Session 3: Hostile Takeover The PCs along with all the other gangs have decided to end the reign of the Mother Night once and for all. A small sparrow comes to Eurim (Wizard) in the middle of the night, eager to take the food from his hand. It eyes you suspiciously, then comes forward to snatch the morsel. You carress its head, and with a flourish, it speak aloud the words of a spell. A wind rolls by, loamy and chill. The animal finishes its meal and looks to you attentively, almost subserviently. It serves you now, at least for a time. Animal Messenger (2nd level spell) "It's I Navish Brightfoot. I can meet you to unlock the chapel gate to the Temple of Mystra at midnight, allowing you breach into the ritual room with a small silent group (the players of course) that Mother Night Denoa is using to summon the Shadow Dragon. They are using the Gate Stone to transport small squads of Shadar-Kai to not garner the attention of the War Wizards of Cormyr. Please be carful and may you all shine in the Light of the Lady." The PCs coordinate an attack where the main effort will assault the Mother Night while they infiltrate the Temple of Mystra to end the battle quickly by cutting the head of the snake. The old temple looms on the hill above the town. While crumbling from years of attacks and inadequate repair, it remains a formidable fortress. Towers thrust up like the spears of an invading army, the high walls their crossed shields, and the many bastions and keeps behind them their brooding heads, crowned with battlements. Breach one gate or pierce one wall, and you enter a vast labyrinth of fortifications. Somewhere within, Mother Night Denoa hopes to summon a Shadow Dragon that could have the power to destroy the magical forcefield that surrounds Wheloon. The Battle for Wheloon Acrid smoke hangs heavy on the air, carrying with it the mingled stench of mud and viscera. The screams reach you next—barked orders, blaring horns, and the clamor of steel. Cresting the hill, you see the full tempest of the battle sprawling to the very edge of the horizon, a cyclone of flame and steel, and waves of iron-clad combatants slamming against one another like the sea upon the shore. On one side, the army wears silver-and-black raiment; on the other, a mesh of colors belonging to the gangs of Wheloon. The Mountain spearhead a flanking maneuver, attempting to crush the enemy’s western lines beneath warhammer and shield. A volley of arrows rains down on the rear lines, hundreds of arrowheads finding their mark between plates of armor and the ribs of would-be followers of Shar. A great cry goes up as the Shadar-Kai regroups, locking their ranks against one another, and trudging forward through the mud to meet the charge of gangs. The PCs arrive at the chapel gates undetected and are happy to finally meet Navish Brightfoot, as he unlocks the gates and whispers to them to remain silent as the cross the courtyard. A thick fog blankets the chapel courtyard, a roiling moonlit sea flowing between broken pillars and moss-covered statues. The cold air nips at everyone's exposed skin and a mournful bell chimes above you, echoing ominously into the night. An ancient fountain stands in the courtyard—a broken holy symbol cast in weather-beaten iron at its center—perhaps a meeting place for acolytes and priests of Mystra in happier days. The Courtyard of Mystra's Temple The PCs cross the courtyard with an eerie silence due to the PASS WITHOUT TRACE spell from Corax (Ranger). Navish steps close to Gurral (barbarian) to whisper a few words into his ear when he suddenly stabs him with a poisoned dagger. The spindly halfling stands taller than most, and its erratic movements unsettles everyone watching it shape change. Its skin, almost translucent, appears mottled and ever-changing, shifting with each movement. It turns, and you see that its face is devoid of features—hollow pits for eyes, a slight bump for a nose, and a thin, lipless mouth. The visage chills your blood. The features shift, to faces both familiar and strange; then, as quickly as it appeared, the creature assumes a new form. Doppelganger Suddenly several blood-chilling screeches fills your ears and impenetrable darkness descends on the courtyard, clouding the party's sense of direction. You all briefly catch sight of a dozen s mall creatures surrounding you with sickening blue skin and large yellow eyes, wearing simple cloth doublets, preferring greens and blues. Some have dark patches of hair, often receding. F resh blood smeared around their mouths as their lips curl into a wicked smile. Xvart The last foe falls, and in time, the din of battle recedes. Your body aches, your injuries becoming evident as your awareness returns—and yet you live. Blood drips from the weapon in your hands. You take in great lungful of air, sweat shining on your face as you find your allies standing around you, all breathing just as hard. You nod to one another, thankful to be alive, thankful to see your foes at your feet. The battle was hard fought—hard won. But now you each stand, victorious. The Summoning Chamber The PCs enter a high-ceilinged room with pillars and multiple entrances, all but the one by which you entered is painted with a mural. They present strange dreamlike landscapes filled with what must be allegorical places, figures, and objects; runes in a black circle od darkness border each mural. Lightning leaps and sparks, crackling along cords in the walls and floors, and buzzing between the sharp tines of an arcane machine. The room hums with power. It vibrates your teeth and sets your hair on end. Whatever the purpose of this chamber, it seems to go against nature, for it feels as if the air itself rebels against the contraption’s control. Scorches mark the high