daroguecampaigndiary

[daroguecampaigndiary]

The Dalish Curse: Chapter Three

Disclaimer: If you plan on playing The Dalish Curse in your own group, be warned that this campaign diary is riddled with spoilers, and details the ending to the campaign. This is the seventh installment of this series.

Invisible Chains // Ashes to the Waking Sea

The Dalish Curse: Chapter One // Chapter Two 

The corrupted spider’s body quivers unnaturally before the heroes, Eshara, and the Dalish hunters. If one listens closely enough, it sounds as though muffled cries emanate from within the creature’s belly. 

Solange hoists her sword and dives the blade into the spider, leaving a gaping slit. A small man with an equally small staff bursts out of it, heaving a great breath and covered in ichor. 

“Holy Ghost of Andraste!” he shouts, blinking spider guts from his eyes. “Thank you, thank you! I’ve been in that spider for days; I thought for sure I’d be slowly digested to death.” 

Man-Cheetah gives a hearty laugh. “Sick ‘em, Olaf.”

The Mabari bounds up to the tiny newcomer and growls. In return, the man flinches backwards, muttering, “Maker, that’s a big dog.” Man-Cheetah continues his thundering laughter. 

With an elaborate flick of the wrist, Darius freezes the Avvar mid-chuckle. “That’s quite enough.”

“Ah, thank you!” the man says to the Tevinter mage, extending a hand to him. Darius makes a show of noticing the spider’s ooze, but takes it nonetheless. “My name is Eggy, Eggy De La Torrin. I’m indebted to you and your compatriots - indeed, I could learn much from a mage of your skill. Allow me to accompany you and aid you in your journey.”

Before anyone can give answer, the forest’s leaves give a rustle from behind the group. They brace. 

A tall qunari woman steps through into the clearing, seeming dazed to find the party here. One of her horns is cracked off, the other a long spiral. Her hair is long and beaded. She, too, carries a staff. 

“I thought I heard noise...” she says, trailing off. 

Solange ominously rests her hand on the hilt of her sword, the better to showcase the many decaying heads adorning her belt. “State your name and business, qunari.”

She clears her throat. “I am Nazgel. I’m sorry if I seem rude, it’s just... well, I’ve just left the Qun behind. I’m Tal-Vashoth. I wasn’t happy with - well, I guess you know how things are over there? I was unsatisfied with it, the conforming, the order...” She trails off again. It takes a moment before she regains composure. “I am seeking power of my own.” Then, meekly, “I’m not sure how, though. I’ve been travelling all over Thedas for months, and I’ve been in these forests for so long.”

“Both of you should join us,” James Rodolfo says. “I, too, recently joined these adventurers. I am in search of my lost wife, you see. But, there is a more pressing matter, of you wish to aid us.”

The newcomers are quickly filled in to the situation awaiting the village of Vintiver, and before long, the hunters resume guiding the party back through the Dales. 

Their run-in with the spider is not the only danger the party faces on their journey back to Vintiver. The trail they take through the depths of the forest is dangerous, not only due to the influence of Mythallen and his corrupted creature, but also the natural hazards of the terrain. Some of the heroes narrowly avoid grave injury, leaving the forest with minor abrasions. 

The party then comes across a rushing river, created from an unexpected flooding of a river ford that they must cross to reach the village. The river is swift and there are rocks beneath the surface that make the crossing more perilous. 

Despite the dangers, the group plunges into the river, attempting to stay afloat of the powerful current. Darius is surprisingly able to do so, and reaches the opposite shore first; he is exhausted and has taken much damage from the river, however. 

Man-Cheetah, with Olaf on his back, swims the with the mighty strength of his people, chanting something of a hymn over the gurgling water splashing into his mouth. Those nearby him only make out the end of the chant: “...Rock!” 

Nazgel is next to reach the other side of the river, her own qunari strength propelling her forward. Solange keeps a relatively safe pace - although she is slowed down by the weight of her trophy-heads at her hip. 

Eggy and James, however, are not so lucky. Many times, James threatens to dip under the surface and disappear forever; but Eggy manages to use whatever stored energy he has to heal his new companion. Likewise, feeling a strange sense of guilt over the small mage, Darius is compelled to heal whoever he can reach on the shore. 

Suddenly, his energy spent, Eggy disappears below the surface of the water, and all Darius can hear are his anxious cries. Darius shuffles his feet, curses under his breath, and heroically dives back into the water to reach Eggy. He saves him from certain death - and Eggy is able to swim to the other side - but dooms himself to traverse the rest of the river once again. It takes a great toll to reach safety. 

Next, Solange hoists herself onto land, checking to ensure all of her heads are still attached to her belt. 

And, finally, James heaves himself from the churning water. Without even standing up, he retrieves a picture of his wife from his pockets and stares longingly, and unabashedly,  for a brief moment. 

The group can only take a short rest, only long enough to catch their breath, before sprinting the rest of the way to the village. 

They arrive back in Vintiver to find it in chaos. Villagers run through the streets trying to escape the blood crows. Revengers stalk between burning houses searching for prey. Many villagers have already fallen, but all is not lost. They see Tarl, the Warden, defending himself with a knot of stout villagers. The inn is another center of resistance; Dhara wields her staff beside the innkeepers against the creatures. In the village square is a figure that can only be Mythallen. What was once an elf has been twisted beyond recognition. The abomination is now a thing of corruption, its long claws already slick with blood. 

Coalan, his face bandaged and bloated from his burns, engages in fierce comabt with Mythallen. The creature strikes him down, leaving Coalan lying bloody on the battlefield. 

Nazgel, suddenly filled with purpose, pushes ahead of the group; she stands tall, points her staff at Mythallen, and collects flames between her hands. As the flames slowly grow, Nazgel screams the spell in Qunlat: “Say anaan maraas parshaara fazha issala raas ebasit, saar-ost nehraa gaatlok, shok!” 

The plume of fire reaches Mythallen in a booming explosion... but the creature still stands, only further enraged. 

Darius gathers his staff and winks at Solange, an attempt at a conspiratorial joke between the two, and shouts to the abomination, “Who put you on the planet?!” He twirls his staff in the air and thrusts it forward with a “huh!”; a meager flame blast hits Mythallen, and the creature rears, heading straight for Darius.

If it were not for the carnage all around, Solange would have rolled her eyes. 

