Session Wrap Ups
In reply to RedBeard (msg # 1):
Action Report - 7 February 2019
The door to Trollskull Manor opened slowly, creaking just slightly on its hinges. Standing before the party was Saradas Boulderhill, a small, patrician looking Halfling clad in finely made but dated clothing. His silvery hair was combed back from his face and his lively eyes were flecked with silver.
“Gentlemen! Thank you so much for visiting me and….is that my journal? Splendid,” exclaimed the Halfling as his eyes flashed with curiosity, “What did you think of the contents? Interesting stuff right?”
“We wouldn’t know, Master Halfling, we did not open the journal,” said Rolf as he passed the small book to Saradas, “Didn’t seem proper.”
Boulderhill accepted the book from Rolf and regarded the party for a moment, his fingers drumming slowly on the spine of the book.
“Interesting…” the small man muttered to himself. “Oh! My goodness, I forget my manners! Please gentlemen, do come in!”
Boulderhill stepped back from the door and lead the party through several rooms of his home. The rooms they passed through looked more like museum galleries than one would have expected for a house, even in this part of Waterdeep. The Halfling gazed at his collection as he walked through the rooms but said nothing. Eventually the grouped was ushered into a small, comfortably appointed sitting room that was chillier than it should be for the fire crackling in the large fireplace.
“Please sit,” the Halfling motioned to several chairs and couches arrayed around the room. “Thank you again for returning journal…”
“Unopened” came a voice from one of the party members.
“Unopened indeed,” replied Saradas. “And that fact is key in the discussion we’re now having. You have proven yourselves to be honorable and capable men. I hadn’t expected to see this again so quickly,” he tapped the journal on his side table.
“I am a collector of all things arcane. Fortunately, we live above one of the largest nodes of arcane energy in all of Faerun - the dungeon of Undermountain. Undermountain is the creation of a wizard named Hallaster Blackcloak and it has existed beneath this city for as long as this city has itself existed and perhaps even longer. Hallaster’s motives are obscure and most think him insane but I am not entirely convinced of this,” the Halfling paused, eyeing the group.
“I cannot be certain but I think that flatly arguing Halaster is insane is missing some greater point.” Boulderhill regarded the group, his eyes flickering in the firelight.
“Regardless, the men who stole this journal from me are almost certainly in the employ of the Beholder crime lord Xanathar,” Boulderhill’s voice grew somehow heavier as he mentioned Xanathar. “The foul creature probably means to seize Undermountain and plunder it for himself!”
“Fortunately or unfortunately, Xanathar has met resistance from members of the Black Network, who have recently arrived in Waterdeep,” said the Halfling. “They seem to be locked in a struggle for control of criminal enterprise within the city. Something, frankly, I care little about - we have a very capable and competent City Watch and Guard and they will handle this matter.” Ham nodded in appreciation at this comment.
“But I digress. I would like very much for your assistance in exploring and reclaiming the treasures locked away below our feet. It would be criminal were we to stand by and allow the likes of Xanathar to spirit them away.”
The party looked at one another, relieved to be finally coming to the heart of the matter.
“So it’s a treasure delve then?” Said Finn.
“Well that’s a rather base description of what I’m proposing,” said Saradas with a chuckle, “but yes. I would like you to go into Undermountain and recover what you can, either items or information - both are of equal value to me. I am willing to sponsor such an effort.”
“Sponsorship…” said Ham. “What does that entail?”
“Arms, armor, equipment and supplies,” said Boulderhill, warming to the negotiation.
“That’s it?” Said Alihazar.
“What else do you gentlemen require,” asked the Halfling.
A look passed amongst the party and Dan Golf spoke up, “If you’d give a moment to discuss, Master Halfling?”
“Oh my certainly,” said Saradas. “Discuss amongst yourselves. I will see to some refreshments.”
With the Halfling gone, the party put their heads together and reached agreement. When Saradas came back, Rolf spoke.
“Master Halfling, we will accept your offer with the following conditions. We are each to be paid a retainer of 100 gold up front, we have right of first refusal on magical items discovered in the dungeon, we will need to be paid a commission for each returned item, and we require a base of operations here in Waterdeep.”
“Not a small list of additional conditions, good sir,” remarked Saradas as he set a large platter with drinks and small snacks in front of the party. “I will need to make some arrangements but I think we have terms.”
Placing out his small hand, the Halfling asked “Are we agreed?”
“We are agreed,” replied Rolf, returning the handshake.
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Their preparations complete, the party assembled at The Yawning Portal. Wagers were placed on their success and a final round of drinks was purchased.
