9 Flamerule, 1502 DR

Secrets Gathering Dust

Party: Rokka, Snap, Forvist, Aber, and Evander

My second expedition with the Syndicate led us into the Greypeak Mountains at the request of Nahaunglaroth, the great blue dragon. Evidently, the Syndicate had previously earned his favor by dealing with a plague in the nearby forests, and so another task was entrusted to us.

A hobgoblin named Hario, clad in finely kept armor reminiscent of an ancient legionary, arrived bearing the dragon's instructions. Somewhere beneath the Greypeaks rested the tomb of a wizard named Fineas, dead for roughly a century. Nahaunglaroth desired only two things from the tomb: the wizard's skull and his staff. Everything else, we were told, was up for grabs, if we chose. It seemed a fair arrangement.

After crossing the Delimbiyr River and several hours' travel into the mountains, we found a forgotten staircase descending beneath the earth. Dust was thick upon every step. We came  upon a door with an inscription, written in Undercommon: "Here lies Fineas. Try not to wake him, or fear his wraith." A grammatical error, or a warning?

My inability to see in complete darkness continues to be an inconvenience, though Aber's enchanted rapier shed enough light for us to proceed, until I remembered I had a Bullseye Lantern. Beyond the entrance stood a stone statue of Fineas clutching a staff, alongside a heavy portcullis that refused to budge. A button sat mockingly on the opposite side, quite beyond our reach. After a brief discussion, we chose instead to investigate a nearby door.

An arcane sigil above its frame caught my attention. A quick casting of Detect Magic revealed a spell of fear woven into the enchantment, though before we had much opportunity to study it, the tomb offered its own welcome, in the form of five ghasts.

I managed to wreath one of the creatures in Faerie Fire, making it an easier target for my companions, though the spell proved less effective than I had hoped. Before the battle could conclude, shadows emerged from behind the portcullis, silently drifting toward us with strength-sapping necrotic magic.

Once the creatures had been dealt with, we searched what appeared to have once been Fineas's library. Though much had succumbed to age, I was delighted to discover an Enduring Spellbook, its pages preserved by enchantment to be resistant to fire and water. Deeper within the complex we passed a mural illustrating the grim progression from mortal spellcaster to lich. Shortly thereafter, both Aber and I fell victim to a concealed guillotine trap.

The next chamber carried the distinct odor of alchemical gas. Snap inadvertently discovered the pressure plate responsible for releasing it, while Rokka attempted to open a locked door nearby. The lock, it turned out, was the least dangerous thing in the room. More ghasts, and more shadows. Several rounds into the fighting, the accumulating gas ignited.

Remarkably, we survived. After taking a short rest to gather ourselves, we continued onward. Another chamber presented us with a curious inscription: "Death is the only exit." There was also a lever, so naturally, I pulled it. Nothing appeared to happen.

Moments later, Rokka opened a nearby chest, causing the stalactite-heavy ceiling to begin descending toward us. Fortunately, we discovered a narrow passage beneath the floor and escaped moments before the chamber sealed itself. Unfortunately, Forvist escaped in a different direction.

Separated from the rest of us, Forvist found himself battling two shadows entirely alone while we searched for another route. Unknown to us at the time, he also located the mechanism that halted a river of acid blocking our own progress. We benefited greatly from his efforts while being entirely unaware they were happening. 

Beyond the acid lay Fineas's burial chamber, considerably more ornate than the rest of the tomb. At its center rested the wizard's sarcophagus. Having come all this way, it seemed only proper to confirm the occupant. In hindsight, the inscription at the entrance had been perfectly clear. Fineas rose as a wraith, accompanied by five skeletal guardians.

The battle that followed was the fiercest within the tomb, but with persistence, we prevailed. Fineas's remains were finally laid to rest, and we recovered both his skull and the staff promised to Nahaunglaroth. Hario accepted the relics without ceremony upon our return and saw that we received our reward.

I cannot help wondering what drove Fineas so completely toward undeath. The mural, the preserved library, the careful construction of his tomb…it all suggested a man consumed less by mortality than by the fear of its inevitable conclusion.

6 Flamerule, 1502 DR** 

Loudwater Caravan Duty

My first official assignment with the Syndicate was significantly more eventful than advertised. Lucky me!

Our party was dispatched to Loudwater to assist the city watch with inspecting caravans entering through the southern gate. We were met upon arrival by Watchman Volantis, a no-nonsense silver dragonborn captain who assured us the work would be uneventful, then immediately handed us a pair of manacles and instructed us not to kill anyone.

The work itself was straightforward enough. Our job was to examine travel papers, compare them against the contents of each wagon, and ensure nothing dangerous found its way into the city.

Our first inspection was, thanfully, ordinary. Two harengon merchants, Buggs and Judy Hopps, were transporting chilled produce and barrels of mayonnaise in an insulated wagon. Their paperwork was in order, and the cargo matched their declaration. The blast of cold air that escaped when their wagon was opened was almost refreshing in the afternoon heat.

The next wagon belonged to a halfling family relocating to Loudwater. Their documents accounted for seven travelers, (2 parents plus 5 children) yet nine sat in the cart. For a brief moment I thought we had uncovered our first deception, but the explanation was considerably more wholesome: Newborn twins, Saturday and Sunday, born after the original visas had been issued.

Both parents looked utterly exhausted, and I suspect neither had slept properly in weeks. Lady Valentina conjured a small illusion to entertain the children while we sorted out the discrepancy. The relief on April, the mother's, face was immediate. We chose to admit the family despite the outdated paperwork. Bureaucracy has its place, but compassion ought to have one as well, right?

The following wagon was less ordinary. Two dwarven “painters”, Vincent and Picasso, claimed to be transporting artwork. Their wagon's rear wheel had broken, forcing one of them to support the cart by hand while traveling. Everything seemed in order until Aber attempted to inspect a wooden chest. The chest objected, rather forcefully. It revealed itself to be a mimic and promptly adhered itself to Aber's arm with alarming enthusiasm.

Almost simultaneously, the cart waiting behind the dwarves erupted into chaos as several travelers revealed themselves to be wererats accompanied by swarms of ordinary rats. Lady Valentina and Jueinuma prevented the two dwarves from escaping, then the group dealt with the considerably more pressing matter of not being eaten or turned into rats.

I remained well behind my companions for most of the fighting. There seemed little wisdom in placing myself within reach of either the mimic or the wererats, so I contributed where I could, distracting our opponents with cutting remarks while Aber and Snap bore the worst of the assault.

Aber underwent a startling transformation once battle began. Whatever power fuels his rage altered his form, sprouting monstrous claws that proved remarkably effective against our attackers. I would like to learn more about that phenomenon, provided it is not considered an impolite subject.

In the end, the rats and their apparent leader were slain, the mimic destroyed, and the dwarves captured alive. Several of us were bloodied, but thankfully none were lost.

Curiously, the city watch arrived only after the fighting had concluded. Watchman Volantis seemed less interested in the successful defense of Loudwater than in reprimanding us for killing the creatures involved, citing his earlier instruction not to do so. I argued that giant rats, wererats in beast form, and carnivorous chests hardly qualified as "people" in the context of his order. My reasoning did not appear to influence his report, however.

Our payment was reduced accordingly. Each of us received twelve gold pieces and a potion of healing. I shall be interested to read whatever account the city watch records of today's events. I suspect mine is the more accurate of the two.