During the downtime, Fane will spend time with Arylnn and Eron for meals and any other social gatherings, bonding. Beyond that, she will be in her room, focusing on the following:
Scribing the following spells into her spellbook from the spellbooks they aquired.
Magic Missile
Silent Image
100 gp total, 4 hours of time.
Crafting Healing Potions
Time permitting, she will make: 2 potions
50 gp, 2 days
Beyond those activities, she will continually cast Comprehend Languages as a ritual, and read Eron's diary. At parts that are especially interesting and her spell runs out, she will cast it with a spell slot and continue reading.
She will be happy to take notes, or transcribe the diary into any language Eron wants, as her magic provides that ability.
Lastly, She will offer her abilities to craft potions to the others if they are interested. One day of downtime and 25 gp and she can create them a healing potion.
Depending on how long our downtime is, she will create potions for anyone who wants one, and continue reading the diary.
At the end of the diary/our downtime, she will share everything she read/learned with Eron. [unless DM reveals a reason for her not to :) ]
Leo will spend her time flying around, being an owl, looking for interesting things to explore, or land and nap on, but will come back to eat, sleep and report anything interesting, patiently waiting for Fane to take her eyes off the diary.
Eron will give Fane 50gp “Use it as you see fit. I understand spellcasters often have expenses, when it comes to their spells. Thank you for all that you do for us.” When the time draws near Eron is ready.
Eron quickly scans the pages noting some information not shared from Keledek then quickly puts them away for another time.
Fane-
"The diary, I've been reading it. Who is the author? Why do you have it?" her questions are curious and by no means an accusation.
"Until now I had very little insight into who I stumbled upon in the marsh. I lost my mother to paranoia, perhaps a curse. She left our cabin and never returned. For a long time I searched looking for her, this was just a random find. I do feel a need to re examine the area and if you have magic that might help I could compensate you. I may have been to assertive with Tillman, Aryln says good and evil are not such simple matters when it comes to people. I hope you tell me if I am too bull headed to see such complexities, I don't want to drive away my friends."
One day at lunch, when it is just Eron and Fane at the table, she takes the gold Eron gives her and quickly places it in a pouch, not to hide it, but because she is distracted by other matters.
She lower her voice...
"The diary, I've been reading it. Who is the author? Why do you have it?" her questions are curious and by no means an accusation.
"They tell of of a group of priest, zealots, and followers of Zuggtomy, and an attempt to summon her to Keoland! Here, I transcribed what I read. I'm not sure why you have this or whom you want to know, so I will say nothing of this, and let you decide whom to tell. Thank you for trusting me to read it, and allowing me, I do love reading other languages."
She slides a few, folded up pages to him.
Journal Entry #1
At last, we’ve arrived in this distant corner of Keoland! The marshes here have the stench of decay, a sign, I think, that our queen already lays a subtle claim on the land. The journey through the lowlands was tiresome and the villages wretched, but we have come to serve. And what could be grander than that? The others feel it too, I can see it in their eyes—the thrill, the honor.
Our leader assures us that this forest near the Hool Marshes has been chosen by the Lady herself. It lies wild, filled with life, and untouched by fools who claim dominion over this kingdom. Our purpose remains a mystery, though I am certain it will unfold soon. We prepare to press deeper into the trees, to find the place where her influence shall first take root.
Journal Entry #2
We reached it—a glade of silver pines, just as the leader promised. It feels… sacred somehow, though I can’t tell if it’s her presence or merely my own awe. They tell us we must wait for the “appointed time,” but for what? Even the others seem to wonder, though we dare not question aloud. Days have passed with no word of why we’re here or what awaits, and I cannot help but feel the elders know more than they reveal.
Why such secrecy? My devotion is as fervent as any! Perhaps they doubt the strength of our faith, but I would see this forest crawl with rot in her name if only given the word. Until then, we idle, making camp among these trees. I tell myself patience is a virtue in her service… yet I grow weary of whispers and mysteries.
Journal Entry #3
The elders have finally unveiled our purpose here—one beyond anything I’d dared imagine. We are to open a gateway… not just any gateway, but a passage for her into this world! With a simple fracture of the decanter’s tainted waters, we will pierce the veil, bringing forth the queen of rot herself. Imagine it! Her fungi, her spores, spreading across this land to consume it in her glory. Nothing shall remain untainted!
And that’s not all—our elders speak of a gift, a relic none among us knew we possessed. It is a cloak, they say, woven with potent magic and bearing the mark of none other than Iuz, that dark rogue. A gift for our lady. An alliance between Him and Her, sealed in cloth and sorcery, and perhaps… a bond deeper still. Even She does not know it awaits her; we, her devoted, shall present it as the first sign of her dominion.
Gone is my impatience, my doubt—each day we practice the rituals, readying our minds and voices for the moment. My hands nearly tremble when I raise them in prayer, my voice quivers as I call her name. The hour is close now, and I can hardly contain myself.
