Vandis Isle

Beggar's Missive
Wherein Monish is given a letter.

My Rage Knight,

I will not apologize for the steps I took to entice you to Yartar. Too long has this relationship been on your terms, and not my own. I do not expect you will forgive me, in fact I count on you never doing so. I forsee a day when you will return to right this wrong, but that day is not soon.

You are sensible man Rage Knight, for now my reach is longer, and my arm is stronger.

But enough of such posturing. You have done well. I am pleased, and in being so pleased have made recommendations on your behalf within The Network. You are hereby granted the rank of Wolf. The coin contained within this missive, if shown to the correct people, is worth far more than its weight in gold.

I look forward to your continued success on the behalf of myself, your sponsor, and The Zhentarium. Your welcome at my inn is intact, and I look forward to your subsequent visits.

May paths continue prosperously until the inevitable time when our blades shall cross,

N.

-From a letter given to Monish Knight in Yartar by an urchin that smelled as if he or she lived beneath a midden heap. Enclosed in the letter was a single golden coin, stamped with the insignia of the Black Network.

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The Walls Talk
Wherein Panapapi has a conversation with a familiar no one.

Panapapi Ticcotarp Copperspackle leaned against the wall near the eastern gate of Yartar feeling the rough stone press cooly into his back. He was leafing through loose piles of reports he had requested from The Alliance shortly after his friends had left to try and discover more about Mattahar. The reports, mainly just notes scrawled from various agents, look-outs, and sometimes unsuspecting shop keepers, held little of the information he needed. This lack of information annoyed the gnome, not only because he was annoyed by information in any form that eluded him, but because he was fond of Mattahar. He had been her first adventuring companion after she was freed from slavery, in the cave of the necromancer. Although that hadn’t ended up going too well for her, and she was always very interested in what Papapani had to say, and was always friendly. More importantly, she always seemed to smell nice, even when they were on the road. Papapani appreciated people who made efforts to be considerate like that. Most people, unaware of their olfactory presence, would not go to any effort unless something was said. But Mattahar clearly thought of others, and showed it through her concerted effort to remain bereft of offending odors.

The gnome continued to scan the strips of parchment with hastily scrawled notes. Papapani would say one thing for Yartar, by large it seemed that the various sources within the city had extraordinarily tidy handwriting. A thing, Papapani felt, all too often , was not given enough credence when taken the measure of a person.

Apparently, the gnome discovered, some faction called the Kraken society was making a play in Yartar. This bothered the Zhents, and Papapani had no doubt that the caravan he was just part of in some way helped tipped the balance in the Zhent’s favor. What is more, the quick-minded gnome saw the opportunity to alert the Harper’s to a couple of activities, causing both factions no small amount of discomfort. He scrolled his notes accordingly, instructing the actions of some of the lesser agents. Papapani was not necessarily fond of The Harpers, but he was about fed up with the Zhentarim, and this Kraken Society sounded like a collection of lunatics.

“Redknife Ocelot,” a familiar female voice sounded from the wall behind him. Litteraly , a slendor lipped mouth took shape in the stone behind him. The gnome adjusted enough to obstruct the view of this magic mouth from any passerby’s.

Papapani could acknowledge the skill the speaker was showing in disguising her voice, but she had a long way to go. The gnome was already making a list in his mind of “helpful corrections” to review with her before her next attempt.

Savra Belabranta ," Papapani said quietly, “How is everything at home?”

“It’s Cloak Slyph!” Savra blurted out, clearly hurt by her failure, and making no attempt to mask her voice.

Papapani thought of explaining to Savra that using a secret name is pointless when you identity is not, in fact, a secret. What is more, he was certain no one was in range to over hear them. If anyone walked by they would simply see what looked to be a crazy gnome talking to a wall. At present, Papapani didn’t have time for her nonsense today, even if he did sometimes find it charming.

“Very well,” The gnome continued, “Cloak Slyph, what news from the Spire? Is Mattahar there?”

“She is not, Ocelot,” Savra continued. “Nor has she been seen in Red Larch.”

“Very well,” Papapani had suspected as much, and was somewhat delighted to go poking around this Sacred Stone Monastery sooner rather than later. “Tomorrow under the guise of a Society outing, lead the members present to the spot I have marked here,” Papapani showed a map to the wall behind him. “Circle, and be seen circling for a full count of thiry-one, before leading the members of the club off.”

“To what end?” Savra inquired, confused by her instructions.

