FEATURED ADVENTURERS:
Afik Bonefinger - Mountain Dwarf Fighter - Level 1: Once a proud sailor, now fears the sea after a terrible disaster sank the ship. Fears large things; loves short things.
Uther Valenz - Scourge Aasimar Warlock - Level 1: Channels lightning-themed magic through "the electron," an element he recently learned to harness.
Mox - Goblin Ranger - Level 1: Blunt and open, prefers to help those who are close to him. Not afraid to fight dirty. Is also generally dirty.
The Great Klardini - High Elf Wizard - Level 1: Relearning his magic after losing his spellbook decades ago. Slipped into senility after reaching 700+ years of age.
Varian Bloomstrike - Eladrin Paladin - Level 1: Sworn to protect the natural world and all its creatures. A native of the Feywild guided by the light of Spring.
It’s been twenty-five years since Kinchasa was raised from the pits of Avernus and thrown back to the Material Plane. Since then, those proud heroes from Season 2 faded into legends, legends faded into myths, and myths faded into wherever myths fade to. Probably lore. These myths feel quite lore-ish right now in the world.
Thus, our story begins out of lore, out of myth, and out of legend—more of a tale, really. Or a jaunt. A happenstance, maybe? No, this is a session!
Thus, our session begins thusly!
In the small desert city of Semnu Island, a desert island surrounded entirely by water, as most islands are, the hustle and bustle begins to rustle as muscles tussle for sprouts of brussels. This dwarven city is a pinnacle of engineering and stonework, rising up from the steamy ocean, glistening in its golden sands and towering monoliths. Traders ply their trade and plyers trade their pliers as the elected officials, the Semnators, do government shit at the Semnate.
Yet in the sanctuary of divine Kusha, the goddess of Being Good, the priestess Keti summons forth two lowly characters to help haul some of her shit down to a new shrine being built along the craggy coast.
Afik Bonefinger steps forth. A short and stout dwarf, his fear of the ocean keeps him landlocked and trapped on Semnu Island—a great disaster happened to him while at sea, and his timbers were shivered so badly that he dares not set foot on a boat again.
Tailing behind Afik, tall and lean, towers Uther Valenz, an aasimar magician whose mastery of atomic structure has granted him a novitiate control over the electron and manipulation of space time.
“How tall are you?” Afik says to Uther.
“I don’t know. Let me see.” Uther says, looking at his character sheet. “I’m six feet—and I have wings!”
“I don’t like you at all,” Uther says, revealing yet another phobia—one of tall people and tall things.
Afik is scared a lot.
“How tall are you supposed to be?” Uther says.
“I’m shorter than the average dwarf…” Afik says, thinking about his height. He thinks about height a lot.
Keti steps forth—she’s very pretty, with silver-gray hair and bright eyes. We don’t know why her go-to contacts to complete her task are a sailor who's afraid of the water and some heavenly being who rambles off about this thing called an “electron,” but the session demands it!
Also she has a yoga studio on the side.
“Hello there, young Afik and Uther. My name is Keti,” she says, posing yoga-ishly. “We have many supplies needed for the Craggy Coast Shrine. Please see the cart.”
She points at a wooden cart loaded with boxes and crates.
“Unfortunately we have no horse to move it—and no camels, so you will have to move it by hand,” she says, aware that the Goddess of Being Good isn’t a Goddess of Being Efficient.
“All right, um… what’s the reward?” Uther says.
“To serve Kusha is its own reward!” Keti announces, then smiles. “But since not many follow the narrow path of mine…” she hands over a little baggie to each of them that contains five silver pieces and a free lunch coupon to the Sorcerous Maiden tavern. The coupons have no expiration date!
“Oi!” Afik shouts.
“Oh that’s great,” Uther says. “All right, Afik, let’s deliver this stuff and go grab some grub!”
Afik and Uther stair at the horseless-and/or-camelless-drawn carriage... don't worry, the carriage will be drawn shorly. By me.
“… All right, tall guy.” Afik nudges Uther.
“Can anyone, like, turn into a horse? Is that thing we can do?” Uther says
“That’s not a thing that we can do now,” Afik says.
They stand in silence…
“Okay well my Strength is like 8 so…” Uther begins.
“Looks like I’m pulling the cart!” Afik admits.
Uther picks up a pole that he then casts light on, and dangles it in front of Afik to give him something to follow as he hauls on the supply cart. He’s so short that he can barely tell the light pole from the sun itself—and the pair trudge onward through the streets towards the beach.
The cart is officially drawn!
Down at the beach, the shrine to Kusha is under construction, but under the under construction is a little goblin named Mox. Mox is a sneaky little fellow lurking about the Kusha shrine because…
“I hate her,” Mox says, waking up from under the under construction signs. His hangover is overwhelming him underneath the overcast underside overall, but underlying overabundance of underproofed booze overdosed his underused brain overnight into slumber under an hour—overall, a night well spent.
Understand?
Joke’s overdone.
Mox is surrounded by several monks working tirelessly to build the shrine. One of them shouts at his stirring, “Ah! I thought you were a statue!”
“I thought you were smarter than that!” Mox says. What an asshole! He shakes his head and sees two new people approaching the site while toting a cart. It's a dwarf-drawn carriage!
Afik approaches the site and sees the goblin—it’s the only person around shorter than him. Afik immediately likes the goblin.
“Oi! Let’s be friends!” Afik shouts.
“Are you the manager here?” Uther says to Mox, hopping off the cart. “We brought you some supplies.”
Mox lies and says he's the manager, pretending that the supplies belong to him. He begins digging through the supplies.
“Oh, I want some of these supplies too,” Uther says, also digging through the supplies.
Afik also rummages through the supplies.
It’s a supplies party.
“You weren’t bringing your supplies! You were bringing my supplies!” Mox says, fighting over the supplies that are neither his nor theirs.
“We have coupons!” Afik argues.
“We’re just nosey!” Uther adds.
Mox, also nosey, lights up. “Coupons!? Coupons for what?”
“For food,” Afik says.
Mox feels his stomach gurgle. “I want food.”
“Go get a coupon!” Afik says.
Uther’s electron begins to whirl in his mind, the electroencephalography causing his wits to hatch a plan, “What we can do is we can put you two in a trenchcoat, then we can get in with just one coupon.”
“I’m on top!” Mox shouts for dibs.
“Stand on me shoulders!” Afik shouts.
“Happily!” Mox says.
