Go to Part 1

RETURN TO THE SEVEN MASKS THEATER

They didn’t have a lot of time to do everything they suddenly needed to take care of before infiltrating Xanathar’s that night, so they grabbed a carriage and rode to the Seven Masks Theater.

Arriving at the theater, they found it under guard. Suspicious looking thugs were watching the front door from across the street, and a couple more were loitering around the side entrance. The thugs looked human, but… They shrugged and headed down the alley, passing by posters still advertising performances of Sapphiria’s Booty and identifying themselves to the thugs. “We’re here to meet with Rongquan. Is he in?”

The thugs knocked on the side entrance. A moment later Rongquan cracked open the door and peeked out. He broke into a big grin. “Big five!”

The Trollskulls, recognizing the anti-doppelganger code they had set up with him, answered with smiles of their own as they were ushered into his office.

“How can I help you?” Rongquan asked. “Can I get you a drink?”

“That’s all right,” Kittisoth demurred. “What’s with all the guys outside?”

Rongquan, having grabbed a drink of his own, flirtatiously laid his hand over Kittisoth’s own. Kittisoth resisted the urge to roll her eyes out of her head… mostly. “To tell you the truth… it’s a cover story!”

“Really?!” Kittisoth said with faux adulation and naivete. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not really sure,” Rongquan said. “Some very secretive business with the investors. I’m not even allowed to leave my office!”

“Could we speak with the investors?” Kittisoth said, batting her eyes. (The others barely concealed their laughter.)

“Well… I suppose!” Rongquan knocked on the inner door of his office and spoke with some people on the other side. A few minutes later another knock came, Rongquan excused himself, and a dark elf entered. They were surprised to see it wasn’t Jarlaxle.

“Is Mr. J here?” Theren asked.

“No,” the dark elf said. “No he’s not.” He flopped down into a chair and kicked his boots up onto Rongquan’s desk. “Elves,” he muttered. “It’s always elves…”

Theren frowned. “You are an elf.”

“Don’t insult me,” the dark elf said.

“We need to speak with him,” Edana said.

“He has plans this evening,” the dark elf said. “But you could leave a message for him.”

“Where are his plans taking him this evening?”

“If I told you that, I don’t think ‘Mr. J’ would be very happy with me.”

“Well, Mister… What was your name?” Pashar asked.

“Soluun.”

“Well, Mister Soluun, give Fel’Rekt our best, and when you hear back from Mr. J, if you could be so kind as to—”

“If you have a message, I’ll take it,” Soluun said bluntly. “And then get out.”

Kittisoth fumed. “Excuse me? Do you have better things to do? Because—”

Edana restrained her. “Just let him know that we have a concern. About a neighborhood matter.”

“All right,” Soluun said. “I’ll pass it along.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Kora said. “We’re here about the kid.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Edana said. “And I’m sure that if any harm comes to that kid, it will not be in Mr. J’s best interests.”

“I don’t know who this kid is,” Soluun said. “But I’m sure he’s somewhere safe.” He gave a little smile… and Edana was certain that he kid was here, in the theater somewhere.

But there didn’t seem to be anything they could do about it. They’d played their little dance, but now the music was coming to an end.  They stalked out of the office and back to their carriage.

THE HARPER CACHE

It wasn’t hard to identify the warehouse Dain had been talking about. It was, in fact, backed directly against Yellowspire Tower. Approaching it from the court north of Turnback Court, they found that its windows were boarded up and there was a big padlock on the front door that Edana made quick work of.

The interior of the warehouse was one big space, with various stacks of crates and boxes here and there. Everything had a thick layer of dust on it. The place was clearly ill-used.

“Everyone take your Harper pins off,” Kora said. She slipped their pins into a bag of holding, removing them from this plane of existence, and then cast locate object and zeroed in on a Harper pin underneath a nearby crate.

With a shrug, Kittisoth lifted the crate out of the way, revealing a trap door with a heavy iron pull ring. Hauling the trap door open revealed stairs down to a small basement room. Kora redistributed their Harper pins as they went down the stairs.

At the bottom, they found an empty room. It only took Edana a few moments, however, to find an illusory patch of the wall concealing a small indentation. Following a hunch, she pressed her Harper pin into the indentation: The wall slid back silently, revealing the supply cache. It was packed with useful stuff. There was a rack of swords, shelves filled with iron rations, a small box of Harper pins, several chains shirts, a number of potions, and fourteen bags, each containing a hundred gold dragons.

They rapidly emptied all of it into a bag of holding and reversed their tracks, replacing the crate and the padlock on the front door as they left.

Now they were out of time. They needed to head to the fights.

THE XANATHAR RAID

It was back to the beginning. They returned to the warehouse where Floon and Renaer had been held by the Zhentarim and slipped through the same sewer grate they had dropped through so many weeks (and what seemed like a lifetime) ago.

The Xanatharians had apparently destroyed the chalk marks which had guided them originally, but Theren remembered the path they had taken through the sewers and led them back to the hideout. As he drew near, he motioned the others to silence and slid up towards the intersection.

He knew there were four arrow slits looking out over this intersection from the last time they’d been here. Observing them carefully now, he ascertained that there were two goblins behind each. He waved Edana up and she cast a spell to put them to sleep.

They hugged the wall of the sewer (metaphorically speaking) and came up to the lair’s secret door. Theren slipped through it first. As he approached the landing leading down into to the chamber with the teleportation totem, however, he heard the distinctive buzz-humming of stirge wings ahead.

Peeking around the corner, he saw a goblin leaning up against the teleportation totem with a pair of stirges buzzing around his head. The goblin absentmindedly reached up and patted one of the stirges affectionately on the head.

Stepping out into landing, Theren put an arrow through the goblin’s skull, sending a spray of blood across the stone floor. The stirges immediately swooped down into the pool and began slurping up the blood, but two more arrows left them dead in the midst of their “feast.”

Edana slid across the landing and through another door into the guard chamber where the other goblins were still snoring. She efficiently slit their throats and then returned to the others, who had gathered around the totem. They clasped each others’ arms and Edana slid the teleportal key into the totem. She twisted the key and…

…they were elsewhere.

