Sir Darak Darkhall: Collecting his cloak, Darak quietly takes his leave. He makes his way to Kaya's House of Repose, where his father has arranged logging for himself and his retainers. He hopes to find that they've arrived safely and are prepared for the journey ahead.

“Tomorrow, then.” Sickle bows his head and leaves as well, wrapping his cloak tightly about him once more.  Sir Darak seems to want his space, so he wanders the city for a bit, finding his way eventually to the City of the Dead.  He looks out across the greenery of the cemetery which serves as a park by day as the rain continues to steadily drizzle down, cold and clinging.  He finds a small stand of trees and goes in a ways to be amongst them, and to be away from any prying eyes.  He removes his outer cloak, his boots, and then his leathers until at last he stands bare chested as the rain continues. He takes a moment to find himself, reach out and seek to feel the world around him, practicing the lessons from his mother and her circle.

As he does, he senses the plants around him, the earth beneath him.  He can’t sort out what they are feeling, but something seems...off. Not in this place, but everywhere, as if the whole world were suffering. And then, there is a feeling, drawing him onward, of purpose. Whatever is to happen, he is following the path to his destiny.

He returns to the inn he had been staying in and rests for the evening, waking early the next morning to pray and meditate on the Old Ways.

This cold damp evening in the city of Splendor offers no solace to the new group of companions as they each go their own way, accompanied by their thoughts and fears. 

The gnome sleeps fitfully in his makeshift shelter, his dreams full of dark images led to him by his drawing of the cards. The Paladin, the Marionette, and the Anarchist dance about him in the streets as the towering city seems to grow into the sky around him, pressing in and down, strangers faces pressing in closer and closer amongst the crowds, but all the same featureless face, a face with flesh pulled so taught across it’s skull that bits of skin tear at the corners showing the white of bone. In the sky, raging above the city is a storm cloud so dark and black that it almost seems as if it’s night. An inverted funnel whips wildly about in the sky stretching off into the blackness, paper and detritus spiralling upwards into its maw.  Whimpers and moans escape his squirming form as he lay on the soft fragments of discarded upholstery. 

Meanwhile, across town, Darak returns to his Inn, “The Sand Piper”, where his retainers help him from him armor and discuss the day. Darak’s thoughts are heavy with the task before him, a glorious and challenging task that will lead him further far from home than he’d been expecting. Gregory, with his grey hair and his quiet demeanor senses Darak’s mood and tries to assure him, but something heavy pulls at Darak’s emotions, and he gets little sleep in the soft bed of the Inn.  Tomorrow he would be sleeping in a foreign city, in a foreign land, with a dying patron, and embark on what feels like an impossible task.  He reminds himself of his father’s words when he was a child, “Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is feeling the fear, and doing what must be done anyway.”  The words hold no comfort, as he acknowledges finally it’s fear that cradles his soul.

Sickle’s commune with nature, the feeling of the sickness has left him feeling almost physically sick himself. Something was reaching out and touching all the life in the world, waiting, just out of touch for it’s life to seep away and for it to consume it. A momentary flash of a massive crystaline tube hanging in the darkness snaps into his mind, but then is gone. He struggles to recall much detail, the vision was vague, but, he feels, important. 

Silas stands, for the 2nd time today, in the musty shuttered office of the Interim Deacon. The man has heard Silas’ report and seemed neither surprised, nor enlightened in any way. He is scribbling on a scroll, though it’s not clear to Silas if it’s related to him, or if he’s just getting work done while he mulls over Silas’ situation. The rasp of the quill dragging across the paper fills the room as the feather atop it flaps back and forth in a bit of a silly way. Finally he stops his writing and carefully places the quill into its holder.  He sits back, his hefty form sagging back into the large dark brown leather seat. He sighs heavily, “This is not Sydnra’s first group she is sending to the jungle.  There have been others.  Why she is so convinced that her intelligence is correct, I don’t know. Torm has given us no indication to support her theory. But, this is her least experienced one.  And that she is going with you seems to indicate it is likely her last ditch effort. Your road ahead will be…challenging.  Hold your faith son. Remember that Torm is with you, always. Represent him bravely, and he’ll protect your soul.”   Silas, rather numb to the stark layers of messages and implications in all the Deacon had said stared up at the arched ceiling of the church’s dorm room above him, struggling to feel Torm’s presence, and a sense of hope, but failing. 

