An Uneasy Encounter and a Journey Prepared

It was late when we arrived pier-side in Port Nyanzaru, and much of the bustle seen in the daylight hours was on the wane. As we removed our equipment from the dugout canoes we had used for traversing the River Shoshenstar and stretched travel wearied muscles, Eku, in her heavily accented Common, spoke: "Friends, I will finish taking care of the canoes. If you are looking for some entertainment this evening, there is a special performer there. A traveller, and a bard, of great renown, who will be tonight performing at the Thundering Lizard. You would do yourselves a disservice if you missed it."
That sounded like an excellent idea to me.
"What do you think, friends," I asked, and there was general agreement that some entertainment would be a welcome respite after the long days of insects, heat, and paddling.
"Are the baths still open, I wonder," asked Osa.
"Surely, friend, they do not close in Port Nyanzaru," replied Eku. I had not heard such a good suggestion in a while, and by the looks on the faces of my companions, I was not alone. We set off for the baths.
I was a new man after a good soak and a scrub, the steam of the thermae followed by the mind-clearing effects and refreshment of the frigidarium made the hardships of jungle living seem almost a distant memory. Only the thoughts of the encounter in the temple of Obtao lingered. What path had I started down when I grasped the dagger Obtao's aspect had presented me. Violence. While certainly not afraid to defend my friends, myself, or what is right, I do not consider myself a violent man. With a shudder, I put the thoughts behind me and set out for the Thundering Lizard. Perhaps what I needed was some drink, some companionship, and some music to get my mind right.
Upon arriving back at the Thundering Lizard, I saw that I was the first of my friends to arrive, but the party was already in full swing. The Lizard had not had a crowd like this before our departure, for sure--something special was afoot. There were still several tables left that would provide us with a good view of the performance, so I snagged a likely spot and staked our claim. It was not long before Lord Rhogar arrived, and his intimidating dragonkin countenance was enough to discourage anyone from trying to move in on our table. We were quickly joined by the others, and we barely had time to order food and refreshments when the noise of the crowd informed our attention to the stage.
The innkeep was standing in the lights of the stage, and with a smile as wide as a wagon's track said, "My friends, it is with great pleasure, I announce the return of your favorite! Please show your appreciation for the bard, Selane!"
The tavern keeper briskly left stage right, and a beautiful, strikingly dressed, female gnome took the stage. With little ceremony or aplomb, she set down an instrument case in the front, center of the stage, and pausing for effect, began to play an elaborately carved flute carved in the likeness of a dragon. To say the music was otherworldly, or to describe it as inspired or transcendent would be trite, cheapening the experience. It sang of lost things and the parting of friends. There were hopeful beginnings, there were endings. Throughout it all, there was the telling of the weaving of a tapestry of experiences of life, strength, love, and perseverance. I was... moved.
At the completion of the song, her case rapidly filled with coin, and no small amount of my own appreciation. My friends, feeling the effects of the journey, and no small amount of ale, retired, save my stalwart halfling companion, Arryn. It was the first time I think I had been alone with him since we have met. Not by design, mind you, it is more that he has something of a presence about him that tends to consistently draw others in. We did not talk much, but it seemed the companionable silence of men who had shared hardships and come through, if not changed, at least unscathed.
Selane, recognizing us as adventurers, approached our table and greeted us. She shared with us her story, and it was like her song, tinged with loss. She had been like us, an adventurer, and in a gathering of friends who came to the jungles of Chult to find their fortune. The terrors of the jungle, one by one, took her companions until she was the last remaining member of the fellowship. I invited her to join our fellowship, but she demurred, explaining that her adventuring days were done. She left us with much of the same warnings we had been hearing since our arrival: the dangers of the jungle, the death that waits around every corner, but they seemed more heartfelt from Selane, less a matter of course.
Sobered, we turned in for the night, with the resolution to attend to the Nyanzaru's temple to Obtao in the moring. The night passed uneventfully, and as we gathered for breakfast, who was there to greet us, but our agent, Ju'tanfan. All smiles, was he, greeting each of us warmly and shaking our hands vigorously.
"Welcome back, welcome back! I did not ever doubt your return!" he effused, unconvincingly. "We must report to Jax as soon as can be. He awaits, yes?"
Finishing our breakfast with a haste that was sure to upset the digestion of a kobold, we withdrew to a side room, and some privacy. Ju'tanfan produced a mirror of some art, and holding it so that we viewed its glass, we rapidly saw our reflection dissolve into a swirling pattern that suddenly resolved itself into the face of our benefactor, Jax.