As the battle rages on, Solange and James hear terrified screams coming from one of the houses. A young child is sticking his head out of a burning window, contemplating a jump but too scared to act. They make out more screams deeper inside the house, the child’s parents trapped. James is unable to reach the house in time, but Solange climbs the facade of the building, reaching toward the crying child. 

At the last second, the weakened boards break, and Solange plunges back to the ground, the rest of the house collapsing in a greater pyre. She cannot ignore the elevated screams of the family as they perish. 

Revengers then come to Mythallen’s aid, surrounding the heroes. James turns and fires his crossbow, piercing a revenger in the head. Darius continues to take heavy blows from Mythallen. “My Link of Rage!” the abomination shouts, reigning his violence down on the mage. 

Suddenly, a child runs screaming past, overwhelmed by a small flock of bloodcrows picking at his scalp. Eggy hears these screams; feeling for the diminutive size and vulnerability of the child, he runs to catch up with him, aiming his staff for the blighted birds. 

More bloodcrows surround Mythallen and his attackers. Eshara and the clan hunters do their best to aid the group, but it is unclear whether they will be able to defeat this many enemies on their own. 

James, hearing the commotion by Eggy, leaps to action with his crossbow, taking out a few of the bloodcrows tormenting the child. 

Darius and Nazgel heave their magic at Mythallen; Solange and Man-Cheetah cleave at the creature with their blades. Miraculously, he is overwhelmed, and with a fatal blow is struck down.

As the abomination falls, Mythallen gives a great cry. “Fools! A greater power will thwart you where you stand. Mythal’s greatest ally will return the world to the elvhen, and all will be right!”

A simultaneous cry of both pain and defeat seems to go up from his darkspawn followers. As if following the sound of the terrible cry, ghostly, screaming shapes emerge from their mouths, swirling like glowing mist into the night air. 

The spirits gather in the greenish cloud overhead, stirring like a gathering storm, and then the most powerful unholy light erupts from Mythallen, lancing skyward in an echoing cry. It scatters the other shapes with a thunderclap and then goes out, leaving a sudden darkness and silence all across the grape arbor that has become a battlefield. 

Where the revengers once stood are now the elves of the Dalish clan; some dead or wounded, but others simply dazed trying to make sense of their surroundings. In the dirt at the heroes’ feet lies not the form of the rage abomination, but that of an elven hunter, dead of the same blow that slew Mythallen. The rage demon is gone, and the threat of the darkspawn with it. 

Man-Cheetah moves to remove Harralan’s head.

Eshara shouts and lunges for him. The hunters raise their bows. 

Solange raises her sword to his throat. “Don’t you dare.”

At their heels, Olaf growls and advances toward Solange. 

“Quiet, dog,” Darius pouts, freezing Man-Cheetah and his pup with a snap of his fingers. 

Since Coalan and his men have been disfigured, and all slain, the village is in terrible shape. As some villagers thank the adventurers for their help, Tarl approaches them, clearly upset. 

“I can’t deny that you’ve proven an ally in the battle against that creature,” he says. “But I think it best you move on from here, immediately.” 

Solange steps forward brazenly. “And why is that?”

“Coalan and his boys woke up shortly after you left and explained the situation at Fuldor Farm to me. And now they’ve died trying to defend their village, despite the atrocities they suffered by your hand.” 

“They tried to kill us,” Solange insisted. “And I think you needed us to survive that attack.”

Tarl stepped ever-closer to Solange, until his eyes looked directly down her own. “Coalan had a temper, but I’ve known him for more than ten years. He would never commit the crimes you accuse him of. I honor your aid by allowing you one night - one night - to rest, then gather your things and leave Vintiver village.”

“And if we don’t?” 

“I am a Warden. I will send the full wrath of my brethren at Weisshaupt down upon you if I find you here by morning.”

Solange, having no other option than to disengage and concede, instead makes her way to the burned remains of the family house, its occupants nothing but charred skeletons in a heap of ash. Overwhelmed by her feelings, remembering her own filial loss, Solange kneels into the ash, gathering it into her hands and running it over her tear-streaked face. 

As sunset creeps over the outskirts of the village, the party makes camp for the night. Dhara remains with Eshara and those of her clan members who had survived Mythallen’s transformation or else escaped the forest, including Keeper Orellis. They talk in hushed tones and fall in and out of elvhen. 

James finds Eggy and sits next to him. “Thank you for your help today, friend. When I get my wife and my wealth back, I promise you a wealth of treasures. You may very well have saved my life.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Eggy replies. “Though if you know of treasure, I’ll tell you what I’m really after. I’m descended from dwarves - that’s why I’m as small as I am. I’ve heard of a staff, its wielder being the only dwarven mage known to exist. Would you have heard of such a thing?”

“I’ve heard tales of it. Some say it’s in an ancient cave deep below the earth, far into the Deep Roads, and a beast stands guard.” James shrugs. “But that’s just legend.”

The two stare into a campfire before them, lost in thought about what is to come.

[daroguecampaigndiary]

i like how darius fails to be the charming tevinter guy he's trying to be

I think we all like Darius failing being the charming Tevinter guy. 

[daroguecampaigndiary]

The Dalish Curse: Chapter Two

Disclaimer: If you plan on playing The Dalish Curse in your own group, be warned that this campaign diary is riddled with spoilers. This is the sixth installment of the campaign. Invisible Chains // Ashes to the Waking Sea

Read Chapter One here. 

As morning breaks, Man-Cheetah is ushered unceremoniously out of the inn by his companions. The Avvar warrior, in desperate need to relieve himself, crouches near a bush outside. Chuckling to himself, he lifts his rear to the window of their room, watching on as the party glances in disgust from above. 

“Excuse me, my good sir,” says a voice. “I am need of assistance.”

Man-Cheetah whirls around to face a dashing man in a seafarer’s garb; his accent is thick, possibly Antivan. Ignoring the state Man-Cheetah is in, the stranger continues. 

“I am looking for my wife - a raider, like myself. She was taken from me, you see. I heard that she may have wandered into Vintiver village. Have you seen a woman travelling alone through here?”

Still crouched, Man-Cheetah replies, “No, the woman we found is an elf. But I’m travelling with a group that might help you find her.”

“Then I’ll join you.”

