Session 24

The Succulent Juices, with nine children in tow, appeared within the teleportation circle Ebyn had installed in the basement of his apartment. Once everyone had arrived, the young wizard took a blade and began to deface the runes in the circle.

“What are you doing?” Xalen said.

“Just making sure we can’t be followed,” Ebyn explained. “There’s no telling how long before Kas returns to Tovag, or Deurant loses control of the nexus. If that man gets captured, they might torture the rune configuration from him and come after us. I cannot allow that.”

“Good thinking,” Xalen said. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

It was mid-morning in Neverwinter. Weariness clung to them like a second skin, yet duty still pressed upon their shoulders, denying them the rest they craved.

Xalen withdrew a heavy purse of gold from the party’s spoils and announced that he would take both the coin and the rescued children to one of Neverwinter’s more reputable orphanages. With his departure, the others seized the chance for a brief respite. Brabara and Seknafret returned to their homes, eager to wash away the grime of what felt like endless weeks on the road.

Ebyn, meanwhile, cleansed himself and stepped into his library. Hard to believe that this paltry chamber had once filled him with pride. Now, having witnessed the grandeur of Alustriel’s sanctuary and even the sinister collection within the Death House, his own meagre shelves seemed pitiful. The quest had drained him of joy, leaving only bitterness. He locked the door behind him and wandered into the courtyard shared by the four apartments.

There, an envelope awaited. Its heavy paper, elegant calligraphy, and wax seal bearing Lord Neverember’s crest commanded immediate attention. Ebyn’s paranoia stirred; he raised his eyeglass, scrutinizing every detail for hidden danger. Convinced of its authenticity, he set it upon the ground and summoned a mage hand to break the seal.

Nothing exploded.

The hand removed a thick square of embossed card, its ornate script gleaming in the morning light. Ebyn took the card from his magical hand and started reading.

“What’s that?” Brabara said, coming out of her apartment looking much refreshed after a short rest.

“It appears we’ve all been invited to Lord Neverember’s Midwinter Ball,” Ebyn said, returning the card to the envelope and tossing it away. “It’s a shame we won’t be able to attend.”

“Why is that?” Brabara said, and she stooped down to pick the envelope back up. “Have we missed it?”

Ebyn rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Surely you haven’t forgotten the mission. Even if the date hasn’t passed, we have far more pressing concerns than some ridiculous ball.”

It was then that Xalen returned from dropping off the children.

“How did you go?” Brabara asked.

“Good,” Xalen said. “I was very clear about the importance of taking good care of the children and I impressed upon them what might happen should I learn otherwise.” He smiled. “What’s that?”

“Invitation to Lord Neverember’s Midwinter Ball,” Brabara said. “But apparently we won’t be able to attend.”

“We haven’t missed it,” Xalen said. “Midwinter is tomorrow night.”

Seknafret emerged from her apartment, a towel wrapped around her thick curls. “Missed what?”

“Lord Neverember’s Midwinter Ball,” Brabara said holding the invitation out for Seknafret to take. “It’s tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Seknafret scanned the details on the card. “It says a carriage will be here to pick us up just before sunset.”

“We don’t have time for such nonsense!” Ebyn’s voice rang louder than he intended. He jabbed a finger at the invitation as though it carried a curse. “The multiverse itself hangs by a thread!”

Xalen raised a hand and waggled his fingers like a talking mouth. “What a shock,” he drawled. “Ebyn doesn’t think we should go.”

Ebyn’s glare could have curdled milk. “Of course we shouldn’t! I propose we send our apologies, skip the frivolities, and depart immediately for somewhere else! Anywhere else! The Rift of Unending Peril in Acheron! The Abyssal Caverns of Eternal Dread in, well, the Abyss! These places demand our attention far more urgently than this… distraction.” His eyes flicked nervously between his companions, searching for support.

Seknafret, Brabara, and Xalen exchanged knowing looks. Seknafret tapped her chin, Brabara’s lips curved into a broad smile, and Xalen outright snorted.

“Sure, Ebyn,” Brabara said, fighting laughter. “The fate of the multiverse. Again. Very convincing.”

