(RoT-3) "Just read the fucking writ!"

Trouble with the city guard...

The party are in the middle of a strange snake-filled dungeon, where they've been tricked, trapped and slapped daft - but still they continue. They seek Varram the White, one of the Wyrmspeakers, who was recently seen in Boareskyr Bridge - and they've tracked him to the Tomb of Diderius.

Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, a proud proponent of the phrase "don't split the party".
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, a friend of the city guard. 
Nyvan, (played by Jason) a elven knight, the only paladin in the world who believes in sacrifice and torture.
Rodin Halfbeard, (played by Lorne) the dwarven axeman (absent this evening).
Nandrin the Naughty, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, back to the bravest person in the party.

and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.

The Tomb of Diderius has been a pleasant diversion for our heroes, but now they're knee-deep in yuan-ti and they still haven't found the dwarven cultist, Varram. And then who knows what will happen next! 

They stood in a room filled with strange holes in the floor. Some dead lizardmen and a yuan-ti female lay dead on the floor. A quick scan of the room and its inhabitants revealed little apart from a large amount of smaller denomination coins in the holes. They hoovered up the coins and stuffed them in Venmir's Bag of Holding.

They headed along one corridor which lead to a room with nothing but a pair of alcoves in opposite walls, in which stood some serpent idols, and a pile of armour on the floor under each. Sigurd walked into the room to check the armour, and to his disgust, hordes of snakes slithered out from tiny holes at the base of the walls all around, heading straight for the armour and sliding inside it's holes to reanimate the armour - which charged forward to assault the intruders!

With poisoned blades and heavy armour, it took some time for the crew to take down the beasts and they cursed heartily during the course of a surprisingly lengthy battle. Eventually they were successful and the creatures returned to inanimate piles of armour. They decided to take a brief rest - even if there wasn't 100% agreement on resting in a place such as this.

They moved back to the last room, and found themselves in a short corridor with an arch on the right, right at the end of the hall, but there was a blank wall inside the arch. They walked forward to investigate, and set off a trap which filled the corridor with darts. Nandrin and Venmir were the worst affected by the poison, and once their paralysis wore off, found they had soiled their pantaloons - much to the amusement of the others.

They moved onwards, passing an empty prison room before entering a huge hall - filled with snake-men and horrible statues. At the far end stood a snakewoman, tall and proud, he eyes glaring at the intruders in her home. Behind her, huddled against an evil altar, was a dwarf, dressed in a loincloth and even from a distance it was clear he had been beaten. He didn't even lift his head as the heroes entered the room.

"You are not welcome here!" she hissed.

"We have come for the dwarf! Give him to us!" replied Venmir.
"No. He has promised us great wealth, and we shall collect. You must leave, or we will kill you." she promised.

"We aren't here to fight. We just want the dwarf - and we want to find his mask..." said Sigurd.

"He does not have it - that's why he was here. He was using Diderius' divination pool to find that which he treasured more than anything." hissed the priestess.

"The pool! Of course. How does it work? asked the swordsman.

"First you must fill it, then you must make a sacrifice of blood."

The party discussed the position for a moment, recognising the body in the pool room may have been for that exact purpose, and decided to barter for the dwarf.

"I can give you great wealth!" said the cleric, "and I can give it to you now! I offer you 200gp for the dwarf!" offered Venmir.

The others gasped at his tightfistedness.

"We're doomed..." whispered Sigurd.

"Your jokes are not welcome..." replied the high priestess.

"Why is everyone whispering?" asked Nyvan, in a quiet voice.

"That's how all snake-people talk," replied Sigurd, "they're sibilant...." 
"Oh."

"Then I offer you 2000gp!" said Venmir as he gestured grandly.

The others gasped at his generosity. It obviously wasn't his money.

"Very well. You may take him. But be aware - we have removed his soul and he will not be able to speak until you have removed him from this place."