The two venture back into the inn, where introductions are made. The new adventurer reveals himself as Captain James Rodolfo, a once-great Waking Sea Raider betrayed by his closest ally and separated from his wife, Captain Cressida de la Cruz. Unsure if she is still alive, he has been scouting half of Thedas searching for his beloved. By pledging his services to this mercenary band, he thinks, he may have the best chance of finding her. 

Eshara reminds the group of the urgent matter concerning her Dalish clan, and so the party follows the elf out of Vintiver. Dhara remains behind at the inn so as not to draw more attention to herself, though she seems especially sullen not to help Eshara’s people. 

As the group leaves the village, they overhear the villagers whispering; it’s some sort of trap, they say, and Eshara is the bait! 

Studiously ignoring their words, Eshara looks over her shoulder at the party. “It’s only two days’ travel on foot from here to reach the ruins.”

After travelling through the Dales most of the day, they come across the remains of the Dalish encampment, not far off the track in the forest. The elves’ aravels are circled around the remains of a campfire in a shallow pit, long since turned to cold ashes. The carcasses of at least one carthorse lies outside the circle of wagons, picked over by forest scavengers, and the wagons themselves (as well as the debris scattered around) show signs of a struggle. 

Darius and Solange spearhead a quick search of the camp, but they don’t seem to find much. Some of the wagons show signs of being broken into, smashed or kicked in. Hoof prints show that most of the carthorses ran off at some point, probably panicked by the attack. 

By the time the group finishes their search, night begins to fall. As shadows darken toward night, a faint, wheezing and mocking laughter seems to drift out of the trees. All of the adventurers seem to suffer from their own unnatural fear, ill-equipped against the laughter. 

“Revengers!” Eshara shouts, reaching for her blade. 

The chuckling gets louder as jackal-like creatures surround the party before bursting from the shadows in an attack. Darius, startled, flings his hands forward, shooting a barrage of flame at the revengers. The rest of the party quickly joins in battle. 

The fight is ferocious, but swift. After besting more than half of the revengers, those remaining flee into the forest. While they catch their breath, Solange bends forward to examine the fallen foes. In death, the revengers revert back their original forms: the missing Dalish, normal elves bearing the same wounds as the slain darkspawn. Eshara drops to her knees, crestfallen. 

Despite the terror of the forest, the party agrees to stay at the Dalish camp for the night. They endure a fitful sleep. 

The next day, they come to a massive tree that has fallen across a deep chasm, forming a natural bridge to the far side. The chasm appears to be nearly a hundred feet deep, with a river rushing across tumbled rocks below. There is no way to get around this chasm, not for miles. And to make matters worse, a flock of bloodcrows, forest creatures corrupted by the abomination Mythallen, hover above. 

The party nervously idles. Darius is the first brave enough to cross, indeed overly confident. Taking not even two steps, he slips and falls from the trunk, a terrified shriek escaping him; he manages to hang on to a thin branch by one hand, but even that threatens to snap, sending him to his death. 

James dashes forward to help, heaving the shaken mage from his certain end. Darius manages a nod in thanks. 

So the party regroups, strategizing the best way across. Man-Cheetah and Solange realize they have rope from their last visit to the shops; the group agrees to tie one rope to the brave soul willing to cross, with Solange holding the other end. James, the only one with a ranged weapon, decides to fend off the bloodcrows. 

Man-Cheetah and Darius make their way across the bridge with Eshara. With each slip, with each near-death, they strengthen their resolve, most of all Solange. From her position at the start of the path, her arms bulge with the effort of keeping her comrades alive. Even her veins, normally far below the skin’s surface, lace her neck and forearms, her face growing redder with each passing moment. 

From his vantage point, James tries his hardest to pick off as many bloodcrows as he can manage. After a time, he grows frustrated with his lack of solid kills, but maintains focus for the sake of the party’s survival. Darius, now safely on the other side of the chasm, takes over the task so that James can cross. 

Lastly, breathing like a hearty bull, Solange strides across the fallen tree to join the rest of the group. 

A much darker energy washes through the adventurers, coming to fully realize the grave danger they face. They can only take a few moments to rest, however, as Eshara reminds them that her people’s time is running out. 

So the party makes its way down into a narrow valley, at the far end of which is the ruins of what looks to be an ancient stone keep. Only the floor is intact, and it’s lacking a roof and largely filled with rubble, some of which has been cleared away to reveal a stone staircase leading down. 

They move down the stairs into the basement of the ancient keep. Smashed furniture and broken, decaying weapons litter the floor. There was a battle here long ago, that much is clear. In the darkness they can just make out the bones of the dead, but they do not rest quietly. Skeletons stare at the trespassers, their sockets empty but their hate palpable. The keep has guardians still.

The heroes leap into battle, exhausted from their trials. Despite their fatigue, they fight bitterly, dodging the skeleton’s spears and the arrows from one’s longbow. 

Exasperated, Solange screams, “Who put you on this planet?!” as she dispatches one of the skeletons, heaving her mighty sword down upon it with a “Huh!” 

At the end of the battle, the group hears cries coming from down one corridor off the main chamber, in both the trade tongue and elvhen. 

They quickly begin searching for a way to reach them, Eshara most passionately. They find a door that leads deeper into the keep; Man-Cheetah approaches without caution, finding a tripwire in his haste. A rusty dagger falls and scrapes him horribly. Darius handles the trap, shaking his head in disappointment at the obvious misstep. 

The corridor beyond leads to the rest of the keep’s basement. The group tries a door on the right side of the corridor, but finds them to be empty and ruined, their original functions indiscernible in the wreckage. 

The cries come again, this time more clearly on the other side of the corridor. They try a door to the left, finding the keep’s dungeon. Behind its ancient bars are the remaining members of Eshara’s clan, mainly women and children, and those able to resist transformation into revengers. The imprisoned elves are tired, dirty, hungry, and frightened.

“Keeper Orellis!” Eshara says, rushing forward to an elf in the most elaborate robes, similar to Dhara’s. His hair is silvery white, and his face is beginning to show lines and wrinkles that would, in a human, be the signs of middle age. Still, he appears to be the eldest in the clan. He, alongside the others, wears a vallaslin upon his cheekbones and forehead, a web of winding branches. 

Upon seeing Eshara, the clan warms to the group immediately, reaching their hands out to their lost lethalin and the adventurers alike. Man-Cheetah and Darius work to open the prison doors while Solange asks the Keeper about what has happened to them. 