Kasaaptu sat on the bed, cross legged, her hands open and palm up on her lap. Her patron is here with her, pressing in, guiding her. She’s on the right path, she can feel it. She was filled with a sense of curiosity about this new land she’d be visiting. That she would travel so far with magic, that it would be hot, and wild, and different filled her with thrill. She’d sensed trepidation and fear in her companions, but she felt none of that, only a chance to stretch her proverbial legs, and truly explore her self. The quest they’d been laid with for certain was a true and…well…how could it be any more important. But, quests came and went. A chance to learn about herself and her patron, their link, and evolve and grow it? That was her quest, and she was too excited to get going to get much sleep. 

Barty lay, warm and secure under a fur on one of Syndra’s couches. The evening had been brief, but she had spent a short amount of time regaling Barty’s with stories of his mom. How she’d shot this undead beast in the eye and killed it. Saved a small town by shooting a demon in his eye. Vanquished an evil wizard, with…a shot…right in his eye. This one time apparently she’d even killed a dragon. With a shot. To the eye.  She may as well had been describing an elven princess as Barty’s mom. There was no way for him to put his mom into any situation other than her telling him to eat his breakfast and not to go out with a tear in his trousers. Now that he was alone, with just the odd pop or crackle from the dying embers of the fire, he had a moment to realize he was leaving. He was leaving the city, and going out on an adventure of his own.  He was scared.  But, also..excited. Would he live up to his mom’s legend.  He smiled and shook his head.  Ridiculous and unbelievable.  His siblings would never believe a word of it. 

The next morning the marble clad main foyer of Syndra’s home has twelve people people standing around it.  They all stand, hand-in-hand, in a large circle. Bags are on backs, weapons are secure, faces are taught with excitement, or other emotions. Syndra and her Butler are here, as well as a tall gangly youth whose garments bear Syndra’s house symbol. A page. Then there is Barty, Kasaaptu, Badger, Silas, Sickle and Sir Darak Darkhall. Rounding out the group are Sir Darak’s servants three servants. The first is Gregory, a Marshal of House Darkhall, an older man with a booming voice that he rarely uses. Second, is Boris, his large groom and man servant. Finally comes Sedrik Darkhall, Darak’s cousin and page. The skies of waterdeep this morning were light grey, a colorless sunrise under a high cloudy overcast. At least it was dry. The cold northern air currents were reaching their tendrils down announcing the setting in of winter. There would be snow on the streets in a week or two. Syndra nods to each person around the circle.

“I commend your bravery to this cause. We will succeed, because we must succeed. There can be no failure.  Now, if you don’t mind the phrase, baton down the hatches, we’re about to make our way to Chult.”

Mystical energy gathers around you all, going from a gentle tingling to a whipping torrent of power. The foyer of the mansion around you is shrouded and blurred by movement. The light above and below seems to fade drastically as darkness closes in around the circle.  Somehow the twelve companions are all easy to see, crips, clear, but everything else fades to a blurry black. Then, with a distinct "pop" sound, suddenly they world around them explodes into glaring bright light and color. 

You all appear in a tropical city under the blazing sun. The familiar sounds of a harbor — creaking ropes, slapping waves, heavy barrels rolling across cobblestones — mingle with voices shouting and cursing in an unfamiliar language filled with clicks, inhalations, and singsongy words that make it sound almost musical. The aroma of unfamiliar spices and tropical fruit mixes with the wharfside smells of fish, tar, and canvas.

Beyond all that, Port Nyanzaru is an explosion of color. Buildings are painted in bright shades of blue, green, orange, and salmon pink, or their walls are adorned with murals portraying giant reptiles and mythical heroes. Every building sports baskets and clay urns of colorful flowers or is draped in leafy, flowering vines. Minstrels in bright clothing adorned with feathers and shells perform on street corners. Multicolored pennants and sun awnings flutter atop the city walls. A crowd of children dressed in feathered hats and capes races past you, squealing in delighted terror as a street performer costumed as a big-toothed lizard stomps and roars behind them. The whole city seems to be bustling, sweating, laughing, swearing and singing.

Syndra sags as her Butler picks her up off of her feet.  The tall page picks up her bag. She motions to the Butler to turn her to the party for a moment.  "Reminder, I will be at the merchant prince Wakanga O'tamu's. There I will stay, awaiting news of your success. If you need me, please seek me out. As mentioned, I recommend you find rooms either at the Thundering Lizard, or Kaya's House of Repose, both of which are near the Red Bazaar.  The common tongue is spoken here, though often as a second language. You should be able to get by. I...must rest now...remember to be brave (she looks at Darak), clever (she looks at Kasaaptu), wise (she looks at Sickle). But also, know when to trust yourself, and not the signs (she looks pointedly at Badger), to keep the faith (looking at Silas), and just..be yourself, trust yourself, you're hero's, you just need to realize that for yourself (she smiles a last smile at Barty).  Best of luck."  

