Spelunking and Speculations

“Wait, where are we going, exactly?” Theryn said. “The journey that begins on an unsure foot often leads nowhere.” Bob’s expression was resolute. “I know the way,” he said firmly. “Sune spoke to me of the tallest peaks in the western Sword Mountains. There, we will solve the riddle of Ieirithymbul.” “And find Tholl Sla-Hauk,” Siegfried said. “And deal with the ghosts of the Broken Bone.” “And recover the crystal panes of Hyolyn,” Varien said. Theryn nodded. “And find the White Hand of Yurtrus. The Sword Mountains contain a multitude of mysteries, it seems.” “Well then, let’s be off!” Siegfried clapped his hands and turned to Erwen. “Small man, give us the vapours, if you please.” Erwen cast wind walk on his fellow adventurers and the party slowly dissolved into wisps of cloud, floating over the Tower District as they drifted towards the southeast. The party members rose high above the city of Neverwinter, high enough to see the broken peaks of Mount Hotenow to the far north. Helm’s Hold was a dark smudge to the east, and as the clouds drifted south, the party members could make out the tiny settlement of Phandalin in the foothills of the Sword Mountains. To the west, towards the coast where the Sea of Swords was a foreboding strip of deep blue, was Leilon, which Siegfried knew as a caravan stop on the High Road, the terminus of the Triboar Trail, and a shallow harbor for trade ships. South of Leilon was a dark, murky mire that disappeared over the horizon. The Sword Mountains loomed ever closer as the party’s gaseous forms were joined by layer upon layer of roiling clouds of a more natural origin. Only the tallest peaks poked their summits above the grey banks of clouds that shrouded the mountains well above the snowline. Bob recalled what Radegast had told him: that at the western edge of the range, there would be three tall mountain peaks – Mount Phaeldar being the tallest and westernmost, with Mount Sternhelm to the north and Mount Ardabad to the west, closest to Leilon. As the weather deteriorated, he struggled to overlay his mental map atop the topography below him. At last, he found what he hoped was the right arrangement of mountains, and drifted downward through the snowstorm in hopes of a good landing zone. Fortunately, he was able to pick out the shadowy mouth of a cave on one of the mountainsides, and led the rest of the party to shelter. It took nearly a minute for the party members to return to their corporeal forms, and they were exhausted from their long journey south. Varien quickly reconnoitered the cavern’s perimeter, discovering only the mummified remains of an explorer who had dragged himself into the cave before freezing to death. Siegfried sniffed in disdain. “Should’ve had a Tiny Hut,” he remarked before he began to sketch out the sigils and runes on the cave floor that would mark the dimensions of his magical sanctum. Varien respectively moved the corpse further back into the recesses of the cave and covered it with rocks, uttering a quiet prayer of interment. “So then,” Theryn said, brushing a tuft of cloud from his shoulder. “Some of you I know, but some of you I’m meeting for the first time,” he indicated Siegfried, who was intent on completing the ritual and did not look up. “Well, we’ve had some wild and crazy adventures since you left,” Varien offered. “Do tell,” Theryn said. “Well, this handsome gentleman here-” Varien indicated Siegfried – “saved Alec’s life from a shapechanging assassin in Helm’s Hold. That’s where we met him. And we’ve traveled together since then – it would seem that for now our goals are aligned.” “Wait, Helm’s Hold?” Theryn said, frowning. “What were you doing before that, and what happened to that licentious mage you were traveling with?” Bob scowled. “Well, we were sheltering in Conyberry after getting into some trouble in Neverwinter Wood,” Varien explained. “When we were attacked by werewolves. Xylon decided to run off with an Eldreth Veluuthra hostage we had secured, and dropped a fireball on us as part of his escape.” “Was that before or after you got yourselves wanted by an entire city-state?” Siegfried called over his shoulder. “Wait, Helm’s Hold considers you all criminals now?” Theryn exclaimed. “I’ve only been gone a month!” “That city is corrupt,” Bob said. Varien nodded. “As I said, it’s been a few wild and crazy adventures for us since you’ve been gone.” Theryn shrugged. “Well, when destiny or nature calls, you must answer.” There was a dull basso hum as an ash-coloured dome of force coalesced into existence over the runes and marks that Siegfried had made on the cave floor. A seamless aperture irised open, and the half-orc stood in the doorway, dusting