“Mythallen and his remaining darkspawn left the ruins just hours before you all arrived here, vowing to bring a terrible vengeance upon the humans of Vintiver,” the clan leader explains, his voice grave. “You must know the abomination’s true identity. We know him as Harralan, a skilled hunter and tracker of our clan. Yet Harralan has a great temper and a certain amount of arrogance about his abilities; he yearns for the time when elves were a greater society than we are now. I do not know how, but when I sent Harralan into these forests to cool his anger, he was transformed, taking one half of our Mother Mythal’s name to become Mythallen... a child of vengeance.”

“We must reach him in time,” Eshara says quietly. 

“Wait,” says an elf, a young man with a bow strapped to his back. He steps forward.

“Lirresh?” the Keeper allows. 

“I know a more direct route back to the village. It’s not one Mythallen likely used. If you’re willing to risk the hazards of the forest to get back in time, I can guide you.” 

As the group looks around at what remains of Eshara’s clan, they realize that a battle with Mythallen might require more than the help of one Dalish hunter. 

Solage steps forward. “Who among you is willing to help us save your people, and the people of Vintiver?”

“Aye!” Man-Cheetah pounds a fist to his chest. “Who will join us?”

Some exchange glances. The last of the able-bodied hunters, two young elves, join Lirresh’s side. 

“I will help my people out of this keep,” Orellis says. “Eshara, go with them. Dareth shiral, da’len.” 

Just before the party makes to leave, James takes Orellis aside. 

“Have you seen a human woman travelling alone in these forests? I’m looking for my wife.”

The Keeper places his hands solemnly over the man’s own. “I am sorry, dear shemlen. My clan and I have been preoccupied with Mythallen and our own safety. I have not seen your wife; but I wish you luck in all battles ahead. Dareth shiral.” 

Meanwhile, Darius casts a glance at the end of the corridor, feeling an odd pull towards one last chamber. He, Solange, and Man-Cheetah make their way to it, a small, circular chamber with an arcane circle inscribed in its floor. 

“This must be where Eshara took the link,” Solange says. 

A strange light emanates from Darius’s garb, where the link rests in his pocket. He feels it briefly spark with power. 

The three look between one another, confused, without a word.

So the party takes their leave of Eshara’s clan. Lirresh leads them from the keep, past the chasm - where the bloodcrows are too thinned to attack. He strikes out into the deep forest, off the main trails, as night begins to fall once again. The deepening twilight lends a sense of menace to the looming trees and the trail is only barely visible from some ancient, cracked cobblestones hidden beneath the undergrowth and moss. 

Suddenly, a few of the adventurers stumble into  a giant web stretched between the trees, nearly invisible in the dark; the web’s strands are sticky, and those stuck realize that they are unable to move. Those unstuck quickly brace for whatever created the web.

A giant spider, likewise corrupted by Mythallen’s presence, attack the prey stuck in its web, scuttling down the strands, eager to feast on such large creatures. 

With the hunters’ help, the party manages to grapple free of the web and face the spider. The arachnid fights fiercely, extending its poisonous fangs to the horribly exhausted group of fighters. But, at long last and with nearly-fatal results, the party dispatches the creature. 

Yet, the group can’t help but notice it’s body begin to quiver, as if still alive...

[daroguecampaigndiary]

The Dalish Curse: Chapter One

Disclaimer: If you plan on playing The Dalish Curse campaign in your own group, be warned that this re-cap is riddled with spoilers, This is the fifth installment of the campaign: Invisible Chains // Ashes to the Waking Sea 

The Grand Cathedral looms over the skyline of Val Royeaux, an impressive feat in such a glittering, ornamented city. Despite the somber mood within the party, the warrior Solange, mage Darius, and Avaar Man-Cheetah cannot help but awe at its grandeur. After all, this monument was dedicated to the seat of power within the Chantry: the Divine. 

Man-Cheetah had received direct orders from Dhara to meet at the Grand Cathedral after helping Solange and Darius at Chateau de Vedel. The trio had made their way once again through the lively, winding streets of Val Royeaux to reach it and discover their first directives as members of Dhara’s organization. 

As the party approaches the building, they see Dhara, now more plainly dressed in garb any city elf would wear, gesturing wordlessly for them to follow her. She ushers them into a benign-looking gate at the side of the entrance, which leads to a basement chamber long forgotten. Inside, two figures stand half-cloaked in darkness; one is clearly the outline of the Divine herself by the shape of her Chantry hood. 

“Allow me to present Divine Victoria and her right hand,” Dhara says, gesturing to the mysterious figures. They step forward at the introduction. The Divine lowers her hood, revealing a young woman with a red bob and a pointed chin. Her companion, the right hand, has a much more square jaw and sharp, angled eyes, her dark hair chopped short. 

“Oh, please,” the Divine says, her accent thick and obviously Orlesian. She addresses the party. “There’s no need for formality here. Call me Leliana. And this is Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.”

The other woman scoffs. “As you say, just ‘Cassandra’ is fine.”

“Cassandra has rebuilt the Seekers into her own organization, working as the right hand of the Divine,” Dhara says, returning her attention to the party. “We are essentially all that’s left of the Inquisition. We have no official name, and we operate with as few of Leliana’s scouts and Cassandra’s Seekers as possible.”

“And we’d like to keep it that way,” Leliana chimes in. “I assume you’re ultimately here because of an Inquisition flyer? While we like to distance ourselves from that title, it’s helpful to add to the propaganda that’s been circulating with our own legitimate information. Despite needing to keep our numbers low, we want mercenaries to take an interest. Hired vagabonds are harder to trace when compared to a legion of believers.”

Cassandra steps forward impatiently. “Enough idle chat. We are investigating ways to defeat a looming threat, a rogue mage with enough power to end the world. We cannot disclose too much with you just yet, but he is powerful and cunning, hence the need for secrecy and limited numbers.”

“Our next place of investigation is in the Dales, with the coming of Arlathvhen,” says Leliana. 

“It’s a meeting of Dalish clans that happens once every several years,” Dhara fills in. 

“We believe the mage’s plan may have something to do with the sudden lyrium disappearances, as well, though we’re still unsure of the connection,” Leliana continues. “For now, we need you to travel with Dhara into the Dales to meet with her clan. Your main objective is to make her appear as inconspicuous as possible; you must all play the part of nondescript travelers.” She reaches into her robes, retrieving a rolled-up note and handing it to Darius. “Before I forget: my spies intercepted this note from an elven gang leader in Halamshiral. I assume it’s for you.”