Journal Entry #4
At last, we are upon the eve of the ritual! The preparations are set—the decanter, the stones, the sacred spores. Everything is precisely as it should be…yet I find myself strangely unsettled.
I had assumed that, for my devotion, I would be granted a place of honor, one of the chosen at the fore. But no. The elders take the central roles, leaving me—and others—simply to chant, to play our parts in the background while they carry forth our queen’s will. They dismiss us as if we are but the fringe of this grand moment. There is talk amongst some of us, murmurs of disappointment… it’s as if we’ve become an afterthought, our sacrifices invisible.
Still, the hour is here, and though my mind may rebel, my heart will remain loyal. I shall see the beginning of her reign, and I shall raise my voice for her until the very last breath escapes me. This will be my final entry, for after tonight, the world will be transformed beyond all need for words.
Journal Entry #5
It was to be our ascension—but the ritual, our grand purpose, has failed! The Decanter was broken, as prophesied, the waters flowing, the gateway open…but Zuggtmoy did not come! We spoke the incantations in her honor, called out in voices cracked with fervor, and yet there was no answer. A trickle of her fungi-creatures slipped through the rift, yes, and a vile miasma choked the air, but our queen herself? Nothing!
The elders were in disarray, and each blamed another. Accusations flew: some cursed our faith, declaring us unworthy, while others—myself among them—see nothing but pride and poison among those we called leaders. Faithless! Weak! They bickered like squabbling crows until a vile rage overtook us all.
In that blackened fog, our own blood spilled upon the sacred ground. Amidst clawed fiends and fungal rot, the fellowship that was to have borne our queen dissolved into madness. Wounded, I barely escaped, clutching at shadows and fleeing into the night like a hunted animal. Now I hide here, under roots and stone, the stench of rot clinging to me. But I am alive…and so I write, lest my fate slip into darkness as well.
Final Journal Entry
I do not know how much time has passed since the ritual crumbled into dust and blood. The infection spreads within me, winding through my veins like roots in soil. I feel it now, her touch upon me—Zuggtmoy’s blessed spores. With each fevered breath, I sense them burrowing deeper, consuming me from within. My flesh may rot, but I am hers; I feel her in every tremor and ache.
The waters rise here, churning black and vile, pooling in fetid hollows as the land itself shifts into a reflection of her realm. Trees twist and sag, their bark peeling back to reveal dripping fungal blooms. Even the very air reeks of her. Though I could not bring her fully to this plane, I understand now. My fate is to become part of her divine rot, my body her offering, my soul her servant.
I regret nothing. For soon, my own flesh will bloom in service to my queen, to the Lady of Decay. My final act shall be a gift to her glory... I give my life to Zuggtmoy, as is only fitting. May I be devoured whole, and returned to her, in the end.
She then changes the subject, as quickly as a conversation about the weather may change.
"Thanks for the gold, time permitting, I will make a few more potions for us, we may need them on out next ..." she looks around the room, remembering the divination spell in the counsel meeting, "job."
If we have two more days, Fane will create two more potions of healing with the gold from Eron. If one day, one potion.
[So, enough time for Faneto spend 3 days crafting potions and some time copying spells during the extra evening time afforded her by elven trancing.]
... before news is delivered. It is in the early hours of morning, when a Saltmarsh runner arrives breathless, clutching a crumpled note from Eliander Fireborn himself. "A ship was sighted in the night, just west of the cliffs near the old mansion," the runner relays with urgency. "They’ve sent for you ... they want you out there immediately."
The note provides a rough outline of the ship’s location and a promise of two marines to aid in transport to and from the vessel, but it’s otherwise curt and precise—leaving little time for preparation. With a quick gathering of their supplies, the party sets out to the haunted house with the runner, feeling the briskness of a cool coastal breeze, under clear blue skies.
The road toward the house is becoming all too familiar. Each step toward the cliffside feels laden with tension. The journey is mostly quiet, with the runner occasionally speaking up to provide more exposition. "They say the ship anchored offshore in the night and signaled with a light. We didn't offer any response and the ship was gone when the sun rose. Eliander seems convinced they will be back again tonight."
As they round a final hill overlooking the cliffs, the silhouette of the old house comes into view. Eliander is standing in the yard with another guardsman, looking out at the sea.
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
“Eliander, we came as soon as we recieved word. I presume the ship appears as the sun sets using the lantern signals to communicate. Is the jolly boat ready? I believe a few new faces will not make a difference once we set out to rendezvous with the crew.”
OOC although it wasn’t posted prior to now, I’m guessing having met with Eliander during downtime the jolly boat would have been returned for this assignment.
Eron goes upstairs with the lantern and signal codes practicing the shutter a few times on the wall. “I’m not a very religious man but, I’ve mentioned our plight in prayer to Trithereon just last night. There’s not much worse than slavery in my opinion. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep you all free and safe.”
Examining the bullseye lantern, Eron discovers it is in excellent condition and, though lit in the past, appears to have seen only seldom use. The small wooden box next to the lantern holds twelve candles, flint and steel, and a piece of parchment with instructions. The parchment reads:
Long–short–short–short: “Is it safe?”
