oppyu vs Dungeons and Dragons (again)

Were you playing online or is this a record of adventure from halcyon days of yore?

Are you using Roll20 or some other online D&D deal?

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

1-1: DEFIANCE IN PHLAN

The CULT OF THE DRAGON has come to Phlan, a lawless refuge on the Moonsea. Now, with no significant authority to stop the cult, other power groups in the Realms - The HARPERS, ORDER OF THE GAUNTLET, EMERALD ENCLAVE, LORDS' ALLIANCE, and even the ZHENTARIM - must unite to stop the cult from fulfilling its dark purpose in the city...

*John Williams score*

The adventure begins at Madame Freona's Tea Kettle, where our heroes have been staying. It's a cute little establishment and veritable jobs board for adventurers as long as you don't cause a ruckus. Madame Freona is an excellent hostess and does not abide ruckuses. Rumour that has it after the last ruckus, the stout halfling woman carried the offending parties out of her Tea House in body bags.

It's not true, of course. Her daughters helped carry the bodies.

---

Mission 1: The Meet

A mysterious hooded figure invited us into his private room. He had a relatively simple task. We were to attend a covert meeting and take the place of a buyer - who happened to closely resemble Duusha - that had been... indisposed. Permanently. We would exchange a small sack of fake diamonds for a dragon egg and plant a magical tracker on the seller.

Our goblins have, of course, never participated in any kind of illicit deal before. No sir. But we'll muddle through as best we can.

The exchange went well. The elf woman selling the dragon egg was suspicious, apparently Duusha didn't entirely fit the description. Duusha has the Charisma score of a potato, so Wuun took over and argued that you people are all racists. The seller fell for the weaponised white guilt and apologised for societal prejudice against the goblinoid races. Some of her best friends are hobgoblins, honestly.

With that handled, we made the exchange and Duusha planted the tracker. Everything seemed like it had gone perfectly, but then we were rudely interrupted by a half-orc and his friends. They were out for a stroll, you see, and couldn't help but overhear that we had a dragon egg. The half-orc explained that his buddy over here had never seen a dragon egg before and would very much like one. Now. Or else. The half-orc was missing one ear, the calling card of The Welcomers. The woke seller fled in the face of danger and we'll let the Phlan Police Department handle things from here.

"Five dead - one half-orc and four humans. Two of the humans were asleep when they were executed, one of the humans was shot in the back as he tried to flee, and the half-orc has been slashed, stabbed, shot, and set on fire."
"We're dealing with some sick, sick bastards."

The Sleep spell is ludicrously overpowered at early levels.

The hooded figure with pleased with the outcome, even though it turned out the dragon egg was fake. He announced he was a member of the Harpers, a covert organisation dedicated to exposing evil and tyranny. They're worried about recent dragon activity in the Moonsea region and particularly around Phlan. There have been more dragon sightings than usual and increased interest in dragon artefacts. It seems like some shit might be going down. He recommended we keep an eye out and took his leave.

---

Mission 2: The Rescue

Our heroes were trekking through bogs outside the city. Earlier today, a distraught woman had caused a commotion outside the Tea House. Between sobs, she described how goblins had ambushed her and her family of dirt farmers and dragged her family off to an unknown fate. Then she noticed us and asked if we knew these goblins and maybe we could talk to them. So, she's kind of racist. A Black Fist guard explained their jurisdiction didn't extend outside the city, but they could write a cheque to any adventurers who wanted to help.

Racism aside, gold is gold.

We followed goblin tracks from the ambush site and eavesdropped on a goblin and a human dressed in heavy cloaks that covered his face. He must be social distancing. The human congratulated the goblin for what they'd been able to provide, and that there would be more gold if the goblins kept driving interlopers away and selling his group anything they found in the caves. Seems like... there's something bigger going on. Dundundunnnnn.

This was the source of some spicy intraparty roleplay. With our backstory, none of our characters wanted to run into a bunch of bloodthirsty 'wild' goblins. Fenic wanted to ditch everything and cash in the cheque. But we're adventurers. We persevered!

Really, after that the rescue wasn't very dramatic. We found the cave, snuck past some guards, disarmed a trap, brutally murdered other guards, then brutally murdered a boss. Our party was very optimised for sneaking through a dark cave. To the Phlan Police Department.

"it seems they snuck in, executed some sleeping goblins, and slashed, stabbed, shot, and burned a bugbear to death."
"These bastards must be incredibly racist."

We freed the captives from cages in the cave. There were a bunch of people who were clearly dirt farmers, but also one dude who was dressed in fancy clothes. He introduced himself as Chaab, an agent of the Zhentarim. They were a network that seeked to amass wealth and influence in the Moonsea region. The goblins were working with dragon cultists, excavating the den of a recently killed black dragon and selling anything they found to the cult. There's been a lot of cultist activity around Phlan, that's what he was investigating when he was captured. He thanked the party for his rescue, and now they needed to all leave before the other goblins came back.

Also, Kallaad got a sweet black dragon scale to use as a shield.

---

Mission 3: The Crypt

Our next meeting was with Brother Keefe, priest of Kelemvor (Lawful Neutral Grim Reaper deity) and “Keeper of the Dead” of Valhingen Graveyard. Also, a bit uptight. He had received evidence that one of the residents of his graveyard wasn't human but a polymorphed green dragon. Also, that other people may have learned this and be up to some bad stuff in her crypt. So, he needed some tough guys to accompany him into a graveyard and had some gold to pay for the service. And he'd toss in a spell scroll on top if we could get Mulaan to stop flirting with him.

And that's how we found ourselves in a crypt, looking in a sarcophagus that was clearly full of both dragon and human bones. And a lot of the bones were missing. And also, the doors had sealed and the room had started filling with foul-smelling gas. All good so far.

To escape the gas, the party had to solve a puzzle. Which we accomplished with only some prodding from the NPC. The puzzle unlocked the doors and dissipated the gas, as well as revealing a secret staircase that descended deeper into the tomb. Brother Keefe elected to stay up top since he didn't want to die. He reassured us that he was totally confident we'd survive though.

The staircase led into a spiral tunnel with secret doors that Duusha detected emanated necrotic energy ("We should try going through one!" "No."). That opened into a room with a complex alchemy set that Duusha didn't fully understand but could tell it was advanced necromancy ("We should try finishing the potion!" "No."). From there we found a dragon throne, with a trapped panel hidden on the side ("Why does Fenic get to play with the trapped throne but I don't get to do any cool magic?" "Because the throne had treasure in it.").

At the end there was a room with a teleportation circle, a dragon nest of treasure protected by an invisible force-field, and weird corpses with draconic features. When Duusha tried to disarm the forcefield, magical glyphs appeared on the floor and the zombies sprang to life. Suddenly she wasn't excited about dark magic anymore.

We handled the zombies comfortably though. We mashed the zombies into a fine paste, and Duusha disarmed the magical glyphs to keep the zombies from coming back. With that we had time to examine the rest of the room. Duusha disabled the force-field, but the treasure turned out to be fake. We sabotaged the teleportation circle to keep anyone else from coming through though.

Brother Keefe greeted us as we exited the crypt. He represented a group known as the Lords' Alliance, a consortium of influential individuals across the Moonsea region invested in maintaining stability and the rule of law. His sources in the group had learned about the draconic activity happening in the crypt. They had also heard that the Welcomers had been showing an interest in draconic artefacts and could be involved with whatever weird shit is going on.

---

Mission 4: The Tooth

Nothing happened today. Seriously. We just sat there eating dinner, and- okay a half-orc sat down at our table and told us not to react to anything he said. He had reliable information that someone brought a dangerous magic item into the Tea House. He needed our help identifying the person and item before anyone got hurt, and we'd need to split up to investigate the other patrons. Then I swear he looked straight at the party members who dumped Charisma. Sucks to be you, Fenic and Duusha.

The results were mixed - the dice weren't always with us here.
-Wuun completely failed to charm a wood elf ranger taking a break from patrolling the Quivering Forest.
-Kallaad completely succeeded in charming two gossipy old ladies and learned background information on the patrons at other tables.
-Fenic was cold-shouldered by a man and a dwarf having a private conversation. He noticed the man was very intentionally trying to hide a brown satchel.
-Mulaan chatted up a food critic who complained his food had too much safflower oil, a byproduct of a flower that only grows in the Quivering Forest.
-Duusha scared the crap out of a nice dragonborn woman who was just here to see her family.
-The half-orc was completely stonewalled by some halfling circus folk.

Wait, go back to the man trying to hide a satchel. That's suspicious. Fenic had Duusha enchant a magic stinkbomb (arcanists have cool abilities) and slipped it into the satchel while Mulaan distracted everyone with a song. The suspicious man shifted the bag trying to find what was causing the smell and there was the sound of glass breaking. That's probably fine, right? The man quickly scrabbled around in the pack trying to find whatever broke. Suddenly, crackling blue lighting surged through his body causing him to spasm uncontrollably. The room erupted in panic as the dwarven lady next to him turned to flee. Way to go, Fenic.

