The air hung heavy with the scent of brackish water and damp wood as the ship carrying the intrepid adventurers approached a small, dilapidated dock nestled within a marshy delta near the mouth of the Delimber River. The journey from Waterdeep had been largely uneventful, save for a harrowing encounter with a sea mermaid horror that had temporarily claimed the life of the goblin artificer, Hat. As the vessel slowed to a halt, the ship’s captain announced a brief respite, instructing each group of passengers to leave at least one member aboard to ensure the ship’s security. Waer’dara volunteered to remain behind, her obsidian eyes scanning the horizon with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Bartholemeow engaged the first mate in conversation, seeking insight into the nature of the dock town. The mate painted a picture of a quaint, unremarkable settlement, its primary attraction being a tavern called Limbeer’s Mouth, known for its passable ale—likely brewed with the very swamp water that surrounded them—and a slightly more palatable whiskey.
As the adventurers disembarked, they took in the sight of the rundown dock, its weathered planks suitable for mooring boats but ill-equipped for the offloading of substantial cargo. The captain, ever mindful of the time, granted the crew a mere two hours of shore leave, cautioning that the ship would depart promptly at midday. Any stragglers not aboard by the third group of three bell rings, spaced mere minutes apart, would be left to their own devices.
The Iron Vanguard, a formidable presence, marched towards the town in a disciplined line, while the Silent Fang, ever elusive, slipped away unnoticed, leaving a single member behind. The adventurers, drawn by the promise of refreshment and respite, followed in the wake of the Iron Vanguard, their footsteps leading them through the heart of the town, a humble collection of single-story structures bisected by mud-filled troughs.
Thalmiir, his armor gleaming and his axe at the ready, strode purposefully into Limbeer’s Mouth, engaging the barkeep in a spirited discussion regarding the quality of the tavern’s swamp beer. The dwarf offered his expertise, suggesting potential improvements to the brew, while Hat, ever the opportunist, proposed a business arrangement involving the sale of superior beer from their enchanted jug. The barkeep, however, politely declined, unwilling to disrupt the established order or permit the goblin to peddle their wares within the establishment.
As the companions debated the merits of the tavern’s offerings, a commotion erupted outside, drawing their attention. A bewildered local burst through the tavern’s doors, his voice tinged with urgency as he proclaimed the presence of a fire within the town. Tendrils of smoke could be seen rising from a nearby building, an alarming sight in a settlement so thoroughly saturated by the surrounding marsh.
The townsfolk, unaccustomed to such emergencies and lacking a proper fire brigade, hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Eventually, those in positions of authority began to organize a rudimentary response, directing the gathering crowd to procure buckets and converge upon the blaze.
Hat and Pebblesong raced towards the source of the smoke, arriving to find a small fire smoldering within a window, its flames licking at the curtains and threatening to spread to the roof. A handful of locals had already begun to douse the flames with buckets of swamp water, their efforts valiant but insufficient.
Pebblesong, calling upon the primal magic of their druidic heritage, summoned forth a localized rainstorm, a shimmering cube of water materializing above the burning building. The conjured deluge swiftly extinguished the flames, leaving the structure drenched but intact. The townsfolk, initially stunned by the display of power, erupted into a slow, appreciative applause, their faces etched with a mixture of awe and gratitude.
Hat, ever the showman, seized the moment, acting as Pebblesong’s hype goblin and encouraging the crowd’s adulation. Their performance, a testament to their quick wit and charm, further endeared the companions to the gathered throng. Removing their colorful hat, they solicited “coppers for the rain” as a token of appreciation for Pebblesong’s timely intervention. The goblin’s charm and the crowd’s gratitude combined to fill their hat with a modest sum, which they dutifully split with their druidic companion.
Amidst the celebratory atmosphere, a woman’s voice rose above the din, her tone laced with agitation. She spoke of a diminutive figure, a halfling, whose comical misfortunes had inadvertently sparked the blaze. A tale unfolded of the halfling’s ill-fated journey through the town, a slapstick series of events involving a sneeze, a fart, and a startled horse that had kicked over a lit candle, setting the stage for the near-catastrophe.
Intrigued by the halfling’s role in the day’s excitement, Hat and Pebblesong resolved to investigate further, following the direction in which the diminutive figure had fled. Hat, utilizing their keen survival instincts, scoured the ground for traces of the halfling’s passage, while Puppet, their trusty companion, theatrically gestured towards a perfectly formed bootprint, its size and shape confirming the halfling’s involvement.
As they followed the trail, a peculiar figure stumbled forth from the underbrush, his naked form clutching a copper medallion. The stranger, introducing himself as “Fortune’s lackey,” spoke in cryptic riddles, his words hinting at a connection to the goddess of misfortune, Beshaba. Pebblesong, drawing upon their knowledge of the divine, recognized the medallion’s symbol as that of Beshaba, the antithesis to Tymora, the goddess of luck. Whispers of Beshaba’s favored souls, rare individuals who served as nexuses of ill fortune, echoed in their memory, tales shared by the clerics of their temple.
The odd man, claiming to be an instrument of Beshaba’s will, suggested that his presence might serve to absorb the party’s misfortunes, drawing their bad luck unto himself and growing stronger in the process. Pebblesong and Hat, intrigued by the concept, decided to test their luck, each flipping a coin into the air. The first coin, defying probability, landed upon the head of a nearby lizard, its tiny skull shattering under the impact. The second, seemingly swallowed by the muck, disappeared from sight, leaving the companions to ponder the nature of their fortunes.
