<>-<> The Five Feathers of Gruemar <>-<>

Before parting the banks of the Chionthar, Gwin takes Dinnie's hands in her own and thanks him profusely for his help. You are not only an ally, but a friend also. Be well. Be safe. May Tyr's righteous left hand be upon you while we are parted. You know what they say, she continues with a wink, make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is mold.

After giving her hippogriff one final nuzzle, the cleric sets off with the others on the hike to Berdusk. Feeling rested and much more chipper the cleric vacillates between whistling merry tunes from her childhood and chatting Donir's ear off in Dwarvish.

Once in the temple, however, the cleric lapses into reverent silence, and becomes even more reserved at the appearance of Elthernas. Listening intently and rubbing her invisible beard, the only verbal offering she makes is to comment on the possibility of using a scrying spell to locate Badrizar Nath once their party is closer to the Sunset Mountains.

Brevig bids farewell to Dinnie, and in Berdusk, listens attentively to Elthernas, frowning at the information that Badrizar Nath has recently -- recently -- acted out of character.

"Badrizar's actions," the paladin reflects to the group, "may be a coincidence. We have no way of connecting them to ours. However, were I he, and were I to have learned of our quest, say, the day we arrived in Waterdeep or thereabouts, then I, were I Badrizar, might consider taking steps to protect myself. Such as, reducing public appearances, and keeping to my mountain castle. It could be a coincidence, yet...we may be expected."

"How then should we change our approach, I ask myself." The watcher strokes his chin for a moment, casting his eyes thoughtfully upon those around him.

"Has the time come for some ruse? Some deception to allow us to approach without notice? At the very least, we must assume Badrizar has spies in Iriaebor. I suggest we enter the town incognito." To Elthernas, in answer to his offer of assistance, Brevig asks, "Might you be at liberty to spare five robes of acolytes of Deneir?"

'And,' thinks the paladin, 'if we go to such ends and still arrive without the element of surprise, I shall be all the more convinced that the watcher is being watched.'

Elthernas turns to Gwin. "Divining Badrizar's location could be difficult but necessary. We have had no success thus far. I hope that you will fare better if the need arises."

Then, to Brevig, the wood elf says, "You fear that you are being watched? Avoid Iriaebor altogether. Avoid it and its many eyes then. Travel directly east, cutting across the fields and hills that lie north of that city. And, yes, temple robes can be easily spared if you think they will aid you in your quest."

"Can you tell us more of his keep?  Its defences, the approach, activity...?  A full frontal assault would be foolhardy at the best of times, more so when we are possibly expected."

‘Would you be able to provide a sketch of Badrizar?’ asks Patrin ‘Even better if you had some item that once belonged to him.. If so I’ll be able to scry for him…’

He pauses ‘We’re on secret business, but news tends to travel, whatever we might wish. Has anyone been behaving,’ another pause, ‘differently, recently?’

Insight: 14

Elthernas nods slowly and responds to Fargoth, "The keep is small: a single three story tower encircled by stone walls. It is most easily approached from the south or the west. To the north and east it is set against the mountains. The group of cultists led by Badrizar is quite small, rarely numbering more than fifteen. Acolytes arrive, remain for a few months, and then leave never to return. New acolytes then fill the ranks. We surmise he operates some sort of indoctrination regimen, discipling new dragon cultists and then sending them forth into other parts of Faerun. A slight peculiarity to Badrizar's methods is his obvious preference for the dragonborn race. Any acolyte who is of another race must wear a cult mask, which I'm sure you've seen before."

Turning to Patrin, he continues, "A sketch? That is possible. Allow me to call Varek, for he is the Harper who last saw Badrizar."

Moments later, a half-orc joins the group with parchment and ink in hand. He begins his sketch and continues to work on it as the conversation continues. Elthernas assures the party that he is unaware of anyone acting other than normal in the past few weeks. He reiterates that the only unusual circumstance is Badrizar's inactivity of late. 

Varek hands his sketch to Patrin. The warlock has seen better drawings, but he's also seen much worse. It depicts a large dragonborn in dragon scale mail; he holds a shield in his left hand and scimitar in his right. An amulet of some sort hangs around his neck. He then provides some verbal clarification of his sketch. "Badrizar is quite large for a dragonborn. Reddish-brown scales. Yellow eyes. The amulet, I believe, is made of gold."

‘Thank you, Varek…’ says Patrin, taking the picture. ‘Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll see if I can manage anything..’