They climb atop each other, and Uther takes one of the clerical vestments for Kusha out of the supplies box and drapes it over his two companions. They are now a dwarf and a goblin in a trenchcoat but the trenchcoat is church clothes.
“Ah I can see so far!” Mox says from atop his dwarf.
“Tell me about it,” Afik says from beneath his goblin.
Is this what it’s like all the time?” Mox says, thinking about regularly-heightened individuals.
“I don’t know!” Afik says.
Collectively, the duo is now over eight feet tall, taller than any goblin or dwarf dared to dream in all of their short, dirt-covered dreams.
“You see, people know you’re a dwarf,” Mox says. “But they don’t really know what I am, they’ll just say ‘a far-off adventurer from the ocean!’ Have you heard of the ocean?”
“We’re on an island,” Uther points out, kicking some beach sand.
Afik begins to tremble. “The ocean! I don’t want to think about it! I lost everyone!”
“Well some of us were teleported here,” Uther points out, like a jackass.
Mox commands Afik to lean them over so that he can rummage through the supplies again and steal stuff—while doing so, he finds a container of parchments, opens it up, but before he can look at what they say, Afik reaches a hand out and plucks the container out of his hands—which looks quite confusing to anyone else who happens to be watching.
Afik opens one of the scrolls to reveal that the entire case is full of wanted posters! A goblin’s face is on the poster, and the face looks suspiciously like the face of the goblin on top of him. The wanted poster says, WANTED: GOBLIN; CRIME: THROWING FECES AT LOCAL SEMNATORS IN THE PARADE; REWARD: 20 GOLD PIECES.
“Hey, can I see that for a second?” Mox says.
“Is this you?” Afik says, passing the poster up.
“Are you saying all goblins look the same?” Mox says, panicking at the poster.
Mox squints at the poster, then sees written in small letters at the bottom: KNOWN AT LARGE AS “THE POOP CHILD.”
“The Poop Child!?” Mox shouts. “I’m an adult! I mean… this goblin is clearly an adult!” Mox looks at the scroll case full of wanted posters down in Afik’s clutches. “Can I see that?”
“No!” Afik says. “I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place!” he adds, standing between a goblin and the ground. “What do you want with these?”
“I want them to stop existing!” Mox says. “I see you have an adventurer’s pack—do you have flint and tinder in there?”
“Oh yeah I think I do—here, hold these scrolls for me.”
Afik hands the case of scrolls to Mox while he rummages for flint and tinder, and Mox hurls back the scroll case and tosses it into the ocean off the Craggy Coast—lid removed—so that the wanted posters are destroyed by the salty waves. The posters sink as though they were a boat full of Afik’s crew in a storm.
Too soon?
Afik leaps towards the scroll case as it’s thrown, but his footing slips and he tumbles out from beneath Mox. He lands in 1/8 inch deep water and freaks out, scrambling back up the beach. Mox reaches out and helps his lower half back onto dry-ish land.
“See? This is a valuable lesson about how us little guys have to stick together,” Mox says, finding more ways to take advantage of this traumatized sea captain.
Meanwhile, over at somewhere else on Semnu Island…
In a world of old farts, one fart is the oldest of all—the Great Klardini. Ancient in the ways of being old, Klardini stopped counting his age somewhere in the 700’s range. This elf, once an arcane master, misplaced his spellbook one fateful century, and has since forgotten everything.
He seeks to rebuild his arcane knowledge and find his old spellbook!
Today the Great Klardini finds himself in a dwarven foundry overlooked by Imuteb, a dwarf stuff-smith. Why is Klardini here?
Eh…
He thinks he needs to get his arcane focus refocused. Yearly checkups for arcane foci are highly recommended by all arcane elite—and failure to check your arcane focus could lead to a number of health hazards. Klardini’s prescription lies somewhere in the rank of “How Are You Still Alive?” and “We Don’t Know What This Is.”
Imuteb finishes altering the arcane focus. “Want me to polish it up for you?” he asks, taking his stuff-smithing tools.
“No! Don’t polish it up—it might mess up the arcane focus part of it,” Klardini says, referring to the arcane focus part of his arcane focus. “It needs to be in good condition, but not perfect condition, because that’s what makes it unique—you see. I got this pendant way back in the day a long time ago. I can’t even imagine the name of the person I bought it from, but I got it for half a copper piece. Half a copper piece! It was expensive back then, but it was worth it back then. Ah… good times…”
Imuteb focuses his attention away from the wizard. As Klardini rambles away, the door to the stuff-smithy opens up. In steps a feylike fellow with armor, Varian Bloomstrike.
Varian is checking on a ring he dropped off several days ago—but as of now, Imuteb looks to be fighting off sleep from a jabbering elf who looks old enough to still be using 1st edition D&D rules.
Imuteb shakes his head and shouts, “All right all right! Orders are finished!” He grumbly goes to Klardini and hands him a ring, then hands an arcane focus over to Varian.
Klardini notices he’s holding a ring... did the orders get mixed up? “That’s a fine ring there, but hold on!” he shuffles over to Varian. “Hold on I’m coming! Oh boy! Let me stretch a little bit!”
“Yep yep, just a couple more—uh huh,” Varian says, watching the little old man shuffle over to him. Varian doesn’t take one step closer to the elder elf.
“I think you got my stuff!” Klardini says. “He handed you my pendant!”
“And he handed you my ring.”
“This is your ring! What a beautiful ring! Where did you get it?”
“I got it from my sister.”
“Oh, what’s her name?”
Varian pauses. “Oh that’s the hardest part about coming up with a character… um… her name is Elyria!”
“Hrm… I might have known an Elyria back in the day. Is she named after the Semnu Elyria from seven hundred years ago—I think they call it the Brick Docks now. Is that where your family is from?”
“Almost certainly not,” Varian interjects. “We’re from the Feywild, originally.”
“I’ve been there before—I’ve collected a lot of spells from there. Speaking of which… do you have any scrolls on you?” Klardini says.
“Let me check my pockets… no, unfortunately not. I do have this!” Varian reaches into his pockets and hands Klardini a little flower.
Klardini looks at it. “What is it?”
“It’s a flower!”
“Oh yes—let me get my glasses out.” Klardini says. “I believe in your culture they do this as a sign of friendship—is that correct? Yes, of course that’s correct…” Klardini eats the flower.
Varian is perfectly unphased by this.
Imuteb comes back in. “Sorry about that, I was feeling very lethargic—to make up for it, how about this free coupon to the Sorcerous Maiden tavern. It’s on me.”