Short–long–short–long: “Everything safe.”
Long–long–long: “Ready to unload; come to the ship.”
The blue-haired half-elf quickly finishes up her breakfast and hurries after the others, fully geared up for boarding a smuggler's vessel. She nods in agreement with Eron, slavery was an abomination and she would join any endeavour to end it. "I suppose we will simply have to wait for nightfall and signal the ship before we head out in the boat." She suggests as she accepts the potion from Fane with a grateful smile.
Once night approaches and the ship makes its appearance, Eron will wait for the initial signal. Assuming they ask is it safe Eron responds
Short–long–short–long: “Everything safe.”
if they then get the summons Eron puts out the light and quickly heads to the jolly boat waving the others along. Assuming we gather in the boat, “Whatever happens if you must flee DO NOT wait for me. I am adept in the water and will do whatever must be done, DO NOT risk your safety for me. Okay here we go.”
Eliander confirms to the party that all is ready. "I notice your gnomish friend did not join us, today," he says, though his tone suggests he is just noting the fact and isn't overly concerned about it.
The party re-enters the dilapidated mansion, scene of their first adventure together. The place is much as they left it. Gone are the illusionary apparitions and warnings conjured by Sanbalet, and other than a handful of centipedes that skitter and skuttle away at their approach, and a pair of marines who wait impatiently for instruction, the house is empty.
The wait is interminable, with little to do to pass the time. Eventually, however, the long day comes to an end and night falls over the bay. With the sun set, the minutes continue to tick by, though now the tension rises as the wait continues. Finally, an hour after full dark, a lonesome light appears far out to sea.
Long–short–short–short
Following the instructions on the paper found in Sanbalet's books, Eron gives the reply...
Short–long–short–long
More long minutes pass as they wait for confirmation... first three minutes... then five more...
And then it comes.
Long–long–long
“Ready to unload; come to the ship.”
With confirmation that the first part of their ruse has been effective, the party and the marines retire to the sea cave deep beneath the manor, where the jolly boat is secure. The two marines take up the oars while Fane, Eronand Arlynnget settled. Once aboard, the marines begin to row, taking the party out from the dim light of the torches in the sea cave onto the darkness of the open sea.
The jollyboat glides quietly but not silently across the calm black water, its oars sloshing through the sea with rhythmic precision. The marines rowing remain stoic, their faces shadowed beneath their hoods as they focus on the task at hand. Above, a sky brimming with stars stretches endlessly, casting faint reflections on the water, while the sliver of a crescent moon provides just enough light to hint at the horizon. The air is cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of salt and seaweed.
At first, there is nothing there where you look for the ship. Then, as the minutes pass, in the distance, the shadowy outline of a large sloop appears, its dark form blending into the horizon save for the faint, intermittent glow of a mostly-covered lantern hanging at its stern.
You soon notice that you are not alone on the water. Passing close enough for you to hear but not see clearly, another jolly boat passes, this one headed from the ship back toward the hidden sea cave. From the darkness, a gruff voice from the other jolly boat calls out a joyless "Ahoy." Then the recede into the darkness again and the sound of their rowing fades as they draw closer to shore.
Every creak and splash seems amplified in the stillness, each moment dragging as the small vessel inches closer to the smuggler's ship. Altogether, it is nearly a full half hour to travel the distance out to the ship. Close enough, now, you can hear the ship; its hull creaking softly in the water; something wooden clunking rhythmically against its side; an occasional metallic clank when its anchor chain draws taught.
As you close within 100' of the ship, the marines slow, looking to the party for direction on how to proceed.
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Fane agrees with Eron "this is why we're here, let's do this" She will send Leo out, who has been sitting on her shoulder nipping at her ear the entire ride. You are our eyes Leo. She will nod at the
marines, "bring us in" she look over at Arlynn for agreement.
"Well, I would prefer it if we can keep using deception to our advantage, at least until we are aboard that ship, we would have a hard time actually boarding it against an entire crew." The blue-haired elf suggests. "That being said, I'm quite ready to commandeer that ship." She adds with a confident smile.
Arlynn would have had sent her hitherto not introduced familiar to hover ahead to scout out the ship, then reporting back, hoping the whole crew is not ready on deck with blades drawn.
Arlynnsends Zzplorff ahead to scout [invisible, I presume].
Arlynn:
As your jollyboat nears the side of the pirate's ship, you get back in range of Zzploff and receive its telepathic scouting report.
The familiar describes a 90 foot vessel. There is a main deck with closed doors both aft and stern. Above the main deck, a forecastle rises at the aft and a poop deck at the stern.
On the main deck, two human or human-appearing men stand at the deck rail, looking into the darkness toward the shore in the direction you're approaching from.
On the forecastle, a single human or human-appearing man is also leaning up against the rail and looking in your direction.
On the poop deck, two more men stand. On is near the railing, just above the position of one of those down on the main deck. The other stands near the tiller in the center of the deck.