Papapani could have told Savra that by her being there, the Zhents moving a particular load of “weapons” to Yartar would think the society was air cultists, and swing to the east to avoid trouble. He could have told Savra that when the Zhents swung east, it would catch the attention of an Order patrol who, now that they had established their presence in the keep, would inevitably be moving through the area the Zhents were being rerouted to. He further could have told Savra that the Harpers shadowing the Order patrol would find the actual weapons caravan. The Order would be chasing a decoy, and the Harpers would find the caravan that held the plans Nalaskur Thaelond had sent up for his agents in Yartar. Panapapi could have explained that not only would her simple action disrupt the Zhent’s plans in Yartar, but be a significant thorn in the side of Nalaskur, a person he had taken a strong dislike to. This conflict would further fane the flames between Harpers, Zhent’s, all the while not allowing any of the three groups to establish a powerful foothold in Yartar. No foot hold meant that Lord’s Alliance remained the strongest organization working behind the scenes in Yartar, a city Panapapi felt was worth protecting if for no other reason than their attention to legible written communication

Instead Panapapi sighed heavily, leaned against the wall saying, “Because, Cloak Slyph, I said so. And while I have the utmost of hope that that answer is so unsatisfactory to you that you are able to deduce the actual reasons, it will have to suffice for now. A full count of 31, not a second less.”

“Very well Ocelot,” Savra continued. “Please be safe and return to the Spire quickly. There are some here you miss you.”

Panapapi could only marvel at that response as he made his way to go find his friends.

“Some miss me?” The gnome thought. “How can anyone who has ever met me, not miss me?”

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The Long Road
Wherein the heroes escort a Zhent caravan to Yartar.

The heroes agreed to escort an important caravan from Bargewright Inn to Yartar, making Nalaskur Thaelond’s kidnapping of Mattahar unnecessary. Monish Knight and Nalaskur had final words, issuing warnings to one another.

Under the guidance of Haeler Thommandur as caravan master, the heroes successfully guarded the Zhent caravan until it reached Yartar. The heroes fended off attacks by a group of bandits. The bandits knew something of value was on the caravan, although the heroes never were able to determine what it was.

Panapapi Ticcotarp Copperspackle discovered some lock boxes in the false floor of one of the wagons. However he was unable to get one open in time to see what the boxes contained.

Upon arrival in Yartar, after splitting off from the caravan, the heroes were ambushed by what seemed to be trained Ankhegs.

When the heroes made their way to the place where Mattahar was supposedly being held, they discovered three dead Zhent thugs, evidence of a missing chest, and no sign of Mattahar. Further investigation yielded some strange findings that the heroes are puzzling over.

The heroes are going to spend a day trying to find some information on Mattahar’s whereabouts in Yartar before heading to Sacred Stone Monastery to see if Mattahar is waiting for them there, if she isn’t there they plan on heading to The Feathergale Spire.

Rewards:
Experience: 625 each.
Renown: Monish Knight, +4 Zhents. (Whatever you did it was a big deal…)

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Bright Lights Cast Deep Shadows
Wherein Mattahar begins to find something, even as she loses her freedom.

Mattahar sat, cross-legged, trying to focus on her connection with Lathandar. Damn but it was so distracting being back. Matthar liked Bargewright Inn not at all, even less now that she was free. She knew Nalaskur Thaelond would not be pleased with the events at Rivergard Keep. Although Nalaskur played as if uninterested, having a secure fort in the middle of the north-south river route would have been highly beneficial to the Zhents, escalating Nalaskur’s importance within the Black Network. Likely the meeting between Nalaskur and Monish Knight would not end in bloodshed, the innkeeper was far too careful. As much it pained her to admit it, Monish and his companions, though extremely powerful, and growing more so every day, were still out matched here. This was still very much Zhent territory.

Mattahar struggled to push those thoughts away now. She needed to reestablish her connection with the benevolent force that had preserved her life, and the life of her new friends. Like an old friend, that life giving nimbus had been with her as she recovered from her wracking disease, and it had been bestowed upon her anew when she fell with Panapapi Ticcotarp Copperspackle in the necromancer’s cave. She had been ready to die that day, as she had every day since she awoke with no recollection of her life before. Yet each time it seemed inevitable that Lathander’s will would see her granted another day. She tried to empty her mind, imaging her fears and doubts as inky wraps that bound her, calling upon Lathander’s nimbus to burn her darkness away in the glaring grace of the Morning Lord. She would feel purified as her bonds dissolved in the marvelous hues of sunrise as she had every day since she had known Lathander’s will..