The dwarven stuff-smith then offers the elf and the fairy-man each a coupon for one free meal at the Sorcerous Maiden—a worthy substitute for his mistake with the orders. Stuff gets mixed up a lot at the stuff-smith's smithery. There's just too much stuff!
“Thank you sir! Just like your father with good business skills!” Klardini says.
“It looks like if we want to beat the crowd, we need to get there fast, old man,” Varian says.
Varian scoops up Klardini and heads out with him.
Meanwhile, at the Sorcerous Maiden tavern, our two bands of adventurers convene with their free coupons. The Great Klardini and Varian see Uther, who is walking with an eight-foot-tall character wearing a large ceremonial robe, a top hat, and has a green face. A peculiar creature…
“Halt, steed! I think we’ve arrived!” Klardini shouts, and is promptly dumped to the ground by Varian.
The Sorcerous Maiden is a grand eatery, decorated with stone gargoyles on the front and glass windows. It has a crisp aroma of spiced vegetables and roasting beef wafting from inside, and faint notes of music echo from within.
“I swear I’ll never get used to this modern music!” Klardini says, then notices the dwarf and goblin stacked on top of each other... their disguise seems to fool him. “That’s a big fellow right there, isn’t he?”
At the front of the tavern is a large half-orc checking cover charge. Uther, Mox, and Afik approach.
“See we have these two coupons and there are two of us!” Uther points to himself and his two comrades stacked upon each other.. “So we’re gonna use these.”
“Us too!” Varian shouts, holding out the coupons from the stuff-smith.
The half-orc checks Varian’s and Klardini’s coupons. “Sir, you and your grandfather can go inside.”
“Do you have senior citizens’ coupons as well?” Klardini asks. “For the future!”
The bouncer stares at Klardini then just gives him his coupon back.
“Thank you!” Klardini says.
The bouncer eyeballs the two small humanoids stacked on top of each other. He perceives them as being a little… funny looking. “Well sir, what big… legs you have!” The half-orc points at the rather stumpy bottom of the two humanoids in their clerical robes.
Mox rolls a 20 for Deception, but Afik rolls poorly—so the top half of the disguise goes well, but the bottom half looks rather suspicious… Mox interjects before the half-orc can prod any further, “Thank you! I never skip leg day!”
The half-orc smiles. “And leg day is the most important day! You may step inside!”
“You have fine legs yourself!” Mox says, stepping inside with his "legs."
“I’d have nice legs too if I worked out…” Uther grumbles, having chosen Strength as his dumpstat.
As everyone steps inside, they realize they’ve arrived at the Sorcerous Maiden on a very important day—Elder’s Day!
Happy Elder’s Day! Where every seat is handicap seating! All the food is unsalted and easy to eat! There is even a contest called “Who is the Oldest Person?” going on.
“It’s my lucky day, fellas!” Klardini cheers!
The elder elf shuffles over to enter the contest for Elder’s Day. He notices that there are two thrones on either side of the eatery—one throne is empty, and the other one has an old man sitting in it. He’s decked out with jewelry and wrinkles. The man’s name is Fernet. He's one of the eldest people in all of Semnu!
... but not the eldest!
Fernet locks his old eyes with Klardini.
Surrounding Fernet are a few tavern patrons, all eyeing the incoming party. Mox knows Fernet as a fence for his stolen goods—all old people become criminals one day eventually! Statistics show that the longer you go without dying, the greater the chance you have of committing a crime! Mox hopes his disguise works well enough to conceal his identity. No use mixing business with… pleasure? Is this fun? Is Mox having fun?
As Klardini shuffles past Mox and Afik, he pokes the duo in the “stomach,” which is actually Afik’s nose, and the two almost topple over. As they do so, Klardini gets a good look at Mox’s face.
“I’m sorry about that—bony fingers..." Afik Bonefinger shudders at the almost sound of his name. "You know… hey, are you the father of that Poop Child who is going around?” Klardini says to him.
“Apparently sir I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mox responds. “And I would father no such thing!”
“Well if you ask me,” Klardini says, shuffling closer. “I think it was pretty hilarious!”
Klardini then plops down into the empty throne. As he does so, the lights in the tavern dim down. Stepping from the kitchen is a tall dwarf with willowy hair and brown eyes—he dons a dragonscale cloak, and following behind him is a red fox with arcane markings etched into its fur. Real anime shit.
The dwarf raises his hands, and his voice booms, “I am Kher, the proprietor of the Sorcerous Maiden! Welcome to Elder’s Day, where we gather the most ancient of those in the town and offer this wonderful ceremony of food and vivacious celebration! Great Klardini,” he shouts, looking at Klardini and the “three” comrades around him: Varian, Uther, and Mox/Afik. “You have gathered your three?”
“I have!” Klardini says, not knowing what is going on, which is how he spends most of his days.
Kher turns to Fernet. “Fernet, you have gathered your three as well?”
Fernet nods.
Kher then waves his hand and casts a spell, his fox familiar glowing with energy as it fills the room with a mystic enchantment—everyone feels a little more docile, as through their weapons and fists don’t have nearly as much punch anymore. All of their weapons and attacks now deal non-lethal damage!
“… Are we about to fight!?” Klardini shouts.
“It’s time to begin the Defense of the Ancients!” Kher shouts.
Three other patrons within the tavern flock around Fernet, each one grabbing martial weapons like bows, clubs, and the like. Fernet leers at the adventurers from his throne, but he does not move.
“And remember,” Kher says. “Ancients, You cannot leave your thrones! The first ancient to leave his Throne loses the Defense of the Ancients! Everyone get within range of your ancient!”
“Come now!” Klardini motions everyone towards him. “They call me the Great Klardini for a reason!” Klardini then realizes that one of his compatriots is actually a goblin stacked on top of a dwarf. “… And for my next trick!”
Mox and Afik split from one another—shocking the opponents. Can they do that? Can they split one person into two?
Kher speaks nothing from his vantage point—the maneuver stands!
Everyone charges forth into open combat. Arrows whiz from Fernet’s side of the bar as an archer feathers the air with shots, but Uther charges forth, lighting blazing in his eyes, hands outstretched as he aims an eldritch blast of pure lightning energy from his electron energy device towards one of the up front thugs, blasting him!
“Ow that stings!” the man shouts.
