Thyxius listens respectfully, offering a quiet prayer to Torm for strength and resolve as Silvane finishes her tale. "A jungle...My blood's resistance to poison should come in handy at least. Rest assured, I will do all I can to help cut off this curse and darkness at its source." To fight for a cause greater than themselves...Yes, it is exactly why he took up this calling.
Petor nods in agreement, though wincing at Rhys' comment about compensation.
"I agree, im not too sure if i can agree to this without knowing a little more about Chult and why thats where we're heading. As for compensation, let's try to figure out some sort of plan and then there'll be time for negotiation and the sort. I for one am more concerned about preserving my own life once we're in the jungle rather than a paycheck.
Syndra steadying herself on her cane as she nods at Thyxius and considers the concerns and questions brought by Petor and Rhys. Her voice remains calm but earnest, carrying the weight of her knowledge.
“The place you are bound for is unlike anything most have seen—or survived. Chult is a land of sprawling jungles, jagged peaks, and untamed wilds. It is as beautiful as it is brutal. The jungle breathes with life: vibrant plants, cunning beasts, and ancient secrets. But it also hides death in every shadow—poisonous plants, unrelenting diseases, and predators that would stalk even the mightiest warriors.
It is there, in that unforgiving wilderness, that the origin of this curse lies. The Harpers, with their far-reaching web of information, have confirmed that Chult holds the key to ending this scourge. Somewhere deep within its heart, you will find the Soulmonger, a necromantic artifact of immense and terrible power. It doesn’t merely afflict the dead; it feeds on the living, consuming their very essence. If this device is not destroyed, its hunger will only grow.
As for what you should expect in return for your efforts: I am no miser, nor am I ignorant of what I ask of you. To risk your lives against the dangers of Chult and the forces guarding this artifact deserves more than words. I pledge to provide each of you with a rare or uncommon magical item of your choosing when this is done—a gift to honor your valor and sacrifices.
But know this: Chult is not just danger—it is opportunity. The jungle’s ruins are steeped in forgotten history and ancient wealth. Cities swallowed by time, temples to gods long dead, treasures buried in the earth... Enough to make you kings, should you be bold and resourceful enough to claim it.
My promise stands: I will ensure you leave this venture rewarded. But the true riches lie out there in the jungle, waiting for those willing to seize them.”
She leans forward slightly, her tone sharpening like a blade’s edge.
“Whatever lies before you in Chult, I have no doubt it will leave a mark on you—whether in scars, wisdom, or glory.”
((Syndra finds a place to sit and rest, her voice faltering slightly as she begins to speak.))
“When you’re ready to leave… I’ll teleport us to Port Nyanzaru.” ((Her breath catches, and she pauses for a moment before continuing, her voice softer but determined.)) “It’s the only major settlement in Chult—a vibrant port city, bustling with trade and life, despite the dangers beyond its walls.
I’ll be staying with a friend there, Wakanga O’tamu, one of the seven merchant princes who rule the city. He… he’ll ensure I have what I need to rest. As for you, the port will have everything you could need—antidotes, weapons, guides. Merchants there trade goods from across the world.”
((Her hand trembles slightly as she grips her cane tighter, her voice lowering to a whisper but still audible.)) “I can’t supply you with those items myself, but Port Nyanzaru will. Prepare well. The jungle… it spares no one.”
Feeling his sparse coin purse, Rhys asks hesitantly… “when will we depart? I may need to attempt to gain more coin before we leave in order to afford the required provisions.”
"'Glory'...Hm, if it'll bring hope to the people." Thyxius has heard of such an Oath; perhaps that is what is needed in a time like this. "I am ready whenever the rest of you are. Lady Syndra needs her rest."
Lucianlistens Syndra and nods as she goes through the details. There is one detail he did not hear; people. Stepping forward, he speaks.
"Syndra , you speak of this artifact, Soulmonger, that is causing this curse. I have a couple questions. First, how did it all start? Is there a cult involved, if so to what end? Second, are there those in Baldur's Gate that would be opposed to our efforts to destroy this artifact and the curse? Lastly, how did you come to learn about this?"