“Exactly!” Ebyn exclaimed, nodding furiously. “At least one of you understands the gravity of this situation!”

“Right,” Xalen smirked. “And this has nothing to do with your inability to handle small talk or figure out which fork to use?”

“That is an outrageous accusation!” Ebyn blustered, his ears burning crimson. “This is about existential stakes, not… idle mingling!” He tugged at his robe, muttering under his breath. “Or… dancing, or saying the wrong thing, or… tripping over my own feet… having nothing suitable to wear…”

“Uh-huh,” Seknafret said, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched. “Caverns of Eternal Dread. Totally not about avoiding eye contact for an entire evening.”

“I’m being serious!” Ebyn’s voice cracked, his wide eyes darting desperately for validation.

Xalen burst out laughing, clapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “Relax, Ebyn. Brabara will teach you to dance.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Brabara chimed in with a wicked grin. “And who knows? If you play your cards right, you might even get some… extra attention before the night’s over.”

Ebyn’s face turned so red it was a wonder he didn’t combust on the spot. “I – what – no! That’s not – stop saying things like that!” he sputtered, retreating several steps. “This is about saving the multiverse, not… whatever that is!”

“Sure it is,” Brabara teased, winking. Xalen doubled over with laughter, and even Seknafret couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about we make a deal,” Brabara said once their laughter subsided. “Use the sending stone to contact the wizards. If they say we should return, we return. If not, we’re going to Lord Neverember’s ball.”

Ebyn mulled it over, then smiled faintly. “Fine. I agree to let them decide.” He was certain Alustriel and Mordenkainen would never condone such frivolity.

He withdrew the sending stone and spoke into it. “Mordenkainen, we are in Neverwinter and seek a way back to the sanctuary.”

Silence. Ebyn waited, then repeated the message.

“Do you have the rod piece?” Mordenkainen’s gruff voice finally rumbled from the stone.

“And hello to you too,” Xalen muttered.

Ebyn shot him a glare. “We have it, and we need you to open the portal so we can return to Sigil and resume our quest.”

“Hold,” came the curt reply.

Minutes passed before Mordenkainen spoke again. “The earliest we can open the portal is after dawn, two days hence.”

Brabara grinned. “Ha! Suck it, Ebyn. We’re going to that ball.”

“You’re going where?” Mordenkainen asked.

“Lord Neverember has invited us to the midwinter ball,” Brabara said sweetly. “Any chance you can send Tiny here to escort me?”

“The earliest we can open the portal is dawn in two days,” Mordenkainen repeated flatly. “You’ll have to find someone else to hang from your arm.”

Brabara smirked at Ebyn. “I think I can manage that.”

“I will contact you with the details when ready,” Mordenkainen said, his tone brooking no argument.

Brabara’s eyes never left Ebyn. “Looks like we’re going shopping.”

The colour drained from Ebyn’s face. “Um, no. You can do what you like, but I am staying right here.”

Brabara chuckled. “Fine. I’ll buy you something nice. Seknafret?”

Seknafret shook her head. “I should have something suitable already.”

“I’ll go,” Xalen said cheerfully. “It’s nice to have something fun to look forward to.”

Ebyn regarded the rogue with genuine bewilderment. “You honestly find the prospect of attending this ball fun?”

Xalen shrugged. “Sure. Free food, free drink, and all Neverwinter’s high and mighty dressed to the nines. I bet there’ll be more than one beauty in the crowd. What’s not to like?”

Ebyn shook his head. “I’ll be in my apartment if anyone needs me.”

Brabara laughed as the young mage stalked off. “That boy really needs to lighten up.”

---

With Xalen and Brabara off shopping and Seknafret in her apartment selecting an outfit, Ebyn was left alone – probably for the first time in months – and he found that he was no longer accustomed to it. What he would normally have seen as a sanctuary, a time where he could focus on his research now, left him feeling lonely.

He needed something to focus on, a problem that would engage his faculties until they could all once again devote themselves to the more important task of saving the multiverse.

The cursed sword!

A way to rid themselves of the blade and ensure nobody else could find it. That would do for a problem that needed solving, at least until the others returned from shopping.

