradin’s children share this place with a colourful collection of humans, halflings and gnomes. I even spotted a few other tieflings in the crowd. Grum headed straight for the Red Barrel, us in tow. We went past the Undercity Square where our friend explained was not only the largest market square in the upper city but also a large platform that allowed travel between the two layers even with bigger carts. And true to his words, just as we walked past, a bell rang and a round dais with a covered wagon and a handful of smaller carts began slowly descending, bringing the dozen or so people and their vehicles quickly out of view on their way downwards. Eventually, we entered the tavern where the eponymous barrel stood rather prominent in the centre of a large main room. Had we expected a regular, red coloured keg, gods would we have been wrong. The barrel was almost as high as the room, measuring a good two or three paces in diameter. Around it, on smaller barrels, the countertop was placed, forming a central round bar at which despite the early hour a good few patrons were drinking and talking away the afternoon. Warm fire light, mixed with what daylight made it down into the tavern and an assortment of seating arrangements made for a welcoming, cozy atmosphere. Grum walked up to an older dwarf (meaning he definitely must be in his hundreds), greeting him heartily as Thorin and introducing us to the proprietor of this establishment. The innkeeper welcomed us all with a broad smile and quicker than we really processed presented all of us with a mug of Thorin’s Superbrew, apparently his most sought-after line of beer, which indeed was rivalling Grum’s own products in quality. According to Thorin, the Rockbrew beer was on the decline ever since Grum’s father withdrew from the business, upon which I definitely noticed a slight twitch in my old friend. Hard to say with Grum what emotion exactly accompanied this revelation, but I can’t imagine it being a too pleasant one. Thorin must have sensed the same as he quickly changed subject and grinningly asked if Grum if he still had an eye on that barrel of his which equally brought a sly grin on his face as he replied that it was hard to forget something that magnificent. In the ensuing conversation, we learned that at least as far as the innkeeper was concerned, the commotion in the mines was nothing much out of the ordinary and he trusted the Axe to make quick work of whatever was going on. We learned that the seat of the Lords’ Alliance here was in the Undercity, similar to most of the older trading families and businesses. We shared some of the news we brought from Neverwinter, and he expressed a special interest in the Stoneseekers, as he had heard tale of the liberation of some ancient mine in the Sword Mountains. I did not hesitate long before I grabbed my trusted lyra and began weaving the ballad of “An Echo In The Cave”. As the first chord filled the tavern, I instantly realised how much I had missed this. I barely noticed the heads of the other patrons turning our way as I quickly lost myself in the tale I was telling, the interplay of melody and harmonies and the expression of tension and adventure. Soon, the only thing I sensed was my own breath and my fingers dancing on the strings of Rattlepike’s old instrument. No cheap tricks of magical enhancements this time, I was simply enjoying the purest form of the art I had grown to love over the last three decades. Any sense of time vanished. Only by the end of it, as the last notes rung out, awareness came back to me as the cheers of the crowd reached my ears. There is just nothing better than entertaining folk and giving them a brief moment of relief from whatever things they might be wrestling with in their own life. Whilst I was revelling in the rush of performance, Kyla and Nysqwen were rather quick in accepting the coins the audience was willing to spare for this impromptu spectacle. Thorin came over to me with a wide grin and proclaimed if ever I wanted to play at a later point in the evening with more folk gathered around, I was quite welcome to do so. A little while and a few drinks later, we all were contemplating how to continue from here. Grum was rather eager to see Quercus as soon as possible and thus this would likely be our plan for the following day given the at this stage rather low sun. Nysqwen, Kyla and Teynos were keen to try some pebble baths for the evening whilst Grum was just happy to have a chat with Thorin and an early night’s rest. As for myself, I was burning with curiosity for this new and wonderous city and thus decided to take a bit of a stroll. Wandering through the streets, it became rather obvious how wealthy the city must be. In the evening sun, every so often small semiprecious stones glinted with an orange hew along the curbs, many entrances to larger buildings were embossed with particularly shiny pieces of metal. Grum had told us about the knowledge of creating everbright pieces being specific to Mirabar and they seemed eager to demonstrate the world its beauty. The display was not overbearing but certainly noticeable and had a stark contrast to the district of especially my youth. The overall atmosphere was exuberant, the ending of the workday caused a great many toasts to be called from the various inns around the city and people in the street were bantering about mostly inconsequential things. The attacks we had heard about in Neverwinter did not seem to be much of a conversation topic at least in this part of town. After a while, I noticed two figures clad in darker leathers and with their faces mostly hidden by fur-lined hoods. I gave in to a gut feeling and began following their steps through more narrow alleys, taking care to stay unnoticed by the duo. Eventually they stopped at a fork in the jitty. Small bits of their conversation were carried by the wind, and I overheard something about sabotage around Mithral Hall although I was unable to glean whether they were the ones sabotaging or the target of said meddling. Not wanting to risk detection, as they headed off, I decided to return to the main streets. Being caught up in these things alone and on the very first evening in the city just would not sit right with me. Instead, I turned my attention to finding what I had been told was called the Borough. Not far off the central Undercity Square, I came upon a small park with a still pond that reflected the last of the sun’s light for the day onto the surrounding buildings. In moving past, with one of those reflections I caught the brief glint of the symbol of the Harpers on the side of a small, somewhat crooked building with a single chimney that stood off in an odd angle. After my knocking on the door remained unanswered, casting a brief glance over my shoulder for any suspicious onlookers, I opened the door and entered the house. Having the declared aim in my head to converse with Adran, the Fox, I found myself in a cozy study, not unlike Nissa’s office in Neverwinter. Though, this seemed a little bit more chaotic and smaller, whilst at the same time having significantly more cushions around. Behind the central desk sat an elven man of undeterminable age. His facial features surprisingly closely resembled those of a dark-furred fox that curled on the desk between us as he looked up to me from inquisitive brown eyes. As I introduced myself and stated how I came here, his expression softened and he bade me to tell the full tale of how I became tangled up with the Harpers, confirming that he indeed was the man I was looking for. I gave him the abbreviated tale of our adventures over the last two or so months and especially pointed out the encounters with Lystramon and the suspected drow activities all across the greater Neverwinter region. He listened intently, thanked me for the news and accepted my offer of help for the next while. He agreed that there might be something bigger going on that one should keep an eye on. He equally would let me know if he learned of any further developments. No wanting to immediately strain this new connection, I decided to keep my questions with regards to missing people to myself for now. Let’s see how this Fox will play out over our next interactions. With these new impressions in tow, I made my way back to the Red Barrel, though not without stopping at a local notice board and noting down some of the tasks that were on display. A successful evening overall and now I shall be glad to fall asleep to the more familiar nightly sounds of drunkards, wandering guards and snoring from adjacent rooms. The road certainly is an exciting place with many wonderous sights, but cities are just so much more homely!

Always Keep A Door Up Your Sleeve!
27th of Eleint, 1481 DR

In the late afternoon of leaving the surmised lair of the chimeras, we arrived at a fortified building, surrounded by a thick wall of massive stone blocks. A sign above the entrance denominated this as the Frosty Tankard, an apt name given that the land in these parts would be covered in a thick white blanket at almost all times. As we dismounted and left the animals in an adjacent stable, we once again were rather grateful that we are still in the last stretches of summer. The sound of several conversations spilled through the door as we entered the tavern. A quick glance through the room showed several groups of travellers, enjoying drinks served by a human bartender in probably his late fourties. Red and yellow flames danced over crackling wood in a fireplace on the far wall of the room, illuminating the white-furred head of what Grum later explained was a yeti. Two of the groups present reminded us of the folk we had met in Miner’s Exchange in Phandalin and thus were likely prospectors looking for or after mines in the area or passing through between Mirabar and Luskan. Grum guided us to the third group however, after spotting a sigil of a dark-red, double-bladed axe with a pointed hilt that he identified as the insignia of his home city. On our way, he had already told us that there was almost no crime in Mirabar, mostly due to the activity of a group known as the Shadow District that acted as an executive force of the local law and spies to keep the peace. As we were walking over, he mumbled that they might be part of that particular organisation or perhaps belonged to one of the trading posts. Grum greeted the five with the words “The Stone greets you”, what I can only assume to be the local way of introducing oneself to strangers. A dwarf in their group raised his metal tankard and repeated the phrase, introducing himself as Adrik Stonehammer. While the innkeeper, Bert, saw to our drinks, Nysqwen wondered aloud if there was a local speciality to which he smirked and said he would return with a round of frosty tankards, Adrik explained that he and his compatriots were an adventuring troupe that currently came from Mirabar where they were bestowed with the task of eliminating a group of yetis that had been spotted in the area. Teynos’s remark that yetis were known to be solidary creatures, he waved away and laughingly explained that they lived in smaller groups of families or tribes in the lower mountainous spurs of the Spine of the World. We pulled over another table and exchanged stories from our respective adventures. When I was mentioning our stint in Phandalin, they perked up, Adrik saying that he had heard of the Stoneseeker brothers who were rumoured to have found the lost Wave Echo Cave with the help of a group of nameless adventurers. I could not help myself but had to give a frosty-tankard-fuelled rendition of the Ballad of the Mine that told of our imprisonment of the Black Spider. We talked, laughed and cursed this way until late into the night, the other groups had long left to their respective rooms, when eventually Adrik suggested a little friendly competition. With a grin at Nysqwen and Teynos and a wave to two of his human companions he proposed a little arm-wrestling contest. Grum immediately bet a gold piece on the dragonborn who was visibly happy to leave some of the talking to her impressive biceps. Accompanied by a jaunty little tune, she and the first human settled down at the table. At first it looked like her hand got pushed worryingly close to the table, but with another swig of ale and some encouraging words she fought back and after a tense fight slammed her opponent onto the wooden slab. His place was swiftly taken by a dwarf and for the longest time it seemed he and Nysqwen were an even match. Grum and Adrik doubled their bets but after a long struggle and many spilled drops of sweat at least on the dwarf, Nysqwen once more came out victorious. Grum himself gave it a go against the spokesman of our newfound friends but was no match for the definitely more muscular dwarf. Finally, Teynos squared off against Adrik. I am not quite sure what happened, I merely saw Adrik freeze for a beat as Teynos slammed him onto the table seemingly without much of a fight. With a nervous chuckle the dwarf admitted his defeat but threw a weary glance at the half-orc. After another round of drinks, they proposed a different kind of competition. Their current contract had been issued by Gruga Foehammer, the commander of the Axe of Mirabar which seemed to be its standing army. Yetis had been sighted not too far into the northward mountains from this inn and the quicker this was done the better for everyone involved. It seemed, that Mirabar experienced a problem of an increase in frequency of attacks on their mines in recent weeks. Thus, they proposed making a race out of whoever would first manage to take care of the furry problem, winner would claim the reward offered by the city. They told us we were welcome to sleep a night on the offer and soon after excused themselves towards their rooms, chanting dwarven drinking songs on their way. We all were rather inclined to agree to this deal, as we had little to lose should they manage to beat us to the yetis but also considered it to be for the better to get some rest first. Bert provided us with three rooms and agreed to wake us for breakfast the next morning. After a restful night in proper beds, we all gathered back in the tavern early on the following day. Whilst Kyla and Nysqwen stuck with some milk, the rest of us would not let the opportunity slip to have another one of these frosty tankards. Over breakfast, Nysqwen wondered if yetis were as dangerous as they were made out to be to us last night, or if there was a way to settle this without slaughtering the cryophilic creatures. Grum answered that they were the bogeymen of childrens’ good night stories in many places this far north. He described them as ruthless predators that definitely could pose a serious threat when in numbers. We figured that doing this job also might bring us to a good standing with Mirabar, if we wanted to act to improve the relations with Neverwinter to work together against whatever was going on along the Sword Coast at the moment. We told Bert that we agreed to the competition we had discussed last night and with a nod he handed us the letter that was left by the other group that contained details on the contract. He also informed us that the others had already left a while ago and therefore had gotten a good head start. Cursing, we quickly gathered our things to set out. Apart from finally learning that the reward was a round thousand gold pieces, the letter also contained a description of the location of the yeti-sightings and how to reach it from the Frosty Tankard. We thanked Bert, gathered our mounts and soon after found us diverting on to a small path that meandered into the foothills around the inn. A little later, we came upon the clearing that was described in the note from the Axe of Mirabar. By now, the slopes around us were starting to grow steeper and most of the trees around us now were evergreens. We dismounted and scanned the area for any signs of tracks that might give away any information on our pray. Indeed, we found several of the lumberjacks that appeared to have left in a tremendous hurry. One of the trees still had an axe embedded in its trunk, only half yanked out. There also were clear traces of a group of five individuals that left the clearing in a north-easterly direction. Following the latter, our pace slowed noticeably with the incline. On the way, we were discussing possible tactics, from head-on confrontations (Nysqwen’s definite favourite) over trying to communicate with the yetis to potentially setting a trap. But we all had to admit that we knew very little about what we were getting ourselves into and would have to play it by ear depending on what we would find higher up in the mountains. Before long, we came to the foot of a sheer wall. Judging by Grum’s knowledge of the preferred habitat of the yetis being higher up in the snowy regions of the mountains, we decided that in order to hopefully catch up some on our competitors, rather than trying and finding a safer but longer way around this obstacle, we would try and scale the wall head on. Grum offered to use his giant spider form to carry up a length of rope to allow us to ascend the wall in sections. From our position, it was hard to tell how high the cliff might be in total, we barely could make out shallow ledges that might be usable as steps in this mad idea. It took us the better part of the remaining afternoon, but tired, exhausted and slightly shaken from multiple instances of rock crumbling under feet and falling significant lengths, we all reached the top. Now, almost a thousand feet higher, we were rewarded with perhaps one of the most beautiful sceneries that I have been privy to yet. Around us, snow was beginning to cover the brown and grey rock, glimmering softly in the setting sun. Over the edge, we could look out over rolling forests, the dark band of the Mirar cutting through the land and the majestic Neverwinter Woods behind that. On eyelevel now with many of the birds of the lower land, I must have audibly gasp as I gazed out towards the west and beheld the sheer endless expanse of the sea. Nysqwen next to me appeared to be just as enchanted by the view as I was and I could see the deep longing in her eyes, as she took in the ocean. It was surprisingly quiet all around us now, the snow seemed to swallow many sounds. Only the wind seemed to never fully seize blowing in these heights. We agreed that with night coming upon us, we would hardly find anything useful anymore and hunkered together in the little protective hut granted by the song I wove around us. Instantly it grew warmer as well and Teynos, who so far had refused to put on any sort of coat stopped shivering miserably. Soon after, we all bedded down for our first night in the mountains. After breaking camp the next morning, we walked up to the edge of the snow fields but were unable to find any hints of the group around Adrik having been here recently. Grum pulled out something small from his pouch and muttered something intelligible. He explained that should any yetis be within a certain distance to us for the next little while, he would know and would be able to warn us. Thus prepared, we began our track through the valley between two majestic mountain peaks. The sun had just risen fully as the sky grew darker. A gentle snowfall set in that however soon grew in intensity, impairing our vision rather heavily. At this point, everything around us was just white, only broken by the occasional bit of rock shining through under a ridge, it became harder and harder to make out significant shapes. Eventually, we came upon a broad ravine, the sheer cliff vanishing into darkness beyond sight. Lacking in any other sort of guide, we chose to follow along its drop. As time went on, the snow became deeper, much more challenging to traverse and despite the freezing wind and still falling snow, I began to sweat under my coat. Teynos, who still refused to put on any more clothing than his loin cloth, had now a hue that leaned more into a sickly blue rather than his healthy green but every attempt in persuading him to relent from this madness fell upon deaf ears. Grum lead us steadily onwards, though in the still increasing snowfall, his short statue visibly struggled to keep up a moderate pace. At least he seemed to have no issue with the temperature. Over the whistling wind I suddenly heard a decidedly more animalistic howling. Not like a wolf, this was deeper and more ragged. It seemed to come closer towards us before just as quick as it started it abruptly cut off. Nervously we moved slightly away from the gorge, and I turned myself invisible to keep some semblance of advantage over the approaching creature. I had not gotten five paces away from the group, as a hulking, white-furred monstrosity emerged from the snow, leaping into our midst in the same moment as a smaller shadow appeared from behind us. The first one, while definitely showing the same facial features as the trophy we had seen in the Frosty Tankard was almost twice the size of what we were expecting when being told about the yetis whilst the other more closely matched what we had seen. Teynos opened with a leap towards the smaller yeti and covered him in a frenzy of blows and punches. The larger abomination opened its huge maw from which a stream of ice-cold mist emerged that put the general weather around us to shame, Grum, Nysqwen and Kyla were harrowed heavily by this icy breath, but Grum quickly shifted shape into that of a gigantic elk that now matched the size of our larger foe. Nysqwen closed in on the large one, her glaive drawing long cuts that tainted part of his white fur in a blue-blackish liquid. Between a crossbow bolt from myself and further blows from Teynos, the smaller monster perished after being unable to hit the quickly dodging half-orc who immediately ran towards the huge yeti, albeit hampered by the thick snow. Much to our chagrin, the death cry was answered from somewhere in the snowstorm by a long howl. The remaining yeti seemed to stare intently at Kyla who consequently froze mid-movement and appeared to be unable to move. From beyond the white curtain, another smaller yeti appeared right next to me, and I felt long, ragged claws tearing through skin and flesh as I was battered by two paw strikes. It also looked at me the way the larger had at Kyla and I could feel a freezing feeling starting to extend through my body. For once, my nine-times damned heritage proved useful, as drawing on the deep buried burning rage I fought down the numbing sensation and turned to run towards the larger problem, not before another strike tore through my back. In desperation, I pulled the lyra free, focussing as much arcane force as I knew how to, to let its evolving melody and my voice carry over the wind. The giant yeti’s head jerked around to me just as I finished my melody. Then it shrank. Within a heartbeat, all that was left in place of the creature was a rather cute little snow bunny, albeit one with spots of dark blue blood all over its fur. And as far as bunnies go, it looked rather dumfounded. Nysqwen scudded over, grabbed the animal and with a valiant throw sent it over the edge of the gorge. Grum and Teynos used the release of pressure to run towards the newly arrived yeti and covered it in an array of attacks. Another smaller yeti emerged from the ravine, claws lashing out wildly at Nysqwen. She retaliated in kind, joined by Grum as Teynos took out the one that had battered me earlier. Wanting to end this quickly, I increased the tempo of the song I was preparing and spurred Nysqwen to new speeds. But before the giant elk could reach, under a gaze similar as the one that still froze Kyla in place, he too fell into a motionless rigour. I reached Kyla, trying my best to physically or verbally reach to her but nothing seemed to be able to shake off the paralysis she was under. Nysqwen’s glaive tore through the jaw and into the brain of the last standing yeti. She kicked him off her weapon, the lifeless body tumbling over the edge. The dragonborn peered out to see any sign of the by now certainly not-so-much-snow bunny whilst Teynos and I tried to wake our two companions. Grum shook out of his stupor quickly, but Kyla would not budge, no matter what we tried. With a loud roar, the huge yeti suddenly stepped over the edge again, blue blood now covering most of his fur, one horn broken half way down its length and immediately, elk-Grum froze once again where he was standing. Under heavy strikes, Nysqwen was beaten to the ground despite my best efforts to divert the blows. Like a miracle, a soft, pale green glow emerged from the raven pendant Kyla had made for her that she carried around her neck and life returned to her body. Uttering a string of infernal whispers, I sent the hulking beast back down the cliff, Nysqwen swinging her glaive in its wake. As she jumped to her feet and ran to the edge she cried out in rage as she failed to make it out in the heavily falling snow. Teynos ran to her aid, only to be paralysed in his tracks as the huge head of the monster once again emerged, his swings this time thankfully failing to fell Nysqwen yet again. The dance of him running under my infernal curses repeated once more and Kyla and Teynos finally managed to shake off their rigour. A plume of the same cold breath we had seen before poured over the edge. Nysqwen hit the ground, only to be picked up in a mangled claw. Nonchalantly, the yeti flung her over the edge. Something cut through the howling wind and it took me a moment to understand that Kyla and I had cried in unison as we saw our fallen friend vanish into nothingness. I felt the haste I had bestowed upon her fizzle out. Almost without noticing I ran towards the edge. Not again. Not now. Not Nysqwen. In the span of a few steps but what felt like hours, images raced through my head of sitting together, laughing over several drinks in the warm light of a fireplace in a tavern. Our brief stay in the bath in Neverwinter, where all pain seemed so far gone. Our fight against Venomfang, Nysqwen fearlessly standing in the frontline, protecting the rest of us. Our more recent musings over letters she wanted to send back to Amber. As I peered over the cliff I could see nothing beyond a couple of dozen feet. No ground or ledges that might have stopped her fall. There was no telling how deep that damned canyon was to begin with. At the edge of my perception, I heard Teynos shout first his and then Nysqwen’s name and turned my head just in time to see him slaying the gigantic yeti. My thoughts raced, searching frantically for anything we could do. Kyla ran up to me shouting something of us having less than a minute left if we wanted any chance to save Nysqwen. Save her? But I knew I felt her life slip away! Still, Kyla had never let us down. Was there a chance? As she reached me, I felt a wave of warmth wash over me and felt some of the pain that made thinking incredibly difficult vanish. I reached one hand out to hers, seeking her eyes for any confirmation of hope. As she answered my gaze, I pulled out a piece of parchment, I had been given not but two weeks before by Nissa. Hastily I read out the small poem on the scroll to open the promised dimensional door. Then Kyla and I were freefalling, one hundred feet down the crevasse with all my hope being that it would not be much more until the end of the precipice. The last thing I heard was the breaking of bones as my skull crushed on a piece of rock. And then nothingness. Except pain of course. Utter, blinding pain. It felt like white glowing needles were pushed into every inch of my flesh whilst someone had replaced my bones with branding irons. Nothing made sense anymore. All I could think was when this agony would end. I tried to open my eyes. Faces flashed before me, showing the same expression of disdain and contempt as when I saw them during a fight in a certain ritual chamber against a rather infernal rat. Grum. Camp. Nal. Anataea. Chant. Nysqwen. Nysqwen… A voice filled my head, coming from seemingly nowhere. The harsh infernal pierced through the pain. “FULFILL YOUR PURPOSE”. Then a second voice rung through. Far softer, slightly shaking. Calling my name. A familiar voice. The pain subsided as the voice called again. I opened my eyes, seeing Kyla’s face hovering over me, a concerned look in her features that turned into a soft smile. Barely, I managed to fight back an inexplicable rage that suddenly roared loud in me. To my whispered question what happened to Nysqwen she replied that she was alive again. She had returned and would live to fight another day. Suddenly extremely tired but with a huge weight lifted from my chest, my head sank back into the snow with an audible sigh. Grum stepped over to us, a beaten but still smiling Nysqwen in tow. They explained that whilst I was out, Kyla had managed the miracle of actually bringing her back from death. The cleric said, apparently the Matron of Ravens had agreed that Nysqwen’s story was not yet fully written. Somehow, in all that Grum apparently had descended from the cliff above on some sort of vines that he had summoned from the surrounding rock. Teynos now was alone at the top. Well, nothing bad ever had come from leaving him all to himself. [To be continued when there is a break in the story that actually allows Morthos to write all this down] [Continuation:] Teynos’s shout however was quickly followed by a low rumbling sound echoing from the slopes above our group. Grum immediately warned us that avalanches were common in these parts, easily triggered and often deadly. As quick as our mangled bodies would allow, we hurried through the ravine upslope. Much to our relief we found a shallow cave in the rock wall to our left that we ducked into just in time to avoid being buried under several hundred feet of snow and rock. Nysqwen and Kyla managed to block the small opening with Kyla’s shield, thus allowing us to wait out the anger of the mountain. When the deafening sounds of falling and splintering rock, grating snow and splintering ice finally faded, we found ourselves in almost perfect darkness, acutely aware of the minute space around us and the lack of fresh air should we stay any length of time. Therefore, we immediately began digging with any strength we still could muster, led by our dwarven friend who shifted into the pelt of a giant badger. I can not recall how long it must have taken to make our way to the surface. My arms appeared to be ending in numb stumps by the end of it, all feeling had left my hands. But as I looked down, thick traces of half frozen, half liquid blood covered them, cut open in dozens of places from shards of ice or rocks in the snow we had moved trough. Looking around, there was not a single sign of life for as far as any of us could see. We noticed however a roughly triangular depression in the white landscape that looked too stark to not have been newly created. As we approached, we heard the muffled sounds of voices and with renewed speed we covered the last few paces, where we looked down into the recess. A large slate of rock had kept the encroaching snow at bay and prevented the area from being buried. In this spot, a truly bizarre picture presented itself to us. Adrik and the rest of his group were standing around the body of one of the dead yetis which appeared to be cut open and half gutted. From inside this grim vista, only the head and hands of Teynos emerged, conversing with the other bounty hunters. He did not seem to mind the horrendous smells that surrounded the corpse of the white-furred creature, nor the dark, almost blue blood that thickly coated his skin. All notions of relief from the fact that everyone against all odds was still alive quickly were mixed with a certain degree of anger, especially on Kyla’s and then quickly Adrik’s side towards the half-orc upon proclaiming that more likely than not the sudden avalanche took root from the rather reckless loud shouting of the monk. In his defence though, the noise of the battle just before and the thundering roaring especially of the huge monstrosity might already have done their part, before he was calling out. As rapid as it came, the frustration gave way to more exuberant banter. In the end, we all were simply glad to have emerged from this entire adventure alive – well, alive again in Nysqwen’s case. The rivalling party gave themselves seriously impressed, for one by our reckless gamble of scaling the sheer mountain to gain time on them but also our victory in slaying foes we had little to no idea about. Adrik had himself never seen s monstrous yeti the likes of which we were describing but admitted that there had been stories of these hellish creatures. His choice of words immediately brought beads of sweat to my forehead despite the freezing wind around us. They all congratulated us again and without any complaints or haggling conceded the bounty as per our prior agreement, telling us to inform commander Gruga Foehammer of our exploits. Their group, he continued, would have to head further to Luskan to sort some business in the Mirabar Shield district. Still, before splitting our paths we used the remaining day to travel to the edge of the snowy plateau and continue from there in the morning. Much like ourselves, they sought shelter in a sphere not unlike the one I knew how to weave and thus in our two little huts we are now settling down for the night. With everything that has transpired over these last few hours, I am amazed that not only we all are still here but the only thing of mine that seems to have taken any damage (apart from my body of course) is my panflute that must have been buried beneath me when Kyla and myself jumpfell from the cliff. The wooden pipes are all either splintered or cracked beyond repair. Vivis gave that to me. Unbeknownst to both of us, in the last moment I ever saw her since she disappeared. I had promised Anataea to hold an eye out for any clues as to what might be going on and it shames me to say how little thought has gone to that over the last weeks. There just always seemed to be something else on! I will need to see if this Fox in Mirabar knows anything, the sources in Neverwinter did all seem to be obnoxiously oblivious. And if I ever see Vivis and the others again, I shall be the one to bestow a gift upon her. Perhaps there is something to be done with one of these yeti horns we brought with us…

Ever North Goes the Road
25th of Eleint, 1481 DR

It’s funny, when you think about it, how contrasting two consecutive days can be. One day, you spend barely escaping a flaming death, descending from the sky, the next you idly talk with your friends about if an ideal house should have one or two floors while lazily riding through the warm summer sun. After finishing our rest in this most hostile-to-life of all places, we skimmed through the remains of what our battle left behind. Strangely, the armour and sword of the second creature had vanished but in the ashes we still found some gold. The coins showed a different minting than what we are used to, it appeared to be a figure with a humanoid upper body but where legs should be it just became a formless mass, almost like a cloud. With all our objectives accomplished, we then set out on our way back to the place where we were expecting to travel back from. We found the small crevasse in the mountain very much portal-less which prompted me to once more begin to summon the protective dome around us. My efforts were interrupted however, when Nysqwen suddenly cried out, warning us of an approaching enormous red dragon that just broke through the smoke cloud of a neighbouring peak. I hasted my unfolding spell as best as I could but when there is one crime in music of course it is trying to force something into being. Unsurprisingly, my endeavours were therefore met with little reward whilst the beast gained on us with alarming speed. It was merely a few hundred feet away from us when Grum yelled that a portal was opening through which I felt myself ruggedly flung by Nysqwen which finally collapsed the last strands of my magic. Looking back, I just saw her being thrown to the ground by the thunderous beating of the red dragon’s wings. Then the plateau on the other side of the portal was bathed in roaring flames. The emanating heat was indescribable and for a short but terrifying moment I was sure that I would never again lay eyes on my dear dragonborn friend. Thankfully, a smoking Nysqwen emerged from the inferno and tumbled through the rift where she collapsed just as the portal closed. Wordlessly I offered her the remains of my wine skin which she accepted with shaking hands. As I touched her claws, I offered her as much relief as I was capable of by imbuing her with some mental fortitude against the barely survived trauma. Finally, we dared to look around where we had landed and relieved concluded that we were in the same space where we first entered this plane in. After but a brief moment of respite, two azers appeared who led us into a room we had not been in before. The room was dominated by a tall bronze statue that looked like a five-headed hydra. Each set of eyes was made of artfully cut rubies that felt almost alive as they stared down at us from their high vantage point. The statue emerged from a small pool of molten rock in front of which Pyro seemed to be deep in prayer. Every now and then, small snouts broke through the surface of the lava pool, not too different, albeit much smaller, from that of the large salamander. We reported to our questionable ally that we had accomplished all the tasks we had set out to solve but that there were some unexpected hinderances along the way. Not least of which was the appearance of the dragon. Pyro explained that he was known as Ysolphur the Devourer of Worlds around these parts. Of course. Devourer of Worlds. And we were just standing on an open plateau completely oblivious of what was flying our way. As we were exchanging terrified glances, Pyro continued that all the ingredients for Grum’s requested remedy were gathered and he was willing to conduct the ritual now. The rest of us were asked to leave the chamber. We were brought to a different room nearby to wait and immediately slumped to the ground. In an effort to distract myself as much as my friends from the nightmare we had lived through and the fact that we left Grum alone in a room with Pyro whose alliances are still questionable, I picked out the old lyra. A remarkable instrument indeed, as it was perfectly in tune despite the horrendous temperatures around us! Letting my gaze wonder over my companions, I used the opportunity to attempt and lift their moods as best I could. The calming melody was instilled with little hints of magic to ease the burden of heat on my three friends and remove some traces of dust and ash that had crusted all of us. Thanks to Mystra’s gift, traces of reassurance entered the song, the occasional croaking of a watching raven, the sound of waves rolling over calm shores and the image of majestic wings on Teynos’s shadow. The small hints of relief on their faces heralded at least some success of my efforts. Eventually, Grum and Pyro entered the room. Grum was carrying a richly ornamented chest that, according to our host contained the healing salve resulting from the successful ritual. With all agreements fulfilled, we said our goodbyes before Pyro released us through a portal back onto our own, much cooler plane of existence, where we were greeted by a clear, night’s sky and the reassuringly familiar soundscape of the forest around us. We walked back to where we had left our mounts to make camp. Still devouring the recent events, we spent the evening debating all manner of more trivial things although one time, Kyla took some more notes on what we wished in terms of burial rites should we fall before her. After some further Elvish lessons, we all bedded down for the night, surrounded by the protecting dome my song had created. The next morning came with the pleasant smell of frying mushrooms, Teynos had chosen to prepare breakfast for all of us during his watch. Whilst we were eating, Adrik approached and invited himself to our meal after reassuring himself of all our plans and deals having gone well. We now began contemplating how to continue. Of course, there was still the issue of Iarno Albrik. But there did not seem to be any trace of him or whatever else might have awoken the plants on our last trek through this forest. Our best bet for the moment therefore was without a doubt Mirabar, Grum was quite keen on bringing this new remedy to his treant friend, plus we had to report to their higher-ups about the happenings around Lystramon and the culminating reports of drow-involvement in several of the recent developments. Kyla took a moment before she looked up to a spectral hand, traced by the faint outlines of raven feathers. It seemed to be pointing northeast, straight into the forest and towards the peaks of Mount Hotenow and Gauntlgrym. She explained that this would be the straightest path to the northern city. This path might lead rather close past her home as well and the prospect of maybe seeing the dear temple of her family again seemed to greatly excite her. Adrik mentioned, he knew of the place but tried to avoid it as much as possible to no one’s surprise. The dwarf seemed about as sociable as a rock. Still, given the unknown dangers of the forest and surrounding lands, we finally decided to try our luck by sticking to the road along the coast and avoid Luskan by diverting eastward just before the city. Adrik now got up, seeing that there was not much more for him to contribute and turned into a squirrel that quickly ran back towards the Neverwinter Forest. In his wake, he left what appeared to be a ring. The ring itself seemed not to be made from metal but rather something like amber. On it’s front is a purple gem inlaid, covered by a mesh of golden bands that almost give it a brain like appearance. After some sarcastically romantic shenanigans of me putting the ring on Teynos hand, accompanied from appropriate jesting comments from everyone involved, eventually the others agreed that perhaps I should try and test out this potentially magical item. When we set out on our way north again, Kyla therefore hobbled my horse to hers to allow me to study the ring. I still don’t fully trust the beast and I get the sense that the feeling is mutual. Animals in general seem to get nervous around me, except for cats of course. But this horse at least so far had not attempted to trample me to death so I suppose we are in a truce of sorts. But with all this reservation towards riding, it took me still until after our lunch break to figure out that the ring seemed to ward the bearer’s mind from unwanted prying or magical detection of thoughts or intent. Quite useful so, this would have come in very handy in a few of the more precarious situations I had found myself in before encountering this new group of friends. For the night we found a roadside inn that aside from food and lodging also provided the opportunity of taking a bath and properly scrub off the remaining ash. The next day, a caravan of traders joined us for the majority of the time. They were led by a human couple and their daughter that sought trade with the smaller settlements along the forest edge. The four other people were hired swords for protection. Kyla spoke to them for a while, but they knew nothing of Glassatff or other things that were going on in the area but mentioned that they were stuck in Neverwinter for a while whilst a rat plague was going on. They parted ways with us in the late afternoon but recommended a tavern along the way where we could pause for the following night. The next three days passed fairly uneventful. On the fourth day, a cart came towards us, down the now less developed road. A single man sat on the coach box yet somehow, there was no draft animal to be seen. As he came closer, Nysqwen, Grum and myself recognised him as Tiblen Stonehill, the brother of Toblen, owner of the Stonehill Inn in Phandalin. The travelling merchant similarly appeared to recognise us from our last encounter on the Triboar Trail and joyfully jumped down from his cart to greet us. After brief introductions of our companions, he asked if were in need of any particular goods and seemed to indeed have something for any need that was stated in his covered cart. Teynos now is the proud owner of a new loincloth, this one with several pockets and therefore far superior to its predecessor according to the half-orc. Grum finally got his newly forged hip flask filled with some strong-smelling dark liquid whilst Kyla purchased a small silver figurine of a raven that accordingly to Tiblen could turn into a real animal that would stay connected with Kyla at all times. I myself managed to get a set of brand-new tarot cards so it might be time to hone the good old charlatanry skills. When Nysqwen showed him the axe we had found in Venomfang’s hoard, he took a scrutinising look over the object, not too dissimilar from dear Archie and sure enough seemed to identify it to be a weapon of respectable magical qualities! When all these oddities were reason enough to wonder where this Tiblen got all his wares from, he pulled out a handful of other objects when he turned around one last time after already saying goodbye. He held up a small chest asking if any of these items were ours. Our astonishment was great as we saw all the little gifts and knickknacks we had left in place of the bag of holding in the cave consecrated to Moradin. Surprised and baffled, we replied that these were a gift in thanks to the gods that were watching over us and if anything should aid the ones that might find them eventually. Even long after we had left him behind, we still had no clue what to make of this odd encounter. It was a long debate, whether he was in leagues with the god, a priest perhaps, or just a wanderer that collected anything that might be worth a good price on the streets. Perhaps he even was following an entirely different agenda. The only one fully unperturbed by all this was Teynos, who simply found tremendous joy in the newfound practicality of owning something that contained pockets. Our attempts of trying to convince him that clothes with more fabric might be able to contain more pockets however seemed to fall on deaf ears. The following day we agreed we could not be too far from the fork in the road anymore, at which we knew we could circumnavigate Luskan. Around midday we found ourselves diverting a little from the forest edge and passing through a canyon. Much to our surprise, halfway through the gorge we saw the rough outlines of faces carved into the rock wall about four feet above our heads. From our brief encounter with them, we figured that this might be the remains of some passing giant but if it was meant as a warning, some other message or merely an expression of creativity none of us could tell. The grooves showed definite signs of wear from wind and rain and there were no further traces to be seen in the greenery around us, leading us to assume that the creator of these carvings had moved on a long while ago. That evening we camped next to a well at the fork we had been aiming for. The night passed by with only a single rider hastily rushing southward, coming from the direction we assumed Luskan to be. We continued our travels the next day until we reached the Blackford Crossing of the river Mirar. The humans manning the ferries that granted passage demanded a hefty sum to bring us across and with every attempt of talking some sense into them they seemed to just up the price. Grum and Kyla mentioned they could potentially help out with our crossing on the next morning after having prepared the correct incantations and allow us to simply walk across! Even this prospect did not seem to change the ferry men’s mind however. Then Grum seemed to remember something and started braiding his magnificent beard. The man we had been talking to suddenly seemed to brighten up a bit, telling us that for friends, the journey would only cost ten gold pieces between all of us and our mounts. I reckon this has something to do with the rivalry between Luskan and Mirabar that Grum mentioned before but what the significance of the hairstyle was in all this, I have yet to ask him. We travelled until nightfall now on the northern bank of the river. Despite the time of year, it was notably cooler once the sun sank this far north with cold winds occasionally blowing down from the mountains to our left. All the more welcome was the pleasant atmosphere the little shelter we had our hands was when we eventually settled to rest. Grum this time had gathered a couple of mushrooms that he made into a simple stew. Whilst the taste was excellent, unfortunately, he must have mixed up something on his search as we all ended up with rather upset stomachs and only thanks to Kyla’s healing magic were herself, Nysqwen and myself spared to share Grum’s and Teynos fate of… often interrupted sleep. Teynos, who would not hear otherwise still thought it a good idea to stuff some of the mushrooms into his loincloth for some obscure purpose. An apparently rather itchy rash the next morning did not necessarily lighten his mood but at least might have taught him that in fact not all mushrooms are good for you. Kyla’s aid was required once again although her face displayed a fierce mixture of annoyance, bemusement and compassion. The terrain grew more mountainous around us as we continued on our path. Soon we found ourselves surrounded by stone walls once again yet these seemed not to open up again any time soon. After a while, Grum was the first to notice a strange bestial roar somewhere in the mountains ahead of us. An odd amalgamation of a lion’s roar, a ram’s cry and something that almost sounded like a dragon and woke chilling memories in all of us. Quickly we readied our weapons. Sure enough, mere heartbeats later two creatures with large leather wings descended from the rocks in front of us. I have heard of such creatures in tales before but this was the first time I had laid eyes on a chimera myself. The monsters each had three heads, one of a lion, one of a ram and one of a dragon, explaining the unique noise that had hurried ahead of their arrival. Immediately, Grum raised his wooden staff and mumbled something upon which the clouds above our heads seemed to grow darker and a blinding flash of lightning stroke into one of the monsters. Kyla summoned a black axe made of radiant energy, whose blades uncannily looked like unfolding raven wings, as Nysqwen threw one of her javelins against the same beast that Grum wounded before. I myself attempted to take the two chimeras out of commission by sending them into a hypnotic trance but unfortunately that was not met with any success. Then they were upon us. The first one lashed out with a claw towards Nysqwen before clamping it’s lino’s teeth around her shoulder and bathing her in dragon flame. The second split its onslaught between Kyla Grum and myself though we thankfully managed to avoid the brunt of the flames. As Teynos joined into the fray, fists and staff flying faster than I was able to comprehend, Grum veered into his trusted shape of a giant elk and began trampling down on the creature that Teynos had just sent to the ground. It was a fierce but short fight in the end. With some whispered infernal words, I sent them running right into the blades, swings and hoofs of my friends which ended the skirmish as we stood in shallow puddles of a strangely thick blood. Grum commented, that chimeras tended to inherit the draconic greed for treasure and thus if we could find their nest, we might also find a decent reward for this encounter. With an exciting flicker in her eye, Kyla pulled out the small figurine she had bought from Tiblen. Upon uttering something, the statue seemed to grow and shake off it’s stiffness until a raven with silver-black wings sat on her wrist, keenly looking around us as she told it about what we were looking for. With it’s help and our own peering around, eventually, we indeed found a shallow cave in the side of a rock formation slightly off the road. The floor was covered with all manner of animal bones, though some looked unnervingly humanoid. Amidst an assortment of branches and greenery, we indeed came upon several leather pouches with some gold and a single polished piece of amber. Additionally, there was a single vial filled with some sort of orange potion that was warm to the touch. We are about to set out again, hoping for maybe a clearer path going forward. Perhaps Kyla’s new companion can help scout ahead and prevent any unwanted surprises.

Everything Is On Fire!
16th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Alae! Mystra órava omessë! What have we found ourselves in now… The morning began normal enough, as after my elvish lesson during breakfast, we packed our things to search for signs of the apparitions that Andrik had described to us, while the druid would tend to our mounts. It did not take long before our noses warned us that something was afoot ahead. The smell of burned wood and foliage led us as quietly as we could muster to a small clearing at the edge of the forest. In front of us, one of the oddest sights I have encountered thus far was presenting itself. Several tiny, vaguely humanoid winged creatures that seemed to be made entirely of magma and flame were scattered around and setting several bushes on fire, seemingly led by a slightly larger figure of dwarven built but shining skin the colour of hammered bronze and with their head engulfed in flames! As Grum later confirmed, this was one of these azers with a cohort of mephits that seemed determined to burn down the vegetation one branch at a time. Behind them, emitting a flickering red glow, a tear in reality itself opened and showed a tunnel seemingly hewn in red rock. In an attempt to avoid a perhaps unnecessary confrontation I deemed it best to first at least try to talk to these creatures as they clearly were driven by more than pure instinct. However, my call to halt in their arson was only met with wide grins on smouldering faces before they started swarming us. I managed to distract some of them with a pattern of swirling shapes and colours whilst Kyla and Teynos already pummelled the first of the mephits into the ground, although Teynos quickly ripped his helmet from his head. Yet the others were soon upon us, and we came to the painful realisation that wearing any metal items around creatures covered in writhing flame was a rather hot experience. Despite their red glowing armour, Teynos and Nysqwen did not cease their blows to the swarming mephitis as Grum unleashed a fountain of churned earth in their midst that instantly took out one of the small creatures. Meanwhile, I flung another spell against the dwarven figure. It still is far from comfortable but if this damn heritage courses through my veins I may well make use of it if it can help protect myself and the others. A few lowly whispered words that I knew would only reach the ears they were meant for in the infernal tongue were enough to at least momentarily send the azer running back through the portal from whence they presumably came. Even though we did a formidable job at fighting back the mephitis, every time one of them fell they exploded in a spray of molten rock and flame. Still, despite their final outlash we eventually manged to defeat the remaining foes, after which Teynos immediately ran straight through the portal with no further regards for its potential dangers. With a half angry, half concerned cry, Nysqwen, the rage of the battle still burning bright in her eyes, darted after him. Thankfully, mere moments later both of them re-emerged from the rift, unharmed it seemed but with a visible crown of sweat beads on Teynos’s forehead. He explained that there was a tunnel on the other side, slightly carved upwards, through red volcanic stone that potentially ended in another cave. The most noticeable thing though was the extreme heat of which we could feel some in the proximity of the portal even on our side. Dry as Irakin’s humour it streamed through the tear, slightly singing the grass where the transition met the ground. After a brief discussion, much to Kyla’s dismay, we agreed to venture through the portal to uncover where the azer had vanished towards. An investigation of the clearing unveiled that amongst the singed grass there was some scattered ash that looked fresh enough that the morning dew had not caked it together to a grey mass and showed traces of having been disturbed as if someone was looking for something. Kyla discovered that while there were no other traces of magic in our immediate vicinity, the portal seemed to have its origin in some divine magic, albeit one that was rather alien to her. With only more questions than before we left our camp this morning, we ventured forth through the portal. The heat was excruciating. I am not one to shy away from a fire if ever there is one around, quite the contrary. And while bright daylight makes certain tasks more difficult, I could spend hours just bathing in the afternoon sun on the rooftops of Neverwinter in the late days of Flamerule. But this was different. The air was perfectly still, not a single gust would have brought relief from the oppressive temperature and in an instant, I could feel every inch of leather that snuck by the cloth underneath chafe away at sweat-soaked skin. On this side of the rift, we were now standing in a small chamber that appeared to have been carved from the mountain around us. The portal stood open in its centre. Across the room was an opening into the corridor that Nysqwen and Teynos had seen earlier. A bright red glow shone from its other end and the heat grew more potent in its proximity. Grum was the first to discover that the tunnel was lined with shallow alcoves containing humanoid skulls engulfed in lazily flickering flames. We began our way through this ominous corridor yet before we had made it fully into its mouth, the flames around two of the skulls turned from red to green and suddenly we found ourselves engulfed in roaring flame. Were it not for Kyla’s quick reflexes, protecting Teynos from the brunt of the impact of the inferno, things might have turned sour very quickly. As the flames subsided, I empowered Nysqwen with arcane speed, recalling her effectiveness the last time we encountered enemies like this in a certain mine just before getting our hands temporarily on one particularly nasty spider. Between the ferocious dragonborn and Teynos, the first of the two skulls was quickly vanquished. It crashed to the ground where its green glow faded to an almost imperceivable shine. Learning from our past encounters, Kyla was quick to remove its last cling to life before she turned to the next one which just hit Teynos with an array of blueish bolts straight into the chest. Grum conjured a spectral form, quite similar to one he also liked using, of a giant toad that bathed us all in a soothing cool light, refreshing our bodies and reinvigorating our spirits. Maybe a little bit too invigorating, as Kyla seemed so eager to swing her mace at the remaining skull, she misjudged the distance and instead caught the tip of my right horn! Thank the gods I never liked the damn things too much anyways, this will take a while to regrow. Luckily, Grum was on the ball, shattering the skull underneath his wooden cudgel right as Kyla snuffed the magical spark that would cause it to rise again. In the silence that followed the fight between heavily indrawn breaths through already dry lips, I wondered aloud if Grum would know anything about the stone around us. This looked very much like how I would imagine the inside of an active volcano except for the clearly built structures of the tunnel and alcoves around us. Mount Hotenow of course was not too far from where we just explored the forest, but something seemed somehow off about this place. Unfortunately, Grum, Mystra bless him, is hard to stop in his lectures once unleashed so it took several minutes to exhaust his monologue about different minerals that he apparently could clearly see in the stone around us followed by explanations about something that sounded like techonics which sounded very complicated. The only thing it did not explain was where we were. Sure, in some form of volcano and there were hints of copper veins and other metallic shimmers along the walls, but nothing more enlightening than that. He knew however that azers are one of the many denizens of the elemental plane of fire, renown for their masterful smithing skills even amongst the dwarves. Teynos wandered a small stretch ahead towards what we could now see to be a large cavern alight from a slowly moving stream of lava that had collected into a pond. Three other tunnels diverged from the cavern. From our position it was impossible to tell what he was up to, but he seemed to be talking to someone or someone on the opposite end. Looking around my friends who were all slightly singed and breathing heavily in this strange environment, I decided it was time for a bit of shelter and perhaps a slightly more comfortable shelter. As so many times before, I thus began weaving the sheltering walls of music around our small group although this time I tried to hurry more than I usually would, given the unknown dangers of this place. The unfortunate thing about music in all its beauty is that it wants to be heard and it can be difficult to control whose ears a melody might reach. I had just started my little incantation as a band of mephitis rose right from the bubbling molten rock and started flying towards us. Again, Grum managed to conjure a pillar of rock from the ground that these creatures covered, killing two of them mid-air, then my attention drifted as I had to focus on what I was attempting. A burning pain along my leg almost tore me from my task as a brief look down revealed a bright red glow from my trusted rapier and without letting the notes escape, I managed to tear off my belt and continue the conjuration of our tiny musical dome. As soon as the last note left my lips, I turned around to shout to the others to seek cover but all I saw was Nysqwen and Teynos just finishing off an azer while all the other mephitis seemed to already have been defeated. When they eventually entered the sheltered space, they brought a bronze casket that they had picked up from the fire-dwarf. Inside we found twelve glass vials, seven of which were filled to the brim with ash. According to Grum, the remains seemed to originate from something living and most likely were from different sources, although to be honest to me the grey powder and flakes were all the same. We finished our brief moment of respite during which Teynos made his dismay of losing his helmet during our initial engagement very clear. Before lowering the barrier between us and the harsh environment, Kyla extended her inquisitive mind for the presence of any undead creatures and soon informed us that our path was clear on that front. Together this time, we approached the large cavern. The burning hot lava flow cutting the place in two meant if we wanted to explore all the tunnels, we would have to jump over the molten rock at least once but there were no signs noticeable that would give us an idea where to start. Both, Teynos and Kyla however noticed the faint clang of a hammer on metal coming from the tunnel to our right. Indeed, not long after we entered said tunnel, all of us perceived the clinging rhythm, occasionally accompanied by two voices conversing in a language that sounded both like the creaking of hot iron and hissing flames. Obscured by the dance of the hammer we entered into a smithy where three azers were absorbed by giving shape to a glowing piece of metal between them. The room was alit by a smaller offshoot of the lava stream we had seen before. Urging the others to stay back I stepped forward, intend of preventing spilling any further blood – or lava. I called out to the trio that I had heard about their incredible craftsmanship and was interested in purchasing whatever they were making. Unfortunately, I also learned in this moment that striking deals is made much harder if both parties did not speak the same language. Still, with hand and feet I managed to convey my meaning and placed down a first handful of gold to show our good will. I admit to having met a fierce diplomat in that room, as with what I can only describe as a flaming sly grin the azer hit the piece of metal precisely once for each coin I placed down. Even Grum’s offer of his hip flask did not impress them as they just tossed the vessel into a corner without any further regard. Perturbed by the slow pace of our negotiations, Kyla opted for a more direct method of figuring out our way out of this place by drawing a sketch on a piece of parchment to ask them for a pointer for an exit. Yet unintentionally this only made the azers aware that we were out of place here to begin with which caused the two azers that I had not been talking with to immediately draw their weapons. In a futile attempt to cut this short, I gave the third an apologetic look as I turned him into a monkey. This really rubbed his friends the wrong way and they instantly jumped at us. Grum caught my meaning and himself turned into a primate while Grum, Teynos, Nysqwen and Kyla did their best to keep the others at bay without angering them any further. I took some dried fruit from my pack and extended them to the monkey-fire dwarf while Grum agitated gestured at him. Fortunately, without anyone getting seriously injured, we managed to cool down the situation enough that Grum signalled me to turn the azer back into his true self and for us to have another round of negotiations. Another handful of gold pieces later, the smiths resumed their work and before long presented us with a brand-new copper hip flask that they handed Grum. One side was adorned by a complicated flame pattern while the other showed a beast that could be a five-headed hydra. After they finished, the one we had been communicating with thus far left through another tunnel on the opposite side of the smithy as his friends signalled us to wait. The azer returned with six further of his kin in tow. Yet before we could spend any thought on the possible threat that this might pose, the temperature in the room seemed to almost grow more intense. Behind the dwarven creatures followed the scaled, slithering red body of a large salamander that emanated a dry heat. They addressed us, fortunately in common, introducing themselves as Pyro and asking about our purpose. We answered thusly and in return learned that he and his followers were in service of a deity called Pyrothaeus. They recently claimed a partial stone tablet during a raid of another salamander’s home that depicted instructions for a ritual to summon this god of theirs, yet all the instructions they could make out spoke of some specific mixture of ashes while missing what ash it had to be. Thus, they had started collecting samples on our plane. Something smelled fishy about all this, and it was not Nysqwen’s dried herring for which we had enough foresight to keep it in the bag of holding. Salamanders feuding within their kin and wanting to summon some god sounded like the beginning of one of those tales Anataea liked to tell children to teach them a lesson of what comes from meddling with powers beyond one’s own control. Unfortunately, we found ourselves outnumbered in rather unpleasant terrain and in a pinch to stop these seemingly religious fanatics from burning down all of Neverwinter Wood, with a quick glance at my friends I therefore offered our help in collecting the correct ashes to Pyro, in exchange for them stopping their arson. Kyla interjected, curious what this Pyrothaeus was all about. According to Pyro, the deity is responsible for all the beasts on the elemental plane of fire although he left quite vague, what “being responsible” meant. Commonly he was worshipped by burnt offerings of some of those beasts yet all the ashes they had tried so far for their ritual had failed. Which was why they expanded their search to our plane. Kyla offered them some incense just to see if our self-inflicted mission could be cut short and they agreed to at least give them a try. Grum now came up to us as well to ask if the salamander knew anything about exotic remedies. He had heard from a brief encounter with a different elemental plane and some druids that these strange places hold a great, mostly untapped potential for many alchemic recipes. As he described Quercus’ symptoms, I am rather sure to have noticed an ever so faint tremble in his usually stern voice, followed by an almost inaudible sigh when Pyro revealed that he indeed knew of some treatment which however involved some exotic reagents and of course, their own plans of summoning Pyrothaeus would have first priority. But if we were to help them and provide the ingredients, he would be willing to help us. Apart from four pounds of obsidian and three vials of hellhound blood, they would also require the essence of a fire elemental. Pyro reached out to one of the azers who brought forth a small metal pot with a single handle. In the foreign tongue of this plane, he hissed something and then handed the vessel to us, explaining that once weakened enough, this would suffice to contain such essence. While things were finally taking a more pleasant turn, we were all still quite exhausted. Before we would act on any of the tasks set in our path, we were therefore granted stay in a small room where a handful azers were deep into a card game. To shield us at least to some extend against the ever-present heat, once more I created the protective dome of welcoming melodies around us, before we bedded down for a longer rest. When eventually all of us woke up again, Kyla said she had been thinking of possible ways to find answers to what Pyro might be searching for. She intended to ask the Raven Queen directly for the required source for the ashes. In a corner of the room, she then assembled a few sacrificial items, a mushroom she had collected, some oil and a golden coin that she arranged meticulously before kneeling down in silence. Some of the azers that were currently in the same room curiously came a few steps closer and watched with the same anticipation as the rest of us. Without warning, the assorted items vanished into a black void that closed immediately. Kyla slumped together like a sack of wet flour and laid motionless on the floor. Instantly, Grum rushed over to her and exclaimed she was doing rather rough, upon which I immediately joined them, the healing potion uncorked before I even fully made it to my unconscious friend. With Grum’s help and trembling fingers I managed to pour the red liquid down Kyla’s throat and after a few heartbeats that felt like years, she began coughing, vomiting up some bile and opened her eyes. Between shivers and further coughs, she eventually managed to tell us that she had a vision in which she saw three trees, an oak, a yew tree and a birch. Yet something had disturbed her inquisition when she felt something burning in her stomach and left her in her current state. Still slightly shivering she administered her healing magic on herself causing her dark cheeks to finally lose the slightly yellow taint, her vision had left her with. Still, she was eager to repeat the ritual as she felt sure that she had not yet seen the whole picture of what that vision was supposed to show her. This time, as soon as she opened her eyes again, she said the vision had already happened. She now had seen the outside of the very volcano we were just standing inside of, from which a stream of magma flowed into a huge burning lake of molten rock. Her last image was the sight of a large shape, made of elemental fiery energy the emerged from the lake. She interpreted this as that the ashes would have to be created by burning the wood with some of this elemental fire rather than just setting them ablaze by common means. While that certainly complicated things, we still knew that we would have to engage with a fire elemental anyways to try and trap it for Grum’s ritual. Thus, we might be lucky and get two things sorted out at the same time. Knowing now our course of action, Kyla asked me to briefly hold still, and I almost cried out in joy as suddenly I understood everything the azers that had returned to their card game were saying! Not only that, I also knew how to reply in their own tongue and was able to ask them to fetch Pyro for we had need to speak with them. When they eventually arrived, they were as surprised by my sudden proficiency in articulating in their hissing tongue as I was, yet all I cared to explain was that Kyla was a mighty magic user if given enough time to prepare. I proceeded to explain what knowledge we had gathered and offered for us to travel back to our plane and fetch the necessary wood if in turn they would gather the materials required for Grum’s remedy. Pyro nodded thoughtfully that it would make sense to not only require the correct wood but also prepare it in a specific manner and agreed to collect the obsidian and hellhound blood. However, defeating and trapping an elemental already was part of the ritual so this would have to be done by us regardless. Satisfied with this accord, we shook hands, and I did my best to not show any of the pain that his fiery hot grip was causing me as I could feel my skin melt and peel away under his claws. We took our leave, heading towards the portal that he reassured us would be open again. We emerged in the exact same location that we had left the day before. Now it was Teynos’s turn to yell triumphantly as he immediately found his dearly missed helmet and made a point of gazing into each of our eyes with his ominously glowing visor. After we did not see any of the required trees in our immediate vicinity, much to our disappointment, we agreed to head back towards our mounts in the hopes of finding Andrik. Unfortunately, once we arrived there, we did not see any traces of the druid, although our horses and mule seemed in perfect condition. With a broad grin – well I assume as much as most of his face was hidden behind the helmet – Teynos said he knew how to get the dwarf’s attention as he filled his lungs with a staggering amount of air and once more the roaring shout in Draconic echoed through the forest. Birds startled in to the air in flocks, the trample in the underbrush heralded the flight of countless animals and our horses were doing their best to tear through their binds until Kyla and Nysqwen eventually managed to calm them down. Nonetheless, soon a fox came darting from the north and veered into a rather angry Andrik that voiced his indignation about the disturbance of peace in the forest. His mood quickly changed when he heard about what we learned. He definitely hated fire, that much we gathered very soon from our conversation, but we managed to convince him that by burning a few sacrifices we might save large stretches of the forest from further invasions. It took us the better part of the day but with Andrik’s knowledge of the forest we eventually collected enough wood in our bag of holding that we were confident in fulfilling the required amounts based on the size of the vials we had found in the case on the plane of fire. In preparation of our foreshadowed encounter with a being literally made of fire, we further looked for a small stream where we used some of the dust of dryness, we had found a seeming eternity ago. By just placing a pinch of the light-grey dust in the centre of the stream, we all marvelled as all the inflowing water was sucked into the little pile for a good while until a small marble of dark colouration was almost swept away by the flow. This might well be our moon card up the sleeve for whatever we might face in that place. Delighted by the clear sky, illuminated by millions of tiny stars and the fresh air around us, we decided to rest here before returning to the other plane the next day. Despite the long night’s rest, I noticed the next morning that the skin around the spot where I shook claws with Pyro had not fully recovered. A deep-set scar remains, branded into the red skin and shall remind me once more of one of Anataea’s lessons, sometimes there needs to be a small sacrifice or compromise to safe what one holds dear, even if one cannot fathom every consequence that that might bring in the long run. The portal was still awaiting us when we returned to the clearing and soon, we found ourselves leaving behind the sweet summer air of Faerun and returning to a place of fire, smoke and rock. Pyro was delighted when we brought word of us finding the wood and offered to briefly open a portal for us to the outside of their volcano although it would need to be closed immediately after to avoid being invaded the way that they had raided the other salamander’s den. As we stepped through, we found ourselves at the outskirts of a mountain range. The air smelled of smoke, sand and rock and several smoking mountain tops made obvious that volcanoes were far more common here than back home. The gloom around us seemed only illuminated by several broad streams of magma rolling through the landscape and in the distance, we could see the brighter shine of what presumably was the lava lake that Kyla had spotted in her vision. Hissing and crackling sounds filled the air, occasionally disturbed by louder cracks as stones splintered under the heat of the lava passing by. A very distant but obviously loud roar filled the air briefly, shaking us to our cores. This definitely sounded significantly larger than Venomfang and I would not be in our favour should it come to an encounter with a dragon in this place. Thus alarmed, we quickly and as silently as possible set off towards the lake, just as a few four-legged, doglike creatures ran through the mountains above us without seeming to notice our presence. After a while, every step closer towards the lake was taking its toll as the heat grew further. Nonetheless, I could not help myself but marvel at the inherent beauty of the slow flow of glowing yellow and red rock, sparks and bits of lava spraying about and the flickering air above the lake. And then the fire elemental emerged. From amidst the boiling pit rose an only vaguely defined form, still moving autonomously in the windless air. As large as a horse, the creature spotted us just as Nysqwen was drawing the branches we had collected from the bag of holding and charged towards where we were standing. Grum stepped forth, raising his staff above his head and a dark cloud formed in the path of the elemental, raining forth shards of ice that began tearing at its form and encasing it briefly in vapour. My attempt on slowing the creature in its approach failed but as soon as it was upon us, Teynos swung one of the branches that Nysqwen had prepared against it which immediately caused the wood to catch on fire. Still charging, the elemental brushed straight through Teynos, Nysqwen Kyla and yours truly. This felt just like shaking hands with Pyro again, only much worse and on the entire body! Instantly, clothes and hair were set ablaze turning us into humanoid torches. While Nysqwen and Teynos continued in our mission of turning the wood we collected into ashes, I attempted a different angle. I called out to our foe in a hopeless attempt that he would be more understanding than the azers while dousing the flames engulfing Kyla and palming the little marble of the soaked dust. With all the wood burning, Nysqwen immediately proceeded to slash into the flames and Kyla reached straight into its burning form upon which it crumpled in on itself, flickering frantically and almost snuffing out. Grum pulled out the small metal vessel we had been given by Pyro and stepped towards the fading elemental. However, as my gaze drifted beyond my friends there was a second creature emerging from the magma. This one was smaller, yet clad in metal armour that failed to fully hide its fiery nature and wielded a large, serrated scimitar. With a swift strike, Nysqwen vanquished the first elemental while Teynos and Grum faced the newcomer. Wide slashes greeted them, spraying sparks and blood. Grum managed to still reach out with the vessel to the remains of the first elemental which seemed to be sucked into the metal container. Seeing that if the fight would continue much longer, we would be in serious trouble, I reached for my trusted lyra and wove a tune that spurred Nysqwen to extreme swiftness. Kyla in the meantime took care of the worst of Teynos’ wounds who had fallen under the dancing blade. Unfortunately, the creature did not relent and sent him immediately back to the ground, almost ignoring the slashes of Nysqwen’s glaive and the silvery moonlight, Grum bathed it in. With a few strategically placed whispers followed by further attacks by all of us we managed to briefly drive it off back over the lake, only for it to return with almost increased vigour. Luckily, Nysqwen just had managed to give a healing potion to Teynos who stood up, still shaken by the fierceness of the attacks and retreated to not immediately suffer the same fate again. With all the chaos around us and the dire situation myself, Kyla and Teynos especially found ourselves in, I saw no other option than to try a hail Mystra and throw the small bead in my hand for the creature. There was a faint plopping sound. Then we all found ourselves almost cooked alive as hundreds of buckets of water at once hit the burning hot creature and ground and were instantly turned into a boiling mist. Once it all evaporated, all that was left of where the last elemental stood was a steaming breastplate and the serrated blade. With all of us seriously exhausted and most injured, we are now seeking refuge in the little dome again to lay off the worst of the wounds. Once we are recovered, we have to head back as quickly as we can, I do not believe that we could deal with another encounter like this and live to tell the tale of it.

