Session #33 - Questions, Questions, and More Questions

“Tarreson, where is your master interred?” asked Almont.

“Ah,” replied the servant.  “The mistress had him cremated, actually.  Concerns about the curse upon his body and all that.  Plus,” he paused and sighed, “there wasn’t much money left to arrange for a proper burial for such a man.”

“Are his ashes kept here?  I would like to see them.  Perhaps we can determine if any magic effects linger upon them.”

Tarreson looked at the cleric seriously for a few moments.  “I will ask the mistress.”  With that he turned and left.

“Almont, what are you…” Katla started before her eyes glassed over.  “Telus is reaching out to me,” she said softly.  Her lips continued to move, but no more sound came from her as she stared at the wall.

Tarreson returned holding an urn.  He was momentarily startled when he saw Katla.  “What… what… happened to her?”

“Having a chat with someone in Candlekeep, obviously,” said Kent as he poured a little liquid from a flask into his new shot glass.  He looked up at the servant.  “What does it look like?”

Tarreson made a hand gesture that Almont recognized as a superstitious attempt to ward against magic.  He held out the urn.  “Here are the master’s remains.  If you’ll excuse me, I prefer to not be around when magic is being conducted.”  

Almont took the container and Tarreson left.  The urn was a simple bronze vase with a treaded top.  He mumbled a brief incantation.  “No magic here, nor signs of a curse.”  With that he began to unscrew the top.

“Um, Almont, what uh… what are you doing?” Donyxn asked. 

The cleric reached to his belt and pulled a small empty vial.  Removing its stopper, he uttered a prayer to his god Kiri-Jolith and then scooped up a small amount of ash from the urn.  “Machil’s body was afflicted with this curse, and this is what remains of him.  These ashes may be of some use to us later.”

Kent slugged back his drink and shrugged.  Donyxn raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

By the time Katla finished her telepathic communication with Telus the urn had been resealed and the vial of ashes secreted into a holder on Almont’s belt.  Which was fortunate, because she certainly would not have approved.

“I told Telus about what we learned.  I asked for any information he can gather about the Haven of the Red Quill.  He will also inquire with Sylvyra to see if she can arrange for us to be teleported to the Daggerford region,” Katla said.

They gathered up the items they wanted to take, along with the urn, and headed back to the main room.  Yvandre and Tarreson were both there.

“Thank you again for your kindness, Yvandre,” Katla said.  “We will be taking these few things with us, but will certainly return them.”

“No need,” replied Yvandre.  “They are of no value to me.  Did you find any answers?  Where will you go next?”

“We have business with Thurstwell Vanthampur, and understand he lives nearby,” Katla said.  “Do you know him?”

A look of slight disgust crossed Yvandre’s face.  “I only met him once, briefly.  Very… odd.”  She shook her head.  “It is said that he keeps strange hours.  There is still infighting around the leadership of Baldur’s Gate, though despite his possible claim as the senior surviving Vanthampur, he seems to have no interest in political matters.”

During some further questioning Yvandre advised that she did not know who killed her father or specifically why.  She also confirmed that Machil had done business in the past with Tony Merlo, and that as far as she knew the half-elf was trustworthy, at least so far as those in his business could be.  She did not know the name Malek.

After saying their goodbyes the group departed, heading north toward the Vanthampur estate.  It was a fine day, the sun rising higher in the sky.  The streets in this part of the city were not nearly as busy as those in the lower part of town.  Most of the foot traffic appeared to be servants going about their daily business. 

They had been walking for about two minutes when Donyxn spoke.  “We’re being followed.”

“Aye,” replied Kent, continuing to casually look around as if he were out on a weekend stroll.  “Ever since we left Yvandre’s.  An elf and a human.”

“I’m not sure it’s a human,” Donyxn said.  “There’s something not right about it.”  

“Looks like they might have some friends,” Almont said.  About a hundred feet further up the road two men leaned against a wall, looking in their direction.  

“Ooh, candy!” Kent shouted and darted into a shop to their left.  Keep walking, he messaged them telepathically.  At least this curse brought with it some useful abilities.

A moment or two later he emerged from the shop, though the others could tell that this was an illusion of the rogue.  They played along and continued toward the two men further up the road.  When they were about 40 feet away, the two stepped from the wall and into the middle of the road.  

“Hey there, friend,” came Kent’s voice from behind them.  It was immediately followed by a high-pitched yelp.  They turned to see the dwarf standing directly behind the elf following them, his hand upon the elf’s shoulder and the tip of his scimitar in the its spine.  He had remained in the store and emerged when the elf and human had passed it.  “Perhaps we should all just sit down for a friendly chat.  What do ye say?”

