State of the Syndicate, Marpenoth 1502 D.R.
I've little that I care to write here. Work has actually picked up a little bit for me, which is a blessing. It takes my mind off of things I would rather not think about. Dragons, undead, horsemen... Briarfael has returned, thank the elements.
I am trying to maintain a professional attitude, but enough has happened which I do not wish to write about to complicate matters greatly for me. I have begun to consider moving on from the Syndicate. The roots I had set down are not as firmly... rooted... as I had hoped. I've made no decisions as yet; just something to think about.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
GM: Coniglio26 Marpenoth 1502 D.R.
SEER, with whom I have done some fairly extensive work in the past, was captured. Her familiar, a pseudodragon, called upon the help of the Syndicate to retrieve her, and Lief, Cyrus, Wuyon'e, Arlis, and myself answered the call.
I... could wish it had been others to answer the call rather than they.
SEER had been exploring the ruins of the Ulcaster Academy, which some of us had previously delved, and there been ambushed. We met with her familiar in nearby Beregost, were... briefly.... briefed, and went on our way to search.
Cyrus and Wuyon'e were at each other's throats immediately. It was a constant running dialogue of insults and attacks and defenses. I was obliged to raise my voice against them more than once. Lief and Arlis stayed mostly out of it, but none of us were unsullied with infighting. It was frankly an embarrassment. We were more a threat to ourselves than were our enemies, a few paltry undead and vampire spawn led by a chatty vampire.
Old Ulcaster, the headmaster of the school who had previously been a ghost but was restored, had apparently managed to get himself trapped in a soul jar again, and his body buried. He decided to rectify this by usurping Lief's body when we got close to him to ask for our help. We of course obliged, with the promise of a reward, but by flame and wind, I was tempted to find out what would happen if I bound him to his jar and smashed it. Anyway, Ulcaster is back in his body again, for now. He should be more careful around jars in the future. I believe that was what trapped his spirit and rendered him a ghost in the first place.
Done with that side task, we got on with the main job of saving Seer's life. We fought our way through minor vampire spawn who posed little threat to us, and horrid black oozes that smelled more strongly than they struck, and what is, I believe, the third undead eye tyrant I have faced. If I had a silver for every undead eye tyrant, and so forth, weird that it's happened three times so far.
Soon enough, we found the vampire in charge of it all, with a hypnotized SEER by his side. He tried to monologue at us. Cyrus would have allowed it, I believe -- I do not know his plan -- but the rest of us, most notably myself, were having none of it. I regret taking the direct path, somewhat; I generally at least try to talk first. But I felt confident that the creature would not deal in good faith, and anyway, SEER was my highest priority. We ganged up and beat him into red mist in a few seconds. Unfortunately, the red mist remained ambulatory and fled through a crack in the wall. I would have pursued, but was blocked by some phantasmal force. We retrieved the now-unconscious but safe SEER and returned to Beregost triumphant.
At no point, I must stress, did the cross-talk cease. This was not a group I especially enjoyed working with, despite my friendship with... well, all of them, individually. Recommend splitting them up in the future, at least Wuyon'e and Cyrus.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
GM: Sludger24 Marpenoth 1502 D.R.
In a first for me, the Syndicate was called upon by... the Syndicate. I do not mean that Thrax sent us to perform some task, nor even that a member rallied a team; instead, one of the kobolds -- the one I've dubbed the OK Kobold -- apparently took an interest in our last job and decided, of his own volition, to do a follow-up.
I was... hesitant about the entire situation, which was demonstrably not OK on many counts. Still, the OK Kobold offered us coin and magic items, though I'll not put to parchment my suspicions as to where he acquired them where Thrax can so easily read it. We took the job. A tenday or so ago, we had been called to face a headless horseman called Conquest. Today, myself, Solia, Surx, Tova, and Salviron were sent to face his brother, War -- the second, it seems, of four.
We enlisted the help of the ghostly woman who had previously enlisted us to deal with Conquest; she obliged us by providing some traps to set up the battlefield, as we had advance warning of War's approach. But it was Salviron's magic tower and illusion-work that really set the battlefield in our favor. We funneled the enemy to a single point, and each of us were able to play to our strengths.