Into the North
13th of Eleint, 1481 DR

After a short breather, we continued our track further west, the terrain around us slowly losing in intensity of the waves of hills and flattening out more and more. Eventually we laid eyes again on the Sea of Swords in the distance, drawing in deeply the fresh, salty breeze blowing our way. Movement along a long strip of vaguely visible darker textures signified that we were approaching the High Road that sees a fair bit of traffic all year round. The sun was just beginning to set when we finally reached the road. By now, it had calmed down a bit due to the later hour but when we turned south, we hardly had moments of seeing no other travellers anymore. There was something reassuring in the fact that we were no longer alone, Nysqwen had not stopped smiling ever since we laid eyes upon the sea. Thinking back at the silent darkness of the last days sent an uneasy shiver down my spine yet the notion of it seemed almost unreal as if only encountered in a dream. A dream that was a proper nightmare for the most part. Kyla turned to one of the passing by caravans to ask them if they had encountered some travellers making quick pace towards Neverwinter and gave them the description of the people we were after. Other than one of them who told us he had spotted a troupe that could roughly match this description however, they could not recall anything further. A few hours later at least a good few of us were too exhausted to continue our march and thus we found shelter in one of the farmsteads along the road. The next morning, the farmer allowed us to borrow horses to make for a quicker journey back to the city. He sent one of his farmhands with us who after visiting a relative would take the animals back with him. Thus quickened, the rest of our travels flew by quickly though if the animal had not been trained as well as it appeared in just following the others, I would have not known what to do on its back. We handed the reins over to the young man that had accompanied us just before entering Neverwinter. Voices upon voices drowned each other out, muddled by the sound of hundreds of people going about their daily business. The air smelled of wet clothing, dozens of different types of food, sewage, exotic flowers and spices and all the mingled races. Where over the last days we had been just amongst ourselves in either open terrain or confined tunnels, suddenly bodies brushed against each other, a determined chaos of destinations in mind. All these impressions, I sucked in like water after a long hot day, drinking deep from the results of civilisation. Between the humans, half-elves, dwarves, halflings and rarer other races there was a noticeable number of full-blooded orcs mixed amongst the crowd. We headed straight south towards the Protector’s Enclave to inform the offices there of our incoming report. After parting ways with Daril there for the time being, we ventured on to the Lords’ Alliance where we were told that master Zashier was not present currently. Therefore, we just left behind a brief account on what we had found, and all decided that it was finally time to grab a cold drink and enjoy the warm atmosphere of a tavern. Nostalgically we went to the Singing Anvil, back where it all started what seemed like an eternity ago. The evening was spent with a good few drinks, shared stories and laughter and was accompanied by the overwhelming joy of returning from under the earth. It truly is a blessing, thinking back at all the unexpected events that have led to this, to now be able to sit amongst such heroic people and be part of their group with a connection almost as deep as the one I foster with those who raised me. After some time and many pints of ale Grum excused himself to find a comfortable rest in his own home which the rest of us took as an opportunity to likewise leave towards Anataea's and rest in a proper bed. We slept until late in the morning, enjoying the peace and comfort that this place brought with it. Grum and Irakin then joined us for a hearty breakfast over which we discussed what we might want to do next. There might be a possibility to get ourselves hired by the Lionshields as mercenary guards for their next transport and thereby first-hand discover what was going on. But there was no guarantee that every caravan they sent out definitely would be raided by the same folk and we did not know when that would be possible in the first place. Irakin, who was listening in to our conversation, mentioned that he had kept his ears open as well and that some warehouses in the northern district of Neverwinter that were unoccupied previously due to the affair with the orcs might have some business outside the confines of the law or guild rules. It could be possible to have a look around there as well, maybe we would find some of the faces we were looking for. This seemed a lead easily perused and thus for the immediate future seemed the best course of action. Of course, there also might still be a possibility to set out to sea to follow the trail of smuggled artifacts Nissa Murnik had told me about. And, with a glance at my dragonborn friend, I mentioned that we still should look into the traces we had found of Nysqwen’s brother. Our discussions were interrupted by a knock on the door by a messenger who brought word from the council and Neverember’s invitation to a meeting this evening. This would be a good opportunity to relay all we had gathered thus far as well, for the time being however, we drank up and left towards northern Neverwinter to check upon the warehouses Irakin had mentioned. After crossing over the Dolphin bridge, the further north we got the higher the density of orcs and goblins became amongst the general crowd. When last I ventured into this area for a small errand I had to run for a nobleman a few weeks ago, this entire section of the city had been desolate, abandoned and barred up, the ground often spattered with blood of run-ins between ‘concerned citizens’, orcs, vagabonds and other figures. Now it was a buzzling cauldron of merchants, workers, carts and a plethora of other figures breathing new life in the district. Repair works were ongoing on plenty of buildings all around, the demand for builders higher than it had been in years. We kept a keen look around to discern any familiar faces or signs but none of the buildings seemed to display any insignia or names that would tell us anything about its occupants. Many doors were guarded by all manner of folk. With a mere visual search seeming pointless, Kyla found herself a quiet corner where she hunkered down, drawing lines in the dirt at her feet and uttering a prayer closing her eyes. Just a heartbeat later she looked up at us, a determined grin on her face and pointed down the streets. She had magically found a trace of the leader of the gang we had been following from the underdark. Taking point, she led us to one of the larger buildings almost at the outer city wall. In front of the structure was a palisaded area often used for carts and the like. The heavy wooden gate was closed, and no people were to be seen from the outside. After a futile attempt to employ the help of some rats with the pipes I had kept from Lystramon to find any useful information about the interior, I offered to go ahead and try and sneak into the building by myself to see what might be discerned. Before someone could interject, I began to shrink rapidly, fur sprouting in thick orange patches all over my body, my cursed horns receded while my ears grew pointy, and whiskers spread around my face. Transforming into a cat was a very odd sensation. All my insides seemed to rearrange in not necessarily a pleasant manner. How did Grum do this all the time? It did not really hurt but still, the nauseating feeling was almost overwhelming. Then it was gone. Suddenly I had an inexplicable appetite for a juicy mouse and already picked up the scent of a few from the basement of the building behind us. A quick snack certainly… but I remembered that I was here for a purpose. Right, that window over there, it was time to see what the inside had to offer to a wandering cat. I headed across the main street, scanning all my surroundings for people paying attention to what I was doing. Yet what was that? Not a single face was turning my way! I spotted a kid some paces down the street whose face displayed a broad, warm smile when looking down at me, tugging at his mother’s dress to go towards me but she just dragged her on, determined to reach wherever she was going quickly. This was a freedom I never experienced at daytime in this city! No dark glares, whispers and pointed fingers at all sides! Exhilarated I ran a few strides up and down the street, delighted by this discovery, before I finally took a big leap, landing surefooted on the windowsill of the warehouse in question. I found myself in a kitchen of sorts where I took the liberty of snacking on some of the bacon that was sitting on one counter. Scorching hot, but worth every nibble. The next room seemed to be an office where a single figure sat at a desk over some paperwork. Through an open door I then continued on into the main storage hall. A handful of people were scattered throughout the spacious room, pacing bored through the rows and piles of crates, boxes, sacks and packs of unknown content. The people were chatting amongst themselves about all kinds of things but none that would incriminate them of any wrongdoings. Just the idle chit-chat of bored humans. On my stroll through and over all the goods, the people around seemed to either not take notice of me or were not bothered by a stray cat amongst their goods, so I had complete freedom of movement. In a side-room, I came across what might have been stone sarcophagi but with no markings that would tell of their purpose or origin. Eventually however I came across some crates with the crest of the Lionshields amongst the mostly unmarked boxes. I now began to notice the shortcomings of my current form, it is far harder to try and quietly open a sealed crate as a small, scrawny feline than it would be even for my normal, not particularly strong form. As there was not much else, I could do about this, I made my way back outside, with a quick stop to get a glance at the desk in the office room where I had to avoid an annoyedly flung blade by the person sitting there. Thus encouraged in my decision to leave, I doubled my pace and headed back to my friends. When I met back up with them, Grum and Teynos were gone to fetch some more official support. They returned shortly after with a handful of guards in tow, the sergeant of whom demanded an explanation of our query with them. One of them was dispatched towards the Lionshields to enquiry whether they indeed store some of their goods in this facility, while another one accompanied by Nysqwen towards the warehouse for an unannounced control of the place. They were greeted by a rather charismatic man, strong in statue who greeted them warmly, offering wine and free entry into the building. When they returned, Nysqwen reported that they had access to the paperwork which seemed to be fully in order, with the apparent leader of the guardsmen being markedly open and friendly towards them. They even were able to glance inside the Lionshield crates, most of which turned out to be empty. If the people here were hiding something, they were doing so rather well. Upon this fruitless search, and the confirmation by the other city guard that the Lionshields indeed stored some goods out here, the two soldiers took their leave. Dissatisfied, we took to an inn close by for lunch, discussing the possibility of the Lionshields maybe even being roped in with the absconded wares themselves. In the evening, it finally became time to follow Lord Neverember’s call and join in on the council meeting. The same figures were present as in the last meetings, Layla Rösslingen, Zashier Khalid, Mayor Soman Glad, Balthasar Wörmling, Mantka Riiba with Tarosh and another guarding orc, general Sabin, the commander of the city watch Rama and of course the Lord Protector himself. Thus, in the presence of all these important folk, it was time to tell the tale of what had befallen us and what was discovered during our descent into the upper reaches of the underdark. Daril joined in soon as well and added to my report the details that I had missed and the proper locations of the cave system. Especially when describing the gigantic creatures fighting in the underground lake, a murmur was spreading around those listening in, especially Sabin and Wörmling seeming rather invested in their descriptions as if this was nothing, they would have much prior experience with. When I finished, Lord Neverember expressed his thanks for our scouting and presented us with the monetary reward for our troubles. Lady Rösslingen confirmed that she also had heard of the caravan raids in the north and added that she knew the Lionshield family well and thought it improbable that they would so lie to the guilds as to have caused the incidences themselves. Lord Neverember added that there was still plenty of work to do if we were so inclined. The observations of the Kuo-Toa had to be amplified, trade routes needed to be secured and then there was the matter with the awakened trees in the Neverwinter Woods. He and Zashier explained that this could be the doing of a deviant magic user and that there was still the until now cold trace of a certain Iarno Albrik who was highly wanted by the Lords’ Alliance. Finally, word of the new developments in Neverwinter had to be brought to Mirabar, where they also had high demand for adventurers at the moment. Layla Rösslingen added that in her position she could for now deal with the ongoings around the raided goods and do some research of her own if we wanted to tend to other things in the meantime. We offered to go to Mirabar in the name of Neverwinter and perhaps on our way deal with what had befallen the trees. Afterall, Grum had an old friend in the northern city who he had not seen in quite some time. And I am admittedly quite curious to meet this Quercus, if Grum permits. With heavy pockets and not much lighter hearts due to all the events around us, we went back to Anataea’s for the night. Upon our arrival, we noticed several notes on the table, Irakin had collected a couple of open jobs from the noticeboard we had seen a few weeks ago. The one with the lich looking for servants had an added line by the Halfling that that should be something for me. Well, I love that bastard, but he just never had the appropriate respect for the work of those that deal in the finer arts than just breaking and entering! When the next morning came around, we discussed our travel plans over yet another plentiful breakfast. Grum explained that Mirabar is a city with two distinct areas: while the upper level is mostly inhabited by humans, with some elves and halflings mixed among them, below the ground extended the dwarven city. A proper city, as he pointed out, with all the amenities a dwarf’s heart could desire and an important trading hub in the north. They exported all manner of ores and crafted metal, all of fine dwarven making. Unfortunately though, slightly further east was Mithril Hall, which shared almost the same export goods and in, as some said, slightly better quality. Therefore, there was an ongoing rivalry between the two places, even if they to the exterior they did not let on to any quarrels. The quickest way to get up there might be by boat up the Swordcoast, at the notion of which, Nysqwen’s eyes glowed brightly, or via two land routes: up the High Road to Luskan and then eastward along the river or first east over the Triboar Trail and then north from there. Luskan, in contrast to Mirabar, is not part of the Lords’ Alliance and thus has some tensions with Mirabar as well. Due to its proximity with Icewind Dale and the Spine of the World, it also can be a good bit rougher than Neverwinter. Ultimately, due to our interest in looking into the living trees and the potential for coming across a trail of Glassstaff, we decided to travel over land and take the High Road. Yet, it would be a track too long to absolve on foot, thus we went to the stables near the northern gate to purchase some horses, with Grum insisting on getting a donkey for himself. It turned out that Kyla had some experience with horses and ended up picking some for Teynos, Nysqwen, herself and me. When the animal was brought before me, I very nervously reached out to it. Animals don’t always take too kindly to my race, cats usually being the exception. But something about us, maybe a scent or so, makes them afraid or aggressive, or both, most of the time. Initially, the horse indeed dodged my hand, and I could see the hesitation in its large eyes. But eventually it seemed to calm down or accept its fate, showing some proper training in its past. We would fetch the animals later once we had finished our remaining business in the city. We split up now, I decided to first go home and leave a letter for Anataea and then to head to the Harpers. The others were visiting the Lords’ Alliance and would later inform me that aside from Lystramon we should inform the Lords’ Alliance there of the reopening of the lost mine of Phandelver and of the developments involving Drow, as there was another entry into the underdark through Mirabar. Our contact there would be Zashier’s equivalent, a man named Orsik Stonedigger. At the Harpers, I found Nissa in the same office as before, her badger bathing in the heat in front of the crackling fireplace. She told me, that in Mirabar I could seek out Adran, a person she called the Fox. There I might get further information or instructions, should they be required. The ship that we could have been on before going into the underdark had not yet returned even though it was overdue, but another vessel currently was in the harbour that had been battered heavily by storms rather atypical for this season. If the ship did not sink, there was a chance that it would have found its way to Luskan, meaning we could have a look for it there. With everything wrapped up and provisions bought, we finally set out from the city around noon. With the mounts we had purchased we made good pace. Towards the evening Grum pointed out a farmstead where he knew the owners to have a last night with a roof over our heads. After a hearty and filling meal provided by the family, we had an early night, not before Nysqwen and Teynos named their steeds Smith and Peter respectively. Travelling the next day went equally smooth, yet our backsides began to feel the toll of sitting on horse- and donkey backs for prolonged periods of time. Only Kyla seemed to be more comfortable, clearly this was not her first longer ride. Eventually we reached the fork in the road where we knew to branch off to get deeper into the Neverwinter Woods. In the late afternoon, we came upon the place where we had fought the awakened trees and shrubs a few days ago. The formerly hypnotised trees were nowhere to be seen and our search revealed no new tracks that we could follow. Grum said that after a good night’s rest he might be able to communicate with the wild animals of the forest if they noticed anything strange happening, but for the night we felt uncomfortable to stay between the darkening trees. So, we rode a short stretch back the way we came and made camp in a small valley between hills, well away from the treeline. Soon, we were bedded down for the night, sheltered in a bubble of comfort against the elements and the most common threats of nature. With the very faint melody woven around us, sleep came easily and deeply until it was my time to watch, which went without any trouble. I had just found back to sleep after waking Teynos to take the last shift, when suddenly a thundering roar filled the air, majestic and terrifying simultaneously. All of us immediately woke up as dozens, if not hundreds, of birds rose from the forest, scared to death and the horses fighting against their reins. We jumped up only to find that the source of the draconic shout was Teynos, who seemed as taken aback by what just happened as the rest of us. Throughout the last two or so weeks he had spend many a quiet minute in meditation to get closer to understanding that strange manifestation he had found after the slaying of Venomfang in Thundertree. Apparently, he now had a breakthrough. Something about our half-orcish friend had changed – he seemed to stand straighter, more charismatic than before. We were all in awe at this display of our friend who was now eager to go straight back to his meditations in the hopes of finding more of these hidden talents. But he quickly gave up on that, too excited to focus on anything. Similarly excited was he that he now was able to speak to Nysqwen in Draconic and soon after I heard them hissing in unison in a strange melody, apparently singing a song together. Abruptly, Nysqwen stopped. She pointed out that there was one horse too many outside our tiny hut. She grabbed her glaive and strode out the protecting sphere to check on what was going on, when the fifth horse suddenly started to shimmer and shift in a very similar manner to Grum. Mere moments later a dwarf, clad in a green cloak and leaning on a wooden staff stood before us. He called himself Andrik and asked us what business we had in his forest and what the reason for the sudden tumult could be. Nysqwen explained that Teynos was just having a bit of ill-advised fun. Upon offering him a place at our camp he sharply refused, claiming he despised fire for all the destruction it could bring to his woods if getting out of control. Still, he sat down a few paces away to discuss our purpose so close to the Woods. Grum noticed something on the collar of the newcomer’s cloak which prompted him to wander over to the dwarf, sit down next to him and offer something from his flask. There was something else happening in that exchange but none of us was able to discern what unspoken communication had just happened. However, Andrik now explained that while we were here, there was something that he could use our help with. Since about two weeks, entire patches of trees have been burned down in the north-eastern reaches of the forest. Once he had witnessed how a portal opened there that seemed to lead directly to the elemental plane of fire. Beings that he called azers had come forth from these portals, humanoid creatures wreathed in flame and spreading heat and destruction among the plants he was determined to protect. Sometimes they were accompanied by others he called mephits. These patches usually occurred in circles, about 150 paces in diameter but he had not noticed any temporal pattern to them. We promised to help him find out the reason for this. In return, Grum asked if he knew anything about a mage that might recently have come here and himself tempered with the flora of the region. Andrik replied that while there occasionally were humanoids and goblinoids passing through the rim of the Neverwinter Woods, the latter also sometimes deeper, he had not seen anybody that would match Grum’s description. He appeared honestly surprised at what we had to tell him about our run-in with the awakened trees and said he would support us stopping such unnatural occurrences. After we forged this agreement of helping each other, Andrik has now left to tend to other matters in the forest. Over breakfast, Kyla has kindly offered to begin teaching me some elvish, something I have been meaning to do for a while! What better way is there to learn about a culture or people than learning their language and its peculiarities! And to weave consistent stories or write moving songs, such understanding was in dire need. We have just finished breakfast and she has already told me more words than my poor head could process in this short a time, especially after the events of this past night. But I am eager to learn more! Just don’t lose focus on the task at hand and healing the forest, Morthos!

Out of the Dark
8th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Covered by the mushroom forest, we circled the underground city to both sides as far as possible. It was built on the shore of another huge, black lake, to which Daril said it might be a branch from the Darklake. This fabled water system allegedly spans vast reaches of the underdark, consisting of lakes, rivers but also more artificial elements like canals made by Duergar. It stretches over several layers of elevation, connected both by waterfalls and locks. Judging by the visible size of the city and its inhabitants, it was large enough to home between one and two hundred individuals. Still, we were unsure how to continue. Despite their lack of animosity upon discovering my spying on the weapon transaction, walking into a city of alien people seemed like suicide. Still, we were keen to learn a little more about these creatures, whilst dodging fights as much as possible. I wondered aloud whether Grum was able to use his animal kinship to transform into anything that might be able to fly over the city. Whilst he was explaining that this technique had eluded him thus far although he constantly seemed on the verge of a breakthrough, following a sudden thought I began humming a little song I remembered vaguely from my childhood about the ruler of the night by one Johan Cornstream. I allowed Mystra’s weave to encompass the soft melody. Then Grum began to shrink. Feathers sprouted all over his body, his face contorted into a beak and large, dark eyes. I held out my arm which the owl readily accepted as a landing space before spreading its huge wings and heading off into the darkness of the cave. Upon his return both to us and to his dwarven form, he explained that unsurprisingly, much of the city had marine influences, from the quays stabbing out into the lake to the general smell of slightly rotten fish. Close to the gate facing us he had made out a large statue of a two-legged creature with a fish head, mighty pincers for hands and a spined ridge along the back. Multiple kuo-toa were gathered there, he presumed both for prayer and guard duty. Closer to the waterfront was an altar of sorts, perched upon with he had seen the limp bodies of several octopodes. Close to said altar was a large black hole in the ground. Whilst granting some insight into their culture, we were no closer to discovering the intention of the kuo-toa. Walking into the city of an utterly foreign and allegedly mad people still seemed not like a great idea, thus we decided to use the huge Zurkhwood mushrooms of the forest to our advantage as a vantage point. Although there were some fungal stubs and other signs of activity of the fish people at the outskirts of the forest, no clear paths would tell of regular larger excursions. After some consideration, Nysqwen managed to anchor a grappling hook in the lamellae of a particularly large mushroom. Teynos successfully climbed the attached rope and around the hat on top of the fungus. The hook dislodged when Nysqwen tried to follow him, but Grum transformed into a spider and joined our friend with a second rope. Together, they helped the rest of us with our ascend. We found ourselves perhaps six feet above the palisades, but with the distance to the wall, it still was hard to make out anything of what was going on beyond. We could all now see what looked like fluorescent lines that were spanned between buildings and the occasional person walking on what we presumed were elevated platforms. We gathered some distance from the brim, settled down and I weaved the protective dome around our small camp. Just before we all would bed down for the night on the wooden hat, a small patrol went past just below our mushroom. They passed by without noticing us, and not wanting to draw any attention from the town, we stayed put on our platform. During my watch, I took out the sending stone I had received from Nissa to inform her of what we had found thus far in the underdark. She responded to enact special caution around these strange kuo-toa, beings that could bring their own gods into existence if only they prayed hard enough. Additionally, she informed me that it was the second of Eleint, meaning we had lost two more days along the way than what I had accounted for in these notes, at four am. Next time I see her, I must remember to apologise for waking her at such an uncalled for hour. Once my shift drew to a close, I woke Nysqwen and tried to get some more sleep on the surprisingly rough surface of the Zurkhwood mushroom. Teynos woke all of us on the next morning. The night had gone by without any major incidents, although Nysqwen reported she had heard what might have been a loud and heated argument coming from the town during her watch. Upon hearing what I had to share from my messaging with Nissa, Kyla sent another message to the Lords’ Alliance, asking how they would have us proceed. Master Zashier Khalid told us that in his eyes at least we had fulfilled our obligation to figure out what was happening to the weapons in the underdark and that it was to our own judgement, whether we wanted to risk looking for further information in the town. Not long after that conversation had finished, Teynos called our attention to the lake, where two monstrous forms emerged. Each taller than the watch towers of Neverwinter’s city wall, the two behemoths fell onto each other with a deafening roar that echoed far through the cave system. The smaller one appeared blue in the fluorescent light and was a close resemblance of the statue that Grum had seen in the city the day before. The other, taller one was clad in slick, green scales with four arms, two of which likewise ended in pincers, the other two in huge fists. Enthralled and appalled at the same time, none of us could take their eyes off the fight of the giants. They pummelled each other with brutal force, pincers and jaws snapping so loud that we still could hear it as if a blacksmith was pounding away on a plate right next to our heads. It did not take long for the blue creature to win the upper hand. The four-armed monstrosity drew back deeper into the lake and then vanished in a frantic flight. The blue creature uttered one final thundering victorious roar before also submerging again in the dark water. None of us spoke for a good minute or two. Had there been any question as to what we would be doing next, this seemed to be the deciding factor – none of us wanted to get any closer to a village revering such a brutal and very much real creature. Teynos and Kyla said that the green creature weirdly resembled a Glabrezu and the blue one a Hezrou, two different types of abyssal demons, just with fish heads. If these were indeed manifested gods of the kuo-toa, shaped by their will and maddened minds, who knew where they had encountered such creatures before and then made them part of their cults. With the decision now more or less made for us, we started our way back to the surface within the hour. During our walk, I heard Grum quietly mutter something about owls and that he kept losing concentration again and again, much to my amusement, he seemed not fully aware of what had caused him to succeed into veering into a flying form the day before. Teynos picked up his old hobby of collecting mushrooms and we all discussed our next steps. We agreed that we would keep a lookout for any traces of the bandits that had stolen the weapons and perhaps deal with this issue before returning to Neverwinter. Two days we continued on our path without interruptions to the monotonous darkness. During the second night, we all were woken abruptly by Grum who with a pressed voice informed us that we were not alone. In the darkness beyond the thin veil of the little magical hut we all cowered in stood a figure. Tall, upright and unwavering, clad in flowing cloth that seemed to slightly shift even in the total absence of wind. Long, squirming tendrils were in the place where one would expect a mouth and even in the grey scales of the dark, we all could guess that the skin this creature was of a purplish hue, not from this world. I cannot speak for the others, but I collected most stories I now tell after I left home. Yet one of the earliest ones I remember hearing before going to sleep was that of a creature that was nourished by the thoughts of others, with total apathy to all creatures but itself. The mindflayer did not distinguish between young and old, poor or rich, if you had a brain to pick he would be interested in you. As prey and not for long, mind you, but a relentless interest it would be. It's focus clearly on all of us, the mindflayer spoke. A hushed voice, as if rarely used yet as unwavering as his form. Kyla immediately clasped her necklace and spoke a brief phrase and then translated what the creature spoke in undercommon. He asked for all of us to emerge from our dome to converse on equal terms if we had business with one another. Kyla responded we meant no harm if he did not mean any either but refused his request of our reveal. Whilst she was still speaking, all of us gripped or weapons (and instruments) a little tighter in anticipation what must follow. Much to our surprise, the mindflayer almost seemed to shrug, took a brief bow and with a quiet pop vanished into nothingness. Only then we realised that for the last few heartbeats, all of us had held their breath when collectively we broke into a loud sigh of relief. It was rather difficult to find sleep after this encounter, but the rest of the night went by without further incidents. During the next days we passed through the cave in which we had witnessed the weapon trade and eventually through the ruins of the old village. Along the way, Teynos had started tasting his way through the mushrooms he had collected, occasionally stopped mid-motion by Daril to prevent him from chewing the most toxic ones. On the other hand, the dwarf encouraged him to a dark red one that looked oddly like a tongue. Upon ingestion, nothing changed briefly. Then, every now and again, Teynos started throwing in weird and sudden comments into the silence, some of which were clearly utterly unrelated to the situation we were in. With a sly grin, Daril explained that this fungus caused one to speak whatever one’s thoughts were and added with an even broader grin that Teynos was saying astoundingly little. He also remarked though, that something like this mushroom might indeed come in handy if we ever needed someone to talk. At the end of the fourth day after our nightly visit by the mindflayer, upon some encouragement from Daril to push further we finally stepped out of the earth. A light, brighter than any we had seen in what felt like an eternity engulfed us as we left the mouth of the tunnel. Millions of stars were sprinkled over a cloudless sky, each too bright to directly look at. A slight breeze carried the smell of wood and leaves, a living forest all around us. The sounds of birds, rodents and other nocturnal creatures painted a soundscape so sweet that it brought a small tear to my eye. We all stopped for a moment just to deeply inhale the fresh smells and almost childish joy lit up each of our faces. A path led from the tunnel further into the forest, upon which Grum indeed found the hints of cart tracks, not but five days old. This first night under an open sky was probably the best sleep we had in almost three weeks. We started our way down the path more refreshed and in the best mood since our descend into the underdark. It windingly led westward away from the foot of mount Hotenow towards the High Road. Grum followed the tracks of carts that we others hardly could see in the dry dust; the last rain must have been several days ago. Every now and then, we saw obvious traces of maintenance work. Filled potholes, fallen branches moved to the side or trees uprooted to allow for a wider path. Given the state of the wood, none of these works were older than a few weeks which might coincide with the time the raids on the trading caravans had picked up their pace. Around midday, Grum signalled us to stop. There was a set of smaller tracks now breaking away from the main path into the underbrush of the forest. He found a piece of cloth on one of the lower-hanging branches, ripped off with some force. The track could be no more than two or three days of age. We did not have to follow this new track for long before we found the body. A human man laid face down on the forest floor in a patch of red-stained earth and moss. A palm-sized hole in his back made the cause of death very obvious. However, nothing on the ground or the surrounding forest gave any clue as to what had caused such a hole. The edge of the wound was not clean enough to be cut by something with sharp edges and there was nothing around that might have served as a large projectile. The track we had followed definitely made it look as if the man had been running from something but what would be large enough to cause such devastating wounds without leaving any tracks? Kyla said, we might give speaking to the corpse a shot. When she turned him around, I recognised his face as being amongst those we had seen in the underdark. Similar to what she had done to Kyorlin after his demise, she began propping up the body against a nearby tree and spoke an incantation to the Raven Queen. A silent wind picked up as the now in dull-grey light engulfed body drew air into shredded lungs. I could not help but shiver slightly at this sight. I trust Kyla a great deal and with her divine powers she has saved all of us from death multiple times. But this type of magic just felt… wrong. Foreign. Necromancy surely had a time and a place but that does not mean one has to feel good about encountering it. Unperturbed, Kyla began her questioning. From a rasping voice we learned that he and his companions were heading home, presumably somewhere along the sword coast. They were indeed responsible for the repairs on the street, but the corpse did not know or did not want to tell us what the kuo-toa were planning with the weapons they delivered. According to him, they also merely found a buyer in the fish people, rather than being approached for targeted highway robbery and weapon supply. When Kyla asked what had taken his life, the man’s dead eyes jerkily darted around the surrounding foliage as he rattled that it was the trees, and he only remembered a terrible weight. When Kyla let the body slump to the ground again, we indeed found some blood-soaked wood chips in the wound, the same colour as the surrounding trees. Nervously, we inspected the flora but could not see any stained branches or traces of movement caused by something other than wind. Grum mentioned the awakened shrubs we had come across in Thundertree and concluded there might be larger variants in existence, depending on the skill and ambition of the magic user that likely would be responsible for the awakening. Kyla’s eyes shimmered over at these words, but she said she could see no remaining traces of magic in the vicinity. We returned to the main path and followed it a while longer. Soon after, we found the remains of a hastily abandoned camp site. Clutter was left scattered everywhere, one of the carts we had seen under ground was reduced to a pile of broken planks and bent splashguards. One of the oxen laid motionless on its side, a large hole punched all the way through its body with the same type of method that must have been used on the man we left behind. Again, there were no traces of whatever had attacked the camp, only tracks that very hastily left the site in a westerly direction further along the path. Following these tracks, we eventually got to a stretch where the path became more narrow before taking a left turn and then vanishing from sight beyond more trees. Daril brought up that if there was an ambush somewhere, this would be the ideal spot to have one and offered to scout ahead. He vanished into the underbrush and few moments later appeared at the other side of the narrow stretch calling us to him and saying that the path on the other side was clear. Just as the last of us – Teynos – had entered the stretch, he called out that the trees were oddly moving in the absence of a strong wind. Just as we all looked around, six trees suddenly jerked forward, heavy branches swinging wildly among us. One of them crashed square into my chest, plunging all air from my lungs and pummelling me back a few steps. Two more of the living trees came up behind us and attacked Teynos, before he in retaliation began lashing out against the trunks in our north while Nysqwen was hacking into those to our south. Daril also began firing arrows into the trees, seemingly hitting vital parts to one creature that upon being hit with a comparatively tiny metal spike creaked in agony. Grum took out his trusted hipflask and took a hearty swig. Black tendrils crept from the flask to one of the trees, engulfing it and seemingly drawing out its lifeforce. The tree instantly withered and crashed to the ground, unmoving dead wood once again. Encouraged by Grum’s success, I conjured up the image of an identical flask, waved it to the remaining trees and tried to convince them to let off if they wanted to avoid that same fate. I still don't fully know what I hoped was going to happen, but the trees seemed not to be too impressed by that. I then felt a warmth washing over me and when turning saw Kyla winking in my direction before scorching one of the nearby trees with a flaming sphere. This seemed to be rather effective against our wooden foes. Multiple smaller shrubs now joined their larger tree brothers in the fight, these quite similar to those we had seen in Thundertree. With only minor bruises, Teynos managed to take out two of these immediately. Nysqwen uttered an enraged huff, opened her surprisingly large jaws and a stream of searing red flames engulfed two of the trees, burning away several branches and leaves on their exterior. Grum put his flask away and spoke something intelligible with his head cocked back into the sky. Dark clouds began condensing above our heads and from the previously clear sky, a bolt of crackling electric energy smote into one of the trees next to Nysqwen. Seeing us outnumbered, I chose to change my tactics. After the madness of the depths the hatred of the language that came over my lips was accompanied by hints of a strangely calming feeling of familiarity and superiority. One hand held high, my fingers now appearing in their natural, more claw-like shape, described the shape of three triangles in the air. The same burning symbol I knew was now visible to three of the trees and one of the smaller shrubs. All of them stopped mid-swing and stood completely still with their attention captivated by the mark of Asmodeus. And somewhere within me, a quiet voice, silenced by nightmares of eternal darkness and horrid abominations woke, thrilled by this display of control. With steel, fists, lightning, fire and other magics we managed to fend off the remaining trees and brushes. Quickly, we hurried down the path away from the still hypnotised trees and after our original quarry. I am all too happy to have left that place of strife and the hungry voice in my head for now keeps quiet. I cannot deny the effectiveness of what has happened. But if I will ever grow accustomed to the means with which I achieved this, only time will tell. We have stopped for a quick breather. But between the tracks we found at the entrance to the underdark and those we now were following, we definitely gained some time on the bandits. Perhaps there will be some justice we can bring to this world after all.

Fishy Business
30th (?) of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Despite the accumulating exhaustion and the torment of the last night, we saw ourselves forced to press on, following Grum through ever-dark tunnels of bare rock. Shadows were dancing around us even in the absence of light. Shapes that seemed alien and yet so familiar, small, long, near and far, impossible to tell where they came from or if it was just my mind playing a game of illusion with itself. It felt like an eternity, when Grum finally stopped and explained it was time to rest for the night. We made our camp weary of voices that might break through the silence at any point and hardly spoke before bedding down. Therefore, I found myself quite surprised when I eventually woke up by myself and filled with some new strength for the day. Still, the prospect of repeating this tiring pattern once again was only bearable with the knowledge of not having to endure it alone. After a few hours, we found ourselves following a small trickling stream that Grum latched on as a guide for the way downwards. Eventually, this new guide led us into another huge cave. Crumpled walls and broken tiles told silent tales of an underground settlement long abandoned. The stream trickled further through the open space before vanishing in the dark but once again the faint sound of gentle waves washing over smooth stone conquered the ever-pressing silence. The ceiling of this space almost vanished in the dark and to our right and left further hallways diverged, the latter of rather formidable size. Amongst the numerous ruins two shapes stood out. One had the architecture of having once been a temple of sorts, the other was positioned at the side of what might have been a marketplace in a forgotten time. The remaining structures might have been homes, stores and workshops but practically nothing remained to tell of their former occupants, any furniture had either long been taken or rotted away. Grum grabbed a handful of dust and blew it in all our faces without warning. We all had to suppress a cough and a curse but in a familiar fashion, the surrounding shadows, today a little less haunting than the day before, drew closer to shield us from potentially praying eyes. Thus hidden, we began our exploration of the ruined settlement. Kyla judged that the former temple must have been a holy site of Moradin once, which was in line with the size of doorways and old streets that we had passed by. Teynos was drawn towards the front doors of the large house on the marketplace and with no heed to the rest of the group set out into that direction. Having witnessed that song and dance once too often, I quickly followed him to hopefully prevent us from having to rush to our unconscious friend should he encounter something we might have better tackled as a group. In contrast to the houses all around us, the walls were sufficient to still support a second floor. Despite our efforts to open the old stone door as quietly as possible, we could not avoid a small rumble as it scraped over the rough ground in the first time in Mystra knows how long. Through the opening, we saw a room that might have been made not only for dwarves but also taller humanoid with a collapsed wall on the side opposite from us. Beyond, a good hundred feet out another large and entirely black lake filled the far end of the cavern. Similar to the other ruins we had passed by, all wooden or fungal furniture had been removed and thus all the rooms we scouted out proved to be completely empty. In one of them a set of stairs led to the upper floor. Closer inspection of the rubble around suggested that this stair had been used rather recently. Before I could advance any further on that, I heard Teynos approach who proclaimed he had found an arrow in a corner of the room. Indeed, when he led me to a corner of the room, I was presented with a patch of mushrooms that covered a good portion of what remained of the wall. A section of them had been removed in what looked like an arrow that pointed towards the shores of the lake in the distance. At this point the others had joined and together we decided to follow the direction. When we reached the shore, we found that the small stream we had followed fed into the eerie body of dark water. A brief search revealed another arrow, this time laid with small stones that pointed towards one of the tunnels that branched off the cavern. Our best guess was that these were signs Daril had left for us to follow. We were still wondering though why he had not waited for us and why he had set out by himself to find a different path to this cavern. Nysqwen contemplated if the dwarf might have a secret and forbidden romance with a drow and found himself caught in the middle between two adversary parties. I responded that she had read too much Tusk Love to be caught in these romanticised thoughts. For the first time in what felt like eternity, first she and then everyone in our group burst into a fit of laughter. Perhaps spurred by the pent-up anxiety and horrible circumstances we found ourselves in, we forgot about the need to be quiet for this brief occasion and allowed ourselves to be taken away by the inexplicable magic a laugh can have on the mind. After all the hardships, pain and mental agony we had suffered over the last few days, this moment felt more refreshing than any of the rests we had had along the way. Like a warm breeze on a sunny summer’s day the laughter managed to drive away the sorrow and stoic thoughts, even if just for this brief shimmer of joy. And still, when we proceeded on our way the knot, we all had felt in our stomachs seemed a little looser. The smile on Nysqwen’s scaled face alone was worth our breach of stealth. As we continued, the path before us showed clear tracks of regular activity. Multiple sets of cartwheels had carved through the rubble and humanoid traces led in both directions. We continued our pursuit for a few more hours before exhaustion got the upper hand and we ducked into a side tunnel to make camp for the night. This evening, we exchanged stories a little more cheerfully and had possibly the best sleep since our descent into darkness. On our march on the next day, Kyla suggested to send a message to Daril. Following her questions, he quickly responded that the arrows were indeed from him and told us to continue and follow these marks. Indeed, over the next few hours we kept finding more and more of them, sometimes laid from small stones, sometimes drawn with some form of chalk on the wall or ceiling. After continuing this way for almost an entire day, Grum suddenly told us to quiet down. In the distance, behind the next bend in the tunnel we could see the faint flickering of light. Kyla offered to magically gather some intel of what was waiting for us there, sat down and began muttering a prayer with closed eyes. She narrated what she could hear from conversations in the cavern from about ten different male and female voices, all speaking common. The group spoke of a raid they recently had pulled off of a caravan train and that their trade partners were running late. The last part seemed to distress them quite a bit as they seemed as uneasy in the underdark as we ourselves felt. They only referred to these partners as “creatures” for the most part, but eventually Kyla heard them speak of “fish people” and “madlings”. The rest of their conversations did not reveal any further helpful information. Following her observations, I myself called upon Mystra’s protective cloak and vanished from sight. Invisibly, I snuck up on the corner and taking care not to disturb a single pebble, peaked into the new cavern. Four wagons, three of them covered were parked at the far end of the cave which was bisected by another minor stream of running water. The stream emerged from a tunnel to my right that then vanished in another one at the other side of the cave. A second tunnel on the left side and a larger one across from my vantage point exited the cavern. The ceiling was a good bit higher than in that of the tunnels and the walls once again were overgrown with a multitude of mushrooms, whose plethora of colours were revealed by the shine of flickering torches. Three oxen drank from the fresh water. Amongst the carts, various men and women were in the process of unloading a multitude of crates and barrels, most of them full with what appeared to be weapons. Four further humans were standing guard, mostly eyeing the tunnel from which the water emerged. One man that by his demeanour and clothing might have been the leader of the troupe paced amongst the others and would again and again stop at one barrel and take out something that I could not see from my position. I did my best to commit his face to memory though, should we be able to bring that up with the reigning parties in Neverwinter. One further detail did not go unnoticed: The barrels and chests unmistakably bore the symbol of the Lionshields! I headed back to the others and informed them of what I had seen. We decided to take a vantage point in one of the adjacent tunnels to wait for these ominous fish people and see what dealings were to be witnessed. Much to our surprise, the tunnel we picked was not as empty as it first had seemed, as suddenly we bumped into Daril who seemed to have had a very similar idea. We caught up with him and asked why he had sent us on such a perilous track. Surprised he asked what had taken us so long, we should have been in the cave with the ruins over three days ago. When we explained our path, he had to suppress his laughter as he told us that in the very first cave we had come through we should have taken a different path that would have been much safer and quicker. Many of my companions seemed very unhappy with him waving it off so easily but I think I understand where he is coming from. Who knows how long he had been delving on expeditions like these, after a while one tends to forget that the perspective of the uninitiated can differ vastly from ones expectations. When we informed him of what we had learned from the party ahead of us, he said that these fish people must be kuo-toa, a mad people indeed. They had been slaves of illithids for many generations and only recently were able to free themselves. But their captivity had driven them into madness, dreaming into life equally mentally deranged gods whom they now served. No one knew much about them but if they were buying vast amounts of weapons from the surface, something was brewing that might erupt in a war with whom knows what. He agreed to our notion of waiting for the kuo-toa to arrive and witness what would transpire then. Thus, we settled down in the darkness of this side tunnel and gathered around for a meal under the protective sphere of the notes I wove to conceal us. Eventually, Teynos shook us all awake as he heard the approach of shuffling and splashing creatures. Daril took the lead in sneaking ahead while we at first held back to not give away our position. Then, I once again made myself invisible and followed our dwarven leader. Silently cursing after almost making it to the entrance of the cave, I returned to my friends, pulled out the spell scroll I had received from the Harpers to be able to understand what might be spoken during the trade. Unfortunately, that meant that I had to repeat the process of vanishing from sight before yet again heading towards the cave. When I reached the entry, I could see a good dozen creatures with blueish-purple skin, slightly shorter than the average human but with large, fish-like heads standing on the side of the cave closer to me, facing the human raiders. The apparent leaders of the two groups were speaking to each other in undercommon, discussing the price of the wares. I had just stepped out of the tunnel, when suddenly the kuo-toa closest to me turned around. Large, bulbous yellow eyes stared right at me as if they could see me without any issue. I froze. But nothing happened. Neither did the humans seem to take notice of the sudden shift of attention of the fish people, nor did they themselves say anything or approach. Carefully I backed up a few steps while still being able to hear what was discussed. The final sale was agreed for two large silver ingots, one thousand gold pieces and some seashell necklaces. Quickly, I hurried back to the others to hide whilst the humans audibly broke down their makeshift camp and started heading our way to leave the cavern. Three of the four carts passed by us, the last one was left with the kuo-toa as part of their deal. We did not intend to meddle with the humans for now, as our task was to find as much information as possible. And so far there was no hint whatsoever as to what the role of the drow in this might be. Therefore, we left our hiding spot once we deemed the humans out of earshot and followed the fish people. As we came into the cavern, Grum noticed a pebble arrow that pointed down the tunnel where the water stream emerged from. Following that, we soon after met Daril who informed us that our quarry had made camp ahead of us and that we probably should do the same to gather our strength. Once the dome was set and we all gathered, Kyla sat down with Nysqwen and presented her with the small raven amulet that she had made these past few days. I swear there was a tear in the eye of the hulking, muscular female dragonborn at this gesture! Thus exhilarated, we spent the night without further interruptions. Two days did we follow the kuo-toa. Daril led us on steadily, occasionally pausing to leave some form of marker that was pretty much non existent to our eyes. Only Grum seemed to be able to make out what he was doing there and himself seemed to give it his best effort to memorise the path we were taking. Today, we finally emerged into a enormous cavern, by far the largest we have come across so far. The ceiling and walls escaped our view in the darkness but before us a veritable forest of surgewood mushrooms blocked the view deeper into the cave. We followed the track that was wide enough to let a cart pass, marvelling at the softer ground as stone shifted to humus which allowed these massive mushrooms to grow unhindered. We have now made it through this forest and are faced with the first real sign of active civilisation: across from us is a settlement, surrounded by a palisade and watch towers. Finally, sounds as if of a bustling city can be heard from the other side and just barely fail to obscure the sound of lightly swashing waves in the distance. Now we see ourselves faced with a hard choice. Are we content with what we found thus far and make our way back to cut the time in this worldly nightmare short? Or do we stay and try to find out more? Afterall, we have no clue what these kuo-toa are up to and the question how the drow fit into all of this still lies heavily on my mind. Knowing my friends a bit though, I reckon it will be a good while ‘ere we will bathe in the late-summer sun again.

The Madness of the Dark
24th (?) of Eleasis, 1481 DR

All dried up, we started our journey deeper into the underdark. Grum and Nysqwen were leading the way, my old friend seeming quite happy and confident this deep under the earth and following clues none of us really could identify. Darriel had instructed us to head steadily straight on but that turned out to be far easier said then done. Quickly, I and most of my friends had completely lost our sense of direction, the tunnels were winding, interlacing and seemed to build a labyrinth of consistently grey stone walls. Once we were out of earshot of the pattering water, not a single sound was to be heard apart from our own rustling and occasional hushed conversations. Darkness and silence not only obscured our navigational capabilities but also rapidly annihilated every sense of time. With all of us being capable to peer into the shadows at least to some extent, we abstained from lighting a torch to not draw even more unwanted attention. With unmarred purpose, Grum was guiding us straight down into the mountain. The scenery of jagged rock, occasional patches of fungi from which Kyla had to physically drag Teynos away and scattered boulders did not change for what must have been many hours before suddenly the path widened. It gave way to an enormous cave. The ceiling was hidden in darkness beyond our visible range. The walls were lined with what looked like veins of a green-blueish glowing ore or crystal and two more tunnels left the cavern to our left, another one to our right. In front of us the cave turned into a pitch black, stony beach at which small waves gently licked over glistening dark stone. Along the waterfront stood a collection of humongous mushrooms, each standing taller than myself and Nysqwen combined. We had come across these surgewood mushrooms in our research in Neverwinter, they could reach up to 10 paces in height and were vital to many civilisations in the underdark as they were the only source of wood-like material for structures, furniture or weapons. Grum took a brief time looking about for any hints or tracks of recent humanoid activity but could not find any. Eventually, he knocked on one of the mushrooms, causing a shower of palm-sized, edible spores to slowly drift towards the ground. We collected them to fill up our rations after Teynos bit into one and satisfied announced that they had a slight nutty taste. We decided we had come far enough this day and set our camp along one of the walls of the cave, far away from the unknown depths of the lake. Kyla spent the evening carving a little figurine from a piece of mushroom Whilst we were preparing a soup from the collected spores. The night in our tiny hut went by quiet with me having the last watch. Without a sun to declare the arrival of a new day it was hard to judge if I was cutting short my friends’ sleep when I wanted to wake them but that could not be helped. Right before I could reach out to Teynos who was closest to me though, a soft and measured voice cut through my troubled thoughts. The androgynous tone was calm and questioning yet the words, whilst reminiscent of dwarvish or common not in the slightest understandable. A chill ran down my spine. The last time this happened we were faced with a rat out of hell although there I at least unfortunately was able to comprehend the language. Quickly now I woke the others, telling them what just had transpired. Kyla reached out, placing her hand on my shoulder and asked if she was allowed to try something. I bade her to proceed and she grasped her raven amulet, casting a spell. Nothing happened. She asked if I could repeat what I had heard initially and following her request I imitated as best as I could the sounds that still haunted my thoughts. I never was the best at imitating voices, I preferred to be more subtle in general, but nonetheless the words themselves seemed close enough to what I had heard. And strangely, this time I was able to understand them! “Greetings to thee, Upperworldler! What business do you have in my realm?” Not at all unsettling. I shared this insight with the others and Nysqwen stated that it must be undercommon, as it sounded so close to the languages familiar to us. Still, none of us had any idea as to who this voice might belong to or if we had to worry about being continuously watched. Still, there were not many options for us other than pressing on. Kyla went over to one of the veins that indeed tuned out to be more crystalline than metallic. The majority of the material appeared to be clear, glass-like while inside was a substance that looked more organic and emitted the fluorescent blueish light. She kneeled down in front of the wall to meditate. Once finished, she said that the glowing substance seemed to shimmer in a magical hue and also that the entire air in this area seemed to be filled by some minor magical essence. That essence seemed to grow stronger above the water surface, making us want to leave the space even quicker. Yet before we left, Kyla broke a splinter of the crystal from the wall for later use and tucked it into her pouch. We tried the diverging paths for a brief while and quickly determined the tunnel that would lead us deeper, following Darriel’s instructions. To confirm our suspicion, Kyla rummaged in her bag and found her Augury spell scroll. I gave her the ivory dice we had found with the hags which she cast to determine if that tunnel indeed would lead us to our target. All dice fell in front of the chosen tunnel, a good omen as Kyla stated. Not only that but all of them showed six dark eyes. Another shiver, this time accompanied by cold sweat overcame me. 6-6-6 – certain things would never stop haunting me. The tunnel soon took a steep bend downwards making further travel perilous. To secure one another we bound a rope between all of us and stepped on the treacherous path. It went to fast to recall who slipped first but merely two paces down the slope I felt a harsh tug at my hip and all of us went from a slow careful pace into a brisk, rough slide down the steep tunnel. Slick from trickling water, we gained a lot of speed which only led to more bruises and cuts from stone rushing past us. The giant spiral led deeper and deeper, until again the tunnel seemed to widen. Teynos and I managed to find a pit of purchase in cracks at the wall and jammed our hands and feet in as hard as half-orcish and tieflingly possible. We gritted our teeth and held on with all our strength as our arms seemed to be pulled from our shoulders from the immense force of a dragonborn, a dwarf and a half-elf in full armour tugged at us. We barely managed to hold on and prevent all of us from falling into a bottomless pit of blackness that opened beyond a slim stone lip at the outside of the tunnel. The others climbed up the taut rope and we all took a pause in silence to breathe heavily. The earth was split by a long fissure, the other side of which was about ten feet away from us. The lip we stood on seemed to continue further along the crack but was only a few inches wide. A light breeze drifted up from the depths and past us into the tunnel we had emerged from. After a bit of contemplation, Grum shifted into the form of a gigantic spider to crawl along the ceiling of the fissure and leave about a surprisingly strong strand of spider silk that he fastened in regular intervals to the stone with a sticky ichor. For further stability, Nysqwen and Teynos used their glaive and staff respectively as stakes to balance us against the opposite wall. Slowly and carefully, we traversed the crack in single file, making sure with each footfall that the ground would not just give way underneath our soles. Our arms and toes were burning when we eventually made it through to the other end and could find solid purchase under our feet once more. Exhausted we sat there for a while, our backs against the cool stone and gathered our strength before continuing to press on. During our mostly silent march, Kyla matched my pace after a while, and we walked side by side. Eventually, she broke the quiet, stating that she was convinced that no one needed to be ashamed or afraid for what might have happened in the past or for what they might not have had control over as it was bestowed upon them by birth. She was convinced that after this life was done only our deeds would matter, not our regrets or heritage. The raven queen would have a role to play in mind for all of us, hence her sending Kyla our way. And this fate was one of redemption and good intent. I replied how she could be so sure of her goddess intentions and what she thought of her life already being thought out by someone else before she even could take a first step. We entered a debate about fate and free will, far deeper than most I have had since leaving Anataea and my other friends for this adventure. She posed questions that begged for an answer I would not know and similarly seemed to find thought-provoking impulses in what I had to say about freedom. It was not long and in the perhaps most obscure circumstances we had found ourselves in yet. But I could feel a new dimension to the appreciation we had for each other’s company that took root in this discourse. Soon we fell silent again but now no longer on the verge od despair due to the deafening silence but exploring fresh thoughts and perspectives. Despite the silence all around and us being as careful as possible not to disturb that condition, we only heard the clicking and rumbling too late as suddenly a seven feet tall insectoid creature erupted from the wall next to us, swinging its large, mole-like claws. We had heard of these creatures called umber hulks, but it was too quick for us to avert our eyes in time and we all could feel the hypnotic tug of its gaze. Grum and Teynos failed to resist the effect and became limp, standing where they were merely staring at the creature. Nysqwen, Kyla and I did our best to halt it in its tracks, Nysqwen cutting deep gashes in its exoskeleton and Kyla and myself resorting to our magical abilities. Just in time could I irritate the beast enough that its mandibles missed Nysqwen’s head, but a second hulk emerged from the wall behind me to aid its comrade. Grum and Teynos finally managed to shake off the dazing effect and joined us in our fight, Grum transforming into a giant elk and charging at the newly emerged creature and Teynos staff and fists battered on the exterior of the other, searching for any weak points in the natural armour, all the while keeping our eyes off our actual targets to not get affected by their stares yet again. Nysqwen kept cutting towards the first foe yet it shrugged off the dealt damage with alarming ease. I muttered a phrase in the condemned language towards the creature in my back and satisfied found a slit with my rapier whilst it ran away in fear of which hell I had unleashed on its mind. Kyla sprinted behind the first attacker to place her hand on its back and dark necrotic energy extended from her into its form, for the first time briefly giving its pause in its relentless onslaught. In retaliation it lashed out at her and Nysqwen, drawing deep, dark gashes across their torsos and have them wincing in pain. Grum and Teynos yet again were ensnared by the hulks’ eyes which caused Teynos to stop mid-movement and Grum to dash away, down the tunnel from whence we had come. Worried for my friend who was clutching the cut above her Raven Queen medallion, I turned my attention towards the weakened first attacker, hoping he would find my jokes as funny as a more gullible audience and thankfully it collapsed where it stood and wriggled on the ground uttering some strange clicking noises that I chose to categorise as insectoid laughter. Then searing pain knocked me from my feet and darkness overcame me before I hit the ground. “Look at that, you did all you could to help them and see what it brought you. Biting the dust yet again.” “And they speak of fate and determination, seeking to enslave the will that longs for freedom and peace. What are these so-called friends really worth?” “The sweet pain of dying. For a greater cause? That does not exist. Only your own survival matters. Care only for yourself and you won’t find disappointment.” “Use that pain. Make the world suffer, just as they stomped on you.” A hundred voices yet all the same, all swirling around me in this moment of darkness no eyes could pierce through. Were they opening a curtain or closing one? Impossible to tell. What if they were right? What was the purpose in life after all? What was it that this half-elf had said? That half-elf… Kyla. Something shifted in my mind like a heavy boulder falling to reveal a flattened blossom. These voices could not be right. There must be something else. Anataea… what had she told me all these years ago? Find your true story in silence. I took all my mental strength to block out the barrage of infernal words hammering against my mind. Fresh, cold air filled bludgeoned lungs as a foreign strength breathed life into my body. I opened eye lids as heavy as the lid of a stone coffin just in time to see familiar eyes look down at me and a white hand drawn from my chest. Kyla nodded satisfied and stood up. The noise of the still raging battle returned as I was praying to Mystra that the lack of light had obscured my features enough to not raise old questions in my friend as I hastily hid my appearance under the familiar mask and stood up. In that moment, I saw Teynos land a devastating punch against the area where the throat would be for humanoids of the last standing umber hulk, sending it to the ground with a heavy thud where it laid unmoving. We took a bit of time for a brief rest as I was not the only one who had received devastating blows. Grum carved of some of the umber hulk’s meat from inside their chitinous shells for later curious testing. Then we continued our march for a good while before finding a spot to rest for the night. Kyla took out the mineral she had taken from the large cave and stated that it was still glowing with unchanged intensity. It might be one of the rare materials that tapped into the weave of magic and could tangle with its potential and she decided to try and work it into her fungal raven carving. With Nysqwen’s help she splintered it into smaller pieces and went back to work on her carving. The next “morning” came without any incidents, and we continued our march. Even though physically we had recovered from the tribulations of the previous day, mentally there hardly was any rest to be found. My dreams had been marred by bickering and deceiving voices and the lack of light, fresh air or sounds slowly were leading to erratic thoughts. At least our steady foot falls were something to audibly cling to, all that remained of orientation. Some time later we found the entrance to another cavern. Getting closer however revealed that it was utterly covered in piles of bones, varying in size from small rodents to humanoids and potentially even larger creatures. Four natural pillars seemed to carry the high ceiling which in its centre was broken by a large hole that seemed to extend into a smooth shaft. Kyla warned us that she could sense the presence of undead creatures oozing from this place scattered throughout the white piles. There were three other tunnels exiting the cave but either way we would need to cross this cave to proceed. And as Darriel had instructed us to continue on a straight path down, we likely needed to traverse the entirety of the chamber. Grum used some of the bone dust to blow into our faces and shadows seemed to edge closer to obscure us from peering eyes. Thus cloaked, we began our crossing. We had barely made it half way hugging the right-side wall when some of the piles began to clatter and shift. Large bovine skulls lifted from the ground attached to rotting spines and bony limbs. The skeleton closest to us measured a good seven feet, humanoid except for the horned bull skull. I had heard stories about minotaurs but never seen one, let alone an undead one. I raised the wand of magic missiles to unload onto the foe before us and tried to get as much distance between myself and the five eerie skeletons that were blocking our path. Teynos, visibly relieved that there were things to punch again, charged another one and struck it with heavy blows. Kyla advanced, shouting that we should bring all of them as close to her as possible. Whether Grum understood what she had in mind or not, he turned into a giant snake and wound his massive form around the minotaur just in front of Nysqwen. Now the silent beasts began charging at us. They had barely gotten within 30 feet of us when a blinding yellow light emerged from Kyla, bathing us in a long-lost feeling of safety and causing three of the approaching monsters to turn around and flee on the spot. The remaining two stood their ground and fought fiercely yet where luckily quickly overcome by the five of us. Kyla urged us onwards as the spell she had deterred the others with would soon fade and they might return to seek revenge. Following hers and Grum’s lead we quickly traversed the rest of the cavern, pausing only briefly to wonder at the perfect circle that the hole in the ceiling was. Whatever it’s origin, it definitely did not appear to be natural. But we were not keen to find out what might have left such a large hole and a cavern filled with skeletons in its wake. During our continued journey, the silence, darkness and consistency of our surroundings began to take a heavy toll on all our moods. Especially Nysqwen seemed rather shaken as she quietly hummed a sea shanty. Kyla asked for stories from her time on the seas and telling about the wild storms she had conquered, beasts she had vanquished and wonders she had seen seemed to take not only her but all our minds off the desperation that was looming in our minds’ dark corners. Eventually we decided to take another rest and find some sleep. The following day was much of the same. I had never encountered any period that long with that little sound. My mind was feeling numb from the lack of acoustic stimulation, causing me time and time again to start humming pieces of songs, as if to remind myself what music even sounded like. Where are you, Mystra, in this vastness of stillness? From time to time we passed sections of the wall where small glows tones gave off minute bits of light which only reinforced the darkness that filled the void between them. It felt like eternity before we allowed ourselves to make halt again and bed down for the night. We had found a small alcove where I set up our little homestead and finally that familiar melody was weaving around us again, lulling me to sleep almost immediately. Only heartbeats later, or so it felt like, was I shaken awake by Kyla who had had first watch, with a finger pressed to my lips. All of us jumped to our feet as the peaceful melody of our hut was pierced by distant screams and groans of unimaginable pain. Lower and higher pitches, some wailing some ending abruptly. A cacophony of sounds where there should have been only silence, strangely misplaced and yet befitting the horrible world we had found ourselves in. These voices did not have a direction to them and were still audible when we tried to cover our ears with just the same intensity. Why did these voices sound so familiar? Unintelligible muttering joined the madness making it all the more oppressive. Was that Vellith? A scream never uttered. Now haunting, longing and cursing all at once. I was unable to move. Unable even to close my eyes. I just sat there. It must have been hours before the screaming suddenly just vanished. Dead silence like a cold embrace took hold again. I collapsed where I sat and heard a heavy thud as Nysqwen suffered the same fate. Our other friends told us that they were unable to release us from the grasp that the barrage had clasped us in and wearily tried to get the rest needed to recover for the next part of the march. We now just had breakfast and my hands still are shaking from the night. The shadows suddenly seem to be moving, crawling with a mind of their own and wanting to suffocate what hope we might still carry within ourselves. Teynos and Kyla seem not as shaken but I can see in the shadows under Grum’s eyes and the nervous twitch in Nysqwen’s tail that they feel the same. The madness of the dark is beginning to take hold.

Forth To New Adventures
19th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

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.

The Birth Of The Green Scales
16th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

The following morning was started off with a hearty breakfast, shared by all of us, Irakin and the children. Nysqwen was the only one missing, her snores were almost audible in the dining room. Spirits were high as we had slept particularly well, for the first time in a while not having to have watches or the constant threat of an undesired encounter. After the meal, Grum muttered something in his beard and disappeared the quickest while the rest of my friends one by one set out to go about their business for the day. I stayed behind the longest, still looking out the porch window over the river. I allowed my mind to wander for a bit, my fingers as if drawn to it fiddling around on Riddlepike’s Lyra and humming a new melody that was taking shape in the subconscious part of my mind. It took me a while to realise that Nysqwen had come down and taken a seat at the table and was listening to the composition in the making. I brought the piece to a conclusion after a few more bars, returning her smile and then asking what she would be up to for the day. In her company, devoid of that of all others, I let all illusions fade away to honour the trust that I had found in her from our conversation at a fireplace in a certain ruin. She responded that she wanted to have a chat with master Zashier and learn more about the Underdark and what might be lurking for us there. Ultimately, with a sly grin she mentioned she wanted to visit Amber again. As my first stop for the day would be with the Harpers, we left for the Protector’s Enclave together. Arriving at the Winged Wyvern we briefly paused to gaze upon the glittering sun light on the river and followed its course towards the clear sea. For a short moment, Nysqwen’s face seemed to be overshadowed by a longing and almost grief for something long lost when she faced the gentle waves that thudded against hulls of tied-up ships. But it was gone as quickly as it had come. I promised her that the sea was there, waiting for her return with the same longing and it would still be there once we emerged again from the bowels of the world. And when we did, we shall set sail together and see where the winds will take us. Furthermore, if she was off to see Amber, she should maybe bring her some of the copper we had come across in the mine as a greeting gift. Nysqwen hugged me impulsively before we parted ways and then set off with a new skipping in her stride towards the Lords’ Alliance. A brief moment of hesitation later, I continued on towards the Harpers. Again, no guard seemed to be looking over the entry way. I stepped through the familiar large double doors and came into a room with no further doors. Across from me, the same man we had encountered before sat in a comfortable looking armchair at a desk, reading an old-looking book. He looked up and without asking for my cause posed me with a riddle. Cursing internally for not having brought Archie along with me, I did not lose my smile and took a seat on the floor on my side of the table and began contemplating his phrases. I sat there for longer than I would care to admit before I realised that the form of the puzzle was that of a charade, determining the number of words and respective syllables that the answer was comprised of. Finally, I gave my answer. The man looked up from his readings, a smile crept across his lips and then wordlessly returned to his study. Looking around the room, I found that behind me a second door had appeared in the wall, through which I entered into a new chamber. A comfortably looking room ended in two large corner windows that revealed that I somehow had entered the second floor of the building. A small fire was crackling in a fireplace to my right and on the windowsill slept a badger of all things. A massive wooden desk occupied most of the chamber, covered in papers, scrolls and books, from behind which Nissa greeted me warmly. I explained to her what had occurred over the last week and a bit and explained why I had come alone. She was willing to exchange the two scrolls that I had brought with me from the dragon’s treasure for one that I would be able to use. To my delight, I found one that would allow me to communicate with any being in any language for a limited amount of time and figured that this might come in handy in any diplomacies that we might be faced with going forward. Then Nissa went on to explain to me why she had summoned Archie and myself before the whole Lystramon affair. She told me about their scouts having reported shady dealings of Zentharim agents in the harbour, where they had hired a ship and crew to salvage a number of magical artifacts from an archipelago south of Neverwinter. These artifacts, to her knowledge, possessed strong elemental powers and might wreak havoc in the hands of the dodgy faction. She reassured me that Halia Thornton likely was not even aware of what was going on there and hence not involved but just in case, sister Garaele was having an eye on her. Our task would involve masking as crew members, getting to the archipelago and then beat the Zentharim to the artifacts, take them into our custody and bring them back to the Harpers. The ship was scheduled to set out two days from then, but it was unknown how long the entire operation might take. Unfortunately, I had to admit to Nissa that my friends and I had agreed to run a contract for Lord Neverember soon, likely rendering it impossible to be there for the ship’s departure. She understood that I did not want to break my word towards the Lord Protector and said, she then would offer the job to someone else of the faction. We should report back upon our return though, there might be more to do for us after that point. Eventually, I bade her goodbye and headed back to the chamber of the old man with the intention to browse through the library for some information on the Underdark. He challenged me to a further riddle. This one brought a small smile on my face as it was not the first time, I had heard that particular phrase. Although it was a long while since I last had thought about Rugnhar, he always had been fond of these types of puzzles. Upon telling the man my answer, he lost interest in me and went back to his readings. I chose to try the door I just closed and could not suppress a small sigh of relief when I indeed entered the library. A few hours later, I was convinced that I had filled my head with all the information it could take in one setting and left the faction building. A warm afternoon’s sun greeted my and was a welcome change to the darker surroundings of the house, especially the library. I strolled down the all-so familiar streets, taking in the smells I had grown so accustomed to and just enjoyed the feeling of being home as I made my way to a small workshop of the most ingenious human I knew. I entered the shop, instantly greeted by a host of metal contraptions, whirring noises and alchemical smells. Despite the bright summer day, all windows were covered up and hidden behind shelves of wares, raw materials and tools and only the occasional candle was lighting up selected sections of the room. A clanking sound followed by muttered curses announced Archie’s arrival from a second room. Both of us must have been grinning like idiots, delighted to finally see each other again! Excitedly, he showed me Voithos and Ori, both of which he had upgraded and had been helping him with other projects in the shop over the past days. In turn, I recounted our adventures since last we parted ways and invited him to join us for at least as long as we would be in the city. So gladly, he joined me on my way back to Anataea. When we arrived there, Kyla, Teynos and Nysqwen and Amber had already returned. While Kyla and Teynos were sitting in the kitchen, talking about some strong smells they had noticed coming from one of the richer areas of the cities (apparently, they had found the tanners, I am still surprised every time by people not having grown up in a city being phased by what they found in Neverwinter), the other two had taken over the kitchen from where lovely smells of fish and spices emerged. Apparently, they had gone to shop for ingredients from most of the harbours, Nysqwen previously had set foot on and now were preparing a feast for the entire house. Everyone was delighted when they saw Archie and happily continued detailing our journeys to him. Kyla explained that she mainly had spent the day selling off what we had harvested from the dragon. Teynos now insisted to be called ambassador, which none of us adopted, but apparently mainly had been speaking with Mantka Riiba and the Many-Arrows tribe. He declared it was his proclaimed goal now to change the view of the world on orcs and establish them as being at least in part valuable members of society. Additionally, he had received a monetary reward from the orc chieftain who was very pleased with the return of the orogs from the cave we cleansed of the influence of Yurtrus. She had promised further help for future challenges we might face and had told him about a group of orcs that at some point had set out to slay a dragon. Apparently, none of them ever returned, word being that they had been driven to insanity and deserted. When he had finished his report, Nysqwen and Amber called for our help to set the table as their dinner was ready to be served. And it was indeed amazing! A plethora of fish and other sea food came seared, fried, cooked and in cases raw but marinated, accompanied by potato and salad sides, freshly baked bread, and amazing wine. Soon, the smells filled the entire house and drew in the kids and Irakin as well, joining us for this monstrous feast. During the dinner, Nysqwen said she had learned from the Lord’s Alliance that Lord Neverember would summon us in a few days to give us more details about our quest. Together with Kyla and myself, we then began pooling our gained knowledge about the Underdark once the children had run off to bed and we started bringing out the harsher alcohol. We had learned quite a bit, described from different angles about the inhabitants and civilisations that populated the underground, along with its known flora and fauna. Our conversation however was cut short by a sudden knocking on the door. When I opened it, a from the starting rain rather wet Grum was standing in the door frame, sullen as I had not seen him in a long time. I bade him enter and quickly poured him a strong beer as he dropped on a stool and dove into some of the scraps of our meal. Upon being questioned by our friends he muttered something incoherent at first about wandering through dirt and rock, something about an apple and getting lost in caves. It took us a while to make some sense of his tale. He had followed a call from the faction that Reidoth had invited him into a forest north of the city. When he arrived, he was faced by a riddle with an apple upon the completion of which he had been teleported onto the elemental plane of earth on whose barren landscape he was searching for a remedy for Quercus. However, after some hardship he had to return empty handed. No one in “the Enclave” seemed to know anything specific about a sure-fire way to deal with whatever had befallen his friend but they gave him a few possible options, one of which apparently had been this other plane and plenty more to explore. The rest of the evening saw a lot of alcohol for everyone, especially Teynos was completely hammered by the end of it. At some point I snuck off to prepare a more isolated room for Amber and Nysqwen for the night but returned soon after. Eventually, only Grum and I stayed behind, while all others had hit off to bed. We opened a good bottle of whiskey that I had… found with one of the vendors in the Protector’s Enclave. Grum then began to explain in a little more detail where his search might lead him, revealing that one of these destinations turned out to be the nine hells themselves. Shocked by this revelation I turned quiet for a short while. When I spoke up again, as honest as was possible through the haze of alcohol obfuscating most thoughts, I nonetheless promised my old friend that no matter the destination, I would be at his side to help him on his search. And I am inclined to believe that amongst our small group, I was not alone in that notion. Early in the next morning, when we were still at breakfast (Amber and Nysqwen still had not left their new chamber), a messenger arrived in a formal uniform. I had to suppress a laugh when Irakin suddenly seemed to vanish at the sight of the colours of Lord Neverember, but the notion was quickly suppressed by my own uneasiness around people of the law. However, the messenger had only come to inform us that we were expected at a council meeting two days later, where the lord would give us further instructions. A while later, when the last of us had finally had their breakfast, we headed out to go over some shopping. Our first stop was with Yonove Ironbell. When she saw us, a large smile dug deep laughter lines all across her face as she excitedly greeted us. She seemed slightly disappointed that Archie, our mighty warrior as she referred to him, was not with us at the time but soon was occupied with Teynos who looked like a kid that had been promised all the sweets in a bakery when he looked around her shop. Kyla just briefly got her attention when she asked for a magically enhanced shield, before the woman turned to the half-orc again with a large helmet that was covered in gruesome looking spikes. As Teynos tried it on, his eyes lit up with a burning red, quite an intimidating look considering his burly features. According to Yonove, this however also was the only magical property the helmet possessed. Chuckling slightly at the notion, I turned to the rest of the shop, not paying the situation any further mind. Kyla indeed found a shield that she seemed very pleased with, while Nysqwen acquired a pair of goggles that apparently would help with her relative blindness in dark surroundings. Now picture this, a seven-feet-tall bronze-scaled lizard woman, broad shoulders, legs like tree trunks. Her torso decorated by a large breastplate and wearing a massive glaive on her back most of the time. Sharp teeth are glittering in her snout in the sunlight, and you get the sense that this is a person that can rip you apart with her bare hands if she set her mind to it. Now that you see this image in front of your inner eye, try to add a pair of black, thick-rimmed goggles to the picture that seem like they are at least two sizes to small. I still would definitely not want to cross that woman, but you better be careful not to be caught laughing at least slightly at such a sight! Still, it was of course an important feat that she would be able to see clearly in the dark, especially given our next destination. On top of that, Nysqwen also purchased a cloak that would muffle most of the usual clanking of her armour, making her at least slightly less obvious in most situations. To crown all this, Teynos apparently had found so much joy in that helmet that Yonove had presented him with that he had not only agreed to buy it, but also almost doubled the price that she initially had asked for – willingly! You just had to appreciate the merchant’s sense for business, who was I to judge someone who would use an open opportunity to their advantage. So, after a bit of haggling, we bought that helmet as well. Now, accompanied by a dragonborn that in the evening strapped on black goggles and a half-orc that wore nothing but a loin cloth and a spiked helmet, we truly must have been the most unusual sight that even Neverwinter had seen in a while. Next, we ventured on to Merrick Proudfoot’s elixir store. Once again, upon entering a small explosion seemed to occur behind the counter and green sparks sprayed through the small room. Huffing and puffing, the halfling came round, explaining he had been working on something that Kyla apparently had left with him the day before. Still, I am getting a little suspicious. These explosions seem so conveniently timed with the opening of the door each time… But maybe, he is just a rather jumpy fella. After browsing through his wares, we predominantly purchased a number of healing potions of different strengths and mentioned we might stop by at another time, once we had figured out if we needed anything more specific for our next adventure. The rest of the day and the majority of the next we spent on our individual little projects, which for most of us meant reading up more on the Underdark. We learned about occasional trading hubs that would connect different underground civilisations and sometimes even were visited by top world traders that brought new wares onto these markets. Other than that, most of their dealings seemed quite removed from any occurrences on the surface. This evening, we reconvened in the Singing Anvil, the tavern that most of us first had met each other. Kyla this time came a bit later and was burdened by a heavy pack that she set down with a loud thud and some clanking. She pulled back the strings and took out the armour pieces she had asked of us when we first returned to Neverwinter. Each of them was now decorated by a single, large and shining green dragon scale that had been masterfully inlaid and beautifully decorated. Each scale was bearing six individual carvings, all interwoven by an intricate knot-pattern. There was a still mask, framed by raven wings for Kyla, a gnarly, yet beautiful looking staff with wound vines for Grum, a clenched fist for Teynos, an angular spider for Archie, a large, broad-bladed glaive for Nysqwen and an elegant lute for yours truly. The order of the symbols was constant on each item but a different one, dependent on the wearer was sitting at the top of the scale. This extraordinary gift elicited cries of joy between all of us, even in Grum’s eyes I though I caught a slight wet glimmer. We all thanked Kyla extensively for this unifying symbol of our achievements. This was the hour the Green Scales came to their name, birthed long before, forged through many trials and finally it felt like we all had found an intrinsic link that had found expression in these armour pieces. After paying for the next round, I got up, motivated by the overall joy and began claiming the stage. I warmed up the crowd with a few well-known buoyant songs, spreading our mood throughout the rest of the tavern. The initially surprised-looking innkeeper soon waved to urge me to continue the songs as the orders for ale increased. When most of the patrons had risen to their feet and started dancing, I announced it was time to tell them about a new hero that had risen for the city and began plucking the first few chords of the song Nysqwen had heard the beginnings of the day before. Initial hesitation upon the confrontation with something new quickly faded from the audience as they quickly picked up the new melody and joined in for the chorus. A few of the other musicians that were present joined in and the final vocals were almost sung by everyone in the pub in unison. Incoming cheers rewarded me for y gamble, and I waved a hand in the so often trained manner at Teynos who seemed very pleased with himself and the song about him. I don’t know what it was. The rousing of emotions? The alcohol? The heat? Or something far more primal? A loud roar filled the tavern. Instinctively I raised my hand protectively to cover my head as a sound last hear from a fuming Venomfang echoed through the room. All laughter, in fact all noises fell silent. Only Teynos seemed completely oblivious to it all, still cheering and grinning broadly. Somehow, a strangely grand, almost commanding presence originated from him, and I felt the strange urge to repeat the just performed song. Once again, he seemed completely unaware that he had spoken in draconic and scared everyone in the audience straight. Nysqwen was the first to react as she in common cheered everyone on again to give the song a second go to manifest the lyrics properly. But I clearly heard the hidden tremor in her voice, although she had understood what Teynos had said, she still was quite shocked by the overall manifestation. I followed her call and this inner urge and soon the crowd was cheering again, probably attributing the circumstance to the drunkenness of our friend. Thank the gods that it had been draconic and not infernal that had been imbued into Teynos, else quite literally hell might have broken loose then and there. The rest of the evening went without further incidents and quickly all of us were joyful and talkative again. Nysqwen tried to explain to Teynos what had transpired but he seemed to deep in his cups to really understand what she was saying. We are back at Anataea’s now, although I am yet to see my dear friend again. For tomorrow, I definitely am intrigued what the Lord Protector of Neverwinter would have to tell the Green Scales before their descent into the Underdark. One thing though is for certain, this will not be the last song that shall be sung on behest of their accomplishments!