With that, her Butler and page lead her away into the raucous bright, colorful, hot streets of Port Nyanzaru.

The sights and sounds of this riotous city are like a multi-course meal of raucous flavors to Badger. As an inquisitive gnome with a natural penchant for sampling the variety of life, he longs to explore the exotic streets. As a student of mysteries, he yearns to discover what apocryphal truths lay hidden beneath the city's lively exterior. But knowing also the dread purpose that brought him here, he feels compelled to search for clues or signs that will guide their quest. 

Urgh, perhaps we should look around - make ourselves familiar with this place - and see what we can learn that might aid us. Its such a large city, we may need to spread out, maybe by pairs? And then meet together this evening at one of the inns Syndra mentioned?

"Yes, pairing up would be wise, and we can likely find out more about the perils of the jungle from some of the vendors here. And of course it might be a good idea to outfit ourselves with some of the local clothing...to help blend In."

She laughs a little and fidgets with excitement. The bold colors and vibrant nature of this place fills her with happy excitement.  Along with apparel, she would like to find out about water, and what types of poisonous creatures inhabit this part of the world. She has developed a curiosity about poisons and desire to experiment and manufacture some. Maybe to sell or maybe to use.

" if you don't mind, I would like to accompany you,  as you seem to have a good eye for information, and quality cloth"

Walking with his jaw dropped in awe and wonder.  The first time he has left his home, no transition, no days linger journey to let it truly sink in.  Plucked from his small room straight into a city who knows where.  The threat of potential danger around every corner, beneath the fear and anxiety racing in his head lies a strong foundation of excitement and wonder.  Tapping  Badger on the shoulder as he looks just as giddy as Barty does.  “Why don’t we look around together...” he says with an almost mischievous smirk

Urgh, perhaps by threes then, suggests Badger. We three can explore the markets, mingle with the common folk, and learn the culture and customs of this place. The three mighty ones could locate the temples and garrisons, and familiarise themselves with the religious and martial establishments, and discover what they know of the dangers of the jungles, the fate of the former quests, and whether we can secure a guide.

"As we are unfamiliar with this city, perhaps a map of the city would be needed? As for exploring, I would wish to visit the churches and temples of this city first, many cities are built after the churches are built. Also a trip to the market will be a must for sure, " Silas shook his head every few moments. He grew up primarily in the very orderly and plain temple and this city seems almost too vivid for him.

Before she leaves, Syndra's Butler hands each of you a small pouch containing 50 gold, and gives Barty a leather tube that contains a limited map of the Chult peninsula.  

In case that image insert doesn't work, map here:  https://www.dropbox.com/s/57hnftfkwgusbpa/Screen Shot 2019-10-05 at 9.09.02 AM.png?dl=0

For your romps around the city, please roll me a persuasion skill check and an insight skill check. 

Persuasion:15

Insight:6

Insight: 5

persuasion: 15

Persuasion 5

Insight 13

Persuasion 21

Insight: 23

Sickle is overwhelmed at first by the new sights, sounds, and smells of this strange city.  But he wasn’t put off by it and he quickly found himself settling in as they moved around the city.  He tried to keep a look out and listen for anyone discussing this strange curse, the Soulmonger, or this crystalline tube.

Persuasion: 22

insight: 21

Sir Darak Darkhall: Surveying his new surroundings, Darak addresses his Retainers, "Sedrik, we are the first of our family to visit the Chult. Let us not become the first to die here, yes?"

Turning to Gregory, he says, "It is good to have you with me, old friend. Take Sedrik and find suitable logging for us at Kaya's House of Repose. Find out what you can about the locals, their customs and the surrounding area. Boris, you are to assist Sedrik and Gregory with whatever they need."

Walking up beside Sickle, the Paladin asks, "Would you care to accompany me? I'm curious if there is a shrine to Tyr in this accursed place."

Insight: 14

Persuasion: 18

Syndra and her servants walk away up the street as the tingling of the magical transportation energy is still fading from your limbs and finger tips. The wall of moist air that closes in is suffocating. It clear to both Silas and Sir Darak that remaining in their armor is untenable. You’ve been standing here for thirty seconds and already your body is producing a torrent of sweat. The rest of the group, aside from Barty, also feels stiffled in their leather armor and clothing.  You’ll also likely need to strip down and either wear the leather armor over bare skin or with some sort of beathable gaps. 