They are all watching for your approach, but no weapons are drawn.
[Locations, based on Zzploff's report. You are approaching from the top side of the map.]
The jollyboat glides through the water, its oars cutting softly against the still sea, and the ship looms before you in the darkness. Its hull is weathered and dark, with streaks of salt and barnacles staining its surface. Near the bow, just visible in the faint light of the ship’s dim lanterns, the name Sea Ghost is painted in chipped white letters. Above, the masts stretch skyward, their rigging casting thin, web-like silhouettes against the starry backdrop. There is a raised forecastle on the aft side and a raised poop deck on the stern, with a lower main deck between. The marines oblige their instructions and carry you directly toward the ship. As the jollyboat nears, faint sounds drift from the deck: the creak of wood, low murmurs of conversation, and the occasional thud of boots.
"There!" comes a shout from a silhouette on the forecastle. From the main deck, two figures step forward, leaning over the side to peer at your approaching vessel. One is a wiry man with a scruffy beard and a suspicious scowl, while the other is bulkier, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the glow behind him.
“Hold it there!” the wiry pirate calls out, his voice low but sharp. Then, lower still but audible at this range, “I don't recognize 'em, Bjorn.”
The burlier figure is silent for a moment, then shouts, "Light!" From the poop deck, another figure leans over the railing and adjusts a bullseye lantern, opening the shutter and surrounding your jollyboat in a spotlight. The marines cease their rowing, hands resting near crossbows hidden under their cloaks, but waiting before taking any action.
From above, the burly pirate is silent, looking down at you in the light for a moment that seems to stretch into ages. Finally, he calls down. "I don't know any of ye. Tell me, when did the great smuggler Rusty Roger start hiring pretty elf-maids to shuttle his freight for him?" His companion, arms folded, narrows his eyes and looks at the burly man as if confused, but then turns his gaze back down at the three of you and the cloaked marines, watching the party with a cautious glare.
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
When the light hits her, Fane will dip her hand in the water and mutter a quick spell and pull her hand back up. When she does, a 5 foot ship of water, shaped as closely to the ship in front of her as she can tell floats above her hand.
"Because these pretty elf-maids are powerful, the cargo is valuable, and there are rumors that someone is talking to the authorities about our operation. I can't imagine anyone aboard the Sea Ghost would do such a thing, but we need to be careful, all the same."
She looks at the ship, directly towards the light, and will let her animated water ship drop back into the sea.
She turns to Eron and says, "Enough talk" then turns to Arlynn and adds, "let's get to work".
Arlynn would have briefed the others on what her familiar had scouted earlier.
"Indeed..."The blue-haired half-elf says with a nod. "...now are you going to let us aboard or should we turn back? We expect to get paid by Sanbalet for our escort services either way." She continues, calmly and confidently looking up at the crew members above.
Deception: 26 Another roll if help action can be considered given by Fane: 18
The two on the main deck stare down at your jollyboat.
The burly pirate squints down at the party, his suspicion etched deep in his scowl. “Hmph,” he mutters, exchanging a wary glance with his wiry companion. “Alright, fine. You know Sanbalet, but - Heironeous be-damned - you’re a mouthy lot for fresh hands. Keep that in check, or you’ll find yourselves swimming back to shore.”
The skinnier pirate grunts, then reaches for something out of sight below the railing. He rises again and with a creak and rattle, a rope ladder is lowered over the side. It sways gently in the night breeze, tapping rhythmically against the side of the Sea Ghost.
“Up you go,” the wiry man says, stepping back from the railing.
The broader pirate leans on the railing, watching you closely, his gaze hard and untrusting. Then he stomps the deck with his boot and hollers back over his shoulder. "Heave ho, lads! Get those barrels moving; there's a long night ahead!"
Though they’ve lowered the ladder to let you aboard, it’s clear the pirates remain on edge.
[Do you climb aboard? In what order? And where are the two familiars?]
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PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM -(Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown *Red Dead Annihilation: ToA *Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Fane will follow Eron up the ladder, confident in her step.
Leo will keep out of sight. If there are masts on the ship and free of pirates, she will land on one and keep watch. If there are pirates up there, she will fly circles above. She knows to join in if a fight breaks out, but otherwise she will watch the deck, and Fane will look through here eyes from time to time (out of battle) to watch the deck.
Arlynn follows after Fane, ready to get the smugglers' attention as her companions move into position for a takeover. Finding and somehow incapacitationg the captain would likely be helpful, perhaps she would be able to draw them out. Meanwhile the invisible Zzplorff floats around above the main deck, keeping a good lookout for threats.
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During the downtime, Fane will spend time with Arylnn and Eron for meals and any other social gatherings, bonding. Beyond that, she will be in her room, focusing on the following:
Scribing the following spells into her spellbook from the spellbooks they aquired.
100 gp total, 4 hours of time.
Crafting Healing Potions
Time permitting, she will make: 2 potions
50 gp, 2 days
Beyond those activities, she will continually cast Comprehend Languages as a ritual, and read Eron's diary. At parts that are especially interesting and her spell runs out, she will cast it with a spell slot and continue reading.
