Session 3: Should we stay or should we go?

Ogy was keen to hold onto the amulet, looking forward to selling it for a handsome sum to some dwarf jeweller. It was rather heavy however, and as the scrawny halfling was already overburdened with equipment, it was Lanatil who packed the amulet in his backpack. The group also split the gold the orcs had been carrying, though not without comment from Ogy and Yonnis that the three who had been against the action ought to be thanking them now. Nameless replied, “It was still foolish. You were lucky Lanatil came up with that spell, or things would have gone badly.”

While waiting for their prisoner to regain his senses, the group moved the bodies of the other three orcs away from the trail and hid them in the undergrowth, lest they be easily seen by others sent out to find them. Eventually the captured orc stirred. Yonnis first addressed it in common tongue: “Who are you and where were you going?” The orc gave no response. Yonnis shifted into orc language, posing the same question. No response. Nameless said, “Let me try. I don’t speak orc, but I know something about persuasion.” Nameless tried, using common, to reason with the orc, telling him that cooperation would be in his best interest. The orc still refused to respond. At this point Yonnis levelled his longsword and threatened to sever a limb if the orc failed to answer questions. The orc looked at him balefully and spat in orcish: “Go to hell, elf!” Yonnis carried out his threat. Roaring, the orc repeated its curse, adding that “Bane will do worse to you” before the elf finished him.

It was late afternoon. Elvis said, “We still have a few more hours of daylight. We should put as much distance as we can between ourselves and this place before setting up camp.” They agreed. That night during Nameless’s watch, he noticed Cameron sleeping fitfully and moaning. Then Lanatil suddenly awakened with a loud gasp, shivering in the warm night air. “What is it?” Nameless asked. “We have to get rid of the amulet!” Lanatil was frantically rummaging through his pack.

“Why?”

“I had a dream. It was Bane. He said I had something that belonged to him. He said he was going to send someone to fetch it. And me. He looked at me like I was some sort of insect.”

“How do you know it was Bane?”

“His hand. It was like the one on the amulet. There was green light coming out of it.”

By now the others were awake as well. Lanatil had retrieved the amulet, and said, “I’m going to throw it away.” Elvis tried to stop him. “Wait! If Bane wants it that badly, it must be important. Shouldn’t we try to keep him from getting it?”

“You can mess with Bane if you want to. He’s a god. I don’t want to fight a god.”

Nameless tried to calm the druid. “Bane’s not coming himself. You said yourself he was going to send someone.”

“Yeah, a dragon for all I know.”

Elvis said, “Look, I’ll carry it if you’re afraid to.”

“Not if you’re going to remain sleeping anywhere near me! No, listen, forget it. I’m getting rid of this now.” And with that the druid hurled the amulet into the darkness. Elvis went after it, and after a few minutes of searching in the moonlight he found it among the bushes. The wizard took the amulet and put it in his own pack. By now, attention had shifted to Cameron. The elf was feverish. The arm where the ghoul had bitten him was swollen and suppurated. Yonnis and Lanatil examined him, then looked at each other grimly. “Ghoul fever.”

“Wha..what’s that?,” asked Cameron.

“We need to stay put tomorrow and tend to this,” said Yonnis. With rest and Lanatil’s care, you have a much better chance of fighting off the disease. If you don’t, you will get weaker each day, until you die. And become one of them.”

“Aren’t we close to Anathar’s Dell?,” Elvis asked. “The longer we stay out here trying to nurse him, the more likely we are to suffer further attacks. Won’t he be better off if we get him to a safe place?”

“The Dell is about three days’ journey from here,” Yonnis said. “He might be beyond help by then. We’re not moving. I simply refuse.”

Nameless agreed with Elvis. “I think we need to continue. He won’t necessarily get worse even if we travel. In any case it’s unlikely he’ll die before we get to the Dell. And staying out here leaves us vulnerable.” Cameron agreed, and so the next morning they set out again.

The only danger encountered that day was a dire badger, a 300-pound beast that suddenly stuck its snout up out of a burrow to one side of the trail. It looked at them, snarling. The druid and the ranger each tried his hand at calming the beast down, but it continued to glower. This time it was Elvis who urged attack. “It may be an agent of Bane. We don’t want to leave it behind to report where we’ve been.” The others demurred, noting that a creature capable of creating a burrow five feet in diameter was not something they wished to tangle with unnecessarily. They backed away carefully, and as the creature did not attack, continued on their way.

That night Cameron’s fever continued to worsen, and he grew visibly weaker. But he was far from the end of his strength, and despite Yonnis’s concern said he wished to continue toward the Dell.

