The Prophecy

Connors' Chronicles
My, what big teeth you have...

As the party sleeps soundly in their modest accommodations above Marina’s Magic Shoppe, the sly Westimus “West” Connors eyes pop open, and a fox like smile creeps across his face.

He artfully scoops up his copious amounts of treasure and sneaks out into the bustling Waterdeepien night, bound for the docks distract and his old stomping grounds.

With much haste he scales the final gate, and without making the slightest noise, leaps to the ground and finds himself back within the familiar confines of the docks. The moon is full, the air is rank, and an eerie wolves howl can be heard echoing in the distance.

The accustomed twists and turns of the various streets and back allies he knows so well lay before him. He knows that his old hideout is a little less than a mile from his present location, in the West end of the distract, perhaps he picked that corner for a reason other than for it’s security and seclusion?

The last known hub for the Thieves Guild, that he’s aware of, is in the far Northeast section of the distract. However, they’re notoriously paranoid, and headquarters could have changed half a dozen times since you’ve been gone. There’s also the fondly remembered residence of his old flame, a girl named Desmona, not too far from where he is right now.

Despite a certain amount of longing to at least see Desmona again there was no way West was going anywhere except his hideout so long as he had a pack full of loot.

With a deep breath, one part a longing to see Desmona though knowing he probably never will again, and two parts a healthy dose of trepidation at what probably awaits him in his hideout, he sets out, ever cautious and with weapons ready.

Nooks, crannies, rooftops, and shadows mark his path as he slowly and stealthily make his way to the secluded ramshackle building that served as his hideout for so many years. Much to his surprise he sensed no one following him, nor does it appear that anyone is staking out the building as it finally comes into sight as he scales the abandoned warehouse across the threadbare street. His lips curl into a grimace, he doesn’t like surprises, that is unless He’s the one doing the surprising.

Although the place seems dilapidated from the outside, he knows full well that looks can be deceiving. A lot of blood, sweat, and hard stolen coin went into overhauling the interior of the structure with various deadlocked safes, some of the most lethal traps he could get his greedy, dexterous hands on, and one very tasteful, comfy bed if he does say so himself.

Atop the warehouses roof he takes another deep breath. The air is salty, but not unpleasant this close to the shore. Men of all races can be heard working tirelessly in the various shipyards and loading docks even at this time of night. He gazes up at the sky and watches the clouds start to roll in with a slight breeze, it’ll rain tonight he thinks to himself, followed by the realization that he’s stalling. Whether he sees them or not, they’re certainly out there, waiting for him, and he can’t hide forever, even if he is so damned good at it. That final thought brings a smile to his lips, but he quickly sobers, gathers himself, and decides that it’s time.

Nobody wants to lug around a wet sack…. of loot. There is one back door that he didn’t even tell Jack (his back stabbing old partner) about – Thieves are, after all, thieves. He hefts the loot up onto his shoulder and shimmys down the drain pipe of the warehouse. Despite the numerous daggers tucked into his clothes and strapped to his wrists and ankles, his mind turns to his blackjack. West finds it difficult to contemplate murder, even for revenge. Not only could he maintain myself almost indefinitely inside his hideout should he be besieged, but he’s sure an underground passage he had installed which led into the sewer systems could serve him well.

West finishes stashing his hefty sum of coin in one of his safes, slams close the heavy adamantine door, and spins the dial for good measure. Back on his feet he moves to the East wall to check one of his “windows” which is in fact a rather ingeniously constructed serious of mirrors which function in a way similar to a periscope and allow an uninhibited view of the hideouts surroundings from a much safer perspective.

Everything seems clear…there, across the street, third floor window of the old tenement building. It was only for an instant but he’s certain he saw the business end of a mean looking crossbow, West darts back behind the wall. They’re here, they just must have not seen him go in…or maybe they did, and wanted to see how he did it, and now are going to get him on the way out as well as figure out for themselves how to loot the place! Perhaps he’s being paranoid, but either way, it seems prudent to finally put that trapdoor into the sewer to good use.