Finally, it was time to descend. Durnan, the proprietor, ordered the chain hoist unslung and the platform attached. Before long, the lift swung gently in the open air of the pit, waiting for its occupants.
Durnan, who never used two words when one would do, grasped each man’s hand in turn and said “Luck.”
The party climbed into the lift and Durnan gave the signal to release the winch. As the lift dropped below the lip of the shaft, Durnan caught Finn’s eye and winked.
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As the party descended, the light and warmth from the the main room of the Yawning Portal faded. Walls of the shaft were crafted of old stone, worn with time and covered with moss. There were clear hand-holds used by adventurers unwilling to pay to use the chain hoist or in a hurry to get away from something down below.
After several minutes the hoist clunked down in a dimly lit room with a sand-covered floor and battered shields hanging from the walls. The party quickly scouted the room but found nothing of interest except for an exit in the southwest corner.
“Tactical column gents, noise discipline. Ham, you want rear guard?” Asked Rolf.
The burly former Guardsman nodded and trotted to the back of the group.
“Everyone ready?” asked Finn. The cleric and then pointed at the Half-Elf rogue “Alright Ali, take us out.”
The group moved out of the shaft room quietly, the light of the tavern fading quickly as they rounded a corner. Dangolf whispered quietly and suddenly warm light spread from the end of his staff, lighting the party’s way.
Around several corners and down a short hallway the group emerged into a wide corridor whose far end disappeared into the gloom ahead of them. Ali motioned for the party to hold position and scouted ahead, a quiet shadow moving quickly along the wall.
Ali paused several paces into the hall, unnerved by the grotesque carvings that lined the walls. Imagines of beings so foul they tugged at the threads of one’s sanity were set in bas relief along the corridor. Hideous creatures, some of which Ali had heard of as boogey men in tales meant to frighten children, but none which he had ever encountered in his travels. Pausing to examine one of the carvings he noticed nothing out of the ordinary about the stonework.
Ali motioned to Rolf, indicating the party could move up to his location.
“What the fuck are these things,” Ham cursed softly as he moved up.
“Demons,” Zumfir replied simply. Knowledge acquired during his pursuit of all things monstrous fueling his conviction.
Ali motioned for silence and pointed to the floor several paces ahead of the group. Just visible in the light from Dangolf’s staff was the skeleton of a Kenku, arrayed almost intentionally. One of its little bird-like arms pointed at a carving several down from where the party stood.
Ali again moved forward and examine the carving, quickly determining that it was a door. He discovered a latch concealed as one of the demon’s claws. He detected no traps and signaled the group regarding his discovery.
After a quick discussion, the party moved back and Ali triggered the latch with his Mage Hand. The door swung inwards to reveal a small alcove with a rough hewn passage leading down from the room. The stench of sewage spilled from the room, gagging the party.
“Nope, that looks like a place where oozes and other shit lives. Plus is stinks,” said Ham. Ali backed a little further from the door, hoping nobody would notice.
“Yeah, fuck that. Let’s close it up and spike the door,” said Rolf, the mercenary’s nose wrinkling in disgust.
As the group worked on the door, the sound of foot steps came from the large open space in front of them, heading south down a corridor. Falling quickly into formation, the group moved rapidly into a large room filled with columns. The room was empty, except for a large snake skeleton wrapped around one of the columns. The room had three exits in addition to one they had just come through.
The entrance to the south, where the foot steps had gone, opened to a large square hallway. The floor appeared well travelled. Next to the entrance, written in paint on the wall in Common were the words “Certain death this way!”
Following a brief discussion, the party formed up and moved down the long hallway, chasing after the mysterious footfalls. The hallway was pitch black and extended more than 100 feet before taking a series of sharp turns that ended in a collapsed rock face.
At the base of the cave-in a small tunnel, perhaps 5 feet wide, had been excavated from the fallen stone. Lying discarded on the stone were three rusty pick axes. In the corner, a dead goblin was slumped against the wall, its head caved in by a single blow from a large, blunt object.
“That little crawl space looks like a good place to get killed,” said the big mercenary. “Maybe we go back and check the other exits?”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” said Zumfir, the Ranger’s fingers drumming on his sword hilt as he contemplated the little tunnel.
Agreed, the group retraced their steps to the room of columns and explored the exit on the western wall. The hallway here was of equal size to the other but thick dust covered the floor, undisturbed by any recent footfalls. The walls were set with mirrors placed in alcoves.
“Trap,” Said Finn.
“Yup,” nodded Rolf in agreement. “Creepy, untravelled hallway lined with mirrors in a dungeon. Fucking trap.”