The horseman was the last to appear, of course, but even after having spent several long minutes fighting off his horde of minions, he was no match for us. Salviron stunned his horse and so dismounted him, and I held him off while Solia, Tova, and Surx rained hell down upon his head. When he perished, so too did the skeletons he commanded.
I expect the OK Kobold will be summoning us again -- twice. For the time being, though, this part of the job is done.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr.
GM: Fridge23 Marpenoth, 1502 D.R.
A dragon with whom I had dealt with previously called upon me again, this time through the Syndicate, and this time under a different name than the one he had used before. A young green dragon, Greenshard Toxinflight, had asked me to help him kill a fully-grown adult red dragon who, he claimed, had stolen his lair. I did so.
Now, under the new name of Vilastramoz, the green dragon -- substantially grown into a mature form in the couple of tendays since last I saw him -- wanted my help killing a different dragon: an ancient white, far to the north near Icewind Dale. He had no interest in lair or hoard, but wanted the dragon's heart brought to him.
I am fairly confident the creature did not directly lie to me, not in any way I can prove, but I have been visited by the mate of the red dragon I previously slew. That dragon, Volacane the Catastrophe, informed me that the younger green had claimed their rightful lair and destroyed their eggs along with it. I hesitated to work with the wretched creature again, and frankly, doing so made me sick in a way no poison can match. But a job is a job, and I am a godsbedamned professional. The others -- Snap, Bri, and Sylk -- had fewer qualms. They didn't know about the destruction of the eggs, and I didn't see fit to volunteer the information in front of the perpetrator himself, but I doubt it would have stopped them. If it would, well, let them learn of it in this report, and share my disgust. I am fairly confident that Vilastramoz devoured the eggs in some foul draconic ritual to speed his growth, as he intends to do again with Telestromoz's heart.
Ugh. A red dragon is a greater threat than ever Greenshard Toxinflight was, by its very existence; and an ancient white dragon is a greater threat even than the mature form of Vilastromoz is. But I am reasonably certain that he will be the size of the white we slew, the next time we see him.
Well, I am getting ahead of myself. We passed north, and Sylk talked us past a group of frost giant guards -- and then two larger, stronger-looking honor guards. We entered the white dragon's lair and spoke briefly; he declined to buy us off, an opportunity I afforded him because Vilastromoz had declined to pay us in advance, and we were obliged to stand to battle.
I say "we." I spent the entire battle with my feet frozen to the floor, as useless in practice as I have felt for the past several months. Fortunately, the others were equal to the task without me.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
GM: Sludger16 Marpenoth, 1502 D.R.
The Syndicate was called upon by a strange, ghostly woman called Agatha, which is both a common name and an appropriate one for a ghost for reasons I cannot explain. Myself, Solia, Surx, Tova, and Lief answered the call. It was a relatively straightforward mission, if a long one: destroy a bunch of undead and slay their leader, a horseman short a head.
The first batch of skeletons posed little trouble. Though they were alert, they did not see us coming, and we were able to take them by surprise. Solia and Tova collaborated to create what they colorfully called a "pain sandwich," an area of raining spellfire and spiked growth in a wide area of effect that kept the horde locked down, spread out, and fairly useless while we mopped them up.
The second group was larger, and tougher as well. By then we had identified several distinct types of the monsters, but there were simply too many; the pain sandwich was still effective, but less so than it had been previously. We persevered, however, thanks in part to the timely return of Solia's companion Briarfael.
Words fail me, and... well, my feelings on the subject are generally outside the scope of this mission. Suffice it to say, we dealt with the second group and then, at last, faced off with the horseman himself. He identified himself as Conquest, the first of four brothers. He was a jovial fellow, all things considered, but I for one grew swiftly tired of his antics. He reminded me of Vincel. We destroyed him, and with his passing, the remaining lesser skeletons vanished into dust.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
GM: Sludger5 Marpenoth, 1502 D.R.
The party -- consisting of myself, Solia, Vincel, Surx, and Arlis -- were called upon by Seer of the Lord's Alliance, with whom we have worked before in various capacities. Today, we were summoned to the town of Beregost, where we met our benefactor to discuss, before traveling eastward to the apparently notorious Durlag's Tower. Our task was fairly straightforward: a couple of rogue ex-Zhentarim had taken up residence, and the tower itself was said to be infested with traps and fiends. We were to clear a path to the entryway of the tower, after which... someone would follow after us, but our task was to secure a foothold against Seer's enemy, a giant whose forces we have faced before. It is uncanny how frequently the interests of these two conflict.