“Matty, listen!” A voice sounded as if behind her. Maybe behind her, for a brief second Mattahar thought, “Not behind me, from behind me, from a time behind me.”

Mattahar’s eyes shot open at the voice and she wheeled back almost falling over. Mattahar glanced around, yet there was no one in the sparse room within the inn that she had taken. Yet Mattahar was sure that she had heard that voice. And how strange, so familiar. Mattahar had never gone by “Matty” for as long as she remembered. Yet now hearing it, it sounded like an old fit, a familiar fit.

Mattahar righted herself and closed her eyes, trying to focus again as she chanted canticles of Lathander under her voice. Once again she saw her self wrapped in the black bindings, and once again she summoned the nimbus to burn them away.

“Matty stop!” The voice came again, this time almost a shout. “This Morninglord has served ye for a time, but our’s is not his way. Our way is to be bound by the darkness. The bindings hide the dark deeds we do to bring forth the light.”

Mattahar did not open her eyes this time. She had heard of these things before. Wherein powers fell and foul seek to turn the faithful to their will. Sweat beading on her brow, Matthar willed the nimbus to burn brighter and put an end to the darkness binding her.

“Suren, ye are a stubborn one Hebner,” the voice’s lilt contained a measure of fury. “Perhaps it is ta’ soon.”

Mattahar knew the voice she heard like it was an old friend’s, more familiar still, perhaps a family member?

Likely some wrathful priest of the Zhents now sought to get revenge on Mattahar for some sleight, and would see her undone by causing her to lose faith. Mattahar cried out now, calling to her Morning Lord. She poured forth her belief from her soul, and the nimbus of sunlight flared like a fire when dry straw is tossed upon it.

“Gor damn ya,” The voice cursed, yet there was amusement beneath it as well. “They come fer ye, Matty. They come to make Monish, ”/characters/rinn" class=“wiki-content-link”>Rinn, and Panapapi Ticcotarp Copperspackle do their will. Suren they chose right, I made the same decision me’self afore I knew ’em. But when they come Matty-girl, we need to let them take ye!"

Mattahar was confused. What was this tempter saying? Who was coming?

“Listen!”

The voice was growing fainter as fewer and fewer of the dark bindings held Mattahar. She could feel them about to give, her chest swelling as if to help her Morning Lord in any way she could, being so close to freedom this day.

“They will take ye to it Matty!” The voice was almost a whisper now. “Look fer the iron box that ye were found with. It is there, and they will take ye to it.”

The nimbus swelled with its radiance, and there was a whoosh of flame. The dark bindings burst from Mattahar into so many pieces of shredded cloth. There was a stillness in Mattahar as she filled the well of power within herself that she called on to perform Lathander’s will.

And yet, there was also another image. One not her own, yet it belonged to her. It was a dark iron chest, wrapped in chains across the length and width, held fast with a pocked and battered iron lock. And within that chest was an orb. No it was once an orb, now it was black stone, matte in sheen, and looking every bit inert. It was broken into four pieces, the fractures jagged, but clean.

Mattahar did not startle as the Zhent thugs burst through her door. Nor did she put up any resistance as they laid rough hands on her, seizing her from her sitting position and sliding the cloth bag that stank of molding citrus over her head. She felt her hands bound behind her, as was stricken by a thought she was not certain was her own, "They should’a done the knot on the inside of me wrists, high enough up that me fingers couldn’t get ta’ it.

As Mattahar was drug from her room in the Bargewright Inn she focussed once again on the nimbus, wrapping herself in it and wearing it like a shimmering cloak. And as she did, she willed the black wraps that were already forming around her to ascend along her radiant cloak, creating a deep cowl of darkness over her head, in which she could hide a face, now flush with exhilaration.

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Contact's Contact
Wherein Inglor finds some things out for Monish.

Water ran in finger-width runnels down the hillside forming a slick sheen of grey-brown film that coated the broken stoney ground. Sporadic gusts of chill northern wind howled across the road, causing the scrub and thin trees to bend over on themselves. The yellow-grey sky rumbled distantly on occasion, as if encouraging the dwarf who now huddled into his deep cowled traveling cloak, to expedite his shaggy mount’s pace.

Inglor Brathren cast a crude gesture towards the sky, unmoved by its threats. The shaggy, cream-colored, pony that now bore him to a little known inn along the road had proven to be sure of foot and pace over the years. Inglor could see the shack that served as the Bent Reed Inn through the horizontal sheet of rain. The building could be as easily confused for a ramshackle heap of timber and reclaimed river logs. A few windows, not shuttered tight against the storm and a hand painted sign displaying the name of the establishment are the only things indicating it might be more then a pile of debris.

