Greensboro Tyranny of Dragons 07/11/2015

Death of a Vampire

After managing to neutralize Sandesyl Morgia and her minions the group headed back to the giant guest rooms where the wyverns were perched on their balconies. Saphira was too distracted by the vampire’s last words to admonish Avon and Aathil for not listing to her about not touching the coffin.

Back in the room Saphira picks up one of her darts and starts absentmindedly fiddling with it while pacing back and forth talking to her self.

“I know you. What could she have meant by that? She’s a vampire, old as the mountains by the looks of her clothing. How could she know me.”
The tail of the dart snaps and Saphira passes her hand over the dart and mends it without looking at it. Then goes back to spinning it in her hand.

She walks to the wall and touches it to walk out onto the balcony, tossing her wyvern a bit of ogre meat. The wall reappears behind her and she resumes pacing along the balcony.

“I know you. Could she have said anything more cryptic?” Saphira looks at he wyvern who’s laying on the balcony watching her pace back and forth.
A faint memory tickles the back of her mind but before she can solidify the memory it fades away.
SNAP. Saphira mends the dart with a absent minded carelessness that shows how much of an ingrained habit breaking and mending items has become.
Her pacing speeds up for a moment and then she slows. She runs her free hand along the claws and scales that make up her necklace.
“Think Saphira, what did Varis tell you about moon elves.”
The wind causes Saphira’s hair to whip around her face.
SNAP
“Teu’Tel’Quessir. Silver elves.”
She looks at her silvery-white streak of blonde hair as it whips around and mingles with her darker auburn hair. She mends the dart and walks back into the castle.
She runs her hand through her hair to remove the tangles created by the wind while spinning the dart in the other hand as she walks back into the room. Ignoring her companions she walks over to her pack and digs out the protective leather pouch containing her griffon feather and sits on the ground with the feather in front of her lying on the leather pouch.
“Impulsive nomads. That’s how he described them.” Saphira mutters in common. She stands back up and paces in front of the feather. Another vague idea runs through the back of her mind disappearing before she can grab a hold of it.
SNAP. Sighing she mends the dart again.
“Adventurous. Overly tolerant of other races.”
Briefly switching the dart to her right hand before moving it back to the left. “There were a lot of them near the Moonsea.” Saphira muttered. A faint memory forms in her mind. Suddenly she stops and throws the dart, it sticks into the wall.
She looks at her hand as a small flame appears. “Maybe it is just as simple as that.” The flame crackles in her hand and grows slightly larger and then gets smaller again. “you said he was one. Perhaps she was just picking up on that.”
Dissatisfied with that answer Saphira dismisses the flame. Walking over to the wall she pulls the dart out and mends the tiny whole in the wall left by it.
Sighing she walks back to her pack and pulls out her bedroll and puts away the feather. Flopping onto the bedroll, Saphira used the tail of the dart to scratch at the scarred cartilage of her ears. (At some point in her life someone tried to make her ears look more human than elf. Though asking about it will just get you a withering look.) Grumbling about the arrogance and pride of humans Saphira puts the dart in the pouch and closes her eyes.

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Previously in Faerun #13 (from 05/28/2016 game)
Wooooooooooooo! (QLHoldren42)

Our airborne Adventurers successfully flew and landed their stolen wyverns on Skyreach Castle.

Ambushing some javelin tossing Ogres the Adventurers began to search the castle.

An empty tower with ballista and rocks at the peak were sabotaged. A crumbing tower was searched and a Moon Elf Vampire with two consorts were fought and destroyed. Before Sandesyl was put down with a stake to the heart she eyed Saphira and said, “I know you!”

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Previously in Faerun #13 (from 05/14/2016 game)
Wyvern Flight (QLHoldren42)

Suffering their first defeat our Adventurers found themselves captured by Talis the White, disgruntled Cult of the Dragon member.

She offered the group an opportunity. She would offer them help to board Skyreach Castle if they did their utmost to ruin the plans of Rezmir. The group accepted and Talis produced a banner (the colors of chromatic Dragons) and a pass phrase.

Travelling to Parnast, a small community overrun with cultists the Adventurers attempted to cause an uprising. Waiting for the next day the castle suddenly flew away.

Learning of Wyvern mounts kept in the local stables the Adventurers were able to harness three of the beasts and take flight after the castle.

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Previously in Faerun #12 (from 04/30/2016 game)
Trouble in the Lodge (QLHoldren42)

Our 6 Adventurers cleared the caverns below Castle Naerytar and found a teleportation circle.

Speaking the command word the Adventurers found themselves outside a hunting lodge located in the foothills of some unknown mountains.

Exploring the surroundings they found partial Half-Dragon tracks leading to the lodge but were hidden by more recent tracks. They found an unpleasant four armed troll and using Xinu a breach in an upper floor room.