There were indeed many fiends, and that was before we even entered the tower proper. We were equal to their challenge, however, and dealt with them handily. A mad druid lurked in a glade nearby, tormented by elemental spirits she had apparently inadvertently summoned, and by some horrid curse inflicted by the fiendish master of this place. I was able to restore her mind, and she made good her retreat with her gratitude.
The ex-Zhentarim assassins attacked us en route to the tower itself. Their initial attack caught us by surprise, but we rallied and cornered them one by one; their trickery was no match.
Within the tower, a puzzle. I confess I was of little use in this; there were those better suited to it in the party, and those who enjoy such things. I haven't the patience. They handled it. Success opened the way to the elevator. It also opened the way from the elevator to us, which was important, because the fiend who had broken the druid's mind soon came out of it, along with reinforcements, to break ours.
We were made of sterner stuff, however. These fiends were no match, either. Durlag's Tower stands open and ready for future exploration, but -- though I am curious -- that was not to be our task, at least not this night.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
State of the Syndicate: Elient 1502 D.R.
I hardly know where to begin. Everything has spiraled so far out of control that I cannot begin to get my bearings. I am simply reacting, trying to keep from being swept away -- and failing, and making everything worse in the process.
I usually save these reports for the tail end of the month, but I feel it likely that before too terribly long I will be unable to bring myself to write. So here we are.
First, the professional. Official jobs have been slim this month, which is unfortunately nothing new. I did receive a surprise burst of work -- three jobs in barely more than a week -- but that is all, and all that stands on the horizon unless there are further surprises. There seems no shortage of jobs for the rest of the Syndicate, however; those who joined even a few weeks ago are ranking up swiftly to my own rank or beyond.
I have no time to lament such things, however; I have better things to lament on the personal level. It seems I can do no right by my beloved, who languishes under the perpetual attack of some fell Fey creature. There seems nothing I can do to help; those who have leads to pursue are doing so, but I can do little but sit on my hands and watch her slip away. Well, that and push her away with my own stupidity and poor decisions.
My new seneschal, Grace Bennet, does her best to keep my spirits up. I find myself avoiding her for exactly that reason. Wonderful as she is, this does not seem an appropriate time for me to be comforted, even by the very best.
Something has to give. There has to be something I can do. But the more I strive, the farther she drifts. There is an inevitability to it.
I don't know what to do. I am fast losing hope, and have only determination to fall back on.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
GM: Fridge17 Elient, 1502 D.R.
Myself, Solia, Salviron, Bri, and Shev/Gobbles were dispatched once again to the town of Leadale. The mayor seemed to approve of our performance last time, and we set out again by boat, much to Bri's dismay. The trip was mostly uneventful, though at the end, we were briefly disrupted by the appearance of a giant eyeball, staring at us. It was, apparently, benign. Apart from staring and unnerving us all (except for Shobbles, who took it as a challenge he intended to win), it did nothing to trouble us, and soon disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.
The town was much the same this time as last -- bustling despite the hour, and the Mayor served us breakfast again. He also seemed oddly determined to learn our names, which I like not at all, but none of us refused him. I began to wonder if the entire place were peopled with vampires, but the others assure me I am being paranoid. No, no. The simple, obvious explanation is that they are active at night because they cannot be during the day, when the sun strips the flesh from their bones. No, they don't know why. No, they aren't particularly curious about it. This is all normal.
Whatever. I have more important mysteries to occupy my attention.
Some miners had disappeared in a local mine, according to the mayor. We were sent not so much to find and rescue them as to learn what had happened to them. The mine was long disused, and Leadale told us that anything we found there of value was ours to keep. We were also informed of "natural" gas suffusing the place, and were given equipment with which to safely breathe.
Well, we found what had happened to the miners soon enough. A couple of serpentine creatures, conversing in Draconic and hungering for brain activity, confronted us a few steps into the mine. We slew them despite their burrowing, and despite their consuming some of us (only temporarily).
