Dungeons and Dragons: The End of Our Tal Dorei Campaign, and My Thoughts About It

I started our year-long Tal Dorei campaign last May as Large Silent Friend, a Firbolg Druid who had been banished from his village as an adolescent for unwittingly smothering a miraculous creature he was bringing back to his village to show everyone. He followed the Blood Hunters Banlys and Trogg into the city of Tal Dorei having no idea what would happen next. My reasoning with this character was that he could be a fish out of water, sort of like a Crocodile Dundee, and present a counterpoint to everyone else's reaction to the city. This never manifested in our campaign at all. 

Large Silent Friend

Our campaign ended this Tuesday after I took the Dungeon Master seat three months ago and drove it home with a fairly cliched storyline where Asmodeus used the vacuum of power inherent in the Tal Dorei system to reunite with his son Graz'zt, and manipulate the party into destroying anyone who could have stopped him, culminating in a final battle where the party decimated Vox Machina.

They made it fairly easy by snagging the Hand and Eye of Vecna, then all separately agreeing to deals that would have them killing off Asmodeus' only real competitor, the Mother of Ravens. The player who portrayed Pliz'skin, who was the one who took the Hand of Vecna at a black mass, then bargained with Iggwilv for the Eye, was a real joy to watch play, because he just bulled forward at every opportunity, and never asked or cared if anyone was going to follow. It was a damn lot of fun to watch someone play it that way, and really fit in perfectly to how I wanted to finish this campaign.

Which dovetails into my review of Tal Dorei. I start by saying I didn't read the sourcebook. It just wasn't very interesting, but I did assimilate the part about how the gods of Exandria had been banished. This story point led to what seems like the obvious end to any Tal Dorei campaign. Once any godlike entity anywhere in the Multiverse gets wind that there are no gods in Exandria, they are naturally going to want to fill that vacuum and seize power. When our original DM, the magnificent Travis Legge, allowed the campaign to veer into Waterdeep: Dragon Heist, then The Dungeon of the Mad Mage, the die was really cast. The gate to the Forgotten Realms was opened, and the party actually moved Trollskull Alley into The Cloudtop District of Tal Dorei, and opened Trollskull Manor, renaming it Trogskull Sporksbar, after two characters who had died in battle. For the second half of our campaign it could be said we were always in the Forgotten Realms. 

And if you're in the Forgotten Realms, the gods, devils, and demons are NOT banished. Halaster Blackcloak found a way to open a portal and invite Graz'zt and Iggwilv through, and from that point on it was a ll a matter of corrupting the players for three months into doing their dirty work until they brought through the Lords of Hell, a convoy of Hellfire Engines, and legions of lower devils to take over the entirety of Exandria.

It is natural the final battle would be with Vox Machina, the previous heroes of Tal Dorei, who remained Chaotic Good for the most part, and played a prominent role early in the campaign, even lending the party their vestments. I haven't watched the Critical Role podcasts, but the Vox Machina had several tactical weaknesses in the composition of their party, not the least of which was some confusing multi-classing, and they after four rounds of combat really presented no resistance to our Planescape Tuesday's party. 

I think they may have been more composed for entertainment than actual D and D playing. 

One of my interesting takeaways is that even after having killed Vox Machina, a group of celestials playing a Stryper song in their bar at a battle of the bands, and having plunged the city into the iron fist of Asmodeus, the party didn't consider themselves evil at all.

I'll admit after one character foisted the Hand and Eye of Vecna there really wasn't any going back, and all they could have really done was confront and overwhelm him. Otherwise, they just had to go along and get along, which they did. It presented some real difficulties for me as a DM because I had four characters who were either leaning Neutral Good, or at most Neutral, and one character who was now literally the Hands of the Devil. 

I also broke one of the cardinal rules of being a Game Manager and asked if I could play my own character, Large Silent Friend, as I really just wanted to join in the fun. They agreed. It wasn't as much of a burden as I would have thought. Mostly he just hung out and wild shaped so he could absorb tons of damage. 