Inglor was not fond of leaving Bargewright Inn but he had enjoyed his meetings with the strange little man he would find inside the Bent Reed, and he knew the information would be good. Inglor couldn’t remember exactly how he had met Sess the Blackling. The strange halfling, all chiseled muscle and skin like polished teak, had made a name for himself as a smuggler in the last few years, virtually coming out of no where. It was said he could do impossible things at the helm of the shallow drafted boats used in the valley, and Inglor had witnessed first hand The Blackling’s expertise.

Inglor noticed the huge wagon with the river boats on either side, both painted brown-black like the murky depths of the deepest parts of the river, and knew Sess was already here.

“Brathen, what are wanting with knowledge about ”/wikis/sacred-stone-monastery" class=“wiki-page-link”> Sacred Stone Monastery son?" Sess’s deep voice tried to hide the smile in his shining eyes. “Almost like ye knew I just had a load what needed to be dropped off in those parts?”

“Almost,” Inglor answered without answering.

“Might not be room for your lot there now, that last load was a big one, like to fill the whole place. All hulking forms and honey colored hair,” Sess had left his tankard of ale, a brew that looked more like dishwater, untouched. “They were draped in furs, and their belts hung with big axes and swords. They were led by savage beauty, I always liked scars, called herself a Shield Maiden or some such. They had blue tattoos all over and didn’t talk much.”

“This is pretty far south for that kind of cargo,” Inglor said absently.

“At’s what I ’fought,” Sess continued. “Stranger still was that were accompanied by orc, or maybe half-orc. I don’t roightly know. He was well enough behaved, and if he said two words I can’t remember them. And not just to me, but to any of them. It was obvious that he was wiv’ them, but not, like wiv’ em.”

Inglor, realizing Sess had no use for the tankard he had bought for the halfling, reached across the table and took a swig, before wincing. Inglor was appalled with every sip, once again trying to figure out how the ale always had a salty tang, like sweat dripping into his mouth, at the Bent Reed.

“So, what did they want with the monastery?” Inglor said through a cringe.

“Not roightly sure, son,” Sess continued his voice going quiet. “They said their god-spirit, somefin’ like a Squall-Ox, or Thunderbull or somefing, told them that their missing tribe mates were there, in a dream. Their leader went on about how men in earth-colored robes and masks took their tribe mates and forced them beneath the earth. Said people come to the monastery to join and serve. And in the dream they saw some are made to serve the svartalfs_-”

Svartalfs?” Inglor interupted.

“Translates to night elves, or darkness elf, but from their description they sounded more like grey skinned dwarven folk,” Sess grinned. “Seems they can’t tell your kind and elves apart, son.”

Inglor scrawled down everything Sess was telling him.

“Whut’s ’at then?” Sess said flicking his sharp chin at Inglor’s writing. “You writin’ a book, son?”

“Information for a friend,” Inglor said without looking up. A huge grin split his craggy face. Monish Knight had done right by Inglor. Maybe he was his friend at that. “And once delivered, I will wait a few days then sell it up to the Network. So then, what became of the cargo?”

“No idear, son,” Sess said pouring some water from a chipped clay pitcher into a more chipped clay cup. “I dropped ‘em, got me fistful of coin, well two fistfull on account of me hands being so small, and headed here to meet wiv’ my friend Brathen.”

Inglor smiled ruefully as he produced a purse with enough coin to to see Sess’s inky black fists filled a second time, and tossed it across the ramshackle table, causing it land with a clink and thunk. The Blackling didn’t make a move to grab it.

“What is next for the esteemed Sess the Blackling?” Inglor inquired as concluded his notes.

“The Order has taken ”/wikis/rivergard-keep" class=“wiki-page-link”> Rivergard Keep and have made for a bad day for any amateur smuggler on the river," Sess said nonchalantly. “So business is good for those what aren’t amateurs, son. I will make the north-south runs through the winter. Make sure the Network knows it too.”

With that Sess’s quick hands had the Inglor’s purse open, and the Blackling plucked a small sum from it, far less than most would seek to be paid for information. There was a strange sense of honor to the Blackling, and he seemed content to just take what he needed. Also, Inglor suspected, Sess was not too keen to work for the Zhents, but they paid better than the Harpers.

Inglor stood, and Sess stood with him, his muscular form rippling.