They had appeared standing in the middle of a large, fifty-foot long chamber with vaulted ceilings. They were standing between four large stone pillars that ran from the floor to the ceiling. The key was inside a depression in one of the pillars, one of several identical depressions which ran around the circumference of that pillar and the others.

There were several halls and a stairway leading out of the chamber. At the far end of the hall directly in front of them they could see two burly men wearing studded leather armor, thankfully facing away from them and looking out into a crowded hallway. The sounds of a party washed over them — people talking, glassware clinking, merry laughter.

Edana and Theren quickly shoved the others behind one of the pillars, where the guards couldn’t see them. Edana peeked out. They hadn’t been noticed.

Kora took the moment to cast locate object, searching the last of the Eyes. She quickly had a vector: It was on the same level they were, roughly in the direction of the guards (“Of course,” Kittisoth said), but somewhat off to the left.

“Which way do we go?”

They’d prefer not to have to try to sneak past the guards. The staircase, even though it led down, was roughly in the right direction. “There might a way down and around,” Edana suggested. “So that we could come up behind or even right on top of the Eye.”

The others agreed and they slipped over to and down the stairs, which curved down to a T-intersection. Edana peeked around the corner: Thirty feet to her left was a door. Fifty feet to her right was another T-intersection. It was a maze down here. And, worse yet, between her and the other T-intersection, hanging down from the ceiling, was a spectral eyestalk.

“I don’t like that,” she muttered and headed back to the others.

Neither Kora nor Pashar had any idea what the ghostly eyestalk might be. “If it’s magic, I could dispel it,” Kora suggested. “But that might just alert Xanathar that we’re down here.”

“What about an illusion?” Theren suggested. “Make it look like the hallway is empty?”

Edana agreed and raised the illusion. Cloaked by the vision of the “empty” hallway, she slipped over to the door at the end of the hall. From the far side of the door she could hear metal clashing against metal… and the smell of something cooking. She came back to the others. “Do you think we can slip through the kitchens?”

“This hall isn’t going the right way,” Theren said. “We’ve gotten twisted around coming down the stairs. I think we should go back up to the main level?”

The others agreed and headed back up the stairs, re-entering the teleportation chamber.

They spread out to check the other hallways, to see if they could figure out a better way of circling around the guards. Unfortunately, the other hallways all went in basically exactly the wrong direction. As they considered their options, however, the sounds of several people shouting came from the direction of the party. Theren darted over to one of the pillars and glanced out. The two guards had turned towards the raised voices… and they were moving away!

“Let’s do it!” Kittisoth declared and stepped forward. But Theren grabbed her and yanked her back behind the pillar. Just moments after the guards vacated their post, three figures — looking back over their shoulders towards the party — had rounded the corner into the hall and were heading their way.

The figures headed towards the stairs. Theren slid to the other side of the pillar and tracked them. As they reached the top of the stairs, a beam of light caught them and he could see their faces plainly: They were drow.

“Jarlaxle’s men,” Kittisoth murmured.

The drow disappeared down the stairs. The Trollskulls darted out, down the hallway the drow had just left, and into the party.

The party filled a grand promenade nearly thirty feet across that curved out of sight to both the right and left. Down the middle of the hall were pillars carved with eyes which seemed to track those who passed nearby. At the moment, those eyes were darting back and forth, as the entire hall was filled with an eclectic, cosmopolitan crowd of ritzy elites rubbing shoulders with scarred gangsters while servants bearing trays of food and drink passed between them.

Off to their left they could still hear the raised voices and confusion of whatever altercation had distracted the guards. Off to their right, they could see other hallways with guards posted on them. Directly ahead, however, a ten-foot-wide circular door led to a smaller passage. The party spilled down this hall and into a larger chamber beyond: That was more or less the direction Kora was detecting the Eye from.

They slid through the crowd. No one seemed to give them a second glance as they passed through the stone door and came to the top of a short flight of stairs led down to the floor of a forty-foot-high dome that was at least eighty feet across. The floor was tiled in black marble, inset with in gold with the circle-and-eyestalk sigil of Xanathar. Jutting from the ceiling was bell-shaped protuberance. On the far side of the dome, directly across from them, an identical set of stairs led up to another open, circular door, this one with two guards flanking it. Off to their left, directly in line with Kora’s vector to the Eye, was another circular door — this one shut, but also with two guards. Small clusters of people were happily chatting here and there throughout the dome.

They walked across the room. Kora pulled out the rod of rulership they had taken from Victoro Cassalanter when they arrested him and discreetly waved it in the direction of the guards. “Would you be so kind as to let me and my friends in?”

The guards came to sharp attention. “Yes, sir!”

They pushed open the stone slab of the door and the Trollskulls strode through it. As they went, Kittisoth glanced nervously over her shoulder to see if anyone was paying undue attention to the exchange. No one was. But at just that moment Jarlaxle walked into the dome, accompanied by two men.

Kittisoth cursed and darted in after the others. It didn’t look like Jarlaxle had noticed them, though. Instead, he seemed to be focusing his attention on the two guards on the other side of the room, albeit while attempting to disguise his interest.

The Trollskulls found themselves in Xanathar’s sanctum. The room was magically lit with a bluish light. Luminous violet particles drifted through the air like mist. A twenty-foot-wide fishbowl dominated the center of the room. Filled with water it also contained a small coral reef, a miniature shipwreck, and a sunken treasure chest. On a small table next to this huge fishbowl they saw a smaller fishbowl, this one containing a single goldfish: Sylgar. On one wall of the room hung a huge mirror with the word XOBLOB carved into its silver frame. In a small chamber beyond an arch in the other wall of the room they could see a huge device of twisted crystal.

“Where is it?” Edana asked.

“There,” Kora said, pointing at the large fishbowl. “In the goddamn treasure chest.”

Kittisoth had fetched up just inside the door and was watching the dome outside. Several Xanatharian guards came rushing out of the door on the far side of the dome — the one Jarlaxle was still keeping one eye constantly fixed on. These guards spoke with a quick but quiet urgency to the two guards stationed there, and then all of the guards there rushed back through the door. No one else in the room seemed to take any note of this, but Jarlaxle, of course, immediately put his drink down and, with his men, beelined to and through the door.

