The dwarves cart out the iron-bound oak chest and you depart the "worst ale cellar in Faerûn" with haste. Yanthin waits in the brewery, along with several town guardsmen. Crossbows are leveled at you as you climb out with demands, "HALT! State your purpose!"
Starker:”To receive the town’s praise and whatever reward they care to give the Triumphant Company and then to reestablish the contract between you and a beneficent fey water spirit. What is *your purpose*?”
The guard who bellowed at the The Company after their startling emergence from down below stares at Starker for a moment. He then stammers, "Um, to guard the brewery from evil spirits coming from below ground...(?)" He ends his response with what sounds like a question mark. He lowers his crossbow and then hurriedly tells the other three guards to do so as well. "Um, is there something we can do to help?," full question this time from the guard.
Yanthin finally catches wind of you and plugs his nose, "OUT! OUT! Before you contaminate my brewing vessels with that horrid stench!"
“Before he begins, if any of you are in need of coin,
Five platinum for fetching us soap and a change of clothing. Ten if you will take a sack of my current garments to leave at the mayor’s office. I expect he would be most interested in the affairs of the town, and I would like to share this evidence to ensure he has a complete awareness of the situation. “
Chadwick takes a deep breath, then let's out a long slow sigh. "We were dispatching the evil that has plagued the town. Now that we have accomplished that we need to make ourselves less, much less, offensive so we can put this whole ordeal behind us."
He tries to flash his winning smile, but he's he's too ring out to put much into it.
"As you can see while we may smell like evil spirits, we are just normal folks. So perhaps we can be on our way before Mr. Yanthin starts cracking heads with his brew paddle."
The guard listens and is having trouble keeping his lunch down from the smell of you. Yanthin has indeed retrieved a paddle and is holding it as though he means to use it. All of you are ushered outdoors. It is midday now. The bright sun blinds you momentarily as your eyes readjust to daylight. Passers by on the roads all gawk, and retreat if downwind. The guard sergeant offers to have his men carry the chest for you. "Where do you intend to go?," he asks.
”Master Brewer, might I remind you that you have allowed your brewery to become infested with dark spirits and nefarious activities, putting in jeopardy the lives of these fine townsfolk, notwithstanding Sir Chadwick’s cousin. Do not feign to admonish us for conditions you Sir, have allowed to fester. I will not have you nor any other officials of this town, whom have neglected the health and safety of these good people. The Company has vanquished the undead and saved countless lives from a dark future!”
“We will return to cleanse this place of its foul intent and by Tyrs divine power, return your business to its fine craft. Do not venture into the lower level until we return. With Tyr’s blessing, I will purify these grounds.”
grabs the brewers paddle from his hands, looks at it and places it on a table with various hops. The Dwarves look gruffly at the town guards as they pass by, broaching no interruption.
Trolkarl makes his way down toward the river to try to rinse some of the stench from his things ignoring the brewmaster. He continues offering exorbitant reward for soap and a change of clothes.
“Good Drunkards, I am a humble man. I do not ask for perfumed silks. Merely the clothes for labor that are close to my size.”
”I don’t ask for your wears to the temple merely what you might wear while working. For this you can buy treats for your children and wife”
Xymox, half-cloaked in the midday sun and still damp with the foul remnants of fermented undeath, lifts one foot and inspects his boot with dramatic disdain. He then slowly turns to face the guards, Yanthin, and the surrounding townsfolk with a tired but composed expression. His voice carries the weight of both exhaustion and velvet mockery—smooth, but with fangs underneath.
Xymox: “Friends... citizens... foaming enthusiasts… Kindly lower your paddles and un-clutch your pearls. You are witnessing the triumphant return of your salvation—albeit in need of soap, sun, and perhaps three consecrated baths.”
He steps forward, ignoring the guards’ wrinkled noses, and gestures with a half-flourish toward the heavy chest behind them.
“We have—how shall I phrase this?—extracted the rot from your roots. The corrupted spirit that brewed nightmares beneath your feet is no more. And you now stand upon earth that, while still sticky and profoundly aromatic, is no longer cursed.”
Turning toward Yanthin, he lowers his voice.
“Master Brewer, you may reclaim your vats and paddles once we have fully cleansed the stain from your walls and reputation. But a word of caution: if I so much as hear a whisper of necromancy in a keg, I shall personally lace your ale with holy water and let Tyr sort the hangover.”