“Be safe Blackling,” Inglor told Sess sincerely.

Sess’s black face split with a white grin, “You too Brathen.”

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Papapani's most curious fruit selection
Wherein Papapani hears from his old friends.

From a missive found beneath a particularly succulent fire-rind fruit selected from a cart in Bargewright Inn that was contained within a simple golden band.

Redknife Ocelot,

We have come to understand that by your direct means, not only have you managed to lessen the threat in Dessarin Valley, but also manage to make contact with both the Harpers and the Zhents. Your ability to continually surpass our expectations as led to many an interesting conversation in clandestine Waterdhavian parlors and salons.

We are pleased with your performance and offer this token that can be used to show your affiliation when the command word, “excelsior” is uttered.

M.

Panapapi Ticcotarp Copperspackle‘s mind already had begun unraveling the circumstances of this missive’s delivery before he had completed the reading. The parchment the note was elegantly scrawled upon was low in quality, far too rough for any stationary supplied in Waterdeep, so likely the missive was drafted here. What is more, though there were known diviners among the ranks of the Lord’s Alliance, the Alliance was not frivolous with that sort of thing. No, likely the hiding of this missive was not done by magic, but good old fashioned skullduggery, which meant the messenger had to have eyes on Papapani. Lastly, Papapani’s keen eyes took in that the fire-rind bore minuscule bruising at the top, not the bottom, meaning the fruit was likely placed from above. Within seconds Papapani had located the messenger, who was trying to remain hidden in a window sill a few stories above the cart Papapani nodded to the messenger, uncaring whether or not they knew he was acknowledging them, before moving on as he pocket the simple golden band ring. Papapani cared not at all for Bargewright Inn, or the Zhents that ran it, and he was eager to have Monish Knight’s business concluded.

.

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Conclusion of the Assault on Rivergard Keep
Wherein the hereos begin to become involved with interested parties in Dessarin Valley

Monish Knight recognized the flag of the infamous pirate captain Shoalar Quanderil and saw the opportunity to negotiate a retreat from Rivergard Keep, as all the heroes realized that if they continued to make their stand, likely one or more of them would die to the cultists who occupied the keep.

Upon their leaving, under the suggestion of Rinn, the heroes rallied the help of The Order of the Gauntlet. The heroes were reunited with Erned Stoutblade as the knight had assembled a group of men to go crusading with him in the north against the Ice Shield orcs. Sir Stoutblade agreed to assist the heroes, and together the heroes and Sir Stoutblade captured Rivergard and helped establish it as a river out post for The Order of the Gauntlet.

Prior to the taking of the keep, the heroes met with a Harper troupe who has been very active in the valley, discovering that Nitasys is affiliated with the organization. The heroes have agreed to investigate that other two keeps while the Harpers try to figure out what is going on.

Next the heroes head to the Sacred Stone Monastery, where there are rumors of golden masked monks involved in nefarious activity.

Exp per character: Please advance to level 5.
Renown: All characters gain a +1 to The Order of the Gauntlet and The Harpers. Rinn gains an additional +1 renown with The Order of the Gauntlet. Monish gets -3 renown with the Zhents.
Treasure:
830 sp, 140 gp, 12 pp, 400 ep, 6 agates (10 gp each), 3 jaspers (70 gp each), 15 azurites (10 gp each), potion of healing, potion of diminution, scroll of haste, scroll of wall of water.

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Assault on Rivergard Keep
Wherein the heroes fought against the denizens of Rivergard Keep without ever leaving the room.

Monish Knight was eager to finalize his debts with the Zhentarim after their efforts to revive Mattahar by sacking Rivergard Keep. Based on the intel provided by his contact, Inglor Brathren Knight proposed an attack. The final plan was one of stealth and investigation, however the raid actually manifested as bloody stand against a full three quarters of the denizens within Rivergard Keep. After constant battle, the heroes were able to get a short reprieve.

The upper level of the south west watchtower now looked more like a carnal house. Spilled blood and viscera splattered the floor, creating a viscous and foul-smelling mud that the floor slick. The lower level was a heap of corpses, their dead eyes staring out from atop one another, as if watching the people on the floor above. The gatehouse had truly become a gruesome refuge where the heroes rested quietly, save Matthar, who knelt in the middle of the tower and quietly offered prayers to her Morning Lord.