The Dragon
13th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

We replenished our stocks in Phandalin and paid a short visit to sister Garaele who confirmed Grum’s first speculations about the magical items we had found and bade us greet Archie once we saw him again. Then we set out towards Thundertree, anxious of what lay ahead with hardly an idea of what we might find upon our return. Two days later we arrived in the ruined village. A few miles before we already noticed the absence of the before ever-present sounds of birds, rodents and other wildlife, the dragon clearly had claimed his territory and all within. Grum once more ritually spread dirt across all our faces, magically imploring surrounding trees and other natural elements to lend their shadows to our aid and hide us from undesired attention. Thus enchanted, we began sneaking towards the first houses, immediately heading towards the one we encountered the druid Reidoth in last time. We found the door to be locked and could hear no movement coming from inside. Curiously however, Grum noticed a brown squirrel glancing down from the roof. It was the first animal we had seen in a good few hours and quickly vanished from sight when it noticed our attention. Then we heard steps approaching on the other side of the door and the familiar face of Reidoth peered through the door before ushering us in quickly. He explained that the dragon was indeed still here, slowly establishing its lair in the old tower. Over the last weeks more men clad in the outfits of the Cult of the Dragon had arrived, setting camp but also going up to the tower. Due to their uniform dress code, the druid was unsure how many of them actually had arrived, but he put it around two hands full. The despise in his voice was very noticeable when speaking about their dealings with the beast, an act that defiled all logic given how treacherous dragons, even worse, green ones were known to be. One could only wonder at the selfish desires that would drive a group of people to such lengths and it was about time that they were put to an end. Kyla knew that there were two main camps within the worship of dragons currently. The first believed, that ultimately the world would be ruled by the undead that were spreading in certain areas of the world which caused them to attempt to conjure draco-liches. The other fraction was aiming to ally the chromatic dragons to use them to purge the world of those they deemed not worthy to live. Thus, the ones we encountered here likely belonged to the latter group. Our general plan still involved Kyla’s suggestion of laying a trap somewhere in the vicinity with some bait and a glyph she could draw. Other than that, we agreed that ideally, we would not take on the dragon and his henchmen all at once but spread them out, otherwise there was little hope for us to begin with. Kyla mentioned the possibility of killing one of the cultists and then questioning his body, at which Reidoth turned up his nose, expressing he did not appreciate this new, holy magic, much preferring Grum’s adherence to the old ways. Still, it might have been a valid strategy to pursue to get more of an advantage on the dragon. For the time being, Grum and I volunteered to scout out the buildings in the village to see if we could find out anything about the cultists. Again, Grum made sure we would pass through the village without leaving any traces behind while I turned both of us invisible. Indeed, in the building that we had a skirmish in the last time we were here, we heard three voices talking silently on the inside, too low for us to understand what they might be talking about. The remainder of the buildings on the eastern side of Thundertree were completely empty. With these findings we returned to our friends to discuss our further actions. We decided it would be ideal to surprise the cultists currently hovelled up in the house we saw now while they were few and then hold out until we found an opportunity to deal with the remaining men and ultimately the dragon. Hidden by Grum’s spell, we scurried back to the hut and spread out around the two entrance ways. On a shared signal, I implored on Mystra’s gift to draw out every possible noise happening within the chamber we knew our foes in, balancing out every sound that would otherwise have alarmed their companions in the tower of our presence. The three cultists were taken by complete surprise and stood no chance as Grum in his giant toad shape and Nysqwen shredded them to bits within only a few heart beats and before any of the rest of us could even raise our weapons. The first part of our liberation of Thundertree was a great success, albeit at the cost of the brutally slaughtered cultists. After the recent adventures me and my friends had undertaken, we had grown used to the sight of bloody bodies, even more so than one would have from living in Neverwinter. Still, I could not help but feel a brief moment of remorse for the poor souls that had given in to the temptation of the cult yet not even had the chance to draw their weapons. But it had to be done, if we wanted to prevent this cult from spreading and the dragon from corrupting more of the area and eventually growing too powerful for anyone to handle. We did not find anything on the bodies that would tell us more about the cult or its intentions, nor any valuables. Kyla now went ahead out towards the back of the building, as she noticed that would make for an ideal location to place the trap. In the meantime, Grum, Teynos and myself went on another scouting trip, this time towards the north-western edge of the ruins. While we found all buildings to be empty, new footprints had disturbed dust and mud. Likely, the cultists on their path to take over the village had searched through them for anything useful or any potential threats. On our way back, we came across one of the small living plants that we had to fight off the last time we were here. I could not tell if this was the same one, we had tried to talk and sing to, but it remained where it stood amongst the bushes, neither attacking nor approaching us in any capacity. I had to almost pull Teynos back towards the others, otherwise he would have teased it long enough for it potentially drawing unwanted attention towards us. When we reunited with our companions, Kyla had already finished her preparations and Grum offered to head out and hunt for some animal to use as bait. He came back a few hours later, empty handed and disgruntled murmuring in his beard that there was nothing around for miles and that there was no point in the bait and that this entire venture was pointless to begin with. Nysqwen asked him if his fine nose as a wolf did not help him at all to at least find tracks when being out there. I could feel the fury burning up in my old friend when he regarded her with a long, ice-cold look to the malice of which she seemed completely oblivious. Without so much as a word, he turned on his heel and headed out again. Clearly, he did not consider assuming the shape of a natural predator for hunting game to begin with. Two hours later he returned, carrying the corpse of a deer in his snarling jaw. He then set out to tell Reidoth about our plan. He did not find the fellow druid in his home but left a message that he promised only few would know to read. ‘Ere he could head back, he said he had heard commotion from the tower and saw a gigantic lizard head lifted above the ruin. Then the dragon took to air and flew away in a northern direction. With Grum’s save return, we used the final hour of the day to go over our plans once more and then arranged guards for the night. When Nysqwen announced she would take first watch, I sensed an opportunity and offered my help during that shift. Kyla and Teynos would take the second and Grum the final period of the night. I took out the lyra once more, and weaved the familiar, calming melody around us all as we bedded down in the cultists’ house. This time, I was surprised to find slight imperfections in the shape, minor folds like in crumpled cloths. And I felt them coming from my own unease given the conversation that was bound to happen. My friends soon fell asleep as proved by their regular breathing (and Teynos’s snoring) but before I could say something, Nysqwen pointed out a figure that was hastily making its way towards the tower, jumping from bush to bush and only occasionally betrayed by the moonlight that was reflected on its mask. It was impossible to say where the figure had come from but the urgency in its pace meant nothing good. Had we been too loud? All the more important to be on high alert for the following hours! For now, Nysqwen and I sat down in our tiny hut, and we began to talk about the events of the last few days in a low voice. We sat there for a while, the conversation many a time paused to inspect our surroundings. And eventually, I managed to gather my courage. I began my story on a cold and unpleasant evening, many winters ago and did my best to make sure she understood the implications of my words. When I finished, she regarded me with a long, inquisitive look. Her bright eyes seemed to glow faintly while I could do nothing but hopelessly wait for her reply. Then, a smile entered her face. A little while later, we woke up Kyla and Teynos and got our share of sleep. We were torn from Morpheus’s arms by a thunderous roar long before the sun had risen again. The dragon had returned for the night and his assertion of dominance was enough to make us question every life choice that has led to the looming encounter. Teynos informed us that they had seen four further cultists enter the tower a while earlier and Grum had noticed a faint mist that had begun covering the ground all throughout the village. Kyla said that this might be the first symptom of the dragon setting up and infusing his lair and that it was about time to stop him from doing so. Once the sun had risen on an almost cloudless sky, Nysqwen prepared the deer for the trap, stuffing it with several of the acid vials we had from Archie and placing it out as a lure for the flying lizard. She had just finished and joined us back inside, when two cultists came down from the tower and headed directly towards us. Immediately, all conversations stopped as we tensely went for our weapons and foci, unsure what to expect of this. A good 20 paces before our hideout the figures stopped, drew their blades and demonstratively placed them on the ground. They closed in a little further before calling out to us. They announced that the Great Venomfang had been made aware of our presence and would grant us an audience to learn who was roaming his forest. After a bit of contemplation, we asked for some respite and told them we would get back to them and their master within the hour. We debated for a bit, Kyla especially was convinced that there was nothing to gain from such a meeting and we would be sure to lose every advantage we had in the prepared trap and being able to pick our battleground. I argued, that if the dragon had accepted this foul following in his realm, he might at least be interested in talking and would not kill us outright. This could give us the advantage of knowing what we actually were dealing with and what their number were. Thus, Nysqwen and I volunteered to go up into the dragon’s den. Tense silence accompanied our departure, Kyla laid her hand on my shoulder one final time, and I could feel some strange force wrap around me like a skin-tight suit. She took her hand from her necklace and nodded us farewell with a stern look. We walked towards the looming ruined tower, for the first time getting a proper look at the structure without having to hide in some shadows. It must once have been an impressive building, built elevated on a hill, overlooking the village. Now the top section had crumbled long enough ago that any scattered pieces of brickwork were overgrown with vegetation. At its entrance, two guards awaited us with raised crossbows. When we arrived, they lowered their weapons and bade us enter the structure. Despite the time of day, it was eerily dark in most parts. Old furniture, long demolished was still lining the walls; a number of beds and mats had been added more recently and might have served as lodging for the upper ranks of the cultists. Four of them were scattered around the tower and had been talking in the dragon tongue amongst themselves before they noticed our arrival and fell silent. Most of the area over which the tower once had risen was still covered in rubble, splintered wooden planks and dust, but to one side a large wooden chest spilled some metallic gleaming rivers from a not fully closed lid. And upon some crossbeams at the far side awaited the dragon. The beast was enormous, a good twenty feet from head to claw. Completely covered in green scales, his long neck ended in a massive lizard-like head with uncomfortably intelligent slitted eyes that peered down at us. He opened his leathery wings as far as the walls of the structure allowed and revealed an astounding amount of razor-sharp teeth as he opened his mouth and bade us welcome in the lair of Venomfang, curious what had brought us here at his feet. I had been in many perilous situations over the years. Even more so recently with my new-found friends and I still frequently have nightmares of our encounter with the banshee Agatha. But never before had I felt so insignificant in the presence of another mortal being. The notion that humanoid races claimed Faerûn for themselves seemed straight up ludicrous given both the physical as well as charismatic presence that this dragon claimed – and it was only supposed to be a young one! The mixture of awe and terrible fear made my heartbeat so loud up my throat, I would be astounded was it not heard by everyone in that chamber in the pause that followed the dragon’s words. Finally, I reclaimed possession over at least my tongue and replied to the dragon as close to the truth as I dared that we had heard about his greatness and had been too curious not to make his acquaintance. In the following conversation I tried as much as possible to appeal to his ego and flattered him wherever I saw an opportunity. My singular goal was to leave this room alive and with Nysqwen. In the end, I provided him with the false pretence we would prove our worth as his servants in bringing him a gift worthy of his position which seemed to please him enough that he sent us out to fetch that trophy. With a bow, Nysqwen and myself left the tower and returned to our encampment, but it was only when we were out of sight of the guards that I allowed the tremble to claim my knees and my friend had to guide me the rest of the way back. We explained to the others what we had learned and Grum gave me some of his personal hip flask to calm my nerves. For the rest of the day, we pretended to be packing our things to set out and fulfil our promise to the dragon. We did not see any of the cultists leave the tower at any point nor any traces of Reidoth. Just after dusk, the sky tinted in the reds and violets of a dying sun, a large shadow rose over the tower and Venomfang once again set out to hunt. This was our chance if we wanted to deal with the cultists and the dragon separately! Quickly we hushed to the hill where one of the fanatics stepped out when we approached to ask for our intentions. With the curling of a single finger, I ordered the door to fall shut. Nysqwen immediately pulled the man into a headlock and squeezed until he fell motionless to the ground. This one at least had managed to reach for his side sword, unlike his friends on the day before. Once inside the tower we rushed into the main chamber, but the remaining cultists were already waiting for our arrival. A white shine taking her eyes, our dragonborn friend uttered a war cry and split the skull of the nearest enemy almost in two with a single blow before she suddenly stopped mid-stride, seemingly unable to move. One of the other men yelled something in draconic and an ominous black sword materialised adjacent to Grum. He veered into the shape of a hyena and felled one more while the other cultists who also began muttering phrases, cursing when Teynos did not stop in the same manner as Nysqwen but summoning a second dark sword. One of them laid a hand on Grum from which he yelled and recoiled in massive pain and reverted to his dwarven form. These men were notably harder to kill then their henchmen and while they all showed visible signs of pain upon our onslaught, they did their best to repay us in kind. Just in time I managed to negate one’s attempt to stun Nysqwen, Grum and myself and Teynos sent the first of the priests to the ground. Soon after, Kyla and I managed to take out another while Grum in his giant toad shape and Nysqwen wrestled the last one down. Breathing heavily and bleeding from a multitude of smaller and larger wounds, we quickly looked around for any potentially hidden dangers. Our scurrying precipitously came to a halt when a loud crashing sound rang up from the village, followed by the loudest and angriest roar any of us had ever heard. The dragon had returned, likely coming across the prepared deer, and was not pleased by what he had found instead. Thunderous battering of enormous wings made clear that the beast soon would descend upon us. I just managed to support Nysqwen by magically accelerating her movements, Kyla protected Teynos with a similar enchantment as she had me earlier when I went to speak to the dragon. Then our terrible foe arrived. Ferocious with anger he crashed into the upper beams of the tower, opened his huge maw, and spit a sickly greenish ball against us. Searing pain instantly claimed every inch of my body. I was sure to have withstand the most devastating effects of his poison, but I still screamed in almost unbearable pain as it burned through my veins. When I looked up, another ball exploded amongst us, and sweet darkness relieved my mind from the soaring agony. Something was different this time. I still heard the whispers of temptation and wrath, voices filled with spite and hatred for each and everything in the world. But it seemed somewhat more distant this time. Somehow, I managed to cling to Nysqwen’s last words during our watch the night before, urging myself to fight against the waves of condemnation. And through the darkness a hand reached out to me, grabbed me by the scruff and yanked me back into the realm of consciousness. Vision returned, yet it came with the realisation that the pain had not subsided in the slightest though my mind seemed a little more sheltered against the onslaught. Kyla was bent over me, greeted me with a smile and a nod and turned back to face off again with the dragon. He was just sinking teeth as long as a hand into Nysqwen’s shoulder but her responding roar was more tinted by fury than pain. Nysqwen and Teynos covered the dragon in slashes and punches, Grum who reverted back into his own shape placed a hand on Nysqwen’s back and I could see some of the more devastating looking punctures closing as if covered by bark-like material. Black energy whirled from Kyla towards the green dragon who simultaneously spit more poison at Grum, Nysqwen and Teynos, all of which miraculously survived the attack. The massive glaive drew deep gashes through the flanks of the beast and for the first time his screeching seemed to carry a note of fear. Teynos used the created openings and plunged his fists deep into the wounds. Again and again, they battered at the opened flesh finding vital points in the dragon’s organs and with one final roar, the massive creature collapsed. It hit the ground in the same instance as Teynos, who collapsed where he stood although no obvious wounds would give away what happened to him. Kyla reached him first and determined that he was not in any mortal danger but rather seemed as if gripped by a deep slumber. What a remarkable evolution the half-orc had made to this stage. Not only had he challenged and defeated, albeit with some help, the Tanaruk of Yurtrus but he now had killed a dragon with his bare hands! A song of his achievements was overdue, and I will take care that when we next are in a tavern his deeds shall be known by the world and spread by word-of-mouth, giving rise to a new hero for the children of Neverwinter, one that for once was green of skin. For save measure, Kyla still healed the outward wounds of our friend and Grum summoned a spectral and slightly glowing toad that exuded a warm, healing energy in its own right. For the moment, we laid him on one of the intact beds and began to look through what the dragon had left behind. Grum and Kyla began removing claws, teeth, poisonous glands, scales and some of the hide from the slain beast. Meanwhile, Nysqwen and I searched through the chest. Amongst hundreds upon hundreds of coins we found five bloodstones, four further somewhat translucent gems, a handful of silver chalices with blueish moonstones, a finely ornamented hourglass and three parchment scrolls. Two of them seemed to contain some arcane symbols and were likely spell scrolls similar to ones we had found before. But neither Grum, nor Kyla nor I were able to understand their meaning. Perhaps these would be of worth to Archie, or at least the Harpers. The third contained a draconic poem that Nysqwen translated. It talked about the genesis of this world and how it was inherently tied to the creation and fate of dragons. Both exhibit mutual influence and are unable to exist without the other. It mentioned three primordial dragon gods, Tiamat, mother of chromatic dragons, Bahamut, father of metallic dragons and finally Sardior, master of the fabled gem dragons. I had heard this last name only in the odd fairy tale and never paid it much heed, this was the first more concrete evidence that in fact there was a triptych of deities. Nysqwen pulled an oblong object free of the heaps of coins that turned out to be a slightly rusted heavy battle axe. Despite the rust the craftsmanship was unmistakably immense, fine chasing was inlaid into the hilt and framed a set of dwarven runes. Grum quickly identified them as meaning “Hit Ho!”, a known dwarven wordplay amongst their warriors on the more commonly known “Hey Ho!” phrase of dwarven miners. On none of the slain cultists could we find any valuables, all they had once owned had found its way axiomatically onto the dragon’s hoard. Nysqwen carried Teynos on our way out of the tower. The last light was just fading away, silence once more returning to Thundertree. We noticed a squirrel was eyeing us from a nearby branch and I bowed in its direction in greeting. I swear I saw the rodent roll its eyes as it skittered down the tree, vanishing from sight. Then, Reidoth exited the bushes, bowing in turn and grumpily acknowledging that we were not just all talk. Seeing the condition of Teynos who had been sat on the ground by Nysqwen, he stepped over to him and laid a palm on his brow, murmuring phrases under his breath. Unexpectedly, the half-orc roared aloud, eerily similar to the dragon only minutes ago, eyes opened wide and stared at us. He began talking but somehow only the hissing language of dragon kin came over his lips! Nysqwen translated that he said he had been the dragon, had seen scenes of his life from when he hatched from his egg until he found this village and claimed it his new home. Also, he did not believe us that we could not understand him and asked why we would prank him like that after all we had just been through. Clearly, he was unaware of his own new capability. Reidoth explained, that after defeating a dragon it was not unheard of that the beast would involuntarily impart some form of gift upon their opponent. He would need to learn how to apply these new gifts first, before he would be able to fully control them. Then, Reidoth took Grum to the side while we tried to calm down our friend and explained to him our side of the situation. Nysqwen seemed especially affectionate for his condition and understandably so. Finally, she had found someone she could speak with in her own tongue. We rested through the night in Thundertree and left the ruins with a final goodbye to Reidoth to leave for Neverwinter. For the majority of the walk on that day, Teynos was a few steps behind the group, seemingly deep in meditation. In the evening he informed us of all the mushrooms he had collected along the way and that it was time for a proper supper again. And indeed, all of us could understand him this time! He was learning quickly to adapt to this new language that had been given to him. A few hours ago, we reached the walls of the city. Nysqwen had carried Venomfang’s head all this way and none of the guards at the gate asked us any questions when we entered, the sight and at least Nysqwen’s position amongst the Lords’ Alliance made certain things a lot easier. Now we are back, finally safely behind familiar walls and in proper beds. Irakin seemed not more perturbed then usually when he opened the door, so I assumed that nothing untoward had happened in our absence. Tomorrow we shall once more convene and discuss our next steps. I do not really know what path would be the right one to take, if there even was so much as the right path. All I knew is that wherever this band of adventurers decided to turn their stride, that was the path that I as well would take.

Of Pacts and Mushrooms
7th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Early in the next morning Kyla shook all of us awake. Quietly she pointed out the orc standing watch at the cave entrance, flanked by a large dire wolf. Nysqwen and Grum confirmed that the pair had already been holding lookout when it was their turn during the night. Grum added that during his watch he also heard the distant cry of what he assumed might be a wyvern, giving us further incentive to get done with our business here quickly, before unwanted eyes would pick us as their next quarry. Using the remaining shelter of the faintly shimmering dome hiding us from the watch, Kyla gathered her things together and clutching her necklace began communicating with the distant Mantka Riiba. The orc chief was none too pleased with her description of the emblem we had found painted within the cave and quickly urged us to attack without further explanation. But this did not bode well for what we could expect to find within. I could feel that the magical melody that had brought our shelter into being was about to fade out. Upon notifying the others of this, Grum leaned out of the dome just enough to manipulate the ragged terrain between us and the pair, before running out to draw their attention. The orc immediately uttered a war cry and charged at the dwarf but the wolf seemed more hesitant, sniffing the sharper looking grass wearily. With the dome’s disappearance, Kyla shot a flaming bolt at the orc who now traversed the altered area, leaving behind blood-glistening tracks. Spurred by the newfound possibilities with the tiny hut, I followed an instinct and under my breath muttered some phrases of the disgusting language that I had hoped to never hear again after our run in with Lystramon. I figured, if there was truth to the saying that words could cut deeper than swords, who knew what havoc magically imbued words of that foul tongue were to wreak upon the mind of their target. And in a much more impressive display than what would I have hoped for, the orc silently exploded in a green cloud. Unnerving memories of the last cave we confronted orcs in crept up to me, but at least this time the orc had been on their feet and with a weapon in their hand rather than bound up and defenceless. As I looked back to the cave entrance, the wolf had vanished. Carefully, we approached the familiar opening once more. The wooden barricade was back in place, and it looked like numerous wolf corpses had been stacked behind it. Someone had clearly been preparing for our inevitable return, I cannot imagine that the war cry the orc had uttered had not alarmed anyone behind these palisades. No light was to be seen from the other side, the braziers had either been extinguished or run out of fuel. Grum once more murmured something into his beard, I believe I caught the words “tall folk”, “weak wood” and “ridiculous” amidst a plethora of curses in both, the common and dwarven tongue before the familiar signs of shape shifting rippled through his form. Yet where previously he had preferred more predatory animals like bears and wolves, he now veered into a huge form with hooved legs and enormous antlers. A giant, beautiful elk snorted angrily at the barricade. Nysqwen and Teynos did not hesitate to mount the creature that promptly charged towards and then through the wooden planks barring our way. Somewhat slower, Kyla and I followed, covering the back of our friends. Teynos already was face to face with the dire wolf while moose-Grum and Nysqwen had stopped right in front of an ogre. Eight orc warriors were scattered throughout the chamber, seemingly led by what we could only surmise might have been a shaman of Gruumsh. It was a brief but merciless fight. Kyla covered some ground surrounded by her spectral raven protectors, Nysqwen left the ogre for Grum to face off with the orcs of which I tried to enthral a few to lessen the pressure on the others. Under the heavy blows of the huge ogre, Grum was pummelled out of his elk form only to quickly change again, this time into an even larger snake that wound tightly around his foe. Teynos, while bravely standing his ground against the feral beast, was torn to the ground by the razor-like teeth of the wolf yet managed to regain his footing swiftly. The voice of the priest cut through the general noise of battle, speaking demanding words at both Kyla and Grum but I had one more trick up my sleeve. By balancing out the magical reverberations of his command perfectly, I managed to counteract his attempt entirely. And as quickly as it started, it was over. The snake had grappled tightly around the ogre, just enough for Nysqwen to land a fatal blow. Kyla’s spiritual mace caved in the wolf’s skull, allowing Teynos to send two of the orcs to their afterlives. Just as he charged Kyla, Nysqwen intercepted the priest and with one fell swoop of her glaive she took his head off his shoulders. The remaining orcs posed hardly a challenge after that and were quickly defeated. After a brief period of rest following the skirmish, we continued exploring the cave. Taking the tunnel to the right of the main entrance, we entered what appeared to be a mess hall of sorts. A smell of aged meat and a recently extinguished fire permeated from the opening to the south of this room while from another exit further towards the north, the faint noises of regular impacts of steel on wood and a monotone chant could be heard. Always keeping an eye on the other tunnels, we skimmed to the southern chamber which proved to be a small kitchen. Amongst stale bread and hardly edible remains, we found a small golden bracelet, barren of any markings that would have given away a prior owner. With no sign of life apart from a few maggots feasting on rotten flesh, we shifted our attention to the eastern corridor from which the chanting seemed to emerge. A short corridor opened up into a larger chamber, second so far only to the one at the immediate entrance. From our vantage point, we were looking at the back of a large humanoid stone statue. Leaning against it sat an orc. In the flickering light it was hard to pinpoint what exactly felt so wrong about the shape. But a second glance showed the body to be covered in strange excrescences, lending it a creepily alien aura. A throaty snarl cut through the chanting that subsequently stopped. Immediately, Grum lifted his staff and bathed the body in silvery moonlight that seemed to eat away at its flesh. Nysqwen answered the snarl with a loud roar of her own, her eyes a shining white as she rushed past me to face whatever else was hiding out of sight. A huge wolf stepped into view, standing tall on stone steps deeper into the room. The malformed orc began rushing towards us. He raised his hand and suddenly all sounds faded into nothingness. Having created such places of utter silence before myself, it was not hard to piece together what he had done. Nysqwen’s glaive slashed deep into his abdomen from whence dripped a viscous liquid that had not much in common with the expected blood. A second orc joined just as Grum’s moonlight and Nysqwen finished off the first one who exploded in a cloud of greenish mist that made everyone wince that came into contact with it. Teynos joined the fray and quickly pummelled the second orc to the ground. The moment Kyla pushed through the opening she was hit by the axe of an approaching blueish-skinned orog. When I made it around the corner, I saw her clutching her eyes and a larger misshapen orc in the back of the cave who with a grin on his ugly face lowered his extremely white hands. As all of us converged on the enemies scattered throughout the cave, Kyla cried we should heed extreme caution as we were in the temple of Yurtrus, the orcish deity of sickness and maggots. I tried a far too under-utilised trick and began heating up the plate armour of one of the orcs who immediately winced in pain. Occupied by this, I got hit in the chest with a flash of green lightning and ‘ere I could stop myself that hideous language broke from my lips yet again, almost as if a second will was overwriting my own. I heard a bursting right next to me and everything went dark. Darkness. What sweet relief. A brief moment of an empty mind, silence for once. Alas, it did not last long. Violently I felt something bursting in me, a rage that had last burned so bright when faced with a being that had ascended straight from the nine hells. No visions this time around, just anger. A voice crept into my mind, sowing seeds of doubt and distrust. All good things are doomed to fail, betrayal the only constant in whatever relations one was to build. Had I not learned from the last time? Vision came back to me, yet distorted, as if see through a haze of red smoke. There was Nysqwen, her back towards me swinging her weapon. She glanced down just for a second. The haze blurred her features, yet her eyes spoke only of contempt. “You are next” they seemed to promise, underpinned by that sweet hissing voice in my mind that sneered that my so-called friends were already whispering behind my back. Only the strong deserved to live. Alone. And there was only one way to repay such treachery. Suddenly my hand rose, clasping the dagger tightly. My eyes were drawn to her exposed neck as I slowly rose to my feet. My arm lashed out. What was I doing? In a fraction of a heartbeat the smoke vanished. The voice was gone. Betrayal? I regained control over my muscles just in time to stop my hand mid-swing and let the blade clutter to the ground. Nysqwen looked at me, her eyes still a gleaming white, impossible to read what was going on behind them. I can only imagine the shock if she realised what happened in this moment through her rage. Shock at least was all I was capable of. Where had this voice come from? And this hatred… Thrice cursed blood! Thankfully, the fight still was raging on around us, leaving no time to properly reflect on what just happened. A gigantic snake that I could only imagine being Grum was winding towards one of the orcs while another felled Kyla. The latter orc was immediately taken care of by Nysqwen and Teynos who both stood protectively over the half-elven woman. Without a second look for my dagger, I quickly joined them and forced one of the reddish potions we had acquired down Kyla’s throat. Coughing she came back to her senses just as Grum crushed the priest of Yurtrus in his deadly hug. With the last of our foes slain, quiet returned to the chamber. Nysqwen did not immediately confront me about what had transpired though I am confident she shot me a few very suspicious glances. As I was in no mindset to begin the awful conversation that was destined to happen in the near future, I began observing our surroundings to determine what we had gotten into. The centre of the room was occupied by a stone sarcophagus and the large statue of a dwarf, ringed by seven further statues. The central figure stood at an anvil in a victorious pose, a smithing hammer in his hand and a finished axe on his anvil. A small set of runes identified him as Garrum Battlehammer, as Grum was able to translate. The other statues depicted two broad-shouldered dwarves in full plate armour by the name of Adrik and Ulfgar, two smiths called Rurig and Bruenor, tordek and Brottor, two miners and the jeweller Kildrak. Their carved faces displayed stern yet pleased looks, as if having accomplished a great feat. At one side of the chamber a statue of the main dwarven deity Moradin stood by an equally stone altar. The latter had been desecrated with blood that had been smeared all over. Yurtrus’s mark had been left there, potentially to repurpose the site. Teeth of a bugbear and stings of a manticor had been laid out on the stone plate. After asking Nysqwen for her hand axe, Kyla cut away the pale-white skin gloves that had covered the orc priest’s hands. With an expressionless look she carefully placed the elven skin on the altar while throwing the body heedlessly into one corner. Radiant flames flickered between her fingers as she set fire to the small pile, whispering a low prayer in the elven tongue. Although I did not understand any of her phrases, the mourning in her voice was plain. The flames began to extend from the small pile of ash that had formed and crept along every smear that defiled the dwarven sanctuary. Streaks of blood turned black and then crumbled into nothingness, leaving behind smooth stone. Yet, at one place in the slab carvings became visible. Old dwarven runes, only one of which I recognised: Father. But Grum was quick to translate: “Passed from father to son and shared between brothers. Its importance is unquestioned, though it is used more by others” A riddle! After all this strenuous adventuring, hiking and fighting, finally something for the more astute of mind. I am sure, had Archie been here he would have appreciated this unexpected turn of events. Nonetheless, it was on us to make sense of the handful of lines. And sure enough, we quickly agreed that the only viable solution here would be “A Name”. And which better name to pick than that of the displayed hero of this chamber? Grum took a firm stance in front of the altar and with a booming voice pronounced “Battlehammer”. Suddenly, the wall behind the altar vanished into the floor. Behind, we could see a dark corridor, covered in still water. This room was not on our map! We must have stumbled upon something rather important and secretive here. After collecting our nerves and looking after our wounds briefly, we entered into this new tunnel. It followed a shallow stream of water for a few paces before opening up into a small chamber. Upon us entering, fires came to life in stone braziers along the sides and framing a further statue of Moradin of dwarven make. Yet the strangest sensation was an all-encompassing calm that suddenly took hold in my mind. Where we were just fighting for our lives, running from adventure to adventure and being haunted by much deeper lingering demons, here all of that seemed to melt away. Gone were the constant worries for friends and families, pushed aside the voices that had broken through but an hour earlier and it all was replaced by a stillness as no one of us ever had known. Grum wondered aloud, what might have been the reason for this room to be as hidden as it was. These inner sanctums could be found frequently in dwarven structures, especially old ones such as these. However, usually they would be more exposed as they would be integral to many aspects of their tradition. But given the recent new occupants this might have stemmed from a time of more precaution. Indeed, the fact that the feeling of the divine was as prevalent as we experienced now probably meant that this room had not been stepped into in a long time, even measured at a dwarven life span. Closer inspection led to the discovery of a small wooden chest at the base of the statue that Grum proclaimed to be a gift by the gods and thus opened without giving it a second look. Inside, we immediately were greeted by the glimmer of a huge pile of coins on top of which was placed a leather pouch lying face down. Grum picked it up to see if anything else was inside, but his entire arm vanished in the wineskin-sized bag. Curiously, he followed with his head – and suddenly vanished from sight! The bag fell to the ground, sounding as empty as ever. Kyla reacted the quickest and upended the bag. Grum tumbled out, head over heels and gasping for air. Apparently, he had fallen into the bag that, finding out that it was much larger on the inside than the outside let on. I had heard about these fabled bags of holding before that could fit hundreds of pounds without weighing down its bearer one bit. This would come in handy for any future exploits we might be up to! What a strange place to gain aid from a god that hardly anyone of us knew. They surely worked in mysterious ways. But we certainly were not ones to take such boons for granted and thus each of us placed an item in the chest to be a light for the next lost souls in this forsaken mine. To that end, on a small piece of parchment I wrote a note: “Long and grim your journey may be Many dangers you’ve conquered, many more you will see Know ye that through darkness a light shall prevail May your foot stride on true May your quest never fail” Teynos added a few of the most treasured mushrooms he had come across, while Kyla emptied her personal coin purse. Grum, knowing what fellow dwarves would be seeking here added a side flask with some fine spirit of his own make. Nysqwen followed his example and gave a bottle of her favoured wine and for good measure threw in a jug of mayonnaise that Archie had prepared several weeks ago. To be fair, whatever was inside now most likely was far less enjoyable than mayonnaise, but it is the thought and the gesture that counts I would say. And I am sure, Nysqwen had naught but the best intentions. We took the opportunity to rest up for a bit before we faced the further dangers of the cave in the protective shadow of Moradin’s statue. Strengthened and still imbued with a supernatural prowess after this rest, we continued our march through the ancient tunnels north of the chamber with the statues. Soon, the tunnel gave way to a further cave where two orcs were being trained by an orog. Not keen on another avoidable bloody confrontation, Teynos stepped forth, holding up the head of the main priest and spoke to the warriors in their own harsh tongue. One of the orcs left through another tunnel only to return shortly after with a high priest of Gruumsh and a terribly malformed abomination. Later, Teynos would explain to us that this was a Tanaruk, an orc that had been touched by demonic magic through a pact of an orc chief with a demon lord. They were used to cement power but usually would eventually overthrow their former masters to lead through their own strength. Therefore, they mostly would be seen as last-ditch efforts of survival rather than freely given in to. They were accompanied by several orcs and also a hand full of orogs and a dire wolf. Teynos and the creature exchanged some grunts ending in the latter turning to his followers and shouting something in a terrible voice that alone was enough to chill the blood in our veins. He shoved past us towards the cave of the main entrance, sneering almost disgusted when seeing Kyla and Nysqwen. Teynos mentioned something about a duel to cement who was worthy of leaving the cave alive and signalled us to follow him to the main entrance. His bravery surely cannot be overstated, given the impression that this Tanaruk had on all of us. The idea of facing off against it in single combat seemed suicidal at best yet Teynos had not hesitated for a moment before putting himself in harm’s way, keeping us out of it in the process. Still, we could not just sit idle at the side while our friend was torn to bits! Upon arriving in the chamber of the duel, I therefore stepped forth towards the Tanaruk, calling to his honour to make the fight more fair, else he would prove nothing with this fight against a tired warrior that had been in several skirmishes already while he himself was still fresh as the morning. Not sure if such a creature could be bargained with at all, I made sure to enhance each word with a bit of magical essence, as Anataea had shown me so impressively to make the creature listen to what I had to say. It seemed to briefly contemplate just ripping my head straight off as it regarded me with the most dismissive look I have ever encountered, but it eventually agreed that Teynos could pick one ally to fight at his side. He promised that he still would wipe the floor with both of them and then feast on the rest of us for dinner. The three combatants stepped into the centre of the chamber, the orcs and us forming almost a ring around them. The priest murmured something and suddenly the braziers light dimmed. While he was occupied, I took out my lyra to underpin this duel with some fitting music but started off by rapidly plucking one of the strings, imbuing every note with magical essence. In response, Teynos movements increased drastically as he took measure of his opponent. Then, on a sign by the priest, the fight began. Teynos immediately closed the gap to the Tanaruk, staff and fists flying almost too quick for the naked eye to see. I counted five blows before the huge creature was able to retaliate even once with a savage bite towards our friend’s shoulder. Grum shifted shapes once more and started winding his way towards the fighting couple as a giant snake. Never before had I seen Teynos fight with such ferocity while at the same time dodging most of the incoming blows. This orc certainly is more than what can be seen on first glance. Even if he sometimes hits the boards almost as quickly as I do, there was no fear in taking on an opponent that initially seemed to have every advantage on his side. Stepping in between his (hopefully) friends and a threat like this is what makes this group come together so strongly and he was more than pulling his weight in this moment. Very quickly, both Teynos and his foe looked extremely beaten up, after all if he was hit, Teynos seemed to take a lot from a single blow. Were it not for his animal form, Grum might have fared a similar fate. Nysqwen, Kyla and I were exchanging excited glances in seeing the Tanaruk in such distress yet before the fight could come to an end, the figure suddenly shouted something frantic in his own language which caused the orcs and the wolf to rush in towards Grum and chop away at his body! The orogs seemed almost as phased by this as the rest of us but one of them joined in and the priest conjured a viciously glowing red spear right next to Teynos. Glancing at the orogs immediately made clear that while they did not approve of the cowardice of their leader, they would not tolerate our interference with the fight and then also join. Thus, I called out to the orcs that they should be ashamed before the eyes of their gods to take part in such spinelessness and let off of the fighting party. The orcs seemed to be not impressed by this, fear in their eyes each time they glanced at the Tanaruk. The priest on the other hand at least took pause and seemed to contemplate my words. At this moment, the malformed orc leader let out a thunderous war cry as Teynos body fell to the ground. For a fraction of a heartbeat, the fighting around them seemed to stop while our hearts plummeted through our stomachs with the realisation of what that would mean. Then, before he really could hit the floor, Teynos opened his eyes again. They were glowing almost as fiercely as Nysqwen’s when she was on the height of her combat rage as something primal awakened in the orc. He rose to his feet with a ferocious scream. Eyes wide with fear, the Tanaruk attempted to block the fist that was headed to his throat, but the hastened Teynos pushed straight through and almost beheaded the creature with this final blow. The wolf uttered a terrible wailing howl and the one orog that had joined the fight tried to close in with Teynos and finish him of in return. But before he made it all the way over, the spectral spear of the priest impaled him in his stride and killed him outright. The wolf still managed to tear down Teynos, ‘ere the rest of us could close in and slay the beast in turn. Grum had in the meantime taken care of most of the orcs. Kyla now strode over to Teynos to help him back up on his feet, her hands alight with healing energy. Teynos got back up on his feet and assumed a victorious pose. He shouted something in orcish after which the priest made his way over to him. We eased the grip on our weapon handles when the orc headbutted our friend and took a knee before him. The orogs followed suit. The priest explained that Their party had come here originally on behest of Mantka Riiba to form an outpost towards the south. Quickly however, Yurtrus had sent the Tanaruk to guide them to new glory and if a god called, who were they to question his will? They recognized now though that the Tanaruk had now failed his test and they would accept our superiority. Teynos replied that it was time for them to return to Neverwinter and search for redemption with their leader. Furthermore, they should spread the tale of Teynos the Hardly Clad and his astounding victory over the champion of Yurtrus himself. Amusingly, he completely glossed over the fact that Grum joined their combat in the first place, but we were in no place to argue against his impressive display of skill. After an initial displeased murmur, the orogs and the priest picked some provisions from the kitchen, before heading off north on the journey towards Neverwinter. In the meantime, we continued our explorations now less careful, as we were convinced, we had conquered the greatest challenge this cave would hold for us. Amongst the beddings of the former occupants, we found only scraps, but happened across a locked chest that I sat down with. My attempts on picking the lock ultimately were met with success but that came with a small poisonous arrow that I just about managed to avoid the brunt of as I had been too careless in my post-battle high. Inside, we found two of the already familiar potions of healing next to one additional flask that contained an orange liquid with some more crimson swirls. Grum had in all his research for remedies come across a huge variety of potions and knew that this particular one would give its user a fiery breath for a short amount of time. Apart from the concoctions the chest was filled with some coin, a large citril and a bone statue of a dwarf. With these findings secured in the newly found bag, we decided to take a small breather before we would explore the remainder of the cave. The next section of the cave system was barricaded by wooden palisades against something coming towards us. This did not bode well for what we might encounter as prior denizens had deemed it necessary to protect themselves against what lurks in the shadow. After following a lightless tunnel for a while, the sound of flowing water hit our ears coming from a cave that must have been to our left, if our map was correct. Indeed, turning left at the next intersection led us into a larger cave where some daylight fell through openings in the ceiling. A small stream of water gently flowed across the far side of the cavern and spilled into a pond at the southern side. Alongside its bank stood a few humongous brown-blueish mushrooms. Teynos immediately ran towards them but as soon as he touched their trunks he recoiled as if bitten by a wild animal. His hand up to the elbow had turned blue as if suffering from severe frostbite. Nysqwen quickly rushed to see if he was okay yet as soon as the torch she carried came close to the mushrooms, that upon closer inspection looked more like a complex network of mycelium than actual fruit bodies, the fungus spread towards her forcing both her and Teynos to retreat further. Grum had heard about this vicious plant called brown mold that thrived in environments where it could draw the heat from other living or dead things. Giving a wide berth to the mold, we closed in on the stream of flowing water. Getting closer, we could see a slight glow coming from within the stream. The bottom of this bed of crystal-clear water was covered with some algae or similar plant growth that emitted a green light which was reflected at several surfaces and disturbed by small waves that formed at the water surface. It was a beautiful display of nature’s brilliance and for a short while, the soft pattering of the water was the only sound to be heard. I could not help myself but had to recite a verse from a poem by the great Mo’rean Magnus, a man who truly loved his craft: “Bioluminescent cities light up Underneath a frozen sky Sing and light the austral night up Rise to scrape the ice up high” Of course, this was quite removed from its original context and not many people would be aware of the eldritch horrors that his work describes. Yet was this not what made the subject so intriguing, marrying horrid visions and ideas with romanticised beautiful descriptions? Still, I stopped myself before quoting the next lines to save my friends the images they would involuntarily conjure. After a brief moment we left the light-filled cave and ventured into darkness yet again. In a further chamber that appeared to once have served as a smithy, we came across a few giant spiders that we managed to slay without too much of an issue although Teynos, tired from his last fight was close to succumb to their onslaught for a period. Yet, with our combined efforts we pulled through and could take a look around afterwards. The centre of the cave was occupied by old anvils, coal pits and bellows, a few carts were toppled over besides their respective tracks but already quite deteriorated and seemed to have not been used in a long time. The side opposite the entrance opened into a large pit, where after a few steps everything was swallowed by absolute darkness. Along the walls some traces of more polished and reflective surfaces glimmered in the light of Nysqwen’s torch and one of the chests in the area contained more purified copper explaining what the dwarves of old had been after. Continuing our path to the next chamber, the remnants of spider webs slowly gave way to thick layers of dust and bare rock. Spread out in the chamber we were ambushed by Gricks who this time managed to pummel Teynos into unconsciousness before Nysqwen killed most of them with our help and Kyla could once more bring the half-orc back onto his feet. This chamber might once have been living quarters of workers, the chests scattered amongst the room still contained a number of personal items and stuff that made clear that the mine had not been given up by choice. Amongst all the bits and pieces we found some more coin, a few magical-looking bolts, a spell scroll that allowed to open a portal in reality itself to shift one’s position for some distance which, given the predicaments we found ourselves in frequently, might come in rather handy. Lastly, we discovered a small leather pouch with a few oddly coloured beans inside. Grum informed us that these were likely magical in essence and could be planted to grant unique effects within a short time. Some of those however could be quite detrimental so one needed to be careful with their timing and should be prepared for anything. With the entirety of the cave being explored, we gathered our thoughts to contemplate what we should do next, once more in the secret chamber at the foot of the old statue. Curiously enough, it felt far more mundane at this visit, still peaceful but less spiritual. And the chest that we had emptied and then refilled was not to be seen. Whatever ancient power slept in this site was not one for an endless stream of gifts but seemed more selective in its favours. When we had recovered a bit, we therefore continued our conversation while heading off towards Phandalin. We agreed that probing the dragon that was tormenting Thundertree was likely the best next target. All we knew so far was that green dragons were known for their cunning, mischievous lies, more planners than doers. Their intentions were unanimously ill, and their poisoned breath could kill multiple adventurers at once. Not the best forecast but then again, in our excitement of having survived this cave we figured we might stand a chance if Reidoth was willing to share some of his information as well. Then, obviously we had the offers of going to neighbouring larger cities or the underdark on behest of Lord Neverember or following Mantka Riiba’s call to be heralds of orcish peace. Finally, Nysqwen had for the first time in many years heard anything about the whereabouts of her brother from the black spider and was understandably excited to pursue these traces. Personally, I still was no closer to finding out anything about Camp and the others, maybe the thing with the underdark had anything to do with their disappearance? We spent last night in the safety that now was found in the dome that I was able to conjure up with the same soft melody, albeit one I still am aiming to refine. It seems… not quite finished yet. A few hours ago, we reached Phandalin and told our stories in the Stonehill Inn much to the entertainment of him, his wife and a good number of patrons that had come together, apparently the town was becoming more and more alive with the rediscovery of Gundren’s mine. Amidst all the merriment, Nysqwen asked me to show the audience my little party trick, “the one with the black eyes”. Startled, I denied the request, pretending I did not know what she meant and ensuring to the surrounding people that sometimes she could get some strange ideas with a sufficient amount of alcohol infusion. Yet now that I am sitting here on the roof of the tavern under the starlit sky it still haunts me. I saw the flash of incomprehension and slight justified anger at my rudeness in her eyes even if like a true proof of character she let it be and did not push further. I must tell her. Her at least, she deserves not this cold armour I have clad myself in.

Towards Unknown Caves
5th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Upon our return from Mantka Riiba’s camp we had picked up provisions, ropes, torches and other bits and pieces we would require for our journey south before bedding down for the night. I had spent the rest of the evening reunited with Anataea and although few words were spoken the music we created between the two of us was all-encompassing, eternal and reminiscent of days past. Deep like our friendship, high like the stakes we had faced together, vast like the network built and longing for all the lives missed. Not long after dawn on the next morning, I met with my friends at the southern gate to head towards Phandalin. However, while all of us were carrying our respective loads, Archie appeared without any pack or gear. As much as it visibly tore him apart to say, he explained he would have to help his master in the shop for the next few weeks. Orsik was stunned by the intricate design Archie had come up with for Ori and Voithos and proudly wanted to teach the young man further techniques to bring his new-found companions to perfection. He just bade us to bring some more of the star-gold he had found in the lost mine which he would need for some parts of his machinery. Leaving him behind pained us just as much, if not more, than the boy himself. He had grown very fond to all of us, socially awkward as he may be. His brilliant mind, nimble hands and daring inventions had contributed massively to all we had accomplished thus far. But even stripped of all his abilities, Archie was just one of the most likable humans I have ever met. His quirks just added to a fine character, someone who cared deeply for his friends once he had the courage to make them. Nysqwen especially, who had been somewhat like an older sister to him was clearly hesitant to leave without him. But unfortunately, we did not have all the time in the world to complete our businesses with the expectations of the Neverwinterian council now lying heavy on our shoulders. And it would certainly not be the end of our friendship, nor our companionship. Once he was free again, laid aside the burdens that held him in their grip, we would welcome him in our midst with open arms and tears of joy. When we turned around on a hill almost two miles out of the city, I believed to catch a glimpse of a small figure and a metal contraption standing on the city wall and keeping watch. Our travels were unhindered, the weather that of a nice, not too warm summer day. It was a relief to see more people back on the road, trade and travel were picking up again after the dark days of the rat plague. The smell of the sea drifted on light breezes inland, rustling through the trees lining the High Road. Time flew as Grum entertained us with circumlocutory stories of his youth and adventures with the stone seeker brothers. Towards the evening we stopped off at the familiar farm of Bor and his family who welcomed us warmly and provided food and lodging for the night. With the first light of the next day, we were on the road again, off to another uneventful day of travels this time more filled with music to spare Teynos the headaches when Grum’s stories eventually became more and more convoluted and close to dusk we finally reached Phandalin. Entering Stonehill Inn, a wave of joyful cheers led by Toblen branded over us. Our actions had not been forgotten and the townsfolk were eager to hear what had been going on in Neverwinter and if the horror indeed had passed. Until late in the night we shared stories, food and drink with the people, until only few remained as work would not pause on the next morning. Despite the late hour the door opened once more. Townmaster Harbin looked just as stressed as last we saw him, the man seemed constantly at unease. But when behind him Halia Thornton entered the room, all cheerful banter amongst ourselves came to an equally restless silence. The woman brushed Harbin to the side, fury in her eyes as she asked us to explain ourselves. It had come to her attention that while she was out of town we had sniffed around in the basement of her Miner’s Exchange and to top it off had broken into her home. I did my best to keep my voice steady when I responded that everything we had done had been sanctioned by the law with Harbin as its representative. The escape of a certain criminal had led to our investigations rather than ill will. Fuming, Halia slowly turned towards the townmaster who wide eyed looked at me, his face white as bed linen. He murmured something like he had something urgent to attend to, striding quickly out the door. With one final glance at us, Halia followed behind the man into the night. Fearing for the man’s life, we followed and found him pinned to a wall by Halia as she hissed something at him. As we approached, she said that the last word in this matter had not been spoken and began to leave. Instilling my words with a few fine strands of Mystra’s gift I asked her what in the nine hells she thought had been going on. Mid-step she stopped and over her shoulder answered that framing her for the escape of a prisoner was not a smart idea on our parts. Then she continued marching towards her home. Kyla shouted if she would remember our last conversation on the High Road or if that had not been her in the first place but if she heard her, she did not react and just vanished in the dark. Harbin had barricaded himself in his house by now and through the door exclaimed he would not want to speak with us. When we mentioned, it might not be the best idea to hide alone in his house with someone as raging and as dangerous as Halia Thornton around, upon which he opened the door just enough so he could poke his head out to explain what had been going on. He said that Halia had approached him and claimed we would intend to frame her for the escape and broke into her home in her absence. He was too scared of her to object to that despite what he already knew about the incident, thus the escalation this evening. As nothing would be resolved this night, we decided to bed down in our rooms, holding watch through the night and speaking with Halia on the next day. Perhaps Kyla could provide her divine power to have a truthful conversation with one another. Fortunately, no further disruptions occurred during the night. Grum and I would head towards the Miner’s Exchange to see what Halia had to say with a bit of a breather after yesterday. The others would in the meantime restock so that we could continue our travels on the same day. Kyla laid her hand upon my shoulder just before we left, searching for my gaze, and wished me the Queens luck with our negotiations. A strange, alien and somewhat cold, yet comforting clarity overcame me. A silent promise that my tongue should have a hard time betraying me during our conversation, a gift from the goddess I hardly knew anything about. Giving her a thankful nod and smile, reverting my eyes for a split second to their real appearance, we headed out to meet with the guildmaster. The Exchange was mostly empty, the prospectors likely off to their individual claims fuelled by the spark of fresh energy that the rediscovery of the lost mine had caused. We found Halia Thornton behind the desk in her private office where she greeted us with little excitement in her voice. To the best of our abilities, we explained our version of the story, from the mysterious vanishing of the black spider all the way to the pieces of evidence we had found back then. However, recognizing that certain elements did not add up, we apologized for our intrusion and our accusations. She in turn renewed her explanation of her view of things but seemed more receptive to our explanations today. She seemed to understand that our actions had not been directed against her personally and surely, she could see that following all leads available at the time we were misled into believing she was involved with the escape. We came to the agreement that while a certain mistrust had been built up on both sides, we were not enemies in this matter and might benefit from working alongside each other, potentially collaborating in the future where it would hold merit to both sides. It was certainly a benefit in this conversation to be physically unable to sweat profusely and I only allowed the shaking in my hands to set in once the door of the Exchange closed behind our exit. With this matter settled for the time being, we finally were ready to continue our journey into the mountains south of the village. Our first day of travel proved to be unobstructed, Grum’s affinity to the mountains paid off as he took over the role of leading us towards their feet through patches of lush forests and fields of rubble barring any vegetation. As dusk was approaching, he found for us a small crevice between two protruding rock slants where we erected our tents and kindled a small fire. With how good of a pace, we had made this day, we could be almost sure to reach our destination on the morrow. Thus, we bedded down quickly, all of us eager to see what this mapped cave would hold. It was in the middle of the night that Kyla and Teynos suddenly shook us all awake. A strange rumbling and grinding sound grew slowly louder. At first, it was hard to place where it was coming from and when we figured it out it was almost too late: With a thunderous crack the ground behind us exploded and from the dust emerged a large beast, covered in thick, armour-like plates of grey material. A long snout ended in a gigantic maw with grinding, square teeth. The creature stood on its hind legs, its front limbs that ended in large shovel-like claws in the air. Kyla immediately summoned her spiritual mace while Teynos sprinted forward, fists flying and hitting audibly without seeming to impress the creature much. Instead, far nimbler than should be possible, it jumped high in the air and landed right where Grum, Nysqwen and I just scrambled to our feet, knocking us right back down again. Spurring my friends with what air I had left in my lungs, I ran back as fast as I could, out of reach of the raging beast. In the meantime, Grum had assumed the form of a large cave bear and began together with Nysqwen, eyes flaring white with rage, Teynos and Kyla’s mace to wail on our foe. Our initial shock was quickly overcome and within few heartbeats and without suffering too severe wounds, we subdued the creature. Still out of breath, Nysqwen panted that this was a bulette, a massive predator that occasionally would roam mountain regions and terrorise any farmers that dared herding their flock there. However, while ferocious and hearty beasts, they usually hunted alone, giving us some reassurance that this might be the only specimen in the immediate vicinity. Together with Grum, she removed the incredibly heavy body from our campsite, while I did my best to clean our sleeping bags and supplies from the viscous dark blood and entrails of the bulette. The rest of the night passed by without further disturbances. Today brought us all the way to the cave. Around noon we faced an almost vertical cliff face, yet the obstacle was swiftly dealt with as Grum turned into a giant spider and brought up our ropes that we had combined to reach the full height, allowing us an easy ascend. All the times taking the air way back in Neverwinter paid off as not only was scaling the wall almost second nature, but Teynos and I also worked out a path that would be easier for Kyla in her heavy armour and Nysqwen who felt more secure on the shaking planks of a ship deck than in a mountain. On top of the plateau, we took a brief rest and a hearty meal, the mountains now standing high above us. The landscape had more individual trees and bushes, loose rubble, and larger boulders. The prior sounds of a living forest, creaking wood, singing birds, and roaring deer were substituted with the howling of gushes of wind, cries of eagles and the occasional faint low rumble or growl. A little while later saw us facing the mountain side. Multiple dark cave entrances pestered the stone, some more natural looking than others. Grum pointed towards one that was almost perfectly round and whispered that these might either be dug from larger bulettes or perhaps gigantic worms that were said to tunnel through the mountains of this region. It took us a bit of careful search but eventually we found an entrance that matched the one we could see on our map. Without knowing what would await us inside, we carefully approached the opening. Soon we could see flickering light emerging from within proving that we were neither the first to come here nor the only ones alive. Edging slightly further, we could make out muffled voices speaking in a tongue just one of us was able to understand yet we all had heard plenty in the recent past – orcish. This could mean either that we had found Mantka’s lost contingent or some wildly roaming orcs. And even in the first case, we would not know whether they were with us or against us. On the off chance that fighting was avoidable however, Teynos strode up to a wooden barricade blocking the entrance and addressed the occupants in their language. We had hardly time to catch up with him as the first arrows came flying. Teynos was the first to overcome the barricade, storming towards the waiting orcs and wolves, followed by Nysqwen and Grum. Kyla and I kept further to the back with the cleric summoning her mystic mace once more to wail on the greenskins. By now I had gotten more familiar with using the illusions usually used to entertain an audience and delight or scare children to slow down our enemies, creating patterns that would hypnotise them for brief periods or confuse them enough to allow my friends a breather or an opportune strike. Grum quickly turned into his bear shape again, biting and clawing at the orcs surrounding him while Nysqwen dealt heavy blows in all directions. Teynos used his fast reflexes and nimbleness to almost appear everywhere at once, punching a chin here, kicking a groin there. Kyla sent a brief prayer to her goddess and spectral black feathers engulfed several orcs, making their movements sluggish and their hits less precise. The she closed in, grinning as she laid her hands on the first orc that just was fighting off Grum’s overwhelming strength and under her touch his body withered until only dry bones remained. Nysqwen’s eyes seemed to be the counterbalance to my own. A slight white glow emanated from her sockets, a scaled avenger whirling her polearm with greater mastery each day. Many cuts and arrows rained in on her, yet she shrugged them all off and slew orc after orc until there were none standing anymore. Occasionally, I would manage to see a connecting hit of the orcs just in time to irritate them enough to miss their intended target. One by one the orcs fell. With the last drop of blood spilled, silence returned and the glow from Nysqwen’s eyes receded. We now stood at the entrance of a large room, lit by several braziers. In each corner on the opposite wall a tunnel continued deeper into the mountain. A quick search revealed that the orcs only had a few coins on themselves and ‘ere we could look any further, we heard a voice, much deeper and louder than that of an orc emerging from one of the tunnels. We were not in the shape to take on another battle so soon after and thus retreated from the cave to find a spot not too far from the entrance to take care of our wounds. Following an intuition, I took out Rattlepike’s old Lyra and began to play the soft harmonies that I knew could soothe the soul and aid in the recovery from strenuous activities. But a new motif emerged from the familiar pattern. It was barely there at first yet demanded more and more room for itself as it grew. Was it still I that was playing? Or merely a vessel to pluck the right strings at the right times? The new melody promised safety, it was nothing adventurous, just here to stay and accompany what other voices might be played. And after a while I could almost feel the music extending around me, filling the space around our camp site. Safety. Comfort in uncomfortable places. Home. This was what I, and I believe many of the others as well, had found in this colourful group of friends and that was what now was evolving the melodies. Even when I laid the instrument to the side and looked up, the melody was still there. Wherever you might be, Camp, you would have liked this. Very faintly yet it had created a new phenomenon. An almost invisible barrier surrounded us, sheltered us from prying eyes or intruders of any kind. This was a place of rest. Once we had gathered enough strength to potentially deal with another threat, we left the comforting interior of the dome, which vanished as soon as I left it confines. Grum grabbed some dirt and drew lines over our faces once more, gathering the surrounding shadows to cloak us from unwanted attention. The carcasses of our last battle had been moved, the wolves to the left tunnel and the orcs towards the right entrance. A closer inspection revealed a rough painting on the back wall of the cave: very similar to the symbol of the Many-Arrow tribe, the emblem of the tribe that called this cave home. However, the usually black skull pierced by three arrows in this depiction was bloodred. Whatever that meant. Was it a deliberate mocking of the crest? A homage? Did the artist simply run out of colour? Kyla wanted to make sure that we knew what we were dealing with. If we would give it a night’s rest, she might be able to contact Mantka on the morrow to ask whether these were her people who we should either leave be or make contact with or if they posed a danger that should be stopped in its tracks. A very sensible suggestion, hence why we left the cave once more. We went a little further away from the entry, finding a spot that would still allow us to keep an eye on it for any movement during the night. Gladly, I gave myself to the music once more to recreate the protecting dome that should also hide us from any scouts that might be sent during the night. Thus, we are now bundled up on the inside, no need for tents with the star-studded sky above. Nysqwen has taken first watch, leaning against a fallen tree, and staring into the night. I hope sleep will find me fast. Creating a home, truly. I know, everything is make-belief; yet should there be deception in friendship? Or was this bond as well not what it seemed? But it remains so inconceivably hard…

How to Civilise an Orc Tribe
1st of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Upon our return we were greeted by Irakin and Anataea who sat in the common room over a cup of wine, clearly relieved by the return of peace to the city. For the second time this day we recited what had happened in the past night. It will never cease to amaze me how good of a listener Anataea is, and our halfling companion had learned his fair share of this trait as well. Thus, weaving a tale came easily and time flew faster than first thought. After finishing, I asked if the food shortage would be solved now with the city reopening which Irakin confirmed and explained that they had to redispose and turn to other means of procurement for the past few days. Anataea chimed in that her friend Birel had helped out in this regard as well. This was the first time, she called the mysterious drow woman by name and Kyla promptly used it to hook into the conversation and ask more about the underdark, especially now that we would potentially travel to this place. My foster mother admitted she would not know terribly much about this, Birel might be of more use there and should be back in the next few days if we chose to speak to her directly. Still, she explained that the drow typically lived in a tyrannic, strictly ordered, maternal society under the constant gaze of Lolth. Their lives often were marked by numerous hardships, intrigues, or even cold-blooded murder. Yet if one decided to leave this community, there was no return. However, drow of a good or neutral alignment do exist, just as any other race has a mixed bag of individuals and intentions. The underdark itself was an entire biome in its own right with many alien-seeming creatures and monsters, some mindless some of intimidating intelligence. The only vegetation one would frequently find there would be mushrooms, due to the absence of light in the tunnels and chambers. This topic sparked Teynos’s interest in particular. The half-orc had before already appeared quite fond of fungi of any variety and the notion of discovering new, potentially edible species seemed to fill him with excitement. Kyla said she had learned a bit about the drow pantheon before and while Lolth was the most widely known, they had further deities, most of them as nefarious as their leader. Yet, she always had been most fascinated by er daughter Eilistraee, The Dark Maiden, as she was said to be the only “good” amongst the Dark Seldarine pantheon. Now we knew who we might turn to for information on this underground realm. And while I was burning to learn how Anataea had met this Birel, the look and apologetic smile she threw me told me she was not going to tell me this particular evening. And thus, soon enough all of us bedded down for the night. We were woken by the sounds of playing kids all throughout the house the next morning, who joined us also for breakfast. When we had a few moments for ourselves, Kyla began counting the reward Lord Neverember had gifted us and came to an astounding sum, causing us to decide to first go shopping for some artifacts that might aid us in the battles to come, ‘ere we would go ahead with our plan of visiting the orc camp in the northeast quarter of the city. And for some reason, during breakfast Nysqwen decided to name our walking cauldron Bert. Grum spearheaded our way to the Protector’s Enclave. He led us past the faction houses towards a small shop, sat on the main road with a sign that read “Ironbell’s Illustrious Items”. Inside, he introduced us to Yonove Ironbell, the gnomish owner of the shop who he used to have business with when pursuing help for Quercus. The woman turned out to be rather talkative, yet instantly likable. While she apparently was not blessed with the highest insight (she initially tried to convince Archie to buy a heavy axe), she knew very well what wares she had to offer and how useful these could be in a pinch. Once Archie showed her his own inventions, her saleswoman-attitude turned over curiosity to an almost childlike joy over the strange mechanisms and she instantly offered to buy Ori from him. Slightly saddened by the young man’s determination not to sell his friend, she turned back to the rest of us to help us with whatever we might require. The most pressing matter was Teynos’s repeated knockouts in our last encounters, as Kyla insisted, and thus the shopkeeper produced a set of finely crafted bracers that he told the half-orc to fit to his wrists. The pieces were almost closer in appearance to some fine adornments of noble attire than armour, so thin and brandished were the hammered golden pieces. He followed suit and I swear by the never-ending song of Oghma that the metal bands grew taut against his wrists, almost locking themselves in place. Still, Teynos lazily shook his forearms complaining they would be too loose and that he was always uncomfortable putting on more garments than was absolutely necessary. A flash of silver cut through the air and with a bright ringing sound, a small throwing blade bounced off from the bracers on our friend’s unnaturally quickly risen forearms. Mistress Ironbell lowered the hand that had thrown the projectile with a mischievous grin on her lips, asking if Teynos had any further reservations towards her wares. He just silently shook his head, eyeing the bracers with new-found appreciation. After this was settled, we continued to purchase a golden headband for my old dwarven companion that would help keep his mind sharp at any given time and a periapt with a large red gem inlaid into finely forged golden hands for Kyla, to avoid her falling in battle as easily as she was key to helping us survive any strenuous encounters. With all of these purchases, mistress Ironbell granted us a discount on the wares tied to the promise to return to her shop in time. Still, gearing up in this way took all the money we had been rewarded for taking out Lystramon. But it definitely felt like money well spent! Leaving the shop, Archie and I went to the Harpers house, as we still had to hand in a book about devils and how to summon them, while the others went back to Merreck Proudfoot to stock up on potions of healing. Nissa seemed very pleased with how things had turned out and even more so as we handed her our find. Again, I might be imagining things but was there a hint of pride on her face? She told us that we were on a good way to rise to the rank of Harpshadow, if we continued our service to the faction in such a fashion, which would come with its own merits. However, shortly after we exchanged our respective perspectives on the past few days, we bade our leave to meet up with the others at the northern end of the Enclave to head towards the camp of the Many-Arrows tribe. While I had visited this part of the city before, mostly in the context of dealings of Cor or over the sky path, the streets north of Neverwinter River were less familiar to me than their southern brethren. While after the Ruining most of the former Blacklake district was mostly ruined, certain survivors had established themselves in the ruins and defied the rule of the Lord Protector openly, making for often violent incursions. Maybe because of these very instabilities, some excursions had led my path into some of its reaches. However, since the arrival of the orcs no Neverwinterian had entered the district and returned to tell the tale. Who knew what would await us in the occupied area? From far down the road, we could already see the roughly assembled wooden barricade marking the entrance. The surrounding walls had painted on them the symbol of the tribe, an encircled skull pierced from the bottom by three arrows, all mostly painted in red and brownish colours. ‘Ere we reached the barricade, a loud shout came from the other side and an unusually large orc with dark, blueish skin approached, climbing over the defences. Teynos murmured that this variant of orcs called orogs was rumoured to be more intelligent than their green siblings and tend to be in leading or otherwise prominent positions within the tribe. During his approach, the orc was directly addressing Teynos in the guttural orc tongue, yet as he had no weapon drawn, we were not too concerned, especially as we were here with Mantka Riiba’s blessing. They conversed briefly, after which the stranger turned and clambered back across the wooden slates. Teynos followed suit and signed us to do the same. Just as I crested it, I saw the large orc facing our friend and suddenly punching him square in the chest! Teynos almost stumbled a step backwards but before any of us could draw weapons, the orc just stood there, visibly presenting his chest. He apparently awaited Teynos returning the favour which, without much hesitation, he seemed almost too eager to do. The other just gave a brief, satisfied nod, then he continued to lead us further into the camp. Most of the buildings lining the streets here were mere ruins, crumbled when Mount Hotenow erupted thirty summers ago. In their place numerous tents had been erected around which many orcs but also a few ogres and slightly smaller figures as well as kobolds and lizard folk were gathered and stared blatantly in our direction upon noticing us. Most of them were aimed at Kyla, the tensions between orcs and elves were well known, but many also were for Grum and Archie. For once, Nysqwen and myself were hardly regarded and Teynos seemed to fit right in. The smell of burned hair and roasting meat hung heavy in the air as the corpses of giant rats turned on wooden spikes over dozens of campfires. Within the camp, the remnants of the walls were covered in runes written in a similar dark red colour. Grum identified the used alphabet as dwarven although the language was alien to him. Teynos murmured that most of the scripture was related to Gruumsh, the main deity of the orcs. Towards the centre of the district, we came onto a larger, more cleared square. Merchant tents, food stands, and various carts were strewn over the area in an unordered mess that bared any structure and equally tumultuous noise filled the air. It smelled like burned fur, cooked meats and onions and wet earth. Not a bad combination by any means, especially as far as cities were concerned. The shops here offered all kinds of weapons, armour, food, cloth and everyday accessories, very akin to what one would expect to find in the more “civilised” parts of Neverwinter, only rougher around the edges. And of course, the previously mentioned looks continued to follow us everywhere. Our guide headed straight across the square towards a larger building that looked like a small fortress within the city, built on the foundations of several former houses. From the battlements dangled marred, severed heads, some seemingly days if not weeks old and picked clean by birds and insects, others still dripping blood. Kyla’s gaze turned expressionless. Every single head was of elven descend. This would remove the last of our doubts as to what the intentions behind the looks we received were. The ongoing feud between orcs and elves was well known and at the heart of many tales and songs. Yet to see it displayed in such a gruesome, tangible fashion and tasting the electric tension in the air was almost unbearable. We quickened our pace to head inside, hopefully out of view of the tokens. The entrance was barred by an iron gate and guarded by two orogs in the same armour as the bodyguards, Mantka had brought to the council meeting. They opened upon recognising our guide, allowing us to step inside. We were led into a large room, its floor draped with various pelts and its walls with weapons and hunting trophies. Across the room was another door, flanked, same as the door through which we had entered, by two guards. In the centre was a slight recession with a fire pit, its flames lighting up the room. Shortly after our arrival, the door on the opposite side opened an in strode Mantka Riiba, clad in the same outfit as on the previous day and accompanied by one of the two orogs that were with her before. She gestured us to take seats with her around the central fire and welcomed us in Grommash Hold. With an almost apologetic nod to Kyla and Grum, she explained that most of her followers were not used to seeing what they would call pointy ears or midgets. There is not much love lost between their races, dating back as long as memory on each side holds. And cleaning up with prejudices, while desired by her, is a long, arduous road away. And orcs as well are more than mere pillaging and incendiary savages. She intends to establish orcs and their allies as functioning parts of Fearûnian society, starting along the Sword Coast in Neverwinter, her appearance in the council the other day being not only proof of at least that part of her aims but also of the progress she had already made. Well knowing all the difficulties that would arise on both sides, with deep seeded despise she said she was aware that not everyone, also not every orc would welcome such a change. But there would always have to be sacrifices to guarantee progress. At this point, Kyla interjected that she was faced with such prejudices for the first time in this city as where she had grown up, such things were not part of society. She described her home as a place where anyone, regardless of their racial origin was welcome and there was no strife between age-old factions. In response, the same expression of envy mixed with doubts as to the totality of her statement appeared on all our faces. While there were many humanoid races present in Neverwinter, it would be a blatant lie that not every single one was thinking themselves as being superior to the others. After all, obscuring the depth of the heritage of certain individuals has almost become second nature to said folk… The orc leader replied that, if possible, she wanted to build towards a world closer to this ideal and asked if she might count on us to help in this endeavour. There would be plenty of convincing necessary on both sides, diplomats carrying the word into neighbouring cities or hired hands trying to keep marauding hordes in cheque. In response to what would make her trust us with such missions she said that after what we had done for the city, she was confident we would put the greater good before all else and that clearly, we would see that bringing an end to the constant battles with orcs would go a long way in achieving that. Plus, with a long look at Teynos, she said that we had a great hero among us. An interesting proposal. Something tells me that what Mantka said was nothing but the truth although it probably merely revealed a fraction of her true intentions. There was something else brewing and I cannot discern yet if the smell is to my liking. We thanked her for this offer, promising that we would consider working together to achieve what today only sounds like a dream. But we also explained that first we would have to settle some of our own affairs. She nodded satisfied and added that if we would come by Phandalin, there was a splinter group of her tribe that she had not heard of in a while. And its allegiances were uncertain. With this she bade us farewell, as she had other matters to attend to. However, pointing towards the orog bodyguard we had seen twice now, she offered her brother Tarosh as a guide through her city district. And, should we eventually choose to take her up on the offer of working together, she would appoint one of her own to travel with us to act as her voice. From the flame-lit interior we stepped back out onto the noisy, sunny square. Hundreds of alien impressions attacking all senses simultaneously drowned out any thoughts or discussions we might share with regards to what had just been bestowed upon us, although I could see the same contemplation on my friends faces that I felt myself. Tarosh immediately began his tour by pointing out that we just exited Grommash Hold, the seat of power for the Many-Arrows tribe and home to Mantka Riiba. He proclaimed he would show us around the streets by following the most important temples and other constructs in their district, which would keep us out of any too-narrow alleys where the odd stares, Kyla, Grum and Archie were getting might give way to regrettable actions. First on our way were the wrestling pits of Gruumsh, four dugout circles, each a good twenty paces across. Fighting was open to anyone and one of the few ways how outsiders might gain some respect quickly amongst the orcs, if one fought with honour and was victorious. Tarosh pointed out a priest of the primary diety who was watching over some lists. The orc had an eyepatch over his left eye. All priests to Gruumsh were expected to undergo this mutilation to honour their one-eyed god. Fittingly, in the large stone building next to the pits were the barracks of Ilneval, Gruumsh’s strategist, where the elite amongst the warriors were trained. With these words, Tarosh proudly banged his fist against his own chest, the dull sound bearing witness to the amount of muscle that the warrior had built up around his lungs. Leaving the martial facilities behind, the orc now led us towards four connected tents. Its linen walls were decorated with craftly paintings of cave bears in a variety of poses, some intimidating, some more peaceful. The all-encompassing noise was slightly less intense in this part of the camp. A single female orc left the structure just as we arrived and reaped a respectful bow from Tarosh. She was clad in what seemed like earthen-coloured functional robes and wore metal claws on her fingers – the only weapon visible on her body. Our guide explained that this was the temple of Luthic, mate to Gruumsh, patron of all orc women, goddess of fertility and healing. As ferocious as her favoured animal yet cunning and benevolent to those that fought in war and suffered wounds in honour. Her priestesses were responsible for the survival of the clan and therefore enjoyed great reverence from the horde. However, their temper was as fabled as their healing powers so one should think thrice before crossing them or theirs. Not far from the tent structure, Tarosh called our attention to a partially collapsed stone building with barred windows. The immediate vicinity was barren with hardly an orc to see. Here was the temple of Yurtrus, Lord of Maggots and god of sickness, disease and death. The orc spoke in hushed tones here, explaining that the white-hands, priests to Yurtrus cut out their tongues to honour the silent nature of this deity. One such priest stood out front, his hands dressed in white eponymous gloves that showed strange wrinkles and shifting complexions. Tarosh elaborated that these gloves were made from the skins of other humanoids, predominantly elves. The sickness these followers represented was wit plainly on Kyla’s face, general unease taking us all, urging us forward to the next point of interest. Again, Tarosh led us to a stone building, this one even further collapsed than the last. Disdainfully he quickly explained that this temple was consectrated to Shargaas, the Stalker Below, god of darkness, stealth and cold. He resembled fear of the unknown and the dangers that lurked in shadows. According to our guide, he was there for weaklings, lone-wolfs and good-for-nothings. Orcs that took pride in their strength and ferocity as it was gifted from Gruumsh should do their best to shun those that dealt with Shargaas, although he had his steady seat in their pantheon. As I glanced over the rubble that marked the temple of the Night Lord, I noticed a trap door beneath some wreckage, hidden for the unmindful eye but plainly obvious for those that dealt in the shadows on occasion. There might be more to it that Tarosh was willing to say or even knew and it intrigued me. One day I might have to visit this place and see what webs were spun beneath the orcish civilisation. Finally, we came upon a large field with a small stone structure in the easternmost parts of the district, right below the Cloak Tower. Dozens of aurochs were grazing on the field. Our guide explained that this temple was dedicated to Bahgtru, son of Gruumsh and Luthic and god of pure, physical strength. One day the god required a mount that would match his ferocity, thus he ventured forth to find an aurochs that he tamed with his bare hands and named Kazaht - creatively the orcish word for bull, as Teynos later explained. His strength and unbending nature were coveted by nearly all orcs and he therefore was revered by most common people. The aurochs were sacred animals that would be trained by the orcs to serve as mounts in battle and were treated with the same respect that an accomplished warrior would. All throughout our tour, the same challenging glances greeted Kyla, Grum and Archie, while those that had heard of our deeds met Teynos with open respect and greetings. For once, no one really paid any attention to Nysqwen or myself and I greatly enjoyed the newfound indifference. Generally, life here seemed to take place far more under the open sky, tents or hovels only served for sleep or to escape the piercing sun. We thanked Tarosh for all his efforts and said our goodbyes to head back into the more familiar parts of the city. Tarosh faced Teynos and out of the blue gave him a deftly headbutt straight to the face. Without any hesitation, Teynos replied in kind. A sickening crack signified a likely breaking of the orog’s nose and dark blood splattered over our friend’s forehead. Tarosh staggered briefly, then caught himself and laughed aloud. After meeting Teynos’ gaze for a few seconds, he grinned, turned around and headed back to Grommash Hold.