off his hands. “Please, make yourselves at home.” He ushered the party members in. The aperture closed behind them. Inside the dome, it was comfortably warm. “Where are my manners?” He nodded to Theryn. “In answer to your earlier question, my name is Siegfried Alagondar, of the royal line of Alagondar.” Varien rolled his eyes. Alec frowned and leaned over to Bob. “I thought his last name was Thann?” Siegfried continued, “My family, on my mother’s side of course, were all killed when Mount Hotenow erupted and destroyed Neverwinter in 1451DR. The volcanic eruption leveled the city, killing rich and poor, king and commoner alike.” “How egalitarian,” Bob mused. “My mother,” Siegfried said, “was at the time engaged in a planned, but not consummated, marriage of convenience that would link House Alagondar with the Kingdom of Many-Arrows.” “Marriage to an Orc prince?” Alec whispered to Bob. “Shush,” Bob shushed his brother. Siegfried pulled some cloth-wrapped items from his satchel and began assembling a tea service on a folding table. “Some of those Many-Arrows orcs you’ve already met and killed,” Siegfried said darkly. “Now, I don’t know what happened exactly when Dagult took Neverwinter, but my mother eventually made her way to House Thann in Waterdeep and bore a son. Then,” he sighed heavily, “she slit her own throat in her nursing bed.” He pulled out a family dagger and brandished it. “And ever since, her voice has been in my ear, whispering to me that I should kill Dagult Neverember.” He smiled. “Lavender tea, anyone?” Varien cleared his throat. “So, am I the only one here who doesn’t want Dagult to die?” “I would have preferred to avoid it if possible,” Siegfried replied, “if we could have come to an understanding, but instead, he sent assassins to kill us while we slept, under his ‘protection.’” “Well,” Bob said. “For what it’s worth, I’m indifferent to killing the Lord Protector.” “Now Siegfried, you don’t know if he’s the one who called in those assassins,” Varien said. “Of course not,” Siegfried replied. “What’s your theory?” “I don’t know,” Varien said. “Assassins?” “Varien, your brain truly is grander than this very mountain,” Siegfried said. “Assassins are small fry when you think on a celestial scale,” Varien said. “But, Varien, assassins have been known to fell even the gods themselves,” said Siegfried. “Take Mystra, for example.” “Yes, but not those assassins from yesterday,” Varien said. “Varien, the very day I revealed to the Lord Protector that I was leading the Neverwinter Harpers, they were rounded up, and some assassins were sent to kill me, and the rest of you.” Siegfried countered. “Well then,” Varien said, “the first thing we need to do is confirm whether or not Dagult sent those assassins, and if he did try to kill us, then I’ll help you return the favour,” Varien said. “And if Dagult is willing to release my agents, then I will no longer be worried,” Siegfried said. He paused and frowned. “That’s a lie. I’m always worried. But, I will be willing to admit that perhaps I was wrong about the Lord Protector.” Bob shrugged. “Dagult is okay,” he said. “Agreed,” Alec said. “I have neutral feelings,” Theryn added. “And Erwen?” Siegfried turned to the Halfling. “What do you think of the Lord Protector.” Erwen grimaced. “Erwen no likey.” He wildshaped into a tabby cat and promptly curled up in Alec’s lap. Alec pet the cat absently. “We should rest up,” Siegfried said. “Mountaineering tends to take a lot out of you.” The party members relaxed and saved their strength. For the first time in many nights, none of them were bothered by the horrific nightmares that had plagued them in Neverwinter and Helm’s Hold.   Except for Bob. He tossed and turned fitfully. Then he sat up sharply, opening his eyes. He could see only blackness. But he could hear. He could hear a sound like muffled sobbing, coming from all around him and yet from nowhere. An ancient voice, older than the mountain, was weeping. “ My children…my sons…I could not save them ,” he said, repeating himself in between racking sobs. “After all this time, my strength…fades…my children…” Bob felt a deep connection with this troubled disembodied voice, which was somehow familiar even though he’d never heard it before. The feeling was almost instinctual, like a racial memory. And even though he was thousands of miles from Kirkwall, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was home. His eyes fluttered open. Looking down, he saw that his green- and black-tinged scales had fallen off, replaced by shining new gold scales. Normal 0 false false false EN-CA ZH-CN X-NONE /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} Bob smiled, tears of evergold streaking his cheeks.     

