29. I Like To Call It Revenge
Session Summary
Dragon Heist
Xanathar's Lair
I’ve Got One Thing, I Like To Call It Revenge
Encounters
| Encounter |
Monster |
Qty |
XP/Each |
XP Total |
| 1 |
Gas Spore |
4 |
100 |
400 |
| |
Zombie Beholder |
1 |
1800 |
1800 |
| 2 |
Ren |
1 |
1800 |
1800 |
| |
|
|
XP Total |
4000 |
| |
|
|
XP Each |
800 |
- We switched from using Milestones to using XP for this session.
Treasure
| Treasure |
Value (gp) |
| 1 Potion of Tough Actin’ Tinactin* |
75 gp |
*Also known as Keoghtom’s Nightshade’s Ointment
Summary
Veldrin ran after Aradaine, who had run from the room screaming, while Hamidal and Piety carried an unconscious Footsteps back into the hallway while also directing Merle, who was carrying an paralyzed Raelynn and a hallucinating Ren. Veldrin was able to catch up with Aradaine and begin to get him under control, but he was still obviously shaken and eager to leave the area. Footsteps slowly came too as they waited in the hall of statues to converse with N’arl and figure out their next steps.
N’arl was ready to bring the party back to the arena to finish out their tournament, but they weren’t so into that idea. There was the promise of a trophy and maybe some other prizes, including a stuffy, but the party wasn’t convinced that spending more time as the prisoner of a slaver sounded like a wise course of action. And so they planned to escape! They were right near the hall of eyes at the entrance to the lair, but that entrance was guarded by an undead beholder and its gassy minions.
N’arl asked them to consider staying behind to help him plant his explosives, striking a major blow to the Xanathar’s organization, but they felt his plan could use some more… well, planning. They werent’ convinced that it wouldn’t do serious damage to either Skullport or Waterdeep, and more importantly, to their own bodies. So they decided to try their chances with the door guards. N’arl, seeing that they were prepared to flee, decided to hide himself in a corner somewhere hopefully out of the way of the Xanathar’s wrath when he learned of the tournament’s prize fighters’ escape.
The party made their way back out to the entry hallway. Veldrin billowed forth and attempted to use his guile to get past the sentries, flashing his amulet in hopes that it would work similar to whatever it was Ahmaergo had flashed when they’d entered. It didn’t work, however. Seeing that his ruse wasn’t working, Veldrin drew his blade and the party tensed for a fight. Knowing the beholder was a big threat, Veldrin immediately began slicing at it while Footsteps and Aradaine moved into the room to assist.
Hamidal cast the spell Ice Knife against the beholder, flinging a shard of frozen magical energy that exploded into shards on contact, hitting all of the creatures in the room. Unfortunately, this caused the Gas Spores to explode on contact, releasing a thick, green cloud of noxious gas. The explosions proved too much for Veldrin, who collapsed on the floor. Aradaine and Footsteps were further back and so only took minor injuries, but immediately began coughing and weezing, trying to expunge the spores that had now filled their lungs.
Footsteps summoned a healing spirit in the form of a cat to sit with Veldrin and purr him back to health while the rest of the party focussed on bringing down the beholder. With the help of the spirit, Veldrin was able to get shakily back to his feet and finally eviscerate the beholder, dropping a smelly mess of organs to the floor before the bulk of it landed on top of them.
The party moved quickly out of the entry and past the sounds of the crowd in the arena in the hallway towards the entrance. They met no resistance on their way out of the Guts & Garters’ basement, finding themselves back on the streets of Skullport. Aradaine and Footsteps were beginning to look worse, however. Something in that noxious cloud they’d inhaled was making them very ill.
Footsteps was eager to kill Ren - he was almost shaking with the desire by this point, after being in her prescense for so long without being able to do anything about it. He asked Veldrin if it would be a sensible thing to do, to murder someone in the streets of Skullport. Veldrin said that while there wasn’t really any ‘law’ in Skullport, it’d probably be best to do it somewhere out of the way so as not to attract any unwanted attention - there were things worse than guards in this city.
Footsteps thought this over, but decided that he and Aradaine were too ill to worry about that at the moment. Hamidal looked them both over but wasn’t able to determine the exact nature of the illness, just that it was something serious for them to be so afflicted. The disease seemed to be causing a serious overproduction of phlegm, as it was pouring from their eyes and noses, as well as a possible overproduction of bile, going by their complaints of intestinal issues. It was decided that they needed to seek medical help immediately. Veldrin, no stranger to Skullport, suggested that there was an apothecary on the upper level of the Trade Lanes that might be able to help.