The lackey, citing the encroaching cold, prepared to depart, but not before posing a final riddle to the adventurers: “Awe-inspiring force of nature, eternally to earth I fall. Yet I ever roar with power, always standing tall, what am I?” Pebblesong, their mind as quick as their magic, responded with the answer: “A waterfall.” The man, pleased by their wit and the balance of kindness and hostility they had shown him, proclaimed that they had earned the favor of Beshaba. As a boon, he granted each of them a small measure of the goddess’s power, a gift that could shape the course of their journey. With a final, comical misstep, Fortune’s lackey collided with a tree as he departed, vanishing into the wilderness to the northeast.
Back on the Wind Whisperer, Bhakris and Waer’dara noticed a peculiar sound began to echo across the river—a rhythmic thumping, growing louder with each passing moment. A large, gaudily decorated boat emerged from the mists, propelled by some unseen force as it cut swiftly through the water. Its red hull was adorned with intricate blue and purple patterns, while its deck teemed with revelers lost in the throes of celebration. A towering drum, manned by a dwarf, pounded out a primal beat, while the passengers engaged in an outlandish dance, their movements synchronized to the pulsing rhythm.
Bhakris, his curiosity piqued, sought to determine the nature of the strange vessel, suspecting a connection to the fey realms. As the boat veered towards them, a figure in a tall hat called out, inviting the adventurers to join their revelry. The Jade Diadem, as the boat was called, boasted of unparalleled speed and the promise of endless festivities. The figure, a member of the enigmatic Jade Diadem, extended an offer to the companions, promising a generous sign-on bonus for those willing to embrace the party’s eternal spirit.
Bhakris, ever cautious, declined the invitation, citing the absence of his wayward companions. As the Jade Diadem prepared to depart, Waer’dara caught sight of the Silent Fang member slipping away, dashing towards the town with a sense of urgency. The drow and the genasi, bound by their own code, chose not to pursue, content to let the consequences of the Silent Fang’s actions fall where they may.
Meanwhile, in the tavern, Bartholemeow and Thalmiir found themselves embroiled in a different sort of adventure. The bard attempted to busk for coin, his performance earning him the offer of drinks, if not the gold he sought. The arrival of a Silent Fang member, breathless and agitated, interrupted the revelry, as the group hastily departed, muttering about the need for tar and the captain’s presence.
Thalmiir, sensing the urgency in their words, set out to locate Captain Thaddeus Bramblewick, his booming voice echoing through the streets as he sought information from the townsfolk. A young girl, enticed by the promise of a penny, revealed the captain’s whereabouts, sending the dwarf on a determined path towards Fergan’s stall and, eventually, Old Lady Ray’s residence.
Thalmiir and Bartholemeow attempted to secure information from a stall vendor. The vendor, amused by the bard’s charm, shared the captain’s recent visit and his acquisition of a trinket before departing for Lady Ray’s abode. The shapeshifter, seizing upon the opportunity, purchased a bucket from the vendor, an act that sparked a spirited debate among the companions about the nature and purpose of such a receptacle.
As the scene unfolded, Captain Bramblewick found himself in a tender moment with Lady Ray and a child, the domestic bliss shattered by Thalmiir’s abrupt entrance. The captain, alarmed by the dwarf’s urgency, instructed him to locate Storm while he raced back to the ship, the gravity of the situation apparent in his hastened steps.
Aboard the vessel, the Silent Fang returned, their movements furtive as they descended below deck. Bhakris, ever vigilant, took it upon himself to inspect their belongings, ensuring that no threats lurked within. The genasi’s keen senses detected the scent of exotic spices, well-oiled leather, and sandalwood, but no trace of explosives. As he turned to leave, satisfied with his investigation, he found himself confronted by the entirety of the Silent Fang, their presence a silent challenge to his intrusion.
The tension mounted as the Silent Fang retrieved their bags, making their way above deck with purpose. With a deft toss of a grappling hook, they secured a line to the Jade Diadem, now some 200 feet offshore. The party boat’s crew cheered as the Silent Fang came aboard, their captain casting a disdainful glance towards Bhakris, Waer’dara, and the lone Iron Vanguard member who remained.
As the Jade Diadem disappeared upriver, propelled by the power of song and dance, the Wind Whisperer was left in its wake, the captain and the remaining adventurers arriving to find the ship secure but lacking the Silent Fang’s presence. Waer’dara recounted the events that had transpired, the magical vessel’s allure and the Silent Fang’s abrupt departure. The captain, pragmatic as ever, took the news in stride, noting that the Silent Fang’s passage had been paid in advance, though he mused on the missed opportunity to claim their abandoned belongings.
Thalmiir presented a bucket of tar he had procured from the town, believing it to be a necessity for the ship’s maintenance. The captain, appreciative of the gesture, clarified that such a small quantity would be insufficient for any significant repairs, speculating that the Silent Fang’s request had been a mere distraction, a ploy to cover their true intentions.
As the ship prepared to depart, the bells rang out thrice three times, a clarion call to any stragglers. The Iron Vanguard member, arriving just before the second set of chimes, secured their place aboard, while Storm, the crew member, dutifully waited a moment longer before sounding the final peal, an act of caution even in the face of a complete complement.
Bhakris, seeking to share the wonders he had witnessed, regaled his fey companions, Hat and Bartholemeow, with a poor rendition of the Jade Diadem’s enchanting song, hoping to pique their interest in the magical vessel and the mysteries it held.
With the wind at their backs and the promise of adventure ahead, the Wind Whisperer cast off, its prow pointed towards the Delimber River and the challenges that awaited them. The companions, their bonds tested and strengthened by the day’s events, looked to the horizon with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, eager to unravel the secrets that lay ahead and to forge their own legends in the annals of history.
Session Notes