Kittisoth stepped back from the door. “I’m not sure where Jarlaxle is going, but—”

Pashar suddenly dropped to his knees and began babbling incoherently in the Tongue of the Beholders… or at least what he thought was the Tongue of Beholders. It was really just nonsense.

“Dammit,” Edana cursed. “We need to get out of there. Maybe I could use mage hand to try to clear the treasure chest out? It’ll take me forever to sift through it, but I need to see the Eye before I can actually grab it telekinetically, though.”

“I’ll go in,” Kittisoth said. “I’ll just climb up on this table and try to– Wait. I can fly. Devil’s breath, I am so stressed out!” She leapt and flew and dived down to the chest.

Kora, meanwhile, used a quick spell to purge whatever poison had gripped Pashar’s mind.

“I’ve got it!” Kittisoth declared, splashing out of the top of the fishbowl.

Edana snatched it and thrust it into her bag of holding, removing it from the Material Plane.

“Go! Now!”

They walked out of the room. “Close the door, please,” Kora said to the guards. “And kindly escort us to the teleportation pillars?”

“Yes, sir!”

The guards stepped away from the door and took them across the dome, through the door, and into the promenade. The disturbance they had heard earlier had apparently come to an end and they could see that the guards had returned to their posts. But it didn’t matter: Kora’s guards escorted them right through the checkpoint and into the pillar room.

Behind them they heard a gruff voice call out: “Someone has broken into the master’s sanctum! Seal the lair! Find them immediately!”

But they were at the pillar. Edana thrust the teleportation key into the pillar.

They were out.

THE THREE EYES

They would have cheered, but as they reappeared in the sewer hideout, they found four goblins kneeling over the corpse of their dead friend. Reacting instinctively, the Trollskulls lashed out with their swords and cut them down before the goblins even realized they were among them. Then they rushed out through the secret door, back through the sewers, and emerged into the clean, exhilarating air of Waterdeep.

They’d done it!

Kora sent a magical message to the Blackstaff: “We have all of the Eyes and the Stone of Golorr. We believe that the Enigma is located beneath Brandath Crypts. Going there now.”

A moment later, Vajra sent a reply: “Good luck!”

They jumped in a carriage and headed across Waterdeep, racing the sunset to the City of the Dead. Passing through the gates before they were closed for the night, they made their way quickly to the Brandath Crypts, through Lady Alethea’s tomb, into the secret crypts, and down the long, ancient passage to the vault doors.

Standing there, atop the bronze sunburst and facing the dwarven-carved doors of adamantium, Edana drew out the blinded Stone of Golorr and placed it in the palm of her left hand. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the first of the Eyes into the Stone.

A warmth spread through the palm of her hand and she heard a voice murmur in the back of her mind: “Oh… I have returned.”

She took the second Eye and pushed it into its socket.

“You have the Eyes! Unblind me, mortal!”

The voice seemed stronger now.

“Will you give me the knowledge I seek?” Edana said aloud.

“Yes,” replied the voice. “That is my purpose.”

“Wait… what?” Pashar said. Instinctively, he reached out and touched Edana’s shoulder. The other’s, following his example, also reflexively reached out; not certain whether they were warding their friend, seeking to stop her, or volunteering to ride with her into whatever danger she might face. Only knowing that they needed to be together in this moment.

Edana pushed the third Eye in.

Go to Part 4

Go to Part 1

A QUIET MORNING AT TROLLSKULL MANOR

Returning to Trollskull Manor, they found the ghost Lif overseeing the unseen servant mopping the floor of the tavern.

“Welcome home,” Lif said.

“How was everything last night?” Theren asked.

“We had a good crowd,” Lif said. “Master Floon was here and inquired after Kittisoth.”

“The one with the great jawline?” Kitti asked. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Was his wife with him?” Edana asked.

“She was not,” Lif said. “And he simply said that he regretted missing Kittisoth.”

“Gross,” Kitti said. “I do not regret it. But thank you for telling me.”

They headed upstairs and checked in with the kids. Jenks was still asleep after staying up late working at Amara’s bakery, but Nat and Squiddly both excitedly regaled them with tales of their apprenticeships from the day before.

Theren actually headed over to Amara’s and found a well-sized crowd had gathered. She was just wrapping up a croissant for Fala Lefaliir, the herbalist from farther down Trollskull Alley, as he came in.

“How are things going?” Theren asked. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Amara declared cheerfully. “We’re having a wonderful morning! And I’ll have the order for Trollskull Manor over in the mid-afternoon.”

Fala thanked Theren for his part in making this happen. “We used to have to walk over to the far side of the High Road for a decent bakery. It’s wonderful to have one right here in the alley.” Theren spent a few minutes chatting with her about his plans to convert the alley into greenspace. The whole alley was excited about that, too.

TEAM RESEARCH

Meanwhile, Pashar and Kora headed out to research more details about the Vault. Kora suggested they go to the Font of Knowledge, a Temple of Oghma, since their queries seemed to be primarily religious in nature. They split up, with Pashar researching the Maroon Brotherhood and Kora focusing on Dumathoin.

Kora learned little she did not already know: Dumathoin was one of the first members of the Mordinsamman, the council of dwarven gods. He was known as the Keeper of the Secrets and was the patron of the shield dwarves. Locally, he had been worshipped by Clan Melairkyn, the dwarves who had first begun excavating under what was now Waterdeep. The earliest portions of Undermountain were, in fact, the Underhalls in which the Melairkyn had made their homes and wrought their mithril-craft. The age of the construction they had found beneath the Brandath Crypts certainly suggested that it was likely built by the Melairkyn.

Kora also dug into the strange association of the holy symbols of Dumathoin, Laduguer, and Ilsensine. Here, however, she found little: A few scraps of legends referred obliquely to even older legends, now lost to the earliest mists of time, that suggested that, in the first days of the Mordinsamman, there was a great and bitter rivalry between Dumathoin and Ilsensine. And another reference to Laduguer “as the once-brother of the Secret Keeper.” But these explained little.

As for Laduguer himself, he had once been a member of the Mordinsamman. But when Moradin discovered that Ladueguer had created the duergar, he was cast out from the council.

Pashar’s research was a little more rewarding: The Maroon Brotherhood were a secret brotherhood, primarily centered in Waterdeep and most likely founded during the 12^th century, although there are many sources suggesting that their true origins lay even earlier in history. In the early 14^th century, the Brotherhood became caught up in the Shadow Thief Affairs: Their members were implicated in an assassination attempt and the group was broken up by then-Open Lord Lhestyn.