A Devil and Repercussions
Midsummer, 1481 DR

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.

The Ritual
Midsummer, 1481 DR

Our explorations were abruptly cut short as a familiar haunting, yet alluring melody trailed down a nearby well shaft. The moisture of recent rainfall made our ascend on the slippery stones painfully slow to the point of the music seemingly having faded already as we crested the rim. Luckily, Grum’s ears proved to be more sensitive. He was certain to hear the flute continue further to the north and gestured us to silently follow him. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, turned to us and too quick for us to stop him drew a line across all our faces with a handful of ash. Just as we wanted to protest, the shadows appeared to gather around us and where we stepped through the soft mud, no footprints were to be seen. Thus hidden, we followed the dwarf’s lead. After some time of hushing through the streets we ended up in a small alley lined by half-crumpled buildings. In the shadows at its end stood a figure. Upon finishing a silent prayer, surprise caused Kyla to sharply inhale as she gestured us forward. As we got closer, we could see a humanoid face that narrowed to a rat’s snout peeking from under the hood, yet it stood perfectly still while the music continued. We approached and saw what appeared to be a straw puppet shaped like the flutist and clad in filthy rags, not unlike a scarecrow. In the pockets of its rugged coat, we found a small stone that just as Archie’s contraption emitted some form of recording of the enchanting melody that haunted Neverwinter these past couple of nights. In a flash of frustration, Kyla set the straw body on fire, just as I saw in the corner of my eye the shadow of a large black rat darting from the mouth of the alley. We rushed out of the side street, following the huge rodent further north through the disorienting, winding paths of the chasm district. Fewer and fewer sounds were audible around us the further we got from the wall as the still populated areas dwindled and the buildings became increasingly more crumpled. We had almost caught up as we turned a corner into a long-abandoned ruin and suddenly were faced with hundreds upon hundreds of rats of different sizes. The mutated rat turned to face us. The shadows in the area almost made her snout look like it curled into a devilish grin as a voice rang through my head: “You look just like the mistress… She will call upon you when the time comes!” And the rodent vanished from sight. Faced with the horde, shocked by their sheer numbers, there was no other option than hasted retreat. I tried my best to lead our sprint due east, away from the more populated outskirts of the city to not endanger its denizens even further. The sudden shift in pace after a long day of wandering through sewers was a little much for Archie and Grum as they started to lag behind the group slightly. But without hesitation, Nysqwen in her protective instincts slowed down enough to catch up with them and spurred them to new athletic heights. A few minutes and many, many turned corners later, the squeaking subsided as it seemed we had outrun the rat swarm. Looking around, we found ourselves in the north-eastern part of the chasm district, not far from the river. None of the houses around us were intact anymore, their original inhabitants long gone if they had been lucky enough to get away. This district had always been the home of the less fortunate people of Neverwinter, simple workers and traders who were hit by the opening of the rift with no chance of defence. The char marks on the rubble around us were telling the tragic story of hundreds that had died within hours of the calamity. Amidst this desolation we now caught our breath while ducking under a half-collapsed roof and my mind was racing. Who was this ‘mistress’? If she looked like me… but that made no sense! Surely, I would have known about such a thing. And it sounded as if she would be waiting for something. How does this tie in to Lystramon? With a nervous chuckle and although I already knew the answer to the question, I asked my friends whether they had heard a similar voice speaking to them when we ran into the ambush. Surprised they shook their heads and I relayed to them that apparently there was a mistress somewhere in the shape of a tiefling. Kyla threw me a strange glance upon this revelation, while the others wondered whether this was someone taking this shape to play upon the natural fears of the population, or if indeed someone of my race had given in to his bloodline. Of course, it was not far-fetched that pacts with demons would involve someone more familiar with them, potentially being able to speak their language. But none of the other signs we had found thus far had pointed to a tiefling pulling the strings in the background, just these strange rat-humans. We began walking in a southern ark to get back to the Protector’s enclave and to prevent further unwanted encounters. Perhaps it might be useful to speak with the orcs that so suddenly had shown up to offer help where before they had occupied or kept to themselves. Nysqwen wondered aloud if Teynos could perhaps have a word with them and get us to their leader in order to exchange knowledge. No one had been given access to their territory before, however, and it would be doubtful if Teynos would be accepted by them or shunned just as most humans were uncomfortable around the mix-breeds. Archie had heard the guards speak of the leader as Ankariba, a shaman that was leading this tribe since it arrived in Neverwinter. He pensively continued that this might be a form of power play, where the occupants hoped to gain favour from the now fortified parts of the city in exchange for their nightly hunts. This would imply that they perhaps knew no more than us and were merely seizing an opportunity. Without issues, the guards allowed us entry back into the city proper just as a blood red sun menacingly sunk at the horizon beneath the sea, causing us to quicken our pace to get to Grum’s home where we sunk onto his assortment of chairs and couches, exhausted from the day. He took a dark bottle with some syrupy liquid from a cabinet and poured all of us a drink to calm the nerves. A pleasant burning sensation numbed the throat while a sweet aftertaste took care of just what he had intended with this gesture. Kyla asked if anyone else thought it odd that after we had spoken with the guards about putting up a trap for the rats, we now had found ourselves in one we just barely escaped. Was someone spying on us? A very unsettling thought but a justified observation. As he had heard about magic that could track or spy on certain items, Archie asked all of us to check what we were carrying with us to make sure that at least we had not been given some sort of surveillance device. He noticed a shiny black pearl that Nysqwen pulled from her backpack that emitted a magical aura. She said she had carried that with her for quite some time already, it must have been salvaged from the cave of the hill giant. With his elaborate lenses, Archie took the trinket for a closer inspection. With every passing minute, a beginning grin on his face grew wider and wider, until he excitedly took off the goggles and explained that this pearl after attuning with it, would grant its bearer to recover some strength for certain spells once per day. As he had often found his own magical resources exhausted quickly, he was understandably overjoyed when everyone agreed that he should keep the pearl. His expression resembled that of a young child on its name day, it was a surreal moment of happiness amidst troubled times, rekindling hope for a better tomorrow. We decided to take a brief rest before using the night to seek for the flutist within the city walls. Before we ventured out into the night, Grum raised his ash once more and this time explained that he would aid us in passing without leaving traces for others to follow. Thus equipped, we strode into the silent, empty streets of a city that held its breath. The night was surprisingly cold for Midsummer, almost unnaturally so. A hint of rain was in the air and a slight wind chilled us even further. In the distance, orcish voices could be heard shouting brief phrases and Teynos could tell us that the hunters were out again, clearing paths through streets and tunnels. We found a vantage point from where we could keep an eye out on the streets in which the flute had been heard most recently and waited. Some time passed before a small, halfling-sized figure hushed through the shadows, wearing a dark cloak and hood up. But I would recognise my old friend anywhere. Irakin briefly stopped, glanced about and then continued his path. Soon after, a soft thud made us turn around and the halfling stepped from the shadows in my direction. He whispered that she had vanished somewhen in the last few hours. No one had seen her leave or wander, but the house was empty. Alarmed, I thanked him for his information and wished him well for his further business. Seeing the look on my face or hearing the trembling in my voice, the others asked no questions when I asked them to help me check on a house in the chasm district and followed me promptly. For the second time this day we went to the far side of the new eastern city wall. Again and again, the feeling of being watched came over us and kept us on our toes. I quickened my steps until we were half running towards the familiar alleys towards an old, simple house close to the north-western edge of the district. Still better kept than many of the buildings around it, it was plain to see that its inhabitants did not have the coin to repair the broken windows on the ground floor and thus had just nailed them shut with some wooden boards. The door was locked, so I bade my friends to wait for a brief moment while I went into the side alley, making the climb to the window on the first floor that I knew how to open from the outside without any tracks and entering the humble chamber, where faintly glowing coals were all that remained from an evening’s fire in the hearth. After a quick peek in the small neighbouring room to confirm what Irakin had said, I hushed down the stairs, avoiding any squeaking floorboards without actively thinking about it and opened the barred door from the inside to let my friends enter. I welcomed them to what arguably might be called my home and explained that my mother had gone missing somewhen within the last few hours. And I confirmed that indeed I inherited my racial background at least partially from her, indicating that I was quite suspicious about learning of a tiefling mistress and her disappearance on the same day. Together we searched the small abode. The bed looked untouched; no sleep had been found tonight. On the nightstand I found the opened scroll I had left a few nights ago and decided to take it with me for the time being. It did not take long before we discovered a mask tucked under the bed, resembling the prolonged snout of a rat. In a crate we found a bone flute, unadorned but masterfully carved. On top of that a faint but pungent smell of decay lay in the air, especially in the bottom floor. I did not say a word. I couldn’t. Nothing made sense anymore. What was happening? True, our relationship was estranged, distant, but of all the people in the world she was among the last I would have expected to liaise with hellish folk. I could hardly bare the looks I was getting from my friends, my face turned to stone. Archie found neither flute nor mask to be magical and the latter would only from afar be convincing for a rat’s face. Teynos tried to put it on but was surprised as he realised that the straps were hardly long enough to reach around his head. He threw me a measuring glance and asked if my mother had similar horns to mine. He assessed that the way the disguise was designed was very strange for a tiefling as the horns would be in the way of the fastenings. I don’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing. If the items had been placed here, what was their intentions? Would someone randomly expect people to raid the homes of tieflings in Neverwinter for connections to the rat plague and decided to put the blame on them? Or were these intended for us to find? Why? I could not think straight, this was too much. Grum stepped forward, taking the initiative. He guided us out of the house and turned into a dire wolf, sniffing the cold air until he found a trail of the rotting smell. Without being able to pay attention where we were going, I followed my friends. The trail ended at an all too familiar well, a well we had climbed out of only hours before when a sudden melody interrupted our search through the sewers. We climbed down once again but at the bottom we found the water being turned blood red. Grum led us into the tunnel, following a broad, dark trail; whoever had left it must have lost a lot of blood in the process. The stench increased with every step we took until the tunnel we traversed ended in a hole in a brick-build wall. Behind it, we could see some part of the sewer system. A limp body was slowly drifting in the current through its centre while in an alcove some rats were feasting on another carcass. All paths were covered in blood. Kyla stepped to Teynos and bade him to give her his hand on which he wore the ring I had passed on to him earlier. As she was holding it, his and her corresponding ring began to pulse with a dim blueish light for just a heartbeat until she let go of his hand. She nodded satisfied. The half-orc was the first to step into this new section, loosening a brick in the process that tumbled into the slow stream of bloody sewage, scaring the rats apart with the noise. The body, now slightly further down the tunnel, had once been a female halfling, clad in rags that marked her as an inhabitant of the chasm district. The view around us was truly horrific, the stench mind-numbingly awful. Kyla could not keep her dinner down and it took all my willpower to not join in her retching. Bodies were strewn around us, cast to the sides with an appalling carelessness. Blood, gore and sickness had built something resembling a temple to the worst elements of existence, its deity cruelty and spite. Archie instructed Voithos to scout ahead while we slowly followed. Just as the familiar turned a corner, we heard a cry for help, so full of despair and pain that in combination with our surroundings it almost brought me to my knees. Clusters of rats were everywhere, regular sewer rats but also the monstrous specimen that had tormented Neverwinter recently. While Archie was picking the lock of a rusty gate blocking our passage, I conjured the melody that haunted our nightmares in the direction from which we came which caused a number of the larger rats to look up from their respective meals and head towards the sound. Ori did not detect an immediate threat and so we pushed on until we found an entryway to what looked like a faintly lit cellar. From within, the horrible screams continued. A rasping voice was reciting a litany in the infernal tongue of the hells, what words I could make out did not bode well for whoever was screaming in that room. Another iron gate was blocking the entrance to the room. Not hesitating, Teynos tore ahead and with a resounding clang tried to kick in the gate. It took him multiple attempts before he succeeded, the litany in the other room never faltering, never stopping to wonder who was knocking on its door. The half-orc burst through the door, followed by Nysqwen. Archie conjured Ori as the rest of us followed suit. If the surrounding tunnels had the appearance of a disgusting mirror image of a temple, this room was its sanctuary. A large summoning circle covered most of the floor, rimmed with lowly burning torches. On the far end, a stone altar was placed, on top of which lay a naked woman, screaming for help on the top of her lungs. Looming over her was the flutist. His recitation never faltered as he shot a glance to our direction, gestured three gigantic rats to deal with us and raised a terrifying serrated dagger above the woman. Just before Archie could enter the room fully to make space for Grum, Kyla and myself, one of the rats rushed up and blocked the passage. Then complete and utter darkness filled the hallway. I knew this magic and immediately realised that no vision would be able to pierce through that veil. We were cut off from our friends, who we could hear fighting the second rat and rushing towards the altar. I could here the final words in the devils’ tongue saying: “Hereby accept my offer oh Lord of Rats, oh Lystramon” and a final, heart wrenching scream echoed through the chamber before the female voice stopped forever. I fumbled at my belt pouch until I found the scroll we had been given by Hamun Kost what felt like eternities ago. Hastily read words that felt alien and yet guided by some strange power dispelled the darkness in front of us. In order to help deal with the blockage posed by the rat, Grum casted a beam of moonlight right on top of the gigantic rat, now filling the passage with blinding white light. Behind it, we could hear painful squeaking as Teynos and Nysqwen were dealing heavy blows to our foes. Finally, the rat that was keeping us at bay fell and we could charge into the cellar to aid our companions, however at the cost of diving straight through the well-meant moon light. Cursing, Grum began moving the beam towards the flutist that stood awaiting at the foot of the altar. Nysqwen ran straight towards the figure which in response conjured some blueish shell like an arcane shield around itself and assailed the dragonborn with a lightning bolt of black energy that emerged from its dark, humanoid hand. All I could think of was to further protect Kyla and Archie who were still a few paces back with me, while Teynos mercilessly pummelled the remaining two large rats to the ground. Grum suddenly was assailed by a swarm of rats that had emerged from a corner of the room. Kyla meanwhile desperately tried to reach out to stop the soul of the woman from leaving her body yet. A second lightning bolt hit Nysqwen and Teynos who pressed on to get to the strange being. Grum did not heed the rats around him too much and continued moving his beam onto the flutist, a terrible squeal filled the chamber when the beam finally touched its form. In a last effort, the flutist called out to Archie, causing the young man to suddenly stop in his tracks and heal the by now heavily wounded creature. Ori’s attention shifted from our enemies to Teynos and bombarded him with arcane energy, forcing the half-orc to lose his consciousness. I desperately called Archie’s name, pleading to his senses and yanked the staff up, pointing at the creature. Eight beams erupted from the tip, but all were absorbed without effect by the blue sphere around its body. It at least caused enough distraction for Nysqwen to finally get into striking distance and in a devastating blow she cut the creature down where it stood. Silence. Only the sound of blood dripping from the altar was to be heard as Archie shook out of his charmed state and Teynos gruntingly stood back up, his orcish ferocity pushing through as his jaw clenched tight against the pain. Kyla rushed to the lifeless body on the altar, but it was too late. The spirit had left the body and there was no saving this woman. The blood of the flutist hit the edge of the circle on the ground, ‘ere we could so much as gather our thoughts. All the lights died. The circle now glowing in a dark red light. From its centre emerged the largest rat I had ever seen. It’s shoulders above head height, it stood there, bathed in the red light, looming over our exhausted party. (Note to self: maybe I should revive this idea I had before… Cliffhanger I had called it. I will just cut out here without a warning, continuing the story in the next chapter. Would this work if I continued in a new volume? Contemplate this!)

From the Dungeon to the Sewers
30th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

A nerve-racking eternity later, Kyla and Nysqwen returned. They had explained all we knew to master Khalid, including our encounters with the hags in the swamp and the curse laid upon the daughter of the lumberjack. Nysqwen’s superior had hypothesised that this Lystramon still had to be somewhere within the city, potentially accompanied by some cultist. If this plague was in any shape connected to the demon whose summoning had been attempted, no one could know at this point. Our mission would be to find out where such entities might reside, to that end the city guard might help us by telling us where the rats had attacked more frequently. This should aid in narrowing down the search radius. Furthermore, the two had received a sending stone that should allow for quick communication with master Khalid if need be. As the main guard station within the city was within that inner government palace, and thus still inaccessible, we went back to the Winged Wyvern bridge to speak with the stationed guards. The three men stationed there looked up at our approach and began hailing us over frantically. Before we could present our plea, they exclaimed that our group resembled one that was currently wanted by the city guard of Neverwinter. The accusation was that a half-elven woman had attacked an orderly citizen out of nowhere, with her accomplices threatening the man and his friends. These cursed fools attempting to cleanse the temple! Kyla asserted that she had not raised her hand against the man in question (which I suppose is technically true), as we explained our version of the story. The guard seemed not fully convinced by that however and bade us follow him to the garrison as this matter required further investigation. Since we were headed to someone with more authority anyways, we followed them with no resistance. We were led to a building on the docks that thus far I had tried to avoid as much as possible – one of the more fortified bastions of the Neverwinter guard. They brought us before a man in his forties, his gaunt face framed by a long grey beard, sitting behind a massive desk covered in an organised chaos of parchment rolls and papers. Captain Ramas looked definitely older than at our last encounter though if I had done my job correctly, he should not have seen me back then. The lack of recognition in his expression calmed my pulse down slightly. He repeated the charges already stated by the guards earlier and once again Kyla responded with our version, adding that we were here on behalf of the Lords’ Alliance to help the city and that this certainly was not the time to waste with such nuisances. Grum indignantly added that he was quite disappointed in the city guard to bring such allegations against him as a member of the brew masters guild, while I chimed in that the priests of the temple of the Mother of all Magic could certainly help back our reputation somewhat after what we had done on their behest. Captain Ramas still insisted that this matter would require further investigation, the Lords’ Alliance would be contacted, and our denouncers had to be questioned more in detail. In the meantime, he saw himself with no other choice then to take us into temporary custody until this matter was resolved. We were brought into a small chamber where another guard behind a counter took all our weapons and armour, insisting on Voithos as well, whom Archie had tried to hide underneath his shirt. It was quite painful to see the desperation in the young human’s eyes as he had to give up his small friend, albeit for a hopefully short while. At least he would not have to spend the time in an individual cell but would be amongst us. Nysqwen’s attempt to hide her throwing axes by contrast was more amusing, although she seemed almost as sad as Archie to part ways with her weapons. When the guards seized Archie’s staff, he pointed out they should take extra care with the red button on its side. Next, we were brought into a dimly lit cell, the only light coming in through a barred window. We were locked inside, yet at least they did not bother to lay us in chains. After carefully avoiding ending up in this place for my entire life, it was sobering to finally end up in this place for something as stupid as this. The irony almost made me laugh out loud. Upon being asked, Archie explained that the button he had pointed out caused a sonic condensation within the shaft that upon release would shatter any glass or fragile stone around, while being quite unpleasant to any creatures in the vicinity. With nothing better to do, Grum began imitating a variety of animal noises for us to guess. His seagull was so convincing that indeed a yellow beak appeared through the bars of the window. Two hours later we were free to go. A message from master Khalid validated our claims, the Lords’ Alliance influence in the city was not to be underestimated. After gathering all our belongings, we came before captain Ramas once more. Discussing now our real reason for coming here, he apologised and assured additional safety measures would be taken for the temple of Lathander. The proclamation of the mob before the palace had indeed caused a great deal of worry within the bodies responsible for order in the streets. Ramas further explained that the rats for the past days had been less of a problem throughout the day but had wreaked havoc in the nights. If things continued as they stood now, food storages would run out quickly in this lockdown thus time was of the essence. The northeast of the city was still tight in the grasp of the orcs and there were no reports how things stood there. The south-eastern districts surrounding the chasm also were problematic due to their size and the usual strange activities around the maw, leaving many of the more superstitious guards with a burning desire to stay as far away from there as possible. Still, rat attacks seemed to concentrate somewhat along the new eastern wall segregating the chasm region from the city proper, yet it was difficult to say that with certainty. The guard’s strategy thus far had been to eliminate the huge black rat leaders, in his opinion just killing enough of those should stem the onslaughts somewhat. Kyla interposed that it might be prudent to catch one of these devil-rats for questioning, perhaps they would know more than our old friend Ratty McRatface. The main problem here would be their notorious teleportation if things grew too dire. A problem the guards had experienced as well and they too had failed to find a suitable solution as of yet. Kyla asked if there might be some kind of anti-magic chains for magically endowed criminals that might be used if one could hold the rat down for long enough. Ramas affirmed that and handed us two pairs of these shackles although these properties only worked reliably against very simple forms of magic, something as powerful as these hellish spawns may not have any issues ignoring their properties. He also assured us 25 gold pieces for every fiendish rat we would slay, as long as we could provide evidence. Teynos wanted to know if attacks at the very beginning of this plague had already accumulated in the east, which indeed was true if the captain recalled correctly. A request for potential backup by soldiers he had to turn down, as the guards were busy enough with their own patrols, but he agreed to let his men know that we were to be allowed entry into any areas our research would lead us to. With this knowledge, we said our goodbyes to make our way towards the inner eastern wall of the city. I truly hope this was my last time in such a cell, this was more than enough already. On our way, we suddenly heard the splintering of wood and furious voices shouting. Shortly after, we saw another group of people breaking into a warehouse, probably searching for food. As Kyla shouted for guards, their attention shifted to us and a few dozen men and women started angrily charging at us, simple clubs, some pitchforks and torches raised high. Alas, they had not planned on us putting up much of a fight and within a few heartbeats of casting spells, the sudden appearance of a large roaring bear and fire being spewn over their heads by Nysqwen, Ori and Archie, the anger turned very quickly into fear and then confusion as Kyla stepped forth and created food and water from thin air in the barrels around us. We urged them to not be stupid, take the provisions gifted to them to their families and let us do our job in finding a long-term solution to the problem haunting the city. First hesitantly, then with increasing greed the townsfolk gathered as much food as they could carry and quickly vanished from sight, before Nysqwen’s still quivering nostrils would unleash a second torrent of dragon’s flame. Shortly after, basically just in time, the guards, Kyla had called for came jogging around a corner. Upon hearing what had happened, they thanked us for our swift acting, murmuring that it was now beginning, the madness that can only develop in a city in lockdown was spreading its cancerous arms. Kyla told them what she had done and recommended that the temples in the city should be approached as most of the clerics there should be able to make food and clean water for at least some people or a few days if distributed properly. When we eventually reached the city wall, we began looking for possibilities how the rats might get into this part of the city if they indeed originated from somewhere around the chasm. Multiple entrance points to the sewers posed one option, the rough stone comprising the wall a second. However, hundreds of rats scaling and descending the structure regularly would probably have been noticed at this point. Some of the roofs though were close enough to the wall that jumping these would be another alternative for the larger specimen, especially as the same held true for the other side as I knew far too well. The old ways might have found new purpose. The alleys around us were disturbingly silent for this time of day, all windows barred and some of the doors featured a large black X indicating for the priests of Kelemvor that the resident would require relocation to the fields of the Lord of Death. We knocked on a few doors, many of which remained shut. The common notion we gathered from the few that were willing to speak to us was affirming much we already knew. Yet a younger lady and an older gentleman were convinced they had heard the faint sound of an enticing flute melody. While the former was unable to pinpoint where that melody had emanated from, the latter described the sound wandering through the streets in a northward trajectory, passing closely by his window. He was happy to grant us access to his home for the night as evening was upon us and we wanted to stay in the area in case the melody would return. His modest home reminded me a lot of Chant’s place, although a little larger as it could accommodate all of us. Thus, a strange feeling of home came over me when we settled around his kitchen table, sharing food and stories. Teynos told us how his mother after being unable to provide for him had given him to the monastery when he was still too young to remember. Since then, he had lived a life dominated by books and work in the service of the community, yet he always had been different from the others. He never sought much company, preferred his books and reading about the world around their secluded place. Until one day reading was not enough anymore, and he came to the conclusion that this life should have to offer more. He escaped one night and had been on the road before he eventually ran into us. Unfortunately, in all his lessons a few had been left out, amongst them how to deal with money and that most everything in the world was selfish and would either use you or kill you. Kyla spoke off her family, and the small town of Woodsmid. With much warmth in her voice, she referred to her parents and siblings, whatever they were up to these days. And the temple. A large sanctum to the Raven Queen, surrounded by a conglomerate of other smaller shrines that had spread over the years as all faiths were welcome in this place of acceptance. She once again talked about the vision she had received from her patron, confused as it was the fate of her older sister Killi to become the next high priestess and as such to be in closer conversation with the Queen. There was no doubt however on the veracity and the importance of the message which had her immediate departure as consequence. Now she was wondering what the greater plan behind this might be or if her purpose was more to heal those that crossed our paths. At some point, Archie discovered a bookshelf in a neighbouring room and feverously opened one after the other. All of them contained beautiful drawings but to his disappointment only small passages of text telling tales for children. When he noticed this, our host joined our friend and enthusiastically showed him more and more intricacies. This was his life’s work; he illustrated these books for a living and to provide joy to those that would read them. Archie listened to everything with patience and unfailing courtesy, although he visibly lost interest as soon as he understood the simplicity of the texts in front of him. Our group was truly a wonderous one, this many different stories and characters having found one another to found this unlikely bond. Tested as it may be at times, it had hold strong indeed up till now. Let’s see if it will be able to resist the literal forces of the nine hells tearing at its strands violently. I pray all of us will find the strength to push against these threats so that the bond may not only remain but grow tighter, incorruptible. For the night we distributed watches amongst ourselves. Archie and I had the final one, I spent the time laying the foundation to a new song that perhaps can contribute to lifting spirits once all this madness hopefully will be over. We noted nothing out of the ordinary throughout the night, although the overall mood in the city continued being dampened to say the least. We thanked our host for his kindness and left him with some of the food Kyla had created during her watch. As we had no better leads, we chose to try our luck around the chasm and made our way to the southern gate. The guards stationed there opened it after recognising us – apparently, they had been informed to grant passage to our little hard to confuse group. The men informed us that unfortunately there had been some arson at the temple of Lathander during the night but thanks to the heightened security measures after our report, the flames could be doused before anything major happened and there had been no injured in the incident. Much more unexpected was the arrival of orcish hunting parties from the north, scurrying through the streets and exterminating any rat swarms they could find. They were much less squeamish about jumping into sewers to give chase and thus rather successful in their endeavour. Their leader, an orc woman only few citizens have ever seen must have struck some kind of a deal which indicated that the green skins are having very similar issues to ours and they understood that this was a common enemy who demanded cooperation. Denizens of the chasm district these days were poor souls at the best of times. Circumstances like this plague was bringing things to a state that bordered uninhabitable. We saw even less people than usual on the streets, the few that were sneaking around were nervously looking around constantly, almost sprinting through the streets to not be exposed for too long. Multiple times we passed by two or more people having arguments over food. A quick glance over the area that would be across from where we were looking for tracks yesterday revealed no more insights than we already had, but our attention constantly drifted to the poor folk and their misery around us. Kyla initiated setting up a soup kitchen of sorts, from where she distributed what food she was able to make to the greedy hands all around us. Filled with gratitude, the people lamented about what had happened to them. They told us of countless deaths, dwindling food and water and even people disappearing. Being faced with such misery, one could almost sympathise with some of the chants of the mob the other day. Where was the fairness that was praised by our dear Lord Protector so much? Was there truly no way for the city to help these people? Here, the rats had not yet resorted to only coming at night. It was a constant threat, looming in every shadow, every small opening. Most of the men and women around us told us they heard this strange flute in the nights although it was impossible to pinpoint from whence it emerged. Steve was the last to vanish, he was last seen at a well and then suddenly was gone. We were guided to where he had his makeshift camp in the ruins of an old house. A blanket was put up to make for some sort of cover, behind which we found some piles of rags, a firepit and some mouldy bread. It did not appear that someone had left with the intention to stay away for long but there were no signs of a skirmish and the only rat shit Teynos could find was of the normal size. Perhaps he had been taken somewhere else. Or he had gone on his own volition, which was an eerie thought. We followed our guide to the well where Steve had last been seen: a dark hole of at least ten paces. Archie asked Voithos to scout ahead on our behalf and after a while told us there were two passageways just above the surface of the brackish water. Both led a few paces into opposing sides before bending away from a straight path. There was no choice but to once more climb down into the underbelly of the city. The tunnels directly branching off from the well shaft had a very strange texture to them as Grum pointed out. Other than the sewer system we had made acquaintance with before, these were not lined with brick walls but had a strange smoothness to them that was not of humanoid origin. Grum knew of a variety of beasts that inhabited the ground that are quite capable in digging elaborate tunnel systems. Alternatively, it might have been caused by some other forces of nature, although neither of us had any real experience with such things. And one of the two at least ended up leading back into the familiar sewage system. We have now wandered its disorienting twists for multiple hours, this system must stretch the entire area of the chasm district. Two times we have found an abrupt end to the tunnel we were following, as it ended in the broken cliff that is the maw in the earth and we hasted back the way we came as quickly as possible both times. We have taken a brief brake now, catching our breath allaying the hunger that spelunking brings with it. But if we will not soon find something, we might be forced to come back tomorrow. Spending the night in these tunnels seems to be just about the worst idea I can imagine!

Arising Tensions
29th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

From the temple of Mystra, we decided to go our separate ways around sunset to accomplish our individual goals for the evening. However, as Grum and I left Archie at his place to go to the dwarf’s home, Teynos continued to trot along with us. As we did not want to seem rude, we accepted his company for the time being. After a whole day in the city without any major incidents, the inevitable happened: Only a few streets further in, Grum spotted one of the enormous fiendish rats in a back alley, accompanied by a few slightly smaller mutated rodents and clusters of regular sewer rats, dining on what looked like two unmoving bodies. Some might say that we would have had the option to just silently back away and convince ourselves that it was already too late for the unfortunate victims. But of course, we could not just let the animals defile the bodies like that and there was the faint bit of hope that they were not beyond saving. Hence, Grum took a step in their direction, focussed, and summoned an array of sprouting thorns from between the cobblestones, ‘ere he yelled at the rodents to come try a piece of dwarf. Following this provocation, dozens of tiny and the few larger heads turned in our direction and they began their charge. The first few rats were running straight into the set trap and satisfactorily seemed to have a hard time with countless tiny needles penetrating their feet. However, the second wave had learned from their forerunners. They were climbing up the walls enclosing the alley, not stopping in their assault on us. In the hopes of creating some confusion amongst the animals and potentially keeping the thorned rats in their predicament, I attempted to channel the sinister energy I had felt in the maw of the crocodile in a less devastating way. Upon hissing a phrase in the damned tongue, a sphere of pure black filled the passage between us and the rats, impeccable even to my eyes that usually have no problem with darkness. The problem with this plan however was that now we too were unable to see the creatures. Along the surrounding walls from the black void in front of us emerged swarms of rodents, intent to continue their feast and out of nowhere the supposed leader appeared amongst us, venom dripping from its fangs, snapping for Teynos and me. The half-orc’s fists flew in a blaze, raining punches on our foe as he cried out for Archie who should still be within hearing distance. Grum casted a beam of silverish light at the rat and veered into his bear shape. Whilst we were doing our best to fend off the onslaught, Archie, who must have heard Teynos’ shouting came sprinting down the main street, already preparing Ori for battle. Much to our surprise though, Kyla and Nysqwen came running up not too far behind him. In the ensuing short, ruthless battle, Teynos, Nysqwen and bear-Grum as usual dealt heavy blows in close combat while Archie and Ori incinerated rats by the score. Kyla sent forth her spiritual mace to join the fray and more than once reinvigorated those of us that received grave wounds – which, likely due to his bold fighting style was mainly Teynos, who was repeatedly bitten as he was forced to get into very close quarters with the rodents. Grum also was assaulted continuously but as soon as he was forced to revert to his humanoid shape his still active moon beam managed to slay the rat’s swarm leader who faded from existence without leaving so much as a hair behind. I would hazard a guess that it re-joined its kin in the nine hells, and it would not have been the last we will see of it. The remaining animals did not put up much more of a fight and were quickly dealt with afterwards. The motionless bodies further down the alley were covered in bitemarks. Small chunks of flesh had already been chewed off before we arrived. Kyla rushed over but was unable to do much more than close their eyes, fold their hands over their chests and sent a silent prayer to the Raven Queen to grant their souls save passage. Nysqwen explained that they had been unable to find master Zashier Khalid, as he apparently was at some discussion in the Neverwinter Palace with a group of politicians, including the Lord Protector himself. She wondered what a man of his position was doing at such an assembly but there would be no way to reach out to him this evening. In the meantime, Archie had fetched a group of city guards to whom we explained what had transpired. They thanked us for our service although we pointed out that we had been too late and promised to take care of the bodies. Visibly tired, Archie headed home afterwards. For the rest of us, an awkward pause developed, as Grum and I were keen to have some words under four eyes while Nysqwen, Kyla and Teynos first wanted to join in for some drinks at Grum’s place. They seemed to understand our admittedly not very subtle hints that it was a small place and there would certainly be better food at Anataea’s and somewhat begrudgingly parted ways with us. Splitting a group like this always comes with a strange aftertaste… But some things require a certain familiarity that does not come easily. I am still not certain as to how strong the bond and how deep the trust in this new group is. As we arrived at my old friend’s house, Grum presented me with an evening gown he had commissioned for me. It was of a colour almost matching my skin, very soft fabric and only slightly too small. Gladly I accepted this very kind gift and with a sigh of relief I finally was able to drop all illusions. We poured some good wine, filled our pipes, and sat in high-backed chairs in front of his fireplace, discussing the events of the last few days. I used this opportunity to apologise for my loss of control over myself in the harrowing first night in the swamp, admitting that in the blind madness that had gripped me, I had almost swung against the dwarf had the final will-o’-wisp not caught my attention at the right moment. With a smile, he said there was no need for an apology, that this was rather further incentive to find a solution to this curse. He just hoped it would no be an anchor point for some sort of control the fiends emerging in the city could have over me. I had not given this possibility much thought before but of course he was right. That would be a devastating discovery. However, thus far their encounters with me did not seem accompanied by any such threat, assuming that if that was a possibility, they would know about it and use it against us. In hindsight, I am now wondering if there might even be some benefit to this, if this devilkin would be inclined to believe I was closer to working with them than against them… What were Anataea’s words? Use every trick up your sleeve if you are facing something that threatens to overwhelm you. Regardless how desperate it may seem. Grum told me, he was worrying about Quercus. He had not been to the forest in a while and so far, our adventuring had not brought him any closer to a cure. Last time he saw his friend, he was still standing firm, but his strength was visibly dwindling. He probably should go and seek him out once more to see how things stand. If these damn rats were not a gigantic issue at the moment, finding a proper cure would be our main concern, closely followed by finding out by what had happened to Nysqwen’s brother. Thus, we debated for a while about what possible steps might be taken to find said cure, what he had not tried up to this point, until sleep took us. After a hearty breakfast and Archie coming over, we took course towards Anataea’s the next morning to meet up with the rest of our friends. Along our way, a large group of people crossed our path, heading towards the southern gate. Usually at this time of day that would not be an uncommon sight but with the current shutdown of the city and the dangers lurking in its shadows it now was rather surprising and had a troublesome flavour to it. We stopped one man to ask what was going on and he explained agitatedly that they would not be kept down by the authorities. The higher society would just be securing their riches while the poorer population were left to dying anyway and on top of that were forbidden to leave their homes. Any attempts to reason that the city guard were already doing their best and that staying indoors for most of the time were mere measures to protect the population while trained fighters did their best to deal with the threat were falling upon deaf ears, the man just continued on with his peers to take a stance against the authorities. To be fair, there was undeniably a cleft between rich and poor and the last years with the emergence of the rift and the arrival of the orcs had done their part to worsen this. But through all this chaos, most of the time the city guard was doing their job in protecting the citizens and running around the streets with no clue what was really going on was a disaster bound to happen. For now though, there was nothing we could do about that and thus continued towards our friends. We arrived while they were just having breakfast with some of the kids and were happy to join for that. Nysqwen and Kyla had this impish gleam in their eyes as the former asked us how our date had been. Not quite understanding what she was referring to, we just dug into the food. She got up to get some more food but to our surprise saw that the stocks were running somewhat empty. As I looked up however, the mischievous expression on Kyla’s face had yielded to one of wide-eyed shock and confusion. She awkwardly got up and said I would have something unhealthy looking on my face, I should join her in her room so she might have a look at it. With that, she left the room and heavy footfalls made their way up the stairs. I knew that look. That cursed look. As none of the other people around the table displayed similar feelings, I assumed that only she had seen behind the illusions. I got up and followed her. As I left the room, Irakin stood in the hallway, awaiting me. He handed me ten gold pieces and with one of his sly grins replied to my question if my friends had provided that money that that was not particularly the case. I asked him about the low food supplies and with a more serious face he explained that in the current lockdown everything was getting more expensive but that Anataea had not yet deemed circumstances too dire. It might however be only a matter of time before we would have to look for the shadier ways of supply. With a knowing nod we headed off in our respective directions. In Kyla’s room, I once more dropped all facades, facing the still wide-eyed woman. I ensured her that there was nothing more wrong than usual, that I just had on good authority that revealing this sight to everyone never ended well as most ordinary people would freak out, misinterpreting what they were seeing. And that I had had enough unfortunate experiences that made me very cautious about how others were able to perceive me. She said she was sorry that I felt the need to hide my true visage even amongst friends as we had grown to be and truthfully, I replied that it was very difficult to break with old habits and let go deeply engrained fears. Yet I did not mention what other cursed gifts my specific heritage brough with it, that was a discussion I still did not feel ready for. She said it broke her heart to see me hiding like this. With slumped shoulders she agreed to not tell anyone else for now and made her way back to breakfast. With sweaty palms and shivering knees, I collapsed against the next wall. When I re-joined my friends in the kitchen, they were still eating. To Nysqwen’s question if I was feeling better, I replied that this was indeed the case and how glad I was for Kyla’s healing capabilities and her friendship. Always accompany a lie with at least two truth. Kyla and Nysqwen noticed that each were missing about 25 gold pieces that definitely were there last night when they went to bed. They were somewhat disappointed in our hosts, blaming them for the vanishing coin. I showed them what Irakin had given me earlier, explaining that I doubted that there was any theft from our hosts, they were quite good in looking after themselves. Well, at least one truth… But if the money was gone, we perhaps should make investigations for someone must have snuck into the house last night and take the money. Well, Irakin, I am sure you knew what you were doing, and that the donation is for a good cause. The children have to be fed after all. Now the conversation once more turned to Kyla trying to explain to Teynos that defence sometimes was not best achieved by a wild offence. Begrudgingly, the half-orc seemed to accept the argument that Kyla felt responsible for all our health and that she had brought him back from the brink more than once. That was taxing for one, and there would eventually be a situation where she would not be around to save him. For demonstration on how easy it was to hit someone if they were not expecting it to come, she punched Teynos softly in the face, whereupon the young half-orc Sven stood up to his full height and told her that if she was fighting Teynos, he was there to protect him. None of us could hide the smile but the boy definitely proved that he had taken the lessons to heart. Never let someone threaten your friends if you can do something about it! On that note, she asked, if I could give him perhaps the platinum ring, she had made me a while ago, that allowed for her to protect me from some of the wounds I received, albeit at the cost of those being transferred to her. With Teynos being far more in the front line, this was a very obvious choice, although I am not certain in how far the timing just coincided with our earlier talk or if there was some tension building up somewhere. I can only pray that this is not the case and that I find a way to remove any potential strains on our friendship as soon as possible. Finishing our breakfast, we all set out towards the Protector’s Enclave to speak to the Lords’ Alliance as well as the Harpers to offer our knowledge about what was going on. Unimpeded, we managed to reach the Winged Wyvern bridge where we once again stumbled into the mob we had encountered earlier, only it had grown significantly within the last two hours. A man was spearheading this assemblage, delivering a plain but passionate speech in which he blamed the authorities for hoarding all the city’s valuables and turning their backs on the common people. According to him, amongst the more common sewer illnesses first cases of the Gilbe and Zorgan pox had been found and were currently treated in the temple of Lathander. He proclaimed to be fed up with being suppressed by higher powers and goaded his keen audience more and more against the ruling bodies of the city. In the last two days the rats apparently had seized to attack during the day but rather came in the night to steal any remaining food stocks, attack people in their sleep and contaminate what they could not take. He finished his tirade by calling his followers to march towards the palace and demand their voices being heard by Dagult Neverember himself. Accordingly, the angry crowd marched further into the Enclave. However, Kyla noticed four men that strayed from the general course, their overall demeanour oozing trouble. Hence, we decided to follow them. They hurried further northwest, eventually turning into a smaller alley next to what we recognised as the temple of the Morninglord where one of them tampered with the lock of a side entrance. We revealed ourselves, demanding to know what they were doing here. Coating my next words with a bit of magical force, I suggested to the tamperer he better answer whatever Kyla wanted to know of him, as she could get rather unpleasant otherwise. With such a catalyst, he was rather forthcoming in revealing that they had come to, as was their interpretation, safe Neverwinter from the terrible diseases that were currently treated inside the temple by killing every infected person. Somewhat daunted by our numbers and at least Nysqwen’s rather intimidating form, they agreed to turn away and abstain from their hideous plans. Still, they seemed to be convinced to be completely in the right and just doing the world a great service. When they tried to push past us out of the alley, their leader brushed unnecessarily close to Kyla. Her nerves taut anyway, a small flash emanated from the pendant around her neck and the man collapsed where he stood. Another soft word at least returned his breathing. Horrified his accomplices carried him home, reassuring us more pleadingly now that they would not return to finish what they had come for. Still quite worried in face of the radical ideas these men had entertained, we thought it best to notify the temple of what had happened. Kyla knocked at the front gate, which was opened just far enough for a priest’s head to poke through a few moments later. Cautiously he inquired after our wishes, stating that currently they would not provide anymore healing. His face turned pale as Kyla told him of the four individuals and he thanked us for dealing with this. They would take measures to ensure the safety of their charges. Just what had gotten in these people to assume killing potentially dozens of sick people, risking even infecting themselves in the process was a sound solution to a pandemic? Where had decency gone in these last few days? As the last place we knew master Khalid to be was the Palace, we headed there only to find its gates locked shut, the chanting mob outside demanding entry and an end to their torments. There was no way of gaining the attention of the politicians on the inside, let alone entrance. Thus, we continued on towards the Lords’ Alliance once more. Entering their impressive foyer, we were asked to take a seat in a waiting area while only Nysqwen would be allowed to meet with master Khalid. She implored that it might be prudent to let Kyla join her as she would understand much more of healing and magic, both things she wanted to see the master about. And after the guard returned from asking for permission, both of them were asked to come in. Now it is waiting for what they may learn from Nysqwen’s contact. It hopefully will aid either them in their pursuit of the source of the plague or us in uncovering it ourselves. It might be most visible with Archie, but there is a nervousness in all of us as to what all this might lead to. Yet, a solution must be found. And quick, ‘ere more chaos will consume what bit of civilisation remains in Neverwinter.

Dismembered Corpses – and a Cauldron
28th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

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…

The Haunted Marshes
26th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Our first stop after taking our leave from Bran was Grum’s brewery in the hopes of meeting him there. And indeed, upon hearing from our arrival he stepped out from the building, visibly tired, yet smiling. His apron was covered in all kinds of liquids and he said, he had an epiphany the night before which demanded immediate attention, hence his early departure. But he was willing to join us in pursuing the accepted quests. Kyla rightfully mentioned that the sick girl, might need our immediate attention if she was indeed close to death. As she had learned, the father who had put forth the request for aid was a lumberjack who lived south of the Neverwinter walls. On our way there, we encountered numerous groups of people, most of them heavily burdened by their possessions, some even with small carts and wagons who were all trying to leave the rat-plagued city and seek peace in the south, in Leilon or even as far as Waterdeep. To our relief, any clusters of rodents seemed to shoo away from us as they apparently realised, we would put up a fight. When we left the city, a somewhat flattened stretch of grass was all that remained of the carnival. The alien but friendly folk who were running it had left a trail along the south eastern wall of Neverwinter, likely with the intention of traveling around and further north, now that paying customers were stuck in the safety of their homes. As someone often relying on the good mood of others enjoying whatever arts I may provide, it is very understandable why they chose to leave. Plus, there soon would be talk of conspiracies that the strangers had brought the plague, as correlation and causation are mixed up far too frequently. Still, it was a shame to see them gone. Not only for traditions sake, also it would have been a fine thing to have them around for celebration and a change of mind once all this will be over. After a good hour of walking, we reached the small grove, the father we were seeking was tending to. A simple wooden house stood at the outskirts, before it a shed and a woodcutting block. Upon knocking at the door, a middle-aged human man opened, as tall and almost as broad as Nysqwen, his hair unkempt and a thick beard covering his face. Yet most noticeable were his eyes, bloodshot and filled with the painful look of a man almost broken, at the brink of giving up. A brief glimmer of faint hope crossed his face as Kyla told him we were here to look after his daughter but passed as quickly as it came. He explained, she was unable to find sleep since a week, every time she closed her eyes she soon would awake with a start and scream at the top of her little lungs. And she was getting weaker every day. She was dreaming of a ghostly figure that haunted her through the streets of Neverwinter. Kyla asked him if we might enter and talk to his daughter directly, to which he did not object. The inside of the small house was dimly lit, cloths were put up at most of the windows. The room was dominated by a large table that looked like it had been carved from a single tree, perhaps by the man himself. Axes and other tools were hung on the walls. The air tasted like sweat and fear. From a bed in the corner emerged a weak breathing sound. Remembering the last time, an unfamiliar child reacted to my presence I chose to stay in the opposite corner while Kyla went over to the child. She confirmed to her, what her father had already told us and described the ghost as clad in a dark cloak and smoke, glowing red eyes peering under a pulled-up hood as it hovered above the cobblestones. All dreams came to a sudden end when the figure caught up with her in their chase and extended a crooked claw to draw her in. When Kyla turned around to face us, a concerned look had crept on her face. Out of earshot of the girl, she told us and the lumberjack that she was afraid that whatever was haunting the poor girl sounded an awful lot like a shadow demon. These creatures are notorious for wandering through shadows unseen and are often used by occult groups and shady organisations as assassins or for gathering information about rivals. But up to this point, she had never heard of them haunting the dreams of anyone. The only explanation she could muster would be that the girl would have to have been part of or close to some kind of ritual where the demon was supposed to be summoned. And something would have to have gone terribly wrong in the conjuration, for the entity to cling to her subconsciousness. The expression of the father understandably went even more pale than it had been before, and he began to slightly tremble. He told us that his daughter had been with her mother, Amafrey, the week before. She lived in the southern part of Neverwinter, close to the wall. But he would not know that his ex-wife would dabble in such atrocities. On the contrary, he was firmly convinced that she would share his love for their daughter, the one thing remaining from their engagement. In a hushed voice I told my friends that I knew of numerous rumours of raids by the city watch of presumed occult gatherings, some of them said to be successful. And there were constant stories about small cults for various causes, none of which ever had emerged to be a severe threat in loosening a demon on the city. We had encountered some members of the Cult of the Dragon, loyal to Tiamat, who were known to exist in Neverwinter. Archie had been fiddling with his goggles for the past minutes. He now confirmed that he saw an aura of conjuration magic surrounding the silently sobbing girl but that there were no further magical traces in this house. Therefore, it seemed unlikely that the father was untruthful and would try to hide some occult magic of his own. Kyla stepped once more to the girl and laid one hand on her forehead. She muttered a brief prayer and the sobbing stopped. The constant creaking of the bed that had been caused by twitches and shivers of the child faded as she found a brief peace in the divine aid that Kyla was able to grant her. With a sad smile she turned to us and said that this was all she could do for today, that the girl would be able to at least sleep for a few hours but that she would need some time and preparations to hopefully find a better answer to her ailment. If it was a curse, that was haunting her, then Kyla might be able to lift that on the following day. For now though, the father thanked her wholeheartedly for at least this brief amount of mercy that could be offered for his beloved daughter. In the meantime, I strode silently to the bed. The girl already was fast asleep, her weak breath more regular than it had been since we entered. I placed the rag doll I had won in the carnival games next to her, taking care that her father would not notice. She reminded me of so many I had seen in the streets and tried to help with Cor. Hopefully, it was not too late for this one. It was midday now, and we had no way of helping any further before the next morning. Similarly, time was running out for this day to accomplish anything with regards to the fiendish problem in Neverwinter, thus we decided to head straight for the marshes to the east of the city in the hopes of finding the herbs we were sent to retrieve and perhaps catch a trail of the missing mushroom forager. After a cheerful walk of a few hours, we came to the riverbank of the Neverwinter River and followed it further east to the outskirts of the bog. Soon enough, Grum was able to make out a dry stretch of grass, sheltered by a few hills and trees that would serve as a camp site for the night. With what remained of the daylight, Kyla with Grum and Teynos with Archie set out to try and see if they would find some of the plants and secure the area from any unwanted visitors through the night. Nysqwen and I stayed behind to set up camp and build a fire for their return. While going about the preparations, this gave us the opportunity to talk. I had spent the last hours contemplating how, about what and when I would speak up to my other companions. Still somewhat unsure, I at least wanted to gauge if the trust I was filled with was as justified as I felt. And I was eager to learn more about her past. She told me about her upbringing in Tourakas. While she had early on shown remarkable skills with weapons and in defence of her village, her brother, Urodaar, had been more the scholarly type. I have only heard her utter this name once before, when she was asking the black spider about his whereabouts, and a similar wistful tone crept in her voice now. He had gone to the nearby port of Djerad Kethendi to study at an academy there. One day, he had returned to visit the family, speaking of some secretive research he had been conducting. During this visit, a band that she described as too organised and trained to be just roaming marauders attacked Tourakas. Together with her father, she had rushed to the defence but soon in the fray had received a severe blow to the head that left her unconscious. When she came to, the fight was over. Her father had been slain and her brother vanished, likely taken by these attackers. Since then, she had been searching for him. And the spider’s talk of Imraloth and Maglust and the place known as U’hrid Nasad was the first faint trace she had found since her arrival in Neverwinter. Her always cheerful demeanour had cooled off a bit over her tale. Now the smile returned when she turned back to me and said that none the less, she was glad to have found such friends as with our group. I promised her once more, to accompany her in this search, if she would have what aid I might provide, and her smile grew even warmer and broader. She said, her mother would throw her hands up in shock if she would know half of the adventures her daughter had been through but might be relieved to know her in such company as she had found now. I noddingly agreed that it is probably for the best that mothers don’t always know what their offspring is up to. She laughed and said that Anataea seemed to be a great person though. With only a brief moment of hesitation, I told her that Anataea was indeed the greatest woman I had ever encountered and had taught me much but that she was not my mother. Before I could decide how much more I was willing to say at this point, our friends returned. They had successfully harvested some of the eye bright and a few other herbs. Grum and Kyla had not seen any tracks of beasts that might become a problem throughout the night. Teynos and Archie had also brought some mushrooms for dinner and indeed had seen scarce tracks from small humanoid feet and a few trunks that looked like someone else had collected fungi. But with darkness approaching, there was no way we would follow any tracks today. Archie therefore prepared a trap near our camp to secure one of the more open areas around us. In the meantime, Teynos prepared a very tasty and filling mushroom soup. A recipe, as he said, that was traditional to the monastery he was brought up in. Nysqwen offered to take first watch, followed by Kyla and Teynos and finally Archie and myself. When our turn came, we were told that all night small lights had been visible throughout the marshes and Kyla had sensed the presence of dozens of small undead presences, giving them away as being will-o’-wisps. They had not come any closer, but especially with the now approaching fog, it would be wise to keep an eye on them. Thus, we began our watch. The night was damp but not too cold. However, the fog and the utter silence, caused by the noise swallowing bog, were enough to send eerie shivers down our spines. The cry of a raven who descended on a branch behind us gave us a startle but remembering Kyla’s patron, we chose to interpret it as maybe a sign of protection. I recited an old poem, dark and beautiful to Archie, as we sat there in the diminishing shine of our fire. Suddenly, a high, terrified cry cut through the night. Immediately, we woke our friends, as the screaming continued, a female voice, clearly in distress. Without taking the time to don armour, we ran as fast as the treacherous ground would allow towards the voice and into the marsh. Kyla shouted the name of the missing woman, Lyra. Another cry, this time slightly closer to us, then silence. While we were running, I tried to leave marks in the surrounding trees and bushes as best I could so we would not get entirely los. I had heard and told enough horror stories in my life to know that that was the last thing you want to have happen. We stopped in the middle of nowhere, our boots sinking in thick mud the longer we were standing still. Many puddles and larger areas of murky water were spread all around us and a thick webbing coated many of the dry patches. Webbing of a size that we last encountered in a once lost mine… This did not bode well for whomever we were following. Teynos noted a slight ripple on one of the puddles and soon enough saw a toad the size of a human head emerge. As far as we were able to tell, this was as close as we were going to get to the origin of the last cry. Kyla was the first to hear squishing steps from the direction we had come from, therefore we followed her lead in bolting this direction. Around us, a handful of will-o’-wisps shed dim light in the fog and soon enough, we could make out a woman running through the bog in the same direction as we maybe fifty or sixty feet from us. She was being chased by a swarm of ravens, the birds occasionally darting down to pick on her. What had in the darkness and with only a quick glance looked like a tree trunk suddenly moved. The head of a gigantic crocodile, at least fifteen feet long turned to us as we passed, and his jaws clenched tight around Kyla. A second of these beasts emerged from the darkness, biting down on what was sticking out from the first crocodile’s mouth. Her agonised screams that cut deep in my heart stopped and she went limp in their grasp. In shock, I tried to hypnotise the terrible amphibians but managed to lure only one into a stasis. The other now turned its gaze to the rest of our group who cried out in unison in rage over our mauled friend. Grum turned into his familiar shape of a grey dire wolf, just as Archie sprinted forwards, dashed right between the two crocodiles and rammed a brazen syringe in Kyla’s chest. An audible gasp signalised that his brave advance had succeeded in bringing the half-elf back to live. Nysqwen and Teynos rushed up to the second crocodile and began an onslaught of cuts and punches that even through its thick hide seemed to severely impact the creature. The strange woman turned around, too far to make out her face and the same voice that we had heard cry through the marshes earlier was cursing the first crocodile, ripping it out of its stupor in the process. With a speed I would not have thought possible, I saw the beast running right at me, sharp teeth dug deep, and bones snapped. Then – darkness. What followed was like a fever dream where I appeared to be a bystander rather than an active participant. Something pierced through the darkness, tying my mind to this world. And I felt a clash of burning rage and ice-cold hatred well up in my ribcage. There was no way to control it this time. I felt my hand moving without me realising I would have ordered it to, and a voice rang through my ears. A spiteful growl spoke in the horrible infernal tongue as I realised that the words came from my own throat. The beast that still held me in its maw seemed to recoil somewhat. I felt the feeling of despise grew stronger and the voice doomed the crocodile once more. A sharp pain cut through to me as my hand scraped across jagged teeth. I felt my lips curl into a hateful grin as knowledge, rooted in the boiling blood in my veins, caused a spark of hellish flame to burn its way through the entire length of the animal holding me. Its painful cry, I realised horrified, caused a feeling of joy, almost pleasure. As it dropped dead to the ground, I rose, seeing the people around me fighting off some approaching will-o’-wisps as the strange woman was kneeling next to the corpse of the second crocodile hunched over a non-moving Teynos. Kyla’s holy symbol glowed in a bright light, for the first time in this fight properly illuminating the battlefield and caused two of the remaining eerie lights to dash away from her and vanish into the returning darkness. I saw another one attacking my old dwarven friend and with a final surge of burning anger I blasted it with the full force the staff that suddenly appeared in my hand harboured. With its light, so died the hate and anger in me and I felt the notion of control slowly settling in again. I threw an apologetic, pleading look to the knowing eyes of the wolf at my side. Was there a hint of a sad nod? It probably was just my imagination. Teynos suddenly cried out that the woman had been trying to kill him and threw wild fists towards her, upon which she vanished into thin air. Quick-witted, Archie threw a small silvery bead in the direction she had been at, fine metallic dust covered the bog around but revealed nothing of the woman. I used the brief moment of confusion to correct my appearance as the attention was on Teynos who apparently had been stabbed in the side by what looked like terribly long claws. Only thanks to Kyla’s healing capabilities had he been snatched from the brink of death. She must also have been the reason why I woke up in the clutches of the crocodile earlier. And I still need to thank her for that. But now, all we could do was getting out of the marshes as fast as we could. Following the marks, I had left, we ran back to our camp. When we came back, we all collapsed where we stood. This encounter, with as many near-death experiences had taken a heavy toll on us. Kyla once more gathered us around her and offered a prayer to the raven queen to thank her for the protection, alleviating us from many of the wounds we had suffered. We all agreed that the woman fit the description we had of Lyra awfully well. Either, the poor girl was dead, possessed or something else was terribly out of the ordinary here. But we all were too tired to think about this more just yet, we needed some rest. Now, everyone has settled back in their tents to regain their strength. None has said anything regarding what they might have seen of me. Is there still a faint hope they had not caught a glimpse? Only time will tell. But it has happened again. I hope, nothing I am unaware of has transpired. I cannot afford something as with Affinity to happen again, least of all to these people. And we still need to find what or whoever this woman in the marshes was.