The party split here; Wuun, Kallaad, and Duusha inspected the man. Duusha deduced the blue lighting localised entirely within the body of one dude was magic, well done Duusha. They noticed the man was tightly gripping a strange object shaped like a dagger. Clearly, they would need to proceed carefully- nope Kallaad jumped in and wrestled the item off the guy. Day saved! No, wait, the lightning jumped to the food critic and started zapping him instead.

Fenic and Mulaan chased the dwarf. Fenic rolled a natural 20 to execute a magnificent rugby tackle and subdue her. Mulaan tried to persuade the dwarf to talk and failed. Fenic tried to intimidate her and failed. Then the lightning jumped from the food critic to the wood elf and that was enough. The dwarf woman didn't know what was happening, she's just a representative for the Labour Guilds. They had arranged to obtain a blue dragon tooth and she had been sent to complete the deal.

Okay, the lightning came from the tooth and was targeting people who had been in or were exposed to things from the Quivering Forest. The NPC may or may not have spelled this out for us. We needed to get Kallaad to draw the lightning to him. Ride the lightning, if you will. We doused the barbarian with safflower oil from the kitchen and he dramatically leaped in front of the lightning. The lightning returned to the tooth and the day was saved!

The half-orc introduced himself. He was Buhrell Carr, a member of the Emerald Enclave. They watch over the wild places of the world, seeking a balance between wilderness and civilisation. They also protect people from the dangerous shit in the wild. The dragon tooth was clearly too dangerous to be in a city, and well yeah fair point. He would take it to his peers in the Enclave. He left with a warning, that the Labour Guilds were growing more powerful and more ambitious. This may not be the last we hear from them

Take that, unions.

---

Mission 5: The Jailbreak

Man, this was a really long session. It was going to be just one or two of these missions to get into the hang of things in Phlan but then we got caught up in talking to people and smashed out all five.

Anyway, a gnomish tinkerer hired us to rescue his daughter. She caused a ruckus and was arrested by the Black Fist, but then Black Fist said they had no record of her. He eventually tracked her down to a black site some Black Fist soldiers were running as a side hustle. They're so industrious. The black site was hosted in an underground abandoned temple of evil, accessible through tunnels that hadn't been used since the third or fourth time the city was rebuilt. So, we paid a visit.

"Sir, they attacked while the guards were out of their armour, executed two of them in their sleep, and... they shot their dog, sir."
"These monsters can't keep getting away with it!"

The gnome's daughter wasn't in the holding cells, however. The prisoners pointed us to a barricaded door labelled 'Funhouse', where the guards would take prisoners to kill them or drive them insane. Also, there was a terrible beast in there. So of course, we entered the Funhouse. The first obstacle was these massive pillars carved with tributes to Bane. Otherwise known as The Dark Lord or The Black Hand. Oh, that's where the Black Fist name comes from. After the Lawful Evil deity of Order and War. Cool. Maybe they shouldn't have put the Knights of The Black Fist in charge of running the city?

The pillars emitted an aura of evil, and anyone who went near them would be paralysed with fear. I'm sure it's a coincidence that the guards set up a cage right in the middle of the evil magic fear pillars. The gnome girl was in the cage, curled in the fetal position repeating "can't run away can't run away can't run away". So, she's having a bad time. If you stood near a pillar long enough to overcome your fear you were inoculated somewhat, so we had Kallaad, Mulaan, and Fenic take turns mastering their fear. Then they went to rescue the gnome girl, and... let me pull up a description of the monster that attacked.

*Pokedex voice* "The wormlike grick waits unseen, blending in with the rock of the caves and caverns it haunts. Only when prey comes near does it rear up, its four barbed tentacles unfurling to reveal its hungry, snapping beak."

It was a pretty normal fight. Except this monster had resistance against all our nonmagical weapons. And Kallaad was wrapped in barbed tentacles that unfurled to reveal its hungry, snapping beak. Don't worry though, Mulaan was poking it with her rapier. In that moment most of our characters regretted becoming adventurers. Not Kallaad though, he thought it was awesome. He really mastered his fear earlier.

In the end we heroically won a 5v1 fight and rescued the traumatised gnome girl. After a healing spell and some persuasion, she even stopped screaming and struggling whenever we tried to carry her. A new guest had joined us in the prison; a very angry elf woman aiming a longbow at us. Her name was Yllivia, the gnome girl was her friend Villonah, and she wouldn't let us torture her friend anymore. Give her back or she'll kill as many of us as she can. Villonah really perked up seeing her friend though so that was legit.

Seriously though, couldn’t she have arrived like five minutes earlier?

Yllivia and Villonah were members of the Order of the Gauntlet - an organisation dedicated to eradicating evil. In Phlan their attention had turned to the Knights of the Black Fist for some reason. Villonah had been arrested stealing a map to a white dragon's lair, which she had concealed in a pouch of fake skin under her foot. The Black Fist were tyrants holding the honest citizens of Phlan in a state of fear, and any interest they have in dragons could only be a bad thing. And with that they left, presumably to find a therapist for Villonah.

---

And that was it! So, in conclusion - everyone's after dragon shit, everyone is evil, and we're level 2 now. Phlan seems like it's going to be juuuuuuust fine. Next session is scheduled for sad lonely Easter weekend.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

1-3: SHADOWS OVER THE MOONSEA

Life on the MOONSEA isn’t easy. Bandits, pirates, and cruel lords dominate the land, threatening those who make an honest living there. Now, a new scourge is prowling the waters. A ghost ship has been striking small coastal villages, leaving its whispers about the “eye of the DRACOLICH.”…

*John Williams score*

Yup, it’s the ghost pirates that were so subtly introduced in the previous episode. Spoiler: this session we heard tell of a dire farting bear that we’ll have to fight next week. We travel quite a bit this episode so here’s the map the DM gave us for reference, and a map of Phlan while I'm at it.

The Moonsea Region
The City of Phlan
Part 1 – At the Open

The Rankfoot clan had been summoned to Valhingen Graveyard. See, isn’t that more fulfilling now you can see that on a map? Valhingen Graveyard was run by the Order of the Silent Shroud, and the one part of the city that actually worked. The Order were devotees of Kelemvor, the Lawful Neutral grim reaper deity in charge of ushering souls into the afterlife. They believed death should be a peaceful transition and fiercely opposed the desecrations of the undead.

Doomguide Yovir Glendon greeted the party in grass-stained robes and holding a trowel. Or maybe a fantasy trowel. The High Priest of Kelemvor and head of the Order of the Silent Shroud, Yovir worked hard to keep his Order separate from the power struggles that paralysed Phlan. He was a quiet man and not typically inclined to deal with adventuring types. However, he was gravely concerned and required assistance faster than the city bureaucracy could or would render it.

There had been rumours of a ‘ghost ship’ attacking villages and settlements on the Moonsea coast. With every attack they drew closer to Phlan. A survivor had made his way to Phlan, driven mad and raving about a dracolich. The Knights of the Black Fist were aware of the matter but not moving quickly enough for Yovir’s liking. Of particular concern were the rumours of undead. Should someone or something be perverting the cycle of death, they needed to be eradicated.

Yovir recommended the party investigate right away. We could start with the survivor, who was being tended to at the Temple of Kelemvor. Or we could inquire with the Black Fist soldier in charge with gathering information on the attacks.

The Temple of Kelemvor was our first stop. The survivor had been tied to a chair. He was covered in bandages and mumbling to himself. The acolyte taking care of the man explained that the restraints were because he kept trying to hurt himself, when he wasn’t trying to hurt anyone else. The man seemed unable to say much aside from “the eyes of the dracolich”, so the acolytes had named him Yip after a strange sound he kept making. A little insensitive.

This might be a surprise, but interviewing Yip went poorly. He ranted about blood and fire and then tried to bite us. The acolyte mentioned that a Black Fist knight had also tried and failed to interview the man. So, we’d just go talk to the Black Fist then. Cool.

Knight Aleyd Burral was a stern woman, her blonde hair streaked with grey. Her eye and blade remained sharp though. For her age, she had not ascended far up the hierarchy of the Black Fist. That was odd for an order dedicated to Bane – his divine guidance strongly promoted ambition, so those unable to advance would often wash out. If you talked to her, it was clear she was highly competent and engaged. Maybe we should ask her why she was such a low rank, that would go well.

Aleyd was very suspicious of five random strangers asking about an ongoing Black Fist investigation. She calmed after we mentioned Yovir though, she respected his civic concern and distaste for politics. Raids had been happening every four days down the Iron Route, every time closer to Phlan. Whatever responsible was attacking at night, ransacking and burning anything in their path. If the pattern held, the next attack would occur in less than two days, roughly a day’s ride away. And then they would be within striking distance of Phlan.