Rumors persisted for the better part of a century, however, that the Brotherhood of them Maroon Pin had actually survived the purge and were secretly controlling Waterdeep (or even all of the newly formed Lords’ Alliance). Some even claimed that every single Masked Lord was, in fact, a member of the Brotherhood — or perhaps that the Brotherhood and the Masked Lords were one and the same.

The rituals of the brotherhood largely remained secret even after their precipitous fall — or perhaps because of it. It was clear, however, that they had accumulated any number of ancient rituals, symbols, and the like. These included their namesake alexandrite pins, dwarven compasses (often hidden within works of art, leading many to conclude that any piece of art with a dwarven compass in it must also contain encrypted messages or secret truths of the Brotherhood), a serpent’s forked tongue (representing the telling of secrets), scarab beetles, and the like.

Pashar found one particular example of this sort of thing. Beneath the picture of a broken arrow was an enigmatic phrase: “In beam of sun, strike dragon’s scale with mithril true upon the anvil sun.” Mid-14^th century scholars had exhausted great amounts of work trying to puzzle out what the imagery of “anvil sun” alluded to, with most concluding that it must refer cryptically to a site somewhere within Calimshan, possibly dating back to the lost empire of Coramshan. Debates raged endlessly about exactly which site (or sites) the passage might refer to, until the Maroon Brotherhood conspiracy scholarship slowly faded away by the end of the 14^th century.

SHOPPING AT THE MARKET

A little later in the morning, Edana, Theren, and Kitti headed to the Market. Edana tracked down Nardis, the fish seller Ott Steeltoes had told her about. Nardis was a merman. His entire stall was a pool of water. It took a fair bit of haggling, but Edana was able to convince him to sell her the Sylgar look-a-like he was holding for Ott.

As they walked way, Kitti leaned over. “What’s the plan here, exactly?”

“If we get caught,” Edana said. “We threaten the goldfish.”

“Just pretend it’s actually Sylgar?”

“Exactly.”

Theren, meanwhile, was scouring the stalls looking for a very particular item and, when it proved quite expensive, asked Edana and Kitti, who were just walking up, to pool their money with him to purchase it. Then they returned to Trollskull Manor.

They found Kora and Pashar waiting in their sitting room. Theren walked over to Kora. “Here,” he said. “These are goggles of the night. They’ll grant you darkvision. Just like the rest of us.”

Pashar gasped with glee and then applauded. Kora blushed. “Thank you.

“Now you have a soul,” Pashar said.

“What?”

“Oh, yes,” Pashar said. “Elves believe that only those with souls can see in the absence of light.”

It took them all a moment to notice the small smirk on Pashar’s face and realize he was joking. They collapsed in general merriment.

LETTERS OF THE MORNING

A letter arrived by messenger. It was written in silver ink upon black parchment:

“He’s so nice to us,” Theren said. “I don’t understand. We should buy him a thank you gift.”

“How can we shore up defenses here?” Kittisoth asked. “Especially when we’re gone. She’ll target us here. At home.”

“That makes sense,” Kora said.

“We could send her a letter,” Theren said. “’We’re letting all of our contacts know that doppelgangers have been appearing as us. And, just in case you’ve been had interactions with us, that that was not use.’”

They laughed. But quickly sobered once more.

“We need to hire someone to guard the house,” Edana said. “On short notice.”

“What about the Zhents?” Pashar suggested.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Kora said.

“I thought we told them to stay out of our neighborhood,” Theren objected.

“No, he’s right,” Kittisoth said. “I trust them more than just about anybody else we’ve met in this town.”

They quickly agreed that it was, in fact, their best option. As they were about to leave for Kolat Towers, however, there was another knock on the door. Another letter had arrived.

Kora sighed. Her Harper contact had the worst timing.

They needed to split up, but Kora didn’t want to go entirely by herself, so Theren agreed to accompany here, while Edana and Kittisoth headed to Kolat Towers to negotiate with the Zhents. Pashar would stay at Trollskull to watch over things there.

AN UNHAPPY HARPER

Kora and Theren found Dain in his usual spot at the far end of the narrow, dockside bar.

“Dain,” Kora said.

“I’m glad you could come,” Dain said. “We need a strike team with some muscle behind it that can strike fast, and I knew you already had some history with the Zhents. We have reports that the Zhents are moving into a place called Yellowspire on Turnback Court. I don’t think you’re aware of this, but directly behind the north side of Turnback Court — just beyond Yellowspire Tower — the Harpers have a supply cache. It has magic items and other resources. We believe that the Zhents are moving into Yellowspire in order to make a move on this cache.”

“You want us to attack the Zhents?” Kora said. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“We need them out of Yellowspire. However you can make that happen.”

“All right,” Theren said. “The good news is that the cache is perfectly safe. The Zhents don’t even know it’s there.”

Dain frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kora sighed. “You remember when I told you that we killed Manshoon? It was the Doom Raider Zhentarim who helped us do that. And in the process of attacking Manshoon, we discovered a magical conduit between Yellowspire and the Zhentarim headquarters. Our allies — the Doom Raiders — now control Yellowspire.”

“Legally,” Theren added. “They have a deed.”

Dain was stone-faced.

“If you’re still concerned, I’d suggest simply moving the cache,” Kora said. “

Dain shook his head. “It would be a security risk, no matter what short term alliances your may have made. And moving the cache would potentially expose it.”

Kora shook her head, too. “We can’t do it.”

Theren was exasperated. “You can’t just attack people in a building they legally own!”

“You’re new to the Harpers, stripling,” Dain said dismissively. “But we do what’s necessary, whether it’s legal or not.”

“I understand that,” Kora said. “But we can say with absolute certainty that they are not there for the cache! There’s no risk to it!”

“Fine,” Dain said. “If your team isn’t up to handling this, then we’ll find someone who can.”

“I don’t think you—”

“It’s fine,” Dain said acidly. “Leave.”

Kora shoved her stool back from the bar and left.

