24th of Flamerule of the year 1492
The group started their day with the intent of retrieving a package, but as they stepped into Haeleeya’s bathhouse, they were met with something far more perplexing. The air inside the bathhouse was warm and scented with the faint fragrance of lavender and soap, a stark contrast to the tension of their previous journeys. Standing before them was a woman, not a delivery person as they had expected, but someone different. The interaction began with confusion, as they realized the “package” might not be what they thought:
“Hello.”
“Um, hello there. We’re here for the package”
“Well, who are you?”
“We were told that one of ours, Fogo, sent us a package. Do you know Fogo?”
“Hmm, I’ve heard of Fogo, yes”
“Yes, so, I’m Vlad, and you are?”
“My name is Serafina. So, you all know Dlara?
“Oh, yes, we do know Dlara.”
“There has been a request of her from the High Druids to send assistance to Fogo’s friends who’ve been encountering some elemental cultists. Are you familiar with them?”
“We are said friends”
Seraphina took a step closer, the soft light in the bathhouse casting shadows across her face. She continued to explain that Dlara, while well-intentioned, was far too busy to handle the matter herself. It became clear that Seraphina had been sent in her place. Her robes, though simple, were adorned with faint markings of druidic symbols, and her expression was one of calm confidence.
“I know that they have asked Dlara for some assistance With Fogo’s friends and taking care of some elemental problems. As you know, Dlara is immensely busy. In addition to that, Dhelosk, I overheard a conversation with her and Dhelosk speaking about the planar instabilities that are happening in the valley. I am Dlara’s apprentice, and I have volunteered to come and help you. There are no scrolls, there is only me.”
The group exchanged glances; a bit puzzled by the mention of a package. It wasn’t what they had expected, and the misunderstanding lingered in the air.
“Thank you. A bit confusing for them to say package.”
“Well, it would have been a package if there were scrolls. But I thought this was a good opportunity for myself as well, to learn more about cultists, the planar instability, doing some research that I was interested in.”
With the misunderstanding settled, the group decided to return to the Blackbutter Inn. As they made their way through the town, the smell of baked bread and the sound of hammers striking anvils filled the air, reminding them of the bustle that had taken over the village in preparation for the Midsummer festivities. Once at the inn, they secured rooms for the next ten-day, opting for a large, four-person room where they could speak in private. The inn was bustling with activity, and the sounds of clinking mugs and laughter from downstairs drifted up as they climbed the creaky wooden stairs.
Inside the room, the group sat around a small, worn wooden table, the dim light from a single lantern casting shadows across their faces. They began to share their stories with Seraphina, but the tales were fragmented and incomplete. Each member contributed pieces, but no one provided a full picture. The chaos of their encounters with elemental cultists was evident, and it seemed that no one had the complete story. They told her about a portal they had encountered and two locations where they had felt something strange—a thinness between the Material Plane and the Elemental Planes. As they spoke, they showed her a golden statue they had found, an artifact that had mysteriously and temporarily closed these portals.
Seraphina listened intently; her brows furrowed as she considered the implications. Yllanys took the opportunity to share his own connection to the events, recounting his role as an assistant to a dwarven sage who had been part of a delegation from Mirabar. His voice was tense as he spoke of the delegation’s kidnapping, and he stressed the importance of rescuing the sage, believing that the sage held crucial information regarding the cultists.
Seraphina took a deep breath, clearly weighing the information the group had shared before she began to speak. She explained the nature of elemental planes and the portals connecting them to the Material Plane. Her voice was calm, but the severity of what she was saying weighed heavily on the group.
“Air is the openness, earth is the weight of underground, water is the darkness of the ocean, and fire is the volcano.”
She elaborated further, detailing how natural portals to the elemental planes exist in places such as the sky for air, deep beneath the earth for earth, within the ocean’s depths for water, and inside volcanos for fire. These natural occurrences were rare but not inherently dangerous. However, the situation in the Dessarin Valley was different. These portals were appearing with alarming frequency, suggesting that the elemental planes were pressing into the Material Plane. If left unchecked, it could result in a planar collapse, pulling the valley into chaos where the very elements of air, earth, fire, and water would merge with the Material Plane.
This information weighed heavily on the group, who now realized the gravity of their mission. They asked Seraphina if she knew of Olhydra, the Princess of Evil Water, and her connection to these events. Seraphina nodded grimly before speaking.
