“We can be heroes” – DAVID BOWIE
- Vrae’ree Everhurden, 5th Level Drow Elf Wizard
- Fo, 5th Level Human Monk [Faction: Lord’s Alliance]
- Deiter. 5th Level Human Fighter [Neverwinter Noble]
- Tom Lightfoot, 5th Level Halfling Wizard
My Dungeonmaster voice is in red text. If you are one of my player’s please respond with comments on this post to earn some Inspiration points!
They were ambushed along the High Road. As Evil approached from the West, they made an unexpected discovery within the Karst Caves. They met a bandit called The Black Spider working for the Cult of the Dragon. Using espionage and deception, they discovered that stolen waters are sweet. Using the cult’s own resources against them, they teleported to the Halls of Justice to report their findings to the Alliance. However, they discovered that the city was under attack, and decided in a moment of panic to escape from Neverwinter. And now, having made a new resolution to help the people of the Sword Coast, they return to the city to find the Alliance safehouse which may hold city officials in need of rescue.
Vrae’Ree quickly swept his gaze across his companions, making momentary eye contact with each one. He had fought along side them all long enough to know what happens next, to know that this night would end with either their blood or the blood of their enemies staining the streets. “It ends tonight,” he quietly muttered. And then, building upon the magical energies he has practiced with since childhood, he turned his attention to the vile beasts in front of them and screamed in a thunderous voice, “Attack!”
Vrae’ree strode boldly forward, unleashing a Thunderwave spell at his enemies with a few arcane gestures. A wave of thunderous force swept out from the Drow Wizard with an audible booming sound. The Half-Dragon and all of the cultists cringed in pain as wave after wave of cosmic energy smashed into their bodies. The waves of force shoved them backwards, their boots dragging along the cobblestone street until colliding with the wooden safehouse walls. Only three stood in their original positions, but all of them remained dazed by the tremendous booming sound.
At that moment, a woman lurched out of the safehouse and pulled the two toddlers inside away from the battle. Both children were bawling and frightened, but basically unscathed. Neverember positioned himself in front of the doorway, stabbing another of the Cultists with his greatsword. He winced and clutched at his side with his free hand, realizing that his wound was still not fully mended.
Tom found a reliable hiding spot within the alley behind a large crate. He traced a symbol of protecting in the air and chanted the syllables that would place a Blade Ward upon Fo. He quickly did the same for Deiter, and then asserted his natural stealth to settle into a hiding spot from which he could effectively cast his magic during the mêlée.
Tom’s player declared that the Halfling would hide. He rolled a 27 with Tom’s +11 to Stealth!
Fo was faster than Deiter, but both of them charged at the three cultists closest to them. Fo led with his staff, hitting the cultist twice in the ribs before he could counter. As the cultist took a few steps backwards, the monk stepped to the side, delivering two more punches to the man’s midsection. The cultist cringed and groaned with each hit, but held his own. He swung his two sword swords in angled slashes. Fo continued with his momentum and side-stepped the attacks easily.
Deiter rushed the same cultist, swinging his twin battleaxes mightily. The cultist was forced to retreat with each swipe from the fighter. Although none of Deiter’s axes landed a hit, he had managed to put the enemy had on his heels. Deiter growled in frustration.
Deiter had four attacks. Bad dice rolls managed to equal four misses.
The other two Dragonclaws rushed forward, jabbing their blades at the fighter and the monk. Fo tried to evade but he felt the blades cut into his hip and belly. Deiter, too, suffered wounds from the expert cuts of the Dragonclaw cultists. These fanatical assassins were not to be toyed with. Their devotion and faith in Tiamat gave them exception abilities that served to enhanced their skill. Luckily, the Blade Ward protected them somewhat and lessened the severity of each kiss if the cultist’s blades.
Honestly, Blade Ward saved the day. It managed to cut a lot of damage from the cult of the dragon soldiers!
Sable grabbed Neverember by the throat and hefted him in the air. The man struggled, and then moaned in pain. Blood started to flow freely down his left hip. Apparently, the wound he had suffered had opened again. The Half-Dragon growled, and tossed Neverember into the door of the safehouse. As the man smashed to the planked floor, the creature leaned forward and breathed a spray of acid on Neverember. The man howled in pain, and suddenly the door slammed shut, closed by one of the other people inside.