She mentioned that the tracks at the locations were strange – small, the size of a human child or an adult of a smaller race, she frowned at us. Is it bad that despite the racial profiling she still seemed like ‘one of the good ones’? At least for Knights of the Black Fist. She asked to be kept in the loop and advised that it would be wise to follow the law while investigating. Yovir was an asset to the city, true, but he would not be able to help us should we do something… unwise.

Part 2 – On the Road

We travelled down the Iron Route, using horses lent to us by Yovir. (That’s the one on the map between Phlan and Zhentil Keep). The Iron Route was known as a reliable trade route. Yes, as with any route in the Moonsea you could get robbed and murdered. But the road was in good condition, so you’d make good time before being robbed and murdered.

We came across a wagon pulled over to the side of the road. A merchant, Gilfron Milon, had been travelling with his son between Hillsfar and Phlan when an axle broke. He was wary about being approached by five heavily armed goblins. That would be racist, but we did recently thwart a goblin clan that was abducting people. Gilfron had also seen smouldering ruins dotting the Iron Route so he was just very uneasy right now. We convinced him that we came in peace and settled down for some nice mystery roast.

We asked if there was anything along the route a day’s ride away, and he mentioned an island ferry that travelled to a small fishing village just off the coast. He had exchanged words with a very unfriendly ferrymaster, who dismissed any concerns of some dracolich attacking villages on the coast. A madman had apparently taken shelter on the island, spouting insane tales of his destroyed village. But what really concerned the ferrymaster was the storm that would be hitting tomorrow night.

We volunteered to help repair Gilfron’s wagon, which he accepted gratefully. Except we all fucked our rolls so he gratefully said we could leave now he’ll take care of it. Later in the day we had a short encounter with a dire wolf, which probably would have been a combat had Kallaad not rolled highly on Intimidation and Animal Handling. Shame he couldn’t fix an axle.

We reached the ferry early next morning. The weather had turned foul in the meantime, it was clear the storm was incoming. A scruffy seadog named Warsh, with a foul temper and a weirdly bulging right eye, was pulling in a raft to shore. Imagine a less hot Willem Dafoe from The Lighthouse. With a scowl he informed us that there was nothing to see on the island, no reason to go to the island, a storm coming so you’d be stuck on the island until that passes, so please fuck off.

However, we piqued Warsh’s interest by asking about the madman in the village. Did we mean to take him away? Taking the hint, we declared that yes, we were in fact going to take the madman to Phlan. Well why didn’t we say so? He’d take us across right now, then we can stay overnight and take the ‘outside’ away once the storm passed.

I bet this place is really nice.

Part 3 – The Village

Right off the ferry we were greeted by a dirty urchin girl named Elisande. She was friendly and eager to talk with the ‘outsides’, which was good because literally everyone else in the village seemed to hate us. More than people usually hated random goblins. She explained the village was isolated and rarely had visitors. So, this was very exciting. To her, not everyone else. Everyone else hated us.

They were so isolated that to them the village didn’t even have a name. It was just ‘the Village’, and they were ‘the Folk’. They spoke with a strange antiquated dialect and worshipped a hodgepodge of superstitions about beasts of the deep, benevolent when appeased but deadly when spurned. The island was small and consisted almost entirely of the landing, the village, and the woods. And you don’t go in the woods. Elisande was very clear on this.

So, we knew that come nightfall something would be attacking this island. We split the party (yes, yes, we know) to cover more ground. Wuun and Kallaad would liaise with the villagers and see what help they could offer, Fenic and Mulaan would get any intelligence they could from the madman, and Duusha and Elisande would prepare defences.

Wuun and Kallaad met with the leader (and butcher) of the village, Ulberto. He was gruff, bearded, and his right arm was twice the size of his left. It wasn’t like one was normal and the other was weird either, his right arm was weirdly huge for his body and then his left arm was weirdly small. Don’t worry, we were careful not to say anything ableist. All ‘wanking arm’ jokes were made out-of-character.

Ulberto was strangely unruffled when we warned him that an unspecified invading force was likely to attack the Village tonight, a running theme with the Folk. We noticed a smile when we mentioned that we’d need to fight, though. Wuun sensed that Ulberto may be an incredibly violent man, so we played to that. We would almost certainly need to savagely murder some people. Blood would be sprayed, guts would be disembowelled, skin would burn, and widows would wail. And he eagerly agreed to be part of the fight.

This village might not be alright.

Elisande helped Duusha in gathering the supplies to dig traps and hazards to fill them. They didn’t get into any trouble, just a blind goat that seemed to like Duusha. Elisande talked about how her parents had burned in a fire, and how she had always wanted to see what life was like off the island. If only someone could take her. Fenic and Mulaan went to interview the survivor, who was more lucid than Yip. He even gave us his name – Verik – and spoke of a great spectral galleon with ‘Audacity’ on the bow. Undead spirits had poured forth on the back of a mighty dracolich and laid waste to his village.

While he was talking, Mulaan noticed a loose stone in his hovel. Behind it was a notebook and a vial of green dust. Fenic drew his crossbow to encourage Verik to stay put. The notebook was written in a language Mulaan didn’t recognise, but Comprehend Languages revealed notes on the village and its inhabitants, and sketches of the island, the woods, and an altar seemingly in the woods. Verik was a spy.

If Verik was a spy, Yip could be a spy as well. Which seemed to confirm that after they attacked here, whoever was responsible would attack Phlan. Fenic and Mulaan tried to interrogate Verik but he was uncooperative. They got the impression he was stalling for time until the attack.

The party reconvened and devised a quick strategy to break Verik. Wuun inquired as to how long Verik had been observing the town. Particularly a man named Ulberto. Based on his observations, what did he believe Ulberto would do if informed that this ‘outside’ was a spy? Verik immediately broke and started begging to tell us everything he knew.

More evidence that this village isn’t alright.

Verik worked for the Cult of the Dragon. His boss, a young mage named Ixas, sought a long-lost artifact somewhere on the Moonsea coast. Verik had been sent ahead investigate leads on magical lore and sabotage any defences. And this place was a goldmine. There were all kinds of fucked shit going on here Verik was certain this was what Ixas was seeking. They would attack tonight. The attack would likely consist of a primary force invading from the landing, and a secondary group sneaking around to attack from the flank.

Verik had been very helpful. However, we needed to take him out of play while we made our next move. So… we handed him over to Ulberto. With a grin the right-armed butcher said he’d interrogate the outside for us, just in case he had left anything out. Verik screamed with horror as he was dragged into Ulberto’s smokehouse. And then the screaming stopped.

I don’t think Ulberto interrogated him.

We had to decide how to proceed. We could focus on the impending attack, focus on investigating how fucked this village clearly is, or try to do both. We decided to dedicate our efforts to thwarting the cultists before they got to Phlan. And then get away from the island as quickly as possible. This community was remote enough that they were only really hurting themselves anyway.

Duusha started digging trenches while the rest of the party tried to recruit other notable NPCs. Look, when you have negative Charisma you get stuck with the shit jobs. We had a shit time as well, however. A trio of creepy old crones (apparently venerated elders) engaged Wuun and Kallaad in a battle of wits. I don’t want to say how that went. Or how my character earned the nickname ‘simple girl’. Warsh, the crotchety ferrymaster, extorted a 20gp bribe from Fenic and Mulaan and still turned them down. It seemed the village would not be helping us prepare. At least we had Ulberto.

With a few hours until nightfall we focused the rest of our time on preparing defences. Thanks to Verik we had a fair idea of where they’d be attacking from. We dug a series of ditches and pits around the most likely paths and filled them with sharp objects and flammable oil. All we could do now was hope we had done enough.

Part 4 – Bump in the Night

We had done it again. In preparation for the attack we’d split the party. Wuun, Kallaad, and good buddy Ulberto watched the landing in preparation for the main group. Ulberto beamed as he informed us that, tragically, Verik had slipped on a cleaver before giving any information. Such an unfortunate accident. Fenic, Mulaan, and Duusha waited in the village, prepared for a secondary group to attack by stealth.

A thick fog descended on the island. The screams of the dead carried along the wind as the invaders attacked. They had covered themselves with bones and dirt, but it quickly became clear they were humans and kobolds in skeleton-face. The cultists were merely theatrical raiders expecting to ransack and slaughter a helpless village. They did not expect to fall into a ditch filled with spikes and oil and be set on fire. They especially did not expect heavily armed goblins to start stabbing them.