He returns his attention to the guard sergeant.
“As for next steps—yes, please, do carry the chest. We’re headed for a bathhouse, a laundry, and perhaps a modest ceremony involving applause. Then, we’ll consult the fey spirit whose pact was broken… and restore order, both magical and municipal.”
Xymox then waves lazily at a gawking onlooker.
“Oh, and if anyone has something lavender-scented, I’ll pay double. Now, do make haste, as Lord Trolkarl has instructed.”
The guards and Yanthin are all still taken aback by your return from under the brewery. They really did not know what to expect after your being down there for so long. And your return was quite fragrant and sticky. Yanthin sputters at Kragen's accusations of 'allowing' something to happen below, "Wha!..I had no idea there even was a basement to this place!...I'll have you know I run a tight ship here..."
The guards hearing bathhouse and seeing your state of affairs leads you to the Docile Donkey. The innkeeper there immediately points to the stables for all of you. Water is brought for baths and tubs are set up OUTSIDE. Your clothes and armor are taken for washing and simple clothes fitting each of you are brought after your extensive bathing takes place. Of note, a lavender scented soap was found and brought to you.
You are all barely made modest again following the baths when the stable doors are thrown open by four guards. Walking in behind them is the Mayor. He is all smiles and beaming at each of you, "There they are! Good lads, all! Where....there you are Chadwick. SIR Chadwick! Monstordrink's own son returned as our salvation." He continues on without seeming to breathe, "You must tell me all that you discovered down below. And, what of this fey woman I have heard other say you speak of? How does she fit into this? Do we need to mobilize the guard to 'deal' with her as well? My goodness, but you all seem to be rather....pallid. A Feast! We will have a feast! Tomorrow will be a feast day." He turns mid-sentence to a scribe following him, "Send notice to the outlying farms and ranches. Mostordrink celebrates tomorow. Parade at high sun with our heroes of honor followed by a Feast! Music and dancing in the night. Hopefully, someone has some Monstordrink Mist squirreled away from.....before for all of this." Turning back to you, "It is settled. Rest up tonight good men. Tomorrow is a celebration in your honors," said while walking down the line to shake each of your hands. He then walks out dictating to his scribe, "have three hogs set to roasting tonight, send for Adith to make her special pies, we will need cream.....," his voice fades as he walks away. The guards close the doors behind them as they go.
The innkeeper inspects you and graciously shows you to rooms inside. You can see preparations are made for a meal if you would like that now.
“A meal would be welcome, Master Innkeeper. Rations only go so far after awhile.”
as The Company dives into their first meal in a few days.
Looking up from his meal at Chadwick “I would expect that you will want to return to the Fey mistress and address the broken pact between your ancestors and the fey? Shall we skip the festivities and head for the glade?”
A welcome meal, indeed. Several plates of roasted chicken and roasted pork are set down for you. Clean, fresh water that was "triply boiled" according to the innkeeper. Crunchy garden vegetables along with a steaming casserole dish of potatoes layered with cheese and onions. Ramps arrive last, freshly from the open fire. Bottles of white and red wine accompany all of this. It is not quite as good as you remember your meals in Granitestead, but, very close.
After the meal is served at the Docile Donkey, Xymox stands and clears his throat...
🎻 The Twisted Tune hums to life beneath Xymox’s deft fingers, and with a stomp of his boot and a wicked grin, he calls for flagons to be raised and boots to thump the floor. The tavern hushes for a moment—then the room roars as he belts out a rowdy number, clinking mugs and igniting laughter with every verse. This is a drinking song, a tale of horror and heroism told in firelight, raucous and unforgettable…
🎶 "The Ballad of the Bitter Brew!" 🎶 As performed by Xymox Xel’Mizzrym and The Company’s empty tankards
🎶 [Verse 1] Oh the foam did rise in a cursed old vat, Where the hops had soured and the yeast grew fat! With a gurgle and groan the floor gave way, To a hellish ale pit where the dead did play!
🎵 “Down, down,” said Hoid with a grin, “Let’s cleave this brew from barrel to chin!” With his greatsword flashing and helm held high, He sliced a ghoul ‘fore it blinked an eye!