“I’ll deal with you rodents in a moment,” he muttered and then turned his gaze on the Wizard, Monk, and Fighter. Then Sable, the Half-Dragon, was in the air. His wide bat-like wings blocked out what little light did filter down from the darkened sky. He landed next to Fo, brandishing an impossibly large sword in one hand and a shield emblazoned with the symbol of Tiamat in the other. The creature’s plate armor shimmered with a strange aura, hinting at a magical nature.
Fo and Sable entered a martial dance, lunging and sweeping. The Half-Dragon’s sword slashed sideways through the air, and Fo leaped above it gracefully. Turning the blade with a flick of the wrist, Sable brought the huge sword up and then down in a chopping motion that surely would have cut the monk in half if he had not ducked down and away to the left.
Pressed flat against the wooden crate, his robes tight around him, Tom watched the battle unfold. Four of the six Dragonclaws recovered from Vrea’ree’s spell, and stalked forward. Along with them came one of the Dragonwings. The other three cultists remained by the doorway of the safehouse. Tom could sense that something was amiss though. He sensed a shifting in The Weave of Magic in the immediate area. He had a gut feeling that someone was using magic to hide their presence. Invisibility, maybe. It was difficult to tell.
Vrae’ree felt the disturbance in the Weave as well. He had spent years in Menzoberranzan; he knew the feeling of magic in play. The way the hair on the back of your neck stood up and the way your stomach churned. It was all natural and primal instincts informing you that something unnatural was at work nearby. Humans sometimes called it intuition. He pushed the thoughts away from his mind, and focused on the situation at hand.
The Drow traced symbols in the air, invoking Magic Missiles. Tiny darts of energy shot out from his fingertips, striking at the Half-Dragon unerringly. Sable seemed hardly to notice, his attention on Fo and Deiter. Sable managed to block several of Deiter’s axe strikes with his shield, but suffered a blow to the upper thigh. As the Half-Dragon staggered to regain his footing, Fo was able to land several blows. It was obvious that Sable was wearing down, but he seemed to be weathering the injuries. Such was the nature of one with draconic blood.
And then the cultists surged forward. Three focused on Fo, and the others on Deiter. The Dragonwing leaped into the air, using its limited flight to land behind the Nobleman. Before Deiter could turn, the cultist stabbed him twice in the lower back and then leaped away. Fo fared no better. The fanatical cultists struck several times, opening wounds with each hit. Fo and Deiter both cringed and stumbled in pain, trying to keep up focus against their foes.
Vrae’ree glanced down, noticing something interesting on the ground. It looked like a small golden locket. He glanced back up, seeing a dark shape lunging at him. He tried to step aside from the oncoming monster, but Sable landed lightly next to him. The Drow raised his staff, preparing to fend off the Half-Dragon with what martial skills he had learned while in the Underdark.
The Half-Dragon leaped into the air, kicking the Drow’s staff to the cobblestone. His armor and shield glowed with the essence of the Nine Hells, glimmering like Hellfire. The huge sword struck once, twice, and a third time. As Sable launched himself into the air again, the Drow wizard tumbled to the cobblestone, writhing and dying.
Vrae’ree was reduced to 0 hit points but successfully made his Death Saving Throw the next round.
Tom watched the Drow go down, and knew that the Humans were not faring well being so greatly outnumbered by skills villians. He traced a few symbols in the air in front of him, and whispered the words of a Fireball spell. He waited for a moment until Sable landed in the middle of the melee again, and then pointed his finger directly at the murderous Half-Dragon. A bright streak flashed from the Halfing’s pointed finger to Sable, blossoming into an explosion of flame that filled a 20 foot radius. He manipulated the raw arcane energy of the Weave in such as way as to injure his enemies but leave his friends unaffected. The cultists flailed about, screaming and staggering around the area. Sable moaned in pain, falling to one knee.
Unknown to the players, Sable was at half hit points at this point.
From the side of the building, out came two men. Both had been concealed by a spell of invisibility but it had been disrupted by the effects of the Fireball. They staggered out, jerking wildly, burned by the sudden explosion of arcane fire. The first one was a dwarf wearing fine clothing and a cape of deep green. The other was a tall man wearing black armor much like those of the cultists. He was a Cambion, the spawn of a union between Humans and Devils.
