Session 3

In the year since the group first uncovered the strange cult beneath the ruins, they had grown in both experience and stature.

Lord Dagult Neverember labelled them the “Heroes of Neverwinter” for their role in protecting the city from the machinations of the Red Wizards; a powerful and evil sect of mages who sought to capture the city.

It was through their efforts that the goals of the Red Wizards were thwarted, thus earning them the Lord’s favour.

Their day-to-day duties with the city watch had mostly ceased since Dagult’s proclamation, and they were typically left to their own devices unless called upon for some specific or dangerous duty.

This left them with plenty of time to pursue their own interests.

---

Brabara spent her time helping Kevori figure out what Delvin had been investigating.

Still stung by the loss of her brother, Kevori and Brabara searched Delvin’s office at the watch house as well as the apartment he and Kevori shared.

A locked box, hidden beneath the floorboards of Delvin’s bedroom, gave them their first clue. Pages of notes, all written in Delvin’s precise handwriting, going back about six months prior to his death. The oldest being written around the time Brabara’s husband, Tiny, was sent to prison.

The box also contained a list of names. Second sons of prominent noble families who had joined the watch, and strangely all their appointments had been made by Captain Orville directly.

Another sheet held a list of dates and times along with copies of about a dozen daily booking sheets. The Night Watch always made more arrests than the day watch; alcohol, drugs, people angry after a bad day, it all made for an unruly populace and poor choices. Delvin’s Night Watch would log them and lock them up, and the next morning Kevori would clear them and let them go.

The logs Delvin had tucked into the box showed a mismatch between who was logged in at night and who was cleared the next morning. Kevori knew she always checked the cells to make sure they were empty; it was very rare for anyone to spend longer than one night in holding. So, if these logs were accurate, that meant that sometime in the night those people had been taken away.

“Why wouldn’t he involve you in any of this?” Brabara asked as they studied the notes.

Kevori shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he was trying to keep me safe, there are some powerful families named here.”

Brabara nodded. “Sure, but don’t you find it odd that he didn’t tell you anything at all?”

Kevori thought for a moment. “Not really, no. Delvin was always pretty closed off. I guess he didn’t want to kick a hornet’s nest until he had hard evidence to back him up.”

“Looks like he had plenty of evidence,” Brabara said, holding several pages high.

Kevori sighed. “He did, but nothing he could do anything with. Who would he go to? Captain Orville?”

Brabara nodded. “Fair point.”

Kevori stared at the notes, index finger tapping her chin. “Maybe that eye compass thing we found on his body might have been tangible enough for him to finally involve me.”

Brabara placed a hand on Kevori’s shoulder. “A loss like that will hurt for a while. I’ve lost people close to me too, and all I can say is, try not to let the anger consume you, like it did me.”

Kevori nodded.

“You and Delvin managed to get me out of a serious funk,” Brabara said after a brief silence. “Even though I kinda hated you for it at the time. You know, I don’t think I ever thanked you for what you did back then. So, thanks.”

Kevori chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

---

After finding Delvin’s notes, the pair settled on a plan to locate the missing prisoners.

It proved to be a dead end.

They questioned families, asked around taverns, even reached out to the thief’s guild with Xalen’s help, all to no avail. These twelve people were simply gone, not even a body had been found.

Next, Kevori cross-checked the dates they were taken with the names of whoever was on duty those nights, and the noble’s sons were working every time. It looked as though these entitled brats were using the watch to source people nobody would miss. Perhaps for use in some kind of foul ritual, like the one Brabara and the others had come upon beneath the ruins.

As soon as Kevori and Brabara had pieced this all together, they took their concerns to Lord Neverember. He perused the evidence, listened to Brabara explain what they found the night of Delvin’s death, and followed along intently as Kevori outlined their suspicions.

The next day, all the noble’s sons were purged from the watch, Captain Orville Dissain resigned his post, and Kevori was promoted to Captain in his place. The official reason given for his sudden retirement was urgent family matters.

In the months since then, no prisoners have gone missing, and, as far as everyone was concerned, the problem of “The Undying” had been handled.

Everyone, that is, except Ebyn. For him the matter rarely strayed from his mind.

---

Still plagued by his nightly visions, Ebyn scoured the available lore for any mention of Vecna. He found very little beyond a few paragraphs describing Vecna as an ancient lich from Oerth, whose scattered worshipers venerated a severed hand and eye. Apart from these scant mentions, little was known of this enigmatic being, which Ebyn now knew to be the true architect of whatever doom his visions foretold.

The one scholar who’d even heard the name Vecna was Umberto Noblin, an author local to Neverwinter who had published a book on the subject. The moment Ebyn learned of this book he purchased a copy and devoured the text.

His hope soon turned to disappointment. Umberto’s research had fewer primary sources than his own, and many of the so-called facts in the work proved to be little more than Umberto’s fanciful musings.

Ebyn’s nightly visions provided more detail than anything he could glean from Umberto’s writing. It proved a deeply sobering experience.

