The Unnamed Saga
Tin settled into the downs of the soft bedding of his patron… it shamed him to think so but it did not occur to him until this moment that he indeed was deeply in debt to Lord Jules Amcathra. The man who had helped him and Reggie with their (thankfully mostly unnoticed) early-year exploits within the Nobles’ District. The man who he had turned to after his narrow escape from the clutches of the evil wizarding artificer, Rayniere McWands. The man who now, as it seemed, was a powerful wizard and literally held the threads of the weave in his fingers and could tug them to twist Tin’s halfling wanderlusting ways into a pattern suited for an ostentatious Amcathra.
It was a restless sleep despite being in the nicest accommodations he had ever dreamed. This is what Reggie would have called “making it.” ‘Working, adventuring, living life by the talk of a silver tongue and the quick work of nimble fingers could only take you so far,’ his companion used to say.
Where would he and his fate-bound partners go from here?
Would Drengy, Feral, and Klemnon forever reside in the nightmarish Chamber of Horrors with him every time he closed his eyes until their tugs of the Weave untied that awful knot that had had set the Shadow Assassins of Athola upon them?
Why was Jules so quick to suggest that they seek out the words of a chained Wizard, Calavakos, imprisoned beyond the ages? Surely there had to be other resources at hand to answer the questions that seemed to bubble up from the depths of the Shadowrealm itself.
Tin closed his eyes in lonely anguish. It was the sort of quest that Reggie would have been better equipped to handle with his sharp wits and sharper tongue. He was surely the face of their twinling halfling gang and would have readily known who to speak with. What would Reggie do? Tin tried to think with the streetwise smarts that his brother-from-another-mother possessed.
1) Lore and Weave. Jules suggested Calavakos to seek out information on demons and devils… surely the Wizard’s Guild within the walls of Waterdeep would be a good place to start. Especially with a few choice members of the ex-Red Wizards of Fallen Thay who likely dabbled in dark summonings themselves. Regan Thanatos was the most likely suspect, a noteworthy and recent addition to the guild since his flashy arrival to the city of Waterdeep. He transported himself and a small army of seeming undead into the Merchant Square by unceremonious teleportation and nearly threw the City up in arms. Fortunately for the ill-equipped City Watch, they just happened to just be a handful of diseased and gaunt survivors from the Thanatos noble home since Thay’s violent upheaval with the Lich-King. He quickly made his name in the black market for his eagerness in gold, rare spell components and trade in unsavory planar magics. Regan was polio-atrophied from the waist down by Withering Ghoul-Touch and needed to be carried around by his servants. His word would carry a lot of weight, but would cost much in their fair share of golden weight as well. It sent chills up Tin’s spine to think of consorting with more creatures of the Arcane in these spellplagued times, but there was something fishy going on. Speaking of fishy…
2) Villagers of Fishkill. There were small farming families that were held captive within a haunted feverish dream he shared with the others who were called by Amcathran magics. Did they fall prey to the same spell that Jules cast or was it echoes of something darker beneath the Weave, the corrupt threads of Shades and Mist?!? Do they have the same memory of their horrible execution or is this hints of horrors to come? Where is Fishkill? How could he warn these simple folk of their fate or in a more heroic spirit, save them from such a fate? Surely some of the fisher merchants in the Square or Harborsmen at least know something of the area. If only he had caught a name or two; then he could send them a message of ominous warning by Sending spell or Animal Messenger. Not that warning of doom would save them from…
3) Chamber of Horrors. Its magics seemed to feed on the fear of its unfortunate prey and powered the runes to the tentacled many-eyed monster fused in its center. The greatest, most loathsome of all mysteries. Where was this Chamber? What does the dream mean? How could he stop the dream from unfolding into reality? Answers to such an insane question prompted similarly insane answers. The best that Tin could think of off-hand were the crazy mutterings of one old crone named Raven the Catskills. It was never clear to him whether this crazy seer was named for her many foul-smelling feline companions that followed her around or for her rumored taste for catmeat after sacrificing them for her less squeamish clients who sought the fortunes and knowledge hidden within feline entrails.
He would have to confer with his colleagues in the morning about at least those three leads… Before they did something wild and dangerous like setting off for the Sword Mountains to either the village of Fishkill or the hidden portal within an ancient city to (hopefully NOT free!) an imprisoned Chained Wizard.
Tin slipped off into the deep dark unconscious realm.