There was a Cambion on the roof watching the combat, and a Dwarf assassin sneaking around waiting for the perfect chance to strike. Both were hit by the fireball though and so I decided that the Cambion’s spell of Invisibility dropped at that moment.
Deiter and Fo wasted no time taking advantage of the stunning effects of the Fireball. Deiter rushed Sable again, as Fo came up fast, launching a series of attacks against the closest cultist. The monk landed softly on the cobblestone, striking out with his staff, hands, and feet in a rhythm, manipulating the Ki around him. Deiter held on battleaxe in each hand, sweeping them in and out with a practiced pattern. Sable deflected half of the attacks, and cried out in pain as the other struck home.
But there is strength in numbers. The cultists continued their onslaught. They were fanatical in their movements, willing to sacrafice themselves for their Dragon Queen. Fo felt a downward slice on his left leg, forcing him to recoil and sweep out wide, avoiding a second slash. He rolled backwards, coming up fast to his feet only to be stabbed twice more by the blades of the cultists. Although he was protected by Tom’s Blade Ward, it was simply too much. Fire shot through his gut as a blade bit deep, sending him staggering backwards into another piercing attack to his back shoulder. He reeled again, feeling an elbow rattle off the side of his head, sending him staggering back to fall dying on the cobblestone.
Fo dropped to 0 hit points, but made his Death Saving Throw the following round.
Deiter glanced around at the throng of enemies around him. He was wheezing and fighting for breat, with one hand pressed against his torn side. He knew the cultists would not relent. With great effort, he picked up his battleaxe and stepped forward. Holding one weapon in each hand, he gritted his teeth and shouted for them to come at him. He might die today, but he’d take as many of the bastards with him as he could before he fell.
The nobleman fighter felt the bite of a sword on one leg, and he swiped his axe to the side hoping to ward off the attacker. There were so many of them, a wall of black oiled leather armor, swords, and fluttering capes. He swiped out again with his other axe, and then grimaced as he felt another blade pierce his gut.
He bulled ahead, lowering his head and driving forward. The cultists reacted as he thought, falling and leaping away to strike at his flanks. But the effort was not enough. The lieutenant of the cultists, a Dragonwing, landed lightly next to him, driving two longswords into the man’s back. Deiter tried to push on forward, but his legs buckled under him and he hit the ground hard. He lay there, blood gushing from his wounds, dying.
Deiter was reduced to 0 hit points. His player managed to successfully make the Death Saving throw the next round.
Tom watched from his hiding place while the cultists regrouped and gathered near their leader, Sable. There was a moment of snickering and laughter among the villains. A few clapped each other on the back. Finally, Sable declared that they should bar the doors and windows of the safehouse.
“We’ll burn you alive, Neverember,” shouted Sable. “You can burn with your precious citizens.” The Half-Dragon watched as the cultists began to follow his orders, using rubble and broken timbers to bar the doors and windows. Sable looked around, and then nodded to a number of his men. “You will follow me to the front gates. We shall check on how things proceed for Cyanwrath.” With that, Sable and several of the cultists launched themselves in the darkened sky, fluttering on bat wings to the front gates of Neverwinter.
At that moment, Tom realized that the Dwarf was gone. He had slipped away leaving the Cambion and six cultists to finish the job of burning the safehouse. The Halfing creeped forward from his hiding place, pulling out some acacia gum from his belt pouch. He plucked out an eyelash, pressed it into the gum, and began to roll it into a ball between his thumb and forefinger. After whispering a few words of magic, he faded from view and became invisible.
He moved forward, keeping his eyes on the cultists. Carefully, he moved to each of his comrades and touched them. One by one, they joined him in his Invisiblity spell. Then, Tom removed several small vials from his belt pouch and poured them into the mouths of his fallen friends. The healing potions smelled of burdock and cinnamon, and worked quickly to bring the fallen back for death’s door. As each of them recovered, Tom whispered in explanation of what was happening.
Within a few moments, they were all up on their feet but hardly fit for combat.
Most of the playing characters has less than 10 hit points each.
“We should retreat, and return later.” stated Deiter.
I’m fairly certain that I remember Deiter only had 1 hit point. Maybe 2.
“And leave the people in the safehouse to die,” whispered Tom. “I think not!” The Halfling smiled with determination, and gestured. “Follow me.”