As we met our foes, the Folk rose to defend their village. It was a heart-warming moment. I’m kidding, things got even more fucked. They swarmed over the already surprised and terrified raiders, hacking and slashing with vicious glee. Warsh shouted words in a language that sounded fucked and a burst of hellfire engulfed a screaming kobold. The crones slit their wrists to summon a foul misshapen human-sized blobmonster that tore into the guts of a screaming human. Ulberto laughed as he choked a kobold so tightly the kobold’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

Okay, I’ve come to an ironclad conclusion on the question of whether this village is alright. It’s not.

Between the traps and the support of our good friends the Folk of the Village, that was easy. The last couple of kobolds practically begged to surrender. They were at the command of the Cult of the Dragon, and Ixas was waiting just offshore on their ship. They were to gather any books and magic items they could find and burn the rest. Any captives would be interrogated with a magic dracolich statue that fucked people up majorly.

We proposed we would use longboats from the landing to take the fight to everyone remaining on the ship. The villagers were very enthusiastic in favour of this plan of action. They were less enthusiastic when we mentioned we’d have to return for the horses. Hopefully they didn’t slaughter the horses in the meantime, they were a rental. Speaking of slaughter, Ulberto offered to take care of the surrendered kobolds for us.

Were we morally responsible for all the captives we fed to Ulberto? Possibly literally ‘fed’, he seemed like he might be into cannibalism. No time for that, time to fight the cultists!

Part 5 – High Seas

We approached on the cultists’ ship in our longboats. Then a terrible red light erupted from the ocean, accompanied by a sudden wave of heat and wind. An awful tearing sound reverberated, like the very fabric between planes had been ripped asunder. Screams of anger and fear could be heard from the ship. By the time we’d climbed up to get a look, the cultists were actually being attacked by pirates from the Audacity. They weren’t strictly ‘ghosts’, but they did have red skin and ghastly deformities – an arm burned down to the bone, a face covered with green pus-filled sores, a leg blackened with frostbite.

The DM explained that this would make more sense had we had investigated the village properly.

The cultists, still in skeleton-face, had found themselves besieged by their new foes. Everything was on fire, a fierce battle was being waged, and nobody was paying attention to us. So, we picked our spot and targeted the most significant bad guy we had intel on. Ixas was at the bow, freaked the fuck out and spending spell slots like dollar bills at a strip club. We employed the classic mage-killing stratagem – rush the caster and hit them with sharp objects until they die. With a triumphant roar, Kallaad severed Ixas’s head from his-

“Wait, we need to interrogate him!”

-that is, with a triumphant roar, Kallaad knocked Ixas unconscious. After losing their leader, the remaining cultists were quickly eradicated by the pirates. Sadly, the pirates decided they’d murder us next. Kallaad charged right into the thick of things (again) and nearly died (again). The party rallied to keep the meatshield alive and sniped from range to take out the rest of the pirate mooks.

It was down to the captain of the hell-pirates. He fought fiercely, cutting deeply with his longsword. He also had a lot of resistances and a fuckton of health so he was a pain in the arse. The flames on the deck spread as Kallaad and the pirate captain engaged in a spectacular display of skill and sheer savagery. Neither warrior would give ground. Neither would stop until the bitter end-

“I cast Sleep.”

-that is, neither would stop until Mulaan decided it was naptime. Combat won! The fire was spreading, we needed to act quickly. Fenic and Duusha dashed to the captain’s quarters and dumped anything interesting or valuable into the Bag of Holding. The rest of us manacled the captives and shoved them onto the longboats. As the two ships sank behind us, we rowed our prizes back to shore for a quick debriefing.

The captain of the pirate ship wasn’t thrilled to be in the Village. All he did was scream and rant at the assorted Folk on the shore. They had done this to him. He and his men had spent countless decades tortured in the bowels of hell because of what they did. He was going to break free and slaughter every man, woman, and child on the island and wear their skin for a- woops, it seemed the captain slipped and fell on Ulberto’s cleaver as well.

Apparently, there was some background stuff going on. Oh well, better to be alive than informed.

Next up, Ixas. He was very informative. He was a member of the old faction of the Cult of the Dragon. Because they had fundamentalist dragon cultists and reformist dragon cultists now. The fundamentalists stayed true to their dream of raising great and terrible dracoliches to savage the realm, while the reformists wanted to summon Tiamat, the great and terrible dragon deity, to savage the realm. They both hated gays and wanted to kill a whole bunch of people, you’d think they could get along.

The reformist cultists had heard rumours of a Dragon Mask in the area, an incredibly powerful draconic artifact. The fundamentalist cultists had sent Ixas to foil their efforts. He used the magical dracolich statue we'd found in his quarters to generate storms and interrogate their captives, and used rumours of a ghost pirate ship to deter investigation into their activities. Who would mess with ghost dragon zombie pirates?

It was too dangerous to take a spellcaster prisoner, and Mulaan confirmed all that information has covered in the journals we took from his ship. What to do, what to do… oh no he slipped and fell on Ulberto’s cleaver.

You know what? Ulberto is growing on me.

With the statue secured the storm had suddenly faded. Warsh offered to take us back to the mainland now and we were delighted to take him up on that. The girl from the village, Elisande, stowed away with us, bringing nothing but the clothes on her blind goat. I’m getting the impression she’s important somehow. Anyway, mission accomplished!

Conclusion

Knight Aleyd Burral and Doomguide Yovir Glendon were pleased the imminent danger had passed but very concerned about the feuding cultists. We’d made two solid contacts with our work, and continued to build wealth and reputation in Phlan

Yovir was especially interested in the dracolich statue. He believed he could use it to heal Yip. We had warned Yovir about Verik, but he reasoned that a spy would probably not end up tied to a chair far from the city’s defences or lore. And in any case the invading force had already been thwarted. Precautions would be taken, but Yovir believed Yip to be a farmer struck by a terrible malady rather than a nefarious cultist spy.

Ixas’s journals and Verik’s notes on the fucked-up island contained a lot of valuable information. So, we did the responsible thing and gave them to our contact in the Zhentarim, a shadow network bent on amassing wealth and influence. That could only be a good decision, right? Look, when you’re a city goblin you don’t choose your friends.

Elisande thrived away from her weird, fucked island, and found a home for a time with the Order of the Silent Shroud. Until one night she slipped away without a trace, accompanied again by her blind goat. Maybe we’d meet her again…

Or maybe the quarantine will be up in like two weeks and we won’t have time to fulfil these plotlines.

More important than anything else that happened this session, we levelled up. We did a two-session weekend just to get into our new shit.

Duusha unveiled her latest invention; a goblin-shaped bobblehead. Her siblings were unimpressed. Then the bobblehead unleashed a ferocious plume of flames. She became an Artillerist, dedicating her artifice craft to shooting fire out of every available orifice. There was an ‘incident’ along the way, so now Duusha has short hair, wears safety goggles, and no longer has eyebrows.

Mulaan added sharp objects to her act. A lot of sharp objects. She joined the College of Swords, an order of bards that entertained through daring feats of weapon prowess. Her main weapons were dual scimitars, but she also had a shortsword (her ‘swallowing sword’), a rapier, a hand crossbow, and a lot of daggers. Her only weakness was magnets. She dyed her hair blue and purple and added some colourful affects to her outfit. That wasn’t for the class, she just wanted to look nice.

Fenic grumbled. Magic users thought they were so cool. Well what if he learned magic? What if he showed them how stupid they all looked? Fenic learned magic and became an Arcane Trickster, augmenting his roguery with enchantment and illusion spells. His main weapon was an invisible Mage Hand he used as dextrously as his own. He added a cape to his outfit, the billowing folds concealing useful items for the hand to employ.

Kallaad disappeared into the woods one starry night, and nobody saw him for two days. When he returned, he wore an awesome bearskin cape. He followed the Path of the Totem Warrior, drawing strength and durability from the memory of the bear he slew with his bare hands. Kallaad adopted the moniker ‘The Jade Bear’ in his pit fights, his image enhanced by his new bulk and body hair.

Wuun had 2nd-level spells. That’s pretty much it. Clerics choose their domain at level 1.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

1-5: THE COURTING OF FIRE

An exiled cultist and his kobold minions are spotted searching long forgotten ruins in the DRAGONSPIRE MOUNTAINS. Rumours say he looks for a precious gift to give to a fearsome dragon that dwells there. What he hopes to attain with his gift is unknown, but can't be good for the citizens of Phlan…

I’ve been promising a dire farting bear for a while, so let’s say that’s what Kallaad killed. Finally the threat of Farty the Bear was ended.

Part 1 – Studies, Interrupted

The Rankfoot Clan was moving up in the world. We’ve been promoted from the graveyard to the library. Mantor’s Library was the centrepiece of Scholar’s Square, the large roof south of Podol Plaza on the map. A serene pond and garden adorned by a single bench outside, and great shelves piled high with accumulated knowledge within. Maybe we’ve been too tough on Phlan, this place sounded awesome.

