State of the Syndicate: Flamerule 1502 D.R.

The big news of the month has already been expounded upon by other voices than mine: the Syndicate has weathered its first full assault, while the master of the place was absent -- or lured away. Let their accounts, and those of the formal reports, stand for that. As an addendum, we have hunted down and killed the vermin responsible for it.

The Syndicate at large is still reeling, I think. There are hard feelings, stemming from poor leadership and decisions during the attack. Far from bringing us together, as it ought to have, the attack has sown seeds of discord that will likely outlive its architect. Let it be.

My business continues to grow and thrive, even as the official Syndicate work continues to falter -- for me, at least. I spend most of my time at my home. I fear I shall become a recluse. I have been obliged to make a veritable fortress of it, following the death of one of my hired guards -- Puff by name -- at the hands of trolls who slipped past my less imposing defenses. Another of my guards, called Lief, the ultimate source of much drama in my personal life, has simply vanished -- formed a relationship with Arlis, I believe, and the two of them have retreated to the privacy of their new cabin in the woods. I did the windows for the place myself.

But Optometry still rules from her castle in the sky, and I have yet to deal with her directly. A Red Wizard of Thay still wants his things back, and has the means to enforce his will upon Solia and Bri. There are still more loose ends to die up than are healthy for any of us, and I cannot begin to plan for what the future holds. I can only make as many general preparations as I can, and hope for the best.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

28 Flamerule, 1502 D.R.

Orlak is dead. Those three words are all the epitaph I will give him, and more than he deserves.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

27 Flamerule 1502 D.R.

Thrax has called upon us to establish relations with the city of Waterdeep, and to acquire the long-term use of a teleportation circle for the Syndicate at a reduced cost. I have ever avoided the city myself, but Solia was excited for it -- strange for her, as she typically dislikes large crowds -- so I did not especially mind in this instance. Still, I found myself deeply uncomfortable in these environs. It reminds me, as sprawling cities always do, of Calimport, and my memories of that place are not fond.

Upon arriving within the city, courtesy of a very expensive teleportation circle, we were given a long list of laws and the consequences for breaking them, and given also a little bit of intelligence as to some places to seek out the circle we needed. We struck off to what we deemed the likeliest options, but along the way, we toured the city a little bit.

At the Singing Sword -- a very fine tavern where I allowed Solia to talk me into buying a frankly unnecessary amount of food -- we met a noblewoman who could, perhaps, have sponsored our search, had not Bri made an enemy of her. Solia, with Arlis egging her on, then directed us to the Yawning Portal, another tavern-type establishment apparently built upon a vast subterranean dungeon. We elected not to try our luck in that dungeon just yet, but we asked the proprietor about teleportation circles. He knew nothing about such things, but by "fortunate happenstance," we were overheard by a very shady goblin who just happened to have the solution to all of our problems.

Despite Solia's initial... misgivings... we negotiated with the creature, and he eventually directed us to the City of the Dead. There we fought our way through hordes of the undead in a grueling battle that nearly ended badly, before Bri and Salviron Liesel managed to tip the scales in our favor by tipping our adversaries over the edge of a chasm.

At last, after convincing a mummy lord to just... chill... we discovered a broken teleportation circle, completely useless for our purposes. The trip and the time we spent on it were a waste, save for the items and coins we claimed for ourselves. We must simply hope the Waterdhavian law-men are not inclined to view this as tomb robbery, as that is among the list of no-no's.

But we have a lead or two for future endeavors. A waste the trip may have been, but it is not a failure until we stop trying.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

19 Flamerule 1502 D.R.

Following the unexpected and grueling attack upon the Syndicate, the assessors left behind a trail easy to follow. Led by Solia, a group of the highest-ranking members set forth to follow it: myself, Bri, and Vincel.

What we found was, frankly, too much even for us. The forces we discovered at fortress at the end of that path in the Graypeak Mountains were easily thrice those that had nearly overwhelmed the entire Syndicate: goblins and hobgoblins, bolstered not only by their infernal allies but by -- according to their garb -- the Zhentarim. It seems Orlak has remade his old alliances, for the time being at least.

We were forced to retreat for an undisclosed period of time to reevaluate and plan -- for we would surely never take that fortress without an army of our own. Infiltration, carefully planned, was the only way.

Fortunately, we had ideas. We had learned, months past, of ancient, sprawling Dwarven tunnels that spread beneath the land, which we suspected Orlak had also discovered and was using. With research and exploration, we were able to uncover a nearby entrance to those tunnels and, eventually, to make our way quietly within.