While they made their way through the Lower Trade Lanes, Footsteps signalled to Veldrin that he wanted him to disarm Ren. Approaching silently behind her, Footsteps pulled back her cloak with the tip of his blade. Realizing Footsteps was right behind her, Ren snapped her head around and gave Footsteps a quick look. While she was distracted, with her cloak lifted, Veldrin stepped in and removed her blade, sheating it in his own belt before quickly resuming his march.
And so, after a treachorous climb up stairs and across rope bridges made from materials salvaged from dozens of ships over countless years, the party found themselves standing outside of a ramshackle storefront made from salvaged wood and various bits of dross that looked halfway ready to collapse. Only the strange assortment of bottles lining the window gave a hint towards the shack’s purpose as an apothecary, that and the small sign reading “The Nightshade’s Caress”.
Hamidal entered with Footsteps and was quickly distracted by the rows of shelves lined with all sorts of potions and strange ingredients. He decided that this might be a shop he’d like to return to at some point and wished to stay on the proprietor’s good side. Walking to the back of the shop, they soon found said proprietor - a rather large humanoid female that, for all the world, looked to Hamidal like the old crones depicted as witches in a book of fairy tales he’d had as a child.
Hamidal explained that his friends had the unfortunate luck to inhale some of the innards of a gas spore and were feeling rather ill and that they’d hoped she could provide some sort of potion that would aid them. He believed the potion they were seaking was called “tinactin” and asked if she had any of it available.
The crone looked over the ailing Footsteps and began scrabbling through various ingredients she had spread around her shop. She eventually held up a rather large centipede, about the size and length of Hamidal’s forearm. It lay limply in her hand, but showed some signs of life, sluggishly stirring about as she held it up. “Tinactin!” she declared. This was not what Hamidal had been expecting. His nose turned up at the sight of the creature, and he asked if she was sure that was what he’d been looking for, as he’d expected something more of a tincture or potion.
It was about then that someone entered the shop behind him. “WHAT’S THIS?!” came a shrieking voice behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he turned to look at the newcomer. It was Mhaug, the hag from the Lower Port who’d tried to sell him a crook-necked zombie when they first arrived. She bounded towards Merle and inspected him closely while questioning Hamidal about the zombie’s provenance. Hamidal told her he’d purchased the body Shradin in the Lower Heart. Mhaug was having none of it.
She turned her nose up to Hamidal and Merle, noting that Merle had obviously never been hanged and that any proper zombie required hanging. She said hello to the proprietress, Nightshade, who said she’d be with her as soon as her transaction with Hamidal was complete. Mhaug stood haughtily waiting, arms crossed in obvious disdain. Hamidal was feeling ever more uncomfortable in the shop. He felt like a schoolboy caught in the gaze of some overbearing school marm, but the reality was much more terrifying, with this inhuman creatures breathing down his neck in the small shop. Footsteps had since retreated to the catwalks outside to better keep an eye on Ren (and slow the spinning of his head).
Nightshade said she’d sell Hamidal the ingredients for his “tinactin” potion for 25gp each, but if he wanted her to make the potion herself she’d charge 50gp, with a twinkle in her eye at the thought of so much gold. Then she told him that if he gave her 75gp she’d allow him to watch her make it so that he’d know the process himself. As reluctant as he was to stay in the shop any longer than he needed to, he agreed to her offer. He stood over her shoulder as she dissected the large centipede, extracting viscious organs to place them in her mortar and pestle, adding various other herbs and unidentified bits. At the end, she gave him 3 vials of thick fluid and thanked him for his patronage.
Feeling like he might never get off the dirt he now felt on his skin, Hamidal retreated to the catwalks to deliver the potions to Aradaine and Footsteps, now obviously suffering from the effects of this unknown disease. Piety was kind enough to use her magic to change the flavor of the concoctions to strawberry, but it was still thick and viscous. Aradaine and Footsteps drank it down and hoped for the best. It wasn’t long until Footsteps started to feel some side effects - at first just a little indigestion and heartburn, slowly building to full on nausea. He was eager to finally get to Ren, but he didn’t want to find himself puking his gets out in the middle of his revenge.