RETURN TO KOLAT TOWERS

Edana and Kittisoth arrived at Kolat Towers. From the edge of the energy field protecting the grounds, they waved to two Zhentarim guards standing at the front door of the towers. One of them jogged over and, with their pass-amulet, ushered them through.

While they waited near the door, one of the Zhents — a man they recognized from their raid on Manshoon’s inner sanctum —ran up the stairs. A few minutes later he returned with Ziraj, who greeted them with a friendly (and toothy) grin. After a few pleasantries, he led them back up the stairs.

“Yes,” he said, responding to a question from Edana. “We staged a raid into the upper levels of the tower yesterday. It looks like Manshoon didn’t go up there very much. We mostly found a bunch of crap belonging to the Kolat brothers who originally owned the tower and a few of their old wards.”

They came to a chamber that was in the middle of being refurbished into an office or operations center or something of the like for Tashlyn Yafeera. She looked up and smiled as they came in.

“It’s good to see you again,” Kittisoth said.

“And you!” Tashlyn said. “What brings you by?”

“We’re having some trouble at Trollskull,” Edana said. “We’ve upset a powerful figure and we have cause to believe they’re going to come in the next few days to attack us. We need someone to guard the manor — and our children — when we can’t be there.”

Tashlyn threw herself back into her chair. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We’d be happy to do you a favor. Istrid should be available and… Ziraj, you’re probably free to head over with a few of your boys tonight, too, right?’

Ziraj nodded.

“Of course, diverting that kind of manpower will slow down our efforts to hunt down the rest of Manshoon’s loyalists. What would help,” Tashlyn said suggestively, “is if we had a powerful spellcaster to call upon. But with Davil out of action… Well, you see the problem. Now, a little birdie on the street has told me—”

“Was it a raven?” Edana asked.

Kittisoth nodded sagely. “Or an owl?”

Tashlyn blinked. “It’s a metaphorical bird.” She took a second to regroup her thoughts. “Let’s say a voice on the wind. A voice on the wind told me that you’ve gotten friendly with the Blackstaff. And I’m sure that the Blackstaff would be able to free Davil.”

Edana thought it over. “I can’t speak on behalf of the Blackstaff. And I’m sure that the Blackstaff herself would want payment for such a service.”

“You can broker a meeting?” Tashlyn said. “That’s enough.” She clapped her hands and stood up. “It’s settled.”

They spent a few more minutes working out the details and then headed home.

THE THIRD LETTER

Back at Trollskull Manor, there was a knock on the door.

Pashar nervously answered it. It was another messenger. With another note. This one from the Gralhunds.

Pashar told the kids to stay in their room and then rushed out to Gralhund Villa. An ashen-faced servant led him upstairs to the Gralhunds’ bedchamber. Entering, Pashar saw that the glass doors leading out to the balcony had been smashed in. Broken glass glittered from the plush rugs.

Lady Yalah was sobbing on the bed. Lord Orond was standing over her trying to comfort her, but seeing Pashar come in her walked over to him. “Pashar! Everything Kora and Edana said! It was true! We weren’t able to protect them! The dark elves came! They took Zartan!”

“And your other son?” Pashar said quickly.

“Greth is in the next room. He’s all right.”

“What happened?”

Lord Orond ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “The dark elves attacked. We weren’t expecting them during the day. They broke in through these doors. They children were in here playing. The guards weren’t able to come quickly enough. They couldn’t get here before… they… They took my boy! They took…” He sobbed.

“Did they leave anything?”

“Yes,” Lady Yalah said, swallowing her own sobs. She held up a slip of black paper. Black paper with silver ink on it.

Pashar gingerly stepped over to her, took the note from her hand, and read.

“We just don’t know what to do,” Lord Orond said.

“Are there any unique objects that we could use to perhaps magically trace Zartan?” Pashar asked.

“He had a stuffed unicorn,” Lord Orond said.

“Did you see which way they went?”

“They crossed the roof,” Orond said. “But they had snipers and they kept us pinned down until they were gone.”

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Pashar reassured them.

“Whatever you can do,” Lady Yalah pleaded. “We’ll do anything! Please! Just save my son!”

Pashar excused himself.

PLANNING BETRAYALS WITH THE BEST INTENTIONS

The others arrived back to find that Pashar was missing.

“He’ll be back,” Kittisoth said with confidence. “What did Dain have to say?”

Kora quickly explained.

“Can we just talk to the Zhents and ask them to leave?” Kittisoth asked.

Edana shook her head. “I don’t think we’ll be able to convince the Zhents to leave when there’s no good reason for them to do so.”

“The Harpers are in the wrong here,” Theren said bluntly.

“I actually agree with you,” Kora said. “They’re valuing property over people because they don’t want to deal with someone finding out their secrets.” She paused and thought about it for a moment. “I think we should move the cache ourselves.”

Kittisoth grinned. “Sure. Why not? We just do it and tell them later. Didn’t they just make you a Harpshadow?”

“That’s right,” Edana said. “You’re empowered to make these kinds of decisions.”

“That’s true,” Kora said. “I’m supposed to use my initiative and my discretion. And using my discretion, we’re going to solve this problem. They’ll thank me later.”

“Where do we put it?”

“I think we can move it to Thunderstaff Manor,” Kora said.

That’s when Pashar walked in. “I have great news! The ruse continues! They have no idea that we were responsible for taking the Stone of Golorr! Also, Jarlaxle has stolen one of their children.”

“Oh my god,” Kittisoth murmured.

“Who?” Kora said.

“The Gralhunds.”

Pashar quickly filled them in on everything he’d learned from the Gralhunds.

“Didn’t we convince them that Jarlaxle had taken the Stone?” Theren said.

“We convinced them that Jarlaxle took their nimblewright,” Edana said. “So, from their perspective, he must not know what he has.”

“Or he’s trying to figure out how to open the nimblewright and access it.” Theren nodded.

“And what does Jarlaxle actually know?” Kittisoth asked. “Does he know we have the Stone?”

“I don’t think so,” Kora said. “Some people might know that Vajra took it, but I think only Vajra — and Renaer — knows that she gave it to us.”

But what now? They could tell Jarlaxle the truth. They could cut a deal to give him credit for helping to recover the stolen gold (if they could convince Vajra and Laeral to go along with it). They could use the Stone, empty the vaults, then pluck the Eyes back out of it and turn the blinded Stone over to him.