Varian Bloomstrike shouts, “What is happening? Nice to meet you all!” he says, charging forth and grabbing a drink from the bar, ending his turn.
“My old person is better than your old person!” One of Fernet’s thugs lumbers up, swinging a scimitar. He clobbers Varian with the weapon, dealing 8 nonlethal damage, and smashing the glass in his hand.
Another arrow whiffs through the air at Uther, who ducks under the attack, then Mox stands proudly atop his dwarf companion and shouts, “From the top of this dwarf’s soldiers, I can see to the ends of the world, and from this vantage point, I declare with utmost certainty, that this one is in the bag!”
Mox then fires back, aiming at the thug who swatted at Varian, plugging the villain in the chest. He then hops off of Afik’s shoulders.
“It is the Poop Child!” Klardini shouts, then he casts armor of the Great Klardini as his armor class boosts up, protecting him from dangers as well as poop from goblins and others. But not his own poop.
It's an old people joke! This season's gonna be full of 'em!
Afik Bonefinger closes the gap between himself and other brigands, protecting his ancient from any potential pushes as another of Fernet’s goons meets him halfway.
“No matter how tall you are, you’re still a little punk!” the goon shouts, and claps Afik with his club.
Fernet joins the fight from his seat, cackling like mad. He casts sacred flame at Varian, and the Feywild native dodges away from the radiant blast. Uther fires an eldritch blast at Fernet’s archer and misses, but Varian steps up and swats his sword at the foe next to him, engaging in a bitter duel with the foe. The archer fires at Mox, striking the goblin and nearly dropping him.
“Ow that hurt!” Mox shouts and fires back, striking his attacker and then crawling away.
The Great Klardini summons his limited knowledge and casts Klardini’s chilly touch, where a spectral ghost hand that looks more alive than his real hand clutches one of the brawlers.
Afik climbs atop a barstool and meets one of the foes face-to-face, then smashes him with his battle axe and sends him unconscious down into the counter.
“Don’t talk down to me, boy!” Afik says.
Fernet points a regular finger at Afik Bonefinger and casts sacred flame, igniting him with radiant, holy energy—but then a lightning whip lasso’s around Fernet’s wrist as Uther slips around the side and hits him with lightning lure, then drags him off the throne with a tug of the whip. Fernet tumbles to the ground—the battle is over!
The Defense of the Ancients is over! Confetti falls down from the ceiling as Klardini wins as the Ancient supreme.
“Dire victory!” Kher shouts. “Who do I have the honor of bestowing Ancient of the Year to?”
“I am the Great Klardini, and this is my band of misfits—and the Poop Child. Where did he go? Where am I?” he says. “What did I win?”
“Great Klardini, you win a years supply of free coupons to my establishment!” Kher then bestows around Klardini’s neck a bronze amulet that says The Ancient One, which is full of terms and conditions to prevent him from taking advantage of the yearly free food. “That’s quite a bit of fighting prowess that you gave! I’ll be sure that people are aware of such heroics!”
“YAAAP!” Kher's fox familiar shouts and damn near scares the ripshit hell out of everyone.
Kher then disappears with a flourish, and the tavern lights return to normal. Anyone who was hurt during the exchange is now restored to normal. The unconscious thug who was knocked out by Afik steps up to him.
“Can I get you a drink?” he says, rubbing his head.
“I’ll have a Big Ale—as tall as they come!” Afik says.
The bartender then puts a yard-and-a-half glass taller tan Afik in front of him. It’s brimming with tallness and booze.
Afik stares at the terrifying tall beverage. “I hate this drink!” he says, then chugs it. “Gulp, gulp, gulp!”
“Yeah, this is great!” Varian says. “I’m really drunk—you’re a great old ancient, man!” he pokes Klardini.
“Thank you, steed!” Klardini says. “Carry me this way so I may talk to this old geezer up ahead.”
Klardini is carried up to Fernet. Fernet eyes him with austere admiration. “Klardini! You are a much older person than me—I give you my commendations!”
“Why thank you. How is your grandpappy doing?”
“He’s dead!”
You know what never gets old? Old people jokes! Old people do, however...
“Ah, we lost another one I see… Tell me, where did you learn this… what did you call it? Sacred flame?”
“I learned the sacred flame by relentlessly practicing at that—what was that long forgotten deity? That shrine? Kusha! Yes, she is almost forgotten, but not by you and me! Heh heh heh!”
“She could at least have told you the right name!” Klardini shuffles away begrudgingly, knowing that he probably originated the sacred flame spell but called it something different.
Everyone drinks and eats heavily, making full use of their coupons by devouring a lot of unsalted, easy-to-chew food for Elder’s Day. Tales get told and ales get sold and everyone gets old—by one whole day!
The next morning, everyone wakes up horribly hungover in the same bedroom of the Sorcerous Maiden—for some reason. Their mind is a foggy memory of hearing stories about Archdukes of Avernus and heroic deeds of the Poop Child. Also, there’s a tree standing at the window.
And this tree talks!
Varian stands near the window and feels a touch of the Feywild, probably because of the talking tree outside.
“I heard about your skills in the fight with the Ancients,” the tree states.
Varian hungoverly remembers Kher mentioning a thing about letting people know about their deeds and such.
“How much did I drink last night?” Varian says. “I think I was a horse?”
The tree pushes its face through the window, breaking it as it fills the room with his bristling branches.
“Are you from the Feywild?” the tree says. “I was once a mortal like you! I was a human though—not a lot of humans in this room. I was a spirit seer in service of the Emerald Enclave!”
“And when was this exactly?” Varian says.
“Oh… before you were born… but not before he was born.” The tree gestures towards Klardini. “Upon my passage into the afterlife, as a member of the Emerald Enclave, I am allowed to come back and speak through the trees. Trees are not so good with motion you know!”
“Well, I’ve sworn an oath to listen to trees… among other things…” Varian says.
“I don’t like this tree,” Afik says.
The tree speaks again, “I come with a request of such strong adventurers who are one with the trees… you will have to sail from this land!”
“Ah dammit!” Afik says.
“The short hairy one seems perturbed by this,” the tree says.
“It’s a long story, man!” Afik says.