He checks the windows one more time. Damn, they’re not even hiding anymore, he counts at least five armed enforcers approaching the exterior of the building. “They definitely know I’m in here.” he thinks hurriedly. He’s confident he could take most of them out before they even got inside, and it would save him from having to worry about them robbing the place after he left, but that kind of bloody business was for assassins, anyways that’s what the traps were for. “If they figured out how to get into the inner sanctuary, were deft enough to pick all the locks, and clever enough to disarm all the traps, then hell, they earned it, and if not, well that’s their own damn fault!” he thinks with a chuckle. His amusement is cut short however as he hears the telltale creaking on footsteps on wood. “They’re in, time for me to get out.”

He slides the old carpet out of the way, and lifts up the wooden trap door, making sure to pull the carpet back as he lowers the door back over his head and descends into the little alcove he had installed. Once West was satisfied the door is secure overhead he gets to work prying up the purposefully unsturdy floorboards beneath him to reveal the next door. The gnomish contractor whom helped him construct many of the various “precautions” his hideout had to offer made it very clear he thought the trap door beneath West’s trap door was more than a little excessive, maybe he was right, but he’d take excessively paranoid over excessively dead any day of the week, thank you very much.

West finally pries up the last floorboard as the stench of the sewers bellow begins to assail his nostrils in earnest. He’s about to lower himself down when out of the corner of his eye he sees a large shadow brush by below and perhaps a faint grunt or growl? He hesitates, but the sounds of footsteps above are growing louder and more numerous. The possibility of danger below must outweigh the certainty of it above, right? His mind made up he takes his last big breath of clean air and hop into the sewers.

West descends into the sewers down a makeshift ladder, secure in the knowledge that both trap doors are sealed behind him. He pulls at his shirt, placing it up over your nose in a vain attempt to escape the smell, and climbs down the rest of the ladder. There’s about a ten foot drop at the end of the ladder, he lets go, and lands nimbly on his feet trying hard not to look down at whatever filth he felt squashed under his boot as he landed.

It’s been a long time since he traveled this route but if memory serves him, he’s got to have about four blocks to travel until there is any other entrance to the streets above, but about seven or so if he wants to travel far enough away from your hideout as prudence would require. Seven blocks wouldn’t be so bad, he thought to yourself, if it wasn’t seven blocks over terrain like this, climbing over rubble, crawling under low or collapsed stonework ceilings and trying to remember all the various twists and turns that will eventually lead him out. Not to mention having to avoid that dire rat, or whatever cast that shadow, he saw on the way in, they rarely travel alone and he’s got more than enough trouble to deal with already.

He traverses the first four blocks without much difficulty, and find himself at the nearest manhole to his hideout. He briefly considers using it, but it’s a fleeting thought. “I’d rather deal with the smell than the thieves guild tonight.” He decides, and just as he were about to continue something odd catches his eye. At the base of the ladder there’s a leather shoe, splashed with a bit of blood. It’s still bright red, so probably rather fresh. “Some poor, drunken sod must have fallen down into the sewer, doubt he got very far, if he survived the fall at all. Guess someone’s having a significantly worse night than I am.” West thinks to himself as a smile creeps across his lips and he continues on.

The smile is still on his face until after a few more blocks something else occurs to him and the smile quickly fades. “If he fell in, why was the manhole not uncovered? Perhaps someone came by afterwords, noticed it open and closed her up, least they suffer the same fate? Aww well, not my probl-” His thoughts are immediately interrupted when he turns the next corner and finds a body missing a head, an arm, and what appears to be a significant portion of necessary organs , oh, and a shoe, and he realizes it has unfortunately just become his problem.