Cloaks, shirts, and any extra clothing is quickly shed and stowed into backpacks, as sweat pours down peoples faces. 

Glancing around you realize you’ve obviously made quite an entrance with furtive glances and questioning looks from the crowd of people moving about the streets. The people here seem to be largely dark skinned humans with black hair,  wearing loose fitting colorful clothing. Semi-transparent silks, plunging open necklines that reach down to their navel, loose wraps that resemble robes, but with lighter flowing fabrics, and various forms of head coverings or wraps made of light silks are common, and almost everyone is wearing open toed sandals or the like. 

Amongst the humans you do notice the occasional dwarf, halfling, or half-orc. An aarakocra swoops past overhead, it’s bright red wing feathers stretched wide. You also notice a cat like creature walk past talking in the native language to a human, it’s thin leopard spotted skin, and lanky limbs poke out from a thin silk shirt with puffed arms as it walks by.  You think this race is called Tabaxi. 

The native language patters through the air, exotic with is exhaled and inhaled vowels and frequent tongue clicks, though common spoken with a heavy accent is everywhere.

The next thing you notice is the terrain. This city doesn’t seem to have a flat surface anywhere. The street you’re on tilts down at a reasonable grade towards the docks, but further inland it curves up dramatically into a large hill with short but sheer cliffs. The top of the highest parts of the hill are only perhaps fifty feet vertical but they’re topped with walls with parapets and watch towers, the tops of which are covered by colorful awnings that keep the sun off the guards beneath. 

Another hill rises up within the city to the west, and a massive stone bridge with arched columns leads from the walled top of one hill to the walled top of another.  But, seeing these features, and walls, and buildings, is done through the pervasive greenery. It’s as if flowers, plants and leaves sprout from between every crack or fissure. They are clearly well tended as they are not overgrown, just everywhere. Also the colors of the flowers are clearly intentional as groups of reds fade into groups of yellow and then back to red. 

The streets here are a mixture of cobblestones, and massive flat flagstones. They’re worn with age into a smooth solid street surface. Two foot wide gutters run down each side of the streets, maybe six inches deep. The one on the downside of the streets has a thin stream flowing down it. 

As you stand there, a lumbering massive lizard the size of two horses is led past pulling a wagon of goods up the hill from the docks. 

Everywhere the buildings are covered in plaster that is then brightly colored either with artistic patterns, or with murals of dinosaurs, mountains, and mythic heroes. 

The spells of exotic spices and cooking street food, along with the sour tang of a jungle waterfront assault your noses. 

A quick powwow and your group splits up into three parties. One, made up of Sir Darak’s servants head off seeking Kaya’s House of Repose, while the soldiers, Silas, Sir Darak, and Sickle head off together looking for the temples of Torm and Tyr. That leaves the tiefling, the gnome, and the halfling to explore the city and discover its markets, culture and customs. 

Gregory, Boris, and Sedrik depart quickly together following Sir Darak’s orders. Barty, Badger, and Kasaaptu disappear into the crowds almost immediately, seemingly all filled with enthusiasm and excitement for this lively, colorful chaotic city.  That leaves the three bulky warriors to their own. The heat is building up in the two armored men and it’s clear they’re going to need to doff their armor within the hour or risk suffering heat stroke. But first to get your bearings. You decide to head “that way”, heading east, and slightly up hill.  Wandering won’t do though, so Sickle promptly stops a local. He stops a plump man with a dark complexion wearing a purple toga with a golden robe belt and a white head covering.  “Excuse me, sir, we won’t trouble you but for a quick moment.  We are strangers to this place and are looking for the churches of Torm or Tyr.”  The man seems about to get upset, but something about Sickles tone seems to reach him and he stops his walking, huffing a bit, and then points at the walled cliffs up the hill just behind him. In a gutteral and thick accent he says, “Temple Ward, up there. You’re close.”  He points to the east and along the base of the cliffs, “Stairs are that way.”  His civic duty done, he turns and rushes off. 