She will be happy to take notes, or transcribe the diary into any language Eron wants, as her magic provides that ability.
Lastly, She will offer her abilities to craft potions to the others if they are interested. One day of downtime and 25 gp and she can create them a healing potion.
Depending on how long our downtime is, she will create potions for anyone who wants one, and continue reading the diary.
At the end of the diary/our downtime, she will share everything she read/learned with Eron. [unless DM reveals a reason for her not to :) ]
Leo will spend her time flying around, being an owl, looking for interesting things to explore, or land and nap on, but will come back to eat, sleep and report anything interesting, patiently waiting for Fane to take her eyes off the diary.
Eron will give Fane 50gp “Use it as you see fit. I understand spellcasters often have expenses, when it comes to their spells. Thank you for all that you do for us.” When the time draws near Eron is ready.
Eron quickly scans the pages noting some information not shared from Keledek then quickly puts them away for another time.
"Until now I had very little insight into who I stumbled upon in the marsh. I lost my mother to paranoia, perhaps a curse. She left our cabin and never returned. For a long time I searched looking for her, this was just a random find. I do feel a need to re examine the area and if you have magic that might help I could compensate you. I may have been to assertive with Tillman, Aryln says good and evil are not such simple matters when it comes to people. I hope you tell me if I am too bull headed to see such complexities, I don't want to drive away my friends."
One day at lunch, when it is just Eron and Fane at the table, she takes the gold Eron gives her and quickly places it in a pouch, not to hide it, but because she is distracted by other matters.
She lower her voice...
"The diary, I've been reading it. Who is the author? Why do you have it?" her questions are curious and by no means an accusation.
"They tell of of a group of priest, zealots, and followers of Zuggtomy, and an attempt to summon her to Keoland! Here, I transcribed what I read. I'm not sure why you have this or whom you want to know, so I will say nothing of this, and let you decide whom to tell. Thank you for trusting me to read it, and allowing me, I do love reading other languages."
She slides a few, folded up pages to him.
Journal Entry #1
At last, we’ve arrived in this distant corner of Keoland! The marshes here have the stench of decay, a sign, I think, that our queen already lays a subtle claim on the land. The journey through the lowlands was tiresome and the villages wretched, but we have come to serve. And what could be grander than that? The others feel it too, I can see it in their eyes—the thrill, the honor.
Our leader assures us that this forest near the Hool Marshes has been chosen by the Lady herself. It lies wild, filled with life, and untouched by fools who claim dominion over this kingdom. Our purpose remains a mystery, though I am certain it will unfold soon. We prepare to press deeper into the trees, to find the place where her influence shall first take root.
Journal Entry #2
We reached it—a glade of silver pines, just as the leader promised. It feels… sacred somehow, though I can’t tell if it’s her presence or merely my own awe. They tell us we must wait for the “appointed time,” but for what? Even the others seem to wonder, though we dare not question aloud. Days have passed with no word of why we’re here or what awaits, and I cannot help but feel the elders know more than they reveal.
Why such secrecy? My devotion is as fervent as any! Perhaps they doubt the strength of our faith, but I would see this forest crawl with rot in her name if only given the word. Until then, we idle, making camp among these trees. I tell myself patience is a virtue in her service… yet I grow weary of whispers and mysteries.
Journal Entry #3
The elders have finally unveiled our purpose here—one beyond anything I’d dared imagine. We are to open a gateway… not just any gateway, but a passage for her into this world! With a simple fracture of the decanter’s tainted waters, we will pierce the veil, bringing forth the queen of rot herself. Imagine it! Her fungi, her spores, spreading across this land to consume it in her glory. Nothing shall remain untainted!
And that’s not all—our elders speak of a gift, a relic none among us knew we possessed. It is a cloak, they say, woven with potent magic and bearing the mark of none other than Iuz, that dark rogue. A gift for our lady. An alliance between Him and Her, sealed in cloth and sorcery, and perhaps… a bond deeper still. Even She does not know it awaits her; we, her devoted, shall present it as the first sign of her dominion.
Gone is my impatience, my doubt—each day we practice the rituals, readying our minds and voices for the moment. My hands nearly tremble when I raise them in prayer, my voice quivers as I call her name. The hour is close now, and I can hardly contain myself.
Journal Entry #4
At last, we are upon the eve of the ritual! The preparations are set—the decanter, the stones, the sacred spores. Everything is precisely as it should be…yet I find myself strangely unsettled.
I had assumed that, for my devotion, I would be granted a place of honor, one of the chosen at the fore. But no. The elders take the central roles, leaving me—and others—simply to chant, to play our parts in the background while they carry forth our queen’s will. They dismiss us as if we are but the fringe of this grand moment. There is talk amongst some of us, murmurs of disappointment… it’s as if we’ve become an afterthought, our sacrifices invisible.