🎶 [Chorus] 🎵 Raise your mugs to The Company bold! Through cursed hops and spirits cold! From haunted keg to undead stew— We fought and won in the Bitter Brew!
🎶 [Verse 2] Now Kragen, aye, the cleric stout, Shouted prayers and bashed undead snouts! With Tyr’s own light he cleared the hall, And smote a golem ‘gainst the wall!
And Chadwick stood in a cloud of flame, His halberd sang the Pale Wight’s name! With radiant smite and holy might, He carved that fiend a one-way flight!
🎶[Chorus] 🎵 Raise your mugs to The Company bold! Through cursed hops and spirits cold! From haunted keg to undead stew— We fought and won in the Bitter Brew!
🎶[Verse 3] Now Starker, caught behind a door, Fought two on one and asked for more! With fireballs flung and a demon’s laugh, He burned ‘em down like a chaff-stuffed draff!
And Trolkarl roared with a warlock’s grace, Blasted spirits from their place! With Darkbane’s edge and forceful might, He gave that Wight its final fright!
🎶[Bridge] Now me? I danced along the wall, Dodged a slam and took a fall— I sang a curse, I healed our pain, Then Bane’d their bones to brew-slicked shame!
🎶[Final Chorus] 🎵 So raise your mugs to the fearless few! Who braved the stink and fought it through! From cursed cask to spirit spew— We conquered deep in the Bitter Brew!
🎵 So one more toast, and one more round, For friends who fight beneath the ground! Let all who hear this song pursue— Their fate like we did in the Bitter Brew!
The final chord screeches with flair, mugs slam, and a cheer echoes throughout the inn. Even the barkeep pours a round on the house, and for one glorious night, the stench of battle is replaced by music, laughter, and the pounding pulse of legend.
Kragen, happy to have untainted ale in his hands, drinks deep while listening to the Drow. Thrums his fingers and hums along to the the catchy song. Bellows a "Hurrah" at the end of each individuals chorus. Thinking to himself <by Tyr this Drow can craft a tune!>
Addressing the party soon after the exit... "Friends, we have done good work and I feel that we have completed the second of the three tasks. The third task still remains. After a meal and good night's rest I propose we hike back to the hut where we found Ms. Caellia and see if she is also satisfied with the completion of the task. Then onto the third and final task.
And while it would be nice to sleep in, I feel we should head out at dawn. Seeing us celebrate with the third task still outstanding could further rise her ire.
Think there is any chance of it being for a sweet balad praising her name." He grins at Xymox with this.
While they are working on getting cleaned up Chadwick asks the innkeeper if he could send a messenger to his family farm letting them know they are safe and hopefully will be able to return soon. He'll offer to pay double to expedite it.
Later that evening, at the hearth of the inn with weary hearts and warmed spirits, Xymox began work on a new composition. With slow, mournful strings and a voice both haunting and reverent, he offered the first verses of a ballad in honor of the mysterious fey guardian, Caellia:
Ballad of the Blooming Glade(A Work in Progress)
In shadowed glen where stillness weeps, She walks alone while greenwood sleeps. With eyes like dew and ancient grace, The bloom of time upon her face.
She guards the spring, the hidden well, Where fey-born secrets softly dwell. Through bramble's clutch and memory's haze, She watches still, through age and days.
No mortal pact or coin can buy The sorrow in her sylvan sigh. But brave hearts came to ease her pain, And cleanse the roots of taint and stain.
The melody lingered in the smoky rafters, drawing quiet murmurs of awe even from the rowdiest patrons. As The Company settled in for their rest, the weight of the final task loomed large—but so did the strength they had kindled together.
The third and final trial lay ahead, and the dawn would bring it soon enough.
Starker:”I fear the price our valiant paladin will be asked to pay may be far higher than the intrinsic value of what he will thereby purchase. Let us see what tomorrow brings and let us be prepared not only with arms and magic but also with sage counsel should Friend Chadwick ask our advice.”
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“Let us take the chest, with all it’s contents and head to see the fey!”
Kragen grabs the chest with Hoids help and we exit the lower level.
”once Chadwick rectumfies the Fey pact, we may need to come back, I would like to purify this whole place.”