Varien was standing at the mouth of the cave, heedless of the wind and snow that whipped past and obscured the valley below. Bob left the confines of the hut and joined him at the cave entrance. “Varien,” he said. “I’ve had another vision. And I have new scales.” He showed Varien his forearms. “What happened?” Varien said. Bob explained what he had seen and heard in his vision. “I have no theological basis for what you’re going through,” Varien said to Bob. “Perhaps you were bitten by a weredragon?” “Not that I remember,” Bob shook his head. “But when I arrived in Phandalin, that’s when the first gold scales began appearing. When we traveled to Helm’s Hold and into Neverwinter Wood, my golden scales were fringed with green, and when we made it into Neverwinter itself, they were black. But now, having traveled further south, all those off-colour scales have fallen out, replaced with these new gold ones.” “So,” Varien said. “Go south, get golden?” “Seems that way.” Siegfried arrived at the cave mouth with two mugs of chamomile tea. “To sharpen your memory,” he explained to Bob. “Now, what were you saying about distances and your scaly manifestations?” “What do you mean?” Bob asked. “Well, consider for a moment our lack of nightmares last night,” Siegfried said. “This leads me to believe that whatever is causing the nightmares doesn’t stretch this far south, for one thing.” “What is causing those nightmares, do you think?” Varien asked. “At best, a very capitalist hag who likes selling Dreamthief Dolls,” Siegfried said. “Worst case, a necrodragon.” “A necro-what?” Varien asked with concern. “Siegfried, I spent the better part of a year researching everything to do with necromancy after what happened to Lorelei. Especially how to kill necromancers. I’ve heard of these…dracoliches.” He shook his head. “The power of a lich combined with a dragon? That’s a powerful enemy right there.” “This could go beyond the destruction of a single city, even one like the Jewel of the North,” Siegfried. “And straight to an extinction-level event.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Now I was just reading about an apocalyptic prophecy, wasn’t I?” He opened up Bob’s bag of holding before the sorcerer could protest and fished around for something. He withdrew the old tome that the party had discovered deep within Wave Echo Cave. “ The Chronicle of My Friend Lambrac the Damned,” Siegfried read the book’s title. “Written by Arthanas the Blade-King of Elembar, a rather obscure historical figure, all things considered. But the book itself, well, let’s just say that after reading it I would be having nightmares absent any supernatural force that has been plaguing Neverwinter.” “How so?” Varien asked. “This chronicle refers to another book, a sort of abyssal ledger, the text of which was enough to drive mages mad,” Siegfried said. “It was a sort of infernal prophecy that foretold the coming of the One Who Waits.” “The One Who Whats?” Varien said. Siegfried continued, warming to his subject. “This one was known by many names. The Charnel Walker. The Drowned Lord. The Dreadforged Fiend. His arrival would herald the birth of a new world, that he would then strangle in its cradle.” “Goodness,” Varien said. “Sounds like we need to find this book of Lambrac’s.” “This Lambrac also sent Agatha the Banshee this knife,” Siegfried pulled out the shard of the ise rune . “And suggested she commit suicide.” Siegfried pondered for a moment. “Didn’t your librarian friend suggest that Lambrac traveled somewhere north of the Spine of the World?” “I don’t know where she would have gotten that idea,” Varien said. “Radegast was geographically challenged and prone to making unfounded conjectures.” “Yes, but she had a way of connecting the dots that I think we could sorely use right now,” Siegfried said. He turned the book over and opened it, inspecting it. “Now, the book itself isn’t magical, and neither is this map.” He tugged at the map sewn into the cover of the book and unfolded it. There were no identifying marks on the map, save for some coded writing in the margins, but Siegfried recognized varying terrain types. He noted a stylized border marking that encompassed the northeastern quadrant of the map, including a forest and a river with a waterfall detail. The border scrollwork looked familiar somehow. “Now where have I seen this before?” Siegfried asked himself. He found himself groping for the dilapidated orc sketchbook he’d recovered from Wyvern Tor. He opened it to the elven sigil and noted several similarities between the crest and the border markings. “Interesting, it resembles but is distinct from this border work, which seems, if I’m reading this map correctly, to be the High Forest, which was in the southeastern corner of the ancient Elven empire of Eaerlann.” “Eaerlann?” Varien repeated. “Yes, or perhaps a successor state that survives to this day, which also means that this river,” Siegfried traced the line that bisected the map, “is the