The Lord Sage of Phlan, known only by his title, was not serene. He was a taciturn and elderly half-elf and very dedicated to his library. Yovir had referred him to us, telling him we were effective and reliable problem-solvers. And he had a problem. Two newly hired scribes had been caught sneaking out of his offices. When confronted they fled, killing a Black Fist soldier in the process. One of them, Tibeem, was captured, but Spernik remained at large. Wait a minute…


The random NPCs at The Laughing Goblin really had come back! I’ve got my eye on you, Ortal Gruk.

There were two rare tomes in their room. When he returned them to his private personal library he found altered forgeries already in their place. One of the books had been edited to omit a druidic cult, the Circle of Scale, that had sought to enslave dragons. The other book removed information about a circle of standing stones in the Dragonspine Mountains, where a bunch of druids used to live.

“I think Spernik travelled to the Dragonspine Mountains to investigate an ancient dragon cult.”
“Yovir said you were good, but he didn’t mention that you were also master detectives.”
“Okay that was a good one.”

Mulaan found a false panel in the dresser of their room, containing clothes with the insignia of the Cult of the Dragon and a shopping list for adventuring gear. The Lord Sage had one request – we needed to bring Spernik back alive. The Lord Sage needed to interview him to learn what further damage had been done to his library. Who knew how many other forgeries were already in place, what knowledge had been lost?

Fuck it, let’s visit the Knights of the Black Fist. We’re important now. They were based in Stojanow Gate, the fortress and jail that guarded the entrance to Valjevo Castle. Its inhabitants typically didn’t linger – convicts would either be released within a couple of days or ‘swing from Stojanow’. Tibeem could be seen against the massive stone wall overlooking Phlan, dangling from a noose. He had joined the latter group.

Knight Lieutenant Cron Bolver was a powerful man. He sat at a desk with a long line of people waiting to petition his aid. We got a few nasty looks as we cut in line saying we had an important request from the Lord Sage. Cron didn’t have much to tell us, however. Tibeem had been interrogated day and night and refused to talk. There were reports of a man matching Spernik’s description leaving the city, but that’s outside of his jurisdiction. Although if we found Spernik he asked he be returned alive. They had a spot on the wall reserved just for him, right next to his friend. Cron chuckled.

Why did we work with so many sociopaths?

Maybe there was more information to be found at The Laughing Goblin. The mood was more cheerful since our last visit, and the bartender Imizael greeted us with a warm mug of ale. Those aren’t meant to be warm, are they? She recommended the inn’s speciality, their legendary cabbage soup. Okay, this place was nicer than the big wall where they hanged people, but it wasn’t great.

Imizael was still no fan of gossip, though she did remember that Tibeem and Spernik skipped out on their tab. The waiter, Markoth (aka ‘Fat Mar’), had a bit more information, which we goosed out of him by revealing what really happened with that ghost ship. Tibeem and Spernik had arrived in Phlan little over four months ago. They were often seen with a third person, but he hadn’t been around in a couple of weeks. The three usually kept to themselves.

For the shopping list there was one place Tibeem and Spernik would have to visit – Cockburn’s Grocery. It was run by Tad Staslep, a balding middle-aged man who was the best source of adventuring gear in Phlan. He didn’t remember Spernik, but a man matching Tibeem’s description had made a lot of strange orders. He’d left a notebook behind during his last visit as well. It was mostly empty, but we found a crudely drawn map leading to a location in the Dragonspine Mountains. Now we knew where to go.

On our way out of town we ran into our good buddy Chaab from the Zhentarim. They were interested in establishing a base in the Dragonspine Mountains, and he heard we were investigating ruins in the area. If we could map out any, say, subterranean complexes we came across, he’d put in a good word for us.

Part 2 – The Temple of the Scale

It was two days of travel, even with the horses we rented. By the third morning we approached the standing stones referenced in stolen tomes. A rearguard of kobolds was carefully hidden, ready to ambush anyone looking to pursue Spernik for his crimes. They ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. But what they didn’t realise… is that we were third level now. Shit was about to pop off.

Winged kobolds took off, flying at what they thought was a safe altitude. That’s when Duusha unleashed her Eldritch Cannon aka Bobblehead of Doom. The little wood and stone bobblehead erupted fearsome torrents of flame, a repelling force attack, or a wave of healing energy on command. The best thing was it fired as a bonus action, leaving her to cast with one hand and blast her BoD with the other. The rest of the kobolds rushed in to try and take out the scary fire lady.

Fenic unleashed his ghost hand, causing havoc with wedgies and wet willies. The moment an enemy stopped paying attention Fenic fired a crossbow bolt into their throat. Mulaan elegantly twirled her twin scimitars in a whirling dervish of slicing and dicing vital organs. Kallaad’s cape streamed behind him as he charged into battle, all the surer of his indestructibility with Farty the Bear cheering him on. And Wuun… kept casting cantrips. Okay, I shouldn’t have made fun of Duusha.

In the middle of the stone circle, a staircase led down into the darkness. Oh, look, a subterranean complex. Tracks shows a sizeable contingent entering the chamber, so we descended into the darkness. It was in rough shape, but we could make out faded murals depicting the chromatic dragons and pillars carved in their form. There were gems inlaid in the pillars, that’s important to note for later. First we should deal with all the zombies.

The kobold combat was the most fun combat we’ve had this campaign. This zombie room was the worst combat ever to happen. You need to kill zombies with radiant damage or a critical hit or they have a chance of reviving. And Wuun kept missing with Sacred Flame, and nobody was landing crits, and they kept making their saves, and… here, look at round 5.

Kallaad uses Battleaxe on Zombie 9 (5 dmg)
Fenic uses Hand Crossbow+1 on Zombie 9 (sneak, 14 dmg)
Mulaan uses Scimitars on Zombie 3 (8 dmg, 6 dmg, dead)
-Zombie 3 uses Undead Fortitude (success, revives)
Duusha uses Fire Bolt on Zombie 3 (3 dmg, dead)
Duusha uses EC-Force Ballista on Zombie 9 (8 dmg, dead)
-Zombie 3 uses Undead Fortitude (success, revives)
-Zombie 9 uses Undead Fortitude (success, revives)
Wuun uses Sacred Flame on Zombie 3 (misses)
Zombie 3 uses Slam on Wuun (misses)
Zombie 9 uses Slam on Kallaad (3 dmg)
We killed all the zombies and will never speak of this again.

Spernik had barricaded himself behind the door to the next room. Nothing had gone the way he planned, the undead had risen, and the Cult of the Dragon did not foster a supportive workplace culture. Wuun weaved a cunning fiction – we were reinforcements allied with the Red Wizards, sent to ensure success. We rendezvoused with his forces outside and eradicated the zombies. Spernik opened the door with a relieved grin. He was just a kid, 19 years old and given his first big project. Wuun stepped forward to shake his hand and as their hands met, she cast 2nd-level Inflict Wounds.

“Weren’t we supposed to bring him in alive?”
“Don’t care.”

Spernik was fucked up, but not dead yet. Mulaan put Spernik to sleep before Wuun could kill him and ruin the mission. The other kobolds weren’t so lucky, they all got murdered horribly. Tied up, handcuffed, and surrounded by the corpses of his kobold associates, Spernik decided now was a good time to surrender.

Well, kind of. He acknowledged being a member of the Cult of the Dragon but refused to speak to any of their dark intrigues. He was more helpful about the temple though. There was a big red metal door sealed by magic that could only be opened by four parts of a key. They were in shrines in the complex and protected by traps, he had retrieved two so far, but we’d interrupted before he could solve the third.

We had technically already won the mission. But we had the bonus mission from the Zhentarim, and this seemed like a place that would have treasure. It was time to split the party! Mulaan babysat the captive and we looted the temple. Mulaan did get to loot Spernik though – a sweet silvered scimitar that would hit some enemies that resisted nonmagical damage, a magic ring, a journal, two dusty tomes from the library, and a valuable gem. He wouldn’t need them.

The rest of the party retrieved valuable gems from the main hall (Mage Hand is useful), fished out some gold coins from the living quarters, played keep-away with some grey oozes in the kitchen, and wiped out some undead in the crypt. Fenic led the party through the shrines, smugly disarming traps. We combined the two pieces of the key we retrieved with the two Spernik had, and it formed a multi-coloured steel object shaped like Tiamat’s holy symbol. It fit seamlessly into the final boss door and revealed another stairway. Time for the final room.

The five of us had seen motifs to white, black, blue and green dragons. The final room was dedicated to red dragons. The walls were a brilliant orange and scarlet, painted in loving tributes the fire-breathing beasts. At the centre was a strange object floating above an altar. It looked like a red version of Kallaad’s dragon scale shield, only… more. This was a relic from an unknown time, infused with epic magic.

That was final room treasure.