But then he felt fine. All of those stomach issues just quickly faded, and he started to feel just fine. He started to think maybe it had passed - the potion had worked! That’s when he started puking. He immediately grabbed for his Bag of Holding and vomited up an endless stream of what felt like visciously large hairballs, but was really a thick, glowing green slime. His stomach heaved and pumped, but eventually the spasms subsided and he slowly started to feel better. Soon, both he and Aradaine felt better. Good enough to move on - good enough to murder.
As they walked back across the catwalks towards the closest set of stairs leading to the lower levels, Footsteps finally saw his chance. Ren was getting cagey, obviously looking for her chance to escape, but not seeing it yet. While they approached a lonely stretch of catwalk that led between the side of two large buildings, he decided the time was right. After signalling the party, Footsteps approached Ren as they moved to the middle of the catwalk.
Hamidal cast a slowness spell on Ren to thwart any attempt to escape and told Merle “Don’t allow her to leave,” before turning his back, not wanting to see what happened next. Veldrin and Aradaine were leading their march, so they formed a wall to Ren’s north. Footsteps approached Ren and told her her time was up. He said that she the last time they had met, she had left him with broken bones and his people dead, his village burning - alone. But he wasn’t alone anymore.
Footsteps was conflicted - was this justice or just vengeance? He sorely missed his friend Grick at this moment. He didn’t always take his advice or agree with his strict vision of the world, he provided a guide on what was right. Was this just murder? Without Grick to talk him down, he gave in to his desire to see an end to this. He said to Ren, “The last time we met, you left me to die with two broken legs. You killed the men in my village, and you sold the women and children into slavery. You think this is about you and me. But it’s different this time. I’m not fighting alone”, and then he signaled to Veldrin to attack her.
Veldrin gave a nod and swept in to attack, slashing at Ren from behind. Ren, slowed by Hamidal’s magic, had no time to react. Footsteps sprung into action, slashing and gouging at Ren, as she made to defend herself. She made to run for the side of the catwalk, maybe thinking to jump to a large stalactite that was nearby, to work her way down to the lower level, but Veldrin and Footsteps were quick in a normal fight, nevermind one where she felt like she was swimming through molasses. Footsteps stabbed at her side, sinking his blade deep into her flesh. As a last resort, she grabbed the blade, trying to keep him from pushing it in further, but he easily overcame her waning strength. Blood now streaming from her flayed hands, he edged closer to her as his blade pushed through organs and out her back.
Now standing face to face with only the hilt of Footsteps’ sword between them, Footsteps put his hand into Ren’s mouth and said, “My name is Footsteps Along His Father’s Path. When we met, you lied to me. You’ll never lie to anyone again.” He popped his claws out in her mouth, and cut out her tongue. He grabbed her wrist and said, “You took my people from me. You’ll never take anything again.”, and he cut off her hand. He said, “You ran from me. You’ll never run from anyone again,” and he cut off her foot. As she lay dying on the ground, he took her by the collar and said “My name is Footsteps Along His Father’s Path. I’ve been looking for you for ten years. I’m the only person that cared where you were. And now that you’re dying, no one will remember your name.”
As she lie gurgling in her own blood, slowly convulsing as her heart desperately beat the last of its blood out onto the catwalk, Veldrin noticed that they were drawing some attention from the catwalk below, where Ren’s blood was raining down. Skulkers are used to moisture condensing and falling from the ceiling and stalactites, but a few were put off upon realizing it was blood dripping down and not the usual murky rain. But the blood then drew a new crowd who were glad to have the salty spirit dripping down upon them. Veldrin told the party it was probably best if they moved on quickly, so as not to draw any more unwanted attention to themselves.
By this time, the party was feeling pretty worn out. It had been a rather long… well, day wouldn’t quite be the word. Hamidal didn’t feel like he could take another night at The Burning Troll and asked Veldrin to guide them to a place that offered a higher caliber of room - his treat. Veldrin led them through the Dark Harvest Market, past where Hamidal had bought the corpse that was now Merle from Shradin’s shop, to a tavern and inn called Bindle’s Blade.
It became obvious where the name had come from once they entered the inn. Where there would normally be a large support beam holding up the ceiling, there was a huge sword that could only possibly be wielded by a giant. The bartender was a sea elf woman named Oel’yvia. She offered the party ale, warm food, and private rooms. Even Hamidal was a bit taken aback by the price of said rooms - 250gp for five of them for the night. But he gladly paid it to be able to sleep in an acceptable bed again.
And so after filling their bellies with food, the party went off to their rooms to rest.
Image: Killer Cat by Ufuru18 on DeviantArt