On a personal level, getting to sit in the Dungeon Master's seat right as I turned fifty was a bucket list item. The first week I was so overwhelmed and nervous all I could think to do was have have Halaster compel the party into an auditorium where they fought an identical party composed of simulacrums of  themselves created by the lich Trobriand. This was a fun battle and allowed me to play them against them, so I learned a good deal about their abilities and weaknesses. The next week they went to Trobriand's Graveyard and tracked down Trobriand, played by Doobie Brothers singer, Michael McDonald, and almost managed to kill him aboard his prime creation, The Shockerstomper. I say almost because Trobriand cast a Meteor Storm at the end of the battle and killed everyone but Pliz'skin and Zox Clammersham, who brought them back with a Wish spell. 

Shockerstomper, helmed by the Lich Michael McDonald, er, Trobriand, designed by Jack Mathews

I remember my first foray into Dungeons and Dragons took place at the height of the Satanic Panic, and we were banned from playing at school, then one by one, in the basements of our friend's houses. In the end all I had was the books, and no one to play with, until I came home one day and mother had burned the books. 

I'd have to say waiting over thirty years to play again, then getting to Dungeon Master a campaign, was damn sweet. 

Tal Dorei is fine. I'm not looking to bash it. The city is a totally solid place to base a campaign. But you'll probably end up somewhere else before it ends. Of course, that's almost always true in the Multiverse that is Dungeons and Dragons. Can't wait to sit in the DM seat again.


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Our Tal' Dorei Campaign, Week Two: Greyskull Keep and Gilmour's Glorious Goods

Little did our party realize as we wrapped up our scrutinization of the murder scene at the estate of the nobleman Kormallis that we were about to be joined by a new member. From out of the sky the Firbolg Druid Large Silent Friend spotted a small dot growing larger and larger, until it was clear to him a very rare Phoenix was approaching rapidly with two riders. As it made its landing on the lawn, the Phoenix exploded into ashes, and the riders introduced themselves. The older, grey-haired gentleman was Professor von Schlezzler, a renowned necromancer and the head of the City Morgue inside the Alabaster Lyceum. But it was the younger, nerdy looking Tiefling that was soon to join us in our increasingly serpentine web of events. Her name was Amaris, and she was both a wizard and an apprentice of von Schlezzler, but an aspiring adventurer and aspirant to a position in the dark arts. The undead falcon that perched upon her shoulder and eyes us all stonily was a clear indication we were dealing someone marching to the beat of her own drum.

Meanwhile, inside the manor, the Fighter Bromm, standing in for the senator Tyronius, asked the servant if she had a key to Kormallis' library. She did, and went to her bedroom where the key was on a chain she retrieved from the bottom of a trunk. Simultaneously to Bromm finding Kormallis' journal in the library. Professor von Schezzler has cast a spell and animated the ghost of Kormallis, who arises and upon being questioned clearly does not realize he is dead. He is of no use and is allowed to go to his final rest.

Von Schlezzler, a seasoned investigator, working in tandem with his pupil, Amaris, soon concluded that Purple Worm poison had been used on Kormallis. This clue was key because Purple Worm poison could only be obtained in two places: The city of Kamil, or Greyskull Keep, the stronghold of the Vox Machina, though they had long ago all but abandoned it to move on to personal pursuits.

It was agreed Spork Fastwhiler would set off on his own to pursue the many leads he now had, including the story of Marshall Ulder Ravenguard, a hero in the battle against Vecna, who may have a very important role in the current murder spree, and the rest of the party would head to Greyskull Keep to determine if anyone had been there recently making an effort to obtain purple worm poison. Professor von Schlezzler gave his protege Amaris a sending stone and instructed her to join the search for evidence and report back with any discoveries we were able to make.

The trek to the lower slums and the Greyskull Keep was uneventful, and we arrived by nightfall. Along the way Pliz'skin, Bromm, and Trog had skads of indelicate questions for the "whore" Torie about her friend Daisy, but made little headway into gaining her trust with their hardboiled methods. However, with her more subtle approach, the hot nerdy wizard Amaris was able to elicit from the street-hardened Torie that Daisy an elf, and that had a mistrust and aversion to the City Watch, even though prostitution is not illegal in Emon. So why was she uneasy around the City Watch? 