It was not long before we encountered guards -- devils, specifically. We were obliged to fight, but the battle was swift and quiet, and the devils raised no cry. Proceeding then through the network of tunnels, we found many prisoners and, at Solia's urging, set them free with what provisions we could spare to make their own way home.

Avoiding a deviously trapped door, we continued on, finding along the way some references to a fiendish "supervisor" who was visiting today for an inspection. We encountered her soon enough. She was not willing to talk productively, but while she put up little fight herself, her explosive minions wrought fiery havoc upon us all before we brought them down.

After resting and recuperating, we returned to disable the trapped door, as it was one of only two paths forward. It led to a veritable Rube Goldberg hallway (to reference the famed gnomish Artificer) of strange traps and pitfalls. We were able to negotiate them, however, and came at last to a stairway, which we ascended.

Previous intelligence had informed us that Orlak had allied himself not only with fiends, but with a dragon and a beholder. The latter awaited us up those stairs. He represented, as it turned out, the Zhentarim. He was willing to strike a bargain, but only under his own unacceptable terms, and when Bri's patience ran out and she ventured upon overt insult, hostilities naturally ensued. Alas; were it up to me, I would build better relations between the Syndicate and the other major mercenary band, but it was not to be, not this day at least. We did manage to learn from him that Orlak himself was "downstairs" -- referencing a second staircase behind him, but one blocked by a warded and difficult gate.

The beholder was a deadly threat, but through numbers and determination we overwhelmed him before his eye-beams could overwhelm us. We settled in to recover ourselves from the battle, and to find a way onward to Orlak himself -- but what followed is the subject for another note, as this one has run overlong already.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

17 Flamerule 1502 D.R., Part 2

The second wave was worse than the first. Our kobold allies, largely inept as they had been, were still useful in the first wave; they were all dead when the second came. Worse yet, I was caught outside, trying to prevent the catapults from being reused -- and the enemy did not notice me there, and focused all of their attention upon Arlis and the kobold called Snap. Brave and competent as they both are, they are not as resilient as I, and the arrows of our enemies took a dreadful toll upon them from which they would spend the rest of the battle recovering.

Still worse, invisible imps had slipped within the walls of the Syndicate and were slaughtering our kobold artillery. Surx linked some of our minds, and I let Solia know about them -- but they got the drop on her even as she hunted them. I confess I rather lost my head when I heard her fall, but Arlis and Surx talked me down, and the latter went to her aid in my stead.

The battle was grueling from there, but reinforcements arrived from the members of the Syndicate who hadn't made it in the first wave. Finally, once the hobgoblin captains were slain, the remaining forces lost their morale and were quickly routed.

Now all that remains is to deal with Orlak himself. Before he strikes again.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

17 Flamerule 1502 D.R.

I would have been content to remain at home, with my partner beside me, but Solia had matters to attend at the Syndicate. Reluctantly, I elected to accompany her there.

It is well that I did. Had we lounged the day away as I desired, Orlak's surprise attack might have devastated the entire Syndicate and razed the fortress to the ground.

It began no sooner than Solia and I had crossed the drawbridge. Horns sounded, drums beat, and with hardly a moment to gather ourselves or prepare, the tide of goblins, hobgoblins, and fell fiends was upon us, backed by siege towers and engines of war that could have torn the walls asunder, pushed by ogres nearly as tall as the walls themselves.

The Syndicate turned out in answer. Despite conflicting cries and attempts to take charge and direct the chaos, each member performed more or less as they saw fit. For all that, it came together well enough, and we fought back the horde at the gates, dividing our numbers east and west to address our foes as they came.

On my side -- the west -- I was able to bring down their tower before I had to fall back, but not before it disgorged an army of bugbears that wrought havoc upon the battlements before they were finally brought down. With Solia, Arlis, Ivor, and several members I do not know well enough to name, we held at the bridge until the enemy was routed.

That was when the second wave came....

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

7 Flamerule 1502 D.R.

Salviron. Mimsy. Arlis. Shev. Me.

I am not a godsbedamned babysitter. Not for people and especially not for owlbears. I pray that Thrax does not make that mistake again. So, I am sure, do the owlbears.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

State of the Syndicate: Kythorn 1502

It has been quite a month.

Official Syndicate jobs remain sparse, for me at least. It has been frustrating, in a certain sense, to watch the newer members sallying forth each day and not being able to help them. I fear my skills and instincts languish from disuse.