In the moist humidity of the sewer he can see a sickly steam rising up from the recently gutted victim’s exposed torso. Fresh blood stains the walls and parts of the ceiling, it drips and runs down into the slowly flowing water waste that traverses the sewer. He cautiously approaches the body, rapier in hand, to get a better look at the wounds. They’re deep, and viscous. The gnash marks on the bones are large, and spread out, this was no dire rats, that’s for sure. Some of the blood splatter seems to form a haphazard trail leading North, heading the direction he traveled, as his gaze follows the trail into the distance it is eventually obscured by the darkness. “To the hells with it, I’ll take my chances with the closer manho-” again his thoughts cut off abruptly as movement catches his eye in the distance, in the direction of the blood trail. He strains his eyes against the darkness, but sees nothing. As they slowly adjust he can just make out what appears to be eyes. Large, pale yellow eyes, reflecting what little light there was down here. They blink, and before he consciously realizes what he’s doing he’s halfway back to the manhole, running faster than he’s ever ran in his life, and he can hear it chasing him, gaining on him, and it’s big. He turns a corner, than another, and the exit is in site. He leaps over the pile of rubble, grabs onto the rungs and pulls, the manhole is in site, just a few more feet, he’s almost there when he feels a terrible pain run up his leg, and suddenly the wind is knocked out of him as he realizes with great disorientation, that he’s on his back. It’s on top of him, his thoughts are racing, it’s growling, it’s spittle is clouding his eyes, West’s leg is in agony, the beast, it’s so hairy, some kind of animal, feels like it’s burning up its so hot to the touch, West’s rapier is still clutched tight in his right hand, and he thrusts out blindly towards the creature and feels his blade pierce the creature, he doesn’t know where he hit it, but the blade entered the beast without much resistance, it’s deafening howl hurts his ears, it’s gotten off him, he madly reaches for the ladder and scrambles up it as fast as he can, oblivious to the searing pain in his leg as it takes his weight during the climb. West takes one look down over his shoulder at the monster as he lifts the manhole cover, it’s a fleeting glace, and all he sees is a mass of blood and hair, teeth and claws, and those eyes, those chilling, pale yellow eyes…“No, EYE, just one eye, HAHA! I got that bastard right in the eye!” West thinks triumphantly as he staggers on to the street above. He makes for the nearest ally, and the blackness of the night sky seems to be clouding in around him as his vision narrows. “It’s not following me…” he mumbles as he falls to his knees near a pile of refuse. His eyes close, and he hears footsteps near by. “Who’s there!?” West tries to say but not much manages to come out, his last conscious thought is of the delicate, yet strong hands which gently begin lifting him up. “It’s not the monster, anything’s got to be better than the monster…right?”

When he wakes up, West is lying on a couch. A rather comfortable one at that. He’s almost forgotten about what just happened when the pain in his leg hits him with a vengeance, as if punishing him for not remembering. He’s just starting to get a sense of familiarity from his surroundings when a sweet voice says, “For a minute there, I thought I was never going to see you open those pretty green eyes again.”

West looks up and sees a striking figure leaning against the door frame. A stern, but never the less, warm smile lights her face, and it occurs to him suddenly just how much he missed that smile. He looks her up and down one more time, and as his eyes finally come to a rest locked on her own he says in a weak voice;


Family Ties
Welcome home.

Within the winding corridors and passageways of Vijaylommaxius’ enormous maze the party trudges on looking for answers, a way out, and with luck, the great copper dragon himself.

Dead ends being the least of their worries the adventurers survive countless deadly traps, battle fierce monsters, and slowly but surely make their way to the center of the maze. There they discover a large cage adorned with draconic symbols and keyholes on each of its four sides. The symbols read “4, 5, 6” and “7.” Within the cage they find a ferocious looking but curiously dormant minotaur with a large golden key hanging around its neck, on that key there is one final symbol, the symbol representing the number 8.

The party continues its beleaguered pace through the labyrinth, and with more than a few close calls finally recover the four keys they needed to release the brutish monster and get their hands on the final key, the key with the number 8 that presumably opens the massive arched doorway at the other end of the maze, the one with a matching 8, their way out.

The keys are inserted into their waiting keyholes, turned with a rhythmic click, and after a whirling of unseen gears and a crackle of magic the minotaur opens its eyes, bares its teeth, lets out a deafening roar. Hot, pungent breath erupts in a visible puff from its nose, it stomps its hooved feet into the stone floor beneath it, and charges with an indomitable fury. The creature lowers its head and before anyone can react Celdir takes the full brunt of the charge, gored with both of the monsters horns. Celdir’s eviscerated body is sent tumbling over the creatures back and lands on the ground behind it, where it remains, motionless. As physically powerful and intimidating as the creature was, it proved no match however to Sara’s magic and before it can wreak any more havoc she puts the beast into a deep magical slumber that North ensures it’ll never wake up from as he lights the Minotaur afire. With the final key in hand, and a recently healed, if not a bit shaken, Celdir in tow, the weary party finally approach the massive door with the big draconic “8” on it. With the key inserted the door slides open, and a gust of dusty air rushes out to greet the adventures. With trepidation they slowly approach the large eerily dark room they uncovered. North ignites a sun rod and to their astonishment the light reveals a wealth of treasure the likes of which they never could have imagined!

