The request for this job was in a small logging town nestled between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. The man who met us there, Wren, explained temple doors had been exposed from receding waters, and the townspeople have been far too afraid to venture close, frightened off by the strange mist seeping from the entrance and imagery of figures worshipping beholders.

Against better judgement and as we had been tasked, our party followed the directions there. We immediately found that the temple was trapped, and curiously, the reliefs inside depicting the beholders had been scratched out. There were three passages that branched off from the initial room we found this in. We detected movement behind the door to the right, which I can only describe as a wet, rhythmic sound, so we decided to secure the others first as it did not pose an immediate danger.

We were forced to clear out a hallway of zombies to head in further. Shooting off from an altar room we used to open many of the temple’s doors, we encountered a jail. In one of the cells, trapped within an orb, was something I never thought I would encounter: a friendly beholder. At first I was, very reasonably, extremely wary of him, but after speaking with him, we were inclined to believe he is actually just an idiot, trapped here after scaring those that imprisoned him. In retrospect, I should have asked more of his story, but he didn’t seem like the type to be able to give an accurate answer. This beholder said his name was Narren, and knowing allowing him to leave immediately would cause problems with the locals, we invited him to continue investigating the temple. He did provide some interesting information, at least, such as pointing out the pool where they used to boil virgins.

The party pushed in further and encountered a group of bandits robbing the temple. A man pulled a lapis stone from a statue, which triggered a swath of smog to pour out. In the most wonderful turn of events, we found this gas to be poisoned, and Narren helpfully informed us that this was designed to blanket the entire Sword Coast. I expected a temple dedicated to beholders, not a genocidal and ecological disaster waiting to happen. By the grace of the good gods we managed to take them out and set the stone back in its place.

We reported our findings and the remaining danger to Wren. I would have suggested sending a team to eradicate the undead beholder, however the village seemed content to simply seal the temple and let the waters cover it when the drought is over.

I wonder if I’m going to be the one on call to solve the problem. Again. Dorris seemed rather shaken up by the fight; hopefully she can rest after this ordeal. She seemed too innocent to join the Syndicate, and that supposition might’ve been correct. I don’t think she expected that she may have to kill.

This mission found me back in the city of Phlan. There had been reports of members of the local clergy—Phlan’s Faithful of Kelevmor, I believe—gone missing, and we were tasked by the Doomguide to investigate what had been happening. We were guided by one of their acolytes, Cassyt, given her knowledge of the crypts.

Apparently the crypts have existed long before the city was erected above it. When we entered, I noticed some of the architecture was perhaps a few hundred years old, but the stairs that led in were far more ancient. It was almost dissonant, knowing those halls could house remains forgotten for possibly a thousand years, yet there were banquets held near the entrance for the ones recently passed. Concerningly, it didn’t take much exploration beyond that point to experience our first encounter. We had to fend off a small group of zombies a short walk away in the “bone pit room,” because of course there was a bone pit room, and of course I had to slip into it.

We pressed on after that. Our party ran across more of the Welcomers; Ssrin escorted them out with more tact than I expected from the woman considering our previous job, and we rejoined for the push towards the Necropolis. If it wasn’t so eerie, it might have been beautiful; it was a city unto itself, tucked beneath the earth. Fortunately, we didn’t have to stay there long—I don't understand how Cassyt felt so comfortable there. From an offshoot of the hall we entered the Necropolis from, we found our first real danger: a Red Wizard searching the tomb for an unknown to us and a small band of kobolds, undead, and ghouls….

On second thought, I don’t really wish to write on this any longer. I know this helps me keep my thoughts on record and it’s useful for processing the experience, but I don’t want to process this one, or think about it anymore. I never want to feel the way I did ever again. It’s times like this I feel angry at her for what she pressed me into. All I wanted was a quiet life, and she clawed me down with her.

We managed to fight through it. The crew that was robbing the crypts escaped. That’s it.

At least John seems to have found someone he likes very much.

For sake of security I will not divulge the events that led to our mission. Our employer was not one to show their face or give more intel than what was required of us—and given the nature of it, I think it grossly negligent to leave a detailed record in the form of writing.

In essence, this recounting eschews most of the inane happenings we encountered. Or the ones the others committed.

The initial job itself involved espionage. We posed as interested buyers in dragon eggs being sold by suspected members of the Cult of Tiamat. This made for a great opportunity to test my new armor model, and the job went exactly as planned, partly in thanks to my own innovation—I have to say that I’m very pleased with my work and its performance on the proving grounds. If only the artisan guilds in Waterdeep would have me back… Once I have actual armor completed rather than the frame, it will be far more fearsome in battle. Regardless, I’m straying from the topic. It was found afterwards that the eggs were fakes and instead some intricate contraption. I worried that these were explosive devices made to kill, but on further inspection they seemed to be more akin to flash grenades—a good way to escape if your buyer suspected foul play.

A third party attacked us soon after from the local thieves’ guild, but they were soundly dealt with. It was also in this job that I finally encountered the brand of people I expected from the Syndicate. It was certainly an experience watching a man be robbed, stripped naked, beg, and be horrifically emasculated before dying on the end of a point. The opportunists proved to be inconsequential.

The kobold that was to be running our teleporter back was late, so we regrouped in the teahouse we originally met in. While there, because nothing ever goes smoothly, we caught word of a goblin attack at one of the farmsteads. We tracked them through the jungle to their hideout where they were holding the farmhands captive. We fought our way into the first room where we dispatched the guards. The others were not alerted by some incredible stroke of luck or stupidity on their end, and we struck a deal in coin to free the slaves. We managed to strike down the slaver and retrieve our gold just as his roar called an entire cave system’s worth of goblin inhabitants to reinforce him. We managed to usher the human group back to Phlan, earning us goodwill in the process.

My first job with the Syndicate. This occurred within the week of joining, and I will say, it was not quite what I expected. When I signed on I thought I would be surrounded by experienced mercenaries and soldiers. It was comforting that was not the case, but perhaps not as comforting that some of us nearly died multiple times.

The job was represented by a man named Gundar Shornshield. Longsaddle has been experiencing a plight at the claws of wild griffins, and we were tasked to handle them. Our little group witnessed for itself an attack on the markets before we set off into the woods with the warning that the last adventuring party did not return. Thrilling.

We had the pleasure of falling into the river a few times during our hike and facing off against wild dogs until we made it to the nesting cliffs, which was where most of the danger was. We sent two groups upwards with the hope of evading notice, which the one I accompanied did, which gave us some edge in the fight. Unfortunately, both Zena and Kyril faced great danger, but thanks to Yap, I believe it was, they survived.

By the end we stole what eggs remained and reported back to Longsaddle. It seems the griffins are of the northern variety and had been pressed from their natural territory by a more fearsome predator. I have always disliked animals and today only strengthened that. With the exception of one young escapee, it appears the problem has been dealt with. Hopefully local trappers can see to it the end while more experienced hunters can strike at the root of the problem.