He heads to the corner, and sits cross-legged - picture in one hand and silver mirror in the other. Closing his eyes, he deepens his breathing…

10 minutes later, his eyes pop open, pure white and seemingly blind to the world around him as he peers into the mirror…

11

Patrin stares at his sliver mirror,  meticulously reciting the words and mimicking the hand motions for the scrying spell. All the while, he keeps the image of Badrizar firmly in the forefront of his mind. Ultimately, the spell fails, but Patrin senses his lack of success has nothing to do with his own shortcomings with the arcane. Nor does he believe that Badrizar's good fortune played a role in foiling the plan. Something else seems to be at play...

With a sigh Patrin’s eyes clear to their usual golden hue, and he stands up wearily. 

‘He is protected from scrying, though whether through spell or item I couldn’t tell…’

Donir grunts unhappily as Patrin speaks..

"Of course he is. Well, in that case, we'll just have to sniff him out ourselves, without the help of magic! Does anyone have any clue as to how we might enter the keep without just barging in? I'm not saying barging in isn't a perfectly reasonable option, but we could try something a little more covert first."

Donir turns to Elthernas, combing out the knots in his beard with a gauntleted hand(though the residual electricity that sometimes sparks out of them just makes things worse)

"How often do they cycle through cultists? Is it reasonable that we might be able to sneak in while disguised in dragon masks? Other than our very own dragonborn, I mean."

"Now we're getting somewhere..."  Fargoth grins.  "Why not go the whole hog, as humans say, and become acolytes?  Or is that too obvious?  Perhaps a combination of disguises and 'genuine' acolytes?"

At a suitable moment when Gwyn is not in earshot, Brevig says, "I am capable, through divine intervention, of providing a similar defense against clairvoyance, but not throughout the day and night. But for our waking hours, from dawn until sunset and beyond." (OOC: i.e., two 8-hour duration spells). "Although it galls me to think of cutting out one of our members from such discussions, perhaps it is the wise course of action, as has already been suggested."

Gwin nods at Fargoth's suggestion. I have quite a bit of experience at being a "genuine" acolyte. Are we decided then? I am itching to begin the next phase of our mission.

Elthernas ponders the subterfuge being planned by the party and says, "Such an approach has its merits. The masks are a simple enough matter. No Harper base is complete without a closet of disguises."

He then leads you down a narrow corridor to a supply room filled with weapons, armor, equipment, and a variety of clothing items: cloaks, capes, hats, scarves, boots, fine clothes, common clothes, and so on. From one of the wooden trunks you take four dragon masks, satisfied that they will suit your purposes. 

Brevig thinks the ruse will work, and yet is scornful of his own participation. ‘For a servant of the sun god, a servant of clarity and contracts, my actions are ... questionable. I would prefer riding to the front gate upon Ashento, though it would be folly,’ the assimar thinks to himself. 

Advancing the story, but if any further dialogue with Elthernas is needed, we can fill that in. 

With disguises in hand and a plan in mind, the five of you depart Berdusk and begin the eastward journey to the Sunset Mountains. Keeping to the north of the River Chionthar you pass through a vast stretch of low hills and grasslands. Few other features are present along the way. Every now and then you pass some shrubs and trees that are losing their autumn leaves. For three days, you encounter nothing but the wildlife that calls this part of Faerun home, and on the morning of the fourth day, you find a suitable place to cross the river as the mountains now loom large. You soon find a well-worn road that leads to the north, and after following it for the entire day you come to a keep nestled into the feet of the mountains. The cult led by Badrizar Nath stands a mere hundred yards away. 

You see no activity on the road leading to the keep, but you spy two humanoids patrolling the top of the wall that surrounds the place. The time of day is late afternoon; the sun will set within two hours. 

‘Let me take the lead until we’re inside…’ says Patrin quietly, before stepping forwards and dropping his hood to ensure they can see he is dragonborn.

(In Draconic)

he calls out loudly, pausing by the gate.

As the five of you approach the gate, you watch the two guards--both of whom are dragonborn--snap to attention.

"Tiamat be praised. We look for her return," replies one of the guards, with a shortbow at the ready.

"The Cult of Shadow is not expecting you," announces the other guard, seemingly unarmed. 

(12, 14)

Gwin remains silently behind Patrin, but stealthily touches his cloak and casts Guidance upon him.

"The Cult of Shadow?  We were told we could worship dragons here, friend, not shadows."  Fargoth pipes up from the side of the group, hand resting over the hilt of his rapier.