Temperance Foundling. A loud half-orc paladin.
Sterrin Blackhand. A human rogue and far traveler.
Valandrien Dezlentyr. A half-elven sorcerer from Waterdeep.
Ilamayil de Pauw. A vain half-elven bard.
Goblins were tickled, slapped, and questioned. They revealed that “Boss Hark” had sent them to raid the town. Said Boss had remained back at the Dripping Caves along with his big guards Thog and Nob. A tricksy goblin named Snigbat guarded the back entrance. Math is hard, but the heroes estimated twenty goblins had remained behind. If the heroes didn’t merely want to kill all the gobbos, they could clear the path to the water.
The Dripping Caves were a mere mile or so north of Nightstone. Skirting around the front entrance, the heroes entered through a natural chimney. Three “wives” attempted to kill the good guys, but failed. A cautious alliance was entered into with Snigbat. If the heroes killed Hark, Snigbat would probably be the new leader of the goblins and would give the adventurers all of Hark’s stuff.
Sterrin quickly snuck in to the next cave room and assassinated Hark with one shot.
Everyone else rushed in to a huge cavern full of tension and the smell of old goulash and foot fungus. The two ogres, Thog and Nob complained that Hark was dead. Temperance failed to intimidate anyone. Ila failed to diplomatize anyone. Valandrien succeeded in awing everyone. Snigbat tried to convince everyone that she was the new leader.
<s>It worked! Everyone went home happy.</s>
The ogres didn’t want to cooperate. They attacked. Valandrien webbed one of them. Temperance charged. Goblins fired arrows at the ogres. Ila’s guided bolts knocked the ogres unconscious.
“All Hail Queen Snigbat!”
The heroes spoke with Queen Snigbat and some of the surviving goblins. They found the captured villagers and freed them. Hark’s gear was taken. The captured goblins were returned. Everyone lived happily ever after.
The next day, back in Nightstone village, the dwarven innkeeper, Morak the Warty offered the Heroes of Nightstone no reward, no free food, no treasure, and no magic lint. Instead, he asked them to do three difficult things:
1. Journey to far off Bryn Shandar, in the wayyyy distant north, to inform Sheriff Markham that his sister Semmele Southwell had died.
2. Go to nearby Goldenfields and deliver Valadrien’s winged cat buddy Rillix to Miros Zelbrin. Oh, and maybe mention that both of his parents were crushed by a rock. Or maybe not. Morak didn’t seem to care.
3. Trek to semi-distant Triboar and sample the smoked quail at the Pleasing Platter. After dinner, tell the head of the Lionshield trading coster, Darthag Ulgar, that his ex-wife Alaestra was killed painfully over two days by cruel goblins.
The group decided to sleep on it and choose which quest to pursue in the morning.
In the morning, a strange sight was seen over Nightstone: a flying tower wearing a huge “wizard’s hat” with moons and stars on its top.
The remaining villagers agreed to send a runner to Waterdeep to contact their dead mayor’s noble family as maybe they owned the village or something and so should send someone to help/rule/loot the town.
The owner of the tower was a wack-job cloud giant named Zephyros. He invited the adventurers to journey with him to the land of gumdrops and suppositories. They accepted and he flew North.
Over three weeks, the tower got several visitors:
1. Vultures with riders who turned out to be nasty air cultists. At the heroes’ suggestion, Zephyros told them to go away. They went away.
2. A silver dragon ferrying ten dwarves. The dwarves announced that they were from Mithral Hall and were going to disable the tower. However, Valandrien showed them the secret handshake/hand signs and persuaded the dwarves that Zephyros was not one of the suddenly-crazy giants who were attacking all over the North. The dwarves got on their dragon taxi and flew away.
Zephyros set the adventurers down a medium-length walk away from Bryn Shander and flew away to compete in the Flying Tower Olympics.
Post Session Session:
Walking toward the quaint village of Bryn Shander in the cold Autumn night, our heroes encountered a line of orcs. But they weren’t ordinary “janitor” orcs! No, they were slavers and they had several halfling slaves. However, they died like janitor orcs.
The halflings, a family led by Ollie Woodhew, were escorted to their nearby farm. Grateful for their rescue, they handed out lime flavored popsicles and a crappy old thing that they had found once at the bottom of a dung chute: the legendary Fochluchan Bandore.
This ancient relic can cast many cool spells once per day, including:
- Protection from Evil, Good, and Herpes
- Faerie Fire
- Summon 1d6-8 Grapes
- Speak with Animals
In addition, any charm spells cast by its wielder save at disadvantage.
The bandore was of course given to the <s>orc</s> bard.