Standing before the destruction of the blue dragon and digesting its demand for the mask, the party comes to some realizations. EKIM takes stock of the day and the party. Their magic wielders have casted some particularly powerful spells inside the tower and the front liners have not had a chance to rest. He does not like the odds. Dennis, in his nervousness, is clutching the blue mask with his sweaty palms. He can’t think straight and cannot make sense of the change he sees in his hands. Sariel, the last of the companions in the rear of the party, also makes note of Dennis’ hands. They look as if they have been drained of color on a cold winter’s day. More importantly, she begins to put together everything about their mission to Xonthal leading up to this moment. The Harpers were cautious, thinking the intelligence was a trap. The delivery by the Zhentharium didn’t help. Yet, the dragon waited until their exit to confront them. She’s beginning to think that this was a trap but not for Tobin’s Revenge.
Sariel and EKIM encourage Dennis to put the mask away in the bag of holding. They respond with deceptive ignorance to the location of the mask to buy some time. The dragon is short on patience, takes to the skies, and burns two more swaths of the village with its lightning breath before returning to the top of the same house. “You already have the blood of one innocent town on your hands. Shall I add a second?” There is a brief moment of pain for many members as they think back on the fate of Phandalin. But, the moment passes as they focus on the now. On the brink of a fight Sariel quickly inquires about Dennis’ hands. He thinks it funny that they look cold without the color, but they feel perfectly fine. Overly sweaty but fine. As he rubs his fingers on the palms of hands to make sure the sensation is still there, he notices that the ‘color’ smears. His hands have not drained of their color but have been seemingly dyed a faint pale blue. The two of them come to the realization at the same time. The mask is a fake.
The rest of the party, not sure if they are up for the fight themselves, is easy to convince. Belgwyn slowly approaches the dragon and lays down the mask half way between. Once she has returned the dragon swoops down from the rooftop and clutches the mask in its claws. With a deep throated chuckle he sneers, “Fools! She will return and will bring you to an end once and for all.” And before anything else can happen, leaps into the air and flies off towards the setting sun. The group takes in a collective sigh before turning their attention to the burning village. It is a long night, but once the village has been secured and the fires put out, the party finds any quiet place available and falls asleep.
It is now Tarsakh, the fourth month of the year, and the weather is starting to grow milder. Snow still lays on parts of the land but no longer accumulates with fresh layers. The party departs Xonthal’s Tower after handing it over to the Zhentarium agent in exchange for the network’s support against the cult of the dragons. The party has no need for an ancient mage’s tower and now understands they will need all the help they can get if they wish to defeat a god. Several days into their journey home on a clear afternoon, they round a bend in the road and are met with the faint sounds of a gathering. To the party it sounds almost like a carnival in nature, and Sariel with her sharp fey eyes, notices a trail of toadstools leading off into the forest. She is quick to discern that the toadstools are not of the material plane but from the feywild, her home. Without hesitation she takes off in the direction they lead, leaving only words for her companion. After a short walk through the woods the trees part into an opening of almost impossible roundness. The forest is still dusted with the snow of winter, but the glade is green and covered in wildflowers. The picture of a beautiful spring day surrounded by the cold of a dying winter. On the other side of the glade are tents and awnings of bright colors, lights lit even in the afternoon daylight, and creatures of the feywilds mingling about with gayful travelers. The travelers have seemingly parked their wagons in the remainder of the glade, forming semi circles about the event. And at the far end, slightly obscured from view, is a sleeping dragon with opalescent scales and a green fur ruff along her back.
Sariel immediately recognizes this setting as a traveling fey market. She has heard of these many times but has never had the opportunity to visit one during her time here in the material plane. It has been more years than she cares to remember since she has last encountered the company of her kin. She continues to encourage the group towards the market walking up to a ring of toadstools and two lanterns. As they approach the two lanterns a small creature no bigger than a human hand flies up and excitedly greets them. She introduces herself as Pixabelle, pointing out that she’s a fairy not pixie, and welcomes them to Pazrodine’s market. She then rapid fire begins to explain that wagons go on the outside, people go on the inside, well at least most, and don’t break Pazrodine’s rules. As she floats past the line of visitors she eyes Sariel, and while she continues to fly down the line talk, her eyes continuously dart back to the eladrin. As she finishes obviously rehearsed lines, she quickly flits over to within inches of Sariel’s face and even faster than her initial approach. She whispers, “Are you here on court business?”