The truth was that they sympathized with him. He’d helped them several times despite having every reason not to. “And he’s just trying to gain protection and leverage for his city,” Kora said. “Just like any ruler would for his people. Even if his people are a bunch of pirates.” (“Pirates are not bad,” Kittisoth said. “Well…” Edana said. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”) His motivations seemed honorable.

“But he took a child,” Edana said. “He crossed a line.”

“Either way we need to do something right now,” Pashar said. “The child is already in danger.”

“We just need to reassure him,” Kittisoth said. “We just need enough time to get the third Eye from Xanathar and then access Vault. After that, we’ll have all the leverage. This whole thing can be done by tomorrow morning.”

“All right,” Kora said, “then we need to seek a meeting with Jarlaxle at the Seven Masks Theater. We’ll reassure him that we’re all working for the same ends, and that we just need a little more time to ‘find him what he needs.’”

“Perfect,” Theren said. “Even if he later finds out everything we’ve been up to, we’ll still be able to honestly say that we didn’t lie to him. I think he’ll respect that.”

To be continued…

DRAGON HEIST – SESSION 21
February 21st, 2020

With my recent announcement that my Dragon Heist campaign had come to an end, I’ve had a number of people, including several of my patrons, ask me for a retrospective or post mortem of my experiences. This campaign journal describing the last session of the campaign will be the first installment of that retrospective, with additional discussions to follow.

As noted above, this was Session 21 of the campaign. We primarily ran the campaign in weekend intensives, starting with a session on Friday night and then continuing with day-long sessions on Saturday and Sunday. In the back half of the campaign our Sunday sessions were shortened due to one of the players joining a roller derby league. There was also one month that we missed entirely and another where we were only able to play a single session. In the end, and entirely by coincidence, we ended the campaign exactly one year to the day from our first session.

If you’re looking for the rest of the campaign journals… Unfortunately, they don’t exist. Nor are they likely to exist barring someone deciding to single-handedly sponsor them at great expense or a general outcry of demand from a significant number of my patrons. These journals are not particularly onerous to produce, but they are relatively time-consuming. I think you’ll find that sufficient context has been given here to understand what’s happening and to be entertained by the group’s escapades. If you would like to peek at a few other major events in the campaign, I have written about it previously in two Running the Campaign columns: A Party at Shipwright’s House and The Manshoon Heists.

WHAT’S COME BEFORE

• The Trollskulls have adopted three orphans — Nat, Squiddly, and Jenks — and have recently arranged for their education: All are to be tutored on alternating afternoons by Firedrop (a pixie philosopher) and Nalolir (a podrikev; a dwarven construct with the brain and spinal column of a kobold who escaped from Undermountain a hunded years ago).
• Jenks has been apprenticed to Amara, a baker who only recently left her own apprenticeship when the Trollskulls helped set up a new bakery in what was previously Frewn’s Brews (a competing tavern in Trollskull Alley that the Trollskulls rode out of town on a rail… although, to be fair, Frewn had hired the Shard Shunner wererat gang to attempt to ruin Trollskull Manor).
• Squiddly had been apprenticed to Master Kennadr of the Fellowship of Bowyers and Fletchers. He wanted to one day become an archer, but he would begin by learning the tools of his would-be craft.
• Nat, who could speak only through sign language, had been apprenticed to Ethlando, an elven scholar who had once been a magi, but was cursed with having his magic stripped from him.
• Squiddly and Nat would attend their apprenticeships in the mornings before coming home to be tutored with Jenks. Jenks, however, now slept late after working at the bakery with Amara overnight.
• The Trollskulls have obtained the Stone of Golorr and two of its eyes. Having briefly allied with the Gralhunds, they eventually decided their true allegiance was to the city and they informed Vajra (who had made them members of Force Grey) of all that they knew. Vajra interceded with the Gralhunds, impounded the nimblewright where they were keeping the Stone of Golorr hidden, and then turned the Stone over to the PCs. (Vajra herself, along with Renaer Neverember, are preoccupied trying to rapidly build an airtight, post facto case against Victoro Cassalanter, who the Trollskulls arrested under somewhat unorthodox circumstances, for being an Asmodean cultist.) The Trollskulls then managed to convince the Gralhunds that it couldn’t have been Vajra and must have been Jarlaxle in disguise who stole their nimblewright (and the Stone within)!
• The Trollskulls also know that the notorious crime lord Xanathar has the third eye of the Stone of Golorr. They have befriended Ott Steeltoes, Xanathar’s majordomo, and learned that the one thing Xanathar prizes more than anything else in the world is a goldfish named Sylgar. Ott must routinely replace the goldfish whenever it dies. They also learned (and did business with) the fish dealer Ott gets his Sylgars from. They know that tomorrow night — on the 5^th of Tarsakh — Xanathar will be holding a gladiatorial contest in his headquarters as part of the Goldennight festival celebrations, and they have been given a teleportal key for Xanathar’s teleporter totems that will allow them to access his lair when the time comes…

RETURN TO THE CITY OF THE DEAD

It was mid-afternoon on the 4^th of Tarsakh. Edana was waiting at Trollskull Manor for the others to return from their various errands. Embric stopped by to deliver — in an elegant, velvet-lined box — the flasks he and Avi had modified to bear the tavern’s sigil:

These were the (many) flasks that Edana had taken from Osco Salibuck during their raid on the Cassalanter Villa, and she thought they would make lovely, mismatched mementoes for the Trollskulls. As the others returned and gathered in their upstairs sitting room, she pulled them out to much admiration.

The kids came running out of their room, their afternoon tutoring complete. “Where are you going?” Edana asked.

“Swordfighting!” Squiddly called back.

“With wooden swords, right?”

“Yes!”

“If I hear metal, you’re in trouble!”

“Okay, mom!”

The kids were gone. Kittisoth couldn’t contain her glee. They’d called Edana mom! For the first time!

After a brief discussion, they confirmed their intention to hit Xanathar’s lair the next night, taking advantage of the confusion around the Goldennight fights. In the meantime, Pashar had a hunch they wanted to follow up on: In their original attempts to figure out why the Zhentarim had been interested in Renaer’s mourning locket for his mother, they had visited the Brandath Crypts with him several weeks earlier. Now they suspected that they might have missed something. They knew that Lord Dagult had hidden his gold somewhere, they knew that he had done significant construction to build his wife’s crypt, and they knew that he had hidden one of the Golorr eyes in his son’s mourning locket. Why? What was the connection?