The Company leaves
The dwarves cart out the iron-bound oak chest and you depart the "worst ale cellar in Faerûn" with haste. Yanthin waits in the brewery, along with several town guardsmen. Crossbows are leveled at you as you climb out with demands, "HALT! State your purpose!"
Starker:”To receive the town’s praise and whatever reward they care to give the Triumphant Company and then to reestablish the contract between you and a beneficent fey water spirit. What is *your purpose*?”
The guard who bellowed at the The Company after their startling emergence from down below stares at Starker for a moment. He then stammers, "Um, to guard the brewery from evil spirits coming from below ground...(?)" He ends his response with what sounds like a question mark. He lowers his crossbow and then hurriedly tells the other three guards to do so as well. "Um, is there something we can do to help?," full question this time from the guard.
Yanthin finally catches wind of you and plugs his nose, "OUT! OUT! Before you contaminate my brewing vessels with that horrid stench!"
Starker:”Xymox try your form of diplomacy for a few minutes. Should that fail I will try mine.”
Looking at Xymox then back to the guards
“Before he begins, if any of you are in need of coin,
Five platinum for fetching us soap and a change of clothing. Ten if you will take a sack of my current garments to leave at the mayor’s office. I expect he would be most interested in the affairs of the town, and I would like to share this evidence to ensure he has a complete awareness of the situation. “
Chadwick takes a deep breath, then let's out a long slow sigh. "We were dispatching the evil that has plagued the town. Now that we have accomplished that we need to make ourselves less, much less, offensive so we can put this whole ordeal behind us."
He tries to flash his winning smile, but he's he's too ring out to put much into it.
"As you can see while we may smell like evil spirits, we are just normal folks. So perhaps we can be on our way before Mr. Yanthin starts cracking heads with his brew paddle."
The guard listens and is having trouble keeping his lunch down from the smell of you. Yanthin has indeed retrieved a paddle and is holding it as though he means to use it. All of you are ushered outdoors. It is midday now. The bright sun blinds you momentarily as your eyes readjust to daylight. Passers by on the roads all gawk, and retreat if downwind. The guard sergeant offers to have his men carry the chest for you. "Where do you intend to go?," he asks.
Kragen looks at Yanthin sternly.
”Master Brewer, might I remind you that you have allowed your brewery to become infested with dark spirits and nefarious activities, putting in jeopardy the lives of these fine townsfolk, notwithstanding Sir Chadwick’s cousin. Do not feign to admonish us for conditions you Sir, have allowed to fester. I will not have you nor any other officials of this town, whom have neglected the health and safety of these good people. The Company has vanquished the undead and saved countless lives from a dark future!”
“We will return to cleanse this place of its foul intent and by Tyrs divine power, return your business to its fine craft. Do not venture into the lower level until we return. With Tyr’s blessing, I will purify these grounds.”
grabs the brewers paddle from his hands, looks at it and places it on a table with various hops. The Dwarves look gruffly at the town guards as they pass by, broaching no interruption.
Trolkarl makes his way down toward the river to try to rinse some of the stench from his things ignoring the brewmaster. He continues offering exorbitant reward for soap and a change of clothes.
“Good Drunkards, I am a humble man. I do not ask for perfumed silks. Merely the clothes for labor that are close to my size.”
”I don’t ask for your wears to the temple merely what you might wear while working. For this you can buy treats for your children and wife”
Xymox, half-cloaked in the midday sun and still damp with the foul remnants of fermented undeath, lifts one foot and inspects his boot with dramatic disdain. He then slowly turns to face the guards, Yanthin, and the surrounding townsfolk with a tired but composed expression. His voice carries the weight of both exhaustion and velvet mockery—smooth, but with fangs underneath.
Xymox:
“Friends... citizens... foaming enthusiasts… Kindly lower your paddles and un-clutch your pearls. You are witnessing the triumphant return of your salvation—albeit in need of soap, sun, and perhaps three consecrated baths.”
He steps forward, ignoring the guards’ wrinkled noses, and gestures with a half-flourish toward the heavy chest behind them.
“We have—how shall I phrase this?—extracted the rot from your roots. The corrupted spirit that brewed nightmares beneath your feet is no more. And you now stand upon earth that, while still sticky and profoundly aromatic, is no longer cursed.”
Turning toward Yanthin, he lowers his voice.