A monotone, undead voice warned us away. A wight, dressed in the robes we had found in the living quarters, looked down on us with a baleful stare. His crew of zombies loomed around us, unmoving. He was Scalebinder Skovac, and he used to be the-

“Don’t care, I shoot him in the face.”

It’s important to remember we were upset, and this was not reflective of our general approach to backstory.

Skovac shrugged off the sneak attack and activated a scroll, summoning an epic flaming blade. The zombies swarmed us in defence of the cult’s sacred relic. Kallaad charged forward and slashed at Skovac with tremendous force to no effect. Oh boy. Fenic popped off another sneak attack, he had more success with his magic weapon. Mulaan followed Kallaad into combat, slicing and dicing with her new silvered scimitar. And then the wight druid went down before he could make a single attack. Wuun drove away the zombies with Turn Undead and the combat was over.

Huh. That was easy.

Now, we did what adventurers do. We took that beautiful, magical, priceless relic from a time long past, and jammed it into our Bag of Holding. After finishing up the map and securing the captive one last time, the party started the long ride home.

Conclusion

First Ixas, now Spernik – why would a member of a secret cult with nefarious aims keep a journal? Tibeem and Spernik were ordered to retrieve the relic from the Cult of Scale. Scalebinder Skovac and his cult had sought to bind dragons to their will with this magical relic only to be overthrown by Scorlworyx, an angry red dragon who didn’t want to be bound. The Cult of the Dragon wanted to offer the relic to Scorlworyx to forge an alliance. Man, that would have been a cool story if we’d gotten Skovac or Spernik to talk.

Oh, that’s why the baddies kept journals.

The Lord Sage was delighted with our work. He paid handsomely for the return of the tomes and for relic. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the relic but was very excited to uncover its secrets.

Spernik was deposited at Stojanow Gate but didn’t join his friend on the wall. That’s all we knew. Which could be very bad for Spernik, or very bad for us.

Chaab gave us a hearty fist bump for our work scouting the temple. He assured us that our effort would be paid back double in our advancement in the network. Our efforts had been noted.

I think he just ripped us off.

Between sessions, Fenic got the Headband of Intellect because Duusha didn’t want it. He got all the best magic items.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

1-7: DRUMS IN THE MARSH

For the past several nights, drums have been heard on the wind, coming from the TWILIGHT MARSH. Each morning, more turn up missing from the nearby farms, leaving only muddy, clawed footprints heading towards the marsh…

Part 1 – Strange Disappearances

The Crossing Inn sat on the Trank River with docks for anyone travelling by yacht (or ‘keelboat’). The single-level establishment was spacious, comfortable, and a vital stop between Phlan and Melvaunt. Today it was as empty as a movie theatre during a global pandemic. The tavern owner, Romsan Kal, was a large man with a heavily scarred head. According to him, some scars came from a mind flayer and others from a dragon. But that wasn’t why he had invited us today.

For the last ten days drums have been echoing across the region from dusk ‘til dawn. When they stopped, properties along the river would be found empty. People had seen clawed footprints at the abduction sights and heard sounds coming from the river. All signs pointed to lizardfolk travelling upriver from the Twilight Marsh, but this was ridiculously aggressive even for them. Normally they only murdered and ate people who travelled near the marsh.

D&D sounded like a profoundly horrible place to live.

A human farmer burst in the door, frantic and out of breath. Taroo was a farmhand at the Renon farm and had been away for the last two days. He returned this morning and everyone at the farm was missing. Romsan had retired from this kind of work, but luckily he knew a group of capable adventurers who’d be able to look into this for him. Oh, that was us. I guess we weren’t doing anything that day.

Taroo steered a keelboat along the river for us, and on the way taught us how it worked. He looked visibly uncomfortable that none of us had experience on the river. Well for his information everyone online said Ranger was an underpowered class in 5E. And the people who had been taken didn’t need a river guide, they needed a group of stone cold badarses. So suck shit, Taroo.

However, he would need to teach us how to steer the boat or we’d all die in the marsh and nobody would stop the raiders.

We pulled up at the gravel bar. There were three farms along the path: the Renon farm, the Alyin farm, and the Tralio farm. The story was the same in all of them – obvious signs of a struggle, clawed footprints and clubs fashioned out of trees that grew in the marsh, all people and some livestock missing. It was the larger livestock that had been taken, chicken coops were left untouched.

At the Tralio farm there were some cattle remaining. A large bull prowled the edge of his enclosure, with three darts stuck in his side and blood caked on his horns. A trail of blood led away from the pen, it seemed he had put up a fight. They would probably be back, however. We could lay a trap.

“What if we got the bull to help us?”
“I have Speak with Animals thanks to my subclass.”
“Alright, cast and then negotiate with the… bull, I guess, Kallaad.”
“Do you think Vera will give me a chance now Kallaad is cheating on her with livestock?”

Norman the Bull lived a quiet life. He ate, bred, and scared off the occasional wolf. But last night the foodfolk had been taken away by invaders. The invaders had come for his herd as well, but he was strong. He would protect his herd. A creature approached him, like the invaders but smaller, and wearing the fur of a predator. The invaders would return, the small thing said. He would protect his herd, Norman replied. We can help, the small person offered. They reached an accord.

The drums began at dusk. Taroo had travelled back to The Crossing Inn for the night, and would return in the morning. Mulaan and Fenic created illusory haybales large enough for most of the party to hide in, but Kallaad waited with Norman. Two lizardfolk approached, close enough to spot Kallaad and Norman, and then retreated. Scouts, probably. It wouldn’t be long now.

Norman spotted the invaders upon their return. Not yet, his new friend warned. They needed to wait for the invaders to draw closer before springing their attack. Norman snorted. He did not need to hide or trap. Norman would stand tall and woe to anyone foolish enough to threaten him or his herd. A shimmering field glistened over Norman, and another bull approached seemingly out of nowhere. It didn’t smell like a bull, however. Norman would not be fooled.

“Did you really cast Shield of Faith and Silent Image to protect a bull?”
“I use Bardic Inspiration on Norman.”
“I use my Bobblehead of Doom to give Norman bonus HP.”

The invaders fired their darts, but they bounced off. Weak and pitiful. Now, his friend shouted! Norman charged at the nearest invader. It was a ferocious battle, lizardfolk and bull fighting with savage intent. Norman took heavy blows but would not give in. He wounded the invader with his mighty horns and the invader’s resolve wavered. They turned to run but Norman was too fast. He caught the escaping invader in the back, goring and trampling them to the ground. Norman the Bull: 2, Lizardfolk: 0.

Also, we murdered/drove off the other five lizardfolk but this was Norman’s day. The last surviving lizardfolk jumped on a raft and fled downstream. We cast a healing spell on Norman-

“You guys are burning a lot of resources buffing the cow.”

-and went to follow the raft. Their torches shone bright in the night, and even without that we could just follow the loud fucking drums deeper into the marsh

Norman watched the people leave. Part of him thirsted to join them, for the thrill of battle. However, he had other responsibilities. Someday though…

“I looked it up, bards get Awaken at level 9.”
“Can we make him a party member?”
“Maybe he can lead his own party.”

Part 2 – Into Twilight Marsh

We tracked the lizardfolk downriver. The swamp was not without its dangers, but the thundering drums and the torchlight of our quarry kept us on target. After several hours of river navigation (and a couple of giant toads that had to be regulated), we came upon the lizardfolk’s home. A ringed series of islands formed a, well, ring, and the primary island where everyone had gathered lay within. We took the time to explore the outer ring and plan our attack.

A crudely assembled village had been demolished. There were crushed buildings and large claw marks, but what had done the most damage was something that had seemed to eat away at its victims. Like acid, or land-walking piranhas. Hopefully acid. Crude effigies had been erected in the form of a dragon. A particularly large lizardfolk vandalised the tributes to the dragon, however. With a snarl, they spotted us and disappeared into the night. We were pretty sure that would come up later.

To the Y-shaped island in the centre. Three groups of lizardfolk had split into corners of the island. Many prisoners were being kept in cages at the end of each corner, and each group focused only on their own prisoners. A plan was devised – there were rafts clustered by each corner as well. We could sneak up on one corner, free one group before we were noticed and then… be attacked by thirty lizardfolk? Even if we helped some people as well there was no way we’d be able to save the livestock.

Okay, it wasn’t a perfect plan, but there were near forty people awaiting certain death. We had to help them somehow. If we were quick and stealthy, we could rescue like twenty people before being eaten by lizards. Fenic (“we will all die”) was vocally against the plan and Duusha (“I don’t want to die”) reluctantly joined him. But Kallaad (“For Norman!”), Mulaan (“this will make an amazing story”), and Wuun (“If we survive, we’ll be able to raise our fee considerably”) were in favour. I think we’re trending towards Good?