Ebyn’s research was at a frustrating impasse, and nothing he said to the others could convince them that what they’d all felt when that terrible one-eyed skull looked at them was anything but a momentary horror. He simply didn’t have the evidence to support his theory, nothing except an unwavering faith that he was right.

As such, he’d stopped sharing his lack of progress with the others, and they had stopped asking. It was a conscious ignorance on all their parts and, for now, that status quo remained something Ebyn was content to maintain.

---

Xalen sat in the salon of the botanist’s home twisting the large black feather between thumb and forefinger. “Barovia, you say? Never heard of the place.”

The botanist, Garthumb, nodded. “I am not surprised.”

He was a stocky halfling. Tall for one of his kind, with dark leathery skin that had seen plenty of sun. He wore a delicate looking pair of spectacles that often slipped low on his nose, leading Garthumb to absently push them up between sentences.

“So, where is it?” Xalen asked, then sucked a breath. “I won’t need to take a boat to reach it, will I?”

Garthumb chuckled. “No boat, I’m afraid, nor any kind of mount either. You see, its borders are not within this world of ours.”

“Not within…” Xalen trailed off. “Then where?”

Garthumb adjusted his glasses once more. “That is a more, um, complex question. The realm of Barovia is one of the so-called Dread Realms. Regions controlled by the Dark Powers, who keep them separate from this sphere of existence by a thick mist.”

“Okay,” Xalen said. “So how did this feather end up here?”

“Occasionally the mists will touch our world, allowing travellers to exit, or to capture the unwary.”

Xalen frowned. “To what purpose?”

Garthumb raised his arms and shrugged. “That I dare not even guess at. But I can assure you that the feather you hold belongs to a raven that is native to just one place.”

“Barovia,” Xalen said.

“Barovia,” Garthumb echoed.

“And what if I wanted to find a way into Barovia?”

Garthumb sucked a sudden breath. “Whatever for, my boy. By all accounts it is a joyless place ruled by a vampire who likes nothing more than to toy with his subjects.”

Xalen scoffed. “You seem to know a lot about a place you claim not to know much about.”

Garthumb chuckled. “Legends, rumours, bard’s tales. At my age you pick up a thing or two if you’re curious enough to pay attention.”

“Right then,” Xalen said. He carefully tucked the feather back under his jacket and got to his feet. “Thank you for the information, Garthumb.”

The old halfling peered at Xalen over his spectacles. “Be careful, young elf. Some questions, particularly those involving Barovia, might best be left unanswered.”

Xalen left the botanists home in the Protector’s Enclave and wandered the familiar city streets without a destination in mind. Garthumb’s research had given him a place where he might get more answers, but it seemed to be a place he could never get to on his own.

The thought of asking Ebyn crossed his mind, but he dismissed the idea. Ebyn’s only focus was chasing ghosts, and even if he were inclined to help, he’d no doubt force Xalen to listen to another of his prophecies of doom.

No. This was his quest, and for now he’ll pursue this on his own.

He needed to talk to his father.

Slippery Pete claimed to have found Xalen in the wreckage of a caravan raided by orcs. A story that Xalen had taken at face value for his entire life, but now that story sounded just a bit less like the truth.

---

Seknafret continued to hunt for those responsible for the terrible attack that resulted in the violent deaths of her retinue and forced her into hiding.

She had little to show for her efforts. Such crimes were rare in Neverwinter, and the City Watch were not empowered to pursue detective work. Of the man with the purple birthmark on his face she’d found nothing, but with Kevori’s help, Seknafret had managed to turn up a name.

Bralen Root.

She shared what little she’d found with her companions and Xalen told her he knew the name. Bralen Root was what the thief’s guild referred to as “a fixer”. Someone who is called upon to make problems disappear. Be that greasing the right palm to gain entrance somewhere, or to hire a bunch of thugs to send a message. Bralen Root was the man.

Xalen approached the guild to arrange a meeting, and finally his contact there had gotten back to him with a frustrating answer.

“The guild said what?” Seknafret asked, still not sure she’d heard Xalen correctly.

Xalen sighed. “They refuse to share his location. This guy is important enough that the guild doesn’t want us poking around his business.”

Seknafret made a fist and punched the table hard. “I only want to talk to him. I know he’s just the middleman, but he might know who ordered the attack.”

Xalen looked at Seknafret wryly. “Come on Sekna, even you understand that’s not something a person in his position is ever going to give up easily. You either come with more gold than the original client or you come ready to shed blood.”

“Of course I know,” she said, throwing up her hands. “It’s just frustrating to be this close only to be blocked by something as banal as the honour among thieves.”

Xalen shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I’d tell you where to find him if I knew. I’ve been on the wrong side of one of Bralen’s so-called ‘fixes’ before. I’d have no problem seeing him behind bars, or,” and he leaned in close, “put in the ground.”

Seknafret let out a long breath. “Well, at least you tried. Thank you, Xalen.”

Xalen nodded. “Now what?”

“Whoever hired this guy managed to find him somehow,” Seknafret reasoned. “I’ll just have to keep looking.”