Ebyn turned the issue over in his mind – looking at the problem of the sword from various angles – before he landed on an approach that satisfied him. Confident that he knew what needed to be done he went over to Seknafret’s apartment and knocked on the door.

“I need your help with getting rid of that cursed sword,” he said when she opened the door.

Seknafret blinked, like she’d just woken up from a nap. “You mean now?” she said, yawning.

Ebyn nodded. “Best do it before Brabara and Xalen get back. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Seknafret stepped aside to let Ebyn pass. “What do you need me to do?”

Ebyn sat down on the floor of her lounge room and started to arrange components in preparation for a ritual. “If you could bring the portable hole with the sword in it and place it down over there. I should be able to do the rest.”

“The rest of what?” she asked.

“I plan to use an unseen servant to retrieve the sword and place it into this sack,” Ebyn began. “Then I’ll have Hoot grip the sack and then use plane shift to send it, and the sword, to the elemental plane of water.”

Seknafret considered that for a moment. “Won’t that kill your familiar?”

Ebyn nodded. “Sure, but I can just summon it back afterwards.”

“It’s a good plan.”

Ebyn beamed. “Thank you.”

Seknafret stood vigil while Ebyn weaved his magic, and after ten minutes Hoot, along with his cursed cargo, disappeared with a pop.

Ebyn allowed himself a moment to reflect on his familiar’s sacrifice before he collected his accoutrements and rose. “I can summon him back in my room,” he said and moved through the door. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Brabara and Xalen returned just as the sun was setting, their arms full of the fruits from their shopping adventure.

“It turns out buying clothes for the midwinter ball the day before its scheduled is harder than I expected,” Brabara said as she placed several bags down on the ground. “All the places I used to go for clothes had nothing even approaching good enough and all the high-end places had been cleaned out weeks ago.”

“So, what’s all this then?” Seknafret said indicating the many bags.

“Options,” Brabara explained. “Some better than others and some needing adjustment.”

“And you, Xalen?” Seknafret pointed at the bags he carried. “Are these all options for you?”

Xalen chuckled. “Only one of these bags is mine,” he said, setting the load down next to Brabara. “Most of this stuff is hers. But I did find a suit that should suffice, and we got something for Ebyn as well.”

With a mischievous grin, Brabara reached into one of her bags and pulled out a gaudy wizard’s robe embroidered with oversized silver stars, complete with a tall, floppy, pointy hat. She held it up triumphantly.

Ebyn’s eyes widened in horror. “There is absolutely no way I am wearing that,” he declared, his voice sharp with indignation.

Brabara and Xalen burst into laughter. “Relax,” Brabara said between chuckles. “We’re joking.”

Xalen smirked and added, “I picked up a second suit like mine for you. You’ll look fine.”

Seknafret eyed the many bags with suspicion. “I feel like tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

Brabara nodded. “I have but one goal,” she said – a faraway look in her eye. “I will look beautiful.”

The group went to sleep early that night. They knew they had a late night ahead of them and they were all exhausted from their time in the Dread Realms of Barovia and Tovag. They all fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit their pillows.

The nightmare came upon them like a storm. Shadows coiled, and in the darkness a figure rose – Vecna, crowned in ruin, his eye burning with hunger unending.

He had ascended to become a god yet found no peace. His ambition stretched further, reaching to eclipse all gods, to stand alone as the sole divinity of Oerth.

Time unravelled in the vision. Years collapsed into moments, and they saw him bent over forbidden tomes, his keen mind teasing secrets from the workings of mortal faith. Threads of silver shimmered in the void – delicate strands binding worshipers to their god. With a gesture, Vecna severed them. Each cut a wound upon the divine, small yet inexorable, a slow bleeding of power.

The dream shifted again. Holy symbols, thousands upon thousands, glowed faintly with corruption. They spread like a plague across the Flannaess, carried by unseen hands. The faithful prayed, but their worship went into the void.

Clerics, paladins, common folk – all stood powerless, abandoned, their devotion hollowed out by Vecna’s ambition. Their gods weakened by his manipulation.

Then came the stirrings of resistance. The gods themselves raged, and from their fury champions were chosen. Mordenkainen, and others of terrible renown, called to hunt Vecna down.