The human-like creature walking with the elf threw it’s head back and roared an inhuman, guttural blast.  Its body bulged as it tore out of its clothing, its skin taking on a purple hue as the thing doubled in size, becoming a virtual mountain of muscle and deformity.

“Well that was unexpected,” said Kent.

“Kill them!” shouted the elf.  “They all carry the mark!  Kill them all!”

The two at the other end of the street also ripped through their clothing as they bulged into massive creatures of muscled hate.

“Fomorians,” Katla said, freeing her hands from her sleeves and tracing sigils in the air.  “This is not good.  Evil fey creatures.”

The elf slipped out of Kent’s grasp, but was immediately struck by a pair of arrows from Donyxn’s bow.  In a fluid motion the tiefling swung the bow around his back, drew the Sword of Zariel, and began to run toward them.  The elf responded by firing off four sparks of energy that slammed into Donyxn’s chest, slowing him momentarily but not stopping his advance.  

Things happened quickly after that.

A second elf stepped out from behind the two fomorians to the north.  Like his partner, this one was also a wizard and Katla and Almont found themselves surrounded by a ball of flame he conjured.  Katla darted out of the effect quickly, but Almont shouted in rage as the magic fire burned him for a moment.  When the flames whisped out of existence he saw that a townsperson had also been caught in the blast.  The man lay in the middle of the street, his clothes smoldering. 

The fomorian to the south backhanded Kent, knocking the dwarf back a dozen feet.  The two to the north threw large rocks at Almont and Katla, though both missed.  One, however, locked eyes with the cleric, who screamed in pain.  Looking down he saw his right leg shrivel, becoming thinner and at least a few inches shorter than his left.  

“Yes, kill them!” shouted the elf to the south.  “Ki…” The elf’s voice was cut off, along with his head.  Kent grinned manically, the blade of his scimitar held high in follow through from the decapitating strike.  In his left hand was a six-sided die.  As the dwarf whispered the life force leaving the elf’s body flowed into the small cube.  

The fomorian to the south roared in rage before it was interrupted by a spectral warhammer clocking it on the head.  It stepped back and looked confusedly at the seemingly animated weapon floating in the air, failing to see the very physical warhammer in the hands of the charging Almont as it struck its midsection with a dull thud.

To the north Katla fought fire with fire, throwing a fireball of her own at the elf and two fromorians.  She then turned and began to run south before blinking out of existence.

“They killed Kallax!” yelled the remaining elf.  “Don’t let them escape!”

Almont and Donyxn hacked and battered the fomorian to the south, the cleric’s blows taking it to its knees before the ranger took its head.  Kent rushed north to take on the other pair, which were lumbering their way, their bodies smoking from the fireball.  

Katla reappeared to their south, stepping out from behind a building and launching three rays of fire up the street.  All three struck the elf wizard.  “The Princess of Shadowglass is their master!” he screamed in pain.  “We must defeat them!  The Gloaming Court depends on us!”

Almont and Donyxn ran up the road to support Kent, and the three engaged in a close, bloody melee with the pair of giants.  The elf used magic missiles to pepper the trio as they fought before being engulfed in a second fireball from Katla.  

The smoldering elf staggered into the courtyard of a nearby home.  As Donyxn and Kent finished off the two giants, Almont ran in pursuit.  Rounding the side of the building he saw the elf pulling at the locked front door of the house.  The cleric threw a bolt of radiant energy, striking the elf in the back.  It bounced off the door and fell backwards, dead.

The streets had cleared during the short duration of the battle.  All that remained, other than the remains of their defeated foes, were the body of the person caught in the first fireball and a man limping off into a side street, blood running down his leg.

Everyone took a moment to catch their breath.  The battle had been intense and the all showed the effects.

Almont withdrew his holy medallion, uttered a prayer, and pressed it against his shriveled right leg.  It made a sizzling sound, and he bit back a scream of pain as his leg regained its former size and length.  

Donyxn and Katla entered the courtyard.  “Too bad,” said Donyxn.  “I would have liked to have asked them some questions.”

“Oh, we’ll be asking this one some questions,” Almont said as he walked over to the body.  Donyxn looked at Katla questioningly, but the sorceress just shrugged and followed.  

Almont rolled the elf onto its back, his hand on its chest as he uttered an incantation.  