The deal was done and the party scarpered. They encountered no resistance on the way out, but did find themselves watched carefully by dozens of eyes. They soon left and travelled back to Boareskyr Bridge, where they quickly imprisoned the dwarf, who had still not spoken and followed them meekly along the path without argument.

They quizzed the Wyrmspeaker and found out how his mask had been stolen by a female gnome, and he had been trying to recover it when he was captured by the snake-people. His use of the pool had helped him to locate the mask - it had been recovered by the cult, leaving him with nothing - and he knew his life was forfeit if he returned to Severin the Red with nothing. The dwarf was depressed and nothing could scare him, or lift his spirits.

The party took only half a day at the paladin keep before using their teleport scroll to return to Waterdeep...

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They appeared in the same monastery as before, and met with Leosin, who arranged for the incarceration of Varram and got a report from them of their actions. He confirmed he would begin preparations for them to visit the Sea of Moving Ice and try to recover the Draakhorn. He suggested they find a place to stay first of all.

Sigurd decided to ask a local where he could find a suitable inn. He pulled out a coin and summoned a beggar - within seconds he was surrounded by clutching hands. The others stood by, laughing.

He finally fought through the throng, before getting directions from one particular snot-nosed brat. He reached down to reward the urchin further, only to find his coin purse had been slit and was empty. He cursed loudly, slamming his empty purse to the ground theatrically.

They spent two days in The Golden Nut, relaxing and preparing for the trip ahead. They visited several shops to buy clothing and equipment for their trip. 

After two nights, they sat around the table, preparing for supper. The waitress came out, offering them all their usual drinks. Venmir noted her hand shaking as she put his drink down, and her smile lacked its usual verve. As she walked back into the kitchen, he alerted the others, and they followed her into the kitchen (everyone but Nyvan). 

Standing in the kitchen were two cultists putting a liquid of some sort into mugs. They looked momentarily shocked before pulling out their daggers and advancing on the heroes. At the same time, the front door burst inward, filling the room with sharp splinters of wood. Standing in the door way was a massive blue half-dragon, reminiscent of Cyanwrath (see early HotDQ episodes). Several staff lay dead on the floor.

They all dashed past before the half-dragon could ready himself, apart from Nandrin, who craftily made himself invisible. The two cultists dashed through from the kitchen as the half-dragon followed the heroes up the stairs. 

As Nandrin watched, a fourth figure walked into the tavern room. Powerfully built, and dressed like a cultist, he ordered the two cultists from the kitchen up the stairs. "Follow Gorger - and kill them all." He moved to the bottom of the stairs, waiting for word.

Upstairs, the half-dragon charged into the doorway on Nyvan's room, and growled, "Prepare to die, elf!".

"You first, I'll follow in several hundred years!" replied Nyvan, and then the two were locked in combat. Sigurd ran up behind him and started slashing at his back, ignoring the two cultists who now started attacking him from his flank. Venmir peppered them with arrows from further down the hall.

The only voice was Sigurd, calling out for the mage, but no-one knew where he was.

Downstairs, the ringleader stood at the base of the stairs. Nandrin snuck up behind him, before launching a volley of magic missiles in his back. Nandrin then dashed backwards into the street, the better to blow something up, not wanting to hurt any passers-by. The leader followed, cursing loudly, and he was again struck by Nandrin as her appeared in the doorway. Nandrin smiled to himself, pleased that his plan was working and that he would single-handedly kill the boss-man.

The man leapt forward, his knives a blur as they slammed into Nandrin's chest - how could he have moved so quickly? Nandrin stumbled backwards, dismayed.

Back upstairs, the battle raged, but the half-dragon, exchanging massive blows with Nyvan, could not stand up against both Nyvan and Sigurd. He fell to the floor, gurgling, while Sigurd turned to face the last cultist behind him. Nyvan stopped to heal himself, much to Sigurd's disgust. Sigurd, on his last feet, struck out at the last man in front of him, striking him down. He turned to cast a dismissive glare at Nyvan before asking, "Where's the mage?"