“Not as long as the one I’m about to tell!” the tree begins. “So… my great-great granddaughter, Cera, carries on my work for me with the Emerald Enclave long after my passing. She communed with me months ago and went to investigate, oh, what did she call it? A ‘strange wrinkle in the natural order.’ Which also describes that elf friend of yours over there! She went to a small coastal town called Bellview. She has not returned, nor reported her findings—and I fear the worst. I wish for someone to go and discover her fate and possibly whatever this ‘strange wrinkle’ as she called it, happens to be. If possible, even save her…”
Varian stands before the tree, his head held high. “Well, I’m about saving ladies and fixing natural order problems. I’m all about this shit! Point me in the right direction—tell me more.”
The tree’s eyes light up slowly. “Well Bellview is a village along the southern shore of the Jade Sea—I know that they export typical seaside harvest: beef, pork—sugar is their chief export, so if you wish to find it cheaply, buy it while you’re there.”
Varian’s eye slight up. “Sugar?”
“Yes—as used with rum…” the tree clarifies. “You seem to enjoy such things… except for this morning. I can give you these to assist you on your journey. This was Cera’s—it washed upon the shores.”
The tree reaches a gnarled hand through the window and places two potions of healing on the nearby counter, as well as a pretty, velvet bag.
“What’s your last name?” Varian says.
“Domri,” Domri says—finally he says his name so I can quit referring to him as the tree.
“Spell that!” Varian says.
“D-O-M-R-I,” Domri says.
“And Cera is the usual spelling?”
“Yes. C-E-R-A,” Domri says.
“Of course,” Varian says. “Cera Domri… And we have two potions and a bag?”
“Yes… it’s a deep bag.”
Varian gets excited. “How deep?” Varian puts one of the potions into the bag, and he can’t feel the bottom of the bag. “Oh, I like this bag!” Varian realizes that he’s holding a bag of holding. He puts both potions into the bag of holding. “This is a wonderful gift! Thank you! I will strive to find your great-great granddaughter!”
Every single damn time after this exact moment, the whole adventuring group forgets that Domri is Cera's great-great grandfather and just thinks that he's her dad. They also forget that Domri was once a mortal, died, and can now commune with the Material Plane by possessing a tree since he was a druid. He did not give birth to a human while a tree. He was a human, had a human child, then later died.
But everyone's hungover so they're probably mishearing a lot.
“Thank you kindly, friend of the Feywild!" Domri says with a smile. "Nature itself is not always so kind, so make sure that when you venture forth, you are properly prepared. I may be able to assist you a bit, and HRUUURNGH!”
Domri shakes his head with enough force to nearly lift the roof off the tavern, and acorns fly from his bushy, leaf-like hair. Bits of branches and leaves scatter around, but within seconds, the whole room is filled with acorns!
“This guy’s a little nutty!” Klardini says.
“That was acorny joke,” Uther says.
Domri chuckles loudly, and Varian fills the entire bag of holding with acorns so that nothing else can fit into it except for what’s already inside. His nut sack is full.
“What can we use acorns for?” Varian says.
“Eating,” Domri suggests.
“We can make more trees with them!” Uther says.
“Donate them to Peanut the Squirrel’s family!” Afik says.
“We could buy a slingshot,” Mox suggests. “That’s a lot of ammo!”
Everyone agrees with Mox. He grins with delight—maybe throwing acorns will get people to call him the Acorn Kid instead of the Poop Child.
Everyone turns to the window and sees that Domri is now a regular tree—also there’s broken glass and twigs and leaves and collateral damage all over the room from where the tree shoved its massive-ass head into the room and broke a lot of shit.
Varian reaches into the bag and realizes he can’t find the potions of healing unless he dumps out all the acorns in the bag of holding.
“Hey I got a quest!” Varian tells everyone in the room. “We gotta go save this tree’s daughter, apparently!”
See, he already forgot about the family tree... holy shit I just realized that's also a joke—
“Did you say ‘save a tree’s daughter?’” Klardini says.
“Let us find this saproling!” Afik says, hoping that tree’s daughters are shorter than trees.
“Yeah, he prepaid,” Varian says and dumps a bunch of acorns out.
“Perhaps we could make use of the acorns,” Afik ponders.
“It seems like you’ve got bag-squirrels,” Uther says.
The group gets together and discusses that they’re going to need to secure passage by boat as well as stock up on supplies for an ocean-bound journey to the shores of the Jade Sea. Since they happen to be on an island, finding a boat should be easy... just pick a direction and start walking, and when you start swimming, you know you've gone too far!
Afik panics a bit. “Mox, I’m gonna need your help with this one! I don’t do good with water!”
“Oh…” Mox says.
“You’re gonna have to deliver me!” Afik says, chest heaving. “Put me in a crate!”
Everyone gasps.
“I’m your guy!” Mox says.
“Wake me when you get there!” Afik says, as he goes down and gathers tons and tons of booze to get shit-ass drunk for this journey across the most feared thing—more feared than tall people and tall things: deep things! And the ocean is the deepest thing of all! Deep things are just tall things but upside-down-kind-of-tall!
The group seeks out to secure passage on a ship so that they can reach Bellview and get some experience points. As they saunter down to the docks with Afik boxed up to be loaded, they prepare for the weeklong journey on one of the local ships.
Mox immediately buys a slingshot for all the acorns. He’s also quick to leave town as he is wanted for being the “Poop Child.” Klardini uses his newly acquired senior discount to grab several to-go plates from the Sorcerous Maiden—packing them with mashed potatoes, unsalted Salisbury steak, and overly steamed vegetables into the packing crate with Afik.
They yell at people on the ports long enough until a sailing vessel, the Li’l Toot, comes into view at the port. They speak with one of the Li’l Toot’s shipmates, and after letting the Great Klardini jabber at him long enough, they hear a sales pitch about tapestries from the Thousand Thousand Islands, but they are too poor to buy such luxurious things at 150 gold pieces each.
“I will not pay more than two copper pieces for a tapestry!” Klardini rants. “Times have changed, I understand! Three copper pieces, maybe!
“But these are hand-woven!” the deckhand says.
“How else do you make a tapestry!?” Klardini rages.
“With a loom!”
“… What is a loom!?”
“It is a device that makes tapestries.”
Klardini is mad that this man is correct.
“What is the world coming to!” Klardini says, grumbling away.
Eventually they settle on booking passage instead, as intended initially, instead of bartering and raging at the cost of tapestries, as initially not intended. Two gold pieces each for passage to Bellview, with four gold pieces to have their cargo shipped. Klardini whines about a senior’s discount. To further discuss the deal, the ship’s captain emerges.
The captain has a peg leg, a peg hand, and a peg eyeball. “The name’s Peggy,” he says. “What’s this I hear ‘bout a senior discount?”