Darius reads aloud:

Word travels fast through the Indigo Road, you know. I heard that you and your cronies lopped Blaen’s head off and gave it to the Elevated Brotherhood. Ballsy. 

But, congratulations are in order. With Blaen dead, and no one to run the lyrium trade, you’ve effectively put yourself in charge of the Bleakwatch. I guess that means I answer to you now. Whatever you need us to do, we’ll handle it for you. Just let me worry about the lyrium and whatever’s left of the Indigo Road - I’m skilled to handle it.

Your servant,

Shesalla

The three glance between one another, remembering their elven companion’s lust for power. The note, clearly meant for Welfin, is tucked away into Darius’s robes. 

Dhara, already done spreading her map out on the table before them all, leans over to point at Val Royeaux with her index finger. “The journey into the Dales will take about seven days. If you’re ready, we should depart now.” 

So the party makes their goodbye to the Chantry figures and stops only to prepare for their journey in the city’s shops. Man-Cheetah seems to have purchased just a few healing kits, until he emerges from what looks to be a pet shop with a bounding dog. Solange, immediately taken with the animal, asks, “What’s his name?”

Man-Cheetah replies joyfully, “Olaf.”

On the outskirts of the city, Darius stops to retrieve mounts for each of them. Dhara rides with Darius, minimizing her visibility. Then they leave the city and begin their journey deeper into the southern forests. 

The first few days pass smoothly. As they venture further in, however, they have several run-ins with wolves, packs of vicious, agitated animals. They hurl themselves at the travelers, and the party is quick to respond. 

Darius snaps his fingers ostentatiously, obliterating one of the wolves in a fiery display. Solange, still in the midst of her own conflict, whirls around at the noise and shouts, “What the?!”

Man-Cheetah, entirely pleased by the battle, takes a defeated wolf by its jaws and pulls the jowls apart, singing a hearty song of masculinity popular with the Avaar people as blood explodes into the air. He then stands and points to the next wolf. “Get out of here, you stupid, dumb animal!” 

During their last battle with the wolves, Man-Cheetah gleefully chants an Avaar war-cry, a screeching made with the tongue, while he dispatches the last of them, the rest of the party stood aghast at his ferocity. 

But at last, after the seven days of travel through the Dales and with plenty of wolf pelts in tow, the party makes it out of the dense forest. In fact, they happen upon what looks to be a farm. They notice a flock of carrion crows all circling over a body. As they get closer, the body is bloodied terribly, and there are signs of carnage all across the farm, with more bodies strewn about. A pack of blight wolves lope through the farm. 

The group is ready to respond, and they quickly dispatch the blighted creatures, taking their pelts, as well. Though it would appear that the wolves were the cause of death for the farmers, the party notices that they did not kill them. Seven male bodies are flayed in the yard, and as the adventurers enter the farmhouse, they note three more dead bodies: a woman, a young girl, and an infant. There are claw and bite marks inconsistent with the wolves, as well as doors broken in by forceful blows. The floors and earth are sticky with blood. 

Solange reaches her hand up to a wall inside the main room of the farmhouse, where there’s writing in the blood of the slain. The others crowd around her to see. It is just one word in elvish script, and Solange says it aloud: “Mythal.” 

Dhara solemnly places her hand over the word, and says, almost under her breath, “The elven god of vengeance.” 

The party moves on to the barn, where the animals still seem to be alive, including an aging workhorse. As they pace inside, a low moan sounds from somewhere inside the barn. Frantic, they search for the source of the voice. 

Hidden under the hay in the loft is a young elf woman with a nasty, inflamed wound in her side, her clothes torn and covered in blood, dirt, and stray bits of hay and straw. As the group approaches, she tries to flee them, but only manages a feeble crawl before she passes out. 

They quickly attempt to resuscitate her, or else heal her wounds. Luckily, they succeed in stabilizing her; she visibly relaxes but remains unconscious. As they take a closer look, her wound is a set of four closely-spaced gashes along her side, apparently made by claws, and her clothing shows that she is a Dalish elf. Her wound is consistent with those suffered by many of the family found on the farm - it seems the same creatures attacked her. She carries nothing on her person except for a small leather pouch at her waist that holds a heavy link, forged out of silver, about the size of the man’s hand. It has been broken by some great force. 

Darius takes it in his hands, examining the strange object. “There are magical etchings all over the surface. I can feel a residue of the power the link once contained... but I can’t feel its nature.” 

Dhara hangs back as the group look between each other, confused. Darius pockets the link. 

“Come on,” says Solange, “let’s get this girl some help. There has to be a village nearby.” 

Indeed, they happen upon a village, Man-Cheetah carrying the elf woman over his shoulder. Before they can reach the village proper, however, they are met by what appears to be an angry mob. A swarm of villagers walk toward the group, agitated further by the sight of the elf. At the front of the group, a large, gruff man leads the mob, clearly the spearhead of the effort. 

The party hears people gasping, shouting accusations and rumors. 

“Why did she survive?”

“What was she doing at Fuldor Farm?”

“Dalish witch!”

“She came to lure the men out into the open!”

“She led the attack!”

“Sorceress!” 

“Cast her out!”

“Execute the dirty knife-ear!” 

“Protect Vintiver!” 

Clearly overrun, Solange charges ahead. “Calm down or I’ll bash your heads in!”

This manages to quiet down the mob, though they still seethe together. Darius comes up behind her, holding up the pelts of the blight wolves. 

“You see? We’ve defeated the creatures that attacked your farm!” he cries, though his words fall mostly on deaf ears. 

In the newly-made silence, Solange takes an opportunity to speak. “There is a great evil coming! Let us pass.”

It takes several more attempts to disperse the crowd, with no help from the leader of the mob, who reveals himself as Coalan. But, at long last, the party does manage to talk down the villagers, and, begrudgingly, they dissipate. 

Coalan practically stomps his feet, a petulant child, before moving on, muttering under his breath. Darius and Man-Cheetah make a silent agreement to follow him. Solange and Dhara then take the girl in search of an inn. 

It doesn’t take long before Coalan reaches a forge; he enters with the confidence of a tenant, clearly the village blacksmith. Not far behind, Darius motions for Man-Cheetah to follow his lead before entering themselves. 

Darius takes up his own brand of Tevinter confidence and bids the man a good evening. “Would you be willing to make weapons for me and my companions?”