No one answered.

Outside, Nandrin lashed out with his magics, driving his enemy back a step - but not enough. He lashed out again with a dagger, cutting Nandrin's chest. He took an involuntary step backwards, before the man pulled an amulet from his shirt, which sent a blast of lightning into Nandrin's chest with massive force. He fell backwards onto the floor, the darkness over-taking him.

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"Where's the mage?" asked Sigurd.

"Downstairs, I guess." replied Sigurd.

They quickly moved downstairs, and it was Nyvan who found Nandrin's body in the street. He quickly checked the mage's pulse. It was weak and fluttering. Sadly, he had used all of his healing power selfishly recovering from his battle with the half-dragon. He looked through his pouch, and luckily found a healing potion. He poured it down the mage's throat.

The others ran out, just in time to see Nandrin recover from his wounds. His clothes were smoking and covered in blood. The leader of the evil-doers was nowhere to be seen.

He and Sigurd had a blazing row about tactics - which mainly revolved around a mage trying to take on the leader of an enemy kill squad on his own. Nandrin believed it was a chance at glory, and worth the risk. The others didn't.

As they stood in the aftermath, the city guard arrived. The Guard Sergeant quickly demanded that the heroes drop their weapons. Venmir stood firm, his bow in his hand. 

"Check my pouch. It has a writ in it." said the cleric.

"What does it say?" asked the Sergeant, unwilling to trust a stranger. He hadn;t survived this long in a city like Waterdeep by believing everyone he heard.

"Fine! I'll get it out." said Venmir as he dropped his bow. His hand dropped to his pouch.

"Halt! Just tell me what it says." demanded the sergeant.

"No! You should just read it!" 

"You will tell me what it says, now! 

"Just read the fucking writ, you moron!"

Sigurd, keen to avoid further issues, quickly interjected.

"We are working on behalf of the Council of Waterdeep. Our writs give us powers to act." said Sigurd, speaking placatingly to the guardsman.

At the explanation, the matter cooled down and the writs were shown. 

Sigurd took the time to discuss the situation with the landlord, and the party ended up paying more than 2k in reparations to the landlord and to the families of the staff who were dead.

As they discussed it, another Guard walked in. The Lord Protector of the City guard cut an impressive figure, and he spent a few minutes discussing the situation with the sergeant. When he was done, he approached Venmir.

"Sir, I am the Lord Protector of the Waterdeep City Guard." he waited for an acknowledging nod from Venmir before continuing. "I understand that you work at the behest of The Council of Waterdeep, and act under the auspices of Lady Silverhand. However, I do not believe your authority extends to the abuse of my men. I would suggest, strongly, that you treat my men with respect. They put their lives on the line every day and every night - and they should not have to expect such treatment at the hands of those who they are required to assist. I would not want to have to report this kind of situation to Lady Silverhand. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Venmir nodded.

"Then the matter is resolved and will not be mentioned again." (apart from in this blog!)

At that, a messenger arrived to warn them that Leosin was waiting to speak with them. They headed off immediately.

They met with Leosin, who told them that he had found them a ship, called the FrostSkimmr, which would take them into the Sea of Moving Ice. It was captained by his friend, Captain Larustah. An enigmatic man, who always wore a hood and had been horribly disfigured at some point in the past. He suggested they not mention the hood.

They went straight to the docks, where the ship awaited.

Lerustah met them on the dock. He greeted them cordially and made sure they were well-equipped for the trip. After a few minutes of discussions, the party prepared to board the ship. Nandrin stopped to talk with the Captain.

He mumbled something about fashion statements and finished with, "I don't think David Beckham would be seen dead in that!"

The seaman glared at him from under the edge of his hood.

"I don't know who that is. Get on my ship, dickhead."

Nandrin paused for a moment, then walked up the gangplank to the giggles of his companions...