“This must be the dragon’s horde!” North says with excitement and enters the room only to be immediately lifted off his feet and sent sailing backwards into the maze landing prone on the ground as a powerful gust of wind rushes towards him. With a ground shaking crash something very, very large lands on the stone floor within the treasure room, and for a moment all is silent. Max peers into the waiting darkness and the colossal, copper encrusted head of Vijaylommaxius is trust into the maze, barely making it through without scraping against either side as it passes through the large archway!

His huge emerald green eyes sparkle with benevolent mischief as he stares directly at Max, and bellows in an impossibly deep, gruff voice,

HAHAHA I knew you’d come, welcome home Bryn Kane!


Sometimes it's better to not to remember...

Sara’s prophetic dreams proved more of a curse than a blessing this morning, as she woke up in tears. A dream of a young Krimsyn Kane, impaling a beautiful women, and throwing her over a cliff, landing at the feet of a familiar face, a face hard to recognize however, warped in anguished rage. She pulled herself together, descended into Marina’s shop and found Maxius, the owner of that familiar face. After relaying the tragic dream to him, the party decided to seek out the great wyrm, Vijaylommaxius, looking for answers, and with luck, his assistance in their imminent confrontation with Lord Kane.

After tracking down Sparx, the self proclaimed red dragon disciple, working as a low level enforcer for the thieves guild within the docks, the party managed to procure some valuable information, the last known location of the elusive dragon, a place known as Everland, up in the Nether Mountains.

The adventures borrowed some horses from the city of Waterdeep, and began the arduous journey. Along the way, the group was accosted by an opportunistic bandit demanding a toll, but Celdir the monk, made it painfully clear that any attempt to collect would not go very well for him.

As the party continued, the closer they got to the mountains, the more frequently Max began to receive jarring flashes of memory, they we’re on the right track, and they were getting closer. Finally, after almost two days of travel, a familiar landmark appeared in the distance, a small cliff at the base of the mountains. Max was compelled to dismount, and approach this site, a place he had been before, but he did so with great trepidation. With each step closer to the cliff, his flashes of memory grew longer, and more detailed, and as the detail increased, so did the overpowering feelings of loss and despair.

He saw a women. A beautiful, blond haired women, being violently subdued by Krimsyn Kane, a Krimsyn who had yet to receive his viscous scar. Krimsyn’s face was racked with pain, a sadness that seemed matched only by the beautiful women whom he had held by her hair. With a tear streaked face she said simply “Please…” in an echoing whisper. Suddenly a crimson streaked katana blade burst from her chest, and as a single drop of blood fell from it’s tip on the grassy cliffs edge its crystal clear twin fell from Kane’s eye. Max, who was standing in the field below, opened his mouth wide and let out a ferocious, miserable, tormented bellow, and Krimsyn let her go, her limp body tumbling over the cliff and into the grass below, landing but a few feet from Max.

As these memories flooded him, the party watched in apprehension, gazing at their friend down on his knees, at the same cliff from his memories, with the same grassy plains, and gray overcast sky, the only difference being the wooden grave marker, on which Max’s hand rested, as overwhelming waves of grief came crashing down upon him. On that grave there was one word carved with exquisite care; Rinoah, and on that hand that rested on that grave there was a mark, the kind of mark that’s left when a ring you always wore is missing.

Eventually, they gathered their composure and continued their journey to the lair of Vijaylommaxius, they were very close now, Max knew, for he was home now.

They came upon a large, ornately carved stone archway, enormous doors blocking their path, which Max opened easily, he remembered how, and inside, they found outside. Tall, perfectly trimmed hedges walled them in as the stone archway closed, then promptly disappeared behind them.

“And so it begins.” Max chuckles to himself as they take their first steps into the great hedge maze of the noble copper dragon. Through endless twists and turns the party comes across massive locked doors, chests with keys, traps, monsters, and hopefully when all is said and done, a new and powerful ally, Vijaylommaxius himself.

Setting the Trap
and we're the bait!

The party was awoken bright and early by Captain Rowen who, as promised, returned with word on Krimsyn, and why he and his henchmen have been after the group. Apparently there’s a prophecy, pieces of which have been experienced by the Red Witch Morrigan and the parties resident prophetess Saraswati. The prophecy seems closely tied to the return to power of an old and terrifying god of death, Nerull. This God of Death seems to have chosen certain mortals and named them his chosen few, for reasons not yet entirely understood. It is clear however that Krimsyn’s actions are at the behest of this god, and that the Sword Coast, and all those living within, are in grave danger.