Coalan spits on the ground before their feet. “Not to you. Not after you let that knife-ear back in our midst! You’d do best to leave my forge right now.”

Before Darius, flabbergasted, can answer, the door to the forge opens again, this time revealing a broad man with a leather coat and a Warden’s crest upon his lapel. 

“Coalan, what’s this I hear about - ?” the man starts before noticing the two adventurers. “Ah, and who might you be?”

“Traitors, say I,” Coalan says. 

The man shoots Coalan a dark look before returning his attention cordially to the other two. “I am Tarl Dale, the Warden of Vintiver. Ignore Coalan here - he’s a brute with a nasty temper. Come, let’s talk outside.” Tarl points a finger at Coalan. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Outside, Tarl turns to the party in earnest. “Now, can you men explain to me what went on this afternoon? I’ve heard talk of a mob.”

Darius and Man-Cheetah recount their days’ adventure: finding Fuldor Farm and the elf girl hidden inside, and bringing her to Vintiver only to find an angry crowd with Coalan at its head. 

“I see.” Tarl runs a hand over his shaggy beard. “You see, a Dalish clan made their way through here recently, but their stay ended on bad terms. Coalan had a row with one of their hunters. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. In the meantime, you two should find lodgings, if you haven’t already. See that the elf is made well; come see me if you have any more trouble.”

Safely stowed in the Arbor Inn, Solange stands watch over the elf girl. Dhara kneels beside her bed, tending to her wounds and whispering in elvhen. This goes on for some time before, at long last, the girl’s eyelids flutter open, and she sits up with a sharp inhale. 

Dhara holds the girl’s shoulders to steady her. Solange quickly makes her way over and kneels, too. Confusion sweeps over the elf’s expression. 

“You’re safe,” Dhara offers. Her voice is uncharacteristically calm and warm; the girl appears instantly relieved to see one of her people. 

“I’m Solange, and this is Dhara. What happened to you?”

Weak, the girl blinks before sucking in a deep breath. “I am Eshara. I should start from the beginning:

“Our clan visited the village just two weeks ago, on our way to Arlathvhen and during their harvest festival. We were welcomed, at first, but there was a bit of trouble: some of the locals had too much to drink, and there was a confrontation with some of our young men. Harralan, one of our hunters, attacked the blacksmith. The warden separated them before it could get out of hand, but the damage was done. We were no longer welcomed here, and we moved on. 

“Harralan was angry at our treatment, but our Keeper assigned him the duty of scouting as we made our way through the forests of the Dales, to give him time to cool off. He was the first to disappear - he simply didn’t return from his scouting one night. 

“Then others began to go missing, as did the ones sent to look for them. The Keeper decided we should go back, but by then it was too late. Three days after Harralan disappeared, before we could reach the edge of the forest, they attacked our camp: darkspawn emerging from the trees in the dead of night. My people were taken. Those who fought were beaten or killed. I was captured along with the rest, taken to an ancient ruin in a rift valley deep in the forest, far off the trails. The master of the darkspawn is a creature, an abomination. He calls himself Mythallen.”

“‘Child of vengeance,’” Dhara says, almost to herself.

Eshara continues, “I was brought before him, and then taken to his chambers. I managed to escape, taking the broken link of silver I found laid out as if on a shrine.

“The darkspawn pursued me, accompanied by a pack of baying beasts. I was wounded, but managed to avoid them, hiding among the trees and gullies in the forest for more than a day, always moving, never resting for long. I stumbled upon the farm where you found me and managed to conceal myself in the hayloft. I heard some of the farmers coming... The darkspawn must have attacked. I remember the terrible screams... Then nothing... until you found me.

“Please... you must help my people! Mythallen and his creatures must be stopped!” 

The excitement strains Eshara’s exhaustion, and Dhara shushes her, lowering her back into the bed as she falls unconscious. 

That night, after Darius and Man-Cheetah return from Coalan’s smithy, Solange recounts Eshara’s tale. The party decides to go back to Fuldor Farm to keep watch for the darkspawn that may return for Eshara. They take Eshara’s clothes and give her the gown Solange wore at the gala back in Val Royeaux; Dhara agrees to stay with Eshara as the party ventures off. 

When they arrive at the farm, they clothe one of the bodies with Eshara’s attire as a decoy. Solange keeps watch with Man-Cheetah in the barn. 

For many hours, and all through the night, the two wearily watch on as nothing happens. They begin to lose morale, thinking that their first major lead has been lost. 

Just as Darius wakes and dawn spreads across the sky, however, the party sees figures approach in the distance. Coalan, followed by his cronies, bound across the field and up to the barn, having seen Solange and Man-Cheetah far in advance. It’s clear they had intentions of an ambush, or else to snuff out Eshara before alerting her clan and furthering their “Dalish plot.” 

Darius goads Coalan on inside the barn, as Solange and Man-Cheetah sneak their way further outside. Consumed by his temper, Coalan charges into the barn just as Darius sets it on fire, then sprints outside, leaving the would-be attackers trapped inside with treacherous flames slowly mounting. 

The three ignore the terrified shouts as they prepare for what may come. Coalan manages to break the door down - but Darius is quick to cast Winter’s Grasp, keeping the entire door frozen and those trapped inside without an escape. It can’t hold for long, though, and one villager is able to free himself. The party descends upon him, quickly knocking him unconscious and practically torturing the man with attacks to sensitive parts and a miraculous, treacherous show of pouring hot tea into his eyes. 

The rest of the barn burns in a horrifying display; just as it seems the door to the barn is about to succumb to ash, Coalan and the others escape with only seconds, fear more than anger burning in their expressions. Darius then sets the outside of the barn on fire, adding to the chaos. Even as the other attackers attempt to run, the party cuts them down, leaving all but Coalan and their torture victim dead. 

A little aghast at their swift and volatile actions, the group takes a moment to gather themselves - and their unconscious companions - and decide how to subvert their situation to their benefit. After all, the growing plume of charcoal smoke rising in the morning air was sure to draw the wrong kind of attention, already distrusted by most of the village. 

So they drag the bodies back to Warden Tarl’s house, Solange taking the lead in this subterfuge. She makes a great show of sobbing, knocking on the warden’s door with shaking shoulders. Darius and Man-Cheetah do their best to look sullen behind her. 