[Syndra exhales slowly, her frail voice quivering as she gathers the strength to respond. She looks at the questioner, her tone soft but deliberate, breaking at times with the effort of speaking.]
“I wish I had more answers… but the truth is, we don’t know how this began. Not how, not when, nor by whose hand. There could be a cult, perhaps... or perhaps something darker, acting alone. The only reason we even know of the Soulmonger is thanks to the Harpers. My friends among them uncovered whispers of its existence—an artifact unlike any crafted in centuries. Some think it might not even be real, just a theory left to linger on a forgotten page. But… with this curse, it’s hard to deny it must be more than myth.”
[She pauses, her hand shaking slightly as she grips her cane. Her voice falters, then steadies.]
“As for Baldur’s Gate—this city is my home. I’ve seen its people suffer. The curse doesn’t discriminate; it grips the world entire, taking lives and offering no peace to the dead. I can’t imagine anyone here standing in your way. If anything, they would beg for this nightmare to end.”
[She takes another labored breath, glancing at the adventurers as if trying to reassure them.]
“How did I learn about this? The Harpers again… their network is vast, and they… they took risks to uncover what little they could. Without them, I’d know nothing of this artifact, or Chult, or… any of it. I owe them everything.”
[Her voice cracks as she continues, but she presses on, her tone softening with a faint smile.]
“Don’t worry, Rhys… I can give each of you 50 gold pieces now. Use it wisely once we reach the port—buy whatever you think will help. I’ve also managed to acquire a map of the Chultan peninsula. It’s not much—just what’s common knowledge—but it’s better than nothing. I’ll make sure you have it when we arrive.”
[The room is quiet as Syndra takes a moment to catch her breath. It takes time for her to share all this, each sentence slow and deliberate, as though every word pulls at what little strength she has left. When she finally finishes, her weariness is palpable, but so is her resolve.]
The mention of a map perks Rhys’ interest. His skill in cartography a result of his work done as a guide. “I would love to see the map once we get there”
Cleggor takes it all in and when she unmasks her face, keeps talking, he walks right up to be on the front row to hear the information directly. He cocks his head this way and that, looking at her from different angles, trying to determine for himself the state of her health. He sees her struggle to stand upright for long, thinks to himself How much longer does she have? Is this illness 25%, 50%, 90% done with her? How long does she have to live?
Medicine check : 19
"Heh. How long does any of us have to live? Especially if we sit around here with our thumb up our arses as this disease ravages the land. A pandemic. A pandemic of death! No ma'am, I've heard enough. I'm in. I'll be glad to have your compensation and if I'm not out of place, those magic items might help on the front end as opposed to the back end, if you take my meaning, but whatever. How many groups have you shuttled down to Chult, ifn I might ask? Anything you could give to accomplish the task would be certainly appreciated. I'm ready, Lady Syndra. Hopefully we can stop this disease and bring healin to you as well."
Cleggor straightens his pack and makes himself ready. Being the practical dwarf that he is, he makes a second pass by the table of food before leaving, pocketing some fresh vegetables and fruits, stuffing them in his pack for later. Having never teleported before in his life, he rocks up and down on his tiptoes, thrilled to experience something new.
Petor winces at the thought of teleportation, though he is pleased to be finally travelling to Chult. "I'm in, if only to see some cool creatures. This is the farthest south I'll have been, my parents took me to Calimshan when I was a boy. A merchant told me there was nothing of note to the south, but I read in my books about this place, and I just felt that I was meant to see it someday."
He breathes deep, closing his eyes and imagining the sights he'll get to witness, before coming back to reality. "Sorry, I know it's very important, I just got lost in thought. I agree that we should get whatever we can to be prepared, but I do feel that outside of a map, our gear, and food, there's little that can be done to prepare. How can one prepare for a place like this, if what Syndra says is to believed, which I believe it should be."
Petor too hefts his bag, but pulls it in front of him, taking stock of the contents.