Unofficially, however, things have been much busier. No sooner did I complete a renovation of Shining Peaks than it was attacked by mercenaries sent by Optometry. Much to my own surprise, I was able to renegotiate their loyalty in my favor, and they have proven remarkably loyal and steadfast. Together we moved on a location intended to give us information on Optometry's sky castle, but it was a trap. We have a new line of attack, however. A local dragon has provided us information instead.

In the interim, much to my even greater astonishment, the relationship between Solia and myself has... developed. It has become a relationship indeed. These two things -- relationship and new hirelings -- have complicated one another in ways I do not care to describe here or anywhere.

All of this pales in comparison to Solia's own complications. She simply vanished for five days. Half the Syndicate turned out to search for her, and then she turned up as suddenly as she had gone, in the den of a malevolent dragon, wounded and half dead, with a fantastical tale of Fey prisons and monsters and paths and gatekeepers. I have not yet begun to comprehend... any of it, really. She is returned to me. That is all that matters. Well, not all. But it matters most.

The future is uncertain. Optometry still lives. The hunt for Orlak continues. In many ways, progress seems to have stagnated. But I am undeterred. The Syndicate is growing, new members signing on nearly every day. My confidence grows alongside it that we can face any and all of these threats, together.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

Kythorn 30, 1502 D.R.

A job two days in a row! This is practically unheard of in these times, and I rather dislike being away this frequently given the circumstances surrounding my personal life. Still, when Captain Aurora calls for help, she seems to have begun asking for me by name.

Today, the assembled group -- myself, Shev, Vincel, Salviron, and Temoren -- were sent to an island town. One of the mad pirate king Uazi's men had defected, taking with him a powerful artifact intended to bring down the Maelstrom and raise the evil sea leviathan god Joturr from his watery prison... there is a great deal of backstory here. The Dark Tide -- an evil pirate crew horribly transformed under Uazi's influence in the name of Joturr... it doesn't get better. The Dark Tide was attacking the town to catch this defector and recover the artifact. We were tasked with escorting the defector to safety and safeguarding the artifact, an ancient orrey.

While the Dark Tide bombarded the island with ballistae and lightning, we fought our way through a secret tunnel, through a crowded marketplace (where we incidentally rescued a desperate family from an alchemical fate worse than death), and through the town proper. We succeeded in getting the defector to the Cutlass, Aurora's ship -- with a brief pause to help him survive the effects of a horrific concoction Uazi had forced down his throat to transform him into something horrid -- but, spontaneous change of plans as the orrey erupted with a light matched by a nearby lighthouse, we were obliged to take the orrey to the lighthouse and activate it.

We succeeded in this task. It... it was a lot, and I still am uncertain of the final results of the endeavor, but Captain Aurora escaped with the defector and the orrey appears to be safe. I do not know how to lay it all out in a succinct form that makes any sense. I can only offer my apologies to the readers for what must be a confusing story.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr

Kythorn 29, 1502 D.R.

Tonight's adventure was unique in that it had two beginnings.

Shev, Solia, Bri, myself, and a tall, giggly new person apparently named Vincel were sent to the forest of Cormanthor, Solia's birthplace. There we were to recover an old chalice from an ancient temple, and to return it to a Dara. We were told in the message that the people of the local town, Lighthouse, would have more information for us about the temple. We went to the town of Lighthouse, spoke to several of the townsfolk, and were given much crucial information to help us on our way. Accordingly, we recovered the artifact without difficulty.

On our way back, however, we were evidently ambushed by a raving lunatic, who somehow overpowered us all and relieved us of our things -- and our memories. Thus the second beginning: we awoke with nothing but our smallclothes, and were immediately cast into a battle with wil-o'-wisps in some sort of dream world.

Once we overcame those wisps, we returned to the real world with nothing but a potion bearing a cryptic riddle written upon it: the one who had robbed us had given our possessions to a third party, and left us with an irritating logic puzzle in order to find it. Give the potion to the right person, and that person would return our things to us. Following the instructions, we retraced our steps to the temple and recovered a few pieces of information regarding the logic puzzle. On the way back out, we were ambushed again, by the same personage. He... put up less of a fight this time around, apparently, despite his obnoxious minions, and we took his notebook with the final pieces of the puzzle.

After we solved the riddle, we returned to the town of Lighthouse and found the correct person to give the potion to. Drinking it, he apparently recovered memories that had been stolen from him, and returned our things to us. With a little extra for Thrax.

Oh, and we were not paid for our trouble. The chalice we had gone to recover had been destroyed after being taken from us, it seems.

I cannot help but feel this entire mission was a farce from the beginning.

-- Yashir adh Rumahr