Delimbiyr River.” “Is that significant?” Varien asked. “Perhaps,” Siegfried said. The Delimbiyr River empties into the Sea of Swords south of Waterdeep.” He threw his head back and laughed. “What’s so funny?” Varien asked. “It’s unlikely that the ledger itself is causing the nightmares we experienced in Neverwinter and Helm’s Hold,” Siegfried said. “The ledger, however, speaks of a growing evil that eventually leads to a world-ending event. Arthanas made sure that this abyssal ledger was returned to its resting place and hidden away.” “And that’s funny how?” Varien asked. “It just means I know where we’re going next after we’ve concluded our business in the Sword Mountains,” Siegfried said. “Look here,” he pointed to a script in the map’s margins. “This reads “Mine hold is stout, and mine sword-arm points the way.” “Poetical,” Varien said. Siegfried nodded. “Yes, except that if I’m remembering my history correctly, the seat of the ancient human realm of Elembar is Delimbiyran, which is a ruin that sits astride the Delimbiyr River. We need to recover this abyssal ledger and learn enough about this ancient evil to destroy it. This necrodragon, or whatever is haunting Helm’s Hold or Neverwinter Wood, Lambrac’s ledger is the key to discovering its weakness and killing it once and for all.” “Raising dead dragons into undeath,” Varien mused darkly. “That sounds like the work of the Red Wizards of Thay.” “And you’ve encountered Red Wizards before in the vicinity, haven’t you?” Siegfried asked. Varien nodded. “At Old Owl Well, where they were digging around trying to harness an ancient evil. Sound familiar?” “What else do you know about the Red Wizards?” Siegfried asked. Varien shrugged. “They have been known to construct horrific necromantic summoning circles called Dread Rings.” “Wait,” Siegfried said. “A summoning circle?” “Yes,” Varien said. “Where the souls of human sacrifices are channeled into nefarious uses.” “How big do these Dread Rings get?” Siegfried asked. “Big enough to encircle, say, an entire city?” Varien frowned. “It’s hard to say.” “Wait!” Siegfried was flipping through his notes and came up with the Gilded Eye warrants. “Didn’t the Order of the Gilded Eye detail an alliance between the Red Wizards and the Ashmadai? Yes! Here it is!” He waved the warrant at Varien. “This says a faction of Ashmadai is allied with the Red Wizards of Thay in the Sword Coast North. The Thayan’s former leader, a regent named Sylora Salm, disappeared in Neverwinter Wood, and was replaced by Valindra Shadowmantle. The Thayans were somehow able to bring a faction of devil-worshipping Ashmadai into line, thanks to an artifact of some kind.” Siegfried frowned. “The Gilded Eye wasn’t sure what the two factions were up to, but Thay’s earlier attempts to create a Dread Ring in Neverwinter Wood in the early 1480s DR were well documented apparently. They also report that Thayans have been visiting local archives and libraries for unknown reasons.” Varien scowled. “I knew I should have spoken with Fadime while we were in Neverwinter!” “So then, what if this nightmare scenario is being caused by a Dread Ring that encloses Neverwinter, Helm’s Hold and Thundertree?” Siegfried shook his head. “I cannot believe that this problem has not been dealt with yet!” He fumed. “How could Neverember just let this evil fester? Were there no investigations by the Lord’s Alliance or the Order of the Gauntlet? It beggars belief.” “Well, who can we warn about this?” Varien asked. “There’s Kavatos Stormeye I suppose,” Siegfried said. “But what if he’s in on it? And the Lord’s Alliance has probably burned me by now. I’m not sure who our allies in Neverwinter might be at this point.” He stopped and frowned. “Wait.” “Wait why?” Varien said. Siegfried was up and searching through the packages that Talzu had arranged for him. He came up with a folded paper note. “I thought it strange that someone tucked this scrap of parchment in with my supplies rather than the usual embossed receipts.” “Oh, brother,” Varien said under his breath. Siegfried opened the note and read it.   You fought well in the tomb and had our backs. For that, I spared your safehouse. The General has it wrong about you. -        Knox   Siegfried smiled. “I knew Knox was one to watch.” He cast sending to Sabine’s top sergeant. The nightmares indicate a nationwide Dread Ring formed by Ashmadai and Thay. Trust carefully. This could not have been kept secret. Unless rulers kept it. Knox replied: We dealt a blow to Thay’s Dread Ring in Neverwinter Wood years ago. Yet I still dream of ashen battlefields and undead armies. This can’t be good. Siegfried sent another message: This one stretches as far as Helm’s Hold. My name will not be trusted in this discovery. Knox’s reply was swift: Then Tyr help us. I’ll do what I can to keep your name out of this while I investigate. Normal 0 false false false EN-CA ZH-CN X-NONE /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} “Tyr help us all,” Siegfried said aloud.