Still, the hour is here, and though my mind may rebel, my heart will remain loyal. I shall see the beginning of her reign, and I shall raise my voice for her until the very last breath escapes me. This will be my final entry, for after tonight, the world will be transformed beyond all need for words.
Journal Entry #5
It was to be our ascension—but the ritual, our grand purpose, has failed! The Decanter was broken, as prophesied, the waters flowing, the gateway open…but Zuggtmoy did not come! We spoke the incantations in her honor, called out in voices cracked with fervor, and yet there was no answer. A trickle of her fungi-creatures slipped through the rift, yes, and a vile miasma choked the air, but our queen herself? Nothing!
The elders were in disarray, and each blamed another. Accusations flew: some cursed our faith, declaring us unworthy, while others—myself among them—see nothing but pride and poison among those we called leaders. Faithless! Weak! They bickered like squabbling crows until a vile rage overtook us all.
In that blackened fog, our own blood spilled upon the sacred ground. Amidst clawed fiends and fungal rot, the fellowship that was to have borne our queen dissolved into madness. Wounded, I barely escaped, clutching at shadows and fleeing into the night like a hunted animal. Now I hide here, under roots and stone, the stench of rot clinging to me. But I am alive…and so I write, lest my fate slip into darkness as well.
Final Journal Entry
I do not know how much time has passed since the ritual crumbled into dust and blood. The infection spreads within me, winding through my veins like roots in soil. I feel it now, her touch upon me—Zuggtmoy’s blessed spores. With each fevered breath, I sense them burrowing deeper, consuming me from within. My flesh may rot, but I am hers; I feel her in every tremor and ache.
The waters rise here, churning black and vile, pooling in fetid hollows as the land itself shifts into a reflection of her realm. Trees twist and sag, their bark peeling back to reveal dripping fungal blooms. Even the very air reeks of her. Though I could not bring her fully to this plane, I understand now. My fate is to become part of her divine rot, my body her offering, my soul her servant.
I regret nothing. For soon, my own flesh will bloom in service to my queen, to the Lady of Decay. My final act shall be a gift to her glory... I give my life to Zuggtmoy, as is only fitting. May I be devoured whole, and returned to her, in the end.
She then changes the subject, as quickly as a conversation about the weather may change.
"Thanks for the gold, time permitting, I will make a few more potions for us, we may need them on out next ..." she looks around the room, remembering the divination spell in the counsel meeting, "job."
If we have two more days, Fane will create two more potions of healing with the gold from Eron. If one day, one potion.
Three days pass...
[So, enough time for Fane to spend 3 days crafting potions and some time copying spells during the extra evening time afforded her by elven trancing.]
... before news is delivered. It is in the early hours of morning, when a Saltmarsh runner arrives breathless, clutching a crumpled note from Eliander Fireborn himself. "A ship was sighted in the night, just west of the cliffs near the old mansion," the runner relays with urgency. "They’ve sent for you ... they want you out there immediately."
The note provides a rough outline of the ship’s location and a promise of two marines to aid in transport to and from the vessel, but it’s otherwise curt and precise—leaving little time for preparation. With a quick gathering of their supplies, the party sets out to the haunted house with the runner, feeling the briskness of a cool coastal breeze, under clear blue skies.
The road toward the house is becoming all too familiar. Each step toward the cliffside feels laden with tension. The journey is mostly quiet, with the runner occasionally speaking up to provide more exposition. "They say the ship anchored offshore in the night and signaled with a light. We didn't offer any response and the ship was gone when the sun rose. Eliander seems convinced they will be back again tonight."
As they round a final hill overlooking the cliffs, the silhouette of the old house comes into view. Eliander is standing in the yard with another guardsman, looking out at the sea.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
“Eliander, we came as soon as we recieved word. I presume the ship appears as the sun sets using the lantern signals to communicate. Is the jolly boat ready? I believe a few new faces will not make a difference once we set out to rendezvous with the crew.”
OOC although it wasn’t posted prior to now, I’m guessing having met with Eliander during downtime the jolly boat would have been returned for this assignment.
Eron goes upstairs with the lantern and signal codes practicing the shutter a few times on the wall. “I’m not a very religious man but, I’ve mentioned our plight in prayer to Trithereon just last night. There’s not much worse than slavery in my opinion. I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep you all free and safe.”
Examining the bullseye lantern, Eron discovers it is in excellent condition and, though lit in the past, appears to have seen only seldom use. The small wooden box next to the lantern holds twelve candles, flint and steel, and a piece of parchment with instructions. The parchment reads:
Long–short–short–short: “Is it safe?”
Short–long–short–long: “Everything safe.”
Long–long–long: “Ready to unload; come to the ship.”
Fane follows along, with Leo on her shoulder, or scouting the clear skies above.
She will give Eron and Arlynn each one Potion of Healing.
"Here, it is best if we each have access to one of these."
[OOC: As part of her species Trance, she will drop her proficiency with Net and gain it with Vehicles (water)]
The blue-haired half-elf quickly finishes up her breakfast and hurries after the others, fully geared up for boarding a smuggler's vessel.