Whatever, We’re Still Standing in Shit!
25th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

We woke up later the same day yet none of us had rested well. Over a late lunch, Nal told us that the skirmishes had continued all day although the city watch managed to fight them back more effectively as time passed by. With no better idea on where to start looking, Nysqwen sat down with the captured rat once more, going through the same ritual as in the morning, yet she found no new information. However, we decided to use the animal as a guide to lead us where it should have delivered the salvaged food. Archie hunkered down to tinker a small collar with which we should be able to control the rat on our investigation while Nysqwen mused about a name for the rodent. She came up with the creative ‘Ratty McRatface’… I am still not entirely sure if it was meant as a joke or if it was meant as serious as it had been delivered. Much to the dismay of my poetic heart, the name stuck with the rest of our group. From this day forth, there shall be a rat roaming the dark sewers of the city of Neverwinter and her name shall be Ratty McRatface… No, I wouldn’t even pay myself to hear such a story. We set out towards the nearest entry to the sewers. The dimly lit, damp and reeking tunnel consisted of canals of hideous waste streams, lined by small stone banks on either side to walk through the system. I opted to take the rear, taking poor Archie by the hand who barely was able to see anything. To make our time a little more comfortable, I willed two small pockets of fresh air into existence, covering at least his and my nose. The stream next to us had a steady flow to it, occasionally small objects drifted by. Somewhere in the distance, roaring as if from a small waterfall was audible. We realised quickly that clad in heavy armour, at least Archie and Nysqwen would not be able to keep quiet in the narrowed circumstances, hence Archie took out a lantern to help us on our way. After a few minutes of travel, turning once to follow our animal guide, we entered a small room. The light of our lantern revealed a rather dirty alcove littered with small bones. In one corner a larger heap of filth marked the presumed nest of Ratty and her growing anxiousness showed that she was rather desperate to get back to her youths although her magically enhanced form hardly would be capable to fit in this heap. A rusted and bend shovel head was the only thing that remained of what must have been a room for canal workers. If I recall, there was talk of kobolds being employed to do this work at some point. Nysqwen’s renewed communications with our guide revealed that it was supposed to bring any stolen food to this very chamber, yet none was laying around at the moment. We were able to find some tracks of what might have been snakes in the mud but no further humanoid imprints. Archie put on his bronze goggles, adjusted a few tiny levers and wheels at the side and exhaled heavily as he described to see some purple traces of transmutation magic in the air. This might have been the same magic that altered Ratty’s size. Heartlessly leaving Ratty to the pitiful job of finding her children in what seemed an empty and much to small nest, we continued our exploration of the sewers of Neverwinter. After a few more minutes of silent walking, we came upon a locked iron gate. Yet, between Archies nimble hands, his tools and my experience the lock was quickly picked. Archie mused, we must have traversed about half of the city and were closing in on the harbour district, when we were stopped by another gate, this one standing no more chance then the last to the young human. On the other side, a large basin opened up into which the stream we were following as well as three more were spilling with sickening splashing sounds of refuse as if four giants with horrible bowel movements were relieving themselves. Despite this unappetising scenery, Grum volunteered to change into his giant toad form to look for any signs that might point to the leader of the rats. After several minutes of diving and searching in the murky liquid, all he could tell us was that there was a pipe leading away from the basin and along the walls faint scraping marks, as if from a sharp metal object, could be seen. When we took a closer inspection of our surroundings, Grum, Kyla and Archie found a small indentation in the wall next to us. Without a second thought, Teynos went ahead and pushed the button in. The rattling of chains was accompanied by a slow scraping sound from the tunnel behind us. And after a few heartbeats broke off. The water in the canal besides us ebbed away and left only a foul mud on the bottom of the gully. Alongside the other, still flowing, openings, Archies mechanical friend now spotted similar contraptions and with Grum’s help and a metallic glove that we had seen move on its own a few times now, Archie activated the shutters one by one. Soon, the continuous influx stopped and slowly the basin began to run dry, allowing us all a descent into the refuse that had collected at the bottom. With Voithos’ help, Archie investigated the pipe Grum had found earlier. At its end, light was visible and Voithos emerged on a cliff overlooking the Neverwinter River. Alongside the wall to its left and right, further such openings spewed forth more sewage. It became clear that we had found our way to a sediment basin within the sewers, nothing more, nothing less. And no traces of any inhabitation or magic anywhere. However, a brief rummaging through the sediment, a rather revolting job, we found a small clay container containing a pouch with some pinches of a dust of dryness, as Archie could explain, along with a bit of lost money. Disappointed, frustrated, tired and reeking we searched for another couple of hours through the sewers, noticing more than one trace of gelatinous cubes, fortunately without any confrontations. But no further rats, nor their wanted master were anywhere to be seen. When we finally emerged at the surface again, it was already close to midnight. I quickly took care of our smell. The streets were completely empty thanks to the continuous skirmishes throughout the day, only a few guards were making their rounds in the distance. As we had left a message for the flutist the day before, we decided to head to that same bridge before turning in for the night. When we approached there, a very dissonant, almost mocking melody was audible from the bridge head. As it had been my voice in the message, I was appointed to head forward and see what might be waiting for us. Filled with cold anxiety of what I might find, I slowly walked from shadow to shadow onto the ruined structure. And there, at the very end lay the small metallic box we had left a day ago, from it emerging the melody in an endless loop. The music stopped in the instant I picked up the contraption and my gaze fell on two enormous jet-black rats who were eyeing my every move. Behind them I thought to have seen another shadow moving. Overcome by a sudden gut feeling, I hissed in their direction that we were here to speak with their master. Hideous, shrill laughter filled my head, just as it had earlier in the morning. And a deep voice called out that we were no welcomed guests. If we were seeking to get the master’s approval, we must become carriers of the plague. And with that they turned and vanished into darkness. I felt a shudder, starting as a slow ripple between my horns, growing and creeping down my spine until it reached the point of my tail and I was shaking uncontrollably. The voice had not spoken in the common tongue. It was a language I had hoped to never hear again. The words sounded more like the hissing of snakes, occasionally broken with growling vowels. The infernal tongue of the nine hells had found its way into Neverwinter. Once I made it back to my friends, I told them what had transpired, just leaving out the miniscule detail of the language spoken. I was not keen on explaining how I came to know that language. But I am fairly certain, judging by his curious look, that Grum knew something else had happened on that bridge although he was kind enough to not speak up on it. Thus, we headed back to Anataea’s homestead. On the way I told the others I would take a small detour and see them in the morning. Under astonished and maybe slightly worrying looks, I set off through the sleeping city. The way over the roofs reminded me of another time, not necessarily more simple but definitely lonelier. And yet, strolling from chimney to chimney always had something calming, as if no one could touch me up here. The turmoil of the day left behind for but a brief moment of peace ‘ere the trouble and chaos that is life can catch up. Soon enough, I reached my destination, the narrow house I had only stared at just four nights ago. This time, I would not just watch. I unlocked and opened the kitchen window as silently as I could muster and climbed inside. The smell was still the same, the same, long dead plants on the table and an empty bottle in the corner. I placed the parchment roll with trembling hands next to the plant, weighing it down with three gold pieces. These verses might have been the hardest I have ever brought to paper. And they were destined to never be heard by anyone, they were only for her to read. After a brief pause, I climbed out the window again, shut and locked it behind me, went back to my new room at Anataea’s and fell into a restless sleep filled with rats and horrible whispers. The night was cut short once more as early on the next morning the noise of another attack shook us all awake. Luckily, the city guard were better prepared this time and handled the rodents. The same giant rat that had led the assault yesterday was standing at the back of her ranks once more but vanished as soon as we opened the door. We went back inside for breakfast, as we had had no chance to eat throughout our explorations on the day before. Kyla wondered how this creature was apparently able to cast spells while being in an animal shape, something that Grum for instance was unable to do. Archie chimed in and said he had read about shape changer who were said to work their magic in any form they chose. I added that I had heard some demons should be able to command certain powers so innately, they were not bound to the same laws of magic as other beings, to which Archie agreed and said that the same apparently would be true to a far lesser extend for certain races like tieflings. Indeed, I know that there are certain minor tricks I can conjure on occasion, but I try to use them as little as possible. After the meal, when everyone was going about their own business of getting ready for the day, I took Grum to the side. Of all the people in this fellowship of ours, I knew him the longest. I am still not sure about the others, but I knew I had to say something, especially after that knowing look last night. However, all reasoning could not diminish the fear of what might evolve from this conversation. And thus, after a moment of silence I began to speak with a trembling voice. He did not interrupt once, did not flinch or recoil as I had dreaded, he just sat and listened. And when I finished, he smiled. When we gathered again, Grum decided to go home to work on a ritual that might aid us in finding the alien entity behind the rat attacks, Nysqwen and Kyla wanted to head to the Lord’s alliance to search for assistance and Archie and I figured that the current events might justify visiting the Harpers earlier than agreed. With that thought, Archie finally got a chance to identify the clay disk we had found in the riddle box in Melissa’s house. After a brief inspection, he declared that this was a type of sending device, able to transmit messages over long distances. The counterpart, he mused, would most likely reside with whomever placed the disk in the box in the first place. However, we did not want our first interaction with our new allies to happen without any face behind the voice and made our way to the Twirling ally, accompanied by Teynos. Upon revealing the symbol, sister Garaele had given to us, the guards at the entrance of the surprisingly subtle house granted us entry into a great, yet completely empty entry hall. Multiple doors branched off from here and Teynos immediately went through the one straight ahead of us without waiting for us, the door falling shut behind him. Worried, Archie and I quickly followed through the same door and came into a room that made Archie literally stop mid-pace and drop his jaw. Rows upon rows of bookshelves were bathed in a pleasant, yellowish light. Silence hung like a thick cloak over everything, only broken by the occasional turning of a page and the fire crackling in a nearby fireplace. A young, human male was browsing through books, not taking note of our arrival. An older human woman was sorting heavy tomes. And no trace of Teynos anywhere! Silvery laughter emerged from a wing-backed chair next to the hearth and the female voice beckoned us to come closer. As we came around the chair, we faced a female gnome, clad in green traveller’s clothes. Her soft face was framed with laughter lines that perfectly matched her joyous attitude. She bade us take a seat in the accompanying chairs and introduced herself as Nissa Murnik. She told us the Harpers had been watching us from afar, yet she was curious what brought us in three days before the appointed meeting. We explained what we had witnessed over the last few days and nights, especially regarding our encounter with the flutist and stated our hypothesis that it might be a demon or fiend that was roaming the streets. Here, her former countenance shifted from generally curious and thoughtful to a keen look towards me and she asked what breed I personally thought our adversary belonged to. I couldn’t suppress a soft, humourless chuckle as I flashed the darkness of my eyes at her without Archie noticing and proclaimed, I was quite confident that we were dealing with denizens of the hells. Her smile returned as she nodded and leaned back in her chair. Nissa said, she had heard about something similar a long time ago, maybe the library would serve us well in these matters. The library is at the disposal of any faction member who wishes to acquire knowledge that may serve the faction’s goals. Archie’s eyes which previously had been fixed wistfully at the shelves around lit up at this comment, immediately he stated his desire to help and read through the books. Nissa laughed again, a soft, very warm sound and said, Tia, the librarian would be of aid with any knowledge we sought. However, as we were appointed to meet with our friends again to discuss our further proceedings and at this point were wondering where Teynos might be, we bade farewell with the intention to return as soon as possible to start our research. Nissa said, Teynos was fine and at a safe place but it would be good if we could take care of him. When we left the library through the same door through which we entered, still excited by what we just had heard, instead of the foyer we entered a reading room where an old man sat in a chair similar to the ones in the library, reading and smoking a fragrant pipe. Next to him. Teynos was bent forward over a small table upon which a number of matches were strewn in wild disarray. The man hardly looked up from his reading when we entered while Teynos claimed he had been looking for us but only been able to enter this room and the hallway. Shaking our heads, we took him by the hand and left to the foyer. There, Kyla and Nysqwen and Grum were already waiting for us. Unfortunately, the Lords’ Alliance had not been as forthcoming with their aid, but Kyla had heard about the library in the temple dedicated to Mystra and wanted to look for information there. I had never dared to enter this place. In the end, who would be comfortable with someone like me in a sacred place? Camp had been more accepting; she was always happy to speak with someone about the Mother of all Magic and I had enjoyed to listen to her teachings. Archie and I shared that we were convinced that by all the events that had transpired, the entity we were dealing with could only be a fiend. As we were the only ones with access to the Harpers’ library, we would continue searching through the books there while Nysqwen, Grum and Teynos wanted to go to the harbour to see if the help of a small adventuring troupe would be rewarded in coin and maybe to hear news regarding the Arielle. Thus, my young friend and myself made our way back in the faction house. Nissa was gone from the library, only Tia remained and asked us for what we might be interested in. She told us to take a seat while she would select appropriate books. Before we were entirely settled in, the first tomes were brought by a spectral hand and a tea set along with a plate with biscuits appeared on the table in front of us. Archie could hardly control himself, so excited was he by the perspective of spending the majority of the day just browsing through thousands of pages. He read in astonishing speed and still seemed to be able to recall all he had learned. On one occasion, he said he had found a book that spoke about the view of the nine hells in other cultures and how they were not seen everywhere as being entirely evil while not every god was revered as being purely good. Especially along the Dragon Coast and in a place named Calimshan, people seemed to be somewhat more liberal in that regard. This made me curious. Being faced with constant prejudices, I could hardly imagine what such a society would look like. Half-jokingly I said that it might be worth exploring these places then with our small group. Archie’s eyes widened and excited he exclaimed he would enjoy seeing more of the world and travel around with us. The honest joy that this perspective of not only not abandoning our group but rather seek further adventures together warmed my heart for the second time this day. Over the course of the following hours, we learned about Asmodeus as the prime ruler over the nine hells and lord of all devils. We found a book containing the names of the leaders of each individual layer, another talked about the types of devils inhabiting these. Amongst all the imps, spined devils, barbed devils, bone devils, pit fiends, chain devils, erinyes and lemurs, one began feeling small and insignificant. I had heard some stories of course of these fiends, mostly in relation to me being mistaken for one, but I never knew there were this many and that there was such structure amongst them. Knowing that there was an entire plane filled with entities that could eradicate Faerûn as we knew it if they set their mind to it was a horrifying thought. Furthermore, we learned that devils were able to summon one another, albeit only less powerful entities then themselves. Finally, we found a book that almost was falling apart. It was handwritten by a tiefling who had travelled the hells multiple times and documented his observations in a diary of sorts. Upon reading it mesmerised for a while, I came across a chapter talking about a creature that seemed to be akin to what we were faced with. The author did not seem to know a lot about it but the name “Lystramon” occurred multiple times. He spoke about numerous stories and legends in different cultures and religions that dealt with this being which usually was described as being surrounded by swarms of rats. As we could find no further details about this Lystramon, if that was its name, we thanked Tia for her help and made to leave the house of the Harpers. Initially we came back in the room where we had found Teynos previously. As we now tried to leave through one of the doors in the room, much to our surprise we entered the very same room from a different direction! It would have been too easy for an organisation like the Harpers to have a house built in a continuous space, I assume. It took us several minutes before we found that in thinking about an exit, we were finally able to leave into the foyer and from there were able to emerge back on the street. At the harbour, we met up with our friends in a tavern. They told us about a small fight they had had with more of these rats. The giant leader had been there too yet vanished into thin air once again before they could attempt to deal with him. Kyla said, she had gotten to know two priests in the temple of Mystra who had promised her as a fellow cleric to search their library for any books about devils, to which Archie and I added what we had found thus far. Teynos chimed in, stating that he was fairly certain that in the stories he had heard about flutists luring children there was some talk of this name as well. It therefore became more and more clear that this indeed might be who we were faced off against and that Lystramon was at least one name for this creature. At the harbour, Nysqwen, Grum and Teynos had found a notice board with several requests for aid. The items read: 1. Deal of a lifetime! I'm willing to trade a loveley tin pot, painted with cornflowers and lilies (and showing a few holes, true, but you can add a few and look at that, you have got a colander) for a cart. The cart needn't be big, can even be tiny, in fact, just so that two, or better four, people could fit in it, with ample room for bags and sacks, if possible. Could be old, long as it rides well and has new wheels, and strong axles, so actually probably nothing made longer than a year or two ago would do. Leave a message with Bohddie 2. Cleric needed - Daughter ill and dying. 3. Lyra our beloved mushrom forager, has not returned from the forest. Need help finding her. 4. MINIONS NEEDED - Local Lich looking for less than lawful Lackeys- References not required, no paladins. Full training and benefits given. Especially the last item caused some laughter amongst us, there certainly wouldn’t be a lich in Neverwinter, much less one that openly was looking for subordinates via a notice board! Right?! Teynos showed special interest in the offered tin pot for some reason. Archie said, a cart would be easily acquired or made by him, so if we so chose, the trade should be possible without issue. Kyla quickly proclaimed she was very interested in helping the sick daughter. And after having experienced her healing capabilities first-hand, it was obvious she would be the right one for the task. Plus, knowing her rather altruistic and kind nature, I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. And all of us agreed that we would be delighted to look for Lyra, all yearning for a chance to get out of the city once again and be in the wilderness together. After we finished our drinks, we made our way back to Anataea’s. Nysqwen and Kyla suddenly asked me if I was alright and that if there was anything, I wanted to speak up about they would gladly hear it. They said, and Archie nodded affirmative at this point, that they would not condemn me for anything, that we had grown to be friends and that there should be no trepidation over sharing anything. Kyla was still wondering what was going on with Anataea and the drow she had seen in her vision and the context of the scene. If the Raven Queen had sent her all this as a warning, she was concerned that Anataea would be hiding something vital or shady from all of us, something that ultimately could cause great harm and destruction. My thoughts were racing. After all that we had experienced and shared together, I was overjoyed that they shared my notion of friendship, but I feared they did not know what they were asking for. Especially with Kyla’s comment the other night I did not know what might happen if they knew, the last thing I wanted was for this blossoming friendship to wilt so soon in its infancy. Grum darted me a knowing look and said nothing. If they would be as understanding as he had been, this might be a chance but that was a big if. Thus, I faltered. I could not speak my mind, not without minutely planning my words. The fear overshadowed everything else. I explained what our current host meant to me, that she was my family. If I couldn’t have faith in her, there was no one else deserving that trust. I tried to answer all their questions as best I could whilst dodging the things, I was unable to speak about in my current state of mind. Still, I understood where Kyla was coming from and how important this was to her. Therefore, I promised to talk to Anataea once more and possibly see who this drow was and what her intentions were. This seemed to satisfy them for this evening and when I glanced at Grum I thought to recognise a slight nod in approval. But this was not the end of it. I will have to come clean with them, sooner rather than later. I just need to find the right words… I call myself a Bard, for heaven’s sake, and now my words are eluding me? I recognise the cruel irony… When we gathered for breakfast this morning, Grum had already left. He did not leave any note, and no one had seen him actually leave the house thus I was a bit worried for him. However, he knew how to take care of himself and it probably was just some job at his brewery. Firstly, we wanted to check at the temple of Mystra for the books that were promised to Kyla, before turning our attention to some of the requests we had come across yesterday. Although I was dreading what might wait at the temple, I also was excited to perhaps get a chance to visit this holy place. At least this time I wouldn’t be alone. Although I would have hoped that Camp was there when I went there for the first time. On our way through the city we noticed an increase in the skirmishes on all streets. The air was filed with thousands of squeaking voices, angry and painful shouts and the smell of blood. When we arrived at the temple, no one seemed to take notice of us at first as it was filled to the brim with wounded people of varying severity, many of them unconscious. Kyla immediately started to check on them, making sure they were stable, and their wounds were tended to. She noticed that all were injured and some of them carried a sickness, spreading from their bite and scratch wounds. Was that the plague, the rats had talked about? Regardless of its source, Kyla’s skill did not fail and minutely she drove out all infections, leaving us watching in awe. During her treatment, one of the priests she had talked to yesterday approached, a man named Bran. He confessed that among the growing stream of new patients, they had not been able to search for the requested books yet, but he greatly appreciated the help. He led Kyla to a small boy who had been more effected than most and it seemed to take her more effort than previously to calm his trembling body. Yet, she prevailed. Teynos and Nysqwen in the meantime started to help wherever their strength was needed, and Archie took it on himself to construct crutches and contraptions to help in the treatment. I did not know anything better, took a cross-legged seat on the ground in the centre of the forecourt and began playing what I hoped was a soothing tune. The soft melody slowly spread from the centre to fill the entire court, through open doors and windows and into the temple itself. Quiet as it was, while keeping my eyes closed, I noticed it driving out the all-encompassing painful moans, coughs and occasional cries and brought what little peace I was capable of to the place. After a while, Bran tapped me on the shoulder, a thankful look in his eyes. He asked if I was following my friend Kyla in her pledge to the Raven Queen and he should thank her to which I confessed of being closer to Mystra myself. He seemed pleasantly surprised by this revelation and offered to sit down and talk together once all the wounded were tended to and the situation on the city was calm again. I gladly accepted this invitation. Overall, this was very different from what I would have imagined my first encounter with a priest of this temple, far more pleasant. Should I take this as a sign for other things to come? Any further thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a screaming man, clutching his eyes. Streams of blood were welling between his fingers as he shouted, he could not see anymore. Kyla sharply exhaled, identifying the disease as sight rot, a condition where the patient would bleed from his eyes until going completely blind. And if untreated, there was no hope for this man’s vision. Bran said, he knew of just one herb, eye bright, that could be used to cure this disease with natural means. Other than that, only certain magic could stop the progress of the rot. Despite her feeling not entirely comfortable in calling upon her goddess in a foreign temple, Kyla gathered her strength once more and covered the man’s eyes with her hands. The symbol she was wearing around her neck emitted a faint glow as a bit of sweat gathered on her brow. When she took her palms away, the agonising screams had subsided, and the man opened his eyes. Framed in still wet blood, smudged by the hands, his eyes looked perfectly healthy. He began thanking her effusively which she acknowledged with a tired but satisfied smile. Bran said that if cases of this disease would be more frequent and Kyla was not around, he would be very grateful if we were able to bring him some of the mentioned herbs. Unfortunately, it is pretty rare and only grows in remote swamps and similar areas. Nevertheless, we quickly agreed to helping him with that. Conveniently for us, the search for Lyra would lead us in a similar direction anyway. Delighted he asked, if we would be willing to be on the lookout for a few other herbs as well, as we were already heading out, to which we had no objection. I must admit, I am really looking forward to this small adventure with my friends. And maybe all the walking will grant me some time to find the words I am looking for. Mystra, give me strength…

Investigations in the Dark
23rd of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The following day started off cooler than the previous ones, but quickly grew in heat. We set off towards the harbour once again, hoping for more information about or news from either the “Arielle” or the “Albatross”. With the docks, an imposing, three-masted barque came in sight, decorated with beautiful carvings and larger than any of the surrounding ships. Approaching two guards posted at her landing place, we came to know her as the “Sailor’s Yarn”. She sailed from Waterdeep, bringing with her the Lord Protector Dagult Neverember himself. Maybe he will bring some order into the mess with occupants in the north and this Baator-damned rift in the east. Upon our pleading, the guard hailed one of the sailors over, allowing further questions to be directed at him. The man unfortunately also did not have any further news from the south, having seen the “Albatross” but ten days ago, before she departed. However, he mentioned recent sightings of merfolk along the coastline, accumulating over the past couple of weeks. Usually this people tend to solitude and if encountered is shy but peaceful at best and indifferent at worst. Yet, there are tales of a more vicious folk roaming the northern shores of the west coast of Faerûn. Perhaps the lost ship had such an encounter along its travels, otherwise the man could not explain its delay. Still he made at least Nysqwen’s day, as he indeed knew of the “Unbending Willow” which still was out there and went with the tides. Finally, apparently there cannot be a visit to the harbour without finishing on the new favourite tale of every sailor, thus we sang our way to the tune of the “Fisher King” away from the docks. On our way to fetch Grum, Archie approached me. He came up with the idea that Voithos, his small, spider-like, construction, could sneak into the tent and under the cover of the last cage in the carnival if I could grant him invisibility for that period. The young genius had found an arcane way to somehow link the vision he had through his immense goggles to the one of Voithos, making him the ideal spy. I had no idea, if this would work as thus far, I only attempted to hide living creatures from sight. Archie however said, his companion was not merely a metal object, animated by some magic but rather inhabited by a fey spirit the boy had befriended with and stood in telepathic connection with. This idea intrigued me, and I gladly agreed to help with his plan, if it was within my power. Nysqwen took a detour at some point, as she wanted to speak to Amber once more and promised to catch up with us at the carnival. Arriving at the brewery, Tusnelda already rolled her eyes at our approach and sent someone to fetch Grum before we said a single word. The dwarf appeared with a broad smile on his face and a few intricately decorated tankards in his hands; each one filled to the brim with dark, lightly foaming beer. With an expansive gesture he placed two in front of his receptionist, declaring that this was not a day for sour faces but rather for celebration. Now the inscription became readable: “Merry Midsummer” was carved in swung letters over their upper half. Leaving the still grumbling lady behind, he turned and presented us with a handful of further tankards. The beer was unmistakably brewed by himself, a masterwork of brewery, strong yet not too bitter with a hint of fruity sweetness in the aftertaste. The perfect taste to describe this summer day. Thus invigorated, we proceeded towards the outskirts of Neverwinter. Being quite early, most of the other visitors were families or groups of children. At the entrance, Nysqwen indeed caught up with us, grinning even broader than Grum had earlier. Excitedly she told us that she had invited Amber to visit the Midsummer celebrations together with her and that she would pick up the blacksmith in the afternoon of the bespoke day. Good for her! Someone as hearty and sturdy as Amber might be a very good match for our dear dragonborn friend. And perhaps it was for the best that we did not get around to these lessons in charm, as Nysqwen being herself is probably the best and most honest way to approach a woman like Amber anyway. We immediately got in line to enter the tent containing their display of wonderous creatures. The tour this day was accompanied by pretty much the same words as on the day before, speaking to a rehearsed, thought out attraction. Kyla payed special attention to all exhibited cages, later informing us that only the harpies may indeed be real. The owlbear turned out to be merely a black bear, albeit a quite artistic one, the cockatrices were chickens, making the stone figure in the back not less unsettling, and the manticore turned out to be a rather old and tired lion. Still, I found the idea of having harmless attractions and disguising them for the entertainment of common folk rather appealing, as it prevents unnecessary danger to the visitors while providing a distraction from the sombre daily routine many of these people were facing, and my friends seemed to agree with this notion. The final cage still had a cloth draped over it and stood about three paces behind the harpies. While we waited outside, I already managed to enchant Voithos, who, as he later told us, left Archies shoulder on his command. A few heartbeats later we saw the cloth lifting briefly and then falling shut. After the tour, Archie told us that the cage only contained some bundled up pieces of clothing in the centre, resembling maybe a sleeping accommodation, a bucket in one corner that seemed to most likely be used as a privy but had not seen use in a couple of days, and some leftovers featuring human sized bite marks. In the wooden floorboards, a few grooves, as if from scratching were visible. Upon these revelations, Kyla turned to the guide and approached him by implying she would know about their illusory game and wondering what might have been up with the final cage. The greenish humanoid showed no concern towards her implications, realising that we were not interested in harming their business in any way and likely deciding that openness was the best defence against these inquiries. He said, the former inhabitant of the cage had been there on his own free will and had been a member of the carnival. Apparently, he possessed the ability to change his shape at will, thus being one of the highlights of their acts over this past year. Yet, in the last town they passed through, he decided he wanted to stay behind. Not really satisfied by his accounts but also not knowing how we might get more information out of him, we said our farewells and he wished us all the best for our further day on the carnival. Archie left the invisible Voithos behind to potentially figure out if the guide might be up to anything suspicious between tours – without success. Teynos suddenly came up with the idea of cross-referencing this story by perhaps speaking to one of the guards about the same questions. Unfortunately however, this only left us with the information that their last stop was in Leilon and did not explain why they would put up the cage if the inhabitant had left them this long ago. Still, it was a very good idea and to my shame, I have to admit that after what time I have spent in his company I would not necessarily have given him credit for making such intricate deductions from other beings’ behaviour. I really should know better at this point than judging others too quickly. Be more open minded, Morthos, or else you are no better than those judging you! For the rest of the day, we partook in the various activities the carnival had to offer. Grum registered for a pie-eating contest in the evening, Nysqwen went to throw balls through the gelatinous cube, in which she succeeded on the second attempt, winning a potion of the essence of the cube. Much to her chagrin however, she still did not manage to beat the high striker. Kyla and I stepped up to the target shooting range, where I managed to succeed on the first two distances while Kyla in a second round hit even the furthest target disk right in the centre. We both were awarded with a small rag doll for the first target, which will be a lovely gift for the children back at Anataea’s, a flask of a perfume of bewitching and Kyla was given a potion that Archie later identified as a potion of fire breathing. That reminds me, I should still have him take a look at those bolts we had found in the hill giant’s cave… Then it was time for the pie eating contest. Grum was facing five opponents, a feisty and two more slender humans, another dwarf and indeed one of the employees of the carnival. While the blueberry pie of the first round was downed by all participants, one of the humans seemed pretty filled already. A small scan of the crowd revealed what I can only assume would be his round of friends, who were laughing quite heavily at the sight of his face. Presumably, they pressured him into the competition, or he wanted to impress them. However, he managed to make it also through the apple pie of the second round while both other humans and, much to my surprise, the other dwarf were eliminated. After the third round and a tasty looking nut pie of sorts it finally was too much for him. Leaving for the fourth round only Grum and the green gentleman. Even without participating, my stomach turned in response to the somewhat strong-smelling meat pie that was served next. And mere two bites from the finish, Grum slumped in his chair, unable to continue. Somewhere from behind us a voice shouted, if Geniri could not stop from ousting the visitors in this competition, revealing the grinning gentleman to be our guide from the day before, unless they all were called Geniri for some reason. Grum took his loss quite well though, arguing that for the buy-in he at least got almost four very tasty pies. Finally, Teynos headed towards the fighting ring, eager to continue his rise among the challengers of the title. His opponent this day was a rather slender elf, taking in a professional fighting stance and seeming much more similar in style to Teynos than the bugbear. And indeed, the fight was quite a bit longer than the previous one with Teynos having a hard time for the most part in even hitting the elf. He, on the other hand, landed a few quite nasty punches. During the fight with the hill giant, it had not been that obvious due to its raw strength, but Teynos seemed to be not the most durable, if hit repeatedly. He relied on his quickness and ducking, yet if a punch found its mark, it quickly took its toll on the half-orc. It came to a point were for a heartbeat he almost looked as if he would go down. But something primal took over his gaze and with a loud roar he swung a hefty right hook at the elf’s temple, knocking him clear out. Thus, he won his fight, although by the width of a hair. On our way back to town, Kyla made a strange observation. Regardless of the street we were walking through, be they main and busy or narrow and dark, we did not encounter a single rat. The small rodents usually are omnipresent and as much part of the town as its smells, sounds and people. But at least at this very evening, none was visible. We all were clueless as to what might have caused that, in more than three decades I cannot remember a night where I would not have crossed the path of at least one. The evening suddenly grew darker, as large clouds rolled up – a thunderstorm was brewing over our heads. Following a hunch that it might be connected to Zanna, we hurried towards Melissa’s abode. Yet the young girl was already fast asleep and Melissa reassured us that she did not encounter anything too agitating throughout the day. I left the doll I won earlier with her though, maybe the young girl would find some joy in the gift. The first lightnings cracked around us while we were still on our way back to Anataea’s home and thus arrived soaking wet but unharmed. With the help of a few warming words I managed to prestidigitate most of the moisture from our clothes to allow for a good night’s rest. Once I was sure that my friends were sleeping, I made myself ready to head out once more to see if Chant was holding up through the very sudden shift of weather, knowing about the leaky roof in the kitchen. Yet, before I could leave an unfitting sound cut through the rumbling thunder. A flute. Somewhere in the city, not only was someone playing a rather enticing melody, it also managed to carry from a potentially soaked, wooden instrument through the storm outside. And it did not necessarily sound as if the artist was sitting right outside my window. I opened my door silently and saw Grum further down the hallway approaching. He heard the same melody as I. Quickly we made for waking up the others and after a brief explanation headed out to find the source of the sound. The music led us along the River towards one of the collapsed bridges that used to connect the Protector’s Enclave with Castle Never and the northern districts. At its broken end, only occasionally illuminated by lightning stood a five feet tall figure, hooded and cloaked. From the hood protruded a strangely elongated nose or snout, almost like a small trunk at the end of which the figure held a flute and played her strange, unfamiliar melody. Soaked, tense and bewildered, it was an unpleasant sight that between us and the creature hundreds, if not thousands of rats were swarming, their attention dedicated singly to the figure at the end of the bridge. Grum slipped on one of the wet and mossy cobblestones of the untended ruin, cursing under his breath. Yet the small sound was enough. The head of the strange being turned briefly towards us, before the creature vanished from sight. The rats surrounding us fell into chaotic squeaking and ran away to all sides, vanishing in the timespan of a few heartbeats. We quickly ran towards where the figure had stood but found no traces leaving from there. While it was possible that it had jumped into the river below, there was no way for us to see anything down there at this hour, especially with the dreadful weather. I tried to repeat what little I had heard from the piece that had been played on my pan flute, but to no avail. We mused if this stranger might have been the changeling that belonged to the carnival. Teynos interposed that he had heard stories about flute players who would lure children and kidnap them, others would perform similar acts as the one we had witnessed. These players usually were seen as demons or devils and all the stories had very much sounded like fiction to him. At his remark about devils, Kyla chuckled and said that if it was a devil, I should know about these things. While it was probably meant in a joking manner, that hit deep. I will never escape this hellish heritage, no matter where I run or who I interact with. It made me doubt my thoughts about opening up. What will happen if they know the truth? I cannot afford to lose them. Not my closest friends. Not again and not after whatever happened to Vivis, Camp and all the others. Archie rummaged around in his pouch and presented us with a small metallic contraption. This device was able to store a spoken message, up to six heartbeats in length, and repeat it to whoever finds the apparatus. Thus, I offered to the stranger to meet with us in the same place in the following night, if he was interested in talking. As it was still raining and by now far past midnight, we had nothing left than to head back and hopefully still find some sleep this night. While falling asleep turned out to be no issue, We were woken very early this morning, probably not more than three hours into our slumber, by what sounded like hell breaking loose on the street in front of the house. A quick glimpse through the window revealed the horrific sight of hundreds of small rats, accompanied by a few larger ones running through the street, biting passing citizens and plundering our and the surrounding houses for food. We grabbed our belongings as quickly as possible, stormed down and out the front door to face the incoming flood of rats. I’ll be even more damned if there is no correlation between last night and this turmoil. Anataea and Nal were already busy driving the rats from our building; a silent nod confirmed that it would be our task to face the rest. A few paces down the alleyway, a sea of black and brown bodies between us, a grotesquely huge, black rat was standing, seemingly directing the others and upon our arrival fixing its gaze on us. Kyla immediately conjured a swarm of crows, formed of blindingly bright light around herself that annihilated any rodent that came into her vicinity. Archie busted out Ori, who extended a shining brass barrel spewing fire on the animals around us. His first priority was a cluster of rats that currently were dragging and biting a man down in the centre of the street. In an attempt to perhaps catch what the rats were up to, Grum turned himself into a giant rat and ran off towards the still staring black one. Nysqwen drew forth her glaive and swung it in deadly arches, cleaving through bodies left and right, while Teynos almost seemed to enjoy punching and kicking rodents through the air in a flurry of moving limbs. The best idea I had to counter this assault was to try once more the tune we heard last night on my dear old pan flute. Yet, with the lack of sleep and the disconcerting vista in front of us, I realised myself that I was not doing a very good job in replicating the notes. If that was the problem or something else entirely, I do not know, however, it did not help in any way shape or form. Rather, after angrily shoving the instrument away, an unsettling laughter filled my head, and I felt the attention of the apparent leader of the rats shift towards myself. After getting hit quite devastatingly with Kyla’s spiritual weapon, the black rat disappeared into thin air. Any sleep-deprived and desperate thoughts of this maybe being just a coincidence were wiped out now at the latest. After Grum reverted back to his dwarven self, he casted a beam of pure moonlight among the larger rats that previously surrounded the leader and changed into a hyena. Amongst the six of us, it took less than a minute to rid the surrounding streets of the remaining rats. A final one, however, Grum caught between his teeth and carried inside. We found a box to set it prisoner, while Nysqwen took some time to attune with a more animalistic side within her. Her eyes glowed up in a similar white as was visible when she went into her raged fighting state of mind and when she spoke next, it was a weird mixture between her normal voice and the squeaking of a rat. She very quickly realised, how limited the mind of the small rodent was, however. All she could gather from our captive was that they had come from the sewer system under the city and that the black rat was responsible for enlarging some of her kin and rallying them to hunt for food in this part of town this morning. We decided to keep her in her box for now, as she might be able to later on lead us to wherever the black rat might gather the swarms within the sewers. Still exhausted from the lack of sleep and the encounter on the street, we decided to just go back to bed, hopefully rest and continue our investigations in the afternoon or early evening. I just quickly spoke to Anataea, describing our discoveries of last night and our fear that this was connected to the endris battle at our doorstep. She nodded thoughtfully, assuring me that she would see what she might find out in this regard. Seeing the exhaustion written on my face, she left me to my rest with a soft smile. Now, lying in my bed I cannot get this melody out of my head. Just what is this creature up to? Let’s deal with this first, before I think about how to tell them.

Midsummer Carnival
21st of Flamerule, 1481 DR

After a hearty breakfast served by Bor and Tana, we made our way back to town to pick up Grum and Archie. After catching up with their respective duties, they seemed rather eager to escape their work and figure out what we wanted to do next. After Archie finished explaining the intricacies of a novel self-heating water kettle he had devised to his master, an impressive feat, to which the old dwarf did not seem to pay too much mind, he explained it would be time to go to mistress Amber to fetch the armour he had commissioned. And indeed, once we arrived at her forge, she presented us with a well-crafted set of shining half plate armour, which fits Archie like a second skin. As he proceeded to pay for her services, Nysqwen approached her with what with some good will might be considered flirting. It was hard to tell whether she intended for something more serious than with Fesur, as apparently, she had already tried to beguile Amber when last she was at her forge. Anyway, what my dear friend possesses in strength and kindness, she unfortunately lacks in the more subtle arts of charm. Luckily for her, the smith did not seem too appalled by her somewhat clumsy words. Maybe she might get lucky if she continues her advances. Once we were out of earshot of the smithy however, Nysqwen turned to me and asked if I might help her with some flirting tricks. I have no idea, what made her believe I would be any good at that and the thought stung more than it should have. Some experiences just won’t stay buried… Baffled, I agreed to her request, yet I don’t know if I would really be the one, she should ask about these things. As two days had elapsed since last we spoke with master Merreck Proudfoot, we next made our way to his alchemy shop to retrieve our ordered potions. Upon entering the small, crammed house, a green flash and smoke emerged from behind the counter, followed by a somewhat disappointed curse of a familiar voice. Master Proudfoot’s experiments still did not seem to yield whatever results he hoped for. When he noticed us, his merry expression returned to his face and gladly he produced the promised potions, for which we thanked him and payed as was agreed. But where to go from here? What was there for us to explore? I began to feel that everyone around was overcome by a similar trepidation I feel at the thought of leaving our small group. Between us had emerged a trust and a friendship that was stronger than almost anything I have ever known, the exception being Cor. Quickly, Archie mentioned a certain dragon that was still roaming through Thundertree. Kyla agreed that we should be able to take the beast with our combined strength if we just got our planning right. I still am not convinced that we would not plainly all end up in his stomach and Grum seemed to share my reservations. If this is where our path is leading us, I will stand with my friends, but I have my doubts if we are ready to face such a foe. At the very least we will put in some research before we head out to battle him. At this point, Merreck cleared his throat behind us and chimed in that he might have some use for the poisonous glands of a green dragon. In our conversation, we had completely forgotten about the halfling or the fact that we were still standing in his shop! Assuring him to bring anything of alchemical use that we will encounter to him, we bade our farewell and set out into the midday sun. Traversing one of the central marketplaces of Neverwinter, we encountered a barker, promoting the annual midsummer carnival. From now until the midsummer feast in ten days, the carnival would provide entertainment and wonder to all who would seek it out. Excited, we immediately decided to go there, after Nysqwen reported the success of our mission back to her faction. Upon her return, she exuded quite a bit of pride and imparted to us that she had been promoted within her ranks for her duties towards the goals of the Lords’ Alliance. With even more reason to celebrate, we made our way towards the carnival. The closer we got the more people were around us. And soon enough, a gigantic, colourful tent came into view with a big sign displaying the name “MIDSUMMER CARNIVAL”, the illusion of a meteor drawing circles around the letters. At the entrance, a humanoid creature with pointy ears, a bony statue, silver hair and conspicuously green skin welcomed us to the festivities. His neck was adorned with a chain, on which a metal eye seemed to be affixed that followed our every movement. These people have run the carnival for as long as I can remember and thus no one seemed to question who or what they were. Throughout the area wandered more of these creatures, friendly and helpful towards the visitors, yet ever vigilant. A variety of booths and small shops were scattered throughout the carnival, while in the back another tent was placed, which featured a sign displaying “The Bewildering And The Strange”. And thus, we delved into the amusement that is a carnival. Kyla, Nysqwen and Teynos hurried to a high striker on first sight, the rest of us trailing behind. While their ambitions were great, none of them managed to actually succeed in ringing the bell. Quickly forgetting their defeat, we turned to a booth selling exotic snacks, from which we purchased roasted spider legs and what was advertised as eldritch tentacles. The former had a quite pleasant taste to them, while the latter disappointingly turned out to be merely overpriced squid tentacles. As a performer myself, I know how difficult it is to make a living from such ventures, thus I knew better than to blame the vendor for his exploits. Yet, I took a mental note to be more careful as to what I would spend money on in here. With the food in our hands, we took some time to take a closer look as to what was offered around us. Apart from more exotic traders, multiple games were offered for the visitors. We saw a fighting ring, an area for target shooting, a pie eating contest and a throwing game, in which one was supposed to throw a wooden ball through a gelatinous cube, disturbingly similar to the one we had fought in the mines near Phandalin. Spectators who did not partake in such games, could marvel at jugglers, using everything from your common balls over knifes to small furniture and random objects, some of which were set on fire, sword swallowers whose throats were bulging with more than a dozen simultaneously inserted blades and a knife thrower. Everything was underlined with joyful music. Magically enhanced from one corner, and the shouts of joy, awe and fear of the visitors. A closer inspection by Archie revealed quite a few magic tricks being used to create illusions of more swords or juggling objects than were present in reality. But who can blame a performer trying to impress an audience? And the skill of concentrating on and interacting with the illusions still ascribed a vast talent to the carnival crew. I know full well how difficult it can be to maintain a convincing illusion for any extended period of time. As we passed by the knife thrower, he was just finishing a routine of blindly throwing his blades at a rotating disk on which a volunteer had been fastened and called out for another brave soul to be strapped to the wooden contraption. ‘Ere we had a chance to interfere, Teynos had risen his hand with a broad smile and stepped towards the grinning thrower. While our new companion was secured, the performer stepped towards a flustered Archie and, still grinning, ushered him to assume the responsibility of throwing the knives. After an initial moment of hesitation, we offered our young friend words of guidance and inspiration, in hopes to guide his hands in handling the sharp blades. In what would have been unimaginable just a few weeks ago, the lad collected his courage and stepped forwards in the centre of the watching crowd. He gripped the first knife with a sure grip and as the disk with Teynos began spinning, he threw blade after blade with astonishing accuracy around the half-orc. The crowd burst into cheers and Teynos into an even broader grin. The show master congratulated Archie to his feat and said now would be the time for the second level. With these words, he produced a blindfold seemingly out of nowhere and with fast movements covered Archie’s eyes. This time, his hands trembled visibly more when he gripped the knife put into his hand. From where I stood, I could hear him mutter under his breath some kind of calculation, before his hand moved over his shoulder and in one motion propelled the knife right towards the Teynos’s face. The rotational speed of the disk was just enough to bring him out of harms way, as the point buried itself into the wood only a hairs breadth from his cheek. The crowd exploded. And Archie ripped the blindfold away to reassure himself he had not just killed a man we only met two days prior. Relieved, he returned to us, where each of us greeted him with congratulations and acknowledgement and, in the case of Nysqwen, a heartfelt hug. Now it drew the two largest members of our party towards the fighting ring. There we were informed that weapons and magic were prohibited from the competition, it would be a fight with bare fists. The reigning champion was announced under the name Gravebringer, yet to face him, one first had to prove oneself in a few rounds of combat. Teynos was the first of our group to enter the ring, but he left his newly acquired pants with us, as he did not want to damage them already. The half-orc in loincloth was faced with a hulking bugbear, waking unpleasant memories of one of our very first fights as a group. Still, we placed our bets on our new friend, keeping in mind how he fared with a hill giant yesterday. In less than twenty heartbeats, the hairy creature was unconscious on the floor, with Teynos, beaten, bruised and breathing heavily, hunched over him. Kyla offered her healing powers to him, which he gladly accepted. But still, he was visibly exhausted from this skirmish, any further rounds for him would have to wait until the morrow. Kyla trailed off, intending to heal the bugbear as well. He was handed to the care of his seeming servant, a very familiar goblin. Droop seemed none to pleased to see us again, yet this time none of us meant each other any harm. The recovered bugbear and Teynos paid their respects to each other and acknowledged a good fight. Now it was Nysqwen’s turn. Her opponent turned out to be a hulking human man, his shoulders broader than even hers, a grin exposing broken teeth. The man, Grog as the announcer called him, silently stepped into the ring, eagerly awaiting our dragonborn friend. Begrudgingly, she left her heavy glaive with us and went off to face him. Where in the first fight, Teynos was facing brutal hits which he countered with unbelievable speed, this was a meeting of two muscle packed and raging individuals, beating the ever-living shit out of each other. Of course, our money was on our friend. But, before long it became clear that what proficiency Nysqwen displayed in the encounters we had thus far was based on her familiarity with a weapon in both hands. While this Grog seemed to be steeled for nothing else but the bare fisted fight in such arenas. And so, we had to watch our friend slowly losing ground. Soon enough it became too much to bear for Kyla, who tried to hide a soft glow emanating from her holy symbol as she tried to stealthily heal the dragonborn. Unfortunately, her meddling was detected by some of the surrounding personnel, who interfered and disqualified Nysqwen for use of unsanctioned means. She returned to us in pretty bad shape but thanked Kyla for her attempted aid. She understood that she probably would have lost anyway and knowing your friends have your back in a pinch is worth more than keeping one’s honour and going to the ground. Leaving the fighting grounds behind, we finally turned our attention towards the second tent. At its entrance we were greeted by another of the strange folk running the carnival who introduced himself as Geniri. He offered us a guided tour through their menagerie of exotic wild beasts. Accepting this offer, we followed him inside the tent, in which the sounds of the exterior seemed more muffled than pure fabric walls should be able to accomplish. He led us to a first cage which was inhabited by a large owlbear featuring purplish-white feathers and green eyes. On Geniri’s command, the creature named Timber went into a handstand, which he acknowledged by rewarding the beast with a sliver of meat. The second cage contained five creatures the size of small horses. They had grey, leathery skin, were covered in spikes, bipedal and with two wings similar to bats. These cockatrices were attributed the capability to petrify people by merely scraping them with their claws, an unlucky alleged example of which was standing behind the cage. Geniri in a very melodramatic fashion expressed his condolences to the poor figure. Next up was a manticore, a monster with the body of a large lion, dragon-like wings and a humanoid head. We were warned to keep away from the cage, as supposedly the beast had killed an all too curious visitor once. Then Geniri led us to the gigantic central cage. With words of warning he bade us to step back as he drew away the cover with a quick motion to reveal an enormous red dragon. A deafening roar emerged from the cage and suddenly everything was drowned in blazing flames. Upon realising that we were not in the process of being burned alive, we saw Geniri, sweat on his brow, seemingly containing the flames with some form of magical barrier within the cage. Fully aware of what we had encountered thus far and how stupidly dangerous holding a dragon captive would be, I brushed the warnings aside and took a closer inspection of the cage. And indeed, knowing what I had to look for, the illusion became translucent and I could see a small flying snake, chained to the much too large cage seemingly having a blast in scaring visitors. Once more resisting the notion to expose the magical trickery, I understood the value of presenting townsfolk with a harmless spectacle. And all else in this tent seemed real enough. After a few moments, Geniri dropped the curtain back around the cage and led us to the final exhibit, a cage with three creatures with humanoid, naked female bodies, talons and feathered wings, two in dark, one in white coloration. The latter had her unbroken gaze fixed on our guide. All three were sitting in silence as, how Geniri explained, their songs tended to bring much dismay to those who would hear them. Thus ended our tour through the bewildering and the strange and we returned to the main festival grounds. Only much later we realised that there was one more cage within the tent, which Geniri had failed to show to us. For now however, we strolled further through the carnival. Teynos suddenly stopped in his step as a cloud of smoke, shaped like a dragon drifted by him. He quickly recognised its origin in a booth selling magical pipes. The vendor explained to him that each pipe was capable of producing a different shape in its smoke. While he browsed through the wares, the rest of our group temporarily split up to hunt after varying purchases. Archie showed some interest in firecrackers and small glowing sticks, Kyla and Nysqwen set off to find themselves masks and Grum found a merchant selling awakened shrubs, similar to the little tree folk we had encountered in Thundertree. He was rather enamoured by the idea of growing himself a small, plant-like familiar. After strolling around for a bit, I found Teynos sitting by himself, delighted by the smoky dragons drifting from one of his newly acquired pipes. Following an impulse, I closed my eyes and focussed while whispering to the small clouds and encouraging them to attack each other. The half-orc seemed quite happy with this new spectacle and quickly offered me the other pipe which was said to evoke smoky ships. And before long, we had a veritable naval battle going, mighty dragons attacking large ships who tried to defend themselves best as they could with gigantic harpoons. As I looked around, I saw that a fair amount of people had taken notice of our display and were cheering for different sides of the fight. And even more to my delight, some of the other performers started to join in, some using multiple pipes to produce more participants, others aiding my magical directing of the combatants. The skirmish grew into a proper fight and then into a proper war that filled a large space within the tent, high enough to allow a good view for everyone around. The battle went on and on, the tides turning multiple times, until finally, only one ship was left, and the last dragon dissipated, mortally wounded. Applause as I haven’t heard in a long time branded from the people around, almost every visitor was watching at this point. All performers bowed deeply to our spectators and we couldn’t help but childishly grin at each other in face of such a reaction. After the crowd dispersed somewhat, a broadly smiling merchant approached me and kindly offered one of his pipes for free, as this display was better advertisement than he could have hoped for. I gladly accepted and thinking about my dear friend, I chose a pipe producing a dire wolf. Kyla had in the meantime managed to find a mask in the shape of a raven face, while Nysqwen had found a very glamorous green-golden face mask. My friends went off now, to find us all a proper dinner while I found a quiet place in a corner. The more I think about it, the more I wonder what the last, unseen cage might contain, or maybe worse, might no longer contain? Maybe we will have to investigate this circumstance a little bit. Regardless, this day just proves once more how glad I have to count myself to have such friends. After being alone for a very long time, apart from Cor and mainly Anataea, the joy and bliss resulting from our shared experiences are more than I could have ever hoped for. I can only hope and pray that they are filled with a similar sentiment and that our paths remain intertwined, regardless of what the future may hold.

Riddles and New Friends
20th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

After finishing our lunch, the five of us made our way east of the wall in the direction of the ominous chasm cleaving through the city. Easily enough we found our way through the familiar streets of the worn-down district. The Beggar’s Nest had always been the stuff of cautionary tales to scare children, but with the opening it grew too dark for even such stories. This is the home of those who cannot afford anything else- and those who are escaping the law. Thus, it was with much caution that we proceeded towards the open plaza, which according to Nysqwen’s memory was pointed out as being the epicentre of the lightning occurrences. As with the rest of this district, the buildings lining the streets here were crumpled, crooked and dark at best and utter piles of rubble at worst. Everyone but Kyla was taken by great unease, being this close to the damned chasm. She rather went ahead and without a second thought began dealing silver pieces to each dubious beggar sitting around the streets. Remarkable! Such innocence and kindness might well be interpreted as naivety or even ignorance by someone who does not know her. Yet after our time of travel, I am rather sure that she simply puts her service towards others above all else to make Faerûn a better place. She uttered her confusion and frustration as to why people were simply dropped by society and had to resort to begging or worse to make a living. It was a concept she had not encountered in the convent in which she was trained. After a small bribe, well picked words and a little help of Mystra’s gift, we managed to convince a man called Herbert to tell us about any happenings around this square. Apparently, a former store was owned by a woman he had heard of as Martha but closed since the chasm opened. Yet, now and then some strange folk seems to wander in and out of the house. Not two days ago, Herbert had noticed two hooded figures heading in the house early in the morning. On the lapel of one of the two, he caught a glimpse of a small silvery harp – the sign of the harpers. Since this was our best bet, we approached the building with its barred windows after thanking the beggar for his information with two further silver pieces. Upon knocking repeatedly and calling for Martha, the thin, female voice of a child told us Martha was not there and that she was not allowed to open the door to strangers. She introduced herself as Zanna. When I mentioned my name, her tone immediately changed. I have heard this mixture of fear and disdain too often to hold up any kind of hope she would continue speaking to us or even letting us in. Yet to hear it from someone that young hurt deeper than I had expected at this point. This unfortunately left us nothing but to await the return of the woman known as Martha. We withdrew to the corner of the square from which we would not lose sight of Martha’s shop. Suddenly, lightning cracked from the sky and into the street next to us. Yet no thunder accompanied it. We ran to the place of impact only to find an ordinary charred patch in the street, where the electricity had melted some lose earth. A few paces south, the street abruptly ended as the chasm opened up at this point. Heading over there however, gave us no new clues, nothing around here was stranger than usual. And with sharp whispers from within the crack and something that looked like an approaching tentacle formed from pure darkness, we quickly backed away. We could see further lightnings now shooting in the vicinity. Grum and Archie developed a bold idea: they wanted to get a closer look at the origin of the phenomena. Thus, Archie affixed a small device at Grum’s boots and with a strange clicking and humming sound, our dwarven friend levitated into the sky. And very quickly we learned that it is a very fine line between bold and stupid. For the next lightning cracked right in Grum’s elevated body. With a cry of pain and shock he fell to the ground as Archie lost control over the spell and crashed hard into the street. Immediately, I ran up to him, kneeled at his side and felt for the pulse of my old companion. I panicked, when I did not feel anything. And just before I could call out for Kyla, there was a strong current of blood passing through the vein beneath my finger. I froze. And then: another one. Incredibly slowly, but steady and powerful. Grum opened his eyes and grumbled into his beard that he felt like kicked by a horse. But the sturdy dwarf righted himself and admitted to this perhaps being not his best plan. He was determined to continue this investigation, however he winced at every movement. Thus, Archie offered to take him back to his brewery to recover properly. The poor boy himself was quite pale after the experience. I am just glad that nothing worse happened to anybody. Some time passed, before a plainly dressed woman with long, brown hair hurried to Martha’s shop. I recognised her as Melissa, a kind soul who used to occasionally come to visit Anataea as she cared for homeless children in a similar fashion. After multiple knocks she opened, a short flash of recognition on her face. She indeed revealed herself as a member of the Harpers organisation and told us, that Zanna was the one, who started calling her Martha for some reason. And upon us stating our business, she explained that the small girl indeed seemed to be the origin of the lightning events! She apparently arrived on one of the last ships, no parents with her and the guards were the first to witness her magical potential. From there on, they entrusted Zanna to Melissa who cared for her since. Rumours told that one of her parents was a powerful wizard from the eastern lands. Kyla mentioned that her seemingly uncontrolled displays of magic might be caused by some form of psychic stress. We promised to keep an eye out at the harbour for the ship or such a wizard to find a way to help the girl with her powers. Melissa sent us upstairs as we asked about Nissa, who we were still wanting to meet, and told us we would find there what we were looking for. After a moment of investigating the five doors on the second level, Kyla found a minute harp engraved on the hinges of one of the doors. The room behind was completely empty except for another door on the opposite side. Within the wood, five settings were placed, two of which held small gems, one red and one orange. Beside the door were three more of these jewels, a yellow, a pink and a purple one. And, obviously, the door was locked. While I was still looking for a keyhole on the door, Kyla and Nysqwen rather took a look at the colourful contraption. They tried various combinations of colour patterns with the gems in the frames, but to no avail. In frustration, rather than anything else, Kyla finally removed all jewels from their settings. Something clicked in the door. And it swung open. If this was some test, devised by the Harpers to identify the potential of new candidates, I failed miserably here. If only Archie would have been there… He for sure would have known what to do right from the start. Behind the riddle-door, a very small room opened up. The only piece of furniture present was a very intricate box. On its top, an array of seven by seven gears was protruding from the lid. Next to the box lay a circular chain on the ground, its links just large enough to fit on the teeth of the gears. And on its side was a wooden crank. At a closer inspection, small numbers became visible on some of the metal gears, ranging between zero and three. While we quickly came to the conclusion to the principle of this second riddle, it took us an embarrassingly long time to finally find the pattern in which the chain had to be placed around the gears to allow the crank to be turned and the box to open up. At least I solved this myself, maybe I am not entirely unworthy of joining this organisation in the end. But again, I feel this would be something, Archie would truly shine in. Within the box we found only a small card with the image of a badger. On its back side however was written “Twirling Alley 1, 27th of Flamerule”. Thus, we had a place and a time for when to meet up with what I can only assume will be Nissa. Well, the Harpers certainly could have chosen worse areas to settle down, but also more low-key ones… When inspecting the chest and the room for further secrets of the faction, I noticed that the box had a false floor. Once pried open, a small clay disk was discovered. It featured a face, depicted as if speaking. We had no idea what this might be for or what to do with it. So, we took it with us for now, maybe Grum or Archie will know anything about it. Finally, we made our way back to the harbour to gather some information about the little Zanna. On our way there, when we were about to enter the protector’s enclave through the south-eastern gate, a strangely out-of-place looking half-orc was watching the lively hustle and bustle of folk traveling in and out of Neverwinter. His green skin was clearly visible as he wore nothing but a simple loincloth. He did seem oblivious to the watchful eyes of the guards, who these days are suspicious towards anything only remotely related to the occupants of the northern part of the city. When thinking about it, we realised that this guy actually had been standing there already when we left the city this way earlier this day. Knowing full well that I would draw the guards’ attention myself, I could not resist the urge to stand next to him and wonder loudly what he was doing here watching all these people. He introduced himself as Teynos, a monk of a close-by monastery. He said that after his mother abandoned him there, he had not seen much of the world and was intending to change that. While he was very open and forthright in his replies and seemed genuinely baffled by the mere passing of people through a gate, his full intentions were hard to gauge. While seeming simple of mind, I am still not sure how much of this might just be a façade. Teynos expressed his desire to enter the city yet explained that the guards previously were unwilling to grant him passage. He did not understand why everybody else seemed to have no issues with this whatsoever and could make nothing of their comments that his outfit would be inappropriate. I have experienced enough discrimination based purely on outward appearance. Therefore, we decided to take him with us. And sure enough, the guards would let him pass in our company if we swore to take responsibility for him and see to give him proper clothing. As we entered, the half-orc flicked some coins to the beggars in front of the gate from his seemingly very small pouch. I suspect, he and Kyla will get along quite well in their shared belief in just distribution of wealth. Although if he keeps giving so freely, he might have to learn the hard way that you don’t get very far in the world without money… After we purchased a pair of trousers for Teynos, we made our way to the coast, avoiding very crowded streets to not raise alarm by some of the more easily scared people at the sight of a half-orc. Once there however, we found ourselves in good company as the harbour featured people from every race, profession and origin imaginable. It is a noisy place, smelling of fish, wet wood and salt water. Nysqwen felt right at home. We went straight to the dock master, who told us that the captain of the “Arielle” had reported strange lightning phenomena on their last trip. Unfortunately, the ship had left Neverwinter this very morning towards Waterdeep, from whence it came. He ensured us however, that she should be back within a few days, maybe a week. With this information, we decided to have a further look around the docks and see if we might find some talkative sailors. We had not to look far for a bunch of men of different races playing a game of “Jacks and a King”. Gladly, I joined in, followed by Teynos who visibly was excited by the presence of another half-orc in the round. With the game going for a few rounds, the men warmed up to our presence and were willing to share the latest sailor’s yarn with us. They told us that business was going well with the end of the winter storms from the north, bringing with them the cold breath of the Icewind Dale. This was followed by the usual tales of new reports of sightings of the kraken, arguments over the fastest ships and other tales. A new song recently has made its rounds, telling of a fisher king who managed to singlehandedly catch a twelve paces long fish with nine eyes in the midst of a harsh storm. While sounding hard to believe, I gladly adopted this new piece and amused the gathered bunch with multiple renditions of the song to which they sang fervently and terribly flat. Nysqwen learned, the name of the captain we were looking for was Alwin Oneshoe, who regularly travelled along the coast as far south as Baldur’s Gate. He would return within the next two weeks. But none of the people had heard anything about a little girl summoning lightning through sheer willpower. With nothing more to accomplish there, we left the harbour just as an errant boy ran into Nysqwen. He came with a message from a master Khalid, whom she was required to meet in the Twirling Alley. She and Kyla went there, while I went home, Zeynos still trailing behind. This most likely would be his best option for a night in this city. As we arrived at Anataea’s, we were greeted by a wide-eyed Sven. He immediately took to questioning poor Zeynos about every aspect of life. The young orc finally had found someone to talk to about racial discrimination and how our new guest was coping with the issue. As dusk was already at hand, I quickly departed to fulfil my promise to Anataea. The handholds in the back alley were still where I left them, the climb to the rooftops as familiar as walking the streets of the city, perhaps even more. Across from her window, I found a position to lean against a chimney and take in the tiny room. In the light of a single candle, Chant was mending her light green dress, another patch on the hole-riddled piece of clothing. The only difference to my last visit was the absence of the otherwise ever-present bottle. And while she was working, the old tune she hummed took me back to simpler times while my stomach turned. I closed my eyes, sunk against the stone at my back… I did not even notice her stop and snuff out the candle. I sat there long after she went to bed, long after all other sounds of the surrounding city faded. Time flew by unnoticed. Yet I dared not approach. Not yet. When I came back, Teynos and Sven were still talking. It gladdened me to hear their happy voices, exchanging stories and experiences. And before long, I fell asleep. This morning, we were all woken by the children shouting in play through the house. Teynos had already helped preparing breakfast and Kyla and Nysqwen appeared shortly after myself. Master Khalid as a member of the Lords’ Alliance had entrusted Nysqwen with a small quest for their faction, to which she was welcomed to take her allies with. A small farming community in the east was having trouble with nightly disappearances of cattle and so far, no one had cared to look into the matter. Teynos offered to accompany us as we were his best bet to see something of the world. When we stopped by, Archie and Grum respectively had to decline the small trip, as they were busy with their work. When we arrived Nysqwen immediately started asking around for master and mistress Kulinov, the foreman and forewoman in charge of the six farms. Soon, a young woman pointed us in the direction of one of the buildings where we met the burly, brown haired and bearded man. He introduced himself as Bor and his wife as Tana, both of them were rather agitated over the recent events and said it was about time that someone would deal with this problem. Since almost a fortnight, every night there was the sound of crashing wood at one of the farms and the next morning one or two cows or a handful of sheep were missing. With his consent, we set out to the farm of the most recent victim to inspect the area for any helpful tracks. We did not have to search for long. Footprints almost the size of one of us were leading in gigantic steps to and from the back side of the paddock, the wood splintered at the point of entry. Nysqwen said this would most remind her of storm giants, yet they were not native to this area. Else, the city would have much worse problems for quite some time. From the back, suddenly Teynos mused that there indeed used to live hill giants in these parts. They were known to travel the lands on the constant search for new food sources. For all his unfamiliarity with social conduct, he apparently had spent copious amounts of time in his monastery between books. I cannot wait to properly introduce him to Archie! They will be getting along great. The steps were leading away further into the east, accompanied by much smaller but still relatively large paw prints. This giant seemed to have a pet dire wolf. We followed the trail which cut straight through the surrounding forest, the giant seemed to have found it easier to walk through trees instead of around them. As we left the woods, we came face to face with a large cave, from which as if in greeting a large boulder came flying straight towards Teynos. Faster than I had thought humanly possible, he dodged to one side, avoiding the brunt of the hit and getting away with a few minor bruises. And with that, combat had begun. Within the cave, a massive shape moved about, grotesquely long arms, as thick as me grabbing for the next rock. The malformed grin contorted in what can only be described as a perverted grin, he spoke in a language none of us understood. At his feet, a grey wolf snarled at us. Teynos and Nysqwen quickly ran towards the threat with Kyla and me giving support from the back. As they were running, for the first time I wondered how exactly Teynos was planning to attack. I did not have to wait for long, as with a flurry of blows, he punched the wolf with his bare hands too fast to follow his exact movements. He rushed past in the same movement, leaving the once fierce wolf a pitiful bloodied mess, barely standing. Nysqwen finished it in passing and then they were on the giant. A massive blow caught our new companion right at the temple, leaving him unconscious on the ground. Nysqwen just laughed in the giant’s face, dealing wide swings with her terrible glaive to the monstrosity. I did my best to keep the creature at bay yet right as I was about to send him into a fit of laughter, three more wolves showed up all around Kyla and myself, startling me enough to let the notes fade without any effect. Kyla cried out in rage, summoning again a spectral version of her mace, clutching her holy necklace and begging her goddess for aid for the poor young monk. With great relief I saw movement return to his body, just as Kyla shot me an apologetic look. As she later explained, she felt sorry for not helping more with the approaching wolves, as immediately two of them tore into me. But I would rather she helped Teynos then me in this situation any day of the week! Bloodied from two ferocious bites into my flanks, all I could do was to send two of the wolves into a stupor, while my friends took care of our other foes. With Nysqwen carving wound after wound into the giant’s front, the freshly healed Teynos managed to land the finishing blow against the giants back. Kyla in the meantime made short work of the remaining wolf, before all of us together opposed the still hypnotised final foes. Wherever this half-orc had trained, I would love to pay it a visit some day! His competence in the fight was astounding, were all of us previously convinced, we would have to look out for him constantly. Thus, relieved, tired and seemingly grown a little closer together, the two of us went about burying the wolves, while Kyla and Nysqwen started burning the body of the smell. Afterwards, still trying to ignore the stench that emanated from the cavern, we investigated it for any further spoils. It seemed to have been a mine of some sort, as a few mining carts lay strewn about, old and rusty tools were piled at one end and some of the walls showed definite signs of work. Yet what exactly had happened here and if it was abandoned before the giant arrived, none of us could tell. In a slightly remote part of the cave, Nysqwen however came about two small wooden boxes, which we took with us for further inspection. When we returned to the Kulinovs, Bor first refused to believe our story. He seemed unconvinced that our ragtag group would be capable of dealing with such a threat and was even less willing to believe that something as dangerous as a giant had been roaming these lands. Therefore, he sent one of his men to look for the cave and confirm our story. After this man eventually reported back that he indeed found the charred remains of a gigantic body, and freshly dug graves with wolves in them, Bor’s harsh demeanour softened a bit and he bade us to stay for the night. As thanks, they offered us all they could afford. A cow. None of us knew what we should do with her but Teynos gladly accepted this. He named her Martha and told the farmers he wanted her to stay here and live a happy life as he had nowhere to take her. Slightly confused, they agreed to this proposition. Now, the four of us are lying in our offered beds in the farmers’ homes, tomorrow we will make our way back to Neverwinter. Hopefully, Grum and Archie will be less busy and more inclined to continue our pending quests together.