Kent arrived and tossed a ring to Katla.  “Got it off the other elf,” he said, “along with this.”  He held up a coin purse and smiled at Donyxn, who nodded and grinned.  Kent then turned to look at Almont.  “Almont, you’re not bringing that thing back to life are you?  If I may remind you, it throws fireballs.  Besides, the last time you brought something back to life just to kill it was sort of, you know, questionable from an ethical standpoint.”

“Not life,” the cleric whispered, just as the elf’s eyes opened.  Kent and Donyxn both took a step backwards and instinctively reached for they weapons.  Almont looked into the elf’s eyes.  Its expression was placid and it was not breathing.  “I forced its soul back into its body for a few moments so we can ask it some questions.  Once it has answered, it will be free to leave again.”

“Oh, that’s a nice trick that,” Kent said, a slightly disturbing look of manic interest on his face as he rubbed the slightly glowing die in his left hand.  “Speaking to the dead… you’ll need to teach me that one, priest.”

Katla shook her head.  “Gross,” she said softly.

“Who is the Princess of Shadowglass?” Almont asked.

The elf’s mouth moved as it spoke, the voice taking on a distant, ethereal quality.  Otherwise, though, the body gave no signs of life.  “Nintra Siotta… a foul creature…”

“That name was written on Machil’s map,” Donyxn observed.

Almont nodded.  “Who sent you to kill us?”

“The Queen of the Gloaming Court will not abide the return of the princess,” came the reply.

“Most elves belief the Gloaming Court to be nothing more than a myth,” Katla said, looking troubled.  “Some believe it was once real, though only a few sects hold that it still exists.” 

Almont rolled up his sleeve and held his tattooed arm in front of the elf’s eyes.  “How do we remove the curse?”

“You don’t,” the elf rasped, its voice hinting at a trace of laughter.  “Your mission now is to release the princess.”

The elf clearly saw them as enemies.  Almont considered this before asking his next question.  “Where is the Haven of the Red Quill?”

“Delimbiyran,” it said.  “We… we found it too late.”

“I can only ask it one more question,” Almont observed.

“Am I the only one hearing this annoyingly shrill voice in his head?” Kent asked nonchalantly. 

Everyone turned to look at the dwarf.  “I’m sorry, but what…” Katla began.

“No, it is in my head too,” Donyxn said.  “Since the battle started.”

Katla furrowed her brow.  “What is it saying?”

“It’s going on and on about how we need to find the Scrivener and destroy it so we can release her, and if we will do then she will free us,” Kent said.  “And she keeps going on and on about it.  I wish she’d shut the hell up.”

Almont considered this and turned back to the elf.  “Where can we find the Scrivener?”

“The Scrivener is at the Haven of the Red Quill,” it said.  “He bound her to the book…”  The last word dragged out for seconds.  Almont offered a brief prayer to Kiri-Jolith to speed the elf’s soul on its way.

Kent cocked his head, trotted over to the corner, and looked back down the road.  “Sounds like the guard is on their way.  We best be off.”

They didn’t need convincing.  The four continued north.  The Flaming Fists were coming from the south and would surely stop when they came upon the carnage of the battle.  A small park area offered a brief respite and allowed Almont the time he needed to cast some healing magic on all of them.  It didn’t restore them fully, but at least took care of the worst of their injuries.

While the cleric did his incantations, Katla again went glassy-eyed.  When she snapped back to the present she shared what she learned from Telus.  “If we go back to Candlekeep, Sylvyra can teleport us wherever we need to go,” she said.

“That will cost us another day,” Donyxn observed.

“OR,” Katla continued, the emphasis showing she had not been done talking, “there is an elf mage named Keyla Vinysyus here in Baldur’s Gate who owes Sylvyra a favor.  We can ask for her at The Elf’s Song.”  

Donyxn smiled.  “Well that seems like a much better option.”

“There’s more,” said the sorceress.  “The Haven of the Red Quill is in the vicinity of an ancient city named Delimbiyran.  It was part of Phalorm, one of the three realms.  It was abandoned centuries ago, but the ruins are still there, both on the surface and underground.”

After some brief discussion they agreed on a general course of action.  They would continue on to Vanthampur’s, then head back to The Elf’s Song to inquire about Keyla Vinysyus and take some rest.  In the evening they would keep their appointment with Tony Merlo.

It only took two minutes to walk to the Vanthampur residence.  To call it an ‘estate’ felt like a bit of an overstatement.  However, it was one of if not the largest residence in Baldur’s Gate, taking up the equivalent of a city block.  An eight foot wall surrounded the property.  Two guards leaned lazily against the section next to the main gate, which stood open.  

The guards paid the party no mind until they were upon them.  Almont moved in front of the group purposefully, a stern frown on his face.  The guards turned as he drew close, though didn’t change their relaxed posture.  “What do you want, then?” asked one.