The vision darkened. The champions stood before Vecna, and the clash shook the world. Steel rang, spells blazed, cries echoed – but their power proved insufficient. Their strength faltered. They could not destroy him, succeeding only in driving him away. Vecna fled, but his shadow lingered, vast and watching, his ambition burning brighter still.

The dream ended, leaving only dread, as though Vecna’s gaze clung to them in waking.

---

Soon after breakfast, Xalen heard a persistent ringing coming from the courtyard gate.

He went outside to investigate and saw a thin, impeccably dressed man standing by the iron gate ringing the bell impatiently. The man waved Xalen over as soon as he saw him.

“Are you, Xalen?” the man enquired.

Xalen nodded. “And you are?”

“My name is Roger Tailor, Chief outfitter to Lord Neverember,” the man said with an elaborate bow. “I trust, Brabara, Ebyn, and Seknafret are all in residence this morning?”

Xalen raised an eyebrow. “What is this about?”

“Lord Neverember’s midwinter ball is this evening,” Roger said matter-of-factly. “I have been sent with instructions to make sure that you all have something suitable to wear.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Xalen explained. “We managed to purchase something for ourselves yesterday.”

“I’m afraid that is irrelevant,” Roger said. “It would not do for the Lord’s esteemed ‘Heroes of Neverwinter’ to arrive in anything but the highest quality fashion, and I very much doubt your recent purchases would qualify as such. Now if you don’t mind, would you please admit me and my team so we can get to work.”

Xalen looked past the garment maker and saw that he had arrived with a significant entourage. Two covered wagons, one filled with clothing materials, the other with dressmaking and tailoring equipment, plus at least a dozen assistants.

Xalen swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry, and opened the gate. “Of course, please, do come in.”

The morning and afternoon were a blur of fittings, measurements, adjustments and constant noise. Roger had taken a guess at the group’s sizes based on a description from Lord Chamberlain Foskar, and he and his team had spent the last few weeks crafting their outfits with today being spent making final adjustments.

Ebyn proved to be Roger’s favourite subject – offering no opinion and agreeing to everything – no doubt with a view to having the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible. Brabara, on the other hand, proved Roger’s greatest challenge. She inserted herself into every step of the process, making demands over cloth, colour, even down to choice of thread on some occasions.

Despite Brabara’s unwanted and unnecessary assistance, Roger and his team took it all in their stride, working with complete professionalism and great skill. Just as the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon the four Heroes of Neverwinter were ready. Hair, make-up, and of course, magnificent attire all made to measure and as comfortable as it was beautiful. Then – as quickly and efficiently as they had worked all day, Roger and his team packed up their gear, reloaded their wagons and drove off leaving only a single elegantly designed calling card behind.

“I look… beautiful,” Brabara announced twirling with girlish delight as she viewed her reflection in a mirror.

“Our ride is here,” Xalen called out as two ornate carriages each with the crest of Neverwinter on the door pulled up outside the courtyard gate.

Ebyn stepped out of his apartment, his backpack and component pouches strapped over his custom-made suit. He carried his wand of magic missiles in his hand. “I’m not sure where this is supposed to go?” he said holding the wand up.

“What are you doing with all that?” Brabara said.

Ebyn looked at her. “We’re going to the ball, so I’m taking my stuff.”

“You are most definitely not going to be taking your stuff,” Brabara said. “Do you see anyone else equipped for a dungeon crawl?”

“Well,” Xalen admitted. “I do have a knife or two hidden on me.”

Brabara rolled her eyes. “We have been invited as guests by our Lord and our employer, not as staff on hand to provide protection. There is no reason whatsoever for us to bring our stuff.”

“I am absolutely not going to leave my spellbook here unattended,” Ebyn said. “I just won’t.”

“You can put it in my portable hole,” Seknafret offered. “It will be safe there.”

“Ok,” Ebyn said removing his pack and fishing around for the book. “And the wand, and some components if that’s ok.” He handed the items to Seknafret.

Seknafret nodded and took Ebyn’s spellbook, wand, and component pouch.

“Right then” Ebyn said. “Let me just put my backpack in the apartment and then we can go.”