Giving our report, Jax was incredibly pleased, and he informed us that we had indeed completed all he had asked of us and more. The evidence we provided him, proving that the Host Tower mages were involved in the theft of the artifact of Obtao was nigh-irrefutable.
We had three more weeks to wait, however, before the ship containing the goods we awaited as payment arrived here in Nyanzaru. What to do? Three weeks is a long time to be idle, particularly for ones such as us—adventurers. I was particularly concerned about how this intermission would play on the sensibilities of our half-orc friend, Connor Stonehammer. He was one of those men, who if not occupied, would find his own trouble. A sturdy lad in a fight, Connor was, but around the civilized confines of town, he was the proverbial bugbear in the apothecary’s shop.
When we were done with our conference with Jax, and our agent had left for whatever other duties he had for the day, we began to talk at table about our plans while we waited for our ship to come in. I brought up the research I had done while in the Host Tower of the Arcane before our departure for Chult. While there were several leads that I had uncovered, I saw two that might interest the party. One was the investigation of the fabled goblin village of Yelyark, and the other, a journey far into the interior of the subcontinent, to the cursed city of M’bala. M’bala had been reduced to a ruin by a witch who was rumored to have eaten the populace one-by-one. I was sure this would entice the party. Riches, an ancient evil, a wrong to right, an evil sorceress—what wasn’t there to lure our hearts and ambitions?
First it was Eldred. He told us that his business required him to stay in Port Nyanzaru for those three weeks and would not be joining us in the jungle. Then, Osa spoke up, and her concern was that as dangerous as the challenges we faced on our last journey were, she was worried that the perils of a deeper trip into the jungle would be beyond our ability. We discussed at length, and I tried all the convincing arguments I could think of, but my friends would not be moved. Our fellowship was sundered, reduced to four: Connor Stonehammer, Paladin of Moradin, Lord Rhogar, dragonkin wielder of the two-handed scimitar, Arryn Hilley, the aforementioned halfling warlock, and me, Morgrim Calturne, erstwhile treasure hunter.
At a loss for what we would do without our full complement, I hired a boy to act as a crier. He was to run the city, advertising that there were adventurers for hire at the Thundering Lizard.
We four headed out to the temple of Obtao in an attempt to decipher the meaning of our haunting experiences at the jungle shrine. Connor, in particular, seemed troubled. Perhaps he was worried that his acceptance of the war hammer presented to him by the aspect of Obtao would be viewed as breaking faith with Moradim. When we arrived at the temple, it was immediately apparent that it had seen better days. Paint was peeling, murals faded. Birds had roosted in the rafters, nesting, and evidence of their residence stained the backs of the pews and windowsills. The glass that remained in the windows was smoke clouded and laced with cobwebs. Despite this disrepair, it was occupied. A lone worshiper and a priest were saying a goodbye.
[Insert the dialogue of their parting here, the Priest’s greeting to us, his revelations about the gifts, transformation of the doggos, and his disappearance]
With his prophecy, my mind went immediately to Merryl. Did it mean Merryl was coming here? Perhaps for all the dangers of the jungle and the undiscovered riches of the lost city of M’bala, there may be something that would warrant me returning without delay.
We returned to the Thundering Lizard, where we were met with the results of my impromptu advertising. A nobleman needed an escort, no details provided unless accepted. Pirate hunters were being sought by the city watch. A group was needed to gather magical ingredients from the surrounding lands.
The only one we really took seriously, as befitting a group of adventurers, was the prospect of hunting pirates. It sounded lucrative. It sounded dangerous. It sounded dashing. What couldn’t we do if we captured our own ship? The possibilities…
The priest, before his unsettling disappearance, had told us to seek Eku. We met with Eku, who when we told her we were resolved to go to M’bala and attempt to oust the witch offered her services as guide at no cost. Surely, she must have some tie to the events there to be so generous. Perhaps a loved one was victim to the witch? At any rate, her offer of provisioning and guidance was enough to make up our minds. We did not have much time. With only three weeks until the earliest expected arrival of our payment, we would be hard pressed to journey up the River Shoshenstar, travel overland to where M’bala was marked on my map, ascend its plateau and defeat the evil there before heading back.
It was then that we remembered Osa and Eldred. Our friends quickly agreed to wait for the ship in our absence, and assured us that if we had not returned by the time they had to leave Port Nyanzaru that they would make surety for our share of the spoils. Our fellowship was broken, but friendships are not so fragile things as that, and with their promises, we set out to replenish our supplies for the journey.