“Olhydra is one of the evil elemental princesses along with Imix, the Prince of Evil Fire, Ogremoch, the Prince of Evil Earth, and Yan-C-Bin, the Prince of Evil Air. Each prince of Elemental Evil is a unique being unlike any other elemental, or any of the other princes. Some embody the combination of elements—for example, Bwimb, the Lord of Ooze, or Cryonax, the Prince of Evil Cold. The princes aren’t concerned with spreading wickedness among mortals or making any kind of order or philosophy dominant in the world. Their evil is blind, destructive, and hungry. They hate the way the world is made and the natural laws that constrain their favored elements. They resent the gods who shaped the world, and the mortals for whom the world was shaped, especially mortals who seek to impose their will on the elements. The princes unleash natural catastrophes at every opportunity, and gladly crush or devour mortals to assert their mastery over the world.”
The group sat in silence for a moment, the magnitude of their task sinking in. They were no longer dealing with just cultists; they were facing forces far beyond their initial understanding. The discussion turned to their next moves. Some wanted to speak with Harburk, others planned to visit the Allfaith’s Shrine, and a few considered seeking counsel from Banmin and the dwarves. The streets of Red Larch bustled with activity as they made their way through town, shops preparing for the grand Midsummer and Shieldmeet festivals, banners fluttering in the warm breeze.
Fwoosh, not seeing any place to honor Mask, took it upon himself to drop a few gold coins into the shrine’s donation box. Lymmura mentioned the upcoming Faire, explaining that it would attract many outside merchants and feature various games and contests for both adults and children, an event that promised to bring excitement to the small town.
Lymmura
Gila
Once their business at the shrine was complete, the group made their way back to the Blackbutter Inn. As they entered, they noticed Yllanys, who was thoroughly enjoying his meal. He had eaten half of a boiled egg and was now meticulously slicing it into thin slices, savoring each piece. He offered the remaining half to Ace, much to the amusement of the group, as he seemed content with just half an egg. The odd scene provided a moment of humor, a brief respite from the seriousness of their situation.
Gathered around the table, the group ordered food and drinks, the atmosphere in the inn warm and welcoming despite the tension from earlier. Delillia, their server, came over to take their orders, and soon after, Gwendolyn arrived with drinks for the party. She stayed for a while, chatting with the group, and explained that Dhelosk had generously donated minor magical items as prizes for the winners of the upcoming contests. This sparked a conversation about the different games, and the group began sharing stories about Yllanys and his bizarre fascination with his skin, recounting how he would tear off pieces to create a “skin man.”
Delillia Quelbeard
The mood lightened further until Gwendolyn mentioned some stories she had heard about Vladimir’s sister. At this, Vladimir’s demeanor changed, and without a word, he got up and left the inn for a long walk, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Outside, the streets were quieter, and Vladimir wandered toward the new dwarven forge, curiosity driving him forward. However, he was quickly turned away by a halfling who informed him that the forge was not yet open but would be ready by the Faire’s start. With nowhere else to go, Vladimir eventually made his way back to the inn.
Gwendolyn Venelli
Halfling at the Dwarven Forge
Meanwhile, back in the four-person room, Ace was brainstorming ways to cheat at the upcoming games, despite knowing very little about what they would actually involve. His suggestions were met with mild amusement but were mostly dismissed by the others. Eventually, the group settled down, and one by one, they drifted off to sleep, their minds heavy with the knowledge of the challenges ahead. The inn, now quiet, seemed to mirror the calm before the storm that was sure to come.
25th of Flamerule of the year 1492
The morning at the Blackbutter Inn began quietly, with Yllanys already downstairs, engaged in his slow, deliberate breakfast routine. Seated at a long wooden table near the window, he carefully sliced thin pieces from a croissant. The inn’s golden morning light poured in through the window, illuminating his methodical movements as if the task were of the utmost importance. Each slice was cut with precision, and he ate the thin pieces with great relish, as if savoring not only the food but the entire experience. By the time the rest of the group descended from their rooms, Yllanys was just finishing his breakfast, wiping crumbs from his fingers with a satisfied expression. His slow pace contrasted sharply with the rest of the party, who quickly noticed the absence of Vladimir.