Bromm, being Bromm, used his influence to send two underlings back to Syngorn to search for any official records that could shed some light on the Elven refugee. An Elven streetwalker was not a common thing. Something was amiss here. But what? Who was Daisy, and who was she possible working for that got her killed?

Greyskull Keep, home of the Vox Machina. Sort of. 

Arriving finally at the grand and majestic Greyskull Keep, no particular investigative expertise was required to discover the two feet we saw sticking out from under the portcullis. Bromm shouted "I am a representative of the Senator from Syngorn, show yourself," but the feet did not show themselves. We soon discovered why. The third murder victim belonged to those feet. The scene was as grisly as the previous two, and done in the same ritualistic way, except this time it was the tongue that was removed. Trog used his Bloodhunting skills to determine no fiends or fey were involved in the heinous act. 

The party wanted to established a time frame in which the murder had been committed, and noticed neither the torches or brazers appeared to have been lit in days, making it apparent this crime had most likely been committed previous to the other two, which would mean the culprits had come specifically for purple worm poison, and maybe something else. But what? The only way to find out was to enter the keep.

Entering with no resistance and with no indication anyone else was present, we proceeded to a large hall that contained a table with nine chairs, maps, and artifacts we realized could only have belonged to the fabled Vox Machina. This was no doubt their war room. Nothing else in the room was of much interest, except a door to the West whose lock had been broken. 

A Glyph of warding was on the door, and the room beyond had seemingly been entered quite recently judging from the fire damage we witnessed. Apparently just breaking the lock was not the only condition essential for entering this room safely. Yet the ever-determined Monk Plis'skin set to work with his thieves' tools to perhaps disarm any traps, but in the attempt set off the glyph, burning himself badly. He was, however, able to determine the detonation of the fire glyph gave us fifteen seconds to enter the room, which all of us did. Once inside we knew were were in a treasure room worthy of the Vox Machina. Artifacts, potions, scrolls, and weapons of all types were present, including what we recognized as the Sword of Kas, used to defeat Vecna. It was also abundantly clear to us that disturbing any of these artifacts would certainly be a futile and fatal gesture. 

What we did note was that someone else had been more successful in purloining certain of these artifacts, including purple work poison, scrolls involving resurrection and contacting other planes, and the journals of the Vox Machina themselves. Whoever had managed to steal what was protected so well must have known what they were looking for and how to avoid being disintegrated doing so. 

But our pressing problem was how to get out of the room without activating the fiery glyph of warding again. Torie believed she had noticed a way to do it without activating the ward. She was wrong, and was burned severely on her arm. Large Silent Friend was able to heal her partially, and the rest of us exited the treasure room safely.

Trog insisted on moving forward, and we made our way to a door down the hall. Amaris contacted Professor von Schlezzler on her sending stone, relaying the information we had collected so far, and was told to continue ferreting out the castle. We made our way to the door at the end of the hall and found it to be locked. Plis'kin further discerned through careful scrutiny that any attempt to open the door without the proper key would activate a trap. The ever-sharp Trog postulated the caretaker we found at the gates of the keep might also have keys to the keep, which turned out to be exactly the case. The only slight complication is that he had ALL the keys. Twenty in all. The studious and observant Amaris believed she might be able to find the right key, and quickly decided she knew which one was right for this door.

Trog insisted he be the one to try the key, and as we braced for impact we were relieved to learn she was right. Sort of. The door didn't open, but a Magic Mouth appeared and refused to respond to any of our inquiries, including Bromm's declaration that he was some sort of official official from an official place. Instead we were informed that it was the mouth's duty to alert the Vox Humana that the door had been violated.

We heard a whoosh of wind outside the window, and a Half Elven Druid woman appeared from nowhere, with a walking stick that looked like an upside down umbrella. All residents of Exandria knew this was Keyleth, headmaster of the Air Ashari, and member of Vox Machina. What could she have thought seeing our motley crew inside of her Keep? Informing her that the gatekeeper had been murdered only raised her vexation with us as we became the prime suspects. We tried to explain how and why we came to the Keep to further investigate the series of murders that was happening, but she seemed far more concerned about the other caretaker of Greyskull Keep, Lynn, and increasingly vexed at our very presence in her sacred place.