“North then?” Dangolf asked, shrugging his shoulders.
“North,” nodded Zumfir and Ham.
Up a flight stairs, a hallway jutted off to the east, ending in a closed doorway. The door itself was made of heavy wood, banded with iron, and set expertly into the doorframe. A quick check from Ali revealed the door to be unlocked and untrapped.
The group stacked up on the door and Ali opened it with his Mage Hand. The room beyond was large and rectangular. In the center, lit by dimly glowing purple light was a sword that had been rammed into an armor stand. Beneath the sword lay a skeletal hand, surrounded by a pool of what appeared to be dried blood.
As the party looked at the sword, Dangolf motioned everyone away.
“Don’t touch that thing,” said the wizard seriously, “it might be cursed.”
“I bet our sponsor would pay for it though,” said Ham.
The party put their heads together and decided to have Ali Mage Hand the sword out of the stand. The Rogue stood, holding the glowing sword in front of him.
“I have an idea…” said the Rogue as he carefully maneuvered the sword out of the room and down the hall back towards the mirrored hall.
The rest of the party followed, curious to see what would happen. As they watched the Rogue float the sword down the mirrored hallway, they unconsciously got ready for whatever might happen. Nothing did. The Rogue seemed a little disappointed but kept the sword floating in front of them as they moved back up the hallway to the north.
Taking a right at a T-intersection, the group came to a set of double doors. Faint light glowed from under the doors and the sounds of hushed voices could just be heard. Ali listened at the door and motioned back to the party that he thought there were at least several beings in the room beyond.
The party set themselves for a rapid assault, stacking up the two Fighters and the Cleric at the front, with the Hunter, Wizard, and Rogue coming in behind the heavily armored members of the party.
“Alright, let’s hit these fuckers hard and fast,” said Rolf.
With that, the party kicked in the door and rushed into the room beyond. They found themselves in a richly appointed space, rug on floors, torches in sconces along the wall. Arrayed around room were 9 pale humans, all dressed in robes. At the center of the room, a tall gaunt man, his face drawn and pale almost to the point of death, smiled broadly at the group as they came through the door.
“Gentlemen, I’m so glad that you could join us for dinner…” the gaunt man said as he spread his arms wide. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
As the gaunt man spoke, the other 9 creatures fanned out, slowly moving to surround the party.
“Vampires!” Shouted the mercenary. “Defensive line.”
“I count 9 thralls,” Dangolf called out.
As the front line of the group dropped and set a defensive line, Zumfir notched an arrow and watched the gaunt creature at the center of the room. With their defensive position set, Zumfir nodded to the rest of the party, quickly popped up from behind the fighters and the cleric, and loosed his arrow.
Chaos erupted in the room as the arrow thudded home.
“What the fuck?!” Shouted the gaunt man. “You shot me with an arrow you dick! Seriously? Who does that?”
The group looked at each other in confusion as the man continued to shout.
“This really hurts, I think it’s in the bone,” the man cried, pain in his voice. His companions began to crowd around him, checking to see if he was alright.
Rolf, rage in his eyes, rose from the group’s defensive line and stalked towards the man with the arrow in his shoulder.
“Start talking,” growled the angry mercenary. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing down here.”
“We’re actors man,” the man said. “We have a side hustle down here rolling drunks and wannabe adventures who come down from The Yawning Portal.”
“Actors?” Said Ham as he walked up. “Dude, you realize this is dungeon right?”
“Um, duh,” quipped the man. “Why do you think we’re down here dressed like vampires?”
“Hey,” growled Rolf, “don’t get cheeky you little shit. We could have killed all of you and we still might.”
Finn, with a resigned look on his face, shouldered his way past the angry Fighters and unceremoniously yanked the arrow out of the actor’s shoulder.
“Oww!!” The man howled.
“Can it,” replied the Cleric as he wove magical energy to heal the wound, “you’ll live.”
The man nodded in gratitude to the Cleric and rolled his shoulder to test the joint.
“That’s gonna smart when it gets cold,” he said sullenly, eyeing the Ranger with resentment.
“Shut up and hand over all your treasure. Now,” said Rolf. “And this, whatever the fuck this is, is done. Pack up your shit and get out of here.”
“Just a second,” said the lead actor, “you can have our money, no problem. But this is actually pretty profitable for us. Maybe we can reach a deal?”
The group left the actors to themselves and walked a short distance away. After some discussion, they agreed to let the actors continue their operation under their patronage.
“Alright,” said Rolf. “Here’s how this works. 75% of your take is ours, to be delivered weekly to Trollskull Manor. If we think you’re cheating us, we come back here and finish the job.”