Passing through the gardened paths of the City of the Dead, they saw any number of picnickers and the like near the north gates. A gaggle of children ran past flying kites. Further south, they were passed themselves by a procession of self-flagellant priests of Ilmater, seeking to bless the burial grounds.

The Brandath Crypts hoved into view. Outside the front gate of the crypts they saw the tall form of the treant Pal’ithil’drassar. Theren, who had actually visited him a few times since their first visit here, greeted him as a friend and they chatted amiably for a while before passing into the crypts themselves.

They passed the grand tombs of porphyry and marble and instead twisted their way into the older tombs, making their way to where Lady Alethea had been interred.

Lady Alethea’s sarcophagus, in the center of the chamber, was clearly newer than the rest of the crypt. A bouquet of wilted roses — left by Renaer when last they’d been here, or perhaps replaced since then — lay atop the sarcophagus. Looking up, Edana saw that the ceiling was covered with a faded and chipped tempura portrait of a nobleman identified, by a painted banner beneath the figure, as LORD ANRI BRANDATH. Fresh script around the perimeter of this portrait read, in four languages, “The beauty of our age, in death, is watched over by the spirits of her ancestors.”

It was clear to Kora that there were three different ages of construction: The crypt itself was the oldest. At some later date, but still quite a long time ago, the painting of Lord Anri had been added to the ceiling above. And then, quite recently, Lady Alethea’s sarcophagus and the new script had been added. (Most likely at the same time, Lord Anri’s remains — which they had previously seen in a cheap, new tomb on the far side of the Brandath Crypts – had been moved.) Kora also noticed that Lord Anri’s portrait depicted him with an alexandrite-tipped pin and holding a distinctive dwarven compass in his left hand, both of which were symbols of the Maroon Brotherhood, an obscure fraternal order that had once been active in Waterdeep but no longer existed.

Kora pulled out her wand of secrets. Standing next to the sarcophagus in the center of the room, she uttered the command word. The wand instantly jerked her hand towards the southern wall. “There,” she said.

Edana closely inspected the wall there. She found four false stones. Pushing them in, she heard bolts retracting and was then able to push open the wall, revealing a staircase heading down. Sconces for torches were placed on the walls, but there were no torches in them. The air was dry. There was a thick coating of dust, but a large amount of fairly recent traffic had disturbed it up and down the stairs.

On the top step, Edana noted scorch marks. “There was a trap here,” she said. “But someone triggered it.”

Pashar stepped closer and looked over her shoulder. “Looks like the remains of a glyph of warding.”

“That’s trouble,” Kora said. “Did someone beat us here?”

Watched over by Lady Alethea’s sarcophagus, they waited for Pashar and Kora to ritually cast comprehend languages and detect magic, respectively. (Kitti couldn’t shake the feeling that Lady Alethea was judging her relationship with Renear. “Whatever. I’m awesome.”) When the rites were done, Edana led the way down the stairs.

At the bottom, they found a twisted passage lined with niches containing ancient sarcophagi, their once-sharp features worn away into featureless lumps be immeasurable age. Coming to a corner, Edana noticed that one of the sconces had been ripped out of the wall. It was laying in the middle of the floor. The hall continued for some little distance, but then ended in a complete collapse of earth and stone.

Edana frowned. She reached down to her belt and opened her bag of holding. A small skull with jewels for eyes came flying out of it. “Mortaunto!” it cried.

Mortaunto swooped over to the broken sconce lying on the ground and telekinetically floated it into the air. “This is fascinating!” He darted back and forth examining it from every angle. “Hmm…”

“Mortaunto,” Edana asked, “do you see this collapse? From your vantage point, can you see a way through it?”

“Yes! Of course!” Mortaunto cried. “Here!” He telekinetically moved the sconce over to the mouth of Edana’s bag and jiggled it suggestively. Edana complied, opening the bag and allowing him to add the sconce to his collection within.

“Mortaunto!” Mortaunto cried and flew down the hallway… and straight through the wall.

“Oh shit,” Edana said.

Mortaunto flew back out of the wall. “It appears to be… an illusion!”

Kitti clapped. “Mortaunto! You’re so good! I love you so much!”

Edana opened her bag and Mortaunto zipped back in to continue his inspection and adoration of his new treasure. Then she led the others to the illusion. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through.

Beyond the illusion there was an archway filled with a heavy door of steel. The keystone of the arch was decorated to appear like a mountain with a purple alexandrite gemstone in the middle of it (Kora recognized this as a depiction of the dwarven god Dumathoin’s holy symbol). The voussoir around the perimeter of the arch had been carved with more symbols of the Maroon Brotherhood in alternation with dwarven runes: A dwarven compass, a serpent’s forked tongue, a scarabraeus, a brain with two tentacles (this was Ilsensine’s holy symbol, god of the illithid), and a broken arrow (holy symbol of Laduguer, god of the dark dwarves).

“This is strange,” Kora said. She couldn’t imagine what connection there would be between these three very disparate gods.

The door was obviously of much more recent construction than the arch, and its installation had actually damaged some of the ancient symbols in the arch. Edana knelt down and took a close look at the lock. “This is like a bank vault, but I’ll se what I can do.”

A few minutes into her efforts, however, she tripped something. Some sort of magical effect.

“What did it do?” Kittisoth asked.

“I’m not sure,” Edana said.

“Probably an alarm,” Kora said.

Edana sighed in frustration. “This is going to take awhile. The sun will have probably set before I can get this door open.”

They briefly discussed their options. In the end, Pashar sent Darkimedes — his familiar — to fly back to Trollskull and let Lif know that they wouldn’t be coming back tonight. Pashar would also be able to create a magical tiny hut for them to respite in, rather than venturing out into the unknown dangers of the City of the Dead at night.

And so, while the others retreated to Lady Alethea’s tomb to relax, Edana redoubled her focus on cracking the complicated lock. It took her nearly two hours, but she eventually felt the last of the interlocked tumblers release and the door swung open.