When Tarl opens the door, his eyes dart frantically between Solange and the two disfigured bodies lying on the ground. “What - ?!”

“They tried to hurt us!” Solange says, doing everything save collapsing into the man’s arms. “We went back to the farm to make sure there weren’t any more darkspawn, and they came and they tried to kill us!”

“Calm down,” Tarl said, taking her by the shoulder and leading her inside to sit down. “Here, bring them inside. I’ll tend to them.”

Darius and Man-Cheetah unceremoniously drag Coalan and his cohort into the house. 

“I know Coalan has a mighty temper, but I never thought him capable of this,” Tarl says to them. “I apologize on his behalf. The village has been through a lot, but that’s no excuse. Don’t worry about a thing - I’ll tend to them until they’re able to tell me what I need to know.”

The party shifts uncomfortably. 

“Now, what did you find out about that elf girl?”

Solange tells the warden about what Eshara said to her back at the inn, and how they intend to aid her clan as best they can. Tarl gives the party his full support, in whatever way he can. 

Back outside, the party gives a collective sigh of relief. 

They return to Eshara in the inn, who seems to be more fully recovered, thanks to Dhara. She sits up in bed, raising a brow at the group’s singed appearance, but says nothing of it. 

“So? Will you help my people? I can guide you through the forest, if you like. Please, I must free them from Mythallen.”

Dhara holds Eshara’s hand in hers, looking to the group expectantly. 

Solange nods and steps toward her. “Yes, we’ll help your people.”

[daroguecampaigndiary]

Ashes to the Waking Sea

This is the fourth installment of the campaign. Read Invisible Chains here.

A knock came at the party’s lodging early the next morning. Before anyone could answer, a creme envelope slides beneath the door, bearing a blue wax seal. Solange and Darius are the only two awake, and so they investigate; Solange recognizes her family’s crest imprinted upon the seal, and nervously opens it to reveal a letter in curling script:

Dearest Solange,

     I know you have returned to Val Royeaux; how many years has it been since you last walked these streets? Your poor mother and father... but I get ahead of myself.

     Shortly after your departure, your home was besieged by bandits. They could not have been ordinary thugs, however - these bandits, nor your parents, were ever seen or heard from again. I have tried to investigate myself, but it is simply too dangerous for a man of my age to venture through that house alone.

     I beseech you, if you have any desire to bring honor back to this family name, enter Chateau de Vedel and discover what happened there.

                                                                                     Your uncle,

                                                                                     Comte Justien Vedel

After reading the note aloud, Solange looks to her companion, a mixture of hurt and confusion in her expression. Darius reluctantly agrees to assist her in searching her childhood home.

They walk together through the city until they reach the chateau, a grand townhouse on the outskirts of Val Royeaux, complete with a garden lawn. Passing through the front gates, the duo is alarmed to find an Avvar warrior decked in a horned helmet, furs, and a great axe loitering outside. 

“Oi, Lowlanders,” the Avvar calls out as Solange and Darius approach. “Dhara sent me to find you. Said you could use some help.”

Darius feigns deep offense. “And who might you be? Rather far from the Frostbacks, aren’t we?”

“I am one of Stone-Bear Hold. Lavellan aided my clan once; I offered to join her efforts here in the Lowlands in return. You can call me Man-Cheetah.”

Solange and Darius exchange glances at the odd Legend-Mark, but say nothing of it. Instead, Solange extends her hand to Man-Cheetah, and the three approach the house together. 

The entrance appears to be unlocked, as Solange tentatively takes the lead and pushes the front door open with a slow creak, an ominous sign that something is amiss. Inside the estate, the grand foyer is empty and dark. Dust covers the ground in a white blanket, undisturbed except for these newcomers. Darius and Man-Cheetah look to Solange for guidance; she leads them to the right, into her father’s office. 

A large desk sits in the center of the room, holding a spilled inkwell and a single note. Darius motions his fingers as if to excuse himself from investigating further. Solange takes it into her hands, recognizing her father’s handwriting, and reads:

Aline and I have been holed up in this damn office for hours. I don’t know what these thugs want, and if I did, I would certainly just let them have it. As far as I know, they’re here to kill whatever they find and loot the rest. Aline hasn’t been the same since Solange left - I can’t abandon her now. So I’ll take the lock from the safe here and place it on the entrance to the ballroom. That way, our riches will be wide open. Maker, I hope that’s all they want. If I run fast enough, I can scatter the four keys necessary to unlock the lock while Aline makes a beeline for the ballroom, all before the thugs finish taking from our safe. I hope. Let these not be my last words... Andraste preserve us both. 

Solange looks up from the note, noticing that her father’s safe is missing from the room. Her eyes dart around the office, clearly attempting to work out what could have happened. 

The three then exit the room, Solange naturally taking the lead; they pass a staircase to the far left of the foyer before making a right, and another right, ending in a set of double doors. Darius leans in to inspect what looks to be a set of four locks arranged over the knobs. 

“I could attempt to pick these, but we’d be here all day,” he says. 

“Hm.” Man-Cheetah crosses his arms, regarding the hallway. 

“My father’s note says there are four keys,” Solange replies. “We just need to find them. Come on.”

Solange leads them straight down the hallway into a door facing the ballroom. Inside, a long dining table and its matching, knocked-aside dining chairs sit in a sea of dust. All is quiet - except for a low grumble coming from deep within the room. 

A corpse lunges out from behind the table, coming straight for the party. The room erupts in a frenzy of combat. Solange, in a fit of rage, exacts a lethal blow against the undead, her sword slicing through its rotted manhood and against its torso in one swift motion. Quickly enough, the corpse is dispatched. It doesn’t take long before Darius, ever the curious intruder, finds the group’s first key. 

They move back toward the foyer and out into what appears to be a courtyard with a formal garden, searching the nearby flower beds and pots, long since dead. Before long, however, they are met by yet another emaciated enemy, a shadow of the former corpse. Solange is quick to act, arcing her sword below her and into the shade’s underside, instantly defeating it. After a short rest, Darius once again emerges successfully with a second key. 

Back inside, the group moves up the stairs to the second floor. Solange leads them to the right until they reach a small storage room, looting the few items left in her ransacked home before moving on to the master bedroom. 

Outside the doors, the three pause to listen. A low growl comes from within. 

“Who’s going in?” Solange asks.

“If you go in, we’ll wait here.”

“Yes, I’ll wait outside.”

