With dusk settling onto Waterdeep and the city’s storefronts closing shop, the group decided to head back towards Blackstaff Tower and then to Lord Amcathra’s manor, expecting it to be a relatively safe place to rest for the night.

However, as they left the tower’s neighborhood, that sensation of being watch returned, and the party caught a quick glimpse of a winged humanoid form following them in the low clouds. An impromptu plan was hatched: Varis and Tin would take to the alleys and rooftops, covering the band from the shadows, and Feral, Klemnon, and Drengy would conspicuously head forward trying to draw out their pursuers.

Although Klemnon seemed distracted by other concerns, the group accepted Amcathra’s proposal to find the concealed Prison of Calavakos and discover from its contents information about the threats to the group and the natural balance of the world. They received from Amcathra Calavakos’ Journal with its rich cache of mystical knowledge, a bag of holding with 1,000 gold worth of ritual supplies, a suit of Healers Chainmail +2 worn by a famed Cleric of Pelor, a scroll which contains a ritual that will get the group out of the extra dimensional prison, and 350 gold each.

The light of the dawn showed through the windows of the Amcathra estate, casting it’s pale light on the sleeping adventures. The battle of that evening had been grueling. The scattered remnants of the fallen shadow creatures were even now being cleared away from the wreckage of the now scarred Amcathra Library.

Jules sat quietly in his study, an untouched plate of food now cold and forgotten next to him as he poured over the contents of a well worn leather bound book. As he flipped through the pages making careful notations, he though back to the moments after the terrible battle in the Library.

Converging from their different parts of town, Drengy, Tin, Feral, and Klemnon find their ways to the walled and manicured estate of Lord Jules Amcathra, an affluent Waterdeep denizen and researcher into the mysteries of the Weave – the mystical network of magic that saturates all of Faerun.

After having dealt with the Shadow Assassins that had ambushed them, most found the compulsory journey to Amcathra’s uneventful. Only Drengy suffered the awkwardness of explaining to the owner of the home he destroyed while fighting his assailant what had happened – a conversation summarily ended by the bluntness of Drengy’s glower and a terse exchange of words.

Some heroes rise up as icons of the hopes and dreams of their community, others are forged by nightmare. This is a tale of the latter.

Without understanding how or why they were experiencing it, Klemnon Melk, Tim Woodsfellow, Drengy, and Feral Jackwagon found themselves inexplicable sliding down a steep stone ramp which deposited them unceremoniously in a small rectangular chamber. Ominous blue flame prevented exit up the shoot, and no other way out of the room was apparent. However, the room had other occupants- disoriented and terrified men, women and children from the distant village of Fishkill. And the room had three other worrisome attributes: blue runes what seemed to pulse or feed on the anguish and fear of the occupants, a wall covered with dried blood, and grooves in other walls suggesting that a far wall may move in like a vice.