Minerva explain that shes been working closely with the guard and watch here in Waterdeep, and since Krimsyn’s outright domination of Luskan, Waterdeeps various merchant caravains have been going missing. Particularly wartime provisions. The Lords of Waterdeep have charged Minerva with putting a stop to this, and her plan is to lay a trap for the dangerous warlord, by outfitting a caravan with what will appear to be a lightly guarded, yet well stocked wagon train of weapons and supplies that Lord Kane won’t be able to resist. Hopefully to his surprise however inside he will not find weapons, but instead our dauntless detachment of do-gooders will be ready and waiting.

This plan however will not be easy, or cheap, and after a hefty sum of gold the party generously donated to the cause, some of which won in rousing games of Liars Dice against the brothers Trixsy and Dixsy over at the Grinning Lion, the party was ready to head out, sans West, who decided to slip out and investigate his old stomping grounds within the docks.

Upon setting out the caravan, the party, and a small contingent of guards were waylaid by crashing trees blocking the only road through the thick forest. Four of Krimsyn’s notorious Blackguard emerge and began making short work of the guards. The party spring their surprise attack, and after a tumultuous melee, the fatigued and wounded heros dispatch the last of the fearsome Blackguards.

“We did it, we won, I can’t believed we survi-” shouts an ecstatic guard, but he’s cut off as a final tree crashes down, killing him instantly. From the dense underbrush Lord Krimsyn Kane himself appears, and approaches the weary adventurers.

“I thought something seemed a little odd about this caravan.” He says through a shark-like grin. “I’m not surprised to see you all here, together. Haven’t you ever wondered why exactly it is, that everywhere you go, you’re surrounded by death and destruction? Haven’t you looked at the other people around you, those sheep, those cattle,” He snarls derisively, “and known you were not like them, as they blindly stumble through their pathetic lives avoiding trouble and confrontation at all costs!? Effectively wasting what precious little time they have in this world doing NOTHING!” The hatred and passion in his eyes is almost hypnotic, as the party listens. “You are not like that, you seek out trouble, you meet it head on, and you conquer it, and all who stand in your way! THAT is why my master chose you! When you fight, and you kill, you don’t cower away like most do, you get even stronger, you kill even more, and even better! THAT is why my master chose you!”

An argument breaks out, and eventually Cadè stands up to Lord Kane with a contemptuous comment about his mother, and making her scream the night before, at which point the final surviving guard explodes in a cloud of crimson gore, and his pulped body falls limply to the ground. Pulling what few pieces of him remain off of her black studded leather armor, Kane’s vampiric sister emerges from the shadows, and replies to Cadè’s witticism, “I find that hard to believe since I killed that bitch myself, just like I killed your mother in fact, she screamed too actually…in agony, the night I slit that fat cows throat, and she screamed a lot louder.”

Finally, appearing as a powerful wizard of the Arcane Brotherhood North approaches Krimsyn, and defiantly proclaims that Krimsyn and his master will not succeed, that somehow, someway, they will stop him.

Krimsyn laughs, “Is that so? You and what army?”

“THIS ONE!” Bellows the Bitch of the Beat Minerva Rowen astride a powerful looking war horse accompanied by Marina, Vas, the deadly dark elf, Eliat the touched, and a full squadron of battle ready Waterdeepien soldiers. The small touched sorcerer raises her hand, and with a fierce smile, it erupts in magical flame, “Hi, I’m Eliat!”

Krimsyn calculates the dramatically updated odds, and slowly raises his finger to his lips in an eerie “shushing” gesture as he and his sister disappear into the woods from where they came.

“We did it,” exclaims Rowen triumphantly, “we stood up to that tyrant, and we won. For the first time we showed the people of Waterdeep that Lord Kane is not the invincible monster he clearly wanted us to think he was. Together, we did it, and I’m proud of all of you, but…this is only the beginning, as for you,” She motions to the party,”The Lords of Waterdeep would like to meet you, and thank you personally!”

They make their way back to the city, and upon arriving back at Marina’s for some well deserved rest, Max notices a copper dragon totem, identical to the one hanging around his neck. Stamped to the back is a message, “If you’re dead, than I’m sorry, if you’re not, I’m going to kill you.”