Tom’s plan was clever. While the cultists were occupied in the front of the safehouse, he led the others around the back to a large window. using a small crowbar to pry open the window, whispering into the building that he was a friend and that they should hurry to escape through the window. Although some of the citizens hesitated, Tom explained that there was no time and that magic was at work here
The two Mintarn guards who were tending to Lord Neverember helped the children and women out the window. As the last citizen was outside, one of the Mintarn guards helped to get Neverember to his feet. The man was obviously suffering from grevious wounds and would soon fall unconscious. The effects of the Half-Dragon’s acid spray were obvious on his armor, as well as, his flesh.
“Leave me,” mumbled Neverember. “They are after me alone. They will not pursue you.”
The Mintarn soldiers shook their heads. “Ain’t leaving the King here to die,” said the first. And the seoncd nodded, saying “Swore to protect you with our lives, we did. And we will. Now come on.”
Tom manipulated the Wave of Magic again, allowing himself to be revealed to the three men. “Sirs, my name is Tom Lightfoot. I am an entertainer of great renown and I am sure you have heard of me.” The Halfing smiled widely but did not allow the three men to reply. “First, here is a healing potion for our Lord. Second, perhaps one of you could prove your loyalty to your oath by providing us with a distraction while we lead the others away from here.”
Tom’s player used a Persuasion roll to inspire the soldier to make a distraction for them. The players all chimed in with ideas. It was some good teamwork from the players as a whole.
The second guard nodded, giving the healing potion over to the first. While he fed Neverember the healing potion, the other took their Lord’s purple cloak from his armor. Neverember sighed heavily, closing his eyes as the tonic flowed through him, mending a small amount of his wounds.
“What are you doing,” asked the first guard. “Taking his cloak?”
“Yeah, I am.” muttered the other one. “You nevermind what I’m doin’ and get the King out of here.”
“Not the King,” muttered Neverember weakly. “Lord Protector.”
“Brillant,” commented Tom. He gestured for the guard to help Neverember through the window. The he backed away becoming invisible again, allowing Fo and Deiter to get closer to the window to be of assistance. Slowly, Neverember was able to make his way through the window.
“Three approaching,” whispered Vrae’ree from the corner of the safehouse.
The last man out of the safehouse was the older Mintarn soldier, now draped in the bright purple cloak of Lord Neverember. He gestured to the other soldier and Neverember, mainly because the others were all invisible. “Take them along the De Bie corridoor, straight to Castle Never.”
The other man sputtered. “Castle Never?”
The older soldier nodded. “That’s the final fallback point. The Halls aren’t secure. You know as well as I do that any and all citizens that could squeeze into that old keep are taking refuge there, ghosts or not.” The older man thumped his finger into the toher’s breastplate a few times. “So gets them there. And keep your head down.”
With that, the soldier turned and rushed down the road away from the safehouse. He made sure to stomp his boots heavily on the cobblestone, and let out a cry of “For Neverwinter!” as he ran. The purlpe cloak flapped in the air behind him.
The distraction was successful. The Cambion and three of the cultists saw the Mintarn soldier runing away and assumed it was Lord Neverember making an escape. They gave chase immeadiately while the remaining soldier helped to lead Neverember and the others away towards Castle Never.
As the three remaining Dragonclaw cultists rounded the corner, the Company ambushed them. First, Tom directed another Fireball to explode centered on the middle cultists, jarring them and sending them recoiling to their backs. They laid there for a moment, jerking widly. As they started to gather their wits about them, Fo charged forward, his hands and feet working furiously in a series of strikes. Two of the cultists went down hard, leaving only one to struggle to his feet.
Deiter was already rushing forward, his twin battleaxes cutting through the air this way and that. launching into several short chops at the cultist. The dark-clad man was able to fend off several of Deiter’s attacks with sweeping parries of his short sword, turning the axes away. But in the end, the nobleman scored a hit , causing the dragon cultists to stumble backwards.
Dieter hit twice, reducing the cultist to a single, annoying hit point!
At that moment, Vrae’ree unleashed another Magic Missile spell, shooting the small glowing darts out to strike the cultists solidly in the chest. As they erupted one by one , he continued to stumble backwards, and crashed heavily to the ground.
Good move by Vrae’ree’s player. Magic Missiles don’t miss and they definately do at least 1 hit point of damage!
The battle was finally over.
Vrae’ree looked around at his companions with a smile. “Now to Castle Never.”