A solid “thud” shattered the quiet, followed by another, as someone, or something, was trying to break down the door on the lower level. Simultaneously, both Knight and Rinn called out they had movement from either side as both witnessed what looked like commoners, under duress, being herded towards the upper northern and eastern doors, each with a maul or axe. The captives were being forced forward by three bugbears to the north, and three reavers that were being marshalled by a sour-faced man with a droopy moustache and an arrogant manner, to the east. Both parties of captors had hewn apart tables, serving as make shift tower shields. Keeping themselves hidden, and their captives in between them and the doors, the captors were forcing the commoners forward as they barked at them to, “Get those bloody doors down!”

Concurrently, a female voice, cracked and hoarse, began shouting praises and exonerations to something called “Olhydra” from the courtyard below. She speaks a relentless oratory about the “truth of deep waters” and “great revelations” to come.

Total Exp. Earned: 321 each.
Treasure: 150 sp, 40 gp, potion of healing (consumed?), potion of diminution.

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Siege at Dellmon Ranch
Wherein the heroes stood alongside commoners against an orcish warband, and survived to see the dawn.

Despite her instructions to rest from nearly everyone, Widow Hebner joined Nitasys, Monish Knight, and Rinn on an aerial patrol of the areas surrounding The Feathergale Spire while they awaited Inglor Brathren’s information in regards to Rivergard Keep.

Almost a full day’s flight from the tower, the heroes encountered the Anderil farm, which had been attacked and looted by orcs. The orcs absconded with the pregnant wife of the farmer, the two field hands, as well as all of the Anderil’s belongings. The heroes tracked the orcs and made short work of them, rescuing the abducted commoners.

With no place to go since their farm had been destroyed, Selwyn Anderil asked the heroes to help escort he and his wife to Dellmon Ranch. Upon arrival, the heroes discovered that Erned Stoutblade had arrived just before them with news of a warband of Iceshield orcs that was descending upon the ranch. There was not enough time for the people at the ranch to escape, and everyone there would have to make a stand against the orcs.

Knight and Rinn rallied their make shift forces and battled the orcs for sixteen hours, trying to repel the brutes from over taking the ranch. Finally, as the orc’s made for their final press, Nitasys was able to locate the leader of the warband. Trusting their new allies to hold the ranch, Knight, Rinn, Nitasys, and Mattahar made a daring counter attack.

Falling from the sky on their mounts to strike at the orcish leader, a powerful priest favored by Gruumsh, and his seven orcish bodyguards, the heroes issued forth a great challenge. Their challenge was met with brutish devotions to Gruumsh by their foe. The heroes delivered swift defeat to the priest, and encircled then ranch on their flying mounts, showing the invaders the head of their leader and the burning Iceshield standard. With their leader slain, the remaining orcs no longer had the organization to press the siege. The brutes were repelled, and although some brave ranchers, farmers, and homesteaders lost their lives, the ranch and the people taking refuge there were saved.

Total exp. each: 781
Treasure recovered from what the orcs had taken in all of their marauding:
2,500 cp, 1,400 sp, 120 gp
Embroidered silk handkerchief, copper chalice with silver filigree x3, worth 23 gp each.
Dust of sneezing and choking, potion of fire breath.
Renown:
Knight: +1 Order of the Gauntlet, +1 Common People of Dessarin Valley, +1 Emerald Enclave
Rinn: +2 Order of the Gauntlet, +1 Common People of Dessarin Valley, +1 Emerald Enclave
Downtime Activities:
Papapani has spent four days worth of downtime contributing to the business of the Feathergale Society.

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Storming Feathergale Spire
Wherien the heroes remove the Feathergale Society from Feathergale Spire

Having scaled the cliff face, and entering The Feathergale Spire through the stables, the heroes fought their way through the Feathergale Society, finally doing battle with Thurl Merosska.

Panapapi Ticcotarp Copperspackle returned Savra Belabranta to Waterdeep, as she was mortified for her participation in the society, once the society’s true intent was revealed to her.

Monish Knight and Rinn returned to the Bargewright Inn to broker a deal for Widow Hebner to be brought back to life. In order to do so, Knight agreed to join the Zhentarim as well as capture Rivergard Keep for the Zhentarim.

Monish has asked Inglor Brathren to gather intelligence for him on Rivergard. He has also asked Nitasys to look after the Feathergale Spire while they run handle this “errand”.

Total Exp each: 769
Treasure: ) 540, potion of heroism, scroll of beast bond, scroll of skywrite
Renown:
Papapani – Lord’s Aliiance +2, gained Inspiration
Rinn – Order of the Guantlet +1
Monish – Zhentarim +2.

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