We snuck in and assassinated the guards around the first group of cages. Fenic made quick work of the locks and the prisoners surged out, taking the fight to the lizardfolk. That raised the odds in our favour somewhat. Then the large lizardfolk we spotted earlier erupted into the clearing and murdered one of the clan chiefs. He immediately took charge of that clan and led them into battle with another of the clans. Maybe we weren’t going to die!

Fenic took a detour – there was a big hut on the main island with a partially dissolved lizardfolk head out front. It was probably an important lizardfolk – their death had been made a spectacle, and they had the largest hut of any on the island. Maybe the most important lizardfolk had good shit to steal? It seemed like an insane thing to do during a suicide mission, but as an adherent of the Master of all Thieves this would probably behove Fenic in the afterlife. Mulaan cast Invisibility on him to give him better odds.

It was a good impulse, Fenic found some excellent loot. However, we took a bit longer to clear out the second group of guards and had drawn some unwelcome attention. The lizardfolk who had gatecrashed the party stopped us, with a shaman and a small retinue of guards. All around, a chaotic fight between lizardfolk aligned with him, lizardfolk against him, and rescued prisoners raged. The gatecrasher was named Bogclaw, and he was the rightful heir of the deposed ruler. He would cement his authority by putting our heads on spikes, and then lead his tribe in defiance of Throstulgrael. Who?

Unbeknownst to him, an invisible Fenic approached the last group of cages. The surging prisoners had begun to make for the rafts as well. All we needed to do was keep Bogclaw’s attention on us.

Kallaad charged at Bogclaw, exchanging fierce blows with the would-be king. Wuun and an illusory copy of herself ran into melee as well, trying to confuse Bogclaw into exposing a vulnerability. Duusha blasted away at range with her Bobblehead of Doom, and Mulaan twirled her blades at the lizardfolk shaman. Bloody wounds erupted on the shaman, and he concentrated the natural magics of the swamp into a deadly counter- a crossbow bolt protruded out of his throat. Fenic reappeared with a wink, his work done.

Bogclaw was a fearsome opponent. If anything Kallaad and Wuun were losing the battle, but Kallaad was tough and Wuun had healing magic – they could do this all day. Mulaan, Duusha, and Wuun shepherded the remaining civilians to the rafts before the convenient infighting ended – Bogclaw’s forces were gaining the clear advantage and the holdouts seemed to be wavering. Suddenly a bull appeared and charged Bogclaw! He leaped out of the way, but as he looked around the bull seemed to have vanished. When he turned back, we were already gone.

Fenic dispelled the illusion with a grin. Okay, it was worth giving him the Headband of Intellect.

Conclusion

We made a strange flotilla the way back. Nothing on the river wanted to fuck with an expedition of forty-five people so we had some time to breathe.

One of the prisoners, a dwarven merchant named Volk, spoke Draconic and was able to explain what happened. A black dragon, Throstulgrael, had sacked the village and forced the survivors to take part in a contest. The clan chief that could gather the most prisoners in tribute by the end of two weeks would become the new leader. Under Throstulgrael, of course. Now their prisoners were gone, and they had been united under a leader who hated the dragon. The lizardfolk would be too busy with Throstulgrael to be a problem for the farmers anymore.

This left Throstulgrael, who would likely still be a problem.

The Renons returned to their farm and Norman the Bull returned to peaceful normalcy. The spark of battle remained, however. Someday trouble would come again. And Norman would be ready.

“I’m not kidding about awakening Norman. It is going to happen.”

Not to mention that even the people with the equipment and skills to survive a world like this earn them by doing extraordinarily dangerous things that will likely end in their violent horrific deaths anyway. For every PC and retired adventurer there are like ten corpses floating in gelatinous cubes or incubating slaad larvae.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

1-9: OUTLAWS OF THE IRON ROUTE

The IRON ROUTE, an important trade road east of Phlan, is beset by competing bandits. An exiled Black Fist officer leads his band of mercenaries turned cloaked ruffians, while a mysterious dragonborn sorcerer commands screaming savages from the north. In this war over the trade route, the beleaguered merchants are the victims, and Phlan suffers from a lack of supplies…

*John Williams score*

An old friend got in touch, Ellison Berenger, the scroll thief lying low after escaping from Stojanow Gate. He’d heard information regarding two bandit groups that were causing problems for Phlan. Given our penchant for going to extraordinary lengths to pursue thieves – and murderers, Kallaad noted sourly – Ellison thought we’d be interested. He had arranged a meeting for us that we would find ‘illuminating’.

Part 1 – Riot in Phlan

Rain fell on a city in turmoil. People were upset when corruption and infighting paralysed the city. They were angry when the Lord Regent enacted martial law. And now, they were running out of food. They were livid. An angry crowd had gathered in Podol Plaza, a line of Black Fist knights standing between the throng of protesters and Valjevo Keep. That’s when the Rankfoot Clan entered the scene. Our contact, Braden Yil, was cowering by a merchant’s wagon.

A dishevelled citizen stormed up to a soldier, wanted notice clutched in her hand. The mongrel starving Phlan was a knight of the Black Fist himself! They went hungry because the Lord Regent’s goons couldn’t handle their own! The soldier met her gaze with silent scorn. The notices were posted around town. Sahnd Krulek, outlaw chief of the notorious ‘Grey Patriots’, was wanted for robbery, murder, and sedition.

A rotten vegetable splattered against a knight’s armour, and that was the final straw. Chaos erupted as the Black Fist waded into the fray with their cudgels. A mob of hungry citizens descended upon the merchant’s wagon. His goods were going to waste, spat one. Braden Yil shouted for help. Duusha unleashed her Bobblehead of Doom, firing a torrent of flame into the air. Back off or my pyromaniac sister will roast you alive, Mulaan snarled. Kallaad wrestled a man off the cart. Uncowed, the man reached for his club. Wuun gave a signal and the mob immediately threatening the caravan all fell asleep. Fenic smirked.

The Black Fist quelled the riot, using the tried-and-true method of hitting protesters with heavy objects until they stopped protesting. Braden was very grateful for our assistance. He was a merchant in the employ of House Cardona, and he had a proposition for brave adventurers willing to fight for justice.

Trade supplies had been forced inland due to inclement weather. This was a tremendous boon for bandits. There were two groups – one led by disgraced Black Fist soldier Sahnd Krulek, and another by an insane dragonborn sorcerer who sacrificed her victims to Tiamat. A bloody war had erupted between them, giving merchant caravans a brief respite. If we could deal with these groups more permanently, House Cardona would be willing to pay. Plus, the Black Fist already had a bounty on Sahnd Krulek’s head.

One of Sahnd’s Grey Patriots had been captured in a failed attack on a House Sokol caravan. She was being kept at Grimshackle Jail, a private prison north of Phlan that sold its residents to the highest bidder. So yeah, it’s a private prison. That would be our best place to start.

Part 2 – Grimshackle Jail



Our brave adventurers were soaked to the bone when they arrived at Grimshackle Jail. The tower was appropriately grim, dank, and dark. There were very few windows, and yet the tower offered little protection from the rain. Braden Yil handed us a purse filled with gold pieces to ease negotiations, though for moral reasons he refused to come inside. He also emphatically stated that under no circumstance would he be willing to pay a ransom to the noxious jailers.

A filthy, bedraggled halfling answered the front door. He was Bhevek Grimshackle. Only bounty hunters or idiots with gold allowed to enter, he barked. Well, we’d be idiots with gold. Come on in, he offered with a broad smile. He led us through a poorly maintained courtyard into the first floor of the tower and introduced his brother Ukharim Grimshackle. So how could we part with our gold today?

Mulaan had bad news. You see, we weren’t actually the idiots with gold. A prison guard raised a crossbow at us. There was also good news! We were here to interview one of their prisoners, the Grey Patriot, on behalf of an idiot with gold. Should we be satisfied with her condition and information, our contact outside would absolutely be willing to pay whatever you fine gentlemen charged. Ukharim grinned. It would be 10 gold to see the prisoner.

Bhevek led us up the tower. We passed a cell door reinforced with extra bars and chains. Oh good, that won’t come up later. At the very top we met our target, Rathene Fel. She was a half-orc in tattered rags, sitting in a pool of rainwater and… well, we didn’t see any chamberpots. This jail sucked. She had no loyalty to Sahnd Krulek, he had abandoned her here to die. She would tell us everything about him. We just needed to get her to a better cell, or out of here.

Bhevek replied he would not move her to a new cell, and that her ransom would be 100 gold pieces. However, in the flickering torchlight, Rathene saw the keys on Bhevek’s belt silently slide out of place. Or you could tell us now, Mulaan offered. Rathene hesitated, and the keys moved back towards the jailer’s belt. No, wait! She cried. She’ll tell us anything we needed to know.

Sometimes I worry we’re the bad guys.