When Past, Present and Future Meet
19th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Early in the morning of the 14th of Flamerule, I met up with Grum, Gundren and Nundro. Together we gathered all the hired miners, mostly humans and dwarves, and set out for the mine which we reached after half a day of travel. I imagine, Archie had prepared some device that allowed him to know if someone was approaching the mine as he came running towards us the moment we stepped into the caves entrance shouting to us to be careful with his traps. He showed us the safe way in, and it became obvious that our friends had done an excellent job the past two days in removing skeletons from the hallways, clearing debris and in general making passage safer. As we went deeper, a small shadow was hushing at Archies side. With a great amount of excitement, he told us about a particular metal he had found which he described as star gold. With this he was able to construct himself a mechanical vessel in which he focussed some magic to summon a fey spirit named Voithos to aid him with any tasks. Truly astonishing, how this young man manages to combine his craft and Mystra’s gift. And I admire his dedication to the thing he loves most. I am eager to see, where his life will take him. It is quite interesting though that after what we had faced in the mine, he chose the shape of a spider… As we met with the other two, I took Nysqwen aside to return her necklace to her. Her brother had protected us well. I promised her once more to do whatever I could to help her finding Urodar and her family again if she would let me. All around us, the miners were unpacking bundles, setting up tents and starting to distribute different tasks. Somewhere I could already smell a fire foreshadowing dinner. Yet first, Grum convened all of us to gather at the large lake to the northeast. He was keen on finding the source of the undying current and the rhythmic pattern we had witnessed. Understanding these natural occurrences was important to him and I knew that there also might be a slight chance for him to find what he ultimately sought in one of these remote biomes. Thus, without spending a second thought on any dangers that might come with diving into the unknown, he changed his shape into the one of the giant toad. Kyla insisted on fastening a rope to his body for being able to draw his body out of there should anything unforeseen happen but as soon as she was finished, Grum jumped right into the current. After five heartbeats, the rope had already extended to its full length. Seeing how nimble the animal shape had proved in its natural habitat, Kyla and Nysqwen gave up on holding the rope but rather let Grum do as he saw fit. Then, we could only wait. A few moments passed. I could not take my eyes off the turbulent black surface, frightened for my close friend. But eventually a toad shaped shadow emerged from the swelling waves and leaped up onto the stone ridge we were waiting on. Grum recounted that the water had continuously grown warmer as he dove deeper into the cave until it reached a temperature too high for him to stand any longer. In regular intervals, bursts of even hotter water rose from the depths causing the rhythmic pattern of the crashing tides against the stone wall. Yet he did not find any underwater passages. Our return to Gundren, Nundro and their employees was greeted with a merry mixture of conversations and laughter as everyone settled at the huge makeshift table from old wooden beams the workers had found. For this occasion, we had brought additional food from Phandalin and the evening faded with a proper banquet. Probably the first in these halls in half a millennium! Gundren and his brother reassured that they were convinced of the security of the mine, given the huge number of workers around. Therefore, we decided to depart on the next morning for Phandalin and then further on to Neverwinter to deal with some of our affairs there and fulfil the promise we had given to Reidoth – something I was definitely not looking forward to! But a promise is a promise and for Nysqwen’s sake alone we would have to deal with the creature. With everything we had learned on our mutual journey, we might at least stand a chance. The next morning, we were shaken from our sleep from the noise of hammering nails into wood, shouts and pickaxes, somewhere clearing out tunnels. Work in the mine had begun. We found Gundren in the main room of the forge hunched over the map, filling in new hallways and markings of his plans of expanding the existing shafts. After a heartfelt farewell and the promise to meet again at some point, we ventured forth to the small town. Archie and I immediately went to sister Garaele to bring her the promised tome. She almost lost herself in browsing through the pages with Archie commenting what he had read so far. It seemed to be of great importance to her and the Harpers to learn more about this civilisation as she bade us to bring the book to Neverwinter where a man named Nissan Murnik would make contact with us and accept the book. Maybe this will give us a chance to get more insight into the organisation we are dedicated to now. The rest of the day was spent with idle preparations for our journey north and the evening once more a feast in Toblen’s tavern. After a good night’s sleep, we found ourselves on the road again. Our first day of travel was pleasantly uneventful. Around noon a cart came our way and to our surprise we recognised the prospector we had tasked with fetching Barthen’s cart from Neverwinter. The man apparently had had some difficulties convincing Osrik, Archie’s master, that he would rightfully take away the barrow but clearly succeeded ultimately. Other than that, nothing seemed to have changed in the city since our last visit. We wished him safe travel for the rest of the road and continued our journey. The mood was high, many jokes were made and stories told. And as the sun settled, we reached the high road which we followed for another couple of miles. It was dark as we finally set up our camp for the night and as was custom this time of year, to the north and south of us other campfires already could be seen as small specks of light in the darkness. We all went about our usual tasks, but Archie said something to Voithos upon which the spider enclosed our space with a slightly translucent thread before building something like a spider’s web for itself. According to the boy, this precaution would alarm him should anything be able to sneak up on us without the respective guard noticing. As it was quite late already, after a simple meal we arranged our watches for the night and went to sleep. As my shift came about, I settled against an old tree stump, silently spinning the melody to a new song. Suddenly, a soft crack was audible from the west. I got up silently and using the shadows cast by some surrounding trees tried to get out of range of the fire to surprise whatever might be approaching. Before my eyes, a shape emerged from the darkness. Almost as black as the night itself, the huge creature had the basic shape of a panther with an additional pair of legs and two long tentacle-like appendices sprouting from its foremost shoulders. Internally cursing I made myself invisible to safely return to our camp and one by one woke my companions. Nysqwen was the first to be on her feet, quickly closed in with the monster and swung her glaive in a deadly arc. In the belief that such a creature might rely more on its instincts rather than some higher form of sentient reasoning, I projected a twisting pattern of shifting shapes and colours all around the creature. In response it led off Nysqwen and seemed frozen in place, unable to move. Too late we realized that the beast was not alone as from all around us three more of these creatures charged and slashed at us with their heavy and razor-sharp tentacles. In answer, the night abruptly grew bright as Grum murmured something and a vertical beam of silvery light engulfed one of the attackers before he veered into the familiar bear shape. Archie summoned Ori and together they managed to deal devastating attacks against a second cat while Kyla called forth her spiritual weapon, shaped as the mace we had found in the mine with an added raven figure at the pummel and attacked the final unimpeded enemy. Nysqwen realised that her current opponent was otherwise occupied and charged back to aid us against the monsters. The last weeks had made all of us far stronger than perhaps we had realised. Within mere moments Kyla sliced her target almost in half at the same moment that Grum tore a tentacle from his opponent with his bear teeth. Archie and his metallic beetle spewed flames against seemingly all attackers at once while Nysqwen and I disposed of the third cat. None of us had taken severe injuries from the fight as all five of us turned towards the remaining cat, still caught in the hypnosis I had left it in. Archie pointed at the beast with the butt of his staff and slowly the creature began to levitate off the ground almost 20 feet into the air. It followed a quick death for the helpless creature. I quickly disposed of any blood on the ground and on us, for one to keep other wild animals at bay and second to allow us to fall to sleep again without the horrible metallic stench in our nose. As I woke up on the next morning, I could smell the scent of grilled meat. Kyla, who had taken over the final watch, had cut up one of the beasts and was preparing something that oddly looked like dark bacon. As well as the smell was, as bad was the taste, however. While being a nice gesture on her part, I am not sure whether the meat should be consumed outside of life-threatening starvation. But still, it was enough to give us strength to continue our travels. The kind weather allowed for us making good pace this day and the faint smell of saltwater in the air seemed to bring especially Nysqwen’s mood to new heights. In the afternoon, we saw two more carts approaching. As I recognized the figure next to the charioteer of the leading one, I wished I had made myself resonate out of the perceivable spectrum again. Halia Thornton regarded me with a long, cold look, before she greeted the rest of our party. Grum mentioning he recognized her smell certainly did warm things up. We tried to explain to her what had occurred with the black spider while as well as possible dodging the fact that she was one of our prime suspects. Rather I tried to suggest she might be the scapegoat for some crime involving other powers. If she believed anything of what I said, I could not tell. Her cold regard did not falter once, I am just glad she took her leave after a while. I could not stop myself from subtly waving her farewell with an obscure gesture in the vain hope that it might resemble the ‘secret gesture of the Zhentarim’. But for what it’s worth, I do not believe I could have made the situation any worse by this than it already had been. At least she had shown some surprise at the mention of the black spider. But if that alone proves her innocence… I doubt it. In the evening, we came upon the familiar farm of Bor and his family. This would mean a roof over our heads for the night and the certainty that we would reach Neverwinter on the next day. We were welcomed with open arms and a fine meal as they had held us in good memory. Again, I tried to repay their kindness in kind by amusing the whole staff with tales from our adventures. Yet, theirs had been a long day on the fields and therefore it was not long before all of us went to sleep. Breakfast featured freshly baked bread, aged cheeses, sausages, and fruit paste; the best one can hope for when on the road. The morning was spent by Nysqwen helping with various physical tasks much to the relief of the oldest son of Bor, Archie doing his best in mending door hinges and the like and Kyla offering her magical healing to the people who needed it. Grum wandered off a little, it had been a long time that he had the chance to be alone with mother nature. He was visibly relaxed as he returned. I, lacking the practical skills of my companions, did as best I could in entertaining the younger children. Young Pia certainly enjoyed for once having a chance at hide and seek by being invisible. We thanked Bor once again for his most welcome hospitality and indemnified him for his troubles. Then we headed off again. The sun had settled as we came within sight of the gates of Neverwinter and arrived just in time before they were closed for the night. Once inside the city, Grum and Archie took their leave until the next morning, as they were keen on returning to their brewery and workshop respectively. In the meantime, Kyla, Nysqwen and myself went to the very tavern where our common journey had begun, the Singing Anvil. As was to be expected around this hour, the room was quite populated, the smell of fresh fish and ale omnipresent and a trio of three bards saw to the amusement of the guests. We managed to find a table for the three of us, ordered our drinks and toasted to Gundren and his success. For a while, we dabbled in some light conversation as Nysqwen’s gaze wandered more and more frequently to the three men playing their music. Judging by their skin colour and dusty cloaks, they were traveling folk, likely from the east, and could only have arrived shortly before us. Their music was good, a joyful tune that suited the overall mood in the room perfectly. I knew the look, Nysqwen gave these men quite well, as I had seen it many times when people regarded certain colleagues of mine. Not one you would give a tiefling, but Nal for example had always been good with women. I offered her to go over to the group and maybe arrange for a meeting with the artists, if she so desired. And so, I made my way over to the group in one of their breaks, approaching them with a warm smile on my lips and asking for the opportunity to share the craft in a quartet for the next song. There it was again. This cold, dismissive regard, speaking volumes of the distrust my kind evoked in most people we came across. In a rather demeaning fashion and a smug grin he accepted my appeal, asked however, if I would be able to keep pace. As I did so often, I shrugged off the ice around my heart with a smile and said I would do my best. Regardless of our first impression of one another, Anataea’s teachings quickly proved their worth once again as I added my lyra to their pipes, percussion, and vocals. Halfway through the first song, I saw their expressions change into wonder, then shame and then joy, as I just smiled and urged them on with the melody. Starting with the second song I added a bass line to the vocals all the while taking care not to steal their show. In the end, they were new to the town and I knew how hard it was to earn your living if no one knew who you were, and the local musicians would shut you out. Bards shall stand united, only then can we stand the test of time. When music becomes only about the popularity of an individual, all hope is lost. We played for nigh another hour, me pushing them to their best and being contempt to work my craft in the background. As we finished and took a drink at the bar, Fesur, their leader apologised for his rude behaviour earlier and admitted that they should have known better given their foreign looks and difficulties that such a minor difference already presented to them. There was honest regret in his voice, therefore I bore them no ill will. It’s not their fault that the descendants of fiends have a bad reputation after all. I introduced Fesur and his two friends Rardef and Joh to Kyla and Nysqwen, praising especially the latter as Kyla gave me a hidden gesture that she was not interested. I asked Nysqwen if she could maybe go with Fesur later on, as I did not want the orphans at Anataea’s to witness something they were not supposed to think about so far. When Kyla and I left the tavern, our friend had already been taken by the bard to his room for the night. Thus, the two of us wandered through the alleys of my hometown while Kyla recounted what she and Nysqwen had overheard when I was playing. Taverns were always a good place to gather the newest rumours and apparently there were plenty going around. The first bits seemed of minor immediate import to us, some talk of a new sculptor whose craft ran rings around his competitors and his statues were sought after by many of the rich families of Neverwinter. Next was some talk about a ship going missing on sea while sailing from some southern port towards the city. That I could see having some meaning for Nysqwen, giving her nautical background but I failed to see how we as of now might do something about it. Ships went missing all the time it felt like. Then, Kyla mentioned something closer to home. Two scholars had been talking over a map of the districts on which one had marked several occurring lightning bolts near the chasm, some of which aligned almost perfectly in a circle. Kyla and Nysqwen were granted a look on the map and extrapolated the centre of said circle as it might be the epicentre of the lightning phenomena. The scholars apparently were arguing if the pattern found by one of them was pure coincidence or if it indeed followed some greater design. Maybe it will be worthwhile to have a look at what is going on if we stay for a few days in the town. The final piece of gossip Kyla talked about clearly excited her the most and shocked me more than I care to admit after hearing it. Earlier on this day, a drow had been seen walking through the protector’s enclave. Her silvery hair was contrasted by a dark cloak which could not hide her beauty. On her hip hung a memorable sword. Accompanied was this woman by a female half-elf, beautiful in her own way, with whom she seemed to discuss something important. Kyla’s excitement originated from the fact that the description she had heard aligned perfectly with what she had seen in the vision she had received from the Raven Queen just before being told my name and about the end of the world. Therefore, she was eager to find these two figures and confront them with their supposedly ill intentions. For a half-demon’s blood to run cold as ice is quite the feat yet this was exactly what happened to me upon hearing the description of the half-elf. A description I knew far too well, from the colour of her hair to the kind features of her face. Anataea! Was this the ominous benefactor she had mentioned at our last meeting? What had she gotten herself into? I trust this woman more than anyone else, she knows absolutely everything about me. Yet, in this moment my whole world began shaking. Too late I realised that I had stopped walking and lost control. Judging by her face there was no way, Kyla had not seen it, if only for the fraction of a heartbeat before I collected myself and was able to fix it. When she asked about what she had seen I was quick to dismiss it as just a trick played on her eyes by the diffuse light around us and she seemed content for the moment. However, she also mentioned that I was sleeping with my eyes open. How could I be so careless? There was a reason after all for not sharing a chamber with friends on the regular. The same excuse of shadows on red skin served to shift the topic elsewhere but still… I won’t be able to hide much longer from these friends. If friends they will remain… Who could blame them from turning on me all together if they knew my true nature. I was foolish to believe it would remain unnoticed. But I am not ready, to reveal what might appal them. I told Kyla about my suspicion that the woman she had seen and described was the same that I owed my life and so much more to. There was no point in denying it, yet I also told her, I could not believe that she would have any ill intentions and how much I trusted this woman. I offered to speak to her and ask about these strange accusations. If she agreed, I would introduce Kyla to her as well so she could take her measure for herself. This seemed to satisfy her temporarily. I pray that I am right to trust in Anataea. I cannot afford to lose another person. Especially not her! When we arrived at the new house, a few of the orphans were still up and greeting us merrily. There were free rooms for both of us with fresh bed sheets and small troughs of water so that we may wash the dust of the rode off. My dreams this night were plagued with shadowy figures, knifes in my back and layers upon layers of deceit. Sheathed in sweat, I rose early in the next morning. As I climbed down the stairs, I was welcomed by the familiar smell of fresh bread that somehow every morning found its way to us and the first children being awake. They told me, Anataea was here and I could find her in the adjacent room. As I opened the door, my heart was warmed by the smile that paved its way on her face upon seeing me but immediately cooled as I remembered what I had to discuss with her. Following my request, we left the chamber and exited the house through the back onto a small backyard. A bench looked over the streaming canal, already bathed in the light of the morning sun. There we sat as I recounted her what Kyla had told me and about her suspicions of the connections in her vision. Anataea regarded me with an indecipherable look. Her only response was a thoughtful “Interesting” followed by a long silence. I truthfully explained to her that my trust in her was diminished in no way but that I was rather eager to help with any problems that might present themselves. When hearing that, the warmth returned to her face. I hope I did not say anything stupid… She knows me well enough to understand my confusion and my unbroken loyalty and love, I would think. After a few moments she then contemplatively asked whether I recalled the night in which Vivis had vanished. Nothing could let me forget the darkness that had reigned then, the beginning of a long period of fear. Finally, she recommended I should pay another visit to the old window. Perplexed of the kind undercurrent this comment had, I nodded and murmured that I might do so this very night. Then we sat there, each lost in their own thoughts. But the feeling of home, of safety prevailed. After some time, the door behind us opened and Kyla came to join us. I introduced the two women as they took each other’s measure. I told Kyla that I had spoken with Anataea about everything and she should feel free to speak as she saw fit. Still wary, Kyla expressed her concerns without making them sound as a direct accusation. Something else was underlying the conversation of the two women but I could not figure out what it was. Kyla demanded to meet with the drow, Anataea had had business with to which she replied that she was no longer here. Should she return however, Anataea would arrange a meeting. Mystra, please provide a good end to all of this. There must be a reasonable explanation somewhere. I flinched as Kyla mentioned with my charm, I should be great with women after some talk about my eyes, to which Anataea of course said nothing untoward; it was her idea in the first place. That comment hit much deeper than she probably intended, thus I quickly changed the subject. After a few more brief words, Kyla and I took our leave for the day. I passed a telling glance at Anataea before we stepped out onto the street and made our way back towards the Singing Anvil. On our way, Kyla said something quite puzzling as she offered an ear to anything I might want to talk about. I thanked her for this very kind offer. I will come back to this. Later. When I know how. At the tavern, Grum, Nysqwen and Archie were already waiting for us after having had their breakfast. Grum reported that his apprentice finally showed some progress in the intricate art of brewery and that within a few more years he even might be able to finish his training. He just might have to settle some business affairs there over the next few days. Meanwhile, Archie had caught up with both his father and his master. From the latter he learned that he indeed had a grandfather, also named Osrik, that took up the life of an adventurer. Hence, it feels rather likely that this is the same dwarf whose map and book we had found in the mine. All the more reason to see what he deemed so important as to seal it in a magically preserved tome. Furthermore, the boy had spent the morning commissioning a new armour for himself with the same blacksmith Nysqwen had rather fond memories of from our last time around. To my surprise, Kyla mentioned nothing of our realisations regarding the drow and the half-elf. With a meaningful look towards me, she agreed with Nysqwen to spend some of the day in the prospector’s enclave to look out for randomly bypassing dark elves. While we were at this, we figured, we might already see to refilling our supply of healing potions and afterwards take a look at the presumable source of the lightnings. After a short while of asking around, we were pointed to the potion shop of Merreck Proudfoot. As we entered, a halfling shopkeeper was behind his counter mixing some ingredients together. He seemed not to notice us or ignored us at first, deeply concentrated on his work. Suddenly, something pink exploded right in his face. Surprised and visibly disappointed he turned around, greeted us, and showed us around his wares. After quite a bit of bargaining, we managed to buy four such small potions immediately and order four more which we could pick up two days later at a reasonable price, to which Archie added the mushrooms he collected in the mine. It also gave us a better idea as of what to expect regarding the price of alchemy. It is past noon now; we just finished our lunch. It is remarkable, how much food Grum can consume in such a short amount of time but the litres of ale he had with it certainly helped washing everything down. Next up will be checking about the lightning. I have recessed slightly in my seat, scribbling these lines while they are in a heated debate over the exact anatomy of dragonborn and their ability to copulate with other races, following Nysqwen’s nightly adventures. She seems to rather enjoy keeping them in the dark and argue amongst them over something she could easily settle. I am still thinking mostly about Kyla’s revelations and my conversation with Anataea. I don’t know what to make of this. And I have to come up with some way to explain what I have not spoken about with these people around me. For within a very short time they have become family to me, almost as close as Cor has. And Chant once had. And in family, there shall be neither secrets nor distrust. But it’s so damned hard…

Reclaiming the Forge
13th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The minutes passed as we waited in the dark, weapons readied and prepared to swing at any signs of the skull. Listening intently, to our south a squishing sound emerged from the hallways, conjuring memories of giant slime cubes creeping over stone, mindlessly devouring what stands before them. To our relief, the sounds moved further away. As the squishing ceased, we all eased up a bit. Still, no green shimmer was approaching. As we sat together, Archie under his breath began contemplating whether creatures like the skull might have been or may still be used for fuelling apparatuses as they produced endless magical flames. He argued, if the skull was caught and secured within a smelting oven, that might allow for overcoming natural hinderances in a variety of forging processes, none of which I had ever heard of before, but which apparently are quintessential to the strength of processed steel. Whilst this certainly holds some academical merit, I doubt that one would be able to trap a flaming skull in such a way. And judging by their reactions, my friends seemed to agree with me on that part. The issue remained, if the skull returned, how were we to prevent it from simply reforming and attacking again? Kyla, in her vast knowledge of undead finally remembered reading at some point about a banishment ritual, that would require holy water. And she seemed confident that after some time to gather the required strength, she might be able to consecrate one of our water skins to be prepared for our inevitable confrontation. Before we went to rest however, I offered to gather some more intel regarding our immediate surroundings and possible the eastern most part of the mine to scout out our situation. Thus, I reached out to find the underlying hum of reality and match my bodies vibration to that particular frequency to appear invisible to the naked eye. I snuck out, first angling south to catch a glimpse of the room from which on our first visit we saw some green light. As I stepped into the respective tunnel, the shimmer was still there, a steady light, slightly more blueish than the one the skull emitted. After my last adventure of sneaking around invisibly and running into a giant spider, I tried to take additional care by occasionally conjuring subtle tremors in the grounds and walls a couple of feet in front of me, holding my breath and waiting for any reaction. Yet none followed. And without any encounters, I stepped foot into what appeared to be a quite large cave, tinted in that blue-greenish light I had followed so far. A light that, as I saw now, irradiated from clusters of mushrooms that grew in the cracks of stones on the floor and walls all around me. With another small tremor, I provoked a few of these fungi to emit a cloud of fine spores which slowly settled to the ground. My instincts and limited knowledge of such things made me flinch back even further and keep as far away from these mushrooms as possible. Is this what had killed Tharden? If so, how did he manage the way back to the entry of the cave? Maybe it takes time for the spores to suffocate or poison whoever has inhaled them, if indeed that was what had happened to him. In any case, I did not dare to proceed on my way through this cavern and instead went back the way I came, past our current spot of resting, with only Nysqwen’s head slightly lifting as I cursed myself for my loud steps. This at least was a more or less safe way of checking my own stealth, which without a doubt could use some further improvement. But I continued my path, this time with even more care to silence my steps, and went east of the room containing the huge furnace. The bendy hallway lead into another huge hall. As I stepped out into the room, I felt something brittle beneath my foot and as I looked down, I saw the whole ground littered with skeletons. This was something I really did not want to deal with alone, given the numbers of undead we had seen so far, and I did not want my friends to get concerned about my whereabouts. Hence, I made my way back, but not before getting a glimpse of what appeared to be a house built into the opposing side of the cave, apparently made by and for humans. Upon my return I shared the gained intel with the others. After learning about the building and the possibility of having found the location of the forge, Archie grew quite restless, yet agreed with us that we all required some respite before heading out again. Thus, we did what we could to fortify the small storage chamber by barring the door and, in the case of Archie, setting traps with Gundren’s and my crossbows. Archie once more distributed three small glowing pebbles in the room to spend some light before we allocated watches. When Archie woke me to my shift, he had a strangely troubled expression on his face. He seemed to relax quickly but something was laying on his young mind. As he did not say something, I did not want to pry and instead wished him to sleep well, proceeding afterwards to my guarding duty with Kyla. We exchanged only few words to not alert any nearby monsters or undead, however, the night passed by delightfully uneventful until it was time to pass the watch to Grum and Gundren. The next morning was ushered by a quick but hearty breakfast, after which we soon set out to explore the north-eastern cavern, I had discovered yesterday. Much to our relief, there was still no trace of the ghastly flaming skull anywhere and we even dared to light some lanterns as we entered the hall. The light revealed even more bodies all around us, mostly of human and gnomish descent with far less heavy armour and weapons lying about. Instead, the air was saturated with brimming magical energy as if huge bursts of such force had once been released here. In addition to the building I had seen the day before, a second structure was outlined further south at a lower level of the cave, connected by a flight of stairs. But the most breath-taking vista in the cavern was its ceiling. Myriads of gemstones reflected the light cast by our lanterns creating the illusion of a star-studded sky hundreds of feet below the ground. It was probably the most magnificent and simultaneously the most unexpected spectacle of nature I have ever seen. The yellow light hitting a variety of minerals was transformed into specks of almost blue to deep red colour, blinking with every movement of the light bearer. As we entered the hall, we all together paused for a few heartbeats just taking in what unfolded far above our heads. And through the silence, I could almost hear how Mystra whispered in my ear a new melody, re-shaping the visual phenomenon into sound, something that might allow to bring the beauty that was trapped under this mountain out into the world for other hearts to rejoice at its splendour. It was a moment in which without actively crafting something, everything fell into place, seemed to make sense in its purity. Archie was the first to move again, as he tapped his boots with the staff we had found on the black spider. He walked up to the wall of the cavern and just as the spider had done, began striding straight up to the ceiling. He inspected the minerals briefly, yet without the possibility to take a sample, he quickly returned. Then we turned to the house opposite of us. The fighting that no doubt had taken place in the space around us had marred the façade as well, black stains were visible on every wall and both doors hung askew in their hinges. Nysqwen and Kyla stepped forward and with their combined strength, they managed to push the slate of stone open so that we all could enter the room behind. The room was illuminated by a green flame that danced lively in a brazier positioned at its centre. The walls were lined with workbenches, tool racks and various leaning objects; manufactured goods, halfway in the process of making were scattered all about. On the opposite side of the brazier, five eyes looked directly at us and a voice echoed in my head words of greeting and asking about our intent. One of the eyes peered from the centre of a floating, green, spherical creature, the others protruded on four tentacle-like appendices from its body. On the face of my companions I could see that they had heard the same voice. I did my best to regain my manners as quickly as possible, introduced myself, mentioned we were here only to prevent someone else from taking control over the forge and asked the being for its name and purpose. It replied delighted as if not having had a civil conversation in a long time that its name was Barakas, who centuries ago had been tasked with the protection of the forge by a gnomish mage by the name of Alvin, who to the best of Barakas’s knowledge resided in a tavern to the south. Despite him being pleasantly surprised by the conversation, a strong feeling of distrust that swung in his answers was clearly noticeable. This notion seemed to grow as we asked if it was possible for us to have a look around the forge and stated that would only be possible with Alvin’s approval. Although Alvin still being alive seemed nigh impossible, the only house that might be a tavern anywhere close to the mine could be the other standing structure in the south of this very cave. Thus, we took our leave with the intention of returning once we would have spoken to this mage. Opening the crooked door to this second building the house turned out to be something more resembling sleeping quarters rather than a tavern. On the far wall, two ancient beds were positioned, against the walls stood several bookshelves and another door led to an adjacent room to the south. At the foot of one of the beds stood a chest. The moment Kyla stepped foot into the room, grey mist seemed to rise from the floor, constringing into the shape of a human man in robes, warning us to leave him and his gold alone. The apparition introduced himself to be the wizard Mormesk who was keen on using the forge to his own benefit. To this end he asked us to deal with the watcher of the forge, whom we had encountered earlier. Upon hearing this, all of us silently seemed to agree that the notion of helping an obviously mad ghost was not one, we were particularly fond of. Yet, to hopefully get a better understanding of the ghost’s intentions, I tried to imbue my question regarding these with some magical energy. Which failed horribly. Instead of treating us with a little more ease, the creature uttered a terrifying howl and slashed at Kyla’s face. Seeing her flinch in pain resonated with me heavily as I had only to blame myself for this sudden onslaught. I still have to apologize to her for not giving at least a word of warning, although I could not anticipate such a violent reaction. I still feel incredibly remorseful for her enduring this pain and also me being responsible for it. Hence the first thing I could think of doing was shouting to Nysqwen that a magically enhanced sword might suit the occasion better than her glaive while I handed her my last potion of healing to pass on to Kyla. Maybe it was the thunderous crashing of the second door Nysqwen and Kyla opened, maybe something else entirely, but right as Mormesk started his attack, a familiar menacing green glow appeared above the forge as the flaming skull reappeared. As to not being caught between two fronts, Grum whirled around his trusted Shillelagh which connected with an audible ‘thunk’ with the ghost’s head. Nysqwen wielded the longsword Talon in both hands cutting away fraction after fraction of the translucent figure while Kyla summoned her spiritual weapon and healing herself a little bit. And from behind, Ori, as freshly summoned by Archie, landed the final blow against the wizard straight in its chest only a few heartbeats after its first attack. Grum and Gundren were able to dodge out of the way partially, but the fireball spit forth by the undead again crushed in our midst and doused us all in fire. While for once my damned heritage proved to be quite the advantage, I heard my friends scream in agony around me, as the magic flames burned away. Our best shot was to close in with the skull and take it out as quickly as possible, before it would attack again and again from the distance. Here it proved that having equipped Gundren with a crossbow back in Phandalin was probably the best investment we had done over the past weeks. He managed to send the skull reeling back over the top of the forge with a bolt that crushed right through its frontal cranium. Simultaneously, Kyla cupped her necklace, tormenting the skull with her holy energy. Archie tried to once more scale the wall to circumvent the height difference with the skull, Ori close behind him, yet found that in order to catch up with it, taking the floor would end up being faster. In the meantime, Nysqwen had found in her backpack the potion we had found so long ago, drained the flask in one motion and rose into the air. It truly was a frightening sight to witness the huge dragonborn rush through the air, the greenish light reflecting on her scales, fierce determination written on her face and her glaive glowing from the stone, Archie had embedded in its shaft. Would we have faced a mortal enemy, it likely would have run at this point. While we now charged at the direction of the forge, trying to get some cover from the head’s flaming attacks, Grum fell to his hands and knees mid-sprint, four more legs popping out at his side and his whole body transforming into a giant spider that swiftly climbed along the wall of the building. As the skull appeared again at the edge of the roof, we answered its attacks with bolts and magical assault yet every time we seemed to receive more grave wounds. As I reached the shadow of a cliff, I winked Nysqwen down towards me to try a different approach. She seemed to hesitate briefly as every muscle of hers wanted to go after the skull, but the moment passed, and she descended just enough for me to touch her. And just as I had done to myself the day before, I managed to make her vanish from our eyes. I could not think of a better way to contribute to this fight, other than to send in an invisibly flying dragonborn. The smile of understanding, Nysqwen offered me as I touched her ankle, I took as a sign of hopefully having the right idea. Kyla was the first of us to scale the forge, while Gundren tried to move around to get a better shot at the skull. Yet, just as she stood on the roof, ready to strike our foe, I saw her engulfed by green flames and dropping hard, apparently unconscious. Grum in his spider form and I also reached the top, but there was no trace of the skull anymore. Gundren’s steps in the tunnel beyond however revealed that it seemed to head for the underground lake we had seen yesterday, probably with also Nysqwen in its wake. Knowing that I would not be able to help in this fight, I did my best to stabilise Kyla. Her face was a burned mess, some of her hair was gone and the armour hot to the touch. I did what I could for the brave woman, which seemed to stabilise her enough to give Archie time to reach us and heal her most dangerous wounds and take her from the edge of death. Only a few heartbeats later, a triumphant cry sounded from the tunnel ahead and both Nysqwen and Gundren returned. Gundren had managed to fatally shoot the head, but only because Nysqwen with only the safety of our party in mind had entangled him in melee combat and granted the dwarf such a perfect shot. We all felt quite sure that if the head were submerged in the currents, even if it returned to life its flame would immediately be extinguished again and thus it no longer posed a threat. All of us gathered around, following Kyla’s invitation. As we sat down on the ground, she bade us to close our eyes and listen to her words. With that she started to pray. She thanked the Raven Queen for our success over our enemies and for preventing all of us from passing into her realm and bade for her aid to strengthen us for what was yet to come. I felt a calm within me, accompanied by relaxing muscles and dwindling pain. All of us felt invigorated as we stood up again and proceeded to explore the house of Mormesk. The chest we had seen before was unlocked and contained the gold the ghost did not want us to lay hands on. Next to it, three small diamonds could be found within as well as a wooden pipe. The latter featured beautiful platinum inlays on its head, resembling some form of tendrils. Among the books in the shelfs four were still in a readable condition and seemed to be magically preserved against the touch of time. Three of these tombs contained tales about the mine we found ourselves in, the phandelven pact over the forge and the lost elven kingdom that once had dwelled in these lands. They might teach me some things regarding the history of the province, I shall read them if time allows. I am quite sure, Archie has read through all of them by now. The fourth book however contained a map of another system of caves together with a description how to reach them. In line with this, the caves were located somewhere in the surrounding mountains. What one might hope to find there could not be deducted but if a map exists of the place, it certainly must be of some importance. This will be something, I am sure, we will return to at some point. Suddenly, Archie drew in his breath sharply as he recognized the name of the author, a dwarf by the name of Osrik. The same name, his old master in Neverwinter bore. Judging by the age of the book, they could not be the same person, however, an interesting detail, nonetheless. One more task remained for us to accomplish, if the black spider was not showing up again – the forge was still under the watch of Barakas. As we re-entered the workshop and told him about our victory over the flaming skull and Mormesk, the being appeared rather unimpressed but I was able to convince him that we had Alvin’s approval to take a look around and see if everything was in order. Begrudgingly the creature floated aside so that we were able to inspect the room properly. The most interesting things we could find in our quick search through the room were two obviously finished pieces propped up in the corner of one of the workbenches. Here, we found a Mace with the name ‘Lightbringer’ engraved on its hilt and a shiny breastplate in which a gorgeous dragon motive was inlaid. As she carefully eyed the two items, Kyla’s excitement was clearly visible, her trembling hands running along the cudgel of the mace. I did my best to distract Barakas’s attention from her approaches as he clearly grew more and more restless, the longer we stayed. Thus, I asked him about the combat that had taken place in the hall just outside and his role in all of this. Nysqwen’s curiosity got the better of her then and she asked how someone like him was able to fight. Upon hearing that, one of the eye tentacles turned into her direction, staring at her without any sound. And suddenly, Nysqwen ran screaming out of the room. Kyla and Archie dashed after her, shouting what was going on and that they would keep her save in the darkness. Gundren, Grum and I remained to see Barakas mouth twist into a grin that revealed extremely sharp and pointy teeth. As to not anger him to avoid further combat, I just commented that I saw his impressive power and was convinced that he did a great job in his protection of the forge up to this point. Too late I realised what I had done as I added that I could also see him continuing that task in the future as his grin faded into anger and another one of his eyes seemed to look right at my soul. I was unable to avert my gaze as I felt stiffness taking hold of my entire body. Unable to move, I toppled over and was unable to properly see what was happening afterwards. I just saw Grum’s feet transform into huge toad legs and heard the noise of battle. A heartbeat later, Nysqwen, sober again, Kyla and Archie reappeared and joined the fighting. It only lasted for the blink of an eye, before I heard the toad swallowing something huge and the felt a sharp pain between my shoulder blades. And once more, everything went black. It probably were only a few moments yet it felt like forever. The darkness gave way to scenes of my past, faces rushing past, turning away. The overwhelming feeling of betrayal and solitude, an outcast to all but a few. A knife in the back. And then it was over, I could open my eyes again, see in front of me Kyla’s face who just let loose of her necklace with an expression of relief. Behind her shoulder I could see Nysqwen’s face, contorted into regret and sorrow. As Kyla drew back, the dragonborn came forth begging for forgiveness. At first I was unable to comprehend what had happened, yet it became clear that Nysqwen, under the influence of Barakas’s magic was unable to control her own raging swings and buried her glaive in my back just before Grum killed the watcher. Her remorse was obvious and I more than most can understand how others can be bent to one’s will, removing their control over their own body. There was nothing she could have done, nothing I am willing to accuse her of. It speaks for her great heart that she did not even try to blame the responsibility on anything else and only promised herself to improve her resistance to such attacks to prevent her friends from harm. I understand her feelings in that situation and could only promise her that I think no less of her and there is nothing to forgive. True friendship shall not fail at the sight of an illusionary compulsion, forced upon one of the participants from an external source, especially not if the remorse afterwards is as real as it was for Nysqwen. All of us together had achieved the purging of the mine and in the process had grown closer than any of us might have imagined at the beginning. Nothing will break that. After laying aside any potential for quarrels, Kyla finally was able to claim the breastplate and the mace that still lay on the workbench. While she donned her new equipment, Archie examined the green flaming brazier in the centre of the room. It still emanated large amounts of magical energy, but he concluded that much of that must have been lost over the centuries. What once was concentrated to permanently imbue crafted goods with additional power now merely was enough to do so temporally. It still was the most powerful artifact, I have ever seen and showcased how skilled and knowledgeable its builders must have been. How many such secrets might still be out there waiting to be found? How many are lost forever? Likely, nobody will know an answer to these questions. As for our purposes, Gundren concluded that such a forge will greatly benefit the mining business he and his brother would now be able to establish. With the forge now hopefully liberated of the influence of malicious creatures, the last cavern that was left for us to explore was the mushroom-filled space to our south. We approached the fungal patches with as much caution as could be mustered, Kyla immediately was able to identify the spores that covered the floor exhibited some kind of toxic effect, should they be inhaled. Her attempts to burn some resulted in the mushrooms slowly shrivelling and hissing, as they appeared to be rather wet. With the aid of his small metal hand, Archie managed to collect some of the fruitbodies for further analysis. Maybe there is some value in brewing an antidote from them. And thus, it was done. The mine and forge were secured, all of us still alive with only the stain of the black spider still being free. With this realisation, all of us sank to the floor of the sleeping quarters, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the last days and the constant tension that had accompanied our way through the mine. Gundren mused that the gems used as eyes in the statue of Dumathoin might prove valuable enough to give him the necessary seed capital to start his mining business. Kyla expressed her adamant aversion to the plan of desecrating a holy statue like that and instead we offered to pay him the money if in turn we would share in his profit. This satisfied the dwarf as well. We decided that Kyla, Archie and Nysqwen would stay behind to watch over the mine, keep the black spider from returning and start to clean up the hallways while Grum, Gundren and myself would travel back towards Phandalin to get the required paperwork settled at the Miners’ Exchange and hire some prospectors to start mining. Additionally, Kyla asked me to fetch her some silver and diamonds she would need for some of her prayers. Before we left, Nysqwen approached me with a remorseful look and asked me to take her necklace for our journey with the promise that I shall bring it back to her. It must have once belonged to her brother or been gifted to her by him, as she said, she hoped he would watch over me. I understood this being a gesture after her smiting blow against my back. And if the streets have taught me anything, you never decline a gift of friendship if it is offered wholeheartedly. With great respect I donned the chain. I appreciated the gesture more than she can possibly imagine and I promised to bring it back to her as fast as I could. So, we departed and reached Phandalin yesterday evening. Today, Gundren went to the miner’s exchange to receive the rights to his mine while Grum and I visited Harbin to get the necessary silver for Kyla. After some bargaining, we managed to get a solid conversion rate and continued on to the Exchange for the diamonds. Fodl already was busy with a knot of people who all had heard that the claim of the Stoneseeker brothers was real and the mine had been found. After retrieving the stones, I went on to sister Garaele. The kind woman listened patiently to my tale and paid special attention to the books we had found. In particular the descriptions of the fallen elven kingdom of Illefarn made her sit up and she asked if she might by chance have a look at the book. I promised to bring it to her when we all would return as it currently was still in Archie’s hands. It is evening now, a late hour as I am sitting on the remaining roof of Tresendar manor. Grum and Gundren are already asleep and I too will soon seek out my room. Everything seems so peaceful. Only the animals of the surrounding woods can be heard, no sound of steel being drawn, no horrible monster that charges around a corner. I hope we all will find ourselves in safety soon. But I don’t know if there ever will be a way back into the life, I had known a few weeks ago. And to be honest, I don’t know if I would want to turn back. I do not wish to part ways with the companions I have found here. If they accept me, I will ask if they would be willing to continue our journey. What better way would there be to repay Anataea, than to bring peace and shelter into a world that mostly knows death and deceit? Oh, Anataea, I wish you could see me now. I will put an end to what has befallen us. Would you be proud of what I have become?

The Flame Rekindles
12th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

After finishing our rest, we turned to investigate the corridor to our southwest, from which a faint green glow emanated. After a few strides, the tunnel partially was barred by some debris, yet all of us could pass through beneath it, albeit on our knees, at least in Nysqwen’s and my case. Behind this chokepoint, the path continued, forming a canal through a larger room the centre of which was occupied by the largest bellow-driven furnace, I have ever seen. The bellow appeared to have been operated by a waterwheel which is set in the canal we were now standing in, suggesting that once it carried a stream of water from the northern mining area towards the larger body of water we just left behind. All around the room, bodies were scattered, remnants of a fierce battle between dwarfs and orcs that once must have happened here. The whole scenery was tinted in an eerie green light. A quick glance around revealed a small skull, hovering right under the ceiling of the furnace room and engulfed in a green fire that licked along its mocking grin. After facing a number of encounters over the last couple of weeks, this skull did not look like too much trouble to me on first glance, yet seeing the dismay on Kyla’s face accompanied by a hearty swear from Gundren quickly made me change my mind. Nysqwen quickly sprinted ahead to get in position to smite the undead head while Grum displayed a new animal form in veering into a gigantic toad that jumped from the gully. Meanwhile, Kyla touched the ring she had given me and murmured a few words. Immediately, I felt something magical wrapping around my body with a whispered promise of protection. Where she removed her hand, a faint band of golden light stretched from her fingers to the ring and she gave me a reaffirming nod. ‘Ere we could get much further, the skull uttered a noise that might have been a cruel laughter and spit a ball of red flame right between the bunch of us. The pain was excruciating. I have never felt something like this before, as every inch of my body screamed under the immense heat and malice of the attack. And worse, I could see that Kyla suffered for every bit of damage I received just as much. I realised that the attack might have hit much worse, were it not for her protection, yet at what cost? But there was no time to think. With the laughter of the flaming head, eight of the fallen bodies seemed to reanimate, rose and came shuffling towards us while the skull was already preparing its next attack. The battle unfolded as we threw our combined forces at our opponents. Grum did not care much for the sword swinging skeletons, he simply wrapped his enormous tongue around one after the other and swallowed them whole. I don’t dare to think what happened to the creatures after that point and how my friend would deal with a pile of bones in his stomach after leaving the toad shape behind. Gundren made good use of his newly acquired crossbow, although the bolts seemed to affect the undead creatures less than would be expected on a living target. Nysqwen was in her usual space at the front line, dealing devastating blows to the animated bones, spraying white shards in her wake. She quickly identified the flaming skull as the most dangerous enemy and fought her way through to get to it. Archie threw a small metal ball from his belt in the direction of the approaching skeletons, which unfolded into trusty Ori. Both of them ceaselessly fired magical projectiles in unison at the enemies. In the meantime, Kyla had summoned her spiritual weapon which ferociously sliced into the undead while she herself resorted to her divine magic to fend off whatever came near her. Occasionally I believe I heard the chime of a bell from one of the skeletons, before it would collapse at her feet. While trying to keep moral up by supporting Grum and Archie, I reached for the staff we had found on our first visit in the lost mine to send some magical missiles towards the grinning skull. Much to my dismay however, the projectiles dissipated against a suddenly appearing blueish shield that seemed to insulate the head from any damage the blasts would have done otherwise. While the skeletons proved no real challenge despite being at a numerical advantage, the skull very much did as it continued spitting a variety of magical attacks towards us and hovered out of our direct reach with only Nysqwen closing in. Thus, it landed some nasty hits on the dragonborn, Grum and more minor attacks on the rest of us. I decided that my skills might be of better use to Nysqwen with the skull than against the undead whom the others seemed to be doing fine with. I spotted a skeleton wearing remains of some metal armour, which I manged to heat up significantly to at least stop the foul creature from attacking Grum and sprinted towards the skull. Yet even as I arrived, my charms showed hardly any affect on it. This cave truly is not my forte… Only once all skeletons were slain, we managed to focus all our attention on the skull. And finally, Nysqwen landed a heavy hit, dislocating its jawbone and Kyla combined a fierce strike of her spiritual weapon with a bolt of holy energy to finish it off. From one heartbeat to the other everything went silent. The only light in the room emanated from Nysqwen’s glaive. As I looked around, I was glad to see all my friends still standing and none too badly wounded. Still, the strain this fight had brought with it was clearly visible. Archie was the first to move, as he quickly strode to the ancient furnace to inspect it. All around its circumference, human, dwarven and gnomic runes were carved into the metal, consecrating the instrument to their respective gods of forging and crafting. Yet nothing pointed towards a location of the rest of the smithy or what exactly might once have been heated here. With this observation, we decided to return to our earlier place of rest to recover from the fight. As all of us started to feel rested once more, we set out again, this time heading for the room directly south of the forge. Curiously, the skull we fought earlier was nowhere to be seen. Yet what had happened to it, we could not say. Thus, we entered the next room, which turned out to be some kind of former refectory. Just as we headed towards a flight of steps leading to a lower level of the same room, at the opposite site, seven ghouls entered the hall. Without hesitation, Grum and Nysqwen stepped in to block their way up the stairs as Kyla, Archie, Gundren and I went into position on top to attack them from range. Archie swapped his own, rather scientific looking staff for the one he obtained from the defeated black spider and in quick succession shot two large globs of sticky, grey webbing in the path of the approaching ghouls. Grum was quick to follow that up with casting a solid column of flames amidst the undead, ramming into one and setting part of the web on fire. This coordination and clever use of terrain made the encounter less intimidating than it had seemed at first. Yet, while we were defending ourselves, through the same hallway we entered the room from a skull engulfed in green flames flew straight towards us, howling with rage. A significant cut in his jaw made it obvious: this was indeed the same bloody skull we just though to have sent to hell! Yet by whatever foul magic was embedded in the bone, it seemed to have rekindled and in no good mood. Kyla was the first to react. She cried out in a mixture of anger and maybe fear but had the presence of mind to reach for her pendant and send a quick prayer to the Raven Queen. The last word, she spoke loudly, and it almost sounded as if a second voice was entwined with her own. As the last syllable rang out, the skull stopped mid-air, turned, and moved away, even quicker than he approached. All that took no longer than a second and suddenly we were aware again of the still attacking ghouls. Three of which had managed to reach Grum and Nysqwen and others tried to climb up the sides to reach us on the top. In all the chaos, all I could manage was to project the illusion of a wooden beam right in front of the attacking ghouls to make it harder for them to hit our brave friends, before turning to the more imminent danger of climbing undead. Yet, with our combined prowess we in the end managed to fend off the creatures before long. Kyla told us, she had sent the flaming skull as far away from her as possible, but the spell would only last for a short while. After that, the head might come reeling straight back to us. Hence, we decided to fortify ourselves in the storage chamber on the long corridor to the south, we explored on our first visit here. We reached it unperturbed and are now waiting for any signs of movement. If the skull does not return soon, there still is the easternmost part of the cavern to be explored. And somewhere in this mountain still is supposed to be a magical forge…

Two Hangovers and a Funeral
12th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Before we left the Miners’ Exchange, Kyla tried one last time to get some information from the foreman, this time with a little magical support. But he could tell us nothing new. Nysqwen tried something that resembled advances on a more personal level but all she could glean from a very confused and slightly irritated Fodl was that blue was his favourite colour. At our farewell, she proudly pulled something from her back that a close inspection revealed to be a pair of worn and tattered socks. With all of us staring in disbelief, she handed her possession to Fodl, as a gift for all his troubles. Mystra knows, what is going on in that woman’s head, I suspect she genuinely meant it as a heartfelt gesture. Well, what would we be without our spleens, I guess… I passed through the door last and with a final apologetic look slipped the perplexed man a silver with a light pat on the shoulder. That sparked something more closely resembling gratitude and he murmured, he would be happy to oblige. Back at the Stonehill Inn, we planned our next steps. We figured, it might be worth checking out the old Tresendar Manor, where once we turned out the red bands. Maybe Glasstaff or the black spider would use it as a hideout again or at least get some belongings from the place. Afterwards, we saw our best shot in returning to the Wave Echo Cave. The spider desperately craves possession of the old spell forge; thus it is likely, he would return there. But first, as Kyla promised and was our duty as friends, the burial of Tarden had priority. While Kyla ordered the two Stoneseeker brothers to craft a tomb stone for their fallen sibling, I made for finishing the song I was composing in honour of the dwarf’s fortitude. She, in the meantime, prepared some balms and rites as was custom to her order. With all preparations complete, we made our way as a silent parade out to the southwest of Phandalin, where Grum, Gundren and Nundro already had scouted for a fitting spot. After about an hour of walking, we came upon a hill, overlooking the village and surrounding fields, facing the mountains in the east. On the grass covered mound stood a lone, ancient, enormous tree. Kyla proceeded to embalm Tarden’s corpse, while Grum and Nysqwen went out to search for wood for a funeral pyre. Once everything was done, we all took turns in piling the dead branches, covering everything in oil and deferentially bedding the fallen dwarf on its top. With closed eyes, her right hand clasping her chain, Kyla kindled the pyre with a single word, before reciting prayers to the raven queen to grant safe guidance of Tarden’s soul into his next big adventure. I accompanied her prayers with a few faint notes on the lyra, trying my best to encapsulate the feelings of pain and grief and setting a counterpoint in peace and relief. As best as I knew, I imbued the music with some magic in the hopes of aiding the transition of the soul and asking Mystra as well, to watch out for the brave man. As Kyla finished her devotions and we watched the flames slowly burning down, I transitioned the faint notes to lead into the song I had written and sang a eulogy to the dwarf who sacrificed his life to save his younger brother. As the song ended, the last flames died down. Kyla stepped forward, eyes closed, gesturing in the air while silently forming words. And before our eyes, the ashes stirred, rose as if drawn by a wind hose, circling faster and faster. The grey mist contracted forming a perfect, grey sphere of compacted ash, slightly shimmering in the evening sun. Slowly, the ball sunk down into the dug-out grave at the foot of the tree and rested in a pre-formed mould. The dwarves covered the hole with loose earth and erected the carved tombstone, indicating the spot of final rest. There we stood in silence. It must have been at least two hours, before any of us moved, although Archie visibly struggled to comprehend what exactly was happening. On our way back, none of us spoke each lost in their own thoughts. When we entered the inn, the sun had already settled. We drank to Tarden’s memory and settled down for supper and a few more glasses of ale. Kyla ordered herself some harder liquor, at which Archie’s curiosity got the better of him, as he uttered, he wanted to try it as well. The disgusted expression on his face, as he took a huge draught, was surely a sight to behold! It finally triggered the first laughter after the darkened mood a funeral brings with it. We failed to stop ourselves from bursting into laughter as the poor boy followed Grum’s advice to rinse out the taste with some ale and Archie got more and more drunk. But Kyla certainly kept pace with him. And so, sorrows were drowned as Kyla, Archie and Nysqwen argued over the purpose of mourning, as he failed to grasp, what exactly caused our gloominess this afternoon. Yet after such an emotionally straining day, we all went to bed early. As we assembled for breakfast this morning, Kyla and Archie suffered heavily from their decisions of the past evening. Kyla was not amenable at all as she scuffled towards the table, her hood drawn deep into her face. Archie was still wavering in his painfully slow descent from our sleeping rooms. I had helped Toblen to prepare a meal that might at least counter some of the consequences of such a hangover, but seeing the misery in Archie’s eyes at the faint smell of alcohol in the tavern room drenched all hope of him getting over it any time soon. In answer to Kyla’s request for something for her headache, Toblen replied that actually sister Garaele might be able to help us. Consequently, this was our first stop of the day. After Kyla tried to hide the fact that she suffered just the same as Archie, sister Garaele indeed was able to prepare some hot beverage to ease the symptoms for both of them. Afterwards, in compliance with her earlier request, I showed the small augury-imbued figurine to her. Upon seeing the item, a gleam of fascination flashed over her face and she instantly inspected it closely, running a thoughtful finger over the eye engraved into the statue’s forehead. She expressed her eagerness to further study it and asked if we would be willing to part with it, to which we agreed. This might be a way in which we can be of service to the Harpers. Next, we headed back to the Lionshield’s shop, where we met Lady Graywind once more to equip ourselves for our return to the mine. On our way towards the shop, we saw three men curiously setting out towards the ruin overlooking the village. Yet, we decided to investigate this later. As we discussed at breakfast, Nundro was in no condition to go back into the deeps that soon, a wise decision. Gundren however insisted on coming with us, thus we purchased a crossbow and some bolts for him, as we figured that this would be the safest way for him to aid us in our mission. Once we were content with our gear, we made for our first waypoint, Tresendar Manor, following the men we saw earlier. Much to our surprise, as we approached the hill, we heard the hammering of nails into wood, laughter, and a few voices, chanting along a merry tune. Once we got sight of the old ruins, it became obvious that the figures we had seen entering the place from afar, were clearing out space, knocking down old walls and setting, what seemed to be foundations for a new house. Before we could introduce ourselves or ask what was going on, the closest man cried out in positive surprise and greeted us as the “heroes of Phandalin”. His peers quickly gathered around us and replied to our inquiries as to what was going on that the townsfolk had decided to construct a new house in place of the former bandit hideout as a residence - for us! These people were actually building an entire house just for us out of gratitude for what I would have argued was our duty of responsible citizens and adventurers! I still find it hard to believe. Being used to being looked down upon, if even so much as spared a glance in the taverns of Neverwinter, I am not sure what to make of such attention. Anataea’s relentless preaching about what goes around comes around certainly did not make me expect something quite like this to happen. A warmth filled me in that moment, as I find hard to put in words, maybe only music can encompass the joy it brings to me, to realise what kindness can do for us. Anataea will be proud to learn about this! Anataea… I still have to find out what was going on during that last visit… Hopefully, we can soon put an end to this black spider affair, as I will have to look after my brothers and sisters back home again. If I am lucky, maybe Grum, Nysqwen, Archie and Kyla may be willing to help. Just as I vowed to do whatever it takes to look after them and their loved ones. But for now, we thanked the men for this heartfelt gift and excused us to pursue our initial reason to come back to the Manor. Leaving them behind, we climbed down the stairs leading into the basement, where we found the former well just as Archie left it behind after our last visit. It seemed as if nobody had been here in the last weeks. And the same was apparent in the rooms further back. The same broken and hastily abandoned laboratory equipment was scattered on the floor of Glasstaff’s private chambers, the dust lay thick on his desk. Nothing hinted at anyone entering the place after we cleared it out. And any traces of magic, that once were detectable in these rooms were gone now. Only the menacing magical weave in the den of the notic remained. With this trace leading to a dead end, it was time to set out towards the lost mine once again. Our journey was pleasantly uneventful and in the early afternoon, we entered the mountain, exchanging the warm sunlight for chilly darkness, a menacing feeling spreading through our group. Archie put forth that the bugbears we saw on our last visit were clearly digging for something in the trench in the far north of the mine and argued that if they searched for something, it might be worthwhile for us to find out what that something was. Thus, we travelled north on the same path we took last time. We reached the crevice without any undesired encounters and climbed down to the bottom. Many shallow holes in the sides gave evidence to the attempts of digging further into the stone, some of the edges showed obvious signs of some magical force being employed in the process. The ground was littered with rubble and heedlessly scattered remains of food and broken tools. After almost an hour of searching, Kyla and I stumbled over a pile of bones, hidden underneath a great rock. Our attention was immediately drawn to the shiny gauntlets still covering its bony hands. We made sure for the skeleton to be dead for good before carefully removing said gauntlets. Immediately Archie ran towards us, some of his lenses in front of his eyes with unhidden excitement in his face. He hardly could contain his enthusiasm as he yanked the objects from my hands and studied the engraved fists, the rivetted construction and pulled out a small tool with which he fuddled about for some time. He identified them as being obviously magical, granting an attuned wearer the strength of an ogre. His last words he addressed to Nysqwen on whose face slowly an equally broad grin paved its way. ‘Ere we could marvel at the objects any further, we were interrupted by an arrow hissing right in between Grum and myself and breaking upon its hard impact on the stone floor. On top of the ledge from which we climbed down earlier stood a skeleton archer, already putting a new arrow on its string. Quickly, we scattered trying to reach the opposite slope to climb to some high ground. Meanwhile, Archie proved once more, how much he had grown in the past few weeks. After barely being able to say two straight sentences this morning with his hangover, he immediately pointed his staff towards our attacker and engulfed him in flames. When I turned back to assess the threat posed by the other side, I only saw some last flocks of ash drifting to the ground, where previously the undead archer had stood. From what we could determine, he had been alone. Even Kyla could not detect any further undead in the immediate vicinity. We were now on the north-western edge of the crevice, the thundering of the echo louder than ever before. Grum determined that the walls of the tunnel we found ourselves in were washed flush by countless years of water once flowing through them and proceeded to lead our group further along the path. After a few turns, we emerged into a gigantic cavern. A small ridge to our right continued the path we were following, along a roaring basin of water, which ebbed and flowed regularly, its thundering drowning out most other sounds. The opposite wall is lost in darkness, this cave could be hundreds of strides across. And judging by the sound, it might be part of a much larger system of connected reservoirs. What is causing the constant movement is indeterminable at the moment. But as there somewhere is a magical forge about, perhaps its builders employed the force of the water masses in their construction. We chose this place to take some time for Nysqwen to get used to these newfound gauntlets. I can see Archie’s eyes still being fixed on them even from here. Grum and Gundren are talking in the rumbling language of the dwarves. I find myself unobserved for the moment and take the time to write down these lines. And pray that we will survive this day. If our assessments are correct and the black spider indeed returned to the mine, we will need all the strength we can muster to stand through this, potentially even facing off against whatever nightmare our enemy was fearing so much. I see Kyla approaching, surely, we will be on our way again soon. I will have my lyra at the ready.

The Eluding Spider
11th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Finally. The deed is done. The black spider caught, its minions slain and all of us survived. In the furthest room of the dark caverns within the wave echo cave, we won a triumphant battle and after what felt like eternity had some time to tend to our wounds. The drow was a crumpled heap after it fell from the ceiling, for the moment only clinging to live due to Kyla’s magical prowess. But he owed us answers, concerning both his intentions and Nysqwen’s brother. On his body, we found an anvil shaped key. The only other thing of value seemed to be the black, adamantine staff topped with an equally black spider he wielded in battle. In one of the corners of the room, some parchments were piled up. Yet we could derive nothing from it but two names: U’hid Nasad and Maglust. Who or what these were, we could not determine. While we were still looking around in the chamber for anything useful, three further gricks appeared yet were fended off easily. After our endless journey through the cave and this final battle, nothing will stop us that easily! Every one of us has grown substantially in power. What is more important however, is the bond that has formed within our companionship. A bond seemingly unbreakable, forged by the unspoken promise to stand for each other, even through the darkest times. Still searching for Gundren’s younger brother, we could unlock the door to the northeast of the chamber in which we fought the black spider with the key he possessed. And lo’ and behold! On the far side of this room indeed a maltreated dwarf cowered. Gundren rushed forward while we were still carefully examining the dark for any hidden traps and uttered a cry of relief and pain in seeing his brother alive yet in such a dire condition. After a quick magically imbued healing of his gravest wounds, he regained consciousness and the hug, with which he greeted his brother said more then a thousand words of what he felt in this very moment. Nundro told us, he had last seen Tarden as he faced a group of bugbears while commanding Nundro to run for safety. Thus we had to deliver to him the news of his fallen brother. Yet I promised to myself, I will encapture the valour of the dwarf who gave his life for his brother in a ballad that is worthy of Rattlepike’s old lyra. It took some convincing to keep the two brothers from ripping the spider’s black heart from its chest right then and there, but we still were searching for our answers. Kyla slapped the man awake with Nysqwen pressing her blade against his throat. He negated the question if he knew her brother Urodaar and seemed to swerve around her questions, dodging any answers that might set us on a trail after her lost kin. Later, Kyla mentioned she could feel that the spider was not bluntly lying but withholding parts of the truth. We asked him, whether he worked alone or had accomplices. To that he replied that someone named Imraloth had introduced him to Maglust (“the one who is alone”). This figure, he had last seen in U’hrid Nasad. Yet this was all we could drag from his mind. He proclaimed he was searching for the forgotten forge to gain the necessary influence and power to rule as many as possible, using goblins to do his dirty work. Finally, much to our surprise, he offered to tell us about what he dreaded to find within the mine if we in turn would turn him in to the Lords’ Alliance rather than kill him. Within the depths some powerful undead were lurking and he might be able to tell us what we need to know to face these creatures. This frankly took the wind out of our sails and we came to the conclusion that it might be worth delivering him to justice and listen to what he had to say even though we were aware of his possible deceits. But this cave was not the place to negotiate such things and thus Gundren was awarded with the pleasure of sending the spider back into the realm of dreams with a hearty punch. ‘Ere any thought could be spent towards further exploration of the wave echo cave to help providing the Stoneseeker brothers grasping a hold of their mine, all of us required some relief from the constant fighting. And Nundro was in no condition to delve deeper into the cave. Thus, we made our way back towards daylight and, ultimately, Phandalin. Kyla kindly offered to set up a proper burial for Tarden once back in safety. Burdened with the dead, the prisoner, a heavily wounded and exhausted Nundro and our resources mostly exhausted, we marched the whole day until late in the afternoon we could see the the first buildings of the village appearing between the trees. We were greeted heartily by Toblen and his wife as we entered the Stonehill Inn once more. After a short reciting of our tale and an inquiry towards Sildar’s current whereabouts, we set out to find him at Harbin’s. When we entered the townmaster’s office, we came right in the middle of an argument between the two men about whether any of the citizens might have been capable to aid Glasstaff in his ventures. Telling what had befallen us since our departure changed their expressions from anger over to awe and in Harbin’s case into something possibly resembling fear as the conversation came upon the topic of imprisoning the black spider in his cells. However, after some initial hesitation, he agreed to keep the man so long until he was delivered to the Lords’ Alliance. This evening we had new stories to tell and songs to sing, as once more laughter filled Toblen’s inn. After finishing our breakfast the next morning, we went to further question the black spider in his cell. Kyla was brimming with excitement; she had spent the night in conversation with the Raven Queen and had come up with a variety of spells of which she was convinced that they would draw all secrets from the captive. As we entered the townhall, Harbin was nowhere to be seen so we went directly for the cells where Sildar had kept watch throughout the night. Alas, as we came in sight of the holding cell, a horrible picture of a man lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor before an open cell was painted in front of us. Sildar was at least gravely wounded and the spider vanished! We rushed to Sildar, finding a puncture wound from a dirk in his torso. Yet he was still alive. Kyla, trembling in rage, tended to his wounds while I made sure that no dirt was enclosed in the open flesh. As he regained consciousness, Sildar told us he had held a monologue to the prisoner in the last night about his flaws and already had sent word to Neverwinter, as a sharp pain in his back pushed him into darkness. Archie made sure that no trace of anything magical was in the air our around the cell. Suddenly, Grum slowly turned to us and contemplated he might make use of the superior senses of the wolf in order to catch a trace of whoever might have helped the spider escape. Veering into a by now familiar shape, he sniffed around for a few minutes, before he quickly went towards the exit. Later he explained that a peculiar perfume was hanging heavy in the air and a sharp, numbing odour was emerging from the pool of blood. By following the found trail, Grum lead us to the Miners’ Exchange. After her revelation of belonging to the dubious Zentharim, Halia Thornton of course was not to be underestimated. Yet to possibly work together with the black spider was nothing, any one of us would have suspected. And maybe this initial assumption was to be proven wrong and it was in fact one of her acquaintances who was the culprit. Whatever might be the case, we felt it our duty to further investigate what was going on, even more so after what happened to Sildar. Thus we entered the Exchange and asked the man at the reception, a prospector named Fodl, where we might find Halia. He responded, she had not been in yet and might still be at her home. However, she would not like to be bothered there. Without seeing anything else suspicious in the room, we excused ourselves and made for the home of the head of the Exchange. While we were approaching the house, Grum noticed the scent he followed so far becoming weaker. We decided to split up, to have Kyla and me checking up on the house, while the others were keeping an eye on the Miners’ Exchange to intercept if Halia should show up there. Much to our surprise, the door was unlocked. It was dead silence in the house. We snuck inside, quickly checking for any sign of the presence of another person. When we were sure that we were alone, we made for an inspection of the house. The books we found all were of some fairy tales and other fictitious stories, some business documents from the Miners’ Exchange and letters from friends in Neverwinter and Waterdeep. Yet nothing that would give any evidence as to Halia being up to no good. In a chest at the bottom of her bed, besides a bunch of clothes we found some glass splinters at the very bottom but with no clue, where they might originate from. After checking every wall and the floor for secret compartments, we made our way up into the attic. Most of the boxes here contained supplies. However, there was a broad assortment of different wardrobes, far more than were to be expected even with a lady of such status as Halia’s. In fact, these clothes would make perfect disguises for any number of nefarious affairs. Maybe we already were viewing this through a tinted lens, but our suspicion of Halia being the accomplice in the spider’s escape thickened by the minute. An extremely carful observation of our surroundings revealed a small hidden cavity in one of the walls. In front of it were some markings on the ground, as by a sharp metallic object being dragged over the wooden floor. Within the cavity, we found a small vial, filled with a green liquid. As we headed back to our friends with our prize, Archie quickly identified the liquid to be a very potent poison, capable of stunning a grown man for multiple hours. Grum recognised its smell as the same sharp odour he previously had smelled in the pool of blood in which we found Sildar. This finally seemed to be the incriminating link to tie Halia to the escape. Our friends had seen no sign of our suspect entering or leaving the building. We decided to leave Grum and Kyla with the task of continuing the surveillance, while Nysqwen would inform Sildar of our findings and Archie and I would meet sister Garaele to inform her, and by extension the Harpers, of what we had encountered in the mine. Afterwards the three of us together wanted to seek out Harbin to inform him of our investigation. We found Garaele deep in prayer and waited respectfully for her to finish. Once she was done, she greeted us with a warm smile and listened to our tale. She seemed to display a special interest in the small figurine with the imbued augury spell. We promised to show it to her on our next visit. I also showed her the ring I had found in the mine with the engraved initials SN. She traced the pattern on a piece of paper and promised to make some inquiries as to what its story might be. Finally, she too bade us driving out whatever evil was still lurking within the depths of the wave echo cave, in the name of our faction. When we met Nysqwen again, she told us Sildar did not seem surprised to learn that Halia might be involved in this affair, he suspected her nefarious affairs for some time now. Together then, we approached Harbin’s home. Upon our knocking, the door was carefully opened just a slit and a well-known face peered out. We told him what we had encountered in the past few hours. His shock when hearing of the stabbing of Sildar and the spider’s escape seemed genuine, although for the briefest of moments something that might have been disappointment glittered in his eyes as we assured that Sildar was still alive. But that probably was just a product of their continuous fighting with one another. He said, he had not been to his office yet, as he was working from home on affairs of his main profession as a banker. Halia, he had mostly only met as a witness in minor disputes between prospectors. He disclosed to us that she had left town yesterday on her way to Neverwinter. With everything we had learned so far, this took us by surprise, especially as her employee did not seem to know anything in this matter. To continue with our investigation, we asked him, if it would be possible for him to issue a search warrant in our name, so that we might take a closer look at the Miner’s Exchange. Although I expected otherwise, he complied and said he wanted to join us in this matter. All four of us went back to the Exchange, were Kyla and Grum were eagerly waiting. Approaching Fodl at his desk, we demanded access to the private chamber, Halia and I had our first discussion in, and to the cellar that could be entered from there. With Harbin’s authority at our side, the man could no longer deny us. He however seemed to honestly not know that his employer had gone on a trip out of town, something that apparently happens with some frequency. He knew of a delivery that embarked for Neverwinter yet did not recall that Halia wanted to join the convoy. In the small chamber that served as a private conference room, we could find nothing noteworthy. No stashes, no irregularities, nothing. Somewhat disappointed, we went down the stairs into the basement, a single room with a low ceiling and dozens of boxes, baskets and sacks. This is the storage room for the Exchange, where everything was filled to the brim with common and rare minerals, metals and other mining products. Our manual search revealed nothing out of the ordinary, although Grum had detected the scent he was following before in greater intensity in the conference room. Once more, Archie adjusted an assortment of lenses to look out for any traces of magic. And indeed, after a few minutes of preparations he cried out in surprise and pointed towards a crate filled with chunks of coal. He started digging through the black bricks until he triumphantly pulled out the remains of a broken glass vial with small drops of a purple liquid still clinging to it. The vial resembled the one we found in Halia’s home an awful lot and Archie quickly identified it as a potion of invisibility! What is going on here? What is Halia up to? Are these potions in some way also tied to Glasstaff? The day brought so many riddles and every answer we find opens up four new questions. We have to re-evaluate what we have learned so far. There is a missing fragment somewhere yet as of now, we cannot pinpoint what that might be…

The Return to Phandalin
8th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The small statue we found is definitely of elven origin and features a small, stylised eye engraved on its forehead. Other than that, we could not detect any further inscriptions or hints as to what mysteries it might contain. Archie managed to get a glimpse at a small golden shine surrounding the figurine through one of his myriad lenses. He noted, it might be some kind of divination spell that was imbued in the object. Nysqwen tried to hand the statue to Kyla repeating the words I phrased when handing it to her. And behold, she too saw the wheel tumbling from one door to the next, noiseless and invisible to everybody else! When Kyla tried to do the same, nothing seemed to be visible to her. Archie proposed that, given enough time, he might be able to prepare some examination to further identify what was going on with the statue. Thus, we contented ourselves with what we had discovered so far and set off towards Phandalin. It was a joy to travel together without the imminent threat of a dead friend or the prospect of a castle filled to the brim with fiends waiting to send us all to the outer planes. The old ruin quickly was swallowed by the forest in our backs as we delighted in the natural sounds of life all around us and strode forwards at a quick pace. Our intention was to reach Phandalin the same day, the chance of a quiet and most importantly safe night kept us going. On our way, Archie used every opportunity to fiddle around with his tools. A bunch of clicking noises, silent curses and sharply drawn breaths accompanied his efforts in constructing more of his intricate mechanisms and adjust a small device to the statue we now carried with us. Nysqwen observed his efforts for a short while with some interest and this soft look she always had when she watched the boy whom she seemed to view like an adopted younger brother. Quickly however, her focus was drawn away by a few birds singing some paces away or the illustrious play of light between the dense leaf roof over our heads. Why such a kind soul had to suffer the early loss of her family and the abduction of her actual brother must be a cruel play of some foul deity. If indeed the black spider knows anything about what befell her sibling, we shall punch it from him without mercy. The huge dragonborn soon fell into a conversation with Kyla about some burial ceremonies. After our common cleansing of Cragmaw Castle, and all the support the half-elven priestess knew to offer, she had grown close to all of us and I dread the day, we might part ways. Hopefully, we can convince her, to stay with us for a while. This little group of ours, our family, was enriched by her presence tremendously. A few strides ahead, Grum walked next to Gundren, occasionally supporting the fellow dwarf, and rumbling in the deep tongue of the small folk. The sight alone of seeing Grum relaxed as he had not been since we encountered the cave of Skarg and learned about Gundren’s abduction, was enough to vindicate any troubles and hardships we had encountered in the past weeks. While nothing is over until we find Tarden and Nundro and hopefully set an end to the mischiefs the black spider evokes all around, the brief period of respite is dearly welcomed and the joy I can see in my friend’s face and stride pleases my heart. While watching our little fellowship, I could not help but smile. A small melody entered my mind just then, I grabbed my beloved lyra and played what I felt. It was a soft tune, quietly weaving around all of us as we were marching. And it felt like the world drew a breath. The tune spoke of familiarity, trust, closeness and joy. A promise, to guide us till the end. I cannot tell how it was perceived by my friends, their voices and sounds fell away until all of us were listening to what notes sprang into existence from the instrument without me really doing anything but giving in to the music. And ‘ere we knew it, it became evening and we reached Triboar Trail. Our journey continued ever on, spurred by the song although weariness was growing especially with the still recovering Gundren. Around midnight, finally the outskirts of Phandalin loomed in the darkness ahead. Most of the village was asleep at this hour, yet in the Stonehill Inn there was still some light. Toblen and his wife certainly did not expect any more guests this evening as they were already cleaning but their surprise quickly turned into utter joy as they recognised us. They were quick to seat us at a table, offer us drinks and food and even began filling a bathtub upon Nysqwen’s request. Thus, we sat together for some time, telling tales of what had befallen us and enjoying the fresh food and ale. At some point Archie directed speech once again towards the topic of the small figurine and said he might have figured out a way to determine what was going on. We gathered around him as he pulled out the statue, sat it upon the table and set up the small instrument he was attuning earlier on our march. After a few seconds of silence, a soft cry indicated he found something. He explained, an Augury spell was imbued within the object, allowing for a short glimpse of the future in showing a positive, negative, or indifferent sign to the enquirer of a dualistic question. He concluded that for some ominous reason, the wheel we had seen before was a reinforcing sign to the creator of the magical object. Why this should be none of us could say. My suspicion is that the old wizard had a queer sense of humour and literally imbued a pun in his work leading from a sign for “weal” to a materialising “wheel”. Although now that I am writing this down, this also seems farfetched… However, I am curious now, as to what his sign for a bad outcome might be! But we stopped further experimenting for now as Archie explained that such objects often are bound to so called charges, making them only usable a set amount of times, either per unit of time (like once per day) or forever. And if this might help us in perhaps surviving our future adventures, no one wanted to waste such a charge with asking if there was another beer in store and seeing how the statue might react. Well, all of us except Gundren, who did just that, looked mightily pleased after his question and was rewarded by Toblen indeed entering with a fresh serving of drinks. This was already challenging the humour I suspected with the dead wizard! Given the exhaustions of the last few days, the long march, and the long hours, soon after all of us went to bed. Thankfully, enough rooms were free for all of us, granting us the best sleep we had in what felt like eternity. During the night I was plagued by dreams of deep caves, too dark to see and echoing the roaring of dragons and the clanging of weapons and armour. The scenery shifted to Anataea in the company of a dark, hooded figure with their backs turned towards me, whispering unrecognisable words and exchanging a huge bag of coins. Then the pale faces of Grum, Archie, Nysqwen and Kyla flashed before my eyes, each with expressions of pain and terror on dead faces. I woke up sheathed in sweat almost an hour before sunrise, sneaked out of my room not to awake anyone in the neighbouring chambers and went for a stroll through the sleeping city. My steps carried me towards the old ruin of Tresendar Manor, where I sat upon a tumbled wall and watched the sun slowly fight its way to sheath the town in its light and cast away the horrors of the night. Deep in thought, it took almost two hours before I was ready to walk back to the inn and get an early breakfast. Upon my return, the two innkeepers already were preparing our meal and I guess my expression kept them from asking about my whereabouts. Grateful for their discretion I helped them with the last preparations and sat down to calm my rumbling stomach. Soon after, Grum and Gundren joined in on the breakfast, the former casting me a worried glance upon my early arrival yet I signalled him through eye contact to perhaps talk later in private. One after the other, our remaining friends appeared and soon, all of us enjoyed the morning in a merry mood. All over a sudden, a cry was voiced from the top of the stairs, followed by tumbling footsteps and Sildar emerging into the room, running towards Gundren, and nearly crushing him in his hug. The relief on the man’s face was heart-lifting and greeted by compassionate grins on all of our faces. Its for moments like these that we chose to continue our adventure. Spreading joy and brining together people, that is all a simple bard can wish for. After breakfast, my friends went to the miners’ exchange to inquire for any new signs of Gundren’s brothers. I still was not keen on a reunion with Halia, thus I remained in the inn giving me some more time to think. Later, the others reported that Halia had not even been there, but they also did not hear any new rumours. Still, they managed to find a prospector who was willing to lead Barthen’s cart back to Phandalin after his soon to be ride to Neverwinter for a small pay. Together, we set out for a visit to the Dendras to return a certain heirloom. When we came upon their home, nobody was there. An elder woman passing by could point us towards the neighbours they had found shelter with. As we knocked on the mentioned door, the young but marked face of Nars Dendra appeared in the doorframe. His eyes opening wide, he cried for his mother and hastily bade us to enter and sit with them. Mirna and her daughter prepared a few cups of ale for us, they looked not as skinny as last we saw them, but it was easy to tell they still were struggling to get back on their feet. Their lined features still bared the sorrow upon the death of Mirna’s husband and their captivity. With the late woodcarver being the sole source of income in the family, they needed to start completely anew. All we could hope for was that our gift to them would rekindle their spirits and maybe facilitate a new life. Great was the marvelling in their eyes, as we presented to them their necklace and even greater their disbelief when we told them that we wanted them to keep the piece without any exchange whatsoever. Yet, once we convinced them of our honest intentions, a new spark invigorated them. They realised how this might change their future and heaped us in gratitude, almost too much to bear. The second moment in this day, that rewarded us for everything we had done in the past. When we departed, we left behind joy and laughter, where before had been sadness and minor despair. Now it was time however, to continue our own quest. Gundren was eager to leave for the mine he discovered with his brothers, believing this might be the best chance to find a sign of them. And we were sworn to help him in his search. We refilled our supplies and around noon said goodbye to Toblen and his wife and Sildar, who decided to remain in Phandalin on behalf of the Lords’ Alliance. As we left the small village behind, Archie suddenly spoke up. He expressed his deep feeling of friendship to us all and stated how devastated he would be, should anyone of us suffer an early end. I had to avert my gaze to hide the tears welling up upon this remark, fitting so well with the notions I experienced in the past days and upon my dreams of the cursed last night. Turning back, all I could say was that for this reason, it was our duty to look out for each other no matter what might stand before us. No wedge shall pry this fellowship apart. We are resting now under a small ledge for the night. Come the morrow, we will head into Gundren’s mine. And I pray, Oh, I pray that we shall find his brothers alive.

