Session 08: We Know Where to Put the Bodies Now

Beneath the bustling streets of Waterdeep, within the dimly lit bowels of a natural cave system, the adventurers reminisced about a past escapade, chuckling at the memory of Bhakris Edge and Bartholemeow’s attempt at dwarven singing—an endeavor that was as cacophonous as the clash of swords. Their laughter echoed through the chamber, mingling with the faint glow and the rhythmic sway of plants that moved as if caressed by an unseen breeze.

Thalmiir Brukur, the grizzled dwarf with deep ties to the earth, squinted his eyes, trying to sense the elusive breeze. Alas, luck was not on his side, and he grunted in stubborn denial, convinced everything was as it should be, despite his companions’ raised eyebrows.

The group mused over the swaying vegetation. Was it a natural underground breeze, or something else? Thalmiir, eager to show his earthy prowess, brandished his axe, ready to carve a path through the greenery. The chamber they now stood before was a curious meld of nature and craft, the wild growth spilling into the remnants of a constructed space.

Thalmiir’s axe swung, but the stubborn vegetation simply sprang back, unharmed. Pebblesong and Bartholemeow, the druid and the feline bard, joined forces. Pebblesong, with a keen understanding of nature, identified the swaying plants as bloodweed—a carnivorous species known for its hunger for flesh. She cautioned against hasty contact, and with Bartholemeow’s agile movements, they found a safe passage through the roots, though it required the grace of a dancer to evade the bloodweed’s slicing embrace.

As they progressed, the filtered light from above hinted at an open pit or a covered well, fueling speculation about their subterranean whereabouts. Pebblesong, the dwarf raised by firbolgs, danced through the bloodweed with acrobatic flair, while Thalmiir, ever the pragmatist, employed a grappling hook in an attempt to clear the path. His first try was modestly successful, but with a forceful yank, the second cleared a way.

The adventurers faced a gap in their path, and with the help of a rope, they crossed it cautiously. A large stone served as an anchor for the knotted rope, tied with sufficient skill but without the confidence of expertise. The knot held, albeit with the dubious assurance it might not last, and the party traversed the gap with guidance from their comrades.

A fleeting thought about a prior transformation into a giant spider by Waer’dara, the drow warlock with arachnid affinity, sparked a brief discussion. Could such a form spin a web to aid them now? Pebblesong, ever observant, spotted a grate above, allowing light to seep through—a covered well. Her knowledge of the city above unveiled their position beneath the streets of Waterdeep, turning the well into a grim marker, likely a hidden receptacle of the dead.

The rampant growth of bloodweed suggested a grim possibility—it was fed by more than just soil. A search ensued, and amidst the dangerous flora, a humanoid bone was discovered. The adventurers speculated on its origin and the fate of those missing from Waterdeep, a sobering reminder of their quest.

They ventured deeper, their path marked by footprints that wove through the twisting tunnels. The complexity of the cave system grew, and at every junction, they were met with arrows etched into the stone—confusing markings that only compounded their uncertainty.

Pebblesong, with her natural insight, surmised that these arrows were left by someone lost, desperate to record their wanderings. The paths least marked, they reasoned, were likely the correct passage, for the one who was lost would not have returned to mark it again.

A group survival check led them to discover more than just arrows. Dwarvish writing adorned the wall, a message from someone named Carahan Coalsmith of the Duergar clan. “You are here to destroy it. Don’t fail,” it read, igniting a debate—was it the Urn or the Orb they were meant to destroy? The message was fresh and unweathered, a recent plea etched in stone.

As Bartholemeow composed a song of their journey, with Hat adding whimsical flourishes, the group pondered the possibility of mind-confusing magic. Detect Magic revealed no enchantment on the writing, yet further down, Waer’dara found another message, “It makes you forget,” cementing the notion of memory-warping forces at play.

The party continued, piecing together the cryptic messages. Bartholemeow found a repeating message, while tally marks beside some arrows suggested a counting of crossings. Bhakris uncovered a dramatic note, “People you love died for this. Destroy it. Egg. Kaerhan Kole,” adding to the mystery of their predecessors’ fate.

The adventurers followed the trail’s end to a chamber, where the ceiling was obscured by a vast webwork of silk, with cocoons that might hold the constables they sought. They hesitated, aware of the potential dangers of disturbing such a lair. As they deliberated, Thalmiir signaled for caution—a hand sign that not all might recognize. Waer’dara, entranced by the web’s beauty, was reminded by Thalmiir of their duty to rescue those ensnared.

Perception checks were called for, and Bhakris, with his sharp eyes, spotted a giant spider lying in wait. The creature was poised to strike, granting it the advantage of surprise over all but the observant earth genasi.

As the session closed, the group was left in suspense, wondering how Waer’dara would deal with the imminent threat from a creature so close to her patron. They shared a sense of enjoyment and eagerness to see how the tangled threads of their adventure would unravel in the caves beneath Waterdeep.