“I was wondering if you offered a senior discount since I don’t take up much room, and I don’t eat much food, and I’ve been here a while,” Klardini says.
“It’s bad luck to have a crewmate die at sea!” Captain Peggy snarls. “And you look like death could take you at any moment!”
“He won the Defense of the Ancients!” Varian interjects.
“Sir, it is bad luck to turn away your elder,” Klardini says.
Captain Peggy cackles. “What know ye o’ the luck o’ the sea? I bet neither one o’ ya have felt the tempest squalls waft in from the… the... places where hurricanes are from! And deck your ship day after day and send it swallowed down to the depths of the great abyss below—and here ye come askin’ for a discount fer not bein’ dead yet?”
Afik shivers in his crate at Captain Peggy’s regaling tale of the terrible sea.
“And ye be bringin’ on unchecked cargo—what’s in this box?” Peggy says, approaching the crate.
“That’s our dwarf friend,” Klardini says.
“… What?” Peggy says.
“And since you know it’s a person, we will book his passage for the two gold instead of the four,” Klardini says.
“Ye be a criminal then? Tryin' to smuggle someone across the waters on me ship?” Captain Peggy grumbles.
“No I just told you it was a person! I’m not trying to smuggle anything,” Klardini explains. “He’s just scared of the water.”
Captain Peggy peers down at Afik, who cowers in his crate. “Tell me, wee dwarf. What know ye o’ the Neptunian strike of Umberlee’s waves of madness as they strike forth from the squalls above?”
Afik shivers. “I… I know I lost me sea legs,” he says.
The captain waves his peg leg in the air. “I lost me sea legs too! Though it seems ye haven’t lost them completely!”
“Oh just let me hide in my box!” Afik shouts and pulls the lid back over himself.
The captain eyes everyone, peggishly. “I seen this before! Ocean madness! Ye must never let him leave this box while he is on me ship! No matter what ails come aboard, he must never leave the crate—ocean madness must not escape! Fer ye know we be sailing close to Umberlee’s influence, ye see? The great Sea Bitch herself!” he cackles. “Be careful when ye get near the Sea Bitch’s domain, fer she does not forgive!”
“Yeah now show me where I’ll be sleeping,” Klardini says, shuffling onto the boat.
Captain Peggy begins assigning sleeping arrangements to everyone, starting with Klardini. “Ye will sleep at the head! The dwarf will stay in the cargo deck!” He then points to Varian. “Ye shall stay in the crow’s nest!” He points to Uther. “Ye shall sleep at the wheel.” Finally, he goes up to Mox. “Ye shall stay on the poop deck.”
“I’m touching the wheel,” Uther whispers.
Captain Peggy goes up to Uther and slaps him with a peg hand and five peg fingers. “Do not touch the wheel! Ye be a…” he sees that Uther is decked out in lightning magic regalia. “Fer ye be the tempest itself, bringing Umberlee’s wrath! Ye shall not bring her closer to me ship by touchin' me wheel, else she brings us down to the watery grave fer eternity!”
“Okay, I’m not gonna touch the wheel,” Uther says. “But I need to hold something wheel-shaped.
Captain Peggy hands him a tambourine. “Ye shall keep us entertained!”
Uther does that.
“We shall leave at noon!” Captain Peggy shouts, then boards the ship.
“Oh shit that’s like in ten minutes!” Varian says, and everyone else dashes onto the ship.
Everyone sets sail out into the ocean, as most sailing ships do, leaving Semnu behind on the horizon. The whole time, Captain Peggy rambles and raves about Umberlees and tempests and terrors. After several days of travel, Bellview itself looms in the distance.
Jutting from the beach and into the sky is a large rock, like pride rock from that Lion King movie, but this one is on the beach. Surrounding the rock are port buildings and regular buildings, port ships and regular ships, pormanteaus and regular manteaus. Fields of sugarcane deck the nearby marshes, and people toil toilishly under the muggy overcast weather. The sun itself seems to hide its face from this squalid, humid, desolate town.
What has Cera gotten herself into?
What have the adventurers gotten themselves into?
Well, one got himself into a crate…
The Li’l Toot pulls into harbor, and the captain leans in towards the adventurers. “Be careful—Umberlee’s influence is strong here!”
The adventurers stand on the docks and observe—clearly the giant rock outcropping would be a great vantage point, but—is that a shark!?
Behind them, dipping into the water near the ship, is a massive shark—25 or 30 feet long, just chilling.
“There’s a big shark in the water!” Varian says.
“We better steer clear of it!” Uther says.
Everyone is standing on dry land.
Klardini immediately wanders out into the crowd, staring at random things and people. He stands out, as old as he is and as elfish as he is. People give him wary looks, but Klardini senses a gloomy atmosphere—several people are scratching at their faces and coughing.
“Oh, better watch that cough mister! Sounds pretty bad!” Klardini says to a stranger as he passes him.
The person turns to him, pulls a little zit out of his own cheek, then keeps walking. This town is gross.
Oh yeah, and nobody went with Klardini. They're all still at the port.
“Weren’t we here to find some tree or something?” Afik says.
“Have you seen any talking trees?” Mox asks a stranger.
“We should go to the arborist!” Uther says.
They have a feeling there is no arborist nearby. They also realize that Afik is still in his crate. Mox hauls him out, and the whole crate stinks. Everyone gets mad at Afik for pooping in the crate with all their food.
“Every box has a poop corner!” Afik says, explaining that the food isn’t contaminated. “Where’s the arborist?”
Oh yeah, there isn’t one. As the adventurers peruse the town, several people give them a wide berth—not simply because Afik has been pooping all the time in a semi-airtight crate for a week. At this point they realize that they stand out a little bit—which makes sense: they’re not farmers.
The tall angelic aasimar with the lightning bolt designs on his fancy robes says, “These people have fleas?”
The populace keeps scratching at scabs on their skin.
“I am really good at finding my way around,” Mox says, preparing to explore the goblin way.
“Yeah, follow the goblin,” Uther says.
“Yeah, get him!” Afik shouts.
Mox runs up to the top of the giant rock outcropping—providing him a large view of the whole area. He can see the docks, the townhouse, a bazaar, a stone chapel, an inn called the “Halfsail’s House,” a prefect’s house, and acres upon acres of sugarcane fields. The cool salty air bristles his pointed nose, and as he peers off the edge of the rock and into the craggy water a hundred feet below, he sees that the top of the rock is stained with dried blood.
