Session #34 - Daggerford

The walk back to The Elf’s Song was uneventful, though they took care to avoid the area of the battle with the fomorians and elves.  A handful of people had been in the area when the fight started and they did not want to take the risk of being recognized, which would definitely result in some forceful questioning by the Flaming Fists.  

At the inn they inquired with the barman about Keyla.  He sent a boy, who was behind the bar cleaning mugs, to let Keyla know she had visitors, and suggested the party have a drink while they waited.

The tavern portion of the inn was nearly empty at this time of day, the only occupants a pair of human merchants sitting in one corner and paying the group no mind.  They got their drinks at sat at a table on other side of the room.

“I wish that shrill witch would get her voice out of my damn head,” Kent muttered.  Almont frowned deeper than normal while Katla studied the dwarf with concern.  Both were startled when he shouted, “Enough with you witch!”

The two merchants turned to regard them, as did the bartender, but a toothy smile from Donynx convinced them all that this was none of their concern.

“Have you tried speaking to the voice?” Katla asked.

“Aye.  She just prattles on and on about the same drek.  ‘Free me from the book,’ blah blah blah.”  He drained the remaining half mug of ale.  “Barkeep, another if you don’t mind.”

The front door opened an a slight figure entered.  She pulled her hood back to reveal an elven face lined with age.  Elves were notoriously long-lived, the oldest of their kind reaching almost a millennia in age while generally retaining their youthful appearance, so it was a rare thing indeed to see one visibly aged.

“Never seen an old elf before,” Donyxn whispered.

“Nor have I ever seen a tiefling graced with angel’s wings,” the elf replied.  She grinned mischievously at Donyxn’s discomfort.  “I am indeed old, but my ears work just fine.”

Katla stood and offered a formal bow.  “Apologies, Keyla.  My friends mean no disrespect.”  As she rose out of her chair she noticed that Keyla’s cloak was held by a Harper pin, identifying her as a member at the same semi-secret organization as Katla.

“It is nothing, child,” Keyla replied.  “I have been called much worse than ‘an old elf’, trust me.”

Keyla joined them, the bartender arriving unbidden with a cup of tea for the elf.  They told her the entire story, from finding the book to the present, showing their tattoos as well.  While the mage did not have an insights as to how to remove the curse, she confirmed that she could teleport them.  However, she cautioned that while she could guarantee them a safe arrival in Waterdeep, where a teleportation circle existed, sending them to other locations carried with it certain risks.  She was familiar with a location in Daggerford called the River Shining Tavern and felt it likely she could successfully send them there, but they had to understand that teleportation, when not using an established circe, always carried with it the risk of finding oneself somewhere other than the desired destination.

The party agreed that time was of the essence, and while Waterdeep was the safe choice, it would also involve another day of travel from there to where they believed the Haven of the Red Quill to be.  Given how quickly the curse seemed to be progressing, time was of the essence, so they asked Keyla to send them to Daggerford.  But first they needed to pay a visit to Tony Merlo.  Additional magic items might prove useful in what was to come.  Keyla agreed to come back to the inn later in the evening to send them on their way.

They arrived at the Low Lantern as the sun began to dip below the horizon.  Tony was seated at the same table as he was during their last visit, and they quickly got down to business.  As promised Tony procured a dozen magic bolts for Kent’s pistol crossbow, as well as the fancy sword Donyxn requested, which turned out to have magical properties as well.  He was unable to acquire the belt of giant strength Almont asked for, but did have the next best thing - a pair of gauntlets of ogre power, which would boost the cleric’s strength, making him even more formidable when wielding his warhammer.  In exchange the party traded a pair of magical weapons, a glaive and Almont’s trusty skull-headed mace, as well as ring of protection and a pearl of power.  Tony arguably got the better end of the deal, but the items they traded were of limited use to them, so they were happy with the outcome.

Back at The Elf’s Song later that evening, Keyla led them to a private room.  “Are you ready?” she asked.  

“Aye,” said Kent, smiling.  “After all, what’s the worst that could happen?  It’s not like we’re going to find ourselves inside an active volcano or something, right?”

Keyla frowned slightly.

“Um, right?” Kent asked, a bit more seriously this time.

“Teleportation is all about visualizing the destination,” Keyla said.  “So perhaps it is not wise to put images in my mind of places that you do not want to arrive at.”

Kent gulped hard.

They arranged themselves in a semi-circle and Keyla began her incantation.  Surprisingly such a powerful spell required only a few seconds to cast.  The room blurred into a rainbow of colors momentarily before those colors began to resolve themselves again.  

The party found themselves in a small square facing a building.  The sign hanging above the door read River Shining Tavern.  Kent exhaled loudly.  

They were now in the town of Daggerford, the closest settlement to the Haven of the Red Quill.  The town was walled, with a keep set in the western quarter.  Docks along the river to the south were filled with small trading boats.

As they dined they spoke with Thalia, who ran the tavern.  She was not able to provide them with much in the way of useful information, but did tell them that the dwarf smith named Kromich was probably the most knowledgeable about the region’s lore.

Like many small-town taverns, this one was also an inn, so they secured rooms for the night.  The next morning Kent and Donyxn found themselves covered with even more tattoos.  At this point the only parts of their bodies unmarked were their faces, hands, and legs below the knee.  More troublingly, neither seemed to be able to effectively use their more powerful magical items, which seemed inert in their hands.  The curse did not seem to progress on Almont or Katla, however, for reasons that were unclear.

Kent was agitated.  “We need to go.  We need to go now,” he said insistently, pacing rapidly back and forth.  “I need to get this damn voice out of my head.”