“Master Brewer, you may reclaim your vats and paddles once we have fully cleansed the stain from your walls and reputation. But a word of caution: if I so much as hear a whisper of necromancy in a keg, I shall personally lace your ale with holy water and let Tyr sort the hangover.”
He returns his attention to the guard sergeant.
“As for next steps—yes, please, do carry the chest. We’re headed for a bathhouse, a laundry, and perhaps a modest ceremony involving applause. Then, we’ll consult the fey spirit whose pact was broken… and restore order, both magical and municipal.”
Xymox then waves lazily at a gawking onlooker.
“Oh, and if anyone has something lavender-scented, I’ll pay double. Now, do make haste, as Lord Trolkarl has instructed.”
The guards and Yanthin are all still taken aback by your return from under the brewery. They really did not know what to expect after your being down there for so long. And your return was quite fragrant and sticky. Yanthin sputters at Kragen's accusations of 'allowing' something to happen below, "Wha!..I had no idea there even was a basement to this place!...I'll have you know I run a tight ship here..."
The guards hearing bathhouse and seeing your state of affairs leads you to the Docile Donkey. The innkeeper there immediately points to the stables for all of you. Water is brought for baths and tubs are set up OUTSIDE. Your clothes and armor are taken for washing and simple clothes fitting each of you are brought after your extensive bathing takes place. Of note, a lavender scented soap was found and brought to you.
You are all barely made modest again following the baths when the stable doors are thrown open by four guards. Walking in behind them is the Mayor. He is all smiles and beaming at each of you, "There they are! Good lads, all! Where....there you are Chadwick. SIR Chadwick! Monstordrink's own son returned as our salvation." He continues on without seeming to breathe, "You must tell me all that you discovered down below. And, what of this fey woman I have heard other say you speak of? How does she fit into this? Do we need to mobilize the guard to 'deal' with her as well? My goodness, but you all seem to be rather....pallid. A Feast! We will have a feast! Tomorrow will be a feast day." He turns mid-sentence to a scribe following him, "Send notice to the outlying farms and ranches. Mostordrink celebrates tomorow. Parade at high sun with our heroes of honor followed by a Feast! Music and dancing in the night. Hopefully, someone has some Monstordrink Mist squirreled away from.....before for all of this." Turning back to you, "It is settled. Rest up tonight good men. Tomorrow is a celebration in your honors," said while walking down the line to shake each of your hands. He then walks out dictating to his scribe, "have three hogs set to roasting tonight, send for Adith to make her special pies, we will need cream.....," his voice fades as he walks away. The guards close the doors behind them as they go.
The innkeeper inspects you and graciously shows you to rooms inside. You can see preparations are made for a meal if you would like that now.
“A meal would be welcome, Master Innkeeper. Rations only go so far after awhile.”
as The Company dives into their first meal in a few days.
Looking up from his meal at Chadwick “I would expect that you will want to return to the Fey mistress and address the broken pact between your ancestors and the fey? Shall we skip the festivities and head for the glade?”
A welcome meal, indeed. Several plates of roasted chicken and roasted pork are set down for you. Clean, fresh water that was "triply boiled" according to the innkeeper. Crunchy garden vegetables along with a steaming casserole dish of potatoes layered with cheese and onions. Ramps arrive last, freshly from the open fire. Bottles of white and red wine accompany all of this. It is not quite as good as you remember your meals in Granitestead, but, very close.
After the meal is served at the Docile Donkey, Xymox stands and clears his throat...
🎻 The Twisted Tune hums to life beneath Xymox’s deft fingers, and with a stomp of his boot and a wicked grin, he calls for flagons to be raised and boots to thump the floor. The tavern hushes for a moment—then the room roars as he belts out a rowdy number, clinking mugs and igniting laughter with every verse. This is a drinking song, a tale of horror and heroism told in firelight, raucous and unforgettable…
🎶 "The Ballad of the Bitter Brew!" 🎶
As performed by Xymox Xel’Mizzrym and The Company’s empty tankards
🎶 [Verse 1]
Oh the foam did rise in a cursed old vat,
Where the hops had soured and the yeast grew fat!
With a gurgle and groan the floor gave way,
To a hellish ale pit where the dead did play!
🎵 “Down, down,” said Hoid with a grin,
“Let’s cleave this brew from barrel to chin!”