Before Sariel can fully answer, the small fairy asks even more. She wants to know why Sariel is in her summer form during winter, explains that a very convoluted family tree to explain she knows of a grumpy eladrin back home, and ends by asking if she can touch Sariel’s hair. That last question she immediately apologizes for being rude and sulks away, short lived, to address the group as whole once again. She offers up to guide the visitors if they wish, explaining the numerous opportunities the market has to offer. There is a fortune teller, food, animals, magic, and more. The party inclines to see the fortune teller off of Pixabelle’s insistence that he is really good. They have a few questions about themselves that they wouldn’t mind having answers. Excitedly she exclaims to follow her and takes off far too fast, leaving a trail of fey dust in her wake leading to a tent in the center of the market. As the group makes to follow the trail, Hupp hears an unhurried female voice. It sounds close, as if standing right behind him, and asks if he has been feeding the power at this hip well. It thinks not and states that it would like to have a conversation. No one else seems to react to what he is hearing and looking about he cannot find the source. He takes note and catches up with his companions.
The group finds Pixabelle outside a silver tent with a banner showing a colorful jester’s hat. She beckons them to come over and meet Oddlewin. Inside they find a fey goblin sitting cross-legged in the center slowly shuffling a handful of cards. The interior walls are patched with symbols from the cards and lit with a single lantern. Some of the group, Hupp in particular, notice that even with just the single lantern, the goblin sitting before them casts multiple shadows. Even more disturbing is that they are all different. Some are short, others are tall. Some even have horns. The only thing in common is that they all come to a point and seem to attach to the goblin himself. He looks up and says “Took you long enough!” Without missing a beat he presents his offer. A fortune from his cards, one per person until the cards run dry. The cost is simply borrowing their shadow. He pauses, and then offers a second choice.
He claims to sense the power of another deck being held by the party and wishes to see it. The group hesitates before he reminds them that Pazrodine forbids stealing, confirmed by Pixabelle. Dennis offers up the deck, forgetting that Sariel has it locked up in her wooden box, but Sariel willingly produces the Deck of Fate’s Chance. Oddlewin shuffles the cards and then riffles them beside his ear. He asks if any of the group listens to the cards, figure none know how. He tells the group that while he is only able to tell the future with his cards, their deck is expansive enough to give full readings, the past, the present, and the future. He is willing to give any of them their fortune for the price of a card from their deck per fortune read. He warns that their deck can only read a person’s fortune once in their lifetime. Seeing the group’s hesitation at his offer, he counters. For the price of only two cards, he will teach one of them how to listen to the cards, giving them the freedom to provide readings at their will. In short, Seebo steps forward to learn from the goblin.
Beckoning the gnome to sit with him, Oddlewin shuffles the cards, removes two from the top, and pockets them without disclosing which he has gained. Placing the cards in Seebo’s hands he tells the gnome that the cards do not care who holds them but who listens. He instructs the gnome to answer out loud, smirking that a wrong answer will just make him look silly, but no harm would happen. He could just try again. Oddlewin then presents a riddle:
I see every face that sits before me,
yet I have never seen my own.
I speak for all who ask of me,
but none may ask for me alone.
Hold me, and I answer only you;
let go, and I’ll forget your hand —
and once forgotten, never new.
Say what I am, and understand.
Seebo draws the image of a mirror on his device. Oddlewin ponders for a moment before saying, “Close enough. Now you are one.” The deck warms in Seebo’s hands and he immediately understands the deck, its power, and its limits. The goblin sees the understanding in the gnome’s eyes and quietly says, “Now you know why I read for everyone else.” He then wishes the travelers well and ushers them out of his tent.
Having no interest in what he feels is a hustle, EKIM wanders off a short distance to the closest thing to a bar that he can find. Another short goblin sits on a stool with a few barrels of some sort of drink behind her. EKIM has watched her pour several for other feyfolk in passing and approaches. The price for a drink is a lock of hair, nothing more. EKIM, longing for a drink, accepts the offer. The drink the goblin provides is sweet and bubbly. Made from a sort of unknown fruit. The effects are that of a sturdy ale, and EKIM feels great. All for just the cost of a little hair. He meets back up with the group as Pixabelle is pointing out the other folks in the market as they make their way to the back of the market where the dragon rests. There is Hugo, the satyr card collector, Merriweather, the dryad bird caretaker, a weird dog off to the side, and, with reluctance by Pixabelle, Lavender, a pixie scrolls trader. Dennis immediately demands to visit Lavender; others are interested in seeing Hugo. Belgwynn, not having a chance to hear her fortune, wants to see Granny, who Pixabelle has promised can help her with any problem she has.