“Let us see if the smith has any information first,” Almont responded.  

“Fine,” said, Kent.  And walked out the front door of the tavern.

“The voice is incessant,” Donyxn said by way of explanation, standing and heading toward the door.  “Kent seems to feel it more than I, but I too feel the need to get to the Haven of the Red Quill, and sooner rather than later.”

Almont and Katla exchanged concerned glances and followed the dwarf and tiefling out the door.

Daggerford was not a large town and it only took about a minute to walk to the blacksmith shop, which was along the town’s wall and just off one of the gates.  Black smoke rose from the building’s chimney and an old anvil mounted to a stump sat outside the door.  

Kent was already speaking with Kromich when Almont and Katla entered.  The smith wore a thick leather apron and even at this early hour his face was smudged with soot.  A younger dwarf rhythmically operated a bellows fanning the flames of an open coal forge, looking at the new arrivals with the practiced disinterest that only the young can exhibit.  

“Aye, I’ve been to Delimbiyran,” Kromich said to what had obviously been a query from Kent.  Kent was pacing back and forth manically, Kromich following with his eyes.  “I took my son there once as well.”  He turned to the younger dwarf.  “Isn’t that so?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe,” came the indifferent reply.

Kromich sighed and turned back to the group.  “You won’t find what you’re looking for there.”

Kent held his head in his head as he continued to walk around the shop.  Katla watched him for a few seconds before turning to Kromich.  “And why would you say that, master smith?”

“Adventurers are always going there seeking magic and coin.  And they always come back empty-handed, if they come back at all,” he said.

“We do not seek treasure.  We seek a cure.  For a curse,” said Almont.  The cleric pulled out Machil’s map.  “We have been told to seek the ruins here.”  He pointed at the red X drawn on the map.

Kromich walked over to the table, wiping his hands on a rag.  “Mmm, no.  That’s close, but the entrance to the underground is…” He looked about the table, picking up a round-tipped awl, which he used to make the impression of a smaller X on the map, just below the one in red.  “There.  That’s where you’ll find the ruins and a way underground.”

“Kromich, do your recall an adventurer named Strum?” Almont asked.  “He is my mother’s cousin, and the last we heard he was in this area.”

Kromich laughed.  “Aye, Strum was good for business.  In here quite a bit.  Let’s just say he is not good with the blade.  At all.  That man put chips in his blades the like I’ve not seen before or since.”

Almont did his best approximation of a smile.  “That definitely sounds like Strum.”

“Haven’t seen him in some time,” Kromich said.  “Months, at least.  Used to hang around at the tavern with a lot of the other blades for hire.”

“Time to go time to go time to go…” Kent was mumbling to no one in particular.

“Thank you for the information, master smith,” said Katla as Almont rolled up the map.  “As you can see, our companion is anxious to depart, so we will take our leave.”  

Kromich nodded.  “If you find any interesting metals, by all means come back.  I can make just about anything you desire and am always looking for something new and interesting.”

 

Katla bowed her head slightly, offering a traditional phrase of thanks and blessing in perfectly accented dwarvish, slightly startling Kromich.  The smith’s smile grew wide.  “Well you lot are just full of surprises.”

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The walk took about half a day, the outlines of foundational ruins forming shapes under the long grass exactly where Kromich indicated on their map.  

Kent ran his hands slowly across the stonework and joins.  “The craftsmanship is impeccable,” he said.  “I’ve never seen work of this caliber before, not even in the deepest dwarven settlements.”

While the others walked around the area, Almont offered up a prayer to Kiri-Jolith, seeking guidance.  He turned in a circle as he uttered the incantation before finally stopping.  The path forward was lit up for him in gold, a sign from his god.  

“The path is here,” he said.  “Kiri-Jolith has shown me the way.”

“You know, we can see the footprints too, Almont,” Donyxn said, looking in the same direction.  “One doesn’t need the gods to see this path.”

Almont turned sharply to the tiefling.  “Are you insulting Kiri-Jolith, Donyxn?  Choose your words wisely.”  

“No Almont.  I’m not insulting Kiri-Jolith,” Donyxn replied.  “I’m insulting you.”  His mouth turned upward into a fanged smile.

Almont held his gaze for a few seconds before laughing out loud.  “Fair, my friend.”

They proceeded up the path.  Small piles of stone and the occasional low foundation wall marked the locations of various buildings.  One off to the left caught their eyes and they traipsed off the trail to check it out. 

“Over here,” Kent called.  The dwarf then disappeared below the tall grass.  When they got to him, he was looking down into a hole.  A trapdoor lay leaned up against some rocks.  “Spiral stone staircase headed down,” he said.  Then he looked up at the sky.  “Is this what you want?  For us to go underground and kill?”

Donyxn unsheathed the Sword of Zariel.  While most of his magical items did not seem to work, this one continued to function.  “Allow me.”  The tiefling walked down the first few steps and used his sword to cast light into the space.  The center of the staircase was a hollow shaft.  Donyxn stepped into it, allowing his wing to hold him aloft, then began to float downward slowly.  “Come, my friends.  I will light the way.”

The stairs, like the other stonework, were perfectly constructed, though covered with a fine layer of dust.  The light being cast by the sword lit up the entire area, and the others could see it was about fifty feet deep.  They headed down single file and met up with Donyxn at the bottom.  A doorway led out of the stairwell and into a square room, at the far end of which was a doorway blocked to a height of about six feet with rubble.  

Kent walked over the doorway, looked at the way the rocks were piled with a critical eye, and scampered up, slipping through the opening at the top and dropping into the room beyond.