Cleggor takes it all in and when she unmasks her face, keeps talking, he walks right up to be on the front row to hear the information directly. He cocks his head this way and that, looking at her from different angles, trying to determine for himself the state of her health. He sees her struggle to stand upright for long, thinks to himself How much longer does she have? Is this illness 25%, 50%, 90% done with her? How long does she have to live?
Medicine check : 19
"Heh. How long does any of us have to live? Especially if we sit around here with our thumb up our arses as this disease ravages the land. A pandemic. A pandemic of death! No ma'am, I've heard enough. I'm in. I'll be glad to have your compensation and if I'm not out of place, those magic items might help on the front end as opposed to the back end, if you take my meaning, but whatever. How many groups have you shuttled down to Chult, ifn I might ask? Anything you could give to accomplish the task would be certainly appreciated. I'm ready, Lady Syndra. Hopefully we can stop this disease and bring healin to you as well."
Cleggor straightens his pack and makes himself ready. Being the practical dwarf that he is, he makes a second pass by the table of food before leaving, pocketing some fresh vegetables and fruits, stuffing them in his pack for later. Having never teleported before in his life, he rocks up and down on his tiptoes, thrilled to experience something new.
“How many groups? A few. Brave souls like yourselves, full of determination, hope… or desperation. I sent them to Chult with what guidance and resources I could muster. But what became of them? I don’t know.”
[Her voice cracks slightly as she continues, the weight of the truth pressing down on her.]
“Not one has returned. Not one word, no sign of their fate. Did they fall to the jungle’s dangers? Were they claimed by the curse itself? I’ve asked myself those questions every day since they left, and I can only assume the worst.
This curse, it doesn’t just steal lives—it swallows them whole, leaving nothing behind. And soon…” [She glances down at her trembling hands, her voice breaking entirely for a moment before she steadies herself.] “Soon, it will take me too.”
[She exhales slowly, her gaze hardening with a grim determination.]
“So if you choose to go, know this: I won’t lie to you. This journey will test you in every way. But if you succeed, you’ll be the first to do what no one else could… and maybe, just maybe, you’ll save more lives than you can imagine. Including mine.”
As soon everyone is ready to depart Syndra steadies herself, leaning heavily on her cane as she moves to the center of the room. The adventurers gather close, the air thick with anticipation. Her frailty is evident, her pale hands trembling slightly as she begins to weave the spell. Despite her condition, her focus is unwavering, her voice steady as she begins to chant the arcane words.
“The journey to Chult begins here. Stay close, and do not move away from me, or the spell will fail to take you.”
She raises one hand, her fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. A faint shimmer of light surrounds her, growing brighter with each motion. As the spell builds, the room grows unnaturally quiet, as though the very air is holding its breath. The faint scent of ozone fills the space, mingling with the whispers of ancient magic.
Syndra’s voice dips lower, the final incantations carrying a reverberating hum. The shimmer of light bursts outward, enveloping everyone in a golden glow. For a heartbeat, everything is weightless, silent, and then—With a sudden, stomach-turning pull, the adventurers are wrenched from the room. The world around them blurs and twists, colors and sounds swirling into an unrecognizable void. In mere seconds, the sensation stops as abruptly as it began.
You appear in a tropical city under the blazing sun. The familiar sounds of a harbor — creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones — mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with clicks, inhalations, and singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharfside smells of fish, tar, and canvas.
Beyond all that, Port Nyanzaru is an explosion of color. Buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange, and salmon pink, or their walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrels in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in feathered hats and capes races past you, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stomps and roars behind them. The whole city seems to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing, and singing.
Rhys stares in awe at the bright colors and outfits that washes over him as he looks one way then the next. This place seems otherworldly, so many happy people despite the plague ravaging the land; especially when the cause was so close to home.
Thyxius breathes a sigh of relief as the strange sensation of teleportation fades, taking a somewhat shaky step as he regains his balance. When he looks up, the bright and bustling surroundings are almost as shocking.
"Amazing," he can't help saying with a hint of awe, "It's so...lively, you might never know anything was wrong."