ceiling of this chamber. The air feels heavy with magic, as if you wade through latent spells. The floor under the scorches bears an etching of a hexagon in which candles have melted. Other lines of some white powder trace a complex shape around the hexagon, but one of the outer lines has clearly been scuffed and broken. Mother Night Denoa A pale skinned woman with black eyes and a many facial piercings walks smoothly at the other side of the chamber. " “Ooooh, look at you. What a succulent morsel for Shar. I’ll rise a rung higher by presenting your head in her name, garnished and on a silver charger. Know t hat in darkness, I dreamt of many things—of rot, of life, of decay, of an age of worms. And now that dream can be free, to leak to every corner of this world. Your kind will return to the embrace of entropy." Chain Fighter Trazel Alongside Mother Denoa is a pale skinned man standing a head taller than most humans, with a broad and muscular frame draped in black dark breastplate. A long chain dangles from the Shadar-Kai’s arm, ending in wicked hooks. A pair of white eyes gleam from within the mass of shadow and darkness. “You will all be dragged, shrieking, into the abyss of all that is Shar. The twisted fire that burns within you be sated... You are not worthy, you are not heroes, you are just individuals awaiting a pain so great it will echo across the world.” Inquisitor Galron Onyxfist A dwarvish man stalks forward. The merry jingle of keys on his ring mixes with the dull clink of irons, as a yank of the chain forces the enslaved halfling (Navish Brightfoot) to stumble forward. His wrists are bound, his gait made irregular by a short chain connecting two bands around his ankles. This Duergar is dressed in a somber colored robe under a black gambeson, this sturdy duergar has blue-gray skin and pale eyes. He wears boots constructed of elven flesh and bracers of dark, scaly leather with rune-etched steel trimmings. His white hair, which darkens near the ends, hangs in elaborate braids over his shoulders to the middle of her back and is adorned with steel hair cuffs and loops, all runed. From his belt, also of scaly leather, hangs a rectangular satchel: the spine of a thick tome, bound in leather and steel, peeks from its front compartment. In his left hand, the duergar grips a wand of twisted black iron that tapers to a point, the tip glowing red-hot. His gaze is intense and calculating. "You think yourself fearsome, wreathed in your armor and surrounded by fools. But I’ve looked into the Abyss and bent it to my will. Today, you will all die." He stares recognizing Corax's garb (that of a gloomstalker of the underdark). “You dare look upon me with mockery? You pitiful, stupid creature. I am the devourer of all things, after what I did to the last slaves of the Underdark that dared threatened me, I was sure no amount of gold or glory could convince someone like you to face me. I suppose slaves like you have short memories. But after they find what remains of you, I should have at least a few moments of pleasure with you, Ranger." Fossilized Warrior Skeleton It’s heard first: a sound like sticks clacking together. The form’s magical strings—barely holding the bones together under the weight of its garb—lift the legs one at a time, body swaying with skill and balance. Hollow eye sockets of pure white bone stare forward and the jaw jitters as if the dead are speaking with no words. The solid skull of the shaking horror slowly turns, shifting its attention toward you all. With seemingly new life it rushes at you, raising a battle axe and morningstar in each hand, ready to strike. Wild Magic radiating from the Orb of Summoning The PCs defeat the Shadar-Kai, with an assortment of tactics and ingenuity. Dusk (cleric/rogue) and Eurim (wizard) focused their attention on the summoning orb causing wildmagic to leap about the chamber, dancing over jagged stones and broken pillars. As the wildmagic writhes in cycles about the room, it changes color and intensity, blasting everything with lurid hues causing significant harm to friends and foes alike. Corax (ranger) moved with a feline grace getting to his prey. At the ideal spot he drops silently, his eyes shining in the candle-light, a dagger in one hand, wanting to stare into the Inquisitor's eyes before his life is snatched away by the Gloomstalker. Before the target can react, his poisoned dagger is drawn and stabs the Inquisitor's chest. The poison does quick, grisly work. His vision swims, narrowing to a pinpoint as all sound becomes muffled around him. His knees buckle as every ounce of strength leaves him in an instant and his mouth tastes foul, acrid, bitter—nausea coils at the back of his throat. His heartbeat slows to a crawl as it begins to struggle at pumping blood through his body, until he dies a slow painful death. Mother Denoa refusing to fail in her task assigned to her by Shar sacrifices her own life to summon the Shadow Dragon, by thrusting herself into the Orb of Wildmagic. This causes the floor of the chamber to be covered in tendrils of bruised purple shadow that reach up a few inches and then angle toward her dragging her into a black void. The tendrils pull color from the walls, even from the night itself, so that everything but their shadow light seems pale, anemic, clothed in gray. Everyone's mind fogs with boredom and loss as the Shadow Dragon is born, and your first footfall on the writhing purplish floor sends a chill through you, as if you are suddenly less alive. Mother Night Denoa forfeits her life for a greater cause You all suddenly hear an explosion that sends a shockwave through all of Wheloon, and a cloud of dark fire and ash rises from Mother Denoa's body. As the final lines are drawn in the blood of the