She nods in agreement with Eron, slavery was an abomination and she would join any endeavour to end it. "I suppose we will simply have to wait for nightfall and signal the ship before we head out in the boat." She suggests as she accepts the potion from Fane with a grateful smile.
Once night approaches and the ship makes its appearance, Eron will wait for the initial signal. Assuming they ask is it safe Eron responds
Short–long–short–long: “Everything safe.”
if they then get the summons Eron puts out the light and quickly heads to the jolly boat waving the others along. Assuming we gather in the boat, “Whatever happens if you must flee DO NOT wait for me. I am adept in the water and will do whatever must be done, DO NOT risk your safety for me. Okay here we go.”
Eliander confirms to the party that all is ready. "I notice your gnomish friend did not join us, today," he says, though his tone suggests he is just noting the fact and isn't overly concerned about it.
The party re-enters the dilapidated mansion, scene of their first adventure together. The place is much as they left it. Gone are the illusionary apparitions and warnings conjured by Sanbalet, and other than a handful of centipedes that skitter and skuttle away at their approach, and a pair of marines who wait impatiently for instruction, the house is empty.
The wait is interminable, with little to do to pass the time. Eventually, however, the long day comes to an end and night falls over the bay. With the sun set, the minutes continue to tick by, though now the tension rises as the wait continues. Finally, an hour after full dark, a lonesome light appears far out to sea.
Long–short–short–short
Following the instructions on the paper found in Sanbalet's books, Eron gives the reply...
Short–long–short–long
More long minutes pass as they wait for confirmation... first three minutes... then five more...
And then it comes.
Long–long–long
“Ready to unload; come to the ship.”
With confirmation that the first part of their ruse has been effective, the party and the marines retire to the sea cave deep beneath the manor, where the jolly boat is secure. The two marines take up the oars while Fane, Eron and Arlynn get settled. Once aboard, the marines begin to row, taking the party out from the dim light of the torches in the sea cave onto the darkness of the open sea.
The jollyboat glides quietly but not silently across the calm black water, its oars sloshing through the sea with rhythmic precision. The marines rowing remain stoic, their faces shadowed beneath their hoods as they focus on the task at hand. Above, a sky brimming with stars stretches endlessly, casting faint reflections on the water, while the sliver of a crescent moon provides just enough light to hint at the horizon. The air is cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of salt and seaweed.
At first, there is nothing there where you look for the ship. Then, as the minutes pass, in the distance, the shadowy outline of a large sloop appears, its dark form blending into the horizon save for the faint, intermittent glow of a mostly-covered lantern hanging at its stern.
You soon notice that you are not alone on the water. Passing close enough for you to hear but not see clearly, another jolly boat passes, this one headed from the ship back toward the hidden sea cave. From the darkness, a gruff voice from the other jolly boat calls out a joyless "Ahoy." Then the recede into the darkness again and the sound of their rowing fades as they draw closer to shore.
Every creak and splash seems amplified in the stillness, each moment dragging as the small vessel inches closer to the smuggler's ship. Altogether, it is nearly a full half hour to travel the distance out to the ship. Close enough, now, you can hear the ship; its hull creaking softly in the water; something wooden clunking rhythmically against its side; an occasional metallic clank when its anchor chain draws taught.
As you close within 100' of the ship, the marines slow, looking to the party for direction on how to proceed.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Eron looks to his teammates for input, he prefers a direct approach. If no objections he recommends advancing the deception.
Fane agrees with Eron "this is why we're here, let's do this" She will send Leo out, who has been sitting on her shoulder nipping at her ear the entire ride. You are our eyes Leo. She will nod at the
marines, "bring us in" she look over at Arlynn for agreement.
"Well, I would prefer it if we can keep using deception to our advantage, at least until we are aboard that ship, we would have a hard time actually boarding it against an entire crew." The blue-haired elf suggests. "That being said, I'm quite ready to commandeer that ship." She adds with a confident smile.
Arlynn would have had sent her hitherto not introduced familiar to hover ahead to scout out the ship, then reporting back, hoping the whole crew is not ready on deck with blades drawn.
Arlynn sends Zzplorff ahead to scout [invisible, I presume].
Arlynn:
As your jollyboat nears the side of the pirate's ship, you get back in range of Zzploff and receive its telepathic scouting report.
The familiar describes a 90 foot vessel. There is a main deck with closed doors both aft and stern. Above the main deck, a forecastle rises at the aft and a poop deck at the stern.
On the main deck, two human or human-appearing men stand at the deck rail, looking into the darkness toward the shore in the direction you're approaching from.
On the forecastle, a single human or human-appearing man is also leaning up against the rail and looking in your direction.
On the poop deck, two more men stand. On is near the railing, just above the position of one of those down on the main deck. The other stands near the tiller in the center of the deck.
They are all watching for your approach, but no weapons are drawn.
[Locations, based on Zzploff's report. You are approaching from the top side of the map.]