“Jeez man, that’s pretty steep,” replied the lead actor. “We have a deal but you need to do something for us. The rest of our group is just up beyond those doors but they’ve all gone a little too far with the vampire thing. They have some sort of monster that wandered up from the dungeon below and I think they’re actually drinking people’s blood. It’s full on whacko. Take care of them for us and we’re agreed.”
“What does this monster look like,” asked the Ranger.
“Fucked up. Like a bunch of corpses stuck together but walking,” the lead actor shuddered as he spoke.
“Flesh golem,” nodded Zumfir. “Those things can be nasty.”
“Now we’re talking,” said Rolf as he rolled his shoulders. “Fine, we’ll take care of this thing but you better not be lying or we’re coming back here. Now, tell us what you know about this part of the dungeon…”
The actor raised his hands in surrender.
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Leaving the acting troupe behind, the group made their way north through another hallway. Again, it ended at a set of double doors with light glowing faintly beneath them. The party get into formation and barged into the room.
The large space was empty, save for a throne built from bleached bones. Several doorways led from the room, including one at the north end that had been barricaded with a pile of furniture and other items.
The party cautiously approached a door on the far wall, and Ali could hear voices on the other side when he placed his ear to it. He motioned to the group that the room beyond was occupied.
Moving quickly and quietly the group prepared to rush the room. As the door was kicked in, the room beyond was revealed to be a small room, furnished with chairs, a small table, and bedrolls. The men in the room were caught completely off guard, some half in vampire costume, others playing cards at the small table.
One fainted as the heavily armed party came crashing into the room.
“You guys don’t look like death cultists,” said Finn.
“What? We’re actors! Who told you we were death cultists? I bet it was that dick in the other group,” said one of the men, his face half covered in white makeup.
“Listen up creampuff,” shouted Rolf with barely contained rage, his swords in hand, “sit down, shut up, and tell us what the hell is going on around here.”
The men, sufficiently cowed, explained the rift between the two groups of actors and the arrival of the Flesh Golem, which had seemed to accept their mistress as its master.
“That thing is so gross,” one of the other actors said. “She keeps its in her room next to the throne.”
Leaving the actors behind, the group made their way to the door beside the throne. As they approached the door, the Flesh Golem burst out and began to attack the party. But the party had been expecting to encounter exactly such a creature and they were ready.
Savage blows rained down on the Golem, quickly grinding it down.
With the Golem dead, the party arrayed themselves around the now open door.
“Alright, first thing first - throw out your treasure,” called Ham.
A bag of coins landed on the ground several feet from the door.
“Good,” called the Guardsman in a voice used to be obeyed, “now step out here where we can see you. Hands out. If you make a move, you die.”
A young woman in a vampire costume stepped from the darkened room and stood before the group. She looked around for the Golem and her relief at seeing it dead on the ground was clearly visible.
“Thank you! That thing wandered up here some days ago and started following me around. Seemed to think I was it’s master. It wouldn’t leave me alone!”
The party said nothing, but traded glances.
The woman recovered her composure and looked at the men in front of her with a haughty glance.
“And who might you gentlemen be?” She inquired, looking from face to face.
“Nope, not how this plays out lady,” said Ham. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Certainly,” replied the woman, “now if you’re here you’ve certainly met my former compatriots. I assure you, I can cut a better deal than they did…”
Following some negotiations and an uncomfortable meeting to reunite the two groups of actors, the party surveyed their new domain. A small troupe of fairly talented actors, a profitable side hustle paying them 90%, and a lair with secret access to Waterdeep. Not bad for a couple hours work.
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The party resolved to continue their explorations. Removing the barricade from the north end of the throne room they found themselves in a large hallway filled with statues. The statues were covered in webbing.
Fearing giant spiders, the party confirmed and agreed that Dangolf should light the web on fire to chase out any spiders that might be lurking near the ceiling.
The wizard whispered a word and flame streaked towards the ceiling, setting the giant webs ablaze. They party waited anxiously as the flames rolled along, incinerating all the web in the hallway. No spiders emerged.
As the party crept down the hallway they came upon giant spider corpses, all peppered with arrows and long dead.
A side hallway led to a small room which contained a weathered copper throne, green with age. In the corner, a similarly aged copper helm lay discarded, covered in dust. Ali cautiously picked up the helm, and after some discussion, moved it over the throne. This triggered a hidden mechanism in the ceiling which opened and dropped a tube onto the seat of the throne. After inspecting it for traps and magical energy, Dangolf opened the tube to discover a Wand of Secrets.