When Vladimir finally joined them, over half an hour later, his appearance left no doubt that he had spent a restless night. Dark circles ringed his eyes, his hair was tousled, and he moved with the sluggishness of someone who had spent more time tossing and turning than actually sleeping. His scowl was deep, and he muttered about bad dreams as he slumped into his chair. His usually sharp demeanor was replaced by a sullen, disgruntled mood, and his posture seemed to carry the weight of his troubled sleep. The group exchanged knowing glances but chose not to pry too deeply into his night. Instead, they turned their attention to breakfast, filling their plates with fresh bread, eggs, and thick slices of bacon. As they ate, they discussed the day’s tasks, the warm fire crackling in the hearth creating a sense of cozy security, even as they planned their next steps.
Their first destination was Tantur’s Smithery, a place where the sound of hammers on anvils was ever-present. This morning, the sharp clangs of metalwork echoed down the street as the group made their way through the bustling village. For once, they remained together, opting not to split into smaller groups. The scent of coal smoke and hot iron greeted them as they stepped into the forge, where Laefra Tantur was hard at work. The smithy was a place of raw power, with the air thick from the heat of the furnace and the rhythmic pounding of metal shaping under hammers. Laefra, her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back, welcomed them with a nod but raised an eyebrow at the sorry state of their armor.
Laefra Tantur
“This looks like someone’s been using a can opener on it,” she remarked dryly, running her hands over the deep dents and gashes in the metal. Her brow furrowed as she inspected the damage, clearly intrigued by how such devastation had been wrought on sturdy plate mail.
The group sheepishly explained the battles they had endured, though they glossed over the more dangerous details. Laefra listened without pressing for more information, but the look on her face suggested that she had seen her fair share of warriors in dire straits. She agreed to repair the armor, though it would take about seven days for her to fully restore it. ISAC, along with two others, left their gear behind, and the group exited the smithy, the heat of the forge following them into the cool morning air. The promise of a week without their armor weighed on them, but Laefra’s skill was well-known, and they trusted she would have it ready in time.
With their armor repairs settled, everyone except ISAC and Yllanys made their way to Harburk’s office, while the latter two returned to the Blackbutter Inn to focus on crafting scrolls. The constable’s office, usually a bare and functional space, had been given a minor facelift since their last visit. The wooden walls had a fresh polish, and the smell of new parchment mixed with the scent of leather-bound tomes gave the office a sense of renewed purpose. They were greeted by a young deputy who seemed eager to please, his eyes wide with admiration for the seasoned adventurers standing before him. As they chatted briefly, the group’s eyes wandered to the wanted board, which now displayed a few fresh bounties.
The group read through the descriptions; their interest piqued:
WANTED Garett “Quick Hands” Mullin Crime: Assault and Battery Reward: 25gp. Description: Garett Mullin, a known troublemaker, has been charged with assaulting a townsperson during a dispute at the Helm at Highsun. Witnesses claim he struck multiple people before fleeing the scene. He is about 5’9”, wiry, with shaggy brown hair and a scar on his left cheek. Known to frequent taverns and shady gambling dens. Approach with caution, as he is considered dangerous when cornered.
WANTED Malia “Thornfoot” Iltorin Crime: Trespassing and Property Damage. Reward: 15gp. Description: Malia Iltorin, a local hunter, is wanted for repeatedly trespassing on private farmland near the outskirts of Red Larch and setting illegal traps, causing damage to livestock and crops. She is a lean woman in her late twenties, with wild red hair, often wearing patched leathers and carrying a Shortbow. She has been seen hiding in the Sumber Hills. Last known to travel with her wolfhound, Scruff.
WANTED Heth “Hammer” Arnrow Crime: Public Drunkenness and Disorderly Conduct. Reward: 10gp. Description: Heth Arnrow, a blacksmith’s apprentice, is wanted for causing a public disturbance while intoxicated. He was last seen knocking over market stalls and getting into fights with vendors, then vanishing into the woods. Heth is a large, stocky man, with dark curly hair, a bushy beard, and a hammer tattoo on his forearm. Last spotted heading north toward the Larch Path. Considered non-violent unless heavily intoxicated.
WANTED by the Lord’s Alliance: The half-elf known as Windharrow, formerly Harald Grayspear, is wanted for multiple crimes throughout the region. He stands accused of banditry and theft, including numerous acts of highway robbery targeting traveling merchants and caravans. Windharrow is also charged with deception and fraud, using his charisma and charm to manipulate officials and merchants for personal gain, resulting in significant financial losses.