With a little tension from Pixabelle, Dennis speaks to Lavender but finds nothing of interest to purchase from her and her tiny scrolls. Her price was simply to borrow his voice for a time, a price the rest of the party was willing to pay. Sariel wins a Deck of Wonder in one of the fastest hands of a fey card game the rest of the party does not understand that Hugo says he has ever played. Before leaving, Sariel overhears Pixabelle and Hugo talking about the dryad Merriweather. It seems that Hugo cannot bring himself to speak to Merriweather and tell her about his feelings. Sariel takes care of that herself, not waiting to see if it even works. Eventually the party makes their way to Granny Goosefinger’s tent. Pixabelle calls out for Granny to come meet her new friends.
Granny’s stall is simple with a pale green awning over a workbench and shelves. The shelves are lined with small dolls resembling creatures both from the feywild and material plane. Granny, an elderly elf hunched over from seemingly a lifetime of doll making, is humming to herself as she puts the finishing touches on the doll resting on the workbench top. She quietly responds, “Just a moment dearie. Can’t rush the details.” Putting the doll on the shelf she turns to the group and warmly greets them. Immediately EKIM notices the newest doll to the collection. It is uncanny how like him it looks, including the hair. His hair perhaps? He asks the cost of the doll without hesitation. Two dreams is all the elf asks for in return. He says fine and lists off two dreams, of which she laughs and with a smile says it’s not up to him on the two dreams. She holds out the doll for him to take. He swipes it while the elf just continues to smile. Nothing happens as she returns her attention to the rest of the group.
Belgwynn is the first to speak up and asks if Granny would be able to help out with the odd feelings she has been having since their adventure within White Plume Mountain. She thinks it through while sizing up the dwarf. Her offer is either an explanation or a solution, each for the price of a component she is short on. Just a breath. As Belgwynn ponders the offer, Sariel has put together everything and knows what is going on. This is no ordinary elf, this is a fey witch, some might call a hag. She knows this is a bad idea but can’t seem to stop what has started. Granny hints that the solution is the better deal, as the explanation will just push her to the solution anyways at the extra cost. She produces a glass jar, opens it, and tells Belgwynn to breathe into the jar. Belgwynn tries the smallest breath she can muster, but the bar pulls the full lungful out. Feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her, Belgwynn takes in a lungful of air and then is fine.
Putting the jar away, Granny produces a simple cloth and asks for Whelm. Belgwynn does not want to hand over the hammer, but Granny says it is the only way. Plus the dwarf has already paid the price, no refunds. Whelm is relinquished to the elf reluctantly. Granny begins to rub the hammer with the cloth as if cleaning away the grim accumulated. After a short time, she produces the now extremely clean hammer back to the dwarf and tosses the cloth on the back bench. Several members can see that the side that was touching the hammer is now covered in smudges, but can’t make out anything else the way it landed. “You should be feeling better already,” the elf says through her warm smile. Belgwynn does, but it doesn’t feel right. She tries to telepathically connect to the hammer. Silence. She puts the hammer on the ground and tries to get it to return. It doesn’t move. Whatever Whelm was, it is no more. Belgwynn sulks at the edges of the group, knowing what the exchange has just cost her.
Granny makes other offers. She asks Dennis if he wishes to be rid of his haunting. Faris is offered assistance in removing his curse. All are dissuaded from making deals by Sariel, finally finding her voice. Granny thanks them for their time and wishes them safe travels. The group turns away while Pixabelle leads them to the back of the market. They meet Pazrodine and find her pleasant but unhelpful. She is only there to protect the market and cannot undo or control the happenings as long as her rules are not broken. Even deals made willingly to Granny are binding. Evening has now begun to take hold of the glade and the party has made the rounds. Walking past Granny’s as they leave Pazrodine’s nest they notice the cloth is now framed and on the back wall next to the shelves. It shows a dwarven band battling a horde of goblins. In the center, lit by a light from above, is a warhammer raised high, the focus of the painting. Granny isn’t particularly eager to part with the possession, but offers it up for six breaths, three from two persons each. The group declines and walks away.