How to Clean a Castle
7th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

As was to be expected, the past night was not as restful as we might have hoped for. Constant noises from within the ruin, the sounds of Neverwinter forest outside and the lingering smell of burned flesh made for an unpleasant concoction. Yet besides numerous disruptions to our sleep, with our awakening in the morrow, we rose like flowers after a harsh winter, filled with new life and power. I felt a new sensitivity to the small harmonies surrounding us, Mystra had been close last night. During breakfast there finally was some time to speak to Gundren about his time in captivity and share our story. He knew nothing about a black spider, so far, he had only seen goblinoids around the keep, until the shape changer appeared yesterday. Upon hearing that we could save Sildar from Skarg, he appeared mightily relieved, but the remark that his brothers had not been seen in Phandalin for some time contorted his laugh into a worried frown. Thus, the next stage in our traveling was set: reuniting the three brothers and make sure, the lost echo cave was save in their hands. Yet prior to that, we decided to rid this castle of any remaining goblinoids and try to find some further information about this black spider. Any attempts on trying to get something out of Droop proved futile. The small creature either really knows nothing or is the greatest actor, Faerûn has ever seen. So, what to do with him? After freeing him before, he went straight back into the shackles of his so-called king. But seeing him in his bindings, lying helpless at our feet, only compassion could be felt for him. We cut his fetters and sent him into the forest, to go wherever he may please. Hopefully, we did not just condemn him to end as breakfast for the next predator who crossed his path… Yet something tells me, he has something like a sixth sense for survival… We started our exploration of the remaining ruins in the parts we already knew. With all the rustling about in the previous night, it is better to be safe then sorry. Thus it came to be, that within the tower that formerly served as a prison to the slain owlbear, Archie caught a glimpse of a small wooden object lingering on a shelf on what must once have been the second story. He was quick to surprise us with another invention he had just finished – in front of our eyes, a flush, round metal ball unfolded itself without any visible activation into a hand shaped form. Effortlessly, Archie sent the small hand to probe the object and could quickly discern it as a box of some sorts. Who knew, how long it had been standing up on that small ledge, Archie did not dare to just push it down with his small companion, in fear of destroying something valuable. A wise thought! Thus, Kyla ended up climbing on Nysqwens back to reach for it. Once retrieved, the box revealed some old coinage, a healing potion and two more of these scrolls, Hammun had rewarded us with. It is still fascinating to me, how some magic wielders are proficient enough to bind the floating energies to a small piece of parchment to be released at will at any given time! And I even could decipher one of the scrolls, it described a strange, formulaic way to exclude sound from an appointed area. Why so complicated, if one can just counter the harmonic frequencies with the correct sound waves? But maybe this will come in handy, if a situation leaves us too worn down, to employ our own magical patterns. Next, we checked upon the southern entrance to the castle, only to find it barred from the inside. As we peered into the exterior, Kyla noticed mud splatters leading from the forest right through the door we now stood in and into the castle. She could determine goblinoid and canine footprints, likely a raiding party accompanied by some wolfs. She told us about some noise she had heard last night from the southern edge of the forest and concluded, it must have originated from these newcomers. Thus, we at least knew about this company hiding somewhere in the castle. At this point, a nervous twitch shiver ran down my spine upon the prospect of encountering an undetermined number of enemies in a castle we knew hardly anything about. I was not keen on repeating the small knock on deaths door of our past fight and therefore called my friends to more caution in our further explorations. The next door we came across, we therefore approached silent as shadows, listening for any movement on the other side. And indeed, the shrill voices of goblins could be heard through the wooden door. Mustering the doorframe, I came up with an idea. It should be no hard work to conjure an image, exactly replicating the wooden planks, which would appear as a shut door, while we silently would open the real thing to get a better view and possible a moment of surprise on our enemies. Archie lent me some of his oil to grease the hinges and I pictured all gates we had come across so far, projecting my will on the frame in front of me. Our efforts however were only greeted by a stubborn latch, keeping the door shut from the opposite side. In order to not give away our position, we decided to sneak our way around the obstacle, looking for an alternate path or more intel on what else might be hiding here. We went back through the main corridor linking east and west wing of the keep and halted before the next door, where we repeated our strategy of careful glancing. The room behind was rather dark yet appeared to be empty. As we entered, Archie lit three small lights, he scattered about the room. In the dim light, the walls of the hall revealed frescos of four deities, two male and two female. One was very familiar to me and I knelt before my goddess to thank her for the company she had bestowed upon me and ask for her guidance, first for our way through the castle, but then for our future adventures as well. Behind me, I could hear Kyla and Archie naming the others as Lathander, Tymora and Oghma. Hearing that last name shook me from my silent prayers – I had heard this one before too! He was often referred to by Anataea as the patron of bards. I had never before felt a connection to him of similar strength as I had with Mystra, yet their combined appearance in this apparently former chapel intrigued me. I will have to study some lore regarding their relationship. The chapel was empty apart from an ancient altar posted up at its north end and an intricately decorated brazier standing before it. Two curtains led to a chamber beyond and another door was set in the wall opposite of our entrance. Kyla was studying the frescos, when suddenly something dropped from the wall above her. We have had many strange encounters within the past weeks and there is some weird folk wandering about in Neverwinter. But never before have I seen such an ugly abomination! It wound itself around Kyla like a gigantic worm, at what presumably was its head, a sharp, parrot-like beak was framed by four glistening tentacles, which now were slashing out for our new friend. Together, it took only a couple of heartbeats to slay the creature and free Kyla from its ghastly grip. Grum could identify the beast as a Grick and pointed out that such creatures usually do not come alone. Why this one was not accompanied by a swarm of others was beyond him but it did not bode well for our further exploration to be mindful of every wall and ceiling for perhaps more of these… Kyla luckily had received only minor superficial cuts to her arms. But I was not looking forward to dealing with a whole bunch of these Gricks. We took a moment to catch our breath before we decided to first check the chamber lying beyond the two curtains. As Nysqwen drew the cover back, chaos began to arise. I was keeping back so could not see all that was going on, but her change of grip on her glaive was enough to tell me, we had found our first bigger fight of the day. I did the best I could to weave around her a wall of sound waves to soften blows and then she charged. I heard three squeals filled with pain that all abruptly stopped and was involuntarily imagining the huge dragonborn slicing all throats at once with a single frenzied blow. Grum strode to the second curtain, changing shape while walking until a huge plain’s hyena swiped the cloth aside in the same motion. When I came in sight of the room, I saw before me a scenario of what looked to be an interrupted ritual of sorts. A blooded cloth covered an altar and three of the goblins were robed like a mockery of priests. Nysqwen stood amidst three dead goblins, attacked by two further ones who had no chance of even hitting her. She mixed raw power with a deadly precision, worthy of a song on its own! One of the remaining four goblins shouted something to the adjacent room. We quickly slew three of them, the fourth escaped through the door, Kyla close on its heels, followed by Nysqwen and Grum. Archie decided to keep our backs safe and also look after Gundren who still was not completely back at full strength. I on the other hand wanted to circle around the enemy to in turn attack his back by taking the other door exiting the chapel we fought the Grick in. But among the fighting and the associated noise, I did not heed my own words and let my caution slip. As soon as I exited the door, I felt a small wire being pulled taut at my shin and heard the imminent scraping of loosening stones above my head. It was a kind of trap I have seen Archie prepare numerous times and blindly I stepped into it nonetheless! Even a quick lunge was not enough to save me from all of the collapsing rubble, I felt the painful shattering of bones in my shoulder as boulders found their mark. This commotion was enough to alarm more goblins who poured into the hallway from adjacent rooms, attacking me on my way towards my friends. Bow strings sang their deadly song and once more, I fell into darkness. Only to be awakened soon after from an empowering feeling of celestial power, mending my wounds and restoring energy reserves within myself. As I looked up, I saw Kyla staring intensely in my direction, clutching her Raven Queen necklace and silently moving her lips. If there would have been any doubts in my mind regarding her integrity, now they finally would have vanished. She knew us only for a few days by now, yet she already looked after us the same way we did ourselves. And I swore to myself, I will greet this with the same uncompromising loyalty and friendship I felt to the rest of our company. For now though, I was still surrounded by fights, Archie and Ori were holding the door I just stumbled through, Nysqwen and Grum were caught up in a fight with two wolves and a handful of hobgoblins. They found the newly arrived raiding party. And I joined their efforts in vanquishing our foes with a renewed determination. No longer did I want to be the weak link in our chain, I channelled my rage into a burning hot sensation I focussed onto the armour of one of the larger goblinoids. In response, the metal glowed red hot, severely burning its bearer, who subsequently was ripped apart by Grum without any means to defend himself. Not five minutes later, it was all over. Grum reverted to his dwarven self, Nysqwen was covered in blood from snout to claw, yet none of it was her own. Kyla approached me to ask if I was alright. And yes, I was feeling surprisingly well, given the two arrow shafts still sticking in my back. They were quickly removed though, and I expressed my deepest gratitude towards her. Peaceful silence was seeping back into the keep. We took the chance to scan the rooms for any further unpleasant surprises like traps and hidden enemies, yet we finally seemed safe and returned to the chapel. We took all valuables from our slain foes, Kyla had a special interest in the artifacts found with the goblinoid ritual, we interrupted. I was drawn to the beautiful brazier in the larger room of the chapel and inspected it carefully. Tucked below some rotting wood at its bottom, I saw a glint of something metallic. The object turned out to be a small, beautifully crafted figurine of unknown origin. I asked Nysqwen if she could take care of the treasure, as she was already hauling all other valuables. The moment she touched it, I saw behind her back how a lone wagon wheel slowly rolled in through the door we first entered the chapel and out on the other side. There was no noise, nothing that would explain what just happened. I cried out and explained to the others what I just saw, yet none of them seemed to have noticed any such thing. Is my mind playing tricks on me? It might just be an aftermath of my unconsciousness, yet something tells me not all is what it seems with the small statue. What have we found here? What did the magician who built the place do with it in his lifetime? For now it is time for us to pack our stuff together and escort Gundren safely to Phandalin and consecutively to his brothers. And I have to find a better way to not slow down my friends in our martial encounters. Mystra, show me how to support rather than burden them! And Oghma, if you can hear me, guide a novice bard, who only begins to comprehend the world, to your patronage and knowledge!

A Twisted Rescue Mission
6th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

All of us awoke this morning after warm beams of morning sunlight punctured through our tent walls. Wait, all of us? When we stepped outside, the huge shape of a dragonborn was curled around the last remaining ashes of a burned-out campfire, snoring like a child. Nysqwen actually had managed to fall asleep without waking any of us to take over the next shift! Thankfully, no harm had come from it, yet Grum, Kyla, Archie and I agreed that this degree of culpable negligence must bring some consequences for our friend. We poured an entire waterskin over her face, sardonically musing the day would be far to beautiful to just be slept upon. Within the blink of an eye, the initial expression of rage upon such a rude awakening turned into a conscious-stricken, embarrassed face as realisation struck her. Her sad eyes could kindle one’s pity, were it not such a funny sight to see our badass barbarian helplessly begging for forgiveness for her mistake. I am certain, this won’t have been the last time, we will taunt her with that bit. But there was not much time, nor a secure enough feeling to fool around for long, thus we broke camp only half an hour later after a brief breakfast and set out towards our destination. With every step I could feel how Grum grew more excited and anxious for his friend and felt a similar notion creep up inside me. When we came within sight of the castle walls, we realised we were facing the south western corner of Cragmaw castle. The keep originally had been built by a human wizard from Phalorm a few hundred years ago, but only ruins remained of the once proud stronghold. It consisted of seven layered towers, granting a view upon all surrounding lands in their prime. Now, only the base level seemed to be still standing and it was doubtful, that even half of this area still was in habitable condition. Following the intel we obtained from our last captive, we used the forest to our advantage to circle north and then east to get to the secret entrance into the castle. Passing by the former west gate, only an open hole loomed where once proud wooden valves barred entrance. All around the castle were arrow slits ten to fifteen feet above the ground, hinting at an elevated floor level inside. On the north side of the keep, huge heaps of stone fragments littered the ground where some of the towers obviously had collapsed. We still kept our distance, searching for any sign of movement or other life within the castle. But from our vantage point, with the instructions we had been given, we could see a cloth patch covering an opening between two massive boulders. The secret entry was no secret to us anymore. But we still had to figure out a plan of how to deal with a manor potentially filled to the brim with goblins and perhaps worse. Anataea’s favourite lesson rung in my head: “Knowledge is power. Knowledge is key. Remember that, Morthos!” Yet none of us had any experience in infiltration or anything similar. The only idea we could come up with was to repeat the strategy we used on Hamun Kost. Grum offered, to transform himself into a small spider, climb up to one of the crenels and peer into some of the castle’s rooms to get a feeling for what was expecting us. To get him to the wall faster than his spider legs would carry him, I offered to carry the small creature to the wall, as I seemed to do the best in sneaking through the forest. The lone hours in my more dubious past have paid some dividends at last. A word and a blow, a few moments later, I was on my way towards the wall of the tower in the north eastern corner of the castle, a small spider carefully held in the palm of my hand. I made sure to keep to the shadows and probe every step before I took it, just as I had learned all those years ago. We reached the wall without any perceivable motion nor sound from the inside of our destination. I reached up as far as I could and let Grum begin his climb up. I saw a small black dot vanish in the crenel, then there was silence. I thought I heard low voices talking to each other, a beautiful female one, matched with a low growl, yet it was to faint to be sure, even less make out any words. And then it happened. A sudden noise like a heavy club hitting the stone wall, followed by the howl of a wolf, a surprised shout that sounded an awful lot like Skarg and a painful cry that I knew to be Grum’s voice, which abruptly stopped. [Note of the author to himself: maybe When I get to this point, I should pause in my tale to relish this moment of excitement. May it be enough to kill some of the audience with the built-up suspense? Maybe it is too harsh an idea. Almost like pushing someone to the edge of a steep cliff and leave him dangling there. Hmm, I might be on to something… I could name it “cliffhanger” and say “well fellows, that’s it for now, the story may continue on the morrow.”… But maybe this concept is too wild. I must think about it!] I stared up at the crenel, blood running through me cold as ice. Had I just lost my trusted friend? Before I could think about anything to do next, a snake wound itself out the opening, suddenly propelled outside and changing into Grum’s shape while falling. I tried my best to catch him yet crumbled under the mass of my friend. We tumbled to the ground, sprang upright and sprinted towards the forest line as fast as possible. Only within the deceptive safety of the trees we allowed ourselves to slow down and catch our breath. The dwarf’s face was disfigured by long claw marks, running from temple to chin and hobbled somewhat on his left leg, yet he seemed otherwise unharmed. I did my best to sustain his weight to alleviate the damaged limb, while we caught up with the others. Kyla’s worried face upon seeing his condition was a heart-warming sight, markings of her well-meaning, although at times rough, spirit. She bowed over Grum, absorbed in some prayer. When she straightened herself, the leg found its strength again and the markings on his face faded to mere faint red streaks. Grum told us, he had seen an unconscious Gundren lying on the floor of the chamber, while a drow and a bugbear were haggling over the price of a map, the latter had acquired from the captive. The female called her collocutor “King Grol”, identifying him as the ominous goblin king, we had heard about. The dark elf was bound to bring map and captive to the black spider. Grum described her as having skin of a dark violet complexity, white, braided hair and wearing a light leather armour, yet lacking other significant features. Kyla did not recognise her as on of the two drows, she had seen in her vision. He was about to leave his hiding spot, when a huge dire wolf, laying in a corner of the chamber, suddenly jumped for the small spider, driven by some animalic instinct. He crushed the spider beneath his paw, which resulted in Grum returning to his own form and exposing him jammed in the small arrow slit. Before the drow or King Grol could reach him however, he sidled out of the wall as a snake, only to be hit once more by the wolf. Then he came crushing down upon me. While we were still discussing, sudden movement at the secret entrance caught our attention. A goblin came out, scanned the parameter and quickly rushed back inside. A goblin, we did not see for the first time. How Droop had managed to get back to Cragmaw castle without being eaten alive on the way, I cannot fathom. Yet he looked a lot less hard-pressed, since last we saw him in the red-band hideout. Whether he would recognize the debt he owed to us was questionable, but if there was the slightest chance to get him on our side, it might be worth taking. Nonetheless, to spare one more life! Grum still was understandably exhausted from his adventure in the crenel and my spine felt a little compressed from a dwarf falling more on my head then into my arms. Thus, we decided, to take watch in the north western and south western corner of the castle, one group consisting of Nysqwen and Archie, the other of Kyla, Grum and myself. We circled back the way we came earlier, leaving human and dragonborn on the northern vantage point. As we drew close to our position, a goblin guard must have seen us from one of the windows in the respective tower, for I was hit by an arrow straight through the leg. The pain was excruciating, I bit my teeth together to stop myself from screaming and giving away even more of our position, as we sneaked deeper into the brush and into cover. There we waited. Kyla, blessings upon her, helped me to withdraw the arrow shaft and we finally got some rest. We scanned the castle and the emerging paths, yet everything stayed quiet. Too quiet. After having someone appear in your window, changing shape twice, leaping out and running into the forest, one would expect the whole castle in utter upheaval, but the opposite was the case. A dead silence hung over the place, which was even more frightening than the just described scenario, for it told us next to nothing about its inhabitants. When we felt rested enough, we went back to meet up with our friends. We discussed how we wanted to proceed about Gundren. We had squandered our surprise element and found ourselves not as well rested or equipped, as we would have liked to be. I came up with the idea, to use the opportunity of the drow transporting Gundren to the black spider, to ambush her and any potential guarding troops, but the argument, she might be able to simply teleport with her prize to her master gave pause to that idea. We saw ourselves with no other option, than to act as quickly as possible and get Gundren out of the castle, while we still knew where he was. And so, we made our way once more to the north side of Cragmaw castle, anxiety rising with every step, yet filled with determination. We had left our friend in the claws of his captors for far too long and finally had confirmation that he still lived. It was the least we could do, to now go all in on this dangerous mission. As we approached the entrance, I offered to sneak ahead to scout what we might be dealing with inside. I had noticed in our advance through the forest that especially Nysqwen and Archie had some troubles in breaking through tight spaces and underbrush, who could blame them with such heavy armour? But it would be no good to throw away what little surprise still might be working for us. I approached the castle slowly, skirting from rock to rock, trying to keep an eye on every crenel and window overlooking this side of the premise. Arriving at the entrance, I slid in behind the cloth, letting as little light as possible fall in behind me and found myself in a small storage room, boxes and crates stuffed in at all sides. To my left, a door exited the room, while ahead of me, a corridor led deeper into the castle. And within the drawn back curtain of said corridor stood Droop. He saw me instantly, there was no way to escape eyes directly fixed on the very opening I just came through. Ere I could react, he shouted something in the cackling goblin tongue and ran from me. Holding back a curse, I sent him straight to the Lady of Dreams, knowing full well that it was too late. I gestured my comrades to follow into the keep and rushed toward the lumped body, dragging him back into the small room to bind and gag him. No sooner did they arrive, than a sound emanated from the very corridor, Droop just tried to escape through. Something awkward between a bird’s cry and a bear’s growl heralded the approaching owlbear. The tracks we had seen on the game trail yesterday already made me fear such an encounter, somehow Grol must have gotten hold of the beast. Heroically as ever, Nysqwen stepped right up in its twisted face, landing a deep blow to its front leg. Grum quickly ran to her aide, his shape once more morphing into the ferocious form of a huge bear, while Kyla, Archie and I held back to not get in the way of their attacks. Heartbeats later, three Hobgoblins breached through the door to fall in our backs. I quickly disposed of one with a formidable rapier puncture in his throat, Kyla took care of a second one while the third trained his arrows upon us. Archie sent his mechanical companion to help with the owlbear, while the young lad himself aimed for the newcomer. The fight did not last long and left only minor wounds on us. Kyla’s addition to our party was a valuable support in dealing with our foes and the rest of us was more and more getting their sea-legs, as Nysqwen would put it. The prospect of finally freeing Gundren fuelled our efforts to new hights. The final hobgoblin however, escaped through the same door he entered and sprinted into the room Grum had seen previously in his spider shape. If anyone in the castle had not taken notice of us before, after this first encounter that was definitely impossible. We lost no time and followed the goblinoid through the door, after checking on Droop, who fell unconscious upon facing Nysqwen. Before we could chase the hobgoblin into King Grol’s chamber, it’s door opened the moment we entered the connecting corridor and the beat-up figure of a dwarf tumbled through, crying for help. Grum immediately rushed forward to cover his friend from any pursuers, closely followed by Nysqwen. Through the open door, two hobgoblins were visible, accompanying the bugbear we knew to be King Grol. Grum, Nysqwen and Kyla rushed through the door to face the captors of the dwarf who finally was back under our protection. Archie sent Ori with them and bravely moved to bar the door to the storage room to defend our backs if need be. As I moved closer to see through the door, I did not believe my own eyes at first. At the north end of the room, the hobgoblin who just escaped from our last encounter was standing, his knife pressed against the throat of – Gundren! King Grol chuckled and warned us to drop our weapons, else his subordinate would end Gundren’s life. Suddenly Archie shouted behind me, and I saw whom we had believed to be Gundren with two knifes flashing in the direction of the dear lad. At last, the copper piece dropped. As there was no sign of the drow anywhere to be seen, there was only one explanation to this twist. Luckily, what was a hinderance when sneaking through underbrush, the armour, Archie carried on his body made up for in protection. And Nysqwen was far from giving up, as she threw one of her axes for the fiend holding Gundren. The flow of time slowed down to a thick syrup, as everyone seemed to watch the weapon whirl through the air, straight for the head of the hobgoblin – who took a quick step aside, escaping the axe and drawing his own blade upon Gundren’s throat in the same fluid motion. The dwarf dropped to the ground. Then everything happened at once. Kyla grasped the situation immediately, clasping her necklace and staring upon the dying dwarf with full concentration. Nysqwen and Grum did not hold back any longer and attacked the enemies, who were joined now by the huge dire wolf, Grum had already be acquainted with. I sent as many of the goblinoids to sleep as possible yet could no longer witness if that was crowned by any success, as I already turned to defend our youngest companion against the fake Gundren. I heard a gurgling sound from Kyla behind me and could only hope that our other friends could help her out while we tried to keep the supposed drow in check. Soon, I managed to draw her attacks away from Archie and saw myself hard pressed with her whirling daggers. They seemed to be everywhere at once, cutting, slicing and stabbing. I felt my arms and legs hit by several blows. Then a stabbing pain in my lungs. Then nothing. When I came to myself again, I saw Grum’s worried face hovering over mine, heard Archie shouting someone was escaping and felt the radiant heat of a small flame close by. My old friend had saved my life from what should have been a fatal blow. Never in my life have I felt such gratitude towards anyone. There may still have been enemies abound, for all I knew, yet he cared for me first, while Kyla, Nysqwen and Archie gave him the protection to do so. The bond, all of us are knitting will be stronger than any iron chain or magical weave that there is in this world. For true friendship can never be shattered, no matter what it is facing. Yet I knew I had to get up, and quick, we still had to bring Gundren to safety, if Kyla had accomplished what she seemed to intend. And Archie just rushed around the next corner, following the escaping drow as it sounded like. I quickly got to my feet, with surprising ease for someone whose lungs just had been ruptured and hasted after Archie. I saw him facing the fake dwarf, he just had caught up with and searched for some final reserves of arcane energy within myself. I knew of nothing better, than to let this creature fall into a fir of hideous laughter, which was enough to bring it to the ground, where Archie stabbed it again and again with his staff, making a bloody mess of the figures torso. The poor boy had suffered such hardship within the last few weeks and now saw two of his friends nearly killed. This seemed to have been too much for him. His stabbing could only be stopped by Nysqwen, who laid her large claw gently on the lad’s shoulder and took him in her arms. And before our very eyes, the shape of the dwarven corpse contorted into a strange, featureless humanoid with dark skin, no hair and an extremely flat nose. I heard about such shape changers back in Neverwinter, but only as part of horror stories, Anataea used to scare me with as a child. I had never knowingly met one before. From King Grol’s former chamber suddenly a deep voice shouted for help. Gundren was trying to pull the corpse of the dead bugbear from a table that caught fire somewhen throughout the fight and shouted, we had to secure the map. Snuffing small fires was something I had learned early on, quickly we searched the former king yet found nothing on his body. After a very thorough inspection of the chamber, we finally found the parchment tucked into a slid at the underside of a small mattress, carelessly placed in one corner of the room. A further search through the eastern wing of the castle led us find the small cell, the owlbear must have been imprisoned in. Back in the storage room, we came just in time to see Droop trying to escape robbing like a caterpillar towards the exit. At this sight, I felt hell break loose inside of me. I cannot remember a time at which I was engulfed in such burning rage and hate as in this moment. All teachings, Anataea had bestowed upon me, always had the same core of focus, self-control and mind over body. There is a shadowed memory of her worried face after I awakened from a fever dream in which I had beaten a boy to a bloody pulp after he bullied me, yet this was only a dream. Now I was only filled by the burning desire to kill that small vermin, for all the suffering his kind had provided for Gundren and in the last hour, for our company. It was Kyla, who came up to me to still my hand, as we should first ask this creature for anything, he might be able to tell us about other goblins or even the black spider. Slowly, like lifting an iron curtain, the burning hate subsided. Now we are assembled in the former makeshift throne room of the goblin king, licking our wounds and resting. I am relieved, none of us got killed today, close as it was for both Kyla and myself. And it is hard to fathom, that we finally freed Gundren. I am secluded now, in a small chamber that may once have served as a bathroom, the others are in the main room. What was taking over back then? Now I cannot fathom harming our captive. He is helpless, probably scared out of his mind and the poor fool was probably just following orders. What made me loose control in such a way? When Kyla calmed me down, I had seen in her eyes an expression, I hoped to never see within my friends. A fear, mixed with uncertainty and otherwise often paired with disgust, when humans crossed paths with one of my kind. I never want to experience this again. Why are we so cursed? What have you done to us, Asmodeus?

Finally - Charge!
5th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Despite the frightening visit last night, we all found rest at some point to break camp early this morning. Long enough had we postponed our setting out to free Gundren – should he still be alive. The first revelation following our awakening was that Kyla did not kill us all in our sleep, contributing to a positive first impression. The second eye-opener was provided by Archie, whose mind apparently even in his sleep worked with a meticulous precision one can only marvel at. He proposed to lay a trap to the dragon, once we returned from our most pressing quest. His idea involved one of the spider carcasses or a similar thing, he would prepare with a small jar in its belly. In said jar, he wanted to contain some acid for one and additionally a scatter of sharp metal shards that would be set off by a small amount of an explosive paste, once the jar was destroyed. This way, he argued, the dragon might be severely damaged from the inside while enjoying his next midnight snack. Hearing these elaborations, one jaw after the other dropped both in awe at such ingenuity and from a frightful shudder in face of such gruesome care. Yet, all of us approved his idea as it certainly was better to harm the treacherous beast from afar. Filled with grim determination after these discussions and a short breakfast, we set out soon after dawn to eradicate the final remains of zombies in the north of the village. Kyla led the way, skirting the outermost borders of the village to avoid a seeking gaze from the tower to our left. Her determination was perceptible, although it did not inhibit her caution to move carefully. The Raven Queen’s doctrines must be quite strict in her perception of undead. When we closed in on the former marketplace, Kyla begged us to stop and remained a few heartbeats in what seemed like silent prayer. I have never before seen a clerical person so close during their communications with their deity, thus I found myself intrigued by this alien form of unity. Sure, I send my prayers to Mystra and sometimes am inclined to believe she grants me small peaks into the powerful mystery that is music, yet such a close relation with a god was new to me. And during her prayers, a calm expression appeared on her face, softening her hard features as she no doubt experienced completeness. When she opened her eyes again, she reassured us that the building at the north end of the place was the last structure containing the ill-begotten zombies and had to be cleansed. Behold those that wield divine power, especially if you are undead as it seems. I will do my darndest, not to stand between her and her will. And will hope for the best that it aligns with the good of our party and my value propositions. Before we approached the house, I offered to sneak ahead to get some intel as to what was awaiting us. The others appreciated this and so I went on my way, silent as was tieflingly possible. Drawing lessons from my last scouting trips I promised to myself to take extra care in looking for heaps of racks. As I approached the building, it quickly became clear that it used to function as the garrison of the village. The walls were sturdier, apart from a few windows arrow slits were carved into the sides and the doors had withstood the test of time better than any we had come across so far. I peered through windows and slits on all three sides not facing the dragon’s tower and indeed could see some motionless corpses covered in the same black smut as the others. In what must have been the main room of the building, none such shapes were apparent in my inspections, however, earlier encounters left me thinking that the shadows might well host more undead. With these discoveries, I returned to my friends to plan our engagement. Our idea was to sneak to the backside of the building and breach in through one door, using the architecture of the rooms to lure the zombies into a spot all of us could wreak havoc upon. To ease our approach, I wanted to try to insulate the house from all outside noises and thus sat down with Rattlepike’s old lyra to weave a net of silence over the place. Kyla reminded me to lift the spell once we were inside, as she otherwise would have no way to communicate with her goddess, which would be essential for her to aid us magically in battle. I had not considered that issue and thus was grateful for her comment. In the upcoming battle, the power I might contribute would be better served in aiding my comrades anyway. The assault on the old garrison went down pretty much according to plan. Grum and Nysqwen formed our front line, followed by Archie with Ori and Kyla. Based on our last encounters, I was better off keeping out off the thick of the skirmish, trying to support my friends to the best of my abilities. I took position at one of the arrow slits to train my crossbow on any movement detectable inside. Were the horrid undead sentient creatures, one could almost have been sorry for them, as Grum with bearish ferocity and a rage filled Nysqwen tore limps and cut off heads, while Ori and Archie took turns lighting corpses on fire. While the others were still busy fighting, I helped Kyla already in piling up the slain zombies in the main chamber of the garrison to feed their bodies to flames. No ten minutes after our attack on the building, we left behind a room quickly filling with smoke and the stench of burning flesh and finally set off southward to take the path Reidoth had described to us. Our way winded alongside the edge of Neverwinter Forest. The euphoric feeling of our last triumph, supported by the relief of leaving the hunting grounds of a green dragon quickly faded away in light of the task in front of us – infiltrating a goblin stronghold with possibly hundreds of the small creatures, all without even knowing, whether Gundren was still alive. After all the fighting, here I finally saw an opportunity to be of greater use to my friends in lifting their mood and directing thoughts to more pleasant directions. I seriously must improve my capabilities if I want to continue traveling with these fine folks without becoming a liability. Therefore, I shall combine Anataea’s teachings and my preliminary discoveries in the arcane art of music to develop skills that may help or protect my friends. I beg Mystra and the legacy of Rattlepike in this old lyra to help me on this journey. The voyage was accompanied by Kyla’s accounts about her previous life as a cleric, how she would conduct weddings and funerals but otherwise life a rather peaceful life. Until the vision the Raven Queen sent her forced her to leave in the hopes of stopping a dooming apocalypse. Talking about a quick turn of fate… We made quick pace, Grum’s ability to navigate us through sometimes rather treacherous areas was without fail. He noticed the narrowest tracks and seemed to know hidden holes in the ground, loose rocks or nasty nettles that would burn through tissue and flesh upon a mere touch before any of us had even spotted such obstacles. It was past noon, when all over a sudden he halted and gesticulated to us to be quiet. All noises that had accompanied our march along the forest had silenced. We peered into the gloomy woods yet could see no movement or other sign that might pinpoint the source for muting life. When we carefully moved closer to the forest, the dwarf saw an old game trail, leading north to south that had seen some travel by creatures swinging forged weapons recently. We could not determine any such creatures being about now and a few minutes later, the forest awakened again. Birds tweeted above us, leaves rustled, and some small animals hushed through the thicket. We decided to follow the trail south as it fell in line with our desired direction and in this manner, we might find what caused the silence. But the next hours passed without any incidents. The trail displayed large traces as might be left behind by owlbears like the one we fought in front of the walls of Neverwinter. Otherwise it seemed to be more frequented by boars. Before long, it twisted back deeper into the forest, thus we left it and returned to our original path, where Grum filled the time lecturing us about the craft of brewing. Already on the lookout for a place to spend the night, with the last hours of daylight we ran blindsided into an ambush set up by five hobgoblins. One arrow missed Nysqwen by inches, another one however stuck Grum square in the shoulder. His cry, a mixture of surprise and pain turned into a low growl as he formed his rage into a ball of blazing fire, he prepared to await the attackers. Then the three melee fighters were upon us. One of them ran past our two fierce warriors and headed towards me but was slain by Kyla before he could reach me. Archie, Nysqwen and Grum dealt with the other two attackers. I used the time granted by Kyla’s action to send the two archers into a deep slumber. We hastened over to them where Nysqwen slayed the first one while I shackled and gagged the second one. As he awoke, I was quick to enthral him with some soft whispers suggesting he was an old acquaintance of ours. Besides a lack of fighting prowess, maybe in such matters I can serve our cause. Charmed, the hobgoblin told us about several entry points into Cragmaw Castle, including a secret one from the north. This might be the easiest way for us to enter the keep unseen. He also told us king Grol would keep a dwarf hostage in his private chamber. I perceived a great feeling of relief upon hearing these words, I had almost lost all hope of seeing Gundren again alive. I could witness a similar expression on the face of my old dwarven friend. In the meantime, Nysqwen had searched the bodies of the slain attackers and revealed a small, crudely drawn picture of herself from one of the hobgoblin’s pockets, bearing the symbol of the black spider. Enraged she asked for the meaning of this but all our captive knew was that the ominous drow had sent out a host of searching parties to stop Nsyqwen from interfering with his business. He and his party had been dispatched by king Grol from Cragmaw castle. With this imminent threat above our heads, we quickly had to find a more secluded place to spend the night before encountering more such search parties. As for the captured hobgoblin we saw no other way than to slay him then and there, which Nysqwen accomplished not without a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. Now we found a small sheltering cave, but our fire has to burn low tonight, Nysqwen will have the first watch. During our dinner I had another revelation while playing a soft ballad. I shed myself of any corporeal concerns and tried to be completely afloat in the notes emanating from the lyra in my hands and my automatically moving lips. And I could feel it! The river of melodies, swinging back and forth in the basin I was laying out for it, yet participating in its shaping. And the instrument of the great bard succumbed to the pull of the flow, producing sounds none of us had ever experienced from an instrument like this, they cannot have been of natural origin yet fitted perfectly within the frame, tone and emotion of the song. And it whispered a promise: Tomorrow will take it away The fear of today It will be gone Due to these magic songs! (With courtesy to Hansi Kürsch and André Olbrich of Blind Guardian, whose genious the final lines are derived from)

An Attempt to End Them Rightly
5th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The end to this day was even more gruesome than its beginning. The men we ate with not an hour ago may have been cultists, worshipping a deity to throw the world into turmoil, lying, deceiving and possibly ruthless folk. Yet, they shared their abode and their provisions with us strangers and here we were, planning to kill them to the last man. Or rather let them be killed or at least weakened by some giant spiders. It was for the greater good, ridding Fearûn from a threat, hardly anyone knew existed. I try to keep telling this to myself. Sometimes the drastic way may be the right one, the only one forward. Until a few weeks back, none of us, except maybe for Nysqwen, had known much fighting. From what we were able to tell by their equipment, Favric and his followers well knew how to defend themselves, thus we judged a head on battle as an unwise course of action. It was Archie’s idea, to involve the remaining two giant spiders we had heard about. He said, it would possess a certain ring of irony to have these alleged servants of Lolth being caught up in a fight for their lives with the eight-legs. I must admit, an amusing thought which might even rid us of two problems at once. So, we tried to construct a plan on how to incite them to fight each other. We planned to create a trace of a strong smell of blood between the nets protruding the spiders’ domicile and the hut, the cultists occupied, then rattle the webs, and see what happened, when the predators went for the cultists. Preferably we would find a way to stir the latter from their refuge to initiate a fight. Archie produced three small vials with a reddish liquid, that on his account would exude the requested odour. I was confident in my abilities to bridge the remaining distance with my own trickeries, much as we had done before in our attempt to discourage the wolves from attacking us on the road to Conyberry. And I was pretty sure, if I could make my audience believe to feel the vibrating steps of the troll closing in on the protagonist of my fable, I would also be able to ring hello with the spiders from afar. A word and a blow, a few minutes later Grum, Nysqwen and Archie sought cover in the abandoned house just south of the location of the spiders while I tried my darndest, not to be found in my preparations. First, everything went smooth as Archie’s cheeks but on my way back to our den, I became aware that the stench of blood did not only appeal to spiders. From the brushes in my back emerged one, two, three – six of these ghastly twig blights. But I was not ready to give up on our plan, I ran towards our ruin, slammed the door shut behind me and made the spider webs vibrate as hard as I could fathom. After what felt like eternity, a set of black eyes and four nauseatingly long legs emerged from the former doorframe of the spider house. And withdrew a few seconds later. The twig blights were still closing in, desperately I tried again to stir the arachnoids into action. The beasts are smarter than I would like to give them credit for, as now we could see them through some fissures in our wall climbing on a tree overlooking their home and watching the surroundings with keen eyes. If we wanted our plan to have any merit, we had to get these cultists into play. In order to stir them from their home, I saw but one chance. I focussed all my will to block any sounds traversing their house, including their own voices. If that would not make them come running, I would not know what might. And luckily it worked. They emerged from both doors and came running towards us the same moment, the first twig blights arrived on our doorstep. Favric was pointing towards us and shouting something to his fellow men. Archie threw Ori outside to greet the animated plants with a warm welcome, Nysqwen readied her fierce glaive and Grum looked about to turn. All I could think of was to rally the approaching humans towards the spiders next to us, thus I sprinted outside, shouted towards them, proclaiming the beasts were pinning us down in our hideout and rushed back into the safety of the walls. They seemed confused as to what was happening, but it was hard to tell if they actually started angling towards the arachnoids, as all around us battle ensued. Ori reduced three of the approaching blights to ashes before they could even come close to us, Grum assumed his bear form and rushed outside. My brave friend did not much concern himself with the danger he might find himself in when all foes closed in around us at once, he only seemed to care for protecting us. If you ever wondered, why you should follow his lead, here is part of the reason! I tried to do my part in the battle by providing a rhythm for Nysqwen to guide her through the fight and help her in a situation of need. Then I trained my crossbow on the nearest blight, alas, with all the chaos around me no bolt found its mark. And now the spiders moved. One crawled towards the approaching cultists while the other began to climb along the wall of our hiding spot. The remaining twig blights were quickly dealt with by Grum, Nysqwen and Archie. This, we figured, was our moment to surprise the dragon cultists and Grum attacked the closest one without warning, almost tearing his leg from the torso of the screaming man. Archie’s staff spewed a ball of fire towards another one. And then, out of nowhere, a female voice cut through the noise. The newcomer was asking who was in the hut while across the meadow in front of us a shimmering white light resembling a lance with a winged head appeared behind one of the cultists and took the man’s life quicker than any of us could react. Any sentient living being in this forsaken town could only be better than spiders, undead, twig blights or cultists. If the calling entity furthermore attacked the cultists, this could only be someone worth speaking to. Archie and I exchanged approving glances and so I answered her. Any further communication however was interrupted by the second spider entering our building through the open window frame. Up close and personal, the beast was even more disgusting than from our short glimpse when it peeked out of their lair. Its hairy body with four too many limbs moved far too quickly as it struck straight for our youngest companion. It near broke my heart to see Archie faced with such a monstrosity and the pain that flickered on his face. But Nysqwen was quick to react, I have never seen her swing her weapon with such ferocity, and severed four of the spider’s legs in a single blow. I shot another bolt at the spider yet could only tickle the fell creature. To my surprise, Archie did not seem as badly hurt as I believed on first glance, his oversized armour certainly did its job. I knew him to be in safe hands with the strongest dragonborn I know of and decided to help Grum in his brave stand alone against possibly five cultists, a spider and in the worst case the ominous woman. But when I stepped outside, I quickly could see I was coming too late to make any difference in the outcome of the fight. Grum must have slain three cultist all by himself, their shattered bodies lining out a crimson trail leading behind two trees where I could hear Favric’s laugh and the dark growling of my friend. North of me stood the newcomer. She was clad in shining metal armour from head to toe, blond, almost white hair lining the beautiful, darkly hued features of a half-elven face. She was skewering the other spider with her light lance. The remaining two cultists lay a few feet away from her, likely suffering a similar fate to the beast. After ridding herself of her attacker, the woman approached me, asking for my name. Simultaneously I heard Grum’s growl turn quickly from a bear to his own to a wolf’s snarl and the fleeing feet of a human. I excused myself to the woman, ran south to gain line of sight with what was happening behind the trees. There was Favric trying to flee, followed by a great grey wolf. I collected my last reserves, focussing on Rattlepike’s old lyra within my hands and sent forth a few notes of power. Amidst his flight, Favric toppled, slithered a few feet through the grass and was sleeping soundly, letting forth soft snores. From inside our hut, the death squeal of the last arachnoid signalled an end to our fight. Only now I could turn my fullest attention to the woman in plate. She introduced herself as Kyla Grave, a cleric following the doctrines of the Raven Queen, a goddess aspected with life and its ultimate end in the moment of dying. A rather dark premise, I mustered, but I can understand the notion of death being an inevitable part to life. Some scholars I even heard musing that only death would lend meaning to life for eternity is a notion that would render any excitements dull and lacklustre. And I admit, there is a certain element of truth in these thoughts. Kyla continued that apart from seeking to eradicate the undead in Thundertree, as the Raven Queen took issue with those eluding the eternal slumber, she was here on behest of a vision she had witnessed in her dreams a few weeks past. A vision, in which she had seen myself and my companions being intertwined with the impending doom of Faerûn. A vision, allegedly sent by her goddess, she followed suit immediately to figure out what was going on. A vision that was accompanied by others, showing her pictures of drows conducting dark rituals in a crystalline cave, others talking to another half-elf in a forest. And whatever the meaning behind all that was, she was determined to figure it out. I was taken aback by this revelation. Could one of the drows in her vision be the one we know as the ‘black spider’? Who was this half-elf? I will have to ask Kyla more about her, I have an ill feeling about this. And most importantly, what has all of this to do with us?! Three weeks ago, I was a simple bard in the bland streets of Neverwinter, now I should be caught up with the demise of this world? That was much to process at once. The others now joined in around us, Grum dragging the still sleeping Favric and quickly binding his hands behind his back. They introduced themselves as well while Kyla repeated her story. The expression on their faces resembled my thoughts. We in turn told Kyla about our mission to find Gundren in a goblin stronghold. She offered to join our quest, should we be prepared to first help her clean out the remaining undead in Thundertree, to which we happily agreed. The cleric seemed to know quite well how to defend herself, a powerful ally would be a great help with what lay before us, although her rushed departure upon her vision without any clue other than my name and the name of the village of Thundertree said much about her attitude to first act and then ask questions. Before we will eventually reach Cragmaw castle, there will be a few days’ time to get to know her a little better. Maybe then we can have a sophisticated judgement regarding her intentions. During our conversation, Favric had awoken again and was furious at his captivity. He tried to escape both through robbing away, trying to plea, command, and reason. But we stayed determined, not to let go of him. People with such foul intentions had to be dealt with. Kyla was the first to simply wanting to slaughter the man but Archie, Grum, Nysqwen and I rejected, as none of us wanted to slay a bound captive in cold blood. Thus, we carried him back to Reidoth, wondering if the old druid might find any worth in the man. He did not. He seemed to be of the same conviction as Kyla, the man would best serve dead. Desperately Favric tried to command Nysqwen once more to set him free. His words must have been intertwined with some kind of fell magic, as she obeyed his words. The moment his shackles dropped however, Kyla spoke one brief word of power, killing the man where he knelt. The shock on Archie’s face mirrored my own. True, the cultist was our enemy and about to escape. Yet he still was our captive, unarmed and mostly defeated. Granted, I would not have known what else to do with him either, but this felt like cold blooded murder. Maybe it was the right thing to do, I still have not quite found my piece with this though. Her rushed actions may bring Kyla into quite some trouble someday. We will have to keep an eye on her for the time being, until she has earned herself the trust we hold in such high regard in our group. In the silence that followed Favric’s death, I recognised how weary I was from the battles of the day. The same was apparent for my friends. Reluctantly we decided, our departure would have to wait until the next day, similar to the purging of the remaining undead in Thundertree. After her surprising slaying moments earlier, it was quite amusing to see the shock on Kyla’s face when she heard that there was a dragon occupying the old tower on the hill and our intent to deal with him once we found Gundren. While I fear that encounter as well, her expression in that moment was priceless! The remaining evening, Grum and I spent searching through the spiders’ and the cultists’ lairs for any useful items for our further travels. Indeed, we found some rations in the house Favric and his men, accompanied with three diamonds. They likely intended to bribe the dragon with these, now they might serve to feed us for a couple of years. In the webs of our second destination we found the gruesome remainders of a sucked corpse in an old cocoon. I could not bear the sight for long, yet Grum found a small vial on his body containing a healing potion. While we were searching, Nysqwen and Kyla went about to give a cremation burial to the slain men. Kyla insisted it was important to her and her goddess to give these people a proper final rest to give a proper, respectful end to their lives. This act softened my views on her somewhat. She might be quick to act and not too hesitant in killing those she disagreed with, but this respectful gesture attested to a caring mind after all. Never judge a person too quickly, Morthos, they might surprise you, ere you know it! We all spent the night in the now abandoned house of the cultists, standing guard in turn. As Kyla offered to take the first watch, we others quickly fell asleep. Only to be awakened by here panicked, hushed voice soon after. And before she had time to explain, there was a sudden rushing outside the windows, like a strong wind emerging not fifty paces distant from us and lifting into the air. Kyla had seen the dragon land in our place of battle against the cultists and rushed to awaken us. As we peered outside, nothing could be seen, nor heard anymore. The beast was gone. Alert, we went back to try and get some rest. Now it is my watch and the night is quiet. No unexpected visits anymore, hopefully this will last to the morning. We will have to make good time to catch up with our delay in helping Grum’s old friend!

Of Small Trees and Large Spiders
4th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

It was a quiet night at least. And thankfully so, for what encounters and revelations have marked this morning and noon alone, could fill hours of story time. With the break of dawn, the four of us packed our belongings and set off for the former town of Thundertree. No one spoke much as we approached the withered ruins, all feeling the eerie stain of some dark magic clinging in the air and fearing the warnings we encountered last night. The town that covered the glade in front of us probably never was large or particularly crowded. But the silence emanating now from the crumpled buildings was almost deafening, so absolute was it. Nothing moved, no bird sang, no mouse rustled through the brushes. Were it not for the desperation to finally find answers to our search for Cragmaw Castle, I could have well done without ever setting foot into the cursed town. Yet how it stood, there was no way around it. We entered from the north west on what once must have been the main road in and out. Most houses in our vision were undeserving of the name anymore, although some still stood with closed doors and barred shutters. In the town’s centre rises a small hill with the old remnants of a tower with a collapsed roof. To avoid undesired attention, we tried to keep as quiet as possible and not shout for Reidoth. We saw our only choice in checking house after ruin for any signs of the druid, hoping for the best as to not being ambushed. The first house we came to was quickly identified as a former inn by the sign above the door, the mug in the horse’s hoofs gave it away rather quickly. I snuck up on one of the windows to scout for any signs of life yet could only see old furniture and heaps of rags or other fabric. Or so I thought. The moment we opened the door for a closer inspection, the two bundles on the floor suddenly moved and began shuffling towards us. In contrast to the undead we encountered with Hammun Kost, these creatures were covered in black smut from head to toe, which only served to make them appear more dreadful. Later we mused, this coating might have some connection with the eruption of Mount Hotenow. Although this might have been the reason for me not recognizing them for what they were in the first place, it is hard to face the fact that my friends were unprepared for this encounter due to my sloppiness… I have to be more careful next time! Without a man like Hammun around, we quickly went to business with the corpses, Grum und Nysqwen bravely in the front line accompanied by Ori, while Archie and I kept a little behind to make the best of our Mystra given abilities and guard our back. Archie’s magical shield worked true wonders, as Nysqwen was targeted by an undead claw that otherwise certainly would have left its mark. She countered it by almost cleaving the creature in half. The triumph quickly turned sour however as a cloud of black dust emanated from the slain body, filling the air around it to blur vision and greatly hinder breathing. While we were still concerned with the other zombie, two further creatures crept from an adjacent room to join the fight. Luckily, they died for good easily enough before they could harm anyone severely. Shaking off the last effects of the black dust clouds, we searched through the inn for any clues regarding Reidoth, without success. It is truly astounding how our perception of the world around us must have changed over the past weeks. Before our search for Gundren, none of us, well perhaps with Nysqwen being the exception, would have been prepared for such encounters. And it still bestows fear and dread upon me, thinking how easily one of my friends could perish or what still lies ahead. Yet, we all brushed off the surprise of these new foes with relative ease to get our focus back on finding the druid and ultimately the captured dwarf. Thus, we continued our search and faced a couple of less well-preserved sets of crumpled walls. As we approached the ruins, what on first glance had looked like small shoots revealed itself to be two small wooden figures, no taller than my hip, standing motionless in the gloomy underbrush. None of us had ever seen or heard of such creatures, we stood in awe at their humanoid, wooden features. Grum tried to talk to them for any reaction, yet none came. Suddenly, following some intuition, I began humming a low tune. And behold! Both figures began swinging softly in tune to the music! My conviction remains, music is the most powerful force in all the realms, connecting each and everything. Knowing its secrets would open up immeasurable possibilities – let us pray that no one ever finds such power. But the instinctive connection established by a few gentle notes fascinates me. I wonder how many wars would have been avoided, had both sides relied on such a mutually understandable language. Although such a feat surely is above any living being, I know of, should one master the craft, there might be endless possibilities… For now, my musing was suddenly interrupted by Archie, who hissed that more tiny trees were approaching from all sides. And these seemed far less impressed by my musical prowess. Quite the opposite, they rushed towards us, thorn-like twigs raised, aiming for our faces. Once more, Archie’s caution saved us from the worst as we could ready our weapons just in time to defend our hides. On top of that, his natural connection with fire proved a valuable asset against an enemy purely made from wood. Archie and Ori wreaked havoc among the small creatures, against which even Nysqwen’s fierce battle axe paled in comparison. The boy sure has learned how to look after us, I am glad our past experiences did not shy him away but rather made him embrace our company as much as I do. One of the two initially ensnared figures joined his kin in their attack of our group, the other however was still swinging softly when we had reduced the last of our foes to splinters. I cannot fathom what made the difference for this one, but I felt a strange feeling of connectedness to it, a fragile, delicate bond of harmonies, crafted to breed understanding. It did not seem indifferent to us beyond the sound of music, yet in this it was complacent. I endeavour to learn more of such unforeseen effects in my craft, however, this has to wait until we find Gundren and this black spider. After a short rummaging around in the ruins for anything useful, we discovered a small casket, containing a surprising amount of coins. Small village that Thundertree might have been, it certainly was not a poor one, judging by the remaining architecture around us and this find in particular. Nysqwen took care of our find and we set out again on our search. The next house we came upon was in a significantly better shape than any we had seen so far. Moreover, its door was reinforced, and the shutters barred with additional wood, as to keep abreast the perils we have encountered so far. The only sensible conclusion was that this house was occupied by someone more loquacious than the undead, namely the druid we sought. Upon our knocking, the door was opened by a tall, white-bearded man in a leaf-green cloak. His eyes measured us from hard but not unkind features, before he enquired our intentions. In the following conversation, he indeed announced himself as Reidoth and bade us enter his homestead to bar the other inhabitants of Thundertree from an unpleasant surprise. He told us that apart from the small creatures he called twig blights and the undead, a few giant spiders roamed the village, a revelation that was greeted with disgust by Nysqwen but keen interest by Archie. Yet the most surprising revelation was a green dragon, who claimed the old magicians tower we saw from afar as his new domicile and hoard not two weeks ago. What the beast was doing here, he could not say, only that green dragons tend to be deceptive, cunning creatures who generally are only interested in their own affairs. They thrive in lulling trespassers in a false sense of security before dissolving them with their acidic breath. Reidoth knew of no accounts were a green dragon had not been an evil creature, which was in line with our limited knowledge of such creatures. Only Archie seemed to know almost more than the druid, knowledge he had acquired in some old book, tainted as it may be through the author’s lens. Soon after the dragon, Reidoth continued, a group of dark clad men must have arrived in the village, occupying one of the houses to the south-east. They wore strange masks and hushed through the village the past days. We promised to cast an eye on these people as we were bound to recover the lost heirloom of lady Dendra before we would leave again. In the matter of dealing with the dragon, Grum and Reidoth shared the opinion that it was a threat to the surrounding forest and a disturbance in the balance of nature, an abomination that had to be dealt with. For some reason, the old druid seemed somewhat reluctant to acknowledge my friend as a full-fletched colleague in the craft – maybe the arrogance of the old, judging youth for its lack in experience. But their equal love and care for nature seemed to bridge that gap. I wonder how he will view Grum, when he has taken care of the dragon with only our modest help. Grum certainly is not a dwarf to be underestimated! We recounted our story of finding Gundrin and the ominous name of Cragmaw Castle, which he recognised at once. As we stated our intentions to put an end to the Goblin raids, he voiced his approval as they were a thorn in the side of natural balance for the past years, as he put it. He was willing to mark the location of the old castle on our map and told us a path through the forest for us to reach the keep as quickly as possible. As we spoke about the black spider, Nysqwen mentioned, she heard in Neverwinter this ominous figure would be a dark elf. Upon this remark, the druid mused that he had heard of a dragon, who could take the shape of an elf since the tragedy of the spell plague. This left us with more than just an uneasy feeling… Still, we promised to return afterward to deal with the matter of the dragon. Yet for now, our first destination was the eastern side of the village to get a feel for the alien company, Reidoth mentioned. On our way through the ruins we encountered more twig blights, Archie quickly burned to ashes and came upon an old smithy where two more smut-covered zombies were slain. When we exited the former workshop, for the first time we saw incredibly large spider webs covering the front yard of two adjacent buildings. Reidoth mentioned, he knew of two more giant spiders roaming about, the others were killed either by the dragon or the foreigners. Carefully, Archie sent Ori to spy the way to what looked to be the old alchemy shop, Lady Dendra told us about. As he came close to the webs, the small barrel sprouted from Ori’s back and spewed a column of red fire in their general direction. Noiseless they burned away, paving our way into the old shop. Luckily, no spiders or other creatures awaited us inside and we found the small box with a golden necklace inside. In the little light that entered the building, it glimmered beautifully, untainted throughout all these years. When we come back to Phandalin, the heirloom finally will rest upon the shoulders of a Dendra once more. A few more steps brought us in sight of the largest and best-preserved building, we had seen so far. This must have been the one occupied by the dark-clad men. We tried to eavesdrop on what was going in inside but could only hear conversation in a language unknown to us. As we had no business with these people beforehand, we decided to simply knock and see what would happen. Hopefully, these people would be well-reasoned. Instead of the door, the window shutter nearby was opened slightly, a masked face peering from the gloomy inside. A mask instantly recognisable. At least if one knew what was spoken about in hushed tones in the darkest corners of the worst quarters of Neverwinter. It was a mask, worn only by members of the Cult of the Dragon. This unholy organisation can at best be described as plain mad, megalomaniac and nihilistic. They crave a pact with all evil dragons in Faerûn for power and influence. Some rumours even speak of intentions to bring Tiamat back into our realm. Upon the faces of my friends I could read that such knowledge was only mine and I decided to play dumb for the time being until these men revealed their intentions. The man in the window asked for our names, which we told him, and our intentions, which we stated as being curious travellers, interested in the history of this place. He introduced himself as Favric. He and his company allegedly are here to speak to the dragon to discover his intents and, if possible, convince him to take refuge elsewhere or kill him for good. He stated, they were concerned for the safety of villages nearby, not that there are any, and that they were here to protect society from such dangers, a blatant lie in my books. Yet, I played along and offered our help, should they need it, to convince the dragon. This seemed to enlighten the man somewhat. I have a hunch that in his eyes, we would be a proper sacrifice to the dragon to get on with their real intentions, which can be anything but good. We asked if we may enter to avoid longer exposure to the doubtlessly surrounding zombies and twig blights, this would also allow us to get a better measure of their company. He agreed under the condition, we would all lay our weapons aside, out of reach for anyone. As if their presence here and demeanour so far would in and off itself not already be suspicious enough. But we complied, although it was visibly hard for Nysqwen to do so. Once inside, we were treated to a common meal with the six cultists, all sitting on the floor and breaking bread. When Grum asked the men about their masks, Favric claimed them to resemble bats in honour of their sect to the goddess Lolth. I almost had to laugh, as that certainly was no better disguise than the truth of their cult. The Demon Queen of Spiders is certainly not well regarded by anyone but the drow. Favric however claimed, she was just misunderstood in her intentions and spun a few further lies to make her appear not the evil demon she is known to be. He even dropped his mask to show us, they were indeed human, not drow. He claimed, Lolth had an ancient feud with Tiamat, their motivation to get rid of this green dragon. Even though he openly stated, green dragons were deceiving beasts, he clung to his story of them wanting to talk the dragon away from Thundertree. We pretended to offer our help with their task, after we would have dealt with finding a lost friend of ours. Even if the knowledge my friends had regarding their true identity was not the same as mine, without a shadow of a doubt did they not believe a single word they had heard thus far. Soon after the lunch we took our leave, purporting to travel south to Cragmaw Castle, but then swinging around to speak to Reidoth again. When we told him about what intel we gathered regarding the newcomers, I had filled in my friends beforehand, he looked extremely worried, mirroring what each of us felt. This Dragon Cult affair had to be dealt with as soon as possible. Now we are discussing, how to deal with six well-armoured, possibly fell-magic wielding cultists. We have to finish this today, Gundren cannot wait any longer. The dragon itself will have to wait until he is safe. And I cannot say I would be sad about not meeting a hateful, cunning beast the size of a small house. Should we survive all that is to come, the prospect of facing this creature already gives me cold sweats.