Keyleth, headmaster of the Air Ashari

Bromm moved to question the druid, but her attention was entirely fixed on finding the other caretaker of Greyskull Keep. We split into two groups, and Keyleth went up the stairs with Bromm and Amaris went up the stairs to the caretaker's quarters, while Trog, Plis'kin, and Large Silent Friend entered the chapel, where all of the gods had alters. Seeing an alter to the Wild Mother surrounded by plants that had been neglected for several days, Large Silent Friend made his offering to the Wild Mother and quickly nursed the plants back to health, learning from them that they had been uncared for in five days, thereby confirming the timeline that had been established by Trog that the murders here had taken place even before the murders in Emon. The perpetrators had come here first. 

Upstairs Keyleth discovers the body of Lynn, treated in the same vulgar manner as the other murder victims,except in her case her eye was missing. The body was laid out in an outline of raven feathers, and a drawer that had been left partially opened had raven feathers strewn before it. 

It was at this inopportune moment that the always diplomatic Bromm made the error of questioning Keyleth about the ritual murders, the missing pages from her journal, and any possibility she may be involved in trying to resurrect her lover, Vax, who had sacrificed himself during the battle against Vecna, eventually being transformed into a revenant. His line of questioning was met by a flying backfist from the typically demure druid, and an admonition that "If you ever disrespect me or the memory of Vax again, I will wear your skin." However, Bromm's impetuous, ill-advised maneuver did get the druid to speak to summon us to the war room where she told us about many matters that shed light on the details of Vax's death, Vecna, and the betrayer Arkhan, the dragonborn betrayer of Vox Machina.

Banlys asked the very logical question why would Greyskull Keep, if it contained such important artifacts, be left to the protection of only two caretakers. Keyleth explained all members of Vox Machina would have been teleported back if anyone had disturbed any of the artifacts, raising more questions about who exactly could have known enough about circumventing the safeguards to enter and exit with certain artifacts without alerting the Vox Machina.

She wistfully related the tragic details of her last days with Vax'ildan, how he made a bargain with the Matron of Ravens that transformed him into a revenant, and how Arkhan had betrayed the Vox Machina to accrue power with the goal of opening the gates of hell and allowing his dark queen, the Scaled Tyrant, to return to this plane.

It was at this time the irascible Trog blurted out that he would like to speak to the hero of all Goliaths, Grog. Keyleth obliged, and Grog appeared. An instant later a huge tankard of ale appeared in Grog's hand. before Trog sat Grog Strongjaw, grand puba of the doink. Trog asked many questions of Grog, mostly about Arkhan and the cult of the Scaled Tyrant. This made Grog somewhat sullen and the sadness and regret showed in his demeanor, but he answered the questions put to him by his fellow Goliath. 

Grog Strongjaw

Bromm then opened up a line of questioning about the details of Vax's transformation into a revenant, and Arkhan's betrayel. The taciturn Goliath conveyed that he never thought Keyleth's attempt to allow Vax to live on was a good idea. Asked what ever became of the hand of Vecna, Grog boasted he cut it up into many pieces, then scattered it across the world, including dropping it into volcanoes, but he also volunteered the intriguing tidbit that Keyleth had requested and been given a piece of the thumb.

Trog then expressed his admiration for his hero and asked if he could have some memento from their meeting. The legendary warrior complied by removing his bracers and tossing them onto the table before Trog.

At this point we had so many possible paths to follow it all seemed overwhelming. Was Arkhan and his cult responsible for these murders in an attempt to summon the Scaled Tyrant? Was someone trying to resurrect Vecna? Was it even possible Keyleth was so grief-stricken by the loss of Vax that she had resorted to dark methods in an attempt to bring her love back? Was there even another shadowy player who was yet to reveal its presence behind all of this mayhem? 