Their luck continued to hold the next day, and they were able to make good progress without mishap. Early in the afternoon they crossed Dagger River, causing Yonnis to remark that they should be able to reach Anathar's Dell by the end of the next day. That night the first watch was the Ethrils’. After a short time, Lanatil heard two wolves approaching the camp. Again he tried to use the wild empathy he had struggled to cultivate as part of his druid training. But not only was he unable to calm the wolves, his attempts to communicate backfired and actually provoked them. Snarling, the two beasts launched themselves at Lanatil. One got behind him and sank a vicious bite into the back of the druid’s leg. Drawing his longsword, Yonnis rushed to his brother’s defense just as two more wolves who had circled around the camp emerged from the other side. Soon Yonnis too was flanked, and taking heavy damage. Cameron spoke a few arcane words, and a luminous missile flew from his outstretched fingers into one of the wolves. He then roused the rest of the party. Jumping up, Nameless smote the wolf nearest him with open hand, so powerfully that the wolf fell dead. Ogy threw a dagger at one of the wolves on Lanatil, but—rarely for him—missed wildly. By this time Yonnis was staggered, barely able to keep fighting. Seeing this, Lanatil moved close to him and laid his left hand on his brother’s brow while speaking the words of a healing prayer. Doing so, however, distracted him from the wolf on his flank, who promptly sank its teeth into him again. Lanatil was now obliged to use another less powerful healing spell on himself so as not to lose consciousness. But luckily Nameless had approached, and with another expert blow, felled the wolf still threatening the druid. Only two were left. One had been wounded by several of Cameron’s magic projectiles, as well as a crossbow bolt fired by Elvis. Now it was under attack by Raptor, Lanatil’s hawk, who clawed at its eyes with his talons until the beast fell still. The last wolf was slain by Yonnis, who emerged from his defensive posture to slash it with his longsword.

With the danger over, the group resumed their rest. Cameron’s fever continued to worsen, and he grew steadily weaker. Again Yonnis urged that they stay put for a day to minister to the fading sorceror, but again Cameron elected to keep moving. So the next day they continued walking. Again their luck seemed to hold, and they proceeded unhindered until the sun was low in the sky. Suddenly they became aware of a large tiger-like cat following them attentively from a distance. Yonnis said, “Don’t worry. That is one of the fangs of the Dell. This means we are close to our destination.” And so they were.

Anathar’s Dell is the site of a dwarven mine, above which are a few farms tended by human and half-elf families. There is an inn called Anathar’s Hall, which is known as one of the few safe resting places in the area. As the party entered the Hall, they were greeted by Kharva, a plump dwarf wife with copper-colored hair and a comely copper beard. There were a few tables in the main room, at one of which there sat a redheaded half-elf strumming a lute for the pleasure of a handful of companions. Kharva asked the newcomers to introduce themselves, which they did. Indeed, under her polite questioning some members of the group seemed to open up and volunteer far more information than they had thus far entrusted to their own travelling companions. Lanatil in particular let forth with a torrent of words. At first, Kharva had asked where he was going, and when he named Oakhurst, she had said, “Oh, there’s a terrible plague going on there now. I’d be careful if I were you.” Lanatil looked momentarily peeved, as though he had not wished to broach this subject, but then went on at length, explaining that he was a member of the Quercus circle in Cormanthor, and had been asked by Zinn, the speaker of the circle, to investigate the disease that had taken hold in Oakhurst. Lanatil believed that it might have something to do with the actions of an outcast druid named Belak, who had been expelled from the circle years before. To the extent that the others could follow Lanatil’s excited speech, it appeared that this Belak had been attempting to create animate trees and other abominations, though it was not clear to any of the druid’s listeners what any of this had to do with the plague in Oakhurst. When Lanatil asked whether Kharva had any knowledge of these matters, she said all she knew was that apparently a group of miners from Oakhurst had suddenly come down with a terrible infectious disease, that many had died, and that the mayor had quarantined the rest.

At the mention of the miners, Yonnis chimed in. He said he had heard the mines were potentially in danger from a group of goblins, and was in the area to investigate and get rid of them if necessary. Kharva hadn't heard about any particular goblin threats of late, though she had heard strange stories about a group of goblins supposedly selling magic fruit that could heal anything. At this point however, the dwarf wife fixed her gaze on Cameron. “Who is this handsome elf, and why is he so feverish? He needs to lie down and rest at once.” When they explained his plight, she looked grave. “We have no-one here who can remove such an evil malady, but you can stay here and tend to him as long as you like. It costs two gold pieces per day for full room and board.” She clapped her hands and directed the serving maid who answered to take Cameron to a bed immediately. She then continued questioning the other members of the group, who politely introduced themselves. When Nameless mentioned that he was a novice from the Abbey of the Vigilant Eye, Kharva thought for a moment and said, "Vigilant Eye, eh? Devotees of Helm, are you?" The monk nodded. Kharva also got the names of Elvis and Ogy, but they, like Nameless, never explained the nature of their business in the area. Indeed, they would have been hard pressed to get a word in, for Lanatil had now launched into an account of their encounter with the orcs and acquisition of the amulet. At this point the half-elf bard, who had long since stopped playing his instrument so as to listen in on the conversation, began to take particular interest. Kharva introduced him as someone who might be able to read the document they had taken from the dead orc leader. His name was Bon.