Lucianhad seen this type of transportation method before with his family as a young child, but the experience still is disorienting. He takes a moment to look about at both his new party but also this new locale.
"Thank you Lady Syndra for transporting us here. How much time do we have here before the next leg of the journey?"
As the golden shimmer of teleportation fades, Syndra stumbles slightly, gripping her cane for support. Some servants, who had traveled with you under the same spell, spring into action immediately. Two of them step forward to assist her, while others begin speaking with nearby dockhands and rickshaw drivers, negotiating transportation to Wakanga O’tamu’s villa. Syndra’s pale features are marked with exhaustion, and though she straightens herself with effort, her frailty is more apparent than ever under the unforgiving Chultan sun.
Lucianhad seen this type of transportation method before with his family as a young child, but the experience still is disorienting. He takes a moment to look about at both his new party but also this new locale.
"Thank you Lady Syndra for transporting us here. How much time do we have here before the next leg of the journey?"
“Well… I assumed you would be preparing the rest of the details yourselves. I must rest now. The spell has taken more out of me than I care to admit.”
[She pauses, her lips pressing into a thin line before continuing.] “I recommend you secure lodging while you’re here. If you’re looking for a lively atmosphere, try the Thundering Lizard—it’s always full of excitement. But if a good night’s sleep is what you prefer, go to Kaya’s House of Repose. Either should serve your needs well enough.”
Thyxius breathes a sigh of relief as the strange sensation of teleportation fades, taking a somewhat shaky step as he regains his balance. When he looks up, the bright and bustling surroundings are almost as shocking.
"Amazing," he can't help saying with a hint of awe, "It's so...lively, you might never know anything was wrong."
[Syndra’s gaze shifts toward the bustling streets, her expression somber. Her voice, though faint, carries a note of bitterness as she responds.] “Remember that this affliction affects only those who, like me, have eluded death through resurrection. And the dead, wherever they lie, are beyond the reach of such miracles now. For most of the people here, such blessings have always been out of reach. Their daily struggles are of a different nature—trade, survival, and ambition. This curse… it does not touch them, not directly. Not yet.”
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Thyxius listens respectfully, offering a quiet prayer to Torm for strength and resolve as Silvane finishes her tale. "A jungle...My blood's resistance to poison should come in handy at least. Rest assured, I will do all I can to help cut off this curse and darkness at its source." To fight for a cause greater than themselves...Yes, it is exactly why he took up this calling.
Petor nods in agreement, though wincing at Rhys' comment about compensation.
"I agree, im not too sure if i can agree to this without knowing a little more about Chult and why thats where we're heading. As for compensation, let's try to figure out some sort of plan and then there'll be time for negotiation and the sort. I for one am more concerned about preserving my own life once we're in the jungle rather than a paycheck.
“The place you are bound for is unlike anything most have seen—or survived. Chult is a land of sprawling jungles, jagged peaks, and untamed wilds. It is as beautiful as it is brutal. The jungle breathes with life: vibrant plants, cunning beasts, and ancient secrets. But it also hides death in every shadow—poisonous plants, unrelenting diseases, and predators that would stalk even the mightiest warriors.
It is there, in that unforgiving wilderness, that the origin of this curse lies. The Harpers, with their far-reaching web of information, have confirmed that Chult holds the key to ending this scourge. Somewhere deep within its heart, you will find the Soulmonger, a necromantic artifact of immense and terrible power. It doesn’t merely afflict the dead; it feeds on the living, consuming their very essence. If this device is not destroyed, its hunger will only grow.
As for what you should expect in return for your efforts: I am no miser, nor am I ignorant of what I ask of you. To risk your lives against the dangers of Chult and the forces guarding this artifact deserves more than words. I pledge to provide each of you with a rare or uncommon magical item of your choosing when this is done—a gift to honor your valor and sacrifices.
But know this: Chult is not just danger—it is opportunity. The jungle’s ruins are steeped in forgotten history and ancient wealth. Cities swallowed by time, temples to gods long dead, treasures buried in the earth... Enough to make you kings, should you be bold and resourceful enough to claim it.