Little remained to be done at the Greyskull Keep, but Amaris wanted to perform one more examination of the second caretaker's body, and doing so discovered stone flecks consistent with the skin of a basilisk. What part did this creature play in this fourth murder, or more accurately, the second murder, but the fourth we had discovered?

Leaving the Keep Keyleth implored us to find the missing pages of her journal, which were about her relationship with Vax, not any dark plot to resurrect her lover, and when we found them were were to not read a word of it.

Plis'skin says he knows a place where we might learn more about how all of these elements come together, and soon we found ourselves at Gilmour's Glorious Goods. Plis'skin now takes the lead and asks the woman behind the counter, a half-elf named Sherri, if anyone has been in recently looking for basilisk poison. She quickly says she must go to the back to inform Sean Gilmour, human sorcerer, and owner of Gilmour's Glorious Goods, that we are asking. Plis'skin tried to follow her to the back, which made her very uncomfortable, and when Sean Gilmour appeared he upbraided Plis'skin about being creepy, then looked into his eyes and said "Oh, you're Yuan-Ti, forget it."

Gilmour's Glorious Goods

When asked about the basilisk poison, Gilmour related the tale of a recent employee he had, named Amnon, who had begun acting suspiciously, snooping through Sean's journals and customer logs, eventually absconding with several valuable magic items, darts, disguises, and basilisk poison. He didn't believe Amnon was a bad fellow, just misguided, or perhaps run amok. But by whom? Bromm at this point excused himself to the washroom, where he discovered a magic hole in which to do whatever business he had intended to do, and Plis'skin and Sean retired to Sean's office, where the details of their discussion remains unknown to the rest of the party.

When the two emerged Plis'skin inquired about a hat of disguise he was enamored with, and was told it cost 500 gp. The party had no way to pay for such an item, so Bromm stepped in and asked if he could run a line of credit in Tiberius the Senator from Singhorn's name. Sean agreed, but said any item not paid for in sixty days would have it's magical powers reversed. At this point Bromm reneged and left the establishment. At this point the wily Plis'skin signed the contract Sean had pulled out, and was the proud owner of a hat of disguise.

As his final nicety, Sean told us he was actually quite a good friend and benefactor of the Vox Machina, and put us on our way to the dock district where he believed Amnon lived, having sent him a turkey as a gift on a recent holiday. The rest of us left Sean's Glorious Gifts and rejoined Bromm. 

Thus ended week two of our Tal' Dorei campaign. With more questions than answers, for sure. 

Review what happened in week one 

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Tal' Dorei Night One Notes From Planescape Tuesdays

Our Tal' Dorei campaign began last night, and none of us knew what to expect as we sat down at the table. I think it's safe to say none of us was expecting a gritty, noir-style murder mystery. Which is what we got.

Taking place some time after the Vox Machina had dispatched the dreaded Chroma Conclave and the bane arch lich Vecna, our campaign begins in an Emon rebuilt partially by the crime syndicate The Clasp, and restored to a thriving city of some 280,000 creatures, mostly human, but with a substantial population of humanoid creatures of all races. A cosmopolitan city with a robust shopping district, government, military, and noble classes, as well as busy docks and slums. The Vox Machina is still with us, but has largely moved on to other pursuits away from Emon, maintaining Greyskull Keep just outside the slums on the Southern side of the city. It is a time ripe for new heroes.  

How we all got to the capital city of Emon is still a little hazy, but the seven of us found ourselves settling in various sections of the city, not knowing each other at all.

My name is Large Silent Friend, at least that's what the creatures of the forest call me, and since I am a Firbolg I have no name but the one I am given by those around me. I was exiled from my tribe as an adolescent when I inadvertently caused the death of a magical creature I wanted to show to my elders. I grew up in the forest guided by the Wild Mother. But recently Ravagers have been encroaching into these sacred lands. And where there is evil, Blood Hunters seem to follow, and that's how I met Banlys the Aarackocra and Trog the Goliath, both Blood Hunters I moved to Emon with last week.