A Flying Visit in Neverwinter
3rd of Flamerule, 1481 DR

There certainly is no rest to be found when adventuring. Four days ago, we started our journey back in the direction of Neverwinter. We arrived yesterday and are already on the road again. Immediately following our departure from Phandalin, still saddened by the little time we could spend in the re-prospering village, I could no longer compose myself. Regret and shame were gnawing at me ever since Halia told me her secret and it was about time to let go of the anguish and throw myself at the mercy of my companions. But, oh what joy! I could only marvel at the understanding and even appreciation they showed in the face of my candour. Truly, after all these years of spite and disregard I was confronted with outside of our group of close friends, how do I deserve such friendship? I will be forever grateful for Grum, Nysqwen and Archie. May they live long and prosper. The next two days were quick to pass, smiles and laughter being constant attendants despite the prisoner in our company and the depressing notion of Gundren still being held captive or worse. We are beginning to understand that filling the day with worries does not lead to anything other than despair, so better to laugh as long as there is time while not losing focus of the dire tasks ahead. At some point during our travels, Nysqwen dubbed our oxen “Munchy” and “Crunchy”. She may not be the sharpest, but it is good natured humor, so why not? Our first night after leaving Phandalin behind, we spent in a small ditch Grum found. We were shielded against unwanted eyes there and got sufficient rest. We decided against a return to Skarg’s hideout, partly because of our dwindling supplies, partly due to the bandit on our carriage. Thus, we made good pace and reached the High Road before nightfall. The second night was even more cosy than the first as we found shelter on the small farm of Bor and his family. We were allowed to sleep in his barn and even offered dinner and breakfast! The evening we spend merrily with the family and staff, feasting and dancing to a few of my humble tunes. It’s evenings like these that really illustrate why simple folk like us should look out for one another. Amidst the worries and pain of the world, spreading what mirth we can shall be our pursuit! And with all the pecuniary fortune we assembled so far, it seemed only right and proper to pay these kind folks some extra for their troubles. After our third day of traveling, we drew close to Neverwinter. On the road during the day we might well have seen more people than in the last two weeks combined. Nysqwen grew increasingly more excited at the notion of seeing the sea again. By now, a faint smell of salt and the sound of collapsing waves signified its proximity. We set up our camp a few paces off the road again and quickly went to sleep. It was during Archie’s watch the beast appeared. Suddenly rattled awake by his desperate cry for help, we charged out of our tents. And faced a monstrosity. Its shoulders easily level with the top of the Dragonborn’s head, thick, dark fur covering a massive body and large, gleaming, unblinking eyes staring at us over a sharp beak. An owlbear, a fierce predator seldomly found so close to civilisation. And without warning, it charged at us. His speed and agility were astounding for a beast of such a mass and were it not for Archie’s early rallying cry and our combined forces, it might have torn us all to shreds. As it were, after a short but hefty fight the beast was worn down and put to sleep by a spell. Here we hesitated. It seemed like ruthless murder to just end its life while being helpless, yet we could not fathom a way to calm it enough to convince it of a peaceful departure from one another. Owlbears are fabled for their ferocity and anger and from our short time in the presence of one, we had every reason to believe these tales. Nysqwen offered to take care of the gruesome deed and swiftly decapitated the still sleeping creature. She also collected some trophies, something she certainly adopted during her upbringing, there must have been some brutal traditions there… After our fight, we barely got any more sleep and so we continued our traveling early in the morning. The gates of Neverwinter soon sprouted from the misty morning air in front of us. The city certainly had seen better days and the chasm cleaving through our old district still spilled forth vile monsters. So, it was not an unfamiliar view to see the entry into the city well-guarded. After telling the guard about our whereabouts and pointing out the prisoner, we quickly ended up speaking to the captain on duty. He took care of the bandit in exchange for some gold coins. The Many-Arrow orcs in the northern district still seemed to keep to themselves and honour the contract, hence he appeared alarmed upon hearing about our skirmish with the scouting party at Wyvern Tor. Hopefully, the surrounding cities or this Lord’s Alliance can do something about the raids, Neverwinter stood witness to what determined orc forces can accomplish. We already knew our stay would be short, thus we split up inside the city walls to mind our respective businesses. I headed towards the old ramshackle building, I knew I would find Anataea, to tell her about my adventures and catch up with what has befallen them since we departed. I wandered through the familiar alleys, excited about finally speaking to her again. I was all the more surprised to find the hovel abandoned. It did not look like a hasty departure, yet dust had begun to settle already. The broken chair still leaned against the wall, but that was the only thing reminding of its former inhabitants. Confused and slightly worried I jogged through the city to search for my friends at other often occupied spots until from a branching jitty, Sven emerged. The young orc was only 12 summers old, yet his voice was the deepest amongst us all, making him the bass in all our combined shows, and he always had showed tremendous amounts of talent for singing. Now his deep rumble startled me from my contemplations as he merrily greeted me. He said, they all moved to a new place about a week ago and promised to lead me there at once. As our way took us ever closer to Neverwinter River and abodes around us grew taller, broader and brighter, I wondered what Sven was up to. Before I could ask, he stopped in front of a large, well-built house right at the riverbank. And in the doorframe, Anataea waited and smiled. Her joy at our reunion was genuine and matched mine, yet there was something going on I could not decipher. We went inside and sat down at a large, new table on comfortable chairs. My initial surprise about this new homestead she winked aside and just said, a certain benefactor had supported them with a significant amount of coin. She refused to elaborate this statement politely and so I began telling the tale of my past adventures. She was as good an audience as one can hope for and showed genuine interest. She had heard about an enclave of Harpers in the city and encouraged me to seek contact with them. In turn she recounted, that no further disappearances had to be endured during my absence, only Sven was chased by some hooded men one evening. Luckily however his strong legs facilitated his escape. Following my tale, the conversation drifted into some small talk and I was glad she is doing as well as she is. She visibly struggled between wanting to tell me what was going on with the new house and for some reason being not allowed to do so. I did not begrudge her reluctance; there always were things we did not talk about combined with a mutual respect for each other’s secrets. She will have a good reason to leave me in the dark there. But her trust in me seemed to get the better of her at least to some degree, as she told me to look for someone named Birel if I’d desire to know more. Whatever is going on there, I will only enquire it to a point that does not cause any troubles for Anataea and the children. My own cursed curiosity however will bring me to do some investigation anyway, I know myself… Hopefully, the Aren affair will not repeat itself… It was a real pleasure to finally be back home again and meet my friends, especially my mentor. When I left to run some more errands, I requested to give a performance with a few others in the Singing Anvil in the evening, to which they gladly agreed. Grum and the others were quite amused by our show, the atmosphere in the old inn was seldom as exuberant as it was yesterday. I invited Nysqwen to stay the night at our hoe, as she has no other place in Neverwinter and it probably was for the best that we could lean on each other on the way home, drunk as we were. Even Archie stayed longer than on other occasions and I think I even saw him drink some beer. This morning we equipped ourselves with some new armour, my old leather garment certainly had seen better days and with Thundertree being our next stop, there is no end in sight to the fighting. Nysqwen has acquired an amazingly well-fitting set of half-plate, apparently made by a dwarf Archie knew. And so, before noon we were on the road again, traveling east towards the former village. It took the whole day to come within sight of the first signs of a lost civilisation and we are resting now before we will enter the ruins tomorrow. Grum found a message in druidic signs that spoke about a great danger from undead and something he called “plant-monster”. Are these the first tokens of Reidoth? Hopefully, we can still find him, and I pray to Mystra that he might know something about the location of Cragmaw Castle. Otherwise I don’t see another way how we might still have at least a slight chance of rescuing Gundren. But for now, let’s hope the night won’t reveal more terrors like the Owlbear fore Neverwinter.

Wand’ring and Trading
29th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

We slept a few miles away from the cave to make sure, none of the orcs would be paying us a deathly visit during the night. And a beautiful night it was, a clear, star studded sky sparkled high over our small camp site. This close to the mountains, not many forest animals were foraging anymore, also reducing the danger of any predators setting their eye upon us. As was his daily routine, Archie quickly went about setting traps all around us for even more safety while Grum and Nysqwen handled dinner preparations. All I could do to not feel in their way was to fill the empty air around us with some notes, a first attempt to capture our deed of cleansing the orc band. Luckily, they seemed to appreciate my efforts, reducing my feeling of being the lazy one out. After the troubles of the day, everyone was tired and thus tranquillity quickly settled as one after the other fell asleep. On the next day we decided, if we were to travel in the direction of Thundertree next, we might as well stop at Old Owl Well to see what Hammun had to say to our dealing with the orcs. Once we arrived at his tent, the previous chill of unease clambered back into my spine as again we were faced with his undead, silent followers before Hammun himself exited into the yard. His expressionless face did not move or otherwise reveal his thoughts during our tale. Yet he seemed somewhat pleased, maybe even surprised at our help with his affairs. Still he would not let on about what he was actually searching. Nonetheless he offered us a reward, where none was agreed upon before. He gave us a choice between a sealed tubemade from a single bone, likely fitting parchment scrolls of some variety, as Grum had seen him studying some of its contents the night he snuck into his tent, and a smaller wooden and richly decorated box. What might have been in it we will probably never know, as after some debate we settled for the scrolls. My thought was, we were none too poor to require a monetary compensation at this point. Rather I would have liked to learn something about this man or his research. Archie tended rather to the small casket but after some convincing he acquiesced. Within the tube we found indeed three scrolls, yet to my astonishment, I could only read a single one. It was a type of scroll I had only heard about before. It carried a spell, one that I might only describe as being capable to destroy another spell. For some reason the author had written in bold letters “Dispell Magick” on its very top. Presumably an odd naming convention within the circles of the necromancer. There was no doubting the authenticity of the scroll, it brimmed with magical energy. From what I heard, such scrolls may only be used once, we may get good value out of this use though, should we face even more dangerous encounters than before. Archie could identify the other two parchments as one scroll of “Day-light” and one of “Dethward”. Being able to light a dark place or even avoid a fatal blow at the right moment again seems to be quite powerful. For want of a better explanation I assume that Hammun may have crafted these himself. If that is indeed the case, he is quite a capable scholar! Let’s hope we won’t have to face him head on in a battle. As Hammun did not come across any more talkative than at our first encounter, we quickly were on the trail out of the valley. At some point a gigantic bird, possibly an eagle, passed over our heads but did not take any notice of our party. We travelled for the rest of the day until in the evening, we finally emerged from the mountainous region and came in sight of the Triboar Trail once more. During the night we all were suddenly awoken by a terribly loud thunder rolling through our camp. As Nysqwen, Archie and I emerged from our camps, still in night gowns but weapons at the ready, we found Grum standing near our campfire with outstretched arms. He told us he was being attacked by animals he called stirges. These creatures resemble some disturbing combination between a large mosquito and a bat and were probably attracted by the smell of our warm blood. Grum’s thick skin displayed some nasty wounds, were three of the animals hat bored their probosces into his body. Knowing only a soft tune that I have felt lessening physical pain, I tried to alleviate his struggles. On the next morning, after ha hearty breaktfast provided by Nysqwen (yes, dragonborn CAN cook, quite well at that), my old friend appeared as good as new and thus we continued on the Trail. Our rations were dwindling and with the intend to also speak to the respective inhabitants about our successful quests, we decided to make halt in Phandalin before turning northward. It must have been around noon when we discovered a lone wanderer with his cart approaching us on the road from the direction of Phandalin. It was not long before we also could here him sing to himself a merry tune, very common amongst travellers. I could not help myself, I just had to join in his singing. He did not stop in his verses, although he first looked surprised but then his smile grew ever wider as we fuelled each other to ever greater fervency before ending on a beautiful, long halted note. The cheerful man introduced himself as Tiblen, a pedlar and traveling craftsman. While from the first moment he was easy to embosom, it amazed me again how quickly a connection can be established between complete strangers just by sharing knowledge and perhaps passion with regards to songs, be it specific pieces or music in general. He himself must have been alone on the road for some time, even if he came from Phandalin. To not just meet friendly people again but immediately share some of one’s heart and mind captured into the voiced notes… It makes me proud to be able to call myself a bard, I appreciate Anataea and the welcoming attitude I have learned from her ever more. Amongst some common paraphernalia, Tiblen’s wares also featured an assortment of potions of which we bought 4 to increase our chances of surviving upcoming battles. Alongside with these, he also had a discounted new cloak for Grum. Admittedly, he looks quite handsome in this new attire! Nysqwen successfully fended off the merchant’s attempts to treat her to a pair of new earrings that were of the same colour as her scales. I should have bought these if only to enjoy the sight of our tough warrior with this delicate jewellery. Have to be mindful of that earlier next time! Throughout his travels, Tiblen had only come across the name Cragmaw castle more recently in Neverwinter, where it apparently keeps the guards on their toes. Rumours claim the king of the Cragmaw goblin tribe would reside there, a tribe loosely constructed from many smaller clans. That is somewhat in unison with what we have discovered so far. But no one seems to know anything about the location of this place. Hopefully, Reidoth will be able to finally point us in the correct direction. By now I am wondering though. Did not Sildar mention Gundren being taken from Skarg’s cave directly to this ominous bastion? If so, should there not be a path linking the two? I shall share these considerations with the others, maybe this might be another clue… After we parted ways with Tiblen, whishing him the best of luck for his perilous travel to cities farther in the east, We continued our journey for the rest of the day. After an uneventful night and some more hours of driving, in the late afternoon of the next day we arrived again in Phandalin. The oxen recognized their old home, for they automatically steered towards their feeding trough behind Barthen’s Provisions. We left them behind to visit Daran Edermath, although poor Nysqwen cast a very wistfull look to the two loyal animals. Her grief could not last long however, as Carp, the young halfling boy rushed to greet us and especially her. Her caring attitude at our last visit must have left a deep impression with this one, he could not hear enough from her about our adventures. I remotely walked next to the two and did my best not to break into a broad grin. This caring side of her might just be the cutest thing I have witnessed on our journey so far! Before we reached Daran’s orchard, Carp headed home. We were invited by the old adventurer to a cup of tea and a few of his apple delicacies, which were quite the improvement over dry meat, stale bread and old cheese on the road. It is good to be back in civilisation once again! We told him of our adventures, especially of course our encounters with Hammun Kost. Daran was afraid of what the necromancer might find there in his search but gave in to our judgement of nothing eviller than the summoning of zombies by his hand going on at Old Owl Well. Still he said, he would keep an eye on the happenings there and inform his order of our report. He turned out to be a member of the Order of the Gauntlet, a pious organisation in Faerun that sought evil wherever it might hide to eviscerate it from this world. I tried to convince him that it was not for us to kill Hammun just in fear of what he might be after, if indeed he was just a curious scholar. That gave Daran some pause although I am not sure, if he can really agree with that. Once we finished our tea and wished each other farewell, we turned to visit sister Garaele in her shrine to tell her the tale of our meeting with Agatha. Being not fond of living through the memories of our time in her old abode I was relieved that Garaele at least seemed to be pleased by the answer Agatha gave us. To her, the name Tsernoth, the necromancer from Iriaebor, seemed more familiar than it was to any of us. Even the fact that this piece of information was already a hundred years old did not disconcert her. To our question, what she or her principals would want with this book she told us, she is a member of the Harpers, another old faction that searches this world for forgotten magical artefacts while trying to help the oppressed, keeping powerful tyrants away from power and instead giving it to the small people for them to develop freely. Her beliefs and ideals appealed to me in a way I have felt with no other of these factions we have gotten to know. Everyone seemed to be just out for power, enforcing their ideology, however good they might view their intentions and alignment, on everyone else. This power struggle never ceased, always let to people being left out or suffering. These Harpers tried to employ the opposite. Everyone shall have their place; every view is precious, and you should rather help others than seek power for yourself. It baffles me, how infiltrated everyday life is by one or multiple of the factions we have encountered in this small town, although I had heard about them before, only in hushed tones. The Harpers seemed different. They much more aligned with what I learned from Anataea or could observe in our own adventures. Archie was intrigued as well, he clung to her lips while she spoke about their hunt for old artefacts. From what I have learned so far about the young human, his one true passion is his craft and the intricate ways one can manipulate magical energy to alleviate the burden of life. In his case, a special focus lay on objects being infused with magic. So, who could blame him for getting excited at such a revelation? There was an entire organisation dedicated to the search for said objects. Before we left, sister Garaele took it upon herself to indoctrinate Archie and myself into the ranks of the Harpers. We may call ourselves “watchers” from now on. I am curious and excited what this will bring for our future paths! As the evening was quite advanced at this point, we all turned in at Toblen’s tavern to find him and a few guests still awake and happy to see us again. I was asked to tell our tale and I did my best. It only took close to four hours but not once did their attention dwindle. I’m beginning to get the hang of it by now. Sleeping in an actual bed again was divine. All of us slept in today, finally no watches, roots poking your back, cold winds, distant and closer noises in the woods. Truly wonderful! After our breakfast, we went to speak to Harbin about our success with the orcs. On showing him the weapons we took from our captives, he handed us our payment. Quite remarkable was his changed attitude compared with our last visit. With the threat of the red bands gone, Phandalin seemed to prosper again which left the town master rather pleased. He told us he wanted to send the captured bandit to Neverwinter, to which we offered to take him with us. Harbin agreed, visibly relieved to be done with this chapter. We also should alarm Neverwinter to the presence of this Many-Arrows orc tribe, before it is to late to defend the lands surrounding the main city. Now I am back at Toblen’s Stonehill Inn, while Grum and the others head to the miners’ exchange to ask once more for Gundren’s brothers. I am not ready to face Halia again, especially after that fateful evening with sister Garaele yesterday. Halia sounded very clear as to what she thought was the right path for me and sure would not take it well to hear about my most recent decision. I hope my friends won’t tell her too much, I first need to figure this watcher-business out… But I could not have agreed with the methods the Zentharim seem to employ anyway. Once we leave Phandalin behind later today, I will speak openly with my friends. I pray that they understand my actions and don’t think less of me for keeping them in the dark over the last days. Maybe we can ask Elmar Barthen once more for his cart, especially now that we have to transport a prisoner. And it would be nice to see the joy in Nysqwen’s eyes once she meets our two oxen again.

A Killing Word
25th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

“The power of words can never be underestimated, Morthos!”, one of the first lessons by Anathaea and one of her most often repeated ones. And yet only now is it that I begin to grasp its true meaning. And danger… As planned yesterday, we headed out through forested hills to find Wyvern Tor and with it the marauding orcs we were now warned about twice. They were easily found, especially with the description of their position, Hamun gave us yesterday. A mile before we reached the actual site, the forest grew quiet around us, not even Grum could detect any animals daring to come to these parts. Then the stench came. Unwashed, sweaty creatures, decaying carcasses, burned wood and flesh – hard to miss. We continued on quietly, trying to make sure we would see the enemy before they might see us. Our plan was to capture at least one of the orcs in the hopes he might have some knowledge regarding Cragmaw Castle. But first we would have to know what we were facing. After a few more minutes of travel, we saw a first guard posted at some rocks. Behind him a cave opened into the mountain. The orc was taller than most I have seen in Neverwinter and quite broad, leaning nonchalantly on a spear, visibly bored by his task. In this moment I figured, maybe songs and charms may not be the only asset my humble skill set has to offer. The absence of sound may prove just as effective. Hence, I cast an area of silence surrounding the guard while Nysqwen and Grum charged at the surprised orc. He was quickly slain, his shouts for alarm lost within the soundless bubble I’d thrown around him. So yes, I see my experiment as success. This might prove handy in other circumstances as well… When we examined the corpse, Nysqwen found a tattoo on his forearm that according to her marked him as belonging to the Many-Arrows tribe. And, much to my astonishment, she had heard of this tribe before in songs on her journey, telling of a ruthless band of killers and berserkers that roamed the land killing everything in their way. I have to ask her about this song before we leave, I want to know more. And add it to my collection of course, maybe giving it a new melody… Knowing now who we were facing, we sneaked forward to the cave’s entrance to assess what we were dealing with. I went ahead, quickly was within and hid in the shadows. I could make out seven orcs in total, four of them sitting around a table listening to one broader than the rest telling some kind of tale in their barbaric language. Three others were sprawled on the ground. After a few seconds a mass in one of the corners of the cave that I so far had identified as a heap of rocks suddenly moved and revealed itself to be a massive ogre! I had to pull myself together with all my will to keep calm and not expose my hiding place. I went back to my three friends to report about my findings. As much a threat the orcs and especially the ogre might pose, we wanted to go through with our plan and prepared for battle. In a chokepoint between the mountain and a few large boulders, Archie poured a buddle of oil he bought in Phandalin, planning on lighting it up whenever the first of our foes would reach it. Grum and Nysqwen courageously posed as the front line while Archie and I stayed back to support them with all we had. Archies new beetle positioned itself to fight alongside our party. When all was prepared, we shouted for their attention which we quickly got. The fierce ogre was the first to reach our two brave friends who did as best as they could to fend him off, while Archie saw to the oil being ignited. This was well done, as it did not take long to slay the huge creature, although Nysqwen got badly injured in the process. Thankfully, a few well placed notes can work true wonders in overcoming even grave wounds, so she could fight on. The battle continued for a while, we exhausted what we had yet eventually got the upper hand. Nysqwen surprised us yet again when she suddenly spewed forth a cone of flames that engulfed three orcs. To keep bloodshed to a minimum I tried do lay to sleep the last two remaining orc warriors and their leader but only succeeded for the first two. Grum had taken his bear-shape and managed to wrestle down the brute still standing in a final attack. So here we were, four adventurers that only met ten days ago, defeating eight orcs and one ogre without one loss on our side. What makes me proud more than all else is how we work together, how we look out for each other and help the ones in need without too much regard for our own physical integrity. Grum’s ties with nature, Nysqwen’s sheer force and Archie’s creativity with his contraptions make these friends unique people. Within ten days it feels like I have found friends I was searching all my life for, with Anataea being the exception. She always believed I would find a place to fit in, this might be just it. We bound the orcs and contemplated how to proceed. The idea of torture is gruesome and barbaric, not an option we considered. Yet, Archie had the idea to hang the orc chief on his feet from the ceiling over a basin of water that emerged at the far end of the cave. He was still unconscious which made it an easy task although I was not to sure what Archie hoped to achieve by that. The two other orcs reawakened soon after their binding and without pause voiced curses and shouts in a language gladly none of us understood. We tried to reason with both, intimidate, question yet nothing seemed to calm them, not mentioning getting them to talk to us. Once their leader awakened after being dipped into the cold pool by Archie – I began to understand why he hung him up like that and got only slightly worried about his lessening restraint from taking to extreme measures – he joined the fierce shouting of his fellow raiders. I could not help myself but to answer his shouts with a vicious utterance in his direction to shut up. As I said at the beginning, never, not once, underestimate the power, a single word can have. The orc in his rope did indeed not utter another word. And he never again will. He died, hanging there from his feet by the careless curse of a baffled bard. These were our enemies, but they were defeated, bound and harmless. I cannot forgive myself for loosing my reticence after being mildly provoked and thereby taking a helpless life. I am deeply shocked by myself. All I can do is to promise to never be so careless ever again. Every life deserves a chance, only in self defence you might be forced to take one. Ruthless killing is not the way to harmony, beauty or knowledge. I have to make amends. And I swear to Mystra, I will be more cautious from this day on. Even if it led to such tragic events, my words and the dead chief had the unintended side effect to silence both other captives. They watched me with fear in their eyes, where I hoped to spread mostly joy and laughter on my journeys. For these two it might have been for the better though. They finally consented to answer our questions only to reveal that they knew nothing of Cragmaw castle, nor any other events in the area. They were sent as a scouting party from their tribe to assess how well they might plunder the lands here. We promised to let them go without their weapons if they left and told their leaders that this was no place for marauding orcs. In sight of our strength, how they called it, they promised to do so. Now they are on their way back and we can take the time to lick our wounds. This cave seems to be not entirely natural, I wonder what that might be about. Something must have lived here once and built the entrance and whatever may lie behind the water basin behind my back. But there is no time to concern ourselves with such ponderings now, we have to get back on track and focus on finding Gundren! None of the others seem to begrudge my mistake in dealing with the orc chief. I hope this day only served to bring all of us closer together, the way I experienced it. Now I should distract myself in composing a song about the battle of Wyvern Tor.

Dealings with Death
24th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

For my taste, we encountered death to many times today. My hopes of being relieved from the disturbing memories of our visit of Agatha were quickly shattered as she haunted me throughout the night, stealing every bit of rest from me. Gladly none of the others faced such nightmares, maybe my efforts in calming my friends yesterday achieved at least a little in that regard. We knew that undead and orcs might be around from our inquiries in Phandalin so we were more careful than before in our watches through the night, which was thankfully without any incidents. With the dawning sun we broke camp, setting off into the direction of Old Owl Well We did not have to travel far until we came into view of the distant, crumpled remains of a tower, marking our destination. So many ruins in the last week! For once I will enjoy the crowded, mostly dirty and reeking but living streets of Neverwinter, if we return. When we drew closer to the tower, movement could be seen amongst the rubble. And much to our dismay, ten rotten corpses stood in the yard of the muniment, ostensibly awaiting our arrival. They began moving towards us, a foul smell of rotten flesh traveling ahead of the bunch. Without talking we all instinctively agreed that such malevolent creatures must be eradicated and so rushed to attack them. As disgusting as these creatures are, they appreciatively went back to the dead without too much effort. Although it was disturbing to witness them losing limbs or intestines without so much as making a noise about it. Thus, we slayed the first of the zombies, damaging two others in the meantime, when a man emerged from a tent yet unnoticed by us in the centre of the yard. His head was covered in ink, a tattoo that identified him as a necromancer and absolvent of the school of the Red Wizards of Thay, as Archie later told us. He asked about our desires at this place and we went to sit down and talk with him, but not before Archie attacked him in his panic. I fear the events of the last few days were too much for the poor lad, his nerves are giving in. Understandable at his age, I also was not too fond of the idea to simply talk to this man surrounded by zombies. I may speak with him later to hopefully ease his stress somewhat. Fortunately, beside the hastened attack, the wizard consented to sit down with us and talk. He called himself Hamun Kost and stated he was researching who was responsible for building this place and what happened to it. He appeared to have a genuine historical interest in the ruins. Still it was more than a little odd to hear him refer to the undead around as his company, he allegedly preferred to the one of the living. To our question, to what end he conducts his research he closed himself, unwilling to share any further information. To be honest, it certainly was none of our business, yet my curiosity was not satisfied with such a response. I could see on the faces of my companions that they shared my sentiment. But it was of no use to try to convince Hamun otherwise. Grum was sceptical enough to demand to be shown the interior of his tent to figure, whether no harmful rituals might be conducted here. The necromancer gave way to this rude request which astonished me more than anything that was said previously through this conversation. Inside the tent, Grum did not find anything particularly disturbing. Hamun appealed towards Grum to our services as adventurers to help him in two affairs. He wanted to ask Agatha, who was responsible for building the tower, not knowing how our encounter with the banshee went only one day ago. Additionally, he also told Grum he had some nasty confrontation with orcs near Wyvern Tor, in line with the mission proposed to us by Harbin in Phandalin. He said the orcs were interfering with his research, destroying his fellow zombies. Yet he offered no further explanation what he might hope to find there, neither any kind of reward for helping him. As we want to take care of the orcs anyway, we might well head there next, yet I am not fond of visiting the cursed home of Agatha a second time… Finding nothing that might give us any intel regarding Hamun’s intentions, we went back to our camp. There, we agreed to investigate a little more. Grum mentioned, his shapeshifting ability might not only be useful in combat, as small animals may well get into places, none of us would ever manage. His bravery and readiness to self-sacrifice brought a small tear to my eyes, this was no time to get sentimental however, if we desired to know more about the strange man and his undead company. Therefore, we waited until nightfall and Grum set out to his task. He came back just an hour ago, thankfully unharmed. I could not have born to lose him, especially for such a small thing. He did not learn anything new however, Hamun just studied some scrolls, presumably tied to his research. It does only seem like further investigations would take time without purpose, time we cannot spare. Come the morrow, we will approach this Wyvern Tor. Hopefully none of its namesakes will still be around…

A Truly Horrible Experience
23rd of Kythorn, 1481 DR

As if yesterday’s eve was too harmonious and peaceful, todays events seemed to act as a counterpoint in this pure beauty. As if to remind us of the colder, harsher side this world so well knows to offer. I think I can speak for all of us if I say that given the task set for today of facing an ancient presence, a ghost clinging to her despair about her own death. Conversing with a banshee is nothing a common tiefling is recommended frequently, quite the opposite. Yet our destination was the abode of the one named Agatha, hoping we could reason with her spirit without a martial confrontation that would most certainly lead to our death. On our way through the forest, I did my best to keep moral as high as possible, playing a quiet, encouraging tune. With moderate success, as we delved deeper and deeper between the gloomy, old trees. While the forest was as beautiful and lively as one can hope for this time of the year, after a couple of hours of marching, it grew increasingly darker, cooler and quieter. Soon after we found what we were looking for – Agatha’s lair. It appeared to be grown into an ancient tree, it took us a while to discern it’s equivalent of a door. Inside the depressing atmosphere was even more dense. It looked as if time had not passed in this place, as if it was only waiting for its occupant to return and live here once more. Yet it was cold as ice and dark. Our calls soon brought forth the banshee a white, translucent figure hovering in the room. Her face was contorted into a grim, disregarding look that emerged from half rotten features. In life she might have been beautiful once yet now only death, hate and regret emanated from her. As we were told, we quickly stated our purpose, our inquiry for the spell book of Bowgentle and our own task of finding Cragmaw castle. We presented to her the comb we were given as present in an attempt to appease her. I felt torn between her lifeless eyes capturing mine and drawing me to an edge there would be no return from and an impulse to run from this place. I managed to steady myself, focusing on the task at hand and our purpose to help Gundren and after a seemingly endless moment under her hard eyes, she allowed us to ask one, and only one, question, she would answer truthfully to the extend of her knowledge. In our struggle to fit both reasons for our visit into one single enquiry, we came up with the idea to ask for a route. And so I asked, where we would have to search to first find the location of the book and ultimately travel to Cragmaw castle. She seemed taken aback by our little play but kept to her promise. Thus, she told us, the place we were looking for was located somewhere within Neverwinter wood, while the book came into the hands of a necromancer. Before we could ask about any more details, she vanished into thin air, leaving us wondering, yet relieved to be still alive. We quickly headed back to Conyberry, feeling not much wiser than before. Maybe sister Garaele could do something with the knowledge of the name of this necromancer. But we cannot search the entire forest for a place for which we don’t even know what we are looking for! We have to gather more information… Maybe, the old druid Reidoth can help us further along once we reach Thundertree. For now, we simply were glad to leave this oppressing place. As we already are in the area, we reasoned, we might well see to the events playing out in the area around Old Owl Well, therefore we packed our cart back at the ruins and headed south into the hills and mountains. Grum and I luckily found a path that once must have served to connect our destination and Conyberry without having to loop around the entire mountain chain, where we made good pace. Now we already are near the old ruins and resting for whatever may lie ahead. The prospect of having to deal with more undead creatures does not sit well with me, hopefully we are equipped well enough to deal with anything we are facing. I dread the upcoming night, fearing to revisit an old withered tree with a menacing ghost in my dreams. Let me try to repel such haunting nightmares with some of the music, Anataea taught me back in Neverwinter before we will all sink into our slumber.

On the Road Again
22nd of Kythorn, 1481 DR

After dealing with the red band scum, we were faced with a hard decision. What course would we take on next? Go east to find and speak with the old banshee and perhaps inquire about the undead and orcish activities reported near a place named Old Owl Well? Turn north and search for Thundertree to find the old Druid miss Alderleaf told us about? First return to Neverwinter to resupply – maybe I could investigate there with Anataea’s help for this Craigmaw Castle? Grum reminded us to think carefully about our next steps, for every move we might make could raise a wind that stirred leaves in a distant forest beyond our control or comprehension. After debating well into the small hours we drew the conclusion that the most promising course of action would be to first venture to the east and see if the banshee might know anything to help us. Provided she would speak with us rather than kill us. Which I am not yet certain of… But before we broke camp, we firstly had to speak to Halia Thornton of the miners’ exchange regarding the letters we found. Here we agreed upon withholding the one probably crucial letter regarding the black spider until we would learn more about her motives. With the break of the new day, after a well-deserved rest, our first stop was therefore the busy turmoil of her establishment. As promised, she handed us our reward but dodged any questions regarding her intentions. After a little convincing she at least allowed me to speak with her in more privacy in a back room. Praise Anathaea once again for her lessons! I much prefer talking to people in a civilised manner to the brutal confrontations of battle. And almost anyone can be reasoned with. Once we entered her office, leaving my disappointed, and in the case of Nysqwen visibly worried, friends behind, she revealed herself to be a member of the Zhentarim. This organisation operates much more secretively than the Lord’s Alliance and according to her has their members spread through the whole realm of Faerun. I have only heard them spoken about in hushed tones before and never actually met a member of their faction. According to Halia, they value secrecy above all and view themselves as a huge family where everyone looks out for all others. This intrigued me, not to a minor extend. This could finally be a place, I can really belong to! Their influence could help our group in Neverwinter to a degree, I never could have dreamed about. I was still confused however, how this related to her interest in Glasstaff’s letters. Her reply to this question consternated me. She disclosed to me that the overall aspiration of the Zhentarim was to gain as much wealth and power as possible, where the ends justifies all means. She sought to bring in place of the red bands a new network of figures that would grant control over Phandalin to this organisation. While her idea of such a scheme might not have been as ruthless and brutal as the tyranny of the late bandits was, this hunger for power over others still shocked me deeply. Why do people more often than not only seek to enforce their influence over others? I cannot understand, nor support such a cause and feel good about it! Sure, I do only agree with the law to a point where it may stand in the way for the good of the people, but this here aims only to increase personal benefit with no regard for others. When she offered me to join their organisation I therefore excused myself by stating I would have to think over such a grave decision before making it. She seemed fine with that, telling me to contemplate her proposition on our future travels and eventually coming to the “right” conclusion. Who knows what might happen to us on the road, maybe something can convince me that her measures are necessary to ensure more harmony in this world? I doubt it. But until I reach a final decision, I might not tell my friends about Halia’s secret. Should I decide against it, they will be the first to know, I hope they will understand. I will however share as much information as possible with them, regardless of her feelings about that. My allegiance is with my comrades. Now it was time to leave Phandalin behind and make haste to free Gundren and possibly his brothers. We equipped ourselves with tents and sundry items we deemed obligatory for a journey as would lie ahead of us. We even found a cart drawn by two oxen that would reduce the weight we have to carry ourselves. And thus we ventured forth once more, traveling first the road we came down when entering Phandalin but then turning east towards Conyberry. On the road our only encounter was with a pack of wolves who despite our measures to fend them off peacefully and Grum’s efforts in speaking to them, attacked us, nonetheless. We managed to deal with them quickly, learning in the meantime that a particular smell might ward us against them better than any armour can. It is hard to describe. Even for my nose it was hard to bear standing in this fume, one has to concentrate hard to not fall victim to nausea. But the wolves and their poor fine noses seemed to suffer even worse from its effect. That might keep them at bay in the future! Today we finally reached Conyberry. A desolate and forgotten place, only ruins remember the people that once housed here. But even in such a place, beauty can be found. After we looked around to gain intel regarding any undesired surprises that could befell us, we readied our beds in one of the more solid seeming houses. Archie had done a lot of work on the road and presented us with an apparatus that looks like a mechanical reconstruction of a beetle. But it has some hidden features, that he assured us would come in handy in any encounters. The boy astonishes you whenever you thought, you would know the extend of his skills! He might not be the bravest or strongest or most charming young man, but I have never seen someone so gifted with his hands and in working intricate mechanisms. Soon after he prodded up his, for lack of a better word, beetle to give us some shelter derived from his strange kind of magic, he went about and placed traps around our camp. In the meantime, I returned to one of my favourite things to do in Neverwinter and roamed around the empty, quiet former streets until I found an old, crumpled tower. I made the delicate climb up its brittle structure, careful to not tread on any loose stones or frail wood. After a relatively long time I emerged on its rooftop and immediately knew that it was worth the struggle a hundred times over. The sun was just beginning to set, its golden disk slowly sinking behind Neverwinter forest, bathing the scenery in red and golden light. The ruins of the city were tainted in colours that can only be seen during this particular hour, while high above us the sky glowed in every shade of red and blue that I know of. I stood there for a long time, taking everything up within me, until the golden disk long was no longer visible on the horizon. My tries to capture this moment in a quiet tune cannot do justice to what I witnessed but it felt right, to ring master Rattlepike’s old instrument and to feel my fingers almost be guided by an unseen force over the strings. Even in the most dreadful times, harmony prevails.

Dead End for the Red Bands
19th Kythorn, 1481 DR

The deed is done - and we all lived! Toblens young son told us about his friend Carp, who stumbled across a cave mouth within the forest to the southeast of the town. Therefore, we went to visit the Alderleaf farm, home of the most endearing halflings, I ever had the pleasure of meeting. Before any questions were asked, we were already seated in a cosy, even though rather small, living room and offered beverages and food. Miss Alderleaf was not the happiest when she heard, what her son had come across or where he went for his games, but gladly nothing had happened to him. So, we quickly were given a description of what he had found and the path that would lead us to said cave. To our question, what or where Craigmaw Castle might be, she said she had never heard the name. But she hinted at an old druid, Reidoth, who dwelled to the north in Thundertree. This wise man might know the place we were seeking. Hopefully he can be of help, although I suspect Grum to be excited to meet his fellow confrère regardless of how he can support our immediate need. For one of her statue and usual roughness, I must admit to some surprise in the way Nysqwen talked with the family. Beneath her scaled skin beats a loving heart, although she may not be the quickest of wit. One can only marvel at such persons, who would give everything to protect weaker or quieter folk then themselves. Have I mentioned already that within our small party I begin to think I have found friends for life? And so, in turn, I swear to do my best in taking care of our fellowship. After a very tasty second breakfast, we set out to find the assumed secret entry into the red bands' hide out. With the description we were given it was an easy task and soon we found ourselves into the darkening gloom of a cave. As quiet as our gear would allow, we snuck forward. Ever deeper into the tunnel. Suddenly, before any visible change was apparent, all of us were overcome by a certain sense of dread and... being watched. After a couple of more careful steps, a cackling voice started to whisper in our minds, addressing our thoughts and feelings. There was a hunger to these words that seemed to know no satisfaction. Turning back was not an option if we wanted to keep our promise and cleanse the bandit threat and so, against better judgement, we continued our path. The sinister presence grew ever stronger, a chill rippled down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. We entered a large cave and finally saw, what seemingly was tormenting us so far. behind a rock pillar, one single, large eye was almost glowing in the murky cave. Light came only from a few torches, set in iron mounts on the walls. I have heard of such creatures as we faced now before, they are commonly known as notics. His psychic presence was overwhelming, yet he made no initial move to attack us or interfere in some other way. Following a subtle notion, we asked the beast what brought or held it here and what it wanted from us. It seemed driven by the single notion of hunger - how exactly it feasts or what it consumes, I do not want to even guess. It sensed Archies thoughts of harming him, which resulted in a minor assault on the poor lads’ nerves. After some more conversion we learned however that the red bands apparently provided the notic with sustenance. As we had heard on the day before that the bandits killed a local wood cutter and captured his family, we feared for the worst. As it did not yet harm us directly, we offered a deal to the creature. In exchange for letting us pass unobstructed, we promised to feed it any corpses we might have to leave behind. This seemed to please the notic enough to withdraw into a crevice that cut the cave in two. A quick glimpse into the darkness below revealed some kind of old necromantic magical force covering the ground and what looked to be surprisingly intact bodies. We backed off this horrible scenery and set forth to explore the cave we had found. The lit torches already had given away that it was frequently used and suggested, we were at the right place. Also, on all sides of the cave old walls and other building structures were visible. While venturing through the tunnels we faced several groups of the bandits, none of them proved to be a match for our combined skills. Working together, we quickly learned how to help each other out in the struggles we faced down there. In the niche of an old storage room to the north of the main cave, we found a secret passage, leading to further rooms. These seemingly belonged to the "real" basement of the manor. Here we found rooms that served as sleeping quarters for the scoundrels. We quickly came up with the idea to dress up as new recruits to their band, so we slipped into some clothes we found there. In their obviously very busy days of harassing citizens, not once it could have crossed their minds to do so much as wash their rags, for they reeked worse than the cave the notic disappeared into. As we continued, we found old sarcophagi that must have retained the remains of the original landlords of this manor. For every sarcophagus, there was one skeleton. But not eternally slumbering in their stony beds as would be expected from a heap of bones but standing in the room, watching us! They did not move, while we went through the room. On the wall opposite of us, two doors led to different rooms, one of them imbued with magic. Carefully we stepped through the room. But only when touching one of the tombs, the skeletons broke their staring and went to attack us. In the skirmish that enfolded, we also stumbled into the next room, where we ran into the arms of two red band guards. The room was a makeshift prison with two cells, one holding a young boy, the other a mother and daughter. I wish we could have spared them the sight of slaughter, but we had to defend ourselves. I got badly injured by one of our bony opponents, never try to poke a skeleton to death! I still feel the wound even though it was quickly taken care of with a small potion and the skills of Grum. A wolf seemed to be not the only new form, Grum was able to adopt. A formidable bear wreaked havoc among the humans and skeletons alike. His oneness with nature grows stronger every day now. And nature seems to be a good companion to help in watching out for others! With a previously found key, we could free the imprisoned family that turned out to be the widow and children of late wood cutter Dendra. We accompanied the poor souls to the entrance of the cave, from where Nysqwen took them back to town while we rested a little and mended our wounds. After her return, we continued our excavation of this lair. In one of the tombs we found a sword that once must have been in the possession of the Tresendars. It has a magical hue to it and counts under the most beautifully forged weapons I have ever seen. Such irony, to make a grizzly thing like death one with the beauty of excellent craftsmanship... In the western part of the cave system, we encountered a room in which three bugbears harassed a small goblin. Their animalic language was nothing we could comprehend but it was apparent that they were in league with the red bands. A first, very odd sign, given that the last bugbear we encountered was tied to this black spider... Our experience of former battles and the newfound gifts - I bless you again, Mystra - had their time to shine. Very quickly we dealt with the reeking goblinoids, astounding after our struggles against Skarg in his cave only days back. The Goblin seemed to have been held captive as a servant by the larger bugbears. He could not tell us anything with regards to Craigmaw castle but ensured us that Glasstaff would be in one of the two rooms to the north. We pitied the poor creature and let him go - to leave the cave and be on his way. We may regret it one day if he turns on us, but kindness is a gift to rarely given in this world anyway. So, if we can spare one more poor soul, it is only for the better in my books. So, we turned north, knowing that a decisive battle with this leader and apparently magic wielding foe could only be minutes away. To prepare as best as possible, Archie proposed to rig the hallway we came down with some kind of trap that would automatically fire an arrow at a person triggering a certain hidden wire. As he went about his trap making, once more it was hard to believe how skilled one so young was with his craft. From seemingly thin air he built in minutes a deadly trap to anyone unaware of it and told us the exact place where not to step, else we would kill ourselves. Thusly primed for our next encounter we opened the next door - only to find a handful of bandits gambling over some card game. Trying to play our masquerade of new recruits, we faced the men with a smile and open arms. But the previous hours of battle and exploration must have left us in a state that was no longer deserving of being called disguised. The only way out was yet another battle. Grums powers are virtually ground shaking. An earthquake knocked the scoundrels from their feet afore they could get their weapons out, the rest was an easy, although bloody and saddening task. If previous noise had not already alarmed everyone within the manor, by now they sure noticed us and so must have Glasstaff himself, thus we rushed to the last room in the north-western corner of the cave. Only to find it empty. It looked to be an alchemist’s workshop, by the ingredients and apparatuses standing around, Archie concluded Glasstaff was trying to brew invisibility potions. It seemed to have been without success so far and we could not detect any magic hinting at some invisible fifth person in this room. The only living being was a small rat, watching us curiously. Something strange was going on with this rat, Archie felt more then saw some kind of linking band emerging from the animal and disappearing in the opposite wall... The rat was being used as a spy, a magic familiar! As this revelation dawned on us, we tried to find a way through the wall, finally finding some hidden passage. But it was too late. the band emerging from the rat in Nysqwens pocket became thinner and thinner. When we came back out into the main cave, we were surprised by further bandits drawn to our position due to the noise we made by now. And in their company also was the notic! Showing no signs of keeping to our previously made agreement, he fought us together with the lot of at least five more bandits. At long last, we prevailed from this battle as well, Grum in his bear shape simply mashed the head of the notic against a pillar until an arrow from my crossbow ended its life and with it the horrible voice and laughter in our heads. We hastened through the tunnels but without luck. Glasstaff had escaped. The hunt led us through a final set of rooms in the eastern part of the basement of the manor, where we came upon a clean pool of fresh water, a staircase leading out into the open at the front of the old ruin. Nothing was visible or otherwise perceivable anymore of the leader of these bandits. Frustrated we returned down below, Archie had some specific interest in how this spring worked, as no drainage was visible, and it stayed perfectly clean through the ages. Its architecture hinted at it being from a time when an old elven realm was located in this place, forgotten magic fuelling the spring. In order to find the source of the water, Archie worked on the fountainhead protruding the wall only to later realize that he destroyed whatever secret might have been there in the attempt. For the constant flow of water stopped. We went back to the alchemist’s abode and found several letters documenting trade between Glasstaff and neighbouring villages, apparently to assemble all ingredients for his potion brewing and to feed his men. And we found another letter. One that was addressed to a Lord Albrik. And instead of a signature it featured a drawing of a black spider. So, it was all connected! The disappearance of dwarves in the area, goblins raiding travelers and these red bands terrorising Phandalin! And this name Albrik... Sildar mentioned he was searching for another member of this Lords' Alliance, Iarno Albrik - a wizard! That could only mean he was in league with the ominous mastermind behind the recent events. Yet what was the whole picture? What was this black spider up to? And if Albrik was part of it, what about the Lord's Alliance and especially Sildar? We returned to the town and were greeted merrily by the people who had heard about our success. It was good to be at fresh air again and to see all these happy, smiling and relieved faces. But Albrik’s disappearance was gnawing on our minds and we quickly confronted Sildar about his acquaintance. He convincingly displayed that he had no idea about these entanglements and was furious that the name of the Alliance was besmirched in such a manner. He promised to help us in our upcoming search for Gundren and the black spider, to end all these crimes. Now I have seen him talking to Nysqwen quietly, I am wondering what is going on there... But that is her business for now. Lady Dendra spoke to us once more to thank us for our help. As a token of her gratitude, she told us about an old heirloom, hidden in the former town of Thundertree that shall be ours as she can find no use of it anymore – not even speaking of the dangers of acquiring said trinket from the perilous ruins. While we only did what had to be done, it is hard to neglect her points about the dangers of getting there and she insisted to offer it to us. So maybe we can put it to good use in the future to honour her family keepsake. I am also still pondering upon what Sildar told us about the lost mine, the dwarven brothers claim to have found. This Wave Echo Cave not only used to be a wellspring of all sorts of minerals and metals but also brimmed over with magical energy. The dwarves that found it over five hundred years ago made a pact with the local gnomes and crafted in it a forge, the Forge of Spells, where magical items could be crafted with their immense knowledge, skill and the channelling abilities of human sorcerers. This period of wealth also led to the prospering of Phandalin until hordes of orcs, reinforced by some dark magic, presumably by one or a few chaos-driven wizards, attacked the place. In the emerging battle, most of the caves were destroyed as humans, dwarves and gnomes faced the threat head on. Only few survived this battle, no one knows if any of the dwarves from this time might still be alive or what happened to the wizards behind the orc forces. If Grum’s friend and his brothers have indeed found that forlorn place, who knows what forces we are dealing with here. If this black spider longs for knowledge about the mine enough to capture dwarves from the street, nothing good can come from this. It’s support or even order for these bandits to terrorise Phandalin casts a very dark shadow on it’s intentions. Ever more incentive for us to put an end to this wrong doing! Tomorrow we will have to speak to Harbin about the cleansing and deliver the letters we found to Halia Thornton. She seemed to be quite eager to get her hands on these, so we must play this carefully. I'd rather gain information than give it away too freely. In the wrong hands, that might cause more harm than good. And we will have to think about how to proceed with our journey later. We have to find Gundren and trust that he is still alive! We will not abandon him!

On a Quest - For Quests!
18th Kythorn, 1481 DR

Well, if I can draw any conclusions at this point in my very young adventurer career, I can without a doubt say, Anathaea was right. There are two things in this world that connect every form of life. Two things that, if distilled down, soon can be unified in the marvellous world of sounds. The first part in this happy marriage is played by conversations. Words can be extremely powerful in conveying information, emotion and intention. The second, complementing side is of course reflected in music. After our arrival in Phandalin on yesterday’s eve, we stopped by the local tavern Stonehill Inn, where we were warmly greeted by its keeper Toblen and his lovely wife. After such an arduous journey, a warm meal and a safe place to stay were particularly welcome, and as a small acknowledgement, I offered to fill the room with what humble talent I possess in the latter half of the afore mentioned couple. And it was a pure joy, to witness how bright the mood within the tavern quickly became, how much more laughter could fill each and everyone's throat. Whether they knew the songs or not, regardless of which race or profession they belonged to, every guest seemed to welcome the sound of a good song. Music truly can bring us all together, its power cannot be overstated. Not even a day ago, it helped me ensnare a bunch of nasty goblins to fall asleep, now it is just the bond that binds us all in this world. There lies true beauty, to master this craft will open up all else and bring with it peace, knowledge and wisdom. Toblen seemed to be pleased as well, he offered free meals and a room for my services in playing for his guests. Nothing to sneeze at, I have performed for fees a lot worse in my day. Today was more reserved for the articulating side of the ever-prevailing ribbons of sound. We got acquainted with the town surrounding the inn, starting with the adventurers shop of the Lionshield family, where we delivered their stolen goods. Here Nysqwen also made a very lucky discovery, as she found on the top of one of their storage shelves a rather old lyra of still good quality. What was even more impressive was the engraved and seemingly real name, marking it as once belonging to Will Rattlepike, THE pioneer in modern poetry and sonnets. Apart from that small venture, we visited almost all other points of interest in the town. In the towns centre is located a shrine of luck, guarded and maintained by sister Garaele. She asked for our help in talking to an old banshee - yes, a banshee! We all have heard stories about these ghastly creatures, yet this particular specimen seems to be willing to talk to strangers on occasion in exchange for gifts of beauty. Therefore, she gave us a very pretty comb, as a sign of her and our good will in exchange for the question, where the old spell book of a master Bowgentle might be. We promised her to do our best. Who knows what we are up for this time... In an orchard in the north of the village, we spoke to Daran Edermarth, an old adventurer who switched from the exhausting life in dungeons and caves to a much more peaceful existence in tending to his fruits. His apples sure are quite a feast! He still told us about undead, who had been seen close to the old ruins of Old Owl Well in the east and asked us to see, what we may find as a cause for such occurrences. All our research in this town so far had spoken volumes about the struggle the locals were facing with these red band bandits, their "hide out" - the old manor, standing on a hill overlooking the town was in plain sight, their harassments were affecting everyone, yet apparently the town chief, a man named Harbin, took no measures to do anything about it. We went to the town hall to speak to him, yet his fear was written plain on his face. He did not want to have to do anything with the whole business, instead he sent us after some orcs, marauding to the east. While we certainly will have a look into this affair as well, this man was for sure of no help to us whatsoever. Before we could leave though, Sildar came into the room, arguing on behalf of the lords' alliance with Harbin over the same matter - the faction apparently wants to gain some foothold in Phandalin as well. These power struggles are of no further concern for me, as long as no one has to suffer from them, but the affair with these red bands is an immediate threat to Phandalin and must be taken care of. A least so far, Sildar and we are of the same opinion. Sildar also shows great concern regarding master Gundren, another hint that he is a good soul. He mentioned the name Craigmaw Castle in his tales about their capture by the goblin raiders already yesterday, yet no one in this town seems to know anything about this at all. It just seems to be some goblinoid name for a place or stronghold... Leaving Harbin and Sildar arguing behind us, our path next took us to the miners’ exchange, led by lady Halia Thornton. If we hoped to have here the best chance to gather any information regarding the dwarven brothers, we were disappointed. They have not been seen for a few days, they seemed to claim to have found the ancient lost echo caves. Miss Thornton however finally more or less officially entrusted us with the task of ridding Phandalin from the plague posed by the red bands. For some obscure reason, she also wants us to deliver any kind of written conversation by the ominous leader of the bandits named Glasstaff. What she could want with these letters, she was not willing to tell us. And there, even in withholding words, lie hidden meanings, messages to be encrypted by those unrecieving. We will try our best to help this town in eliminating the threat, what we will do about the letters we can decide when the time comes. I don't like to not know what someone intends, if he or she has not proven trustworthy above any doubts. Finally, it was time for us to face at least some of these red band marauders and so we sought for the establishment known as the Sleeping Giant's Inn. Before we could enter this lousy excuse for a tavern, we made the acquaintance of four fine gentlemen in ragged clothes and with unmistakable red bands marking their allegiances. Once more, yours truly just wanted to exchange a few words with these scoundrels just to know their motivations and whereabouts, but faced with what I can only describe as disgusting rejection, I saw myself presented with no other choice as to... convince one of them to a more reasonable language. Yet, after working my charms, the other three struck down their companion and went on to attack our party. That should prove their last, fatal mistake. After hearing so many troublesome news about their pillaging, our toll taking journey to this town and suffering then such an attack, something in Grum must have snapped. Within the blink of an eye, this broad, gentle, mostly quiet friend of mine was gone - and his place occupied by a wolf. We must have been as surprised as our foes, but thankfully wolf-Grum still kept his dwarven friendships and went to attack the scoundrels in front of us. We followed his example and quickly disposed of this dreadful company. After finishing this grizzly task, some townsfolk appeared, visibly relieved to see us dealing with these bandits. These new skills of ours, albeit strange in acquiring, seem to grow in power quickly, sometimes frightingly so. Yet my hope remains, as long as we can help the good people of Faerun to the best of our ability, we shall do so! As should anyone, gifted with abilities to bring peace and protect beauty and harmony. The last bandit still lay unconscious at the ground after our short battle. We took him into the inn, where a grumpy bar maid provided us with a small drink. As this inn usually works as a meeting point for the bandits, we figured we should not stay long, however it was a good place to have some quiet words with this short-term ally of ours. He at least could tell us a little about the numbers we were facing in these red bands and that there was some secret way into the old manor other than just the front door. He was neither the most talkative nor the brightest so we had to do something with him before realisation struck him, that we may not be too familiar with one another. So, we decided to bash the poor fellow into unconsciousness yet again and leave him in the town halls prison cell. Harbin objected at first, yet he surrendered under the pressure of Nysqwens formidable broad shoulders. It was not the most elegant way, but at least that ensured we would not have to deliver the scoundrel to some nastier fate. The last hour we spent again at our cosy little Stonehill Inn. After our small deed this afternoon, the room seems even more crowded then yesterday, hopefully this will be a more common sight in future days. Our task tomorrow will be one of courage and may be our greatest test yet - to infiltrate this bandit hideout and hopefully cleanse this village from its nightmare. While it is easy to smile through the evening, this still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. And not the usual abyssal sulfuric taste when someone shrieks at my sight. Even if we are only a company for such a short time, Nysqwen and Archie grow on me every day. They bring this world a joy, it might not deserve but very well need. And even if I am glad in calling Grum my friend for some years now, my trust in and fondness off him as well has reached new heights. I pray to Mystra with every song this evening that this will not be our last evening in this tavern. But here comes Toblen, he wanted to tell us something about his son. So, let us see, where this evenings tale may take us to.

Straight into the Adventure!
17th Kythorn, 1481 DR

Well dear auditorium, be careful what you wish for. I asked for an adventure - and immediately got my fair share of it. After some time of travel - this boy Archie sure plays a lot with his little apparatuses - we came upon a site that reeked suspiciously like a raid in the very near past. Dead horses, blood on the ground... And worst of all, it seemed to have been master Gundren and his fellow companion Sildar Hallwinter, who were the unfortunate victims to the crime. Although maybe not as unfortunate as it might have seemed at first glance... but more of that later. While we were still inspecting the scenery, out of the forest all around us, a hand full of goblins approached. And before any of us could even try to reason with these creatures, we saw ourselves under attack! All creatures in these lands may deserve to live and dwell however they see fit, yet if one is to harm my friends, there are no two ways about it. And as it turned out, our ragbag coalition was quite able to defend itself. I have known my friend Grum to be sturdy but besides his caring and prudent attitude, he well knows how to wield his staff. And beware of his bound with nature, else you find yourself in a world of hurt from her embrace. Nysqwen on the other hand was identifiable at first glance as a warrior. I can only guess that many arguments were won by her sheer frightening mass of muscles, even before actual blows would be exchanged. And she is quite proficient with this axe of hers! She near split a goblin in two with a single blow! And even Archie did his part. I must admit, when it came to combat my faith in him was likely the least in our group. Yet it turned out, that his finicking around with strange devices and substances could prove itself quite potent in producing flames and electricity from some hidden energy source. Granted, he wailed around quite a bit while he brandished his staff around blind-eyed in the vague direction of the enemies. But I guess with a few more days or weeks of adventuring he will grow into a full fletched man, able to take on near any threat! I would also enjoy learning a little more about this strange kind of magic he uses... As for my own humble contribution to our fight, the years in the alleys of Neverwinter have proven to be a good teacher with the rapier. And Anataea's help in finding in me the source to the arcane secrets of music is probably her greatest gift to me. After all, it fills one just with immense pleasure if a few well picked words let a goblin wet his breeches! To make it brief - we annihilated this raiding party, only one of the shrieking green creatures escaped. After we cleared our heads from the shock and noted that no severe wounds had occurred, we found a track the raiders must have used to travel between their hideout and the road. As Gundren and his friend seemed to have been abducted by the goblins, it was reasonable to assume, they were not dead - yet. So, we ventured forth into the forest, as silent as our gear allowed it. After a short while, we found the entrance to a cave. And again, were attacked by goblin guards. They also proved no match to our combined will and forces and so we continued into the cave. Though at this point, I felt exhausted already and could see a similar expression on every face in our fellowship. But there was, quite frankly, no time to think about a rest. In the entrance of the cave we stumbled upon a few wolves, who we could satisfy with some of our rations into letting us pass. Grum even took the time to free the beasts from their shackles, which held them captured in this place, likely another crime of these goblins. As we sneaked deeper into the cave, light dwindled and echoes grew louder. The path we walked was sloped slightly upwards and when we reached the top, we stumbled onto yet another group of goblins, fumbling with what seemed to be barriers to some water resort. And soon enough we found out that this water could quite effectively be used as a defence mechanism, as one of the goblins managed to breach the barrier. With Nysqwen being flushed down the way we came by a barrage of water, we saw ourselves at a severe disadvantage in numbers and knowledge of the terrain. But I was yet to unleash one of the most powerful spells I knew at this point, although I always had thought of it as more of a peaceful way to escape a sticky situation or just calm down a crying child. And so I sent our enemies to sleep. And as any child will be able to tell you, a sleeping goblin can be easily dealt with. We could regroup and tried to plan our next few steps. Archie was quick to come up with the idea of setting a trap in one of the branching tunnels. But around the next corner waited our greatest test yet. An ugly, hairy and disturbingly reeking creature, both taller and much wider than any of the goblins we encountered so far. I only had heard of bugbears, but I was not prepared to face one. Here we were, worn down by fighting, struggling to cling to the belief that master Gundren was still alive and faced with a grotesque result of nature’s creativity. I was in some dire situation in my days on the streets, but in this moment my blood grew ice cold. Measured with the nature of my race, that is quite a feat for such a creature to achieve. There was no going back, this fiend would have to be dealt with. And thus, we went to battle. We threw everything at it, everything we could muster. Seeing Grum fall damn near broke my heart. Had I just lost one of the only friends I knew in this world? But we managed to fight him off. He called himself Skarg, referring to himself oddly in the third person. Why he fled, none of us could really comprehend, but we were too exhausted to give it a good second thought. And we had to attend to Grum! He is a robust dwarf after all, a blow that would have me singing in the abyss by now only managed to knock him out for a short while. A healing potion, we found among the rubble lying around, did the rest. We had to rest. We did not forget about the threat Gundren was in, but in our state, we would not prove a sufficient help. And during that rest it seemed, we all matured a little. It is hard to describe, but when we broke camp, only an hour or so later, every single one of us was invigorated, felt almost empowered. There are secrets in this world, probably no one will ever know the answer to. But to any deity listening - as long as good and kind people walk the earth and may be protected by what may come from our adventures, I will be grateful for such a gift. As we ventured forth through the tunnels, we came upon another, lager cave. This appeared to be the end of the hideout and as we heard some shouting earlier, we were afraid what we might find here. The greatest surprise for sure was a dead Skarg. Less surprising were the goblins present, one of them, burlier than the rest, was harassing a human in a terrible condition. When we entered the room, the goblin shouted for us to leave, else he would kill the human. After a short skirmish, in which the talking goblin pushed the human over the edge - right on Archie - we could deal with these last surviving raiders. The human turned out to be none other than Sildar, Gundrens friend and apparently member of the Lord's alliance, one could here often about in Neverwinter. He told about some internal struggle for power among the goblinoids, which ultimately resulted in Skargs death. And he told us that Gundren was taken away, something to do with someone named only "black spider". A name that provoked a surprised cough from Nysqwen who has some business of her own with this ominous figure. She told us about the death of her family and an anonymous source that told her, this black spider would be wound up in the whole thing. So many mysteries... We must find this black spider and help Gundren! Among the stolen goods in the cave were many belonging to the Lionshields, traders in our destination of Phandalin. So, we loaded them on our cart and made our way to the small town. Now we have arrived and there seem to be no end to the troubles. A band of bandits is terrorising the town, called "red bands", aptly named for their red face scarves. It looks like we have a lot on our plate come the morning. But for now, after a good beer and with a full belly, it is finally time to rest in peace. For a while.

The Gathering of the Four Misfits
15th Kythorn, 1481 DR

It was an interesting day. One that started as profound and near boring as most other days, the same busy city, loud crowds, empty wallets and stomachs. Neverwinter hardly was what I would call beautiful this time of the year and once more I found myself dreaming about other sceneries while telling my stories in the tavern. That burly lass, Nysqwen seems to have come around quite a bit although you never know with these Dragonborn, what part of their tales root in reality and how much is grasped from thin air. Only after recognizing master Grum among the tavern guests was it, that things started to change. He and his old companion, Gundren Steinsucher were planning an expedition of sorts to a nearby town by the name of Phandalin. And for some reason, Anataea seemed quite eager to get me going with them. Maybe on our travels, we might be getting an insight as to what was happening to our brothers and sisters? I would have loved to venture out with my friend Grum even for the sake of seeing new places, but Anataeas worries give me even more incentive to go and keep my eyes and ears wide open. Knowledge, after all, is power. Well, this and music of course! I will not fail her, nor our cause to help our friends! And as for my music, this adventure may just prove a wellspring of inspiration. In our illustrious company, this Nysqwen will join us, as well as a young lad, thin and pale, goes by the name of Archibald. We will see, what he is made from soon enough... We will depart on the morrow, so one last night to marvel at the scenery of quiet stars shining on a lone figure on the roof tops over Neverwinter.

The Backstory
10th of Myrtul, 1481 DR

Once upon a time, 32 years ago in fact, a Tiefling was born in a shabby, worn down cottage on one of the darkest alleys in Neverwinter. The Mother of this boy, a professional seer, often came home late, drunken and smelling terribly of drunken humans. Therefore, the boy took care of himself. He scouted through the streets during the day and climbed on roofs in the dark of the night. He was happy with his small life, maybe because he liked it that way, maybe because he knew no better. And he enjoyed nothing more than the sounds of notes being interwoven into the most beautiful harmonies by minstrels and bards throughout the city. Yet one thing pushed its way to the forefront of his mind: he was utterly alone. Upon this realisation he began wondering. Were people always as singled? It did not appear so, many of them seemed to even have fixed groups. When he tried to ask his mother, she started yelling at him. There was no time for such foolish thoughts, who would need others? But when he left the still shouting woman behind in their cottage, he noticed she too was crying. The next day a new thought arose: humans, elves and dwarfs all alike seemed to actively avoid him, rather than just did not notice! There was one exception to this rule though. For some time now, the boy was having another occupancy during the evening hours: in front of an inn only two blocks away, a Half-Elf was playing the most beautiful music the 12-year old had ever heard. One Evening, this woman called him to her after her performance, she had noticed his reoccurring attention and was curious. Anataea and the young Tiefling noticed at once, that they shared a deep passion for music and melodic harmony. During the next months, she became his best friend and started teaching him the bardic ways. After a while, he chose to expand his given name to Morthos "Art", to describe in one syllable this deepest of his passions. Anataea cared for the boy more than any being ever had. She introduced him to her acquaintances, who extended their profession to certain services for richer men in aquiring goods and information through... unconventional ways. Yet Art learned, that such acts might be necessary to keep your friends well fed and even safe. Over the last couple of years, life in the alleyways of Neverwinter became ever so much harsher, as people started to disappear. The small group surrounding Anataea dwindled fast. They had to do something. Someone needed to fetch help from more influential people to stop these losses. When Anataea bade Art to keep his eyes and ears wide open for help and possibly set out on such an adventure, he eagerly agreed. And with this, my story only begins to unfold.

Morthos Art

Morthos Art

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A Fateful Return 11th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

The Path of Darkness 9th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Family Reunion and Ill Omens 8th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

The Hyenas of the Forest 6th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Reunited 4th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

On The Search For Quercus 2nd of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

First Steps in Mirabar 1st of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Always Keep A Door Up Your Sleeve! 27th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Ever North Goes the Road 25th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Everything Is On Fire! 16th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Into the North 13th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Out of the Dark 8th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Fishy Business 30th (?) of Eleasis, 1481 DR

The Madness of the Dark 24th (?) of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Forth To New Adventures 19th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

The Birth Of The Green Scales 16th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

The Dragon 13th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Of Pacts and Mushrooms 7th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Towards Unknown Caves 5th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

How to Civilise an Orc Tribe 1st of Eleasis, 1481 DR

A Devil and Repercussions Midsummer, 1481 DR

The Ritual Midsummer, 1481 DR

From the Dungeon to the Sewers 30th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Arising Tensions 29th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Dismembered Corpses – and a Cauldron 28th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Haunted Marshes 26th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Whatever, We’re Still Standing in Shit! 25th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Investigations in the Dark 23rd of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Midsummer Carnival 21st of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Riddles and New Friends 20th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

When Past, Present and Future Meet 19th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Reclaiming the Forge 13th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Flame Rekindles 12th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Two Hangovers and a Funeral 12th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Eluding Spider 11th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Return to Phandalin 8th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

How to Clean a Castle 7th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

A Twisted Rescue Mission 6th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Finally - Charge! 5th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

An Attempt to End Them Rightly 5th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Of Small Trees and Large Spiders 4th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

A Flying Visit in Neverwinter 3rd of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Wand’ring and Trading 29th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

A Killing Word 25th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

Dealings with Death 24th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

A Truly Horrible Experience 23rd of Kythorn, 1481 DR

On the Road Again 22nd of Kythorn, 1481 DR

Dead End for the Red Bands 19th Kythorn, 1481 DR

On a Quest - For Quests! 18th Kythorn, 1481 DR

Straight into the Adventure! 17th Kythorn, 1481 DR

The Gathering of the Four Misfits 15th Kythorn, 1481 DR

The Backstory 10th of Myrtul, 1481 DR

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A Fateful Return
11th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

The Path of Darkness
9th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Family Reunion and Ill Omens
8th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

The Hyenas of the Forest
6th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Reunited
4th of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

On The Search For Quercus
2nd of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

First Steps in Mirabar
1st of Marpenoth, 1481 DR

Always Keep A Door Up Your Sleeve!
27th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Ever North Goes the Road
25th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Everything Is On Fire!
16th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Into the North
13th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Out of the Dark
8th of Eleint, 1481 DR

Fishy Business
30th (?) of Eleasis, 1481 DR

The Madness of the Dark
24th (?) of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Forth To New Adventures
19th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

The Birth Of The Green Scales
16th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

The Dragon
13th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Of Pacts and Mushrooms
7th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

Towards Unknown Caves
5th of Eleasis, 1481 DR

How to Civilise an Orc Tribe
1st of Eleasis, 1481 DR

A Devil and Repercussions
Midsummer, 1481 DR

The Ritual
Midsummer, 1481 DR

From the Dungeon to the Sewers
30th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Arising Tensions
29th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Dismembered Corpses – and a Cauldron
28th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Haunted Marshes
26th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Whatever, We’re Still Standing in Shit!
25th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Investigations in the Dark
23rd of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Midsummer Carnival
21st of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Riddles and New Friends
20th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

When Past, Present and Future Meet
19th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Reclaiming the Forge
13th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Flame Rekindles
12th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Two Hangovers and a Funeral
12th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Eluding Spider
11th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

The Return to Phandalin
8th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

How to Clean a Castle
7th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

A Twisted Rescue Mission
6th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Finally - Charge!
5th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

An Attempt to End Them Rightly
5th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Of Small Trees and Large Spiders
4th of Flamerule, 1481 DR

A Flying Visit in Neverwinter
3rd of Flamerule, 1481 DR

Wand’ring and Trading
29th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

A Killing Word
25th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

Dealings with Death
24th of Kythorn, 1481 DR

A Truly Horrible Experience
23rd of Kythorn, 1481 DR

On the Road Again
22nd of Kythorn, 1481 DR

Dead End for the Red Bands
19th Kythorn, 1481 DR

On a Quest - For Quests!
18th Kythorn, 1481 DR

Straight into the Adventure!
17th Kythorn, 1481 DR

The Gathering of the Four Misfits
15th Kythorn, 1481 DR

The Backstory
10th of Myrtul, 1481 DR