My promise stands: I will ensure you leave this venture rewarded. But the true riches lie out there in the jungle, waiting for those willing to seize them.”
“Whatever lies before you in Chult, I have no doubt it will leave a mark on you—whether in scars, wisdom, or glory.”
Nodding, “very well, it seems like this is indeed a perilous undertaking, but the rewards are equally life changing. I accept this job.”
“Is there a place we can prepare for the adventure by purchasing antidotes and the sort? Or can you help us by providing such items?”
Feeling his sparse coin purse, Rhys asks hesitantly… “when will we depart? I may need to attempt to gain more coin before we leave in order to afford the required provisions.”
"'Glory'...Hm, if it'll bring hope to the people." Thyxius has heard of such an Oath; perhaps that is what is needed in a time like this. "I am ready whenever the rest of you are. Lady Syndra needs her rest."
Lucian listens Syndra and nods as she goes through the details. There is one detail he did not hear; people. Stepping forward, he speaks.
"Syndra , you speak of this artifact, Soulmonger, that is causing this curse. I have a couple questions. First, how did it all start? Is there a cult involved, if so to what end? Second, are there those in Baldur's Gate that would be opposed to our efforts to destroy this artifact and the curse? Lastly, how did you come to learn about this?"
D&D since 1984
[Syndra exhales slowly, her frail voice quivering as she gathers the strength to respond. She looks at the questioner, her tone soft but deliberate, breaking at times with the effort of speaking.]
“I wish I had more answers… but the truth is, we don’t know how this began. Not how, not when, nor by whose hand. There could be a cult, perhaps... or perhaps something darker, acting alone. The only reason we even know of the Soulmonger is thanks to the Harpers. My friends among them uncovered whispers of its existence—an artifact unlike any crafted in centuries. Some think it might not even be real, just a theory left to linger on a forgotten page. But… with this curse, it’s hard to deny it must be more than myth.”
[She pauses, her hand shaking slightly as she grips her cane. Her voice falters, then steadies.]
“As for Baldur’s Gate—this city is my home. I’ve seen its people suffer. The curse doesn’t discriminate; it grips the world entire, taking lives and offering no peace to the dead. I can’t imagine anyone here standing in your way. If anything, they would beg for this nightmare to end.”
[She takes another labored breath, glancing at the adventurers as if trying to reassure them.]
“How did I learn about this? The Harpers again… their network is vast, and they… they took risks to uncover what little they could. Without them, I’d know nothing of this artifact, or Chult, or… any of it. I owe them everything.”
[Her voice cracks as she continues, but she presses on, her tone softening with a faint smile.]
“Don’t worry, Rhys… I can give each of you 50 gold pieces now. Use it wisely once we reach the port—buy whatever you think will help. I’ve also managed to acquire a map of the Chultan peninsula. It’s not much—just what’s common knowledge—but it’s better than nothing. I’ll make sure you have it when we arrive.”
[The room is quiet as Syndra takes a moment to catch her breath. It takes time for her to share all this, each sentence slow and deliberate, as though every word pulls at what little strength she has left. When she finally finishes, her weariness is palpable, but so is her resolve.]
"Thank you Lady Syndra, I feel I have all the details now. I too will join and lend you my resolve for this campaign. I am at your disposal."
D&D since 1984
The mention of a map perks Rhys’ interest. His skill in cartography a result of his work done as a guide. “I would love to see the map once we get there”
Cleggor takes it all in and when she unmasks her face, keeps talking, he walks right up to be on the front row to hear the information directly. He cocks his head this way and that, looking at her from different angles, trying to determine for himself the state of her health. He sees her struggle to stand upright for long, thinks to himself How much longer does she have? Is this illness 25%, 50%, 90% done with her? How long does she have to live?