We arrived in Emon on the 11th day of Undular, at the height of the festival, which meant nothing to any of us. We crashed at the meager apartment of  Banlys' and Trog's mentor, Thelius, who was happy to see us, but having two giants and a bird in his small space soon started to try his nerves. We needed to move, but first we needed jobs. Fortunately for us our first opportunity in Emon soon knocked on the door. Literally.

The City of Emon, capital of Tal' Dorei

A former City Guard turned private detective named Spork Fastwhiler knocked on the door and demanded to speak with Thelius. He seemed as if he had just ended up on the losing end of a tussle, and we soon were to learn this was exactly the case. While investigating the strange, ritual murder of a street walker he had been swept up into a mystery that was soon to involve us all. The mystery was soon to entail ritualistic murders, missing hearts,  raven feathers, cults,  necromancers, The Matron of Ravens, the two local crime syndicates The Clasp and the Myriad, and who knows who or what else, but it became clear a chain of events had been set in place that would eventually effect all of Emon, and the entire world itself.

But what part did we play in this Universal imbroglio?

What did Spork already know that he wasn't telling us? What the three of us did know, and we had to take Spork's observations at face value, was that he was contracted by a street walker named Torie to investigate the murder of her friend, named Daisy, in an alley in the dock district near Thelius' apartment. Pouring over the scene, which had already been combed over in a cursory way by a clearly unconcerned City Guard, Spork deduced the grisly murder was actually a much more coordinated and surgical attempt to remove the young girl's heart. And what part did the raven feathers play in the scenario?

His investigation soon led him to the Frozen Sicle tavern where he quickly realized a Clasp member was using a corner table to sell alura root. He learned the Clasp member's name was Dagger, and he was soon to find out why. Following him out of the Frozen Sicle he saw Torie on an adjacent corner, and decided to cross the street and join her to spy on Dagger. Against her admonitions, he followed Dagger to a shabby tenement where the small-time alura dealer was apparently waiting to confront him, drawing both his daggers. But before the two could scuffle a Tiefling named Chastity entered the scene and attacked Spork psychically, causing him to fall to the floor clutching his suddenly aching head. Dagger seized this opportunity to redraw his daggers and "suggest" it might be a good time for the private dick to retreat from the dock district. The bull-headed Spork dug in and was resolute to not accept the recommendation, but Torie convinced him otherwise.

And soon after Spork knocked on Thelius' door. Which is where me, Trog, and Banlys' story begins. However, the story does not start without some bruised feelings, as Spork insulted Trog by referring to him as dumb muscle. I saw my new friend bristle and restrain his rage, being the disciplined creature he is, but I knew the slight would not soon be forgotten.

Spork had questions for Thelius. Questions about necromancers. Questions about the Matron of Ravens. Questions about missing hearts and the Myriad and the Clasp. Being a seasoned Blood Hunter, Thelius knew quite a lot about each topic, but there were aspects of this crime that mystified even him. Further investigation was needed, and Thelius was all too happy to suggest the three of us move into Spork's office for the night pursuant to meeting with a monk of the Cobalt Soul who might know more about the mysterious events that were unfolding. We rested and headed to the Temple District first thing in the morning.

That's where we met Pliz'skin the monk of the Cobalt Soul.

Pliz'skin, Monk of the Cobalt Soul

Was he happy to see us?

Probably not.

Was he hiding something?

Probably.

Steely, cold, and matter of fact, Pliz'skin listened to our story, then was instructed by his master to join us to help solve this mystery. He didn't seem to like us, but he was skilled, confident, and clearly more than capable of handling himself. Our group now included five.

The Druid Large Silent Friend

We were a group set in motion to discover who it was that was seeking dark knowledge.

Dark names and societies dedicated to evil were bandied about. Was it a cult of the Matron of Ravens? Was it the Chain of Oblivion? Adherents of the Scaled Tyrant? Maybe just one solitary madman, albeit a very powerful madman adept in necromancy and ritual. One piece of evidence that could not be overlooked is that the raven feathers had been magically treated so as to not be traced. That was a powerful magic and limited the search to powerful necromancers and certain cults. But it did not limit it to one, and so the search was afoot.

