Sleeping on Splinters

Mid Uktar...
 
Our time in Waterdeep was fleeting. Strangely I feel as though this has been the greatest disappointment throughout the bizarre set of circumstances and events to have transpired since I began traveling with these new companions.
 
I recall passing through Waterdeep briefly during my journey south to Greenest. During that first trip, the City was on high alert from some recent event-the nature of which I was unable to ascertain at the time-and anytime someone caught a glimpse of my skin the best I could hope for was a nervous avoidance. From everything I had heard about Waterdeep this reaction was very atypical, but it was the reality at the time. As a result, I did not spend a great deal of time here during that trip. I had wanted to. I had wanted to stroll the streets and see the marvelous craft of the great artisans I’d heard about. I was also quite keen on the idea of experiencing the pleasures wrought by the famous cooking competitions held here, which naturally came with exquisite wines. I wanted to take in evenings watching sunsets over the Sea of Swords, and sample wines from all over the Sword Coast. I had even pondered the possibility of running across other Shadar kai who, like me, had left the service of the Raven Queen in search of something better. Perhaps had I stayed longer the nervous energy the city portrayed would have abated and I could have explored the City of Splendors more. I was really looking forward to that opportunity this time around. Alas, it was not meant to be.
 
Not even half a day here, we left as dusk was settling over the glimmering waters of the sea. The cultists were dead set on pushing north without even spending the night, and so we too planned to follow. We had just enough time to speak to some contacts and visit a local shop friendly to the Harpers. With the optimistic hope I would get to return within the season, I put a deposit down to hold a magical sword of interest to me that they currently did not have. In some ways this may have been just as well – chances are I did not have the funds at present to purchase it anyway. With any luck, by the time I return I will have a great deal more to spend. I wonder if I should have also tried to commission a blacksmith to make me some adamantine armor as well. Though, I suppose there was not time for that – we moved so quickly to get out of the city.
 
As it turned out, through information gathered from a Harper contact, as well as through the Zhentarim agent Jamna, we felt confident that the cultists would stop at the Carnath Road House. Rather than try to join this caravan, or shadow them, we pushed on even faster to arrive at their destination before they did. I certainly understood everyone’s concern about continuing to pose as guards to yet another caravan the cultists were a part of, but I had real concerns about losing track of them. Fortunately my fears were unfounded, though I would not know this until we reached our destination.
 
The mad dash north was largely uneventful save one truly unbelievable encounter with a troll and a cleric of Tymora. We had stopped briefly by the roadside for a quick break for the horses when Rhumor heard cries of help from up the hill and in the woods. Wary of what might be a bandit’s ruse to attack we went in. As we reached a small clearing a cleric, badly wounded, came stumbling through. He was being chased by an enormous troll. Hideous creatures trolls. We were able to make fairly quick work of the troll, though its powerful claws and bite did take a serious toll on poor Grok. After the troll was dispatched, and Andor (Conrad’s fire spirit) had completely torched the repulsive creature into nothing more than ash, the cleric began asking us questions. Rhumor told him that an elvish woman, finely dressed, had beckoned him to aid the cleric. This was news to all of us – none of the rest of us had seen a woman. The cleric nearly lost his mind then, claiming that Tymora herself had visited Rhumor, and that the strange parcel the cleric was running with was meant for Rhumor. Inside was a fine, and ancient looking, Elvish longbow – covered in magical script and runes. It may be some time before we get to have it properly examined, but it does appear to be an exquisite piece of work. The cleric then bade us to visit him in the Tower of Luck next time we were in Waterdeep.
 
The Roadhouse was unlike anything we were expecting. A single structure, it was little more than a warehouse with a kitchen and some sleeping rooms. I really had no idea how to proceed. My flock of familiars had already scouted nearly the entire building when Nuri and Conrad decided to go in and try and get lodging to do additional investigation. Conrad and Nuri were able to confirm the cultists would be coming through here – the half orc in charge of the warehouse had a dragon cult sword – it could be no coincidence.
 
Amazingly, Conrad was the one to find out directly from the half orc that an old castle was nearby, named Nayemer. The same castle was named in documents we found in the cultists’ cave near Greenest. This was their final destination. Of course, at this point we just knew that the castle was somewhat near, but not exactly where. Later that night they helped Rhumor sneak in. Rhumor was after a particular key that apparently was the price of admittance for joining the Zhentarim. I am unsure how I feel about that. I’d heard a great deal about the Zhentarim of course, but until meeting Jamna I had never run across any of them. They steered well clear of Luskan out of fear of incurring the wrath of Bregan D’aerthe. What I did know of them was they were, in fact, one of the few factions along the Sword Coast the drow had any real respect for, which said volumes about their efficacy and skill. They also were said to have a reputation for being cruel, if not downright evil. Come to think of it, how strange is it that a cleric of Tymora would appear to Rhumor at this time? I wonder what the clever elf makes of that conundrum!
 
Successfully pilfering the key from the half-orc, Rhumor was also able to get into the one room my spiders had not been in. Inside was a trap door with a tunnel beneath. We decided to try the tunnel. Just before we could enter though, a bunch of lizardmen jumped out of it! We fought off those in the warehouse, and quickly ran into the tunnel, only to find more them waiting outside the tunnel exit, above ground. I teleported myself up and behind them as a distraction so everyone else could leave the tunnel. It worked, but I paid a price in pain as they teamed up against me. Grok rushed out so fast that he too suffered from too many enemies attacking all at once. This was most fortuitous for me though, as I am uncertain I would have survived an onslaught from the six that were now split between the two of us. During these fights Nuri displayed the power of her bloodline expertly sending deadly lighting bolts that must have killed nearly a dozen lizardmen. Conrad was able to send Andor in to extract Grok from his predicament just in time for Nuri to blast most of his assailants into a neat little row of corpses.
 
As we took stock of our situation, realizing we were a fair distance from the Roadhouse, with no discernible path back, a clearly discernible path forward, and likely a fully awakened guard back at the Roadhouse, we decided to hide ourselves nearby and get some much needed sleep. Here, in this dismal swamp. Not a tenday ago I’d hoped to be enjoying the City of Splendors, and instead I’m sleeping on splinters.