Bon asked them to repeat every detail of their encounter with the orcs. Lanatil was quick to oblige, but Elvis interrupted. “First I’d like to know something about you and why exactly you’re so interested.” Bon smiled. “Ah, a man of caution. I like that. I can tell you that I am an enemy of the Zhentarim. My friends here are Freedom Riders, which as your halfling friend from Dagger Falls can tell you, are the comrades in arms of Randal Morn. How are things in Dagger Falls these days, Mr. Hairsplitter?” Ogy too was somewhat wary. “Do you know someone named Kessla?,” he asked without explanation.

“I know of a Kessla,” responded Bon. “But I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her. My comrades and I are here both to help to defend the Dell and to keep watch on this area. We know the Zhentarim are planning a counter stroke against Morn, and are trying to gather what intelligence we can. It’s rather too bad you killed those orcs, as it would have been desirable to follow them and see where they were going.”

“They were going in the direction of Dagger Falls,” said Ogy.

“They couldn’t have been planning to go far in that direction,” responded the bard. “Dagger Falls is in Morn’s hands, and such a small group was far too vulnerable to challenge his stronghold. Usually Zhentarim travel in stronger groups, which means that these must have been on a mission calling for stealth. They must have been going to a place meant to be kept secret. That’s why this letter you confiscated may be of great value. May I see it?”

Elvis said they would share the letter on the condition that its meaning be shared with them, but even while he spoke Lanatil had already handed it over. Bon looked at it intently. “Hmmm. This is based on Damaran, but it’s in code. I can’t read it, but I know people who should be able to. Can I keep it? I think it may be valuable intelligence, and in return for letting me take it I will arrange for the lot of you to stay here at the inn free of any cost to you. And yes, my friend from Silverymoon, if we meet again after I have learned the contents of the message, I will share them with you.”

The party agreed. Then Bon asked, “Now, may I have a look at this amulet that our good druid seems to be so excited about?”

Elvis passed the precious object across the table. Bon inhaled with a slow hissing noise. “The Black Hand. Bane’s symbol.” He asked Lanatil to recount his dream again. When the druid had finished, the bard nodded, frowning. “It is true then. Bane has arisen.”

Now Nameless interjected. “You already knew this? How do you know it? What happened?”

“I have no knowledge of what happened in the planes where the gods dwell,” said Bon. “But I do know that over recent months there has been a sudden purge among the followers of Cyric, many of whom had been followers of Bane before the godswar. Apparently the Church of Bane has been reconstituting itself, and many of his prior minions are returning to his fold. We weren’t sure what to make of this, but your story leaves little doubt.” He moved his fingers quickly over the amulet, speaking the words of a spell. The amulet began to glow faintly. “It gives off a magic aura, but a modest one. It appears to be simply a holy symbol, the kind any cleric uses as a focus for meditation. But given Lanatil’s dream, I am uneasy about letting it remain here. The Dell is not without defenses, but one of its most important ones is its relative lack of importance. We could not withstand an army, if one were to consider us worth its while to conquer. I will have to consider this. But come now, you should relax from your journey and rest. Have some ale with us.”

They accepted the bard’s invitation. As they drank, Ogy, who had been itching throughout the long conversation to find some way of drawing attention to himself, suddenly offered Bon a bet. “Here Lanatil, let me borrow that rope of yours, “ the halfling said. Taking the hemp coil, still stained with the dried blood of their erstwhile prisoner, Ogy handed it to Bon and urged that he use it to tie him up. “Go ahead. Tie the best knots you can. I’ll bet you a gold piece that I can escape.” Intruigued, Bon agreed. He wrapped the rope around the tiny rogue’s body, binding arms and feet together as tightly as he knew how. Immediately Ogy began to wriggle and squirm, and within a few minutes had wormed his way free of the ropes. Joining in the laughter and applause, Bon handed Ogy a gold piece. “Nice job, Mr. Hairsplitter.”

That night, Cameron’s condition improved. He was still feverish, but he did not lose any more vitality. Lanatil tended him all the next day, and by the following evening his fever had broken. His tall body was still very weak and sluggish, but safely out of danger.

The morning after their arrival at the Dell, Bon had come to speak to Elvis and the others. “I’m afraid that amulet cannot stay here,” he said. “Last night a Baneguard tried to gain entrance to the Dell. The fangs destroyed it, but a few were badly wounded in the process.” In response to their queries, the bard explained that a Baneguard is a particular type of undead creature, a skeletal warrior armed with various magical weapons and defenses. As the name implies, the secret of creating these deadly servants was first developed by the Church of Bane. “As I said yesterday, I don’t believe the amulet to be of any great intrinsic power. I think it is just a clerical holy symbol. But Bane is the kind of god who does not like others to take his property." Elvis, who by now had conducted his own magical examination of the amulet, agreed. “Still,” the wizard said, “instead of just leaving it somewhere for Bane’s retrieval, I’d prefer to destroy it.” Bon thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. If you’ll give the amulet to me, I’ll take it to the dwarves’ smithy. If anyone will know how to unmake this thing, they will.” Elvis agreed.