With them out of the way, we were free to explore the mine. We searched the place from top to bottom, and what we found was a whole bunch of strange pinkish ore. We found, also, some mining logs identifying the -- once again -- PINK ore as "gray matter." That's brains, right? Gray matter? That's a colloquial word for brains. There was also a lot of pink goo that we convinced Shobbles to eat. It seemed to do him some good, though he said it tasted like copper. You know. Like blood, or similar stuff.
It's a brain. The mine is a giant skull, and they're mining its brains. The creatures we slew were monstrous brain-worms, and while we only encountered two of them, there was evidence of many more. We discovered and mostly destroyed their eggs. The miners had been fed to the creatures.
Once again, the others assure me I am being paranoid. The mountain in which the mine rests does not in any way resemble a skull. The mayor insists that the gray matter and pink goo are used to power their technology, which is entirely normal. He bought from us all that we found and paid us fairly for it, all things considered.
This is not normal. It is also, however, none of my business. I have more important things to worry about; this cannot be one of them.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
GM: Fridge15 Elient,1502 D.R.
Myself, Salviron, Snap, Shev, and Bri were dispatched by ship to the faraway island town of Leadale --named for its mayor's family, or vice-versa, who have ruled the place for hundreds of years, it seems. A crew of humble sea-men delivered us there in good order, though the destination was made ominous by a vast field of beached whale bones. What causes the whales to hurl themselves upon the dry sands of that island, we do not know.
It was nightfall when we arrived, but the town was bustling nonetheless. We were directed to the mayor himself, who treated us to breakfast at 8:00 in the evening. Strange, but I cannot fault it; I would have breakfast for every meal if my chef Ludmilla would allow it. Something about the mayor disconcerted me, and I held my silence for most of the affair. He directed us to salvage a shipwreck for him, carrying important cargo we didn't ask about. Guards had apparently been dispatched to the purpose, but had failed, so it was up to us expendables.
Off we went, and when we arrived on the scene, we found a veritable garrison of tentacled sea-cultists engaged in some sort of ritual... or perhaps just recovering that cargo. After a brief discussion, we charged them without much preamble; they shouted "Interlopers!" at us and then went on the offensive themselves, so I do not feel poorly about the decision. It expedited matters.
It was rather a grueling battle. The octopus-men were tougher than they looked, and called upon lightning that proved more than an irritation. Still, when we defeated the spellcasters, the warriors simply... dissolved into nothing. They were summoned from somewhere beyond, it would seem.
Once they were dispatched, we returned the salvage to Mayor Leadale, who paid us for our efforts.
Once again, one of our number who should have been present was not, and Thrax found replacement at the last moment. I fear for her. But that is unimportant to this mission.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
GM: True11 Elient, 1502 D.R.
A strange mission, in a sense. There seemed to be much lead-up involving other Syndicate members with which I am not familiar, but few if any were present in the finale. I do not object to this; it is the first job I have had in some time, and I... needed to take my mind off of things.
Captain Ilyria Vess gave us considerable background information. I confess, I understood little of it. The Many-Starred Cloaks of Neverwinter wished us -- that is, myself, Salviron Liesel, Shev (Gobbles?), Bri, and someone named Sylk, though I did not catch any further names for them -- to capture or neutralize someone named Aderyn Kest, who had taken possession of something called an Aegis Core. Recovering the Core was of paramount importance; Kest's life was tertiary.
Gyrocopters took us to the tower where the Aegis Core was housed. We were obliged to find our way through that tower, which should have been a simple matter, but odd temporal and spacial... effects... complicated matters for us. We persevered, however. I would like to say that we learned the patterns and came to understand how things worked and arrived at a reasoned solution to the problem, but ultimately, the solution was "go fast before any space/time-warping rifts get in the way." This we managed, and came to the top center of the tower.
Kest was, inevitably, there. We engaged him in combat -- Shobbles threw his strongest servitor off the tower with his mind -- and soon prevailed. We took the man alive, though for a moment he seemed to dissolve into worms after his defeat. Perhaps the warps in reality contributed to our success in that, in one way or another. Whatever the case, we ended the threat to the Core and completed the job in good order.
The wizards of the Many-Starred Cloaks of Neverwinter were quite grateful for our assistance. They gifted us many items of magic in addition to considerable pay. I am well pleased with the payout.
I would that....
No, never mind. A job well done.
-- Yashir adh Rumahr