A Familiar Situation
"Hi, I'm Eliat!"

The story so far…

The party starts their day within the Grinning Lion tavern, eager to set out and help Marina locate Prufrock. After a…hearty…breakfast, the party realizes Cadè seems to be on another drunken adventure, disappearing in the night seems to be a habit of this party.

North returns to the party, though he is understandably met with some resignation. He introduces them to a once powerful member of the Arcane Brotherhood, who seemed to have survived the purging of the council, at least in body, his mind however…

Not much of his ravings are recognizable, but he does continue to mutter the name Nerull, and that the dead are coming. Marina takes him into custody, explains to the party that Nerull is the god of the dead, and sends the party on their way.

Along the road out of town, the group is accosted by a trio of Luskan soldiers, eager to please their new lord and master, Krimsyn Kane. The heroes make short work of them thanks primarily to some well placed spells from Sara, and a flying rogue. They prove, however, to not be as adept at interrogation as they are combat, and only one terrified soldier survives the process.

He reveals to them that Lord Kane has forced them all to swear fealty under penalty of death, and everyone is far to scared to revolt, particularly after they were shown what happens to those who do.

They party discusses what to do with the unfortunate soldier, discussion leads to argument, argument interestingly leads to a bit of back story show and tell, the most notable bombshells coming from Max, who learns that he’s “named” after a great and powerful copper dragon, and the monk with his question, “Perhaps now would be a good time to tell you of the horde of zombies…”

They continue and find themselves among some ancient ruins, not far inside is a disheveled Prufrock trying to gather the various familiars he inadvertently released into the dungeon.

With some more savvy spell casting the party easily gathers the animals, as Eliat the touched returns. She explains to the audacious adventures that shes been here exploring these old ruins and the mysterious solar powered riddle golem.

According to the golem, answering three out of the five riddles he will present them with, will allow the party to proceed deeper into the dungeon, and into more riches!

Making shorter work of the riddles, than they did the soldiers, the quick minded party finds they just scored quite a treasure including a fortune of gold, precious stones, two immovable rods, and an Amulet of Wordtwisting!

One their way back to the Crown of the North, they party stumbles upon the soldier they interrogated…or whats left of him. Further investigation reveals two sets of footprints, one small, one entirely too large..whomever could they belong too?

They make their way back, divide their treasure and call it a night in a room above Marina’s shop she was gracious enough to lend the party. Rest is deserved, and much needed, for tomorrow’s a new day, and there’s a cat to find!

So this is Waterdeep?
Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Sara is in a throne room occupied by Luskan’s deadly new sovereign Krimsyn Kane, and his vampiric sister.They discus Morrigan’s escape, and the necessity of keeping the rest of the prophecy out of the hands of “the others”

They approach Sara, and she tumbles backwards, falling to her imminent death as she suddenly wakes up, safe (relatively) and sound in camp outside Luskan.

She explains her dream, which is received dubiously at best, and the party continues their journey towards the city of splendors, minus North, who is mysteriously missing as the party sets out.

A serendipitous, gold piece laden trail leads the party into a cave occupied by a green dragon wyrmling, and springing it’s trap lets loose a devastating cone of acid.

The monk, and the rouge narrowly avoid the burning gaseous acid, but Cadè unfortunately takes it full force knocking him to the ground.

Seeing an opportunity, the monk leaps onto the beast’s back, wraps his arms around its neck, and wrenches the dragons head up.

Once recovered Cadè uses his musical talents to lull the animal into submission, as Sara finally enters the fray. She sees the monk straddling the creature, Max and West adamantly shushing her, and the bard apparently serenading the wyrmling , decides it’d be best if she left.

Max and West take a few good shots at the dragon, but the last things that passes though it’s mind is one of Cadè’s crossbow bolts.

The party leaves the cave with a hefty load of treasure and finally make their way to Waterdeep.

Once there Rowen says her goodbyes, but promises to return if she finds out anything about this Lord Kane and why he’s after them.

The party makes its way to The Grinning Lion tavern, and after mingling with its numerous denizens finds out quite a bit of town gossip, such as a series of rapes going on in and around the docks, a local thieves guild is running a rather successful protection racket headed by a new rising star, Jack, there seems to be some religious trouble in the nearby town of Longsaddle, and a drow woman has been captured and is about to be put to death in the richer part of the ward.