The jollyboat glides through the water, its oars cutting softly against the still sea, and the ship looms before you in the darkness. Its hull is weathered and dark, with streaks of salt and barnacles staining its surface. Near the bow, just visible in the faint light of the ship’s dim lanterns, the name Sea Ghost is painted in chipped white letters. Above, the masts stretch skyward, their rigging casting thin, web-like silhouettes against the starry backdrop. There is a raised forecastle on the aft side and a raised poop deck on the stern, with a lower main deck between. The marines oblige their instructions and carry you directly toward the ship. As the jollyboat nears, faint sounds drift from the deck: the creak of wood, low murmurs of conversation, and the occasional thud of boots.
"There!" comes a shout from a silhouette on the forecastle. From the main deck, two figures step forward, leaning over the side to peer at your approaching vessel. One is a wiry man with a scruffy beard and a suspicious scowl, while the other is bulkier, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the glow behind him.
“Hold it there!” the wiry pirate calls out, his voice low but sharp. Then, lower still but audible at this range, “I don't recognize 'em, Bjorn.”
The burlier figure is silent for a moment, then shouts, "Light!" From the poop deck, another figure leans over the railing and adjusts a bullseye lantern, opening the shutter and surrounding your jollyboat in a spotlight. The marines cease their rowing, hands resting near crossbows hidden under their cloaks, but waiting before taking any action.
From above, the burly pirate is silent, looking down at you in the light for a moment that seems to stretch into ages. Finally, he calls down. "I don't know any of ye. Tell me, when did the great smuggler Rusty Roger start hiring pretty elf-maids to shuttle his freight for him?" His companion, arms folded, narrows his eyes and looks at the burly man as if confused, but then turns his gaze back down at the three of you and the cloaked marines, watching the party with a cautious glare.
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
“The great Sanbalet is he who sent us, a these pretty lasses are very entertaining, let’s get on with it!”
Eron tries to be deceptive (oh no!) 5
When the light hits her, Fane will dip her hand in the water and mutter a quick spell and pull her hand back up. When she does, a 5 foot ship of water, shaped as closely to the ship in front of her as she can tell floats above her hand.
"Because these pretty elf-maids are powerful, the cargo is valuable, and there are rumors that someone is talking to the authorities about our operation. I can't imagine anyone aboard the Sea Ghost would do such a thing, but we need to be careful, all the same."
She looks at the ship, directly towards the light, and will let her animated water ship drop back into the sea.
She turns to Eron and says, "Enough talk" then turns to Arlynn and adds, "let's get to work".
Arlynn would have briefed the others on what her familiar had scouted earlier.
"Indeed..." The blue-haired half-elf says with a nod. "...now are you going to let us aboard or should we turn back? We expect to get paid by Sanbalet for our escort services either way." She continues, calmly and confidently looking up at the crew members above.
Deception: 26 Another roll if help action can be considered given by Fane: 18
The two on the main deck stare down at your jollyboat.
The burly pirate squints down at the party, his suspicion etched deep in his scowl. “Hmph,” he mutters, exchanging a wary glance with his wiry companion. “Alright, fine. You know Sanbalet, but - Heironeous be-damned - you’re a mouthy lot for fresh hands. Keep that in check, or you’ll find yourselves swimming back to shore.”
The skinnier pirate grunts, then reaches for something out of sight below the railing. He rises again and with a creak and rattle, a rope ladder is lowered over the side. It sways gently in the night breeze, tapping rhythmically against the side of the Sea Ghost.
“Up you go,” the wiry man says, stepping back from the railing.
The broader pirate leans on the railing, watching you closely, his gaze hard and untrusting. Then he stomps the deck with his boot and hollers back over his shoulder. "Heave ho, lads! Get those barrels moving; there's a long night ahead!"
Though they’ve lowered the ladder to let you aboard, it’s clear the pirates remain on edge.
[Do you climb aboard? In what order? And where are the two familiars?]
PC - Ethel - Human - Lvl 4 Necromancer - Undying Dragons * Serge Marshblade - Human - Lvl 5 Eldritch Knight - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
DM - (Homebrew) Heroes of Bardstown * Red Dead Annihilation: ToA * Where the Cold Winds Blow : DoIP * Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts: HotDQ * Red Wine, Black Rose: CoS * Greyhawk: Tides of War
Eron climbs up quickly, offers a hand as the others board. Looking about he tries to get a count.
investigation 13
Fane will follow Eron up the ladder, confident in her step.
Leo will keep out of sight. If there are masts on the ship and free of pirates, she will land on one and keep watch. If there are pirates up there, she will fly circles above. She knows to join in if a fight breaks out, but otherwise she will watch the deck, and Fane will look through here eyes from time to time (out of battle) to watch the deck.
Arlynn follows after Fane, ready to get the smugglers' attention as her companions move into position for a takeover. Finding and somehow incapacitationg the captain would likely be helpful, perhaps she would be able to draw them out. Meanwhile the invisible Zzplorff floats around above the main deck, keeping a good lookout for threats.