“Oh… there’s killing up here,” Mox says.
“If they’re killing, then we should go!” Uther says. “But you guys should go first! Here, I’ll light the way!” He casts light. “… I have darkvision, this is just for fun. It comes with my race. We can cast light… not that we need to.”
It’s daytime.
Mox walks up to a lady and begins his sleuthing. “Hey what’s with all that blood over there?” He points back to the rock.
The lady stares at him, her face pockmarked with scabs. “It—”
“What’s wrong with your face?” Mox says.
She leaves.
“You should have cast friends on her first,” Uther says.
“You should cast friends on her,” Mox says.
“I don’t have friends,” Uther says. “I’m a nerd.”
“Can someone tells us who is in charge!?” Afik shouts.
“Deacon Walter Graham,” one of the townsfolk shouts.
A deacon? So he’s at the church! Probably.
“Let’s go check his deacon lair,” Afik says, and they all head for the church.
Meanwhile, Klardini is also wandering around trying to figure out what’s going on—which isn’t usual for his daily routine back on Semnu Island.
“Who’s in charge around these parts? It’s been ages since I’ve last been here—last time I was here, that rock was a lot taller!” he rambles.
“It’s Deacon Walter—if you want to find someone in charge, it’s him,” a passerby says, hoping he’ll go away.
“Walter… Walter… Doesn’t sound familiar. Where is he at?” Klardini says.
The citizen points the direction to Deacon Walter’s house, as well as to the Prefect’s House. Klardini deduces that since it’s daytime, the deacon is at work, so Klardini saunters over to the Prefect’s House.
Meanwhile, at the church that Deacon Walter is not at, the other adventurers arrive looking for Deacon Walter. The church itself is a stone chapel, all spooky-looking and cultlike. The church to Umberlee is engraved with symbols of tempests, tsumanis, sharks, and other ocean-terror nonsense that sailors don’t like to see. The studded wooden doors are chained shut. Atop the church, a black raven eyes them curiously.
The adventurers debate on what to do next.
“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Afik says.
“So that means we can go inside without anyone being mad at us!” Uther declares.
The raven flies down, circles the adventurers, and it lands on Varian’s shoulder. It lets out a loud “CAW!”
“Don’t move. There’s a bird on you,” Afik says.
The raven lets out another ominous “CAW!” except it sounds like “Dagon!” this time.
“Keep the bird. He’s cool,” Uther says. “Bird, do you know where to find the Deacon or the sapling tree, Cera?”
The raven stares directly at Uther when he says the word “Cera.”
“Do you know Cera?” Uther says.
The raven nuzzles itself under Varian’s chin.
“That’s not Cera,” Uther says.
Varian sniffs the bird. The raven then flutters down and lands on the bag of holding with the acorns in it. Varian lets the raven eat some of the acorns in the bag, but the bird seems more interested in the bag itself than the acorns inside it. The bird then hops onto his shoulder and sits there.
“This is great,” Varian says. “Do you have a name bird? Do you speak?”
“Dagon!” the bird chirps.
“Deacon!?” Varian says. “Aren’t we looking for a Deacon?”
“Hey Deacon,” Uriel says, looking at the bird. “We’re looking for Cera, a saproling. Do you know where she is?”
The adventurers are lost.
The raven begins pecking at the lock on the doors, and as the adventurers watch the bird, they notice that close to twenty citizens of Bellview have gathered around to stare at them.
“Well, are you guys going to help us or not?” Uther says to the crowd.
“What happened to your faces?” Mox says.
One of the civilians steps forth. “That is a sacred site. You should not be poking your nose around it.”
“Okay, do you know where we should be poking our noses to find Cera, the daughter of a tree?” Uther says.
“A talking tree!” Afik clarifies.
“Sounds like nonsense,” the man says. “But the Deacon is over at his house or the Prefect’s House. He keeps to himself most of these days, especially since the Prefect stopped talking altogether.”
Uther notices that someone from the crowd grumbled a comment using the Abyssal language. Uther doesn’t speak the language directly, but as a Celestial native speaker, he knows what dirty nonsense demon-talk sounds like.
“Guys I think there is a demon or a devil around here. Does anyone have, like, sense dark magic or whatever?” Uther says.
Varian uses his divine sense, because that’s what paladins do! He sees that Uther is glowing with angelic energy, and all of the townsfolk are giving off a faint, faint tinge of fiendish energy. The raven on his shoulder is glowing as well with celestial energy. Varian gives the raven some extra acorns.
“You didn’t give me extra acorns just for being celestial!” Uther complains.
Varian gives him some extra acorns, and Uther casts light on each of them before eating them. Varian then divulges his information to the rest of the party.
“I think we’re gonna have to threaten these people if they’re evil and not listening to us,” Uther whispers. “We need to find the person with the smallest child, then steal the smallest child and force information out of it.”
“That might be going a little too far,” Afik says.
“Well we can go to the Prefect’s House, and on the way, we can pick up a small child,” Uther says.
“Only if we can fit the child in the bag!” Afik says.
Varian looks into the bag of holding—there is not enough remaining space for a child, even a Poop Child.
While that’s happening, the Great Klardini arrives at the Prefect’s House. Slowly. He approaches the small cottage, opens the door, and he sees a man sitting behind a desk—he’s scribbling away, then gives a half-hearted “yes, what is it?” before looking up and realizing Klardini is someone new.
“Oh, who do I have the pleasure of seeing today?” the man says.
Klardini almost faints once he sees the man’s face—a scabby, pockmarked spatter of sores covers the balding man’s head and cheeks. His clerical vestments are flaked with reddish brown smears, as though the man was hovering between a living and undead state. His swollen hands clutch a pen.
“What’s with your face!?” Mox shouts from several hundred feet away, somehow aware of how terrifying Deacon Walter Graham looks without having seen him yet.
“My goodness! Are you all right?” Klardini says, transfixed by the man’s degenerative state.
Deacon Walter grumbles, “Do not worry about me. There is a massive infestation of tryporhana hydra that has gotten into the sugarcane fields,” he clarifies. “They’re parasites that normally are no more hostile than regular plankton, but over the past few months, these new parasites have emerged. They’re infectious… they lay eggs in your skin… and they hatch out.”
The Great Klardini holds back vomit. “Oh my… goodness gracious! Um… I forgot everything that I came here to talk to you about!”
“Be not worried about my health,” Deacon Walter says. “It is voluntary, for I am going through penance.”