In addition to these crimes, Windharrow has recruited known criminals into his service, further endangering lives and perpetuating illegal activities. His actions have directly undermined the peace and order maintained by the Lord’s Alliance.
Windharrow is considered highly dangerous, known for his quick wit, mastery of disguise, and exceptional skill in combat. He is also a capable spellcaster and should be approached with extreme caution. A reward of 750 gold pieces is offered for his capture, dead or alive.
WANTED By Order of House Belabranta – Savra Belabranta: House Belabranta of Waterdeep is seeking help to locate and safely return Savra Belabranta, a 25-year-old noblewoman who has fallen under the influence of the Feathergale Knights, a dangerous air cult. Savra is believed to have been brainwashed and may be acting against her true nature. We are also seeking information on a trusted family servant who went missing while searching for her near Feathergale Spire.
A reward of 500 platinum pieces (pp) is offered for Savra’s safe return, breaking the cult’s hold on her, and rescuing the family retainer. Savra is a skilled knight, and caution is advised when approaching her, as she may be under heavy guard. Contact House Belabranta in Waterdeep with any leads or assistance.
The names stirred memories in both Vladimir and Fwoosh. Savra had been the knight who had greeted them at Feathergale Spire, showing them around with an air of politeness that now seemed suspect. Windharrow had been the ragged bard leading a group of poor musicians, though his disheveled appearance had masked the danger he posed. The group exchanged glances, realizing that their previous encounters might have more significance than they had first thought. The promise of such large rewards made them reconsider their plans for the future, especially when it came to the Feathergale Knights.
Fwoosh soon parted from the group to return to the Blackbutter Inn, while the remaining members made their way to the quarry where the entrance to the underground dwarven temple was located. As they approached, the air smelled of stone and dust, and the sound of chisels working on rock could be heard echoing from within. Four dwarven soldiers stood guard at the entrance, their heavy armor gleaming in the late morning sun. Upon seeing the group approach, the soldiers broke into wide grins, recognizing the adventurers who had rescued them from the Ghoul Queen’s clutches.
The dwarves greeted the group warmly, their deep voices booming with gratitude. After a few minutes of friendly conversation, one of the guards departed to inform Banmin of their arrival. Inside the temple, the air was cool and damp, the smell of freshly hewn stone and old earth filling their lungs. Banmin led them to a large, half-renovated chamber that echoed with the sounds of construction. He listened intently as the group recounted their experiences in Bargewright and Womford, nodding thoughtfully at the mention of cultists but frowning when the topic of the pirate base came up.
Banmin Glehuruhr
Vladimir voiced his concerns that the pirate base they had cleared months ago might have been reoccupied by cultists. Banmin, ever pragmatic, expressed his worries about the Feathergale Knights, who had been rumored to be assisting Summit Hall in fending off orc incursions. If the knights were indeed allied with the air cult, as the party suspected, it could mean trouble for the entire valley. Banmin urged the group to warn the paladins at Summit Hall, who might unknowingly be working alongside cultists.
After the serious discussion, Banmin lightened the mood by sharing details about the upcoming Midsummer Faire. The dwarves were planning to sponsor several contests, including ale drinking, axe throwing, and a slapping contest where the last dwarf standing would be the victor. Banmin’s eyes gleamed with pride as he spoke of the dwarves’ plans to support the town’s festivities, and the conversation shifted to Vladimir’s sister, Olga. Banmin spoke highly of her, recounting how much the dwarves respected her fiery spirit and skill in combat. Vladimir, though visibly uncomfortable with the praise, agreed that she was a force to be reckoned with, though he referred to her as a “little spitfire.”
By the time they returned to the Blackbutter Inn, the sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over the town. The group gathered around a table, recounting the day’s events to ISAC and the others. It was during this conversation that Seraphina learned something surprising—ISAC was not human. His Disguise Self spell had worn off while he had been working on scrolls, revealing his true form. Seraphina’s eyes widened in surprise, but her inquisitive nature soon took over, and she asked no questions for now, choosing to observe quietly.
As night fell and the town grew quiet, the group retired to their rooms. However, Fwoosh had other plans. As the rest of the inn fell into a peaceful slumber, Fwoosh slipped out into the night, his steps silent as he made his way through the shadowed streets to meet Jepos. The Zhentarim operative greeted him with a grin, clearly pleased with the group’s efforts in Bargewright. Jepos handed Fwoosh a pouch filled with coins, as well as something extra—an item of personal value to aid the rogue in future endeavors.