The owner of the tavern shows the group a flier placed on the wall asking for help finding a missing cat, and offers a reward.

While a drunken Cadè wanders around town alone, and Sara gets “acquainted” with a dwarven tavernmaster, the rest of the party inadvertently meet a friend of North’s, the elven proprietor of the local magic shop, Marina.

She humbly asks the group of intrepid adventurers to look in on her assistant, Prufrock, who went missing while delivering a shipment of familiars to a gnome sorcerer named Eliat.

Leaving the magic shop they come across a member of the thieves guild hustling a shop owner for money, although rescuing the wayward shop owner, they learn that Jack and his protection racket are a bigger problem in this town than anyone realized.

Afterwords, they round up Sara and Cadè and make their way to the perilously positioned drow, tied to a stake surrounded my murderous religious fanatics, predominantly followers of Pelor. Cadè manages to converse with her, learning that her name is Vas Fre`Helvi, and between his shrewd distractions and Max’s diplomatic address the the fanatics leader, the party is permitted to leave with Vas, and deal with her privatly.

Having no intention to actually live up to their promises of punishment, the party helps escort Vas safely out of town.

They head back to the Grinning Lion to get what sleep they can before setting off in the morning to investigate Prufrock’s disappearance.

The Night of the Prophecy
A lot can happen in one night.

The Dragon Shaman woke up strapped to a wooden operating table somewhere in a sewer with no memory of who or where he is. After a quick look around the room he finds what he believes to be his backpack, but who can be sure.

Inside he finds a copper medallion, in the stylized shape of a dragon’s head, an inscription on the back reads “Vijaylommaxius”

On the way out, he is attacked by two large, humanoid shaped rat creatures, one of them is carrying something…something familiar.

He roars ferociously as they approach, and stops one in its tracks, the other however, is not impressed, but inadvertently slams into his cowardly sidekick, sending him tumbling into the sewage below, along with that deadly looking scythe he had on his back.

Max throws one of his acid flasks at the sickly beast, and notices, as it writhes in pain, that the strong acid begins to wear away at the ancient stone of the bridge. With another acid flask, Max crumbles a good portion of the bridge and it, and the wererat, plummet into the foul runoff.

He reclaims the scythe, and learns from the bedraggled wererat, of his master, Trainair. After an unexpected and unfortunate encounter with some wayward Luskanites, Max makes it to the surface of the city, only to be introduced to Captain Minerva Rowen, and promptly arrested.


Up in the mountains along the Spine of the World sits a cloistered monastery. Within, an apprentice trains with his master. After a grueling spar the solitary, tattooed apprentice returns to his quarters only to be abruptly startled by his masters agonizing bellow.

He quickly returns to the courtyard where he finds his master leaning against the battlements of the monastery’s walls clutching a terrible wound on his neck. Gruesome moans and wails fill the air, and as the tattooed monk pears over the wall, he narrowly escapes joining his masters fate as one of the hundreds of zombies clamoring against the walls nearly grabs him.

Thinking quickly, the fated monk rushes to his masters quarters and searches for an alternate route out, and finds a key, and his masters journal, outlining his secret passage in and out.

After a quick foray to the supply room, he makes his escape, belongings in hand, and narrowly makes it through the trap door as the zombies begin to clamor over the wall and his newly arisen master is hot on his heals.

Upon reaching the end of the escape route tunnel, the monk discovers he’s too late to save his doomed schoolmates, as they join the growing legion of the undead.

He heads for Luskan, perhaps the city guard can help.


The Half-elf bard lies asleep in his room, dreaming of lazily rowing down a peaceful forest stream with a beautiful blond elf woman. As his love song is reaching its crescendo, she lets out a blood curdling scream!

He sits up in bed, covered in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest, her wail still ringing in his ears. Alas, it was all a dream, back to be- The scream rings out again, that same scream, a familiar scream!

As he races down the richly tapestried hallway of his family’s noble estate, and into the great hall, he finds the origin of that terrible shriek.

His mother’s body lies limp, throat town out, in the arms of a pale, beautiful, dangerous looking woman. She looks up at him, with cold, predatory red eyes, and wipes his mothers blood from her mouth. Her two fangs glint in the moonlight that pours through the wide open front doors.

Two men in black armor stand to either side of her, and around them lie the estates guards, or what’s left of them.

“Kill him.” she says.