“You will tell you master that we are here to see him,” said the priest forcefully.

That got their attention, both the guards taking on more alert stances, their feet shoulder-width apart.  “Um, we weren’t told that the master was expecting visitors today.”

Almont approached the guard who spoke, only stopping when their faces were about six inches apart.  “Tell him Malek sent us.”

The guard pulled back his head, obviously uncomfortable, before turning to his companion.  “Go inside and let the majordomo know there are visitors here to see him, sent by someone named Malek.”  The other man nodded and walked into the compound.  Almont took a step backwards and crossed his arms, continuing to stare down the remaining guard.

Donyxn caught Kent’s eye and gestured with his chin toward the entrance.  Turning, Kent saw the guard rushing back and trying to straighten his uniform at the same time.  “Seems that got someone’s attention,” Donyxn said with a chuckle.

The guard emerged, looking sweaty and anxious.  “Please, come with me.  The master will come down to see you shortly.”  He gestured with his arm toward the gate, then turned and re-entered the courtyard.  The others followed, leaving the remaining guard outside the wall.  “I was remiss in not getting your names.”

“I am Almont, and this is Katla,” said the cleric, motioning toward the sorceress who walked next to him.  “The dwarf is named Kent and the tiefling is…”

Before Almont could say the tiefling’s name, Donyxn interjected.  “I am… I am Jahans.  Jahnas, ah… Jahnas Bloodcruise.”

Kent looked up to the sky and rolled his eyes.  Katla pretended to cough, using her hand to stifle a laugh.  Almont’s frown deepened.

“Uh huh, sure, Jahnas Bloodcruise.  Of course you are,” said the guard, who was obviously not even remotely misled Donyxn’s lie.  

The grounds we very well maintained, as was the outer structure.  The entire compound gave the appearance of old wealth.  As they climbed the three steps to then entrance the front door opened, a well-appointed servant making a slight bow and gesturing for them to enter.  He eyed their escort.  “You may go back to your post Lucas.  And next time the master has guests perhaps you will behave appropriately.”  The guard nodded sheepishly and tried to look like he wasn’t hurrying back to the gate.

The entry was decorated with a pair of tapestries, one depicting various historical members of the Vanthampur clan, the other showing a dragon flying above Baldur’s Gate.  

“Aye, isn’t that a beauty,” said Kent, his fingers running across the dragon tapestry.  “Such fine craftsmanship.”

“This way please,” said the majordomo has he walked past the group and through a doorway at the far side of the entry.  

They emerged into a larger room, one they recognized from their last visit to the Vanthampur house.  While it was familiar it looked a bit… disheveled, as if perhaps people were only going through the motions of keeping things clean and tidy.  “Please wait here.  The master will be down to see you shortly.”  With that, the servant left through a different doorway to the right, shutting the door behind him.

“Do you think Thurstwell will remember us?” Katla asked.  “We were not exactly gentle with him when we were last here.”

“Given the bonk he took on the head, I wouldn’t be surprised if the scrawny bastard didn’t remember his own name,” said Kent.  

Kalta made a tsk sound.  “Manners, Kent.  We are guests.”

“Ha!” Kent laughed.  “We certainly weren’t on guest behavior last time we were here.”

Donyxn was staring intently into one corner of the room.  “We’re not alone.”

Kent looked at the tiefling, then to the corner, squinting his eyes.  “What is it you see?”

“An imp.  It is simply watching us,” Donyxn said.  He nodded, his voice going quieter and deeper.  His smile widened, exposing his pointed teeth.  “That’s right, little friend, I can see you.”

Thurstwell was rumored to have ties to the infernal.  The party knew that these rumors were in fact true.  They had come to the house prior to the events that took them to Avernus, searching for clues about the whereabouts of the Shield of the Hidden Lord, a powerful magic relic that had the life force of a pit fiend trapped within it.  Imps were often used as familiars by wizards with ties to the Nine Hells, and they killed a half dozen of the little devils during their previous visit.

“Hello there.  Have we met before?”  The voice came from a stooped human who entered from the same door the majordomo departed through.  His black clothing was all of the highest quality, though each piece seemed to not fit correctly.  His grayish skin had a deathlike pallor.  He held a book closely against his chest with his left arm.

“Master Vanthampur,” Katla said in greeting, bowing her head slightly.  “We thank you for agreeing to see us despite our unannounced visit.”