The stairs it turns out are a fifty food wide promenade that marches up the cliff face and through a grand open archway into the top of the hill.  The stairway is littered with people going up, going down, sitting, standing, or in a couple of small cases tending to small stair-side shops.  The three men wind their way through the crowd and reach the top, huffing and puffing in the heat.  From the top of the stairs you have a good view down to the south and the small bay that serves as the cities main harbor. A stone sea wall stretches out along the mouth of the bay, to a pilar of stone in the center of the bay’s entrance, atop which sits a tall lighthouse.  The seawall and lighthouse leave only half the bay's entrance available for ships to use. The inner harbor is a hive of activity with large boats, down to small canoes moving in various controlled chaos through the shining blue water of the bay.  Across the bay you see the city of Port Nyanzaru continues, more wall capped hill’s emerge from the tumble of buildings that wind up and down the hills, everything covered with greenery, bright flowers, and colorful murals. 

The men wander the rolling top of the hillside which is mixture of lavish but space constrained homes, along with temples and parks. Several larger walled estates can be seen with trees peaking over their stone gates. The group comes upon an ancient, ivy covered building with Tyr’s symbol expressed in colorful glass embedded into the peak of the buildings front. 

Entering, the sweltering heat does not let down significantly, but the humidity does a bit, and the smell of old wooden pews greets your noses.  

A dark skinned dwarf in a priestly robes stands nearby polishing a plate full of bronze cups. He looks over.  Darak had removed his Tyr surcoat while trying to not die from the heat so the priest doesn’t make an immediate connection.  “Welcome brothers, what has you brought you to Tyr’s home?”   

Barty, Badger, and Kasaaptu watch as the three servants head off, and before the hulking soldiers can really stop them, they galavant…yes…galavant is probably the correct word…galavant into the crowds simmering with excitement.  Wandering aimlessly makes for a good start.  You all head west, passing underneath a large open archway that stretches over the street. Bright murals cover the plaster on the archway, and tendrils of beautiful flower covered vines hang down just below the top of the arch. The city continues it’s slanted way, heading down to the south and continuing harbor, or up to the north, through two large hills connected by a stone bridge that leaves a valley of structures between them. The three heads further east sensing an increase in foot traffic, a sure sign that something exciting is to be found. They are not disappointed as they round a corner and are presented with a tent pavilion the size of a four large mansions, surrounded by a sea of smaller stalls, tents, and businesses all tightly packed. This is indeed a grand and amazing market, that would put the drab markets of Waterdeep to shame. It’s a colorful circus of activity, and as the three begin to stroll between the tightly packed stalls they see building supplies, medicine stalls, dinosaur skulls and claws, tiger pelts, carved ivory, colorful wooden masks, local clothing, feathers, tropical fruits, monkeys, all manner of meats and foods, in addition to almost everything they’d find in a normal market. The massive pavilion contains simply “more” as they enter it, and find also areas set aside for auctioneers selling off timber by the lot, loads of animals, and all manner of bulk goods. They wander past a man yelling in common, “Rain catchers, the very best rain catchers, for you ma’am!", he points at Kasaaptu.   Another yells, “Repellant, will keep away the bugs, but also so good it keeps away the Terror Folk or even your ex-wife, very excellent repellant!”   Yet another, more sleazy looking fellow with two large muscle bound men behind him yells, “Place you bets here, Races are tomorrow, place your bets here! Taking bets on the next execution run as well! Eek-afa the foolish is racing again, good odds, good odds!”  Tasty meat skewers, pies, vegetable stews all call to them as they walk about getting a sense of the city.  Except of course, as Syndra mentioned, they see not a single fur coat.  The group does come across a stand, “Jobal Guides, Jobal Guides. Do not leave home without one, or you might never return!  The very best Jobal approved guides!”  

After picking out a suitable set of local silk clothing, some of the anti-Bug salve and a rain catcher contraption, Kassaptu points to the Jobal guide stand and suggests they look into hiring one. 

" A guide will likely be necessary in this place. They would possibly have some information about  places we can search for the Soul muncher...if a necromancer is involved, I am sure there will be a pike of living corpses near his lair."

Barty is amazed at the market as he chuckles and practically skips through the market.  Seeing Kasaaptu purchasing practical equipment and fear, Barry follows suit.  Buying a mess kit, some flour and various dry goods that can be kept and used for meals on the road.  Some clothing more equity for this weather - looking for something light, maybe a poncho type outfit and a hat..... but after buying supplies to keep him safe and help the party, he finds the caged monkey.  “Well this is entirely impractical to own at the present moment, but good sir; does this monkey have any useful skills?  Does he keep while outside the cage?”  He then looks around to all the Other animals to see if there is anything better.