Medicine check : 19
"Heh. How long does any of us have to live? Especially if we sit around here with our thumb up our arses as this disease ravages the land. A pandemic. A pandemic of death! No ma'am, I've heard enough. I'm in. I'll be glad to have your compensation and if I'm not out of place, those magic items might help on the front end as opposed to the back end, if you take my meaning, but whatever. How many groups have you shuttled down to Chult, ifn I might ask? Anything you could give to accomplish the task would be certainly appreciated. I'm ready, Lady Syndra. Hopefully we can stop this disease and bring healin to you as well."
Cleggor straightens his pack and makes himself ready. Being the practical dwarf that he is, he makes a second pass by the table of food before leaving, pocketing some fresh vegetables and fruits, stuffing them in his pack for later. Having never teleported before in his life, he rocks up and down on his tiptoes, thrilled to experience something new.
Petor winces at the thought of teleportation, though he is pleased to be finally travelling to Chult. "I'm in, if only to see some cool creatures. This is the farthest south I'll have been, my parents took me to Calimshan when I was a boy. A merchant told me there was nothing of note to the south, but I read in my books about this place, and I just felt that I was meant to see it someday."
He breathes deep, closing his eyes and imagining the sights he'll get to witness, before coming back to reality. "Sorry, I know it's very important, I just got lost in thought. I agree that we should get whatever we can to be prepared, but I do feel that outside of a map, our gear, and food, there's little that can be done to prepare. How can one prepare for a place like this, if what Syndra says is to believed, which I believe it should be."
Petor too hefts his bag, but pulls it in front of him, taking stock of the contents.
“How many groups? A few. Brave souls like yourselves, full of determination, hope… or desperation. I sent them to Chult with what guidance and resources I could muster. But what became of them? I don’t know.”
[Her voice cracks slightly as she continues, the weight of the truth pressing down on her.]
“Not one has returned. Not one word, no sign of their fate. Did they fall to the jungle’s dangers? Were they claimed by the curse itself? I’ve asked myself those questions every day since they left, and I can only assume the worst.
This curse, it doesn’t just steal lives—it swallows them whole, leaving nothing behind. And soon…” [She glances down at her trembling hands, her voice breaking entirely for a moment before she steadies herself.] “Soon, it will take me too.”
[She exhales slowly, her gaze hardening with a grim determination.]
“So if you choose to go, know this: I won’t lie to you. This journey will test you in every way. But if you succeed, you’ll be the first to do what no one else could… and maybe, just maybe, you’ll save more lives than you can imagine. Including mine.”
“The journey to Chult begins here. Stay close, and do not move away from me, or the spell will fail to take you.”
Rhys stares in awe at the bright colors and outfits that washes over him as he looks one way then the next. This place seems otherworldly, so many happy people despite the plague ravaging the land; especially when the cause was so close to home.
Thyxius breathes a sigh of relief as the strange sensation of teleportation fades, taking a somewhat shaky step as he regains his balance. When he looks up, the bright and bustling surroundings are almost as shocking.
"Amazing," he can't help saying with a hint of awe, "It's so...lively, you might never know anything was wrong."
Lucian had seen this type of transportation method before with his family as a young child, but the experience still is disorienting. He takes a moment to look about at both his new party but also this new locale.
"Thank you Lady Syndra for transporting us here. How much time do we have here before the next leg of the journey?"
D&D since 1984
“Well… I assumed you would be preparing the rest of the details yourselves. I must rest now. The spell has taken more out of me than I care to admit.”
[She pauses, her lips pressing into a thin line before continuing.]
“I recommend you secure lodging while you’re here. If you’re looking for a lively atmosphere, try the Thundering Lizard—it’s always full of excitement. But if a good night’s sleep is what you prefer, go to Kaya’s House of Repose. Either should serve your needs well enough.”
[Syndra’s gaze shifts toward the bustling streets, her expression somber. Her voice, though faint, carries a note of bitterness as she responds.]
“Remember that this affliction affects only those who, like me, have eluded death through resurrection. And the dead, wherever they lie, are beyond the reach of such miracles now. For most of the people here, such blessings have always been out of reach. Their daily struggles are of a different nature—trade, survival, and ambition. This curse… it does not touch them, not directly. Not yet.”