Thurstwell looked at them each in turn, stopping to study Donyxn intently.  Tieflings, of course, carried infernal blood in their veins.  He turned back to Katla.  “Please forgive the lackadaisical behavior of my guards.  They will be disciplined.  They told me that, uh, Malek sent you?”  His voice rose at the mention of Malek’s name, and he tugged at his collar as if finding it hard to breathe.

“Perhaps your man misunderstood,” Almont said.  “Malek did not send us, though he did mention that you were acquainted.”

“Ah, well, yes, acquainted, after a fashion, I suppose,” Vanthampur said.  “He did some work for my late mother.”  Thurstwell turned and looked longingly at a wax statue along one wall that they party recognized as Thalamra, the former Duke Vanthampur.  They knew it was her since, after all, they had been the ones who killed her.

Almont reached into the Bag of Holding.  “We actually come bearing a gift, Master Vanthampur.  Something which we believe once belonged to you.”  With that he held out an engraved metal puzzle box, about four inches on each side.

Vanthampur approached.  “May I?” he asked.  Almont nodded and handed it to the wizard.  “Indeed, this box was part of our collection, though has been missing.  How did you come to acquire it?”  

“Well that’s quite an interesting story,” Donyxn began before Kent stomped on his foot.

Almont looked at Donyxn and then back at Thurstwell.  “True, though the important thing is that we are able to return it to you.”

“You have my thanks,” Thurstwell muttered, looking to the box, then to Donyxn, then back to Almont.  “Is this why you came?”

“Well, that, and we are hoping you might be able to provide us with some information,” said Almont.

“Information?  Me?  Oh, I doubt I would have much of interest to you.”

Almont reached back into the bag.  “We of course have also brought you a gift.  Something someone of your skills could surely make use of.”

“What is he up to?” Kent whispered out of the corner of his mouth.  Donyxn shrugged.

Almonth withdrew a Soul Bag.  Thurstwell’s eyebrows arched upwards.  “Well, isn’t that a fine rarity,” he half-whispered, a certain wonderment in his voice.  “Wherever did you come across it?  Hags will not part with these willingly.”

“Well, that was true in this case as well,” Almont said.  Thurstwell looked at the cleric.  “Fortunately that means that the previous owner will not be trying to retrieve it.  Please, take it.”

Thurstwell took the bag cautiously, but once it was in his hands his eyes devoured it greedily.  “A fine specimen.  I shall enjoy studying it to unlock its secrets.”

Katla shuddered slightly.

“About Malek,” Almont said.

It took a few seconds for Thurstwell to register that the cleric was speaking to him.  He looked at Almont.  “Ah, yes, Malek.  He is… um… well, he has a unique talent for acquiring things for others.  I have… um… well we have met previously, but I would not say that we are friends.”

“Understood,” said the cleric.  “But he did tell us that you would be able to contact him, should the need arise.”

“You… you met Malek?  You spoke to Malek?  And you’re still alive.  That is… interesting.  I hope for you sake you do not possess something he seeks.  Unless of course you intend on selling it to him.”

“Not at the moment.  For now our priorities do not conflict with Malek’s,” said Almont.  “Do you know where he is?”

Thurstwell shook his head.  “No, no.  I have no idea.” His tone was almost pleading.  “It is true, I can reach out to him, and even perhaps summon him, though it would tap my strength greatly.”  He thought for a moment.  “Do you need me to do so?”

“Not now,” Katla said.  “But it is good to know you can assist should the need arise.”

The wizard nodded.  “Should there be a need, yes.  And certainly if I summoned Malek so he could retrieve an item he seeks, he would likely reward me.”  He grinned at Katla, his yellowing teeth causing her to wince slightly. 

“We thank you for your offer, Master Vanthampur,” said Almont.  “And we too know how to show thanks to our friends, even new ones such as yourself.”  With that he withdrew a slender five-foot metal pole with a sharp tip from the bag.  “Do you know what this is?”

“Hells,” Vanthampur whispered, his eyes growing wide in wonderment.  “Is that… is that a hellfire javelin?”

“It is,” said the cleric.  “Acquired in Avernus itself.”

“And this… this is for me?”

“If you would have it.”  Almont extended his arm and offered it to the wizened wizard. 

Thurstwell took it gently, then closed his grip firmly around it, his eyes looking the weapon up and down.  He was only slightly taller than the javelin.  Almont doubted the wizard could effectively wield it as a weapon.

“I sincerely appreciate your generosity, my new friends,” Thurstwell said.  “My servant mentioned that the dwarf took a liking to the dragon tapestry in the entry.  Perhaps you would honor me by accepting it as a gift of my friendship with you.”

Kent’s eyes lit up.  He absolutely loved tapestries.