Reaching the edge of the market, Pixabelle says her goodbyes. Sariel asks how they can find the market again. After some thought, Pixabelle says that they will not be able to find the market as the market finds them. She shrugs, smiles, and takes off into the market without another word. The group walks away discussing their thoughts on the events of the afternoon. As they move through the wagons one of the merchants greets them and approaches. She is a taller human with dark skin and deep amber hair. She wears fine black traveling clothes and carries a ledger tucked under her arm. She queries the group as to the purpose of their travels, hinting at the potential of being on business for the council in Waterdeep. The group, already weary of their time in the market, is vague in their answers. Hupp recognizes her voice as the one that spoke to him earlier in the day. She finally introduces herself as Seraveth, a trader in information and services, claiming to be able to help the group with their ultimate goal.
After much back and forth, in the vaguest of terms, Seraveth makes the first direct move. She claims to have information crucial to overcoming the cult at the Well of Dragons. She may even be able to offer an intervention at the appropriate time. The members of Tobin’s Revenge still question the extent to which she can help.
Seraveth decides to drop all pretenses to make sure the group understands the extent of her offer. The back of her traveling clothes rip as two large wings emerge. Once white, they are now ashen grey darken to black, and tipped in ember red. Her hair, once tucked neatly away, now floats in the air as if underwater. The ledger faintly glows, still under her arm. Dennis finds the sight intriguing. Seraveth acts as a fiend but is neither devil or demon. She appears to be celestial. It’s hard to put together as to what she really is. Her offer is assistance from down below by her unnamed patron. Her offer is simple, but impactful. She can turn the tide in the battle to come for the price of five particular souls, Sevrin and their four wrymspeakers. Or, turn the tide and directly intervene in the battle for the price of Sevrin’s soul and Blackrazor. Hupp can feel the urge of the sword to be handed over, words of disdain for his meager efforts in the cause. He overcomes the feeling but understands the wants of Blackrazor. There is a third option, information in good faith in return for an opportunity to address the council directly to make their offer. She seems unrushed and straight forward in her terms.
A few of the companions question how they can make a deal for the souls of others. She presents a coin-like item that looks like a wax seal made of metal. She explains that this ledger seal will put up the signatory’s soul as collateral in return for the ability to capture the soul of the desired creature. The catch is that either the signatory must kill the target or the seal must be close to the creature at death. Sariel pushes the group to make a deal, she feels that they need all the help against a god. Help from the Nine Hells seems important as that is where Tiamat currently resides. Hupp agrees to part with Blackrazor but makes a counter offer. He keeps the sword until right before the battle. Seraveth finds this acceptable, as long as he puts up his soul against the delivery of Blackrazor when she calls. She also explains that should he accept that contract, he cannot hold the seal for Sevrin’s soul. Groz offers herself on that account. The terms agreed to, Severath pulls a sheet of paper from the back of her ledger and presents it to Hupp. As Hupp cannot read infernal, Severath explains the details as he signs the contract. Next she holds out the ledger seal for Groz to take. Walking Groz through the process, Seraveth instructs the gnoll to depress the small button on the edge. Doing so open the face of the seal to show a piece of infernal contract paper within while pricking the gnolls claw pad. Depressing the pad on to the paper to leave behind a print in blood, the seal closes itself. On the face appears the name Sevrin in bronze writing and Seraveth’s own name on the back. Seraveth explains that should they be successful Sevrin’s name will turn gold, and they will have one month to turn over the seal and entrapped soul or break the contract.
The fiend makes note of the transactions in her ledger. Glimpses at the pages reveal organized notes written in infernal but cannot be fully read or interpreted from the group’s perspective. Satisfied, Seraveth remarks that she will see them again in the end and reinforces to the harengon to keep the sword safe. She walks away, turning behind one of the carts, and vanishes from the glade. The party has much to think about and ponder over the course of the remainder of their journey back to Waterdeep. They kill the time by asking Seboo to read their fortunes. They have only ever heard him speak in dreams, here the deck gives him a voice.
Session Date – 13 November 2026
Roster
- Belgwyn
- Dennis
- Divad
- EKIM
- Faris
- Groz
- Hupp
- Sariel
- Seebo