Jepos Copperhand
Jepos shared some news, informing Fwoosh that Dancer would not be returning for many months, if at all. Dancer still had responsibilities elsewhere, but Aldon Bargewright had made progress in Womford. A fire cultist’s safehouse had been uncovered, and a journal had been found and sent along to the party. Jepos then handed over another pouch of coins after Fwoosh fenced a collection of jewels and trinkets the party had gathered. Whisper, another Zhentarim agent, had also reported success in collapsing much of the underground complex in Womford, ensuring that the cult’s operations there were effectively dismantled.
With this new information, Fwoosh returned to the inn, slipping back into the shadows of his room without waking anyone. The night grew still once more, leaving only the faintest whisper of the wind outside as the group slept, unaware of the dealings that had taken place in the moonlit streets.
Journal Pages One and Two
Journal Pages Three and Four
Journal Pages Five and Six
Journal Pages Seven and Eight
Journal Pages Nine and Ten
Journal Page 11
26th of Flamerule of the year 1492
The day began much like the last, with the group gathering downstairs at the Blackbutter Inn for breakfast. Yllanys, true to form, had risen before the others. When the rest of the party arrived in the common room, they found him seated at the same table as before, his breakfast already finished. A small plate in front of him bore only a few scattered crumbs, remnants of what was most likely the second half of his croissant from the previous morning. Beside it, a half-filled glass of water sat untouched since his last sip. The rest of the group barely registered Yllanys’ strange eating habits at this point, accustomed as they were to his slow, methodical ways. Instead, they turned their attention to their own needs, ordering full breakfasts consisting of hearty fare—steaming sausages, eggs, thick slices of bread, and warm pastries. The smell of food filled the room, and the clatter of plates and mugs created a comforting backdrop for their quiet conversation.
Once they had eaten, the group retired to the four-person room upstairs, where Fwoosh pulled out a small pouch and handed it over to ISAC. The pouch contained the coins Jepos had given Fwoosh during his secret late-night meeting, the clinking of the gold pieces muffled slightly by the leather. ISAC took the pouch and, with his usual efficiency, began dividing the wealth into equal shares for everyone in the group. The sound of coins sliding across the wooden table filled the room as each member received their share of the spoils. It was a comforting ritual, a reminder that despite the challenges they faced, their efforts had tangible rewards.
As the coins were distributed, Fwoosh shared the news from Jepos. He informed the group that Dancer would not be returning anytime soon, if at all, and that they would have to carry on without him. The absence of Dancer weighed on them all, but they knew they had no choice but to move forward. Fwoosh then produced a journal that Dancer had managed to send to the group—an artifact that could potentially hold valuable clues about the fire cultists. The cover of the journal was worn, the leather soft from years of handling, and its pages were yellowed with age. It smelled faintly of smoke and ash, a testament to its dangerous origins. Fwoosh placed it on the table, and the group silently acknowledged the importance of its contents. He also shared the good news that the underground entrance to Warehouse #3 had been taken care of ensuring that the cultists’ operations in Womford had been disrupted.
With the business of dividing the loot and sharing news complete, ISAC and Seraphina made their way to Dhelosk at the front desk. Dhelosk, ever the studious figure, greeted them with a nod, his robes sweeping across the floor as he moved to fetch the scroll ISAC had previously purchased. ISAC handed over some additional coins, requesting Dhelosk’s assistance in casting the spell from the scroll. ISAC and Seraphina turned their attention to the shop’s magical wares, browsing the selection of enchanted items on display. As usual, there were intriguing options—rings that shimmered with hidden power, cloaks that seemed to ripple like water in the air—but the prices were steep, far beyond what they could comfortably afford. Nonetheless, the trip was not without its value, and the two left with a deeper understanding of what could be obtained if they continued to grow their wealth.
Dhelosk Quelbeard
Satisfied with their morning’s work, ISAC and Seraphina made their way back to the group. When they rejoined the rest of the group at their table, the atmosphere was relaxed but tinged with the awareness of what still lay ahead. There were still cultists to deal with, mysterious forces to uncover, and a valley teetering on the edge of destruction.
The group discussed their next steps briefly. The last several day’s events had been small but significant—a quiet moment of rest and preparation before the storm that they all knew was coming. The promise of future challenges weighed heavily on their minds, but for now, they were content to take stock of their resources and plan their next move carefully.
And this is where the session ended.