The master of the Cobalt Soul set us on a path to the Alabaster Lyceum. The Alabaster Lyceum is the arcane college and research facility for magical and divine artifacts in the city of Emon.

"The building appears to be built out of white marble, with very high ceilings, stretching up in some areas as high as 80 feet. Much of the building appears to be lit by magical orbs that are either set into the walls or into chandeliers. Some of the rooms have carved pillars depicting battles between devas and demons that spiral up the pillars. The building has guards near the entrances adorned with silver and gold armor wearing elven-like helmets." -from criticalrolewikia 

 So we were off to the Alabaster Lyceum, where adolescent guards refused us entry. We had no written appointment. It was at this time that Trog's anger, still seething from Spork's initial insult. boiled over. He angrily pounded on the force field of the Lyceum and demanded that he be allowed to enter the college of knowledge despite their refusal. The force field held, and we were sent on our unmerry way to seek written permission to enter the arcane college.

Trog Gunga Galunga (Googie) the Goliath Blood Hunter 

Our adventure next took us to the Cloudtop District and the office of the Master Arcanist, Allura Vysoren. A headstrong bureaucrat of the highest order, she also was less than overjoyed to see us. In fact, she was already expecting to meet with the august senator from Syngorn, Tyronius. The only snag is that Tyronius was back in Syngorn with a five day migraine, and had sent his seneschal Bromm to stand in for him. Vysoren was not amused. As the lackey hemmed and hawed, trying to stave off the bureaucrat's rising anger, the conflagration was further complicated by an unannounced investigator's knock on the door. "If this isn't about a murder I have no time for you Vysoren roared," but just as she said those words her sending stone began to glow, and as her eyes rolled back in her head she received the message that the nobleman Kormallis had been murdered in the most grisly and macabre way.

Although Spork's story about the murdered street walker fell on deaf ears, the new revelation that a nobleman had been murdered in a similar manner sparked the overly officious officials' interest, and Bromm was charged with the task of escorting us to the crime scene to investigate and report back the new details of what had now become an official case. We were to meet the detective Marcolas and stay out of her hair while simultaneously doing our own inspection of the crime scene.

This time it wasn't the opulent gentleman's heart that was missing, it was his liver. However, the modus operandi was exactly the same: an expert break-in and entry followed by a grisly mauling and disfiguring of the body, excepting the part of the body that was to be surgically removed, which miraculously remained pristine. Raven feathers had been pressed into the carefully scattered parts and were found under the fingernails. It was a scene that seemed carefully orchestrated to make it appear as if the Matron of ravens was involved. 

Was she? Did someone just want us to think so to throw us off the track?

Spork and Bromm and Pliz'skin culled over the scene of the crime while the rest of us waited outside. They questioned Kormallis' servants, an aged husband and wife, gleaning whatever clues they could from them. On a whim Large Silent Friend decided to talk to the hedge maze and see if the shrubbery had noticed anything unusual the previous night. To his surprise, they did, and told him of two creatures with skin the color of nightfall who had entered through the east door and exited through the west. They asked if they would ever see their beloved master again and were told by LSF that he had passed into the next realm. The Bloodhunter Trog recognized their description of the infernal looking creatures as Tieflings, and the session concluded with us wondering if all of this was related to the Tiefling Chastity who had sent Spork to the floor clutching his head the previous evening.

The session ended with all six of us wondering where this mystery would take us. And what exactly had the Bloodhunter Banlys observed? I am sure there are now six different versions of reality that we must piece together in an effort to work together as a cohesive team to solve this mystery and defend our new home against whatever sinister and dark forces are at work here. 

Dramatis Personae

1) Large Silent Friend: Firbolg Druid

2) Banlys: Aarakocra Blood Hunter

3) Trog Gunga Galunga (Googie): Goliath Blood Hunter

4) Bromm: Human Fighter

5) Spork Fastwhiler: Human Ranger

6) Pliz'skin: Monk 

7) Tyronius: Half-Elf Warlock

8) Travis Legge. Dungeon Master 

9) ?????

Playing Dungeons and Dragons During the Satanic Panic

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