“What did you do?” Klardini says.
Deacon Walter shifts in his seat. “I made a terrible mistake, so I am paying for my deeds. Now what did you come to see me for, stranger?”
“Um, I was curious… I’m looking for some scrolls or some of my old pages from my old spellbook. Do you happen to have any?”
Deacon Walter says, “If you’re looking to understand other languages, I could sell you one of these.” He then reaches into his drawer and pulls out two magic scrolls containing the spell, comprehend languages. “I use them mostly for work, about once a month. But I’d be willing to bargain to let one go.”
Klardini examines the scrolls. “That looks like one of the spells copied from my book. I believe it was called, ‘Klardini’s tongue twister.’ How much are you willing to part with this scroll for?
“Fifty gold pieces,” he says.
“Fifty gold pieces is criminal!”
Deacon Walter narrows his eyes on Klardini. “What’s that around your neck?”
“That’s my award!”
“What did you win, old man?”
“I won a year’s worth of food for being the best ancient!” Klardini beams.
Deacon Walter stares at Klardini as though nothing he just said made any sort of damn sense whatsoever, and before he can press the issue further, the rest of the adventurers barge in through the front door of his office. Deacon Walter sees the raven sitting on Varian’s shoulder and sneers at it.
“Get that damned thing out of my office!” he says, pointing at the bird.
“That’s my steed!” Klardini says, looking at Varian. “Now anyway, back to this scroll—you said five gold pieces is what you said?
“That’s not what I said… are they with you?”
“Yes, they’re with me,” Klardini says.
Deacon Walter looks Varian up and down before speaking again. “Why is that bird clinging to you? Are you one of hers? One of Cera’s? One of her people?” He takes special note of Varian’s Feywild, nature-like attributes.
“We’re actually trying to find Cera,” Mox clarifies. “Do you know her?”
“Yes. I do. Close the door,” Deacon Walter says. He sits behind his desk again, scratches at his head, and what appears to be a tiny little grub falls from the scab and onto his desktop. He mashes it with a finger. “We like to keep to ourselves in Bellview—we are very dedicated to what we hold dear. Our offerings… our ‘subdual,’ has kept us safe. Umberlee’s sacrifices have protected us for decades and decades and decades due to our selfless devotion—until she came along, this Cera of yours.”
“She’s not our Cera. We’re just trying to find her,” Klardini says.
Deacon Walter nods. “There is something within her—something that—"
“She’s pregnant!?” Klardini says.
“In a way… maybe?” Deacon Walter says. “From my brief conversation with her, she… thinks that this world could be ‘cleansed for the good of nature itself,’ and she has started to make pacts with those who could wreak plenty of havoc. Are you familiar with Dagon?”
“Is that the bird?” Mox says.
“No, that is Ollie. He's Cera's familiar, and I hate him,” Deacon Walter says. “When Cera came into this area, she came in with a mission. And with that bird. If Ollie's still here, then that means Cera’s still alive. Dagon is a demon lord from the 89th plane of the Abyss. He is venerated by many foul creatures, and I believe Cera plans to let one of his unearthly creatures be born into this world through herself!”
“I told you she was pregnant!” Klardini says.
“Aw, the tree is gonna be a granddaddy!” Uther says, referring to Cera’s great-great grandfather.
I told you they didn't remember shit.
“She’s made some deal with Dagon,” Deacon Walter says. “And his influence has started to seep into my people. You may have noticed that they are standoffish. They’ll shout out unholy scripture. I know that Umberlee, our patron deity, is not accepted by the masses in the world at large—but Dagon is much more destructive. I tried to stop Cera from going down into the chapel, but she did not come alone. Are you familiar with the sahuagin?”
Klardini looks confused.
“… Anybody else?” Deacon Walter says.
Uther has heard of them. He explains that they are fish-like humanoids who prey along the coasts.
Deacon Walter continues, “She and these abyssal, ocean-dwelling monstrosities took control of the chapel itself. There’s a cistern below and a series of tunnels where we worship. Fortunately, they have been keeping to the tunnels beneath. There is an exit underneath Shark’s Horn.” He then points out his window towards the large rock jutting from the beach—where Mox climbed and surveyed the area. “And for our benefit, a massive shark has appeared outside Shark’s Horn, and I have seen the dead corpses of the sahuagin obliterated by this shark. Maybe Umberlee has sent us this hero… and maybe she has sent us five more.”
The adventurers count themselves—they are five more!
Deacon Walter stands before them. “My parish has fallen under Dagon’s sway, and Umberlee’s influence is waning. If this town falls fully under Dagon, I will be branded a heretic. If I leave, Umberlee will punish me for my cowardice. So here’s me, the failed deacon in his penance. I can’t reach out to the Zhentarim authorities because they will put us in debt for a century. So… if you want these scrolls, you can have them! As long as you do something about Cera.”
“We’re going to take her back to her dad,” Uther says.
“Good! Get her out of here,” Deacon Walter says.
“Hold on for a second,” Uther interjects. “If putting you guys in debt for a century is on the table, then we at least need to talk decades. Scrolls alone may not cut it—we need some further patronage from you.”
Deacon Walter thinks. “If I can get the sway of my town back under Umberlee’s banner by removing Dagon’s influence, I can grant you safer passage at sea.”
“And statues,” Uther says.
“I will take scrolls over statues,” Klardini says. “There will already be statues of the Great Klardini!”
“Okay, he doesn’t get a statue. He just gets a scroll,” Uther says.
“Then here’s one of them,” Deacon Walter says, passing a scroll of comprehend languages to Klardini. “I will give you gold upon completion, and whatever you can get from Cera and the sahuagin—keep it, for putting your lives in danger. Also, my parish does not know anything about Cera. I had to shut down the chapel to keep them from going in there. I’ve been telling them that Umberlee demands we practice our worship out in the open instead of underground in the cistern just to give them something to believe, but if you can rid the cistern of Cera and the sahuagin, then blessings upon you.”
Deacon Walter Graham then pulls out five badges with Umberlee’s sigil on it—a crashing wave. He gives each of them a badge to wear, which will help them mingle better with the townsfolk as agents of Umberlee. He takes them from the office and down to the church. He produces a key.
“I don’t know how much time you have,” he says. “Whatever it is that they’re ‘brewing’ in there, whatever creature she’s trying to bring forth… could happen at any moment. I wish you the best.
He unlocks the chains to the chapel.
The doors creak open.