party's slain enemies, space itself seems to bend and fracture. Three-dimensional cracks, like in a damaged crystal, form before the orb. With a thunderous boom a section shatters, and you find yourself staring into an unfathomable blackness that shakes you all to your primal core. As you rise to your feet, you see a shadowy creature that defies belief, even as you look upon its leviathan form with your own eyes. This dragon dwarfs others of its kind, with inky flesh stretched taut over sharp, angular bones that emerge as blade-like protrusions at the joints and along the spine. Shadows enshroud its form, wisping from it in smoke-like tendrils, and despite its immense mass, it moves with an otherworldly speed and grace. The membranous wings, folded tight against its frame, would likely span a hundred feet. With a sneering hiss that sends caustic saliva to boil upon nearby surfaces, the draconic creature looks upon you with jet-black eyes that seem to blaze with dark flame and flies directly into the forcefield of Wheloon, escaping to return to it's masters in Netheril. Navish Brightfoot Navish stumbles forward removing the manacles around his wrist and says, "That's it then, We'd best be going". Navish quickly heads toward the summoning circle retrieving the Sapphires of Mystra and looks to you all. Jerrick Valwater Jerrick Valwater appears and clears his throat. "our lookout report a large force of Shadar-Kai warriors headed this way." His eyes take in the destruction of the chamber and the incoming waves of Shadar-Kai. "Interesting, prior to this, I might have thought we had a chance at survival." The PCs quickly depart and head toward the central square. Once at the central square, Navish places the sapphires in the eye sockets of the statue of Mystra and looks to the PCs. “This is it, folks,” Navish says, “our ticket home. Trouble is, the ritual takes a few minutes, and I get the impression we’re about to have a hole lot of unwelcome company. Keep ‘em off me, eh?” Navish turns to the statue and begins chanting. The statue’s light pulses briefly and then winks out, the only light coming from its sapphire-blue eyes. The gang leaders all appear as soon as Navish starts the ritual. (Doleman, Ilian, Jerrick, and Saria) "You've found a way out, haven't you? The gang leaders standing at the edge of the square, blood dripping from their weapons. "may we all come with you? May we? They all look toward more approaching enemies. "It's death to stay." Navish has no opinion. He’s been here two years and knows that not all the prisoners necessarily deserve their fate. Any who are getting out need simply step onto the dais by the statue. Dolman Hammerstrike also asks that he and his people be allowed to escape. He won’t leave without his people. The PCs decide to take all the gang leaders telling them they will report them to the authorities the first chance they get. Navish finishes chanting, and the statue of Mystra stretches its arms to the sky. "All right everybody, all aboard!" The Shadar-Kai pause in their assault , confused, as the dais fill with people. Mystra’s hands come together over her head, and the dais is circled with white light that shoots into the sky, piercing the prison shield. Then the dais is rising through the light up, up, and out of Wheloon. The PCs fly through the sky, the bloated purple wart of Wheloon’s prison shield rapidly receding from sight. Finally, they land gently in distant field. The statue of Mystra smiles at you, the light fading from her eyes, and the statue crumbles to dust. Jerrick hopes to leave Cormyr for a time and make up for the mistakes of his youth in some distant land. He gives Leon (paladin) his family signet ring, and ask the party to let his family know he is still alive. Dolman Hammerstrike thanks the PCs and says he will be returning home to his highborn clan near Silverymoon. He offers a bag full of Mithral Ore to Leon (paladin). Saria thanks the party for her rescue and says she will return to the Dalelands and join the Wood Elves of Cormanthor Forest. She offers the remaining arcane arrows in her quiver to Corax (ranger). Ilian thanks the PCs and says he will take the job offered by Eurim (wizard) as a professors assistant in Candlekeep. He offers his spellbook that contains every ritaul he knows to Eurim (wizard). The PCs make no effort to restrain anyone and everyone else brought out of Wheloon scatter to the four winds. "True heroes for saving me and preventing the collapse of the shield of Wheloon, thats what you are" Navish pronounces. "Now come on, I wager we've a long walk back to Marsember, and the reward your rightfully deserve. The PCs realize that Dusk (cleric/rogue) is missing. The PCs cant help but think the sheer devotion and love Dusk had for the Lady of Light (Mystra), the Goddess must have greater plans for such a devout follower. A sudden whisper is heard by all in Dusk's voice... “When I came to you all, I was filled with thoughts of grand adventure. Innocents locked in towers, fiery dragons, cackling witches. And while the journeys we’ve had together have been… different, to say the least, they have meant more to me than any fairy tale. Yet, when I think about what my life could’ve been as a cleric of Mystra, I tremble. I love you all, but I have made a mistake, and I’ve been lying to myself for too long. I’m leaving for a new kind of adventure. I don’t know if I’ll find what I’m looking for, but I hope, between all your escapades, I will get to see you again.” The PCs complete CHAPTER 3: Escape from Wheloon and advance to level 5! 14 days of downtime passes before the next adventure, which will begin in Marsember (also known as the City of Spices, it's a metropolis and the busiest port in the entire kingdom of Cormyr).