CHAPTER FIVE - CONSTRUCTION AHEAD

WATERDEEP

After two months of travel, the caravan rolled into Waterdeep. Most of the merchants dispersed to the city’s markets, warehouses, and stables. They had reached their destination and we were paid off for our service as guards - the merchants non the wiser as to our actually secret mission. They were happy with our dedication, and we were told we could find work with these shippers any time in the future.

Waterdeep was a crowded metropolis, and Camilla was worried if they went off to eat, they would lose the unmarked cultist travel wagons, so she offered to keep an eye on them while everyone else ate. "Just bring me something back. I trust you." she "told" Messa. "Just no mushrooms."

The cult wagons didn't follow the same pattern as the others from the caravan. Instead, they headed for the north side of the city before looking for a place to spend the night. The tall bald man with the tattooed head was with the cultists, and the gnome who questioned us earlier was always on my tail, but she wasen't aggressive and made herself known to me at all times. The cultists spent a day resting their horses at a stable on the north side of Waterdeep. Other wagons were already there as well. During the day, some of the cultists visited a large warehouse just inside the northern city gate, where they appeared to be loading up more things.

The gnome told me her name was Jamna. She told me her contacts spotted a black half-dragon woman named Rezmir, might be their leader, was being sighted in the area at least a tenday ago. The half-dragon was traveling with a strong escort of mounted guards, headed north. The road to the north, called the High Road, used to connect Waterdeep to the city of Neverwinter.

It was time to get hired again as guards.

"Of course. Hopefully in the future you'll have the chance to enjoy the City of Splendors for yourself." Messalina departs, with Li'riya on her side and Bell on her shoulders. She makes sure that they get their fill at the buffet and for Camilla, she gathers multiple boxes of all of the things she believes Camilla would like, making a point to avoid anything with mushrooms in it. But while they're on the way back, Messalina makes a detour towards the shops. "Hey Bell, do you want to purchase a new robe for Camilla?"

Bell got her fill of food at the buffet, chittering to the girls as a normal child food as she stuffed her face with everything she could. As they made their way back to Camilla, the kenku had been patting at her food belly when Messalina proposes they buy the tiefling a new robe.

”She already has a new one,” She looks up at her with a questioning look. “Why do you wanna buy more?”

"Because a very wise person once said that there's no such thing as having too many fancy clothes." When she says that, Bell just stares at her a moment, obviously having never heard that. "Okay, fine, it was me, but it's still true. And besides, Camilla is watching the caravan while we're having fun in the city, she should at least be able to enjoy some of the fashion of Waterdeep if she can't enjoy the city. And if you see something you like, point it out to me and I'll buy it for you."

“Bell will stay with the cart then,” She decides. “So you can shop with her.”

"That's very selfless of you Bell." Messalina kneels down to hug Bell and pick her up as she goes back to the caravan. "Is there anything you want me to pick up for you while we're shopping? Candy? Toys? More corn chips?" Once she arrives at the caravan, she sets Bell down and approaches Camilla. "Bell was a sweetie, as usual, and said that she was willing to stay and watch the caravan so that you could have a chance to see the city and shop with me."

Li'riya is reluctant to part with the wagons, but lets Messalina bring her to the buffet. After food, she hurries back to the wagons to meet up with Camilla, accustomed to keeping eyes on her prey at all times. Upon learning of their new targets, she nods. "Then let's do this again."

Camilla looked at Bell, to Messalina, to Li'riya, to the caravan, and back to Messalina.

"Normally that sounds very nice, but we have no idea when the caravan is going to be on the move again." she said, nodding to the wagons begin loaded up in the distance.

"Very well, it's not like Waterdeep is going to get up and walk away any time soon. But we at least  brought a few boxes for you so that you could have something good to eat." Messalina sits down and presents the boxes to Camilla. She very quickly casts Prestidigitation to warm up the food like it was just prepared. 

"Ah!" Camilla beams, "Thank you! I'm famished!" 

Looking over the food to make sure there were no mushrooms, she gave Messa a humorous wink and began to eat as fast as etiquette would allow.

"Ach.." she said, her mouth full of food. "Thith sthuph ith amathing..Hellths, I was THO hungry. Anything but another bowl of that gruel they would therve during the caravan."

Messalina takes a napkin and dabs Camilla's mouth with it. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full. But if you wish, I could buy some food from here so that we can have something good to eat on the next leg of the journey."

NORTHBOUND, AGAIN

We had no trouble getting hired as wagon escorts at the supply warehouse. Unlike in the caravan, guards were not hired by individual wagon masters but by the High Road Charter Company, a consortium of guilds and noble houses partnered with Lord Neverember. A man named Ardred Briferhew would command the entire convoy. It consisted of six supply wagons, twelve escorts, and two dozen laborers marching out to relieve a group that is coming back to Waterdeep for some time off. We noticed that the cultists who weren’t hired as teamsters for their three wagons were coming along as laborers. Needless to say, the cultists were not happy to see us again, and we were the target of dirty looks.