The Grey Patriots and Claws of Tiamat were meeting at the King's Pyre, a couple of days to the west. They planned to discuss a truce. Sahnd was a former knight of the Black Fist, framed for sedition when he arrested an influential noble. Other knights helped him escape and they turned to banditry to punish the merchant and noble class. The Claws of Tiamat were led by Jeralla. Her wild magic had warped and mutated her kobold minions; her lieutenant was a winged kobold with two heads. Fenic returned Bhevek’s keys to his belt. Thank you, Mulaan grinned. She’d been very helpful. Rathene howled in anguish and fury as we walked away.

Karma intervened as we turned to leave. Shouts and alarm bells rang out from the floors below. That’s the prisoner alarm, Bhevek gasped. Oh good, we’re stuck at the top of a tower during a prison break. We hurried down the steps, to see the reinforced and chained door in tatters. A minotaur with a peg leg advanced on us menacingly. Blood for Captain Walharrow, he cried! Wait! Wuun shouted. The exit is that way. And so we let a violent murderer escape.

There was shouting elsewhere on the floor. A jailer, Iorg Brokenjaw, had a shortsword to Ukharim Grimshackle’s throat. He was here to free Rathene, and if we got in his way he would cut the halfling’s throat. What to do, what to do- nevermind, Fenic shot Iorg in the neck. Thus ended the dramatic potential of named character Iorg Brokenjaw. Who knew the strange, twisted journey that led him to turn on his bosses to free a known bandit-

“Sahnd Krulek promised him 25 gold.”

Ah. Ukharim offered us anything in exchange for his life, anything at all. We asked for our ten gold back. Outside, Braden Yil had suffered the terrifying experience of having his horse stolen by an angry minotaur. In an unrelated note, he smelled like a man who had recently shit his pants. He was extremely alarmed to hear of a potential truce between the bandit groups. He begged us to travel to Kings’ Pyre to sabotage the meeting.

But first, he would need a lift back to Phlan. And new pants.

Part 3 – King's Pyre

The journey along the Iron Route was uneventful. We passed the dock to ‘the Village’ from 1-3 and kept riding. No way we were dealing with those maniacs again. After two long days, we approached King's Pyre. This session had great maps, by the way.



We approached from the west. The plan was to make for the caves you see early in the path and hope there was a system we could sneak through. On the way, we saw a dead human tied to a tree. His armour was torn open and ‘GO HOM’ was carved into his chest. There was a letter on his body, the Order of the Gauntlet had sent a party to investigate rumours of ritual sacrifice. That went well, clearly.

Just inside the cave entrance, a bunch of kobolds were watching two giant weasels fight. One of the kobolds had a mane of slithering tentacles, a mutation from Jeralla’s wild magic. Real creepy. Between Mulaan and Fenic, they were all asleep before anyone saw us. We returned the giant weasels to their cages and dragged the kobolds further into the cave to interrogate them.

The Claws of Tiamat were in the tents further down the path, and the Grey Patriots were on the other side of the giant statue. Jeralla and Sahnd Krulek were meeting in the statue’s lap. There were prisoners being kept for ritual sacrifice, they were on the ground-level caves by the Claws of Tiamat camp. On sign of a double-cross, Jeralla would signal to a kobold standing on the edge of the giant cup to set it ablaze. On that signal, the entire gang would charge into conflict with the other. Now we had to deal with the prisoners…

“You can’t keep playing Good characters and executing helpless prisoners in cold blood.”
“Okay, we’ll drag them back to our horses, escort them to Phlan, have the Black Fist arrest them, and return in four days. And we’ll do the same thing with the next group of kobolds we run into.”

We executed the helpless prisoners in cold blood.

The cave system was fantastic. The kobolds weren’t really using it, and we had access to the entire area. And we had a cunning plan to get to the cup. We would buff Kallaad like crazy, and he would climb from the west cliff caves down the statue and then to the cup. Once he lit the cup, mission accomplished. Then we’d sneak in and rescue the prisoners.

Kallaad quickly made his way down the statue. He was invisible, stronger than usual, climbing with magical assistance, more stealthy than usual, and even had an all-purpose inspiration buff. Kallaad passed the two gang leaders loudly exchanging threats and posturing. A nervous kobold stood at the edge of the cup, eyes locked on the negotiation for the signal. Kallaad silently approached from behind…

While this was happening, we heard voices in the cave. Wuun, Mulaan, and Fenic went to investigate. Yup, we’re super splitting the party. A two-headed winged kobold was speaking into a sending stone (magic walkie-talkie). Probably Jeralla’s second in command. Mulaan snuck up right behind the kobold, with Fenic’s Mage Hand carrying the manacles. Jeralla won’t suspect a thing, the kobold whispered. There’s no better time to attack! Kill the heretic, and the Cult of the Dragon would shower him with gold! The name Narle Shieldbiter would echo through the ages!

“Shieldbiter? Like pillowbiter?”
“Truly a name what strikes fear into the hearts of anyone who hears it.”

Mulaan jumped on the kobold as the manacles snapped into place. With a yelp he tried to fly away, and Mulaan only barely got a hold of the chains. Fenic and Wuun ran in to help. Four small-sized creatures with negative Strength modifiers scratched and clawed on the cave floor. After an unsightly struggle, the kobold’s wings were tightly bound. But not before he’d shouted a warning into the sending stone. Whatever the Cult was sending, it was coming.

“In the next group, maybe 80% of the party doesn’t take Strength as a dump stat.”

At that moment, Kallaad lit the cup. War had begun and it was time to rescue the prisoners. So Kallaad was climbing back to the caves, Duusha was giving aerial support, Mulaan was watching the prisoner, and Wuun and Fenic snuck down to the captives. Super-duper splitting the party.

All the kobolds were out fighting the Grey Patriots, so we were able to untie the captives without incident. A half-elf wearing the pin of the Harpers identified himself as Sirge Wintermelt. His people had learned that the Cult of the Dragon was mustering a warband of orcs. It was vital we captured Sharrak, Jeralla’s two-headed winged lieutenant secretly loyal to the Cult of the Dragon. Huh, funny story about that.

Everyone reunited in the cave. Sirge was pleasantly surprised to learn that we had in fact already captured Sharrak. The peace talks were shattered, the gangs at war, the prisoners were freed, and a Cult of the Dragon spy had been captured. Looks like we were out of here, mission fully accomplished, nothing more to worry about-

Part 4 – Orc Assault

Oh hell.

We led the rescued prisoners and Sharrak through the caves, trying to get out of here before all hell broke loose. An orc emerged at the mouth of the cave, wearing a helmet crudely shaped like a dragon skull. With him were six other orcs. For the Scaled Lords, they snarled!

“And now, finally, roll initiative please.”

Huh. Yeah, we put the rioters to sleep, let the minotaur escape, sneak attacked the jailer, put the kobolds to sleep, set the outlaws to war against each other, and then wrestled the spy into submission. Pacifist run! I mean, except for all the people we killed.

Mulaan slashed an orc to ribbons and Fenic finished it off with a carefully placed crossbow bolt. Kallaad erupted from invisibility and sliced another orc in twain. The orcs got a couple of shots in with their rusty axes, but most of the battle went like that. Duusha blasted an orc in the face with her Bobblehead of Doom, even Wuun got one, the final orc dying clutching at their ears. We could stick around and take advantage of the chaos or get the hell out of there. Wuun enveloped the group in a magical veil of shadows and silence and we chose the latter.

From the peak we saw a bestial orog atop a giant wolf, leading his troops into the fray. Narle Shieldbiter, we assumed. Safe to say he was a power bottom. The Claws of Tiamat were routed immediately, Jeralla falling to the orog’s greataxe. The last thing we saw was Sahnd Krulek desperately marshalling what remained of his forces, making a last stand with his lieutenants as the orc war band bore down on them.

Do we get paid if technically the orcs killed all our targets?

Conclusion

The people we rescued from were happy to testify that we had caused the demise of the outlaw gangs. They were a little fuzzy on the details, but we got paid. The merchant caravans resumed over the following days and their safe arrivals were met with great cheer. Phlan could eat again.

Except for the protesters who got smashed in the face with Black Fist cudgels. They probably weren’t eating that well.

The Harpers and the Order of the Gauntlet weren’t exactly thrilled with us – both groups were pretty opposed to the Zhentarim in general – but grudgingly acknowledged that we had done a good job. Their ranks were open, should any of us experience a change of conscience.

Chaab was thrilled we had represented the Zhentarim with such esteem. It would have been nice if we could have brought Sahnd Krulek in, but all in all we had done spectacularly. In fact, he had an opportunity a bit further away from Phlan. The Zhentarim, the Order of the Gauntlet, the Harpers, even the Emerald Enclave and the Lords’ Alliance were all coming together for one big operation to foil the Cult’s activities in the Moonsea…