With his greatsword flashing and helm held high,
He sliced a ghoul ‘fore it blinked an eye!
🎶 [Chorus]
🎵 Raise your mugs to The Company bold!
Through cursed hops and spirits cold!
From haunted keg to undead stew—
We fought and won in the Bitter Brew!
🎶 [Verse 2]
Now Kragen, aye, the cleric stout,
Shouted prayers and bashed undead snouts!
With Tyr’s own light he cleared the hall,
And smote a golem ‘gainst the wall!
And Chadwick stood in a cloud of flame,
His halberd sang the Pale Wight’s name!
With radiant smite and holy might,
He carved that fiend a one-way flight!
🎶 [Chorus]
🎵 Raise your mugs to The Company bold!
Through cursed hops and spirits cold!
From haunted keg to undead stew—
We fought and won in the Bitter Brew!
🎶 [Verse 3]
Now Starker, caught behind a door,
Fought two on one and asked for more!
With fireballs flung and a demon’s laugh,
He burned ‘em down like a chaff-stuffed draff!
And Trolkarl roared with a warlock’s grace,
Blasted spirits from their place!
With Darkbane’s edge and forceful might,
He gave that Wight its final fright!
🎶 [Bridge]
Now me? I danced along the wall,
Dodged a slam and took a fall—
I sang a curse, I healed our pain,
Then Bane’d their bones to brew-slicked shame!
🎶 [Final Chorus]
🎵 So raise your mugs to the fearless few!
Who braved the stink and fought it through!
From cursed cask to spirit spew—
We conquered deep in the Bitter Brew!
🎵 So one more toast, and one more round,
For friends who fight beneath the ground!
Let all who hear this song pursue—
Their fate like we did in the Bitter Brew!
The final chord screeches with flair, mugs slam, and a cheer echoes throughout the inn. Even the barkeep pours a round on the house, and for one glorious night, the stench of battle is replaced by music, laughter, and the pounding pulse of legend.
Kragen, happy to have untainted ale in his hands, drinks deep while listening to the Drow. Thrums his fingers and hums along to the the catchy song. Bellows a "Hurrah" at the end of each individuals chorus. Thinking to himself <by Tyr this Drow can craft a tune!>
Addressing the party soon after the exit... "Friends, we have done good work and I feel that we have completed the second of the three tasks. The third task still remains. After a meal and good night's rest I propose we hike back to the hut where we found Ms. Caellia and see if she is also satisfied with the completion of the task. Then onto the third and final task.
And while it would be nice to sleep in, I feel we should head out at dawn. Seeing us celebrate with the third task still outstanding could further rise her ire.
Think there is any chance of it being for a sweet balad praising her name." He grins at Xymox with this.
While they are working on getting cleaned up Chadwick asks the innkeeper if he could send a messenger to his family farm letting them know they are safe and hopefully will be able to return soon. He'll offer to pay double to expedite it.
Later that evening, at the hearth of the inn with weary hearts and warmed spirits, Xymox began work on a new composition. With slow, mournful strings and a voice both haunting and reverent, he offered the first verses of a ballad in honor of the mysterious fey guardian, Caellia:
Ballad of the Blooming Glade (A Work in Progress)
In shadowed glen where stillness weeps,
She walks alone while greenwood sleeps.
With eyes like dew and ancient grace,
The bloom of time upon her face.
She guards the spring, the hidden well,
Where fey-born secrets softly dwell.
Through bramble's clutch and memory's haze,
She watches still, through age and days.
No mortal pact or coin can buy
The sorrow in her sylvan sigh.
But brave hearts came to ease her pain,
And cleanse the roots of taint and stain.
The melody lingered in the smoky rafters, drawing quiet murmurs of awe even from the rowdiest patrons. As The Company settled in for their rest, the weight of the final task loomed large—but so did the strength they had kindled together.
The third and final trial lay ahead, and the dawn would bring it soon enough.
Kragen nods in agreement with Chadwick. “At Dawn then. when we return, my work begins in cleansing the Brewery!”
Starker:”I fear the price our valiant paladin will be asked to pay may be far higher than the intrinsic value of what he will thereby purchase. Let us see what tomorrow brings and let us be prepared not only with arms and magic but also with sage counsel should Friend Chadwick ask our advice.”