The convoy is headed north 200 miles up the coast. For most of that distance, the road wound through rough coastal hills nestled between the Sword Mountains and the sea. On the seventh night, the convoy camped on a hilltop from which we had our first sight of the Mere of Dead Men. It is a chill tangle of trees, brush, boggy ground, standing water, reeds, and cat-tails stretching farther than the eye could see. The rest of the trip was within the sight of the mere.

We reached our destination sometime on the tenth day.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to complain about getting here quicker. Whoever designed those wagons did not do so with comfort in mind. But still, it's gotten me thinking about the benefits of teleportation or some other method of quick transportation."

Li'riya keeps an eye on the cultists during the journey, staying on her guard. She continues her habit of vanishing into the area surrounding camp for an hour or so each night. Neverwinter was somewhere she'd been to before, and she relaxed slightly to see the walls rising on the horizon.

THE CARNATH ROADHOUSE

The convoy’s destination was the Carnath Roadhouse, a compound that served as a hostelry on the trade road between Waterdeep and Neverwinter in the days when trade flourished. It fell into disuse when trade stopped, but now that the road is being rebuilt, the roadhouse has been repaired and put to use as a supply depot and wagon park. When the wagons arrived from the south, they were brought into the compound one or two at a time for unloading, then moved back outside for parking. The compound was crowded with food, lumber, and myriad other supplies in crates and barrels. Material that can’t be left exposed to the cold, wet weather or is especially valuable were stored in the warehouse.

We watched the wagons being unloaded, and we noticed the half-orc superintendent directing laborers to carry the crates brought from the Greenfields into the warehouse. They all went into the warehouse, and then into some sort of strong room. We overhead the cultists talking at times, picking out words like “strong room,” “tunnel,” “lizardfolk,” and “Bog Luck.”

At the mention of Bog Luck, Messalina heart skips a beat. She starts to feel rage building up, so she grabs hold of Camilla's hand in an attempt to calm herself down and think of something else. "He was one of them." She Messages to Camilla. "But I feel that with you here, I can stay calm."

HISTORY

When I was in school they taught us things about current events and how my world is different than other worlds. They told us how the Blood War has raged since the birth of time: us versus the demons. Pure rage and chaos, destroying and corrupting everything in their path. But there was more. Asmodeus had another war to fight, the War of Dawn with the Acheronians. Acheronians are a humanoid race of warriors, of conquerors - led by the God of War himself, Bane. It's been a push and pull conflict on both sides for eons, and it only seems to be getting worse. The Acheronians have these genetically modified warriors called Primes, created with technology they stole from a civilization they conquered millennia ago. The stories I have heard about them concern me. Once, I saw a few in battle and the death and destruction they caused was insurmountable. It was only until a hoard of our numbers overwhelmed it before it finally fell, and it fought with an unnatural courage until the very end. When I was allowed to dissect it, it was a marvel of physiology. But I digress.

I would be lying if I said it didn't fill me with pride that the Acheronians needed stolen technology just to even the odds against our infernal military. That's when Zariel, a master commander herself and ruler of the First Layer, came up with the idea of genetic modification of our own - we would surgically augment our young and create superhuman soldiers ourselves that would rival these Primes. The process, even though I helped create it, sickened me. In times of war, there was little room for compassion, comfort, and emotion. I couldn't do it. Ripping open children. Healing the broken. The cries. The anguish. The horror. I fled, and the program was abandoned. I'm sure Zariel is not pleased with me. The thought of her finding me worries me greatly, for she would simply not give me a slap on the wrist for what I did. i was no mere intern. I was a Lieutenant Preceptor.

According to stories I have heard about my life, I was not born on Avernus, I was taken from someplace and raised on the First Layer. They even say Asmodeus tricked my birth parents and caused them to kill myself so I could leave wherever I came from to be raised here for some unknown purpose. Perhaps so they could have used my talent in science and medicine? Who knows. I never really felt a true connection here. So, I don't really consider it my true home, my place of birth. Do I tell myself that so it makes me feel better that I abandoned my post and fled Avernus?

Perhaps.

Camilla startled out of her memory at Messa grabbing her hand. She blinked quickly, returning to reality. She quickly looked at their hands entwined, and then at Messa. "H-? What? What's wrong? Bog Luck? The half orc superintendent?" She thought for a moment. "He's one of the people who killed your family?"

"Yes." She messages. "But having you around helps keep me calm."

Athletics for DM reasons: 26

Con ST: 16

"Are we going to kill him, or what do you wanna do?" Camilla asked. "There's eyes everywhere."