BENEATH THE CRYPT

Calling out to the others, she stood up and looked down the long, sloping hallway beyond. The others quickly gathered their things and joined her, and then they proceeded down the hallway together.

About fifteen feet past the door, the construction of the stone changed. “This lower portion is dwarven construction,” Edana said, noting the smooth, almost ageless carving. Another fifty feet down they began encountering dwarven graffiti that soon covered both walls — and even the ceiling — in a palimpsest of what turned out to be secrets. Pashar was fascinated, studying the mostly banal confessions and noting down many of them: My beard quivers for Lorlai of the stonecutters. I tasted pixy dust in the third hall. I use rotgrub paste to dye my beard. And so forth.

This continued for several hundred feet before the passage emptied out into a vaulted chamber twenty feet wide and twenty feet high. It seemed to resonate with a silent stillness, suggestive of its great age. The far wall of the chamber was dominated by a massive pair of adamantine doors bearing dwarvish runes taller than a grown man. “All that lies within belongs to the Silent Keeper.”

In the center of the floor there was a bronze bas relief of a stylized sun, six feet across. A Chondathan inscription had been carved into the floor in a circle around the bas relief. They read, “Know ye the hidden truth,” repeated three times.

“There’s magic here,” Kora said. “Ancient abjurations.”

“Placed here by Lord Dagult?” Edana asked.

“Older than that,” Kora said. “Much older.” She set to work studying the abjurations. Some great magical rite of warding linked the adamantine doors to bas relief sun on the floor. Their power was immense. “It requires some sort of rite or passphrase to open the doors. And it would take a wish to bypass these protections.”

Theoretically the Blackstaff or perhaps Laeral would be able to provide such a conjuration, but the cost would be step and probably not to be borne as long as another option remained.

“This must have been what Lord Dagult used the Stone to hide,” Edana said. “The passphrase for entering the vault.”

“So if we get the third eye, we’ll be able to use the Stone to learn the passphrase?” Theren asked. “And then use the passphrase to open the doors?”

“Maybe,” Edana said. “We don’t really understand exactly what the Stone does or how it does it.”

For the moment, at least, it seemed that they had reached an impasse. They went back up the long hall and Pashar evoked his tiny hut. He decided that it should be maroon, in honor of the Brotherhood whose signs they had found here, and they settled in for a secure night’s sleep.

To be continued…

SESSION 22B: AT THE TOP OF PYTHONESS HOUSE

May 18th, 2008
The 10th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Meanwhile, the skeletal leader – in a frenzied flurry of blades – had been cut down by Tor and Tee. Tee, inspecting the body, discovered the chain armor was of superb quality. The woman had also worn a ruby ring and matching gold bracelet worth a small fortune. On the interior of the bracelet was inscribed a name:

RADANNA

Laying near the gruesome remains of whatever deadly ritual had been held here there was a slim, red book. On the cover, traced in blood, was the symbol of a spiral. Ranthir began examining it as Tee continued searching the room.

THE SCARLET OATH

On the cover of this book, written in blood, is the symbol of a coil. On the first page is an oath:

“I pledge my body, soul, and purpose to the furtherance of chaos. We shall act as one. We shall breathe as one. We shall think as one. And in our crimson coils we shall choke out the life of those who would bring us death. We shall choke out the order which stifles life. We shall choke out the civilization which crushes liberty.”

The rest of the book teaches the ways of the Brotherhood of the Crimson Coil. The cult acts like a virus – their faces hidden; their identities submerged into the Coil itself. The members of the cult do not mix in normal society, preferring to remain cloistered in remote temples or hidden demesnes. The only time the cultists make an appearance is to carry out a Purging. During a Purging the cultists appear en masse to carry out some act of terrible destruction.

The cult chooses a target, seemingly at random, and then show up to burn down a building; set fire to a field; slaughter a family; or deface a monument. They are neither subtle nor gentle. They show neither mercy nor fear. Usually, their raids come so suddenly and unexpectedly that they meet little resistance. They usually appear in numbers so great, they simply cannot be stopped—a hundred cultists to burn down a single house, a dozen to murder a merchant walking down the street. They disappear quickly, often using spells to cover their escape.

(more…)

SESSION 22A: RETURN TO PYTHONESS HOUSE

May 18th, 2008
The 10th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Dominic was led inside the cathedral. Tee, seeing him go, quickly followed. Agnarr, Ranthir, and Tor came too. The Order of the Dawn moved to block them at the cathedral’s door. Tee called out to Dominic, but Dominic – nursing his distracted thoughts and worries – didn’t hear her. Fortunately, Tee’s efforts were enough to convince the guard that they could enter.

They caught up to Dominic just as Rehobath’s procession came to a stop in the sacred hall. The newly-anointed Novarch turned to Dominic and smiled, “Thank you, Dominic. Without your guidance this day would not have been possible. Now I feel as if our paths must part, at least for awhile. We must each work for the gods in our own ways, after all.”

This suited Dominic just fine, who had just been trying to figure out how he could get away from Rehobath and his politics without letting him know how he truly felt.

“Now,” Rehobath said. “Is there anything else I can do for you… for any of you?” His gaze took in Tee and the others.

Dominic seemed ready to get out of there, but Tee wasn’t satisfied yet. “Do you think Dominic will be safe?”

“Two members of the Order of the Dawn are already waiting at the Ghostly Minstrel, as you had requested.” Rehobath smiled. “Do you think more guards might be needed?”

“No,” Tee said, glancing towards Dominic. “That should be fine.”

They headed back outside. Dominic leaned towards Tee. “I need to get out of these robes,” he said. “I don’t feel right in them.”

“You can borrow one of my kilts,” Agnarr offered.

Dominic caught a whiff of Agnarr’s unique odor as he leaned in close. “Um…” He shook his head. “No thanks.”

They met up with Elestra, who had spent her time outside circulating through the crowd. “Everyone here seems pretty excited by this. They’re all talking about the dawn of a new age. But I’ve also heard quite a few of them talking about how they knew to be here. I think the crowd was hand-picked.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Tee said. “Come on, lets get out of here.”

When they had gotten some distance away from the cathedral, Dominic stopped and pulled off the purple prelate robes that Rehobath had given to him. He turned to the others. “Does anybody else want to go delving for a couple of weeks?” (more…)