Sneaking into the room they explored several rooms, looting along the way. Avon decided to search rooms on the other side of the building and found a sleeping man in splint mail.

Avon attempted to be sneaky, oops.

All hell is breaking loose as we join our Adventurers in a dire circumstance.

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Previously in Faerun #11 (from 04/09/2016 game)
Battle of Castle Naerytar Part II (QLHoldren42)

Combat! Combat! Combat! Some treasure. Combat! Rest.

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Hmph. Skepticism.

Nonsense, she thought as she sat in front of her own fire prodding at the coals with a stick. She hated the northern climate, so cold both night and day. Even wrapped in furs with a healthy fire crackling practically on top of her, she just couldn’t get warm.

No, “nonsense” wasn’t the right word. She was still struggling with the more advanced vocabulary of the northern version of the Common language. However, “nonsense” came close enough for a great many things. Yet there was another word that described her feelings about her presence in this bizarre and often disorderly group. Ah yes … there it was, slowly fading into her mind like a twinkling star at twilight.

Superfluous. Yes. THAT was the word. What in the Nine Hells was she doing here? That brush with death was just too close … way too close. Yet death was merely a part of the life she had chosen to live; she was not afraid to die. Her defeat had not made her hesitant, cowardly, or given her second thoughts about swinging a sword for a living.

What bothered her was how her defeat, her falling in the middle of the conflict changed nothing about the battle itself. No one tried to revive her, move her out of harms way, or use any sort of magic to get her back into the fight. Because she was essentially, well, superfluous.

It wasn’t because she was lacking in fighting expertise. She knew that. Her pride was not at all wounded by this revelation. But with wolves and bears growling and pouncing; with fireballs cooking off, owls flying around and magical flaming bolts hissing hither and yon, most everyone was already dead before she could get her swords out of their sheaths much less actually arrive where the enemies were standing. In addition, she realized, her presence in the midst of a crowd engaging in melee would only serve to prevent wizards and druids from throwing their mass effect spells.

Well … MAYBE it would prevent them. She wasn’t altogether so sure anymore. She could hardly call anyone a friend despite how long they’ve been traveling together and no one seemed all that concerned when she went down during the fight. Eh, Saffryn shrugged. She didn’t expect tears and flowers, but sheesh, no one even asked if she was okay. Definitely not friends, so who is to say whether they wouldn’t just go ahead and launch a fireball into a crowd of enemies where she was doing battle, hoping she would endure the blast?

After all, SOME folks in the group seem to have gotten rather careless about triggering traps in their haste to open boxes … and Saffryn was not overly fond of catching fire in her face thanks to a trap that most likely could have been disarmed with a little patience. She shook her head and sighed. She still could not answer why she was here.

Saffryn looked off into the night and gave serious thought of simply grabbing her bags, mounting, and galloping off into the murk, leaving everyone behind. What difference would it really make? She was … superfluous, after all. Her swords were needed less and less, less and less. Chances are, it will only get worse as time goes on and the casters obtain even more power.

She held no ill will toward them, of course, but she wanted to be where she was needed. Besides, she thought, giving the others a sidelong glance, the party was growing increasingly reckless and the chemistry was all wrong — at least for her. No sense of camaraderie. How long would it be before this entire endeavor implodes?

Should she stay another day? Week? Month? Saffryn angrily tossed more kindling into the fire and listened to it crackle for a moment. Truth was, she didn’t know, but the open road back to civilization was tempting — very, very tempting. She had enough gold now to live comfortably for quite some time. She stared at her horse and felt herself actually begin to rise from the ground, ready to make good on her musings. Gravity, however, must have been magically augmented for a moment for she ended up sitting back down. For what reason, she did not know.

It looked like she wasn’t leaving just yet. But she could feel her future slipping moment by moment between her fingers.

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Previously in Faerun #10 (from 03/12/2016 game)
Battle of Castle Naerytar (QLHoldren42)

Our 6 Adventurers tracked the Cult of the Dragon’s stolen treasure to the Carnath Roadhouse located on the outskirts of the Mere of Dead Men. Discovering a secret tunnel leading into the Mere, our Adventurers retrieved their mounts and headed deep into the Mere. In the midst of battle with hungry giant lizards the druid Saphira turned on the gnome Jamna Gleamsilver killing her for the murder of the stable boy Womp.

Finding a dry camp ground the Adventurers rested until a group of lizard folk approached. Hiding in the Mere the Adventurers spied on lizard folk overnight and let them be on their way the next day. The lizard folk returned in full retreat being pursued by a Shambling Mound.

After saving one of the lizard folk named Snapjaw they learned the cult is using Bullywugs and Lizard folk out of an ancient castle called Naerytar. Infiltrating the castle and winning the lizard folk to their side they determined to find Rezmir. Bursting into the upper floor of the inner keep all they found was an ancient observatory and four gargoyles ready to strike.

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