The vampire, after brutally murdering his mother, and the house staff, leaves the estate of Cadèmas the bard, and heads North, towards the Host Tower of the Arcane, leaving him at the mercy of her two blackguards.

With a savvy shot from his repeating crossbow, Cadè shoots the chandelier from the ceiling, crushing one, and sending the other leaping to the floor, missing certain death by inches.

Upon fleet feet, he runs to the nearby dog kennels, and releases the hounds upon his wayward intruder.

One by one he dispatches the dogs, but he pays for it, and while the few remaining have him on his knees, the bard sings him a farewell lullaby to the tune of “Bolt between the eyes”

He grabs his gear, and is on the way out when he is accosted by his father and the city guard. Upon seeing his burning mansion, and dead wife, he explodes, blaming his son, “You half breed piece of filth!” he screams. “This is all your fault!” rings out across the estate as the guard drags him away, the remaining guard place Cadè under arrest.


High atop the Host Tower of the Arcane, the seat of true power within Luskan a budding Beguiler, Saraswati, and her loyal friend and roommate, Sharleyan are grudgingly roused out of bed by the sounds of commotion all throughout the tower.

Sara hears her tutor, Master Cayleb Ahrmahk arguing with a gruff, and uncompromising women outside her door. The women seems to be looking for Sara, and Cayleb is holding her back. Sara grabs her gear and bursts out of her room, Sharleyan ever by her side.

The women outside her door is a tall, dark, and gorgeously terrifying vampire, one that a certain bard might be familiar with. She makes a move for Sarabut a spell from Cayleb stops her, for now, and sends Saraswati and Sharleyan running higher up the tower to avoid their pursuers.

After meeting up once again with Cayleb, he informs Sara that Morrigan, the mad prophetess, has been calling for her all day.

“Well aren’t you popular today.” The absent minded wizard musses as he leads her to Red Reach, Morrigan’s niche at the top of the tower.

Inside they find Morrigan, mad indeed, a tangled mass of blood red hair, and velvet fabrics which pour from every crevice of the room, spewing nonsense and gibberish in a wild daze.

She approaches Sara, on the verge of hysterics she whispers, “He’s coming…he’s coming Saraswati, he’s coming FOR YOU!”

Then she wakes up.

She finds Cayleb, and convinces him her dream is a warning, elements of that dream seem to disturb him very much, and with Sharleyan, they’re off to see The Red Witch, as he called her.

Morrigan, much easier to speak with this time around, though no less cryptic, confirms Sara’s worries, that they are indeed in danger, and that “He” is coming for her.

She seems to allude, rather enigmatically, that Sara herself may be a budding prophetess, and sends her on her way.

She doesn’t make it to far, when she’s confronted by the vampire from her dream, and is captured.


Westimus “West” Connors, the rouge, is working for the family of Heathcliff and Helga Rockbottom, on their farm in Barrow Fields, when a nasty little gnome, and his terrifyingly large companion, the half-orc Horse, dramatically make an appearance, calling out for him from the center of town.

Heathcliff hides West away and tries to reason with the new arrivals, but the argument leads to violence and the gruesome twosome begin burning down the town, one house at a time.

Before they can cause much damage, the honorable thief reveals himself, and is escorted out of town under lock and key.

He’s brought to Luskanand thrown in jail, where he meets Sara, Max, Cadè, and a new face, a charming mage named North.

Captain Rowen explains that she’s no idea why she was ordered to round the group up, but promises to get some answers, and leaves for the Host Tower.


The monk has made it to town, and comes upon a woman being raped and beaten by a filthy drunkard, but decides to leave her to her fate.

In the distance the Host Tower is obliterated by a deafening explosion that rocks the city, and utter chaos breaks out. He hurries to the city guard municipal building.

Upon arriving he meets the party and Rowen returns more confused than ever. This Monk is one of the men she’s been ordered to look for as well!

They all learn from North that the Arcane Brotherhood, the true masters of Luskan, have been compromised, and are presumed dead, slaughtered by one man, one terrible, powerful man…the man that walks right through the door, surrounded by his henchmen, the gnome, Horse, the vampire, and proclaims himself to be the new Lord of Luskan.

After persuading Rowen to swear fealty, he orders her to kill them, and leaves.

She disobeys, and announces that they’re all leaving.

“We’re headed to Waterdeep, tonight!”

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


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