Solange alone enters her parents’ bedroom. At first. With the rush of two shades on the attack, Darius and Man-Cheetah eventually make their way inside and join the fight. Before long, their enemies are defeated, and they are left alone in the cavernous, elaborate room. Darius wanders off inexplicably toward Aline’s vanity while Solange bends to pick up a note left on the floor:

Marcus has lost it. The boys all think so. I dunno why he dragged us into this crazy noble’s house - I heard the daughter snapped and started keeping people’s heads in her closet. It creeps me out. But Marcus says that makes them perfect for this ritual thing, and he’s an apostate, so I guess he’d know. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner I’m outta here, the better.

“I found another one!” Darius exclaims, yet another key in hand. 

The party then follows Solange out of the master bedroom and down the hall to her own bedroom. They listen again at the door, certain that they’ll hear the guttural sounds of the dead inside. Indeed, they do. This time, however, they agree to enter together.

An impossible four shades burst from the shadows, launching themselves at the heroes. Exhausted from their previous fights, the group looks haggard; Darius is brought to the brink of death again and again as Man-Cheetah and Solange take up the offensive. But before long, the party emerges victorious to find yet another journal page left on Solange’s bed. She reads:

I know Sebastien has told me not to go straight to the ballroom, but I couldn’t help myself. These may be my last moments, and I may never see my daughter again... how else can I say goodbye? She has disgraced the entire Vedel family with her abnormalities, but I still cannot help but remember her as the little girl who would whine if she had to be put into stockings, who demanded that her father teach her to be a chevalier just like him - I hear the bandits nearby. I think they have a mage among them, though I don’t know why they possibly would. It makes me more nervous than if they were simply thugs. 

Solange puts down the note as the group finishes searching the room, at long last finding the last key needed to unlock the ballroom. After a quick detour onto a balcony for a few hidden items, the party makes their way down the stairs to the ground floor and back to the ballroom. 

Darius enters each key one by one, until a mechanical churning sounds and the great double doors swing inward with a long creek. The group tentatively steps inside, weapons drawn in anticipation of a swarm of corpses. Strange markings cover the floor, and it appears as though a great blast erupted from its center.

Unaware of the danger, Darius walks directly onto the circle of markings, unleashing two greater demons from its center. Battle immediately breaks out as the demons attack the party. They are relentless - Man-Cheetah, despite his brute strength, is knocked unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Darius and Solange scramble to provide aid and keep him stable, fending for themselves all the while. Solange manages to wear the demons down, allowing Darius to finish them each off with an extravagant motion of his hands and a ridiculous exclamation. 

Once defeated, the demons’ bodies shrivel to reveal Solange’s parents before disintegrating into ash. Solange falls heavily to her knees, her sword clanging to the floor in a sharp echo. Digging her fingers into the ash, tears begin to fall down her cheeks silently. A paste forms from the ashes where they rest. 

“Mother,” she says. “Father. I won’t scatter your sorrow to the Waking Sea. I will always be with you. Plant your roots in me.” She runs a hand, fingers covered in chalky ash, slowly across her face, painting it white. “I won’t see you end in ashes. You are not demons.” 

Darius and Man-Cheetah stand idly by, politely at a distance and too off-put to look directly at the display of sorrow. After a shuddering breath, Solange reaches her ashy hands towards them. 

“Here, brothers.” Her fingers brush Man-Cheetah’s face; he stoically receives the gesture, and the ash mixes into his own Avaar paint. Darius makes to move out of the way, but Man-Cheetah, sensing the depth of symbolism, catches him with a fistful of ash to the face. It explodes against Darius’s cheek, a ghostly cloud. 

As the strange ritual passes, and as the three adventurers finish rolling in the Vedel’s remains, they see a single emaciated corpse sitting at the edge of the ballroom with a grimoire in its lap, presumably the mage Marcus. Darius examines it, a worried look crossing over his face. 

“This is a ritual to summon a very powerful figure,” he says. He turns slightly, rereading the page. “A god, even. He must have used your parents as a sacrifice. Clearly, it went horribly for him.”

“But why would they need my parents?” Solange asks, mostly to herself. 

Man-Cheetah appears next to her holding a delicately crafted great-sword. “I found this among their things. You should carry it.”

“The Superior Sword of Vedel.” Solange held the cold metal against her palm in awe. 

The three of them linger long enough to take anything remaining before taking their leave of Chateau de Vedel. For Solange, it very well may be the last time she’ll see her childhood home.

[daroguecampaigndiary]

Invisible Chains: Chapter 3

Disclaimer: If you plan on playing the Invisible Chains campaign in your own group, be warned that this re-cap is riddled with spoilers, and details the ending to the campaign. Unless you’re the dungeon master, you may not want to read this particular diary. 

Chapter One | Chapter Two 

Darius Wraithwain, having failed his attempt at besting Lady Sennova in the Game and attaining an invitation to her gala, finds that he is in luck the morning of the event. Half of the party is besieged by sudden illness, bedridden and unable to attend the gala; in the days previous, all but Darius managed to procure an invitation, some by forgery, some by sponsors. But now that most of the group has no need for their invitations, the surplus created in the illness’s wake means that Darius could gain entry after all. 

So it was that Darius, Welfin, and Solange, left their meager lodgings and made their way to Lady Sennova’s gala with a nervous Kynedrin in tow. Solange hangs on the arm of a young nobleman, who eyes his escort with adoration, even as they pass the doorman - much to the lady warrior’s chagrin. Welfin and Darius, meanwhile, present the sponsored invitations procured by the dwarven twins. The doorman locks eyes with Darius, but the two mages enter the gates with no trouble. 

Inside the estate, music wafts through the lofty halls from the courtyard, and nobles in grand, elegant attire speak in hushed whispers and dance. This strange mixture of sounds creates a heady atmosphere, weighed down by the dull flickering of candlelight in the hallways. Left to their own devices, the party quickly decides how to best spend their time before Blaen is due to meet with Ardal. 

“I can’t possibly follow you,” Solange says through gritted teeth, a hand still tucked in the crook of her escort’s elbow. “I must attend to my date. Come and find me later.” Then she disappears into the throng of velveteen nobles. 

The other two realize that they must fulfill the request of the sponsors if they wish to avoid their ire later. Welfin agrees to take on the task of embarrassing a Lady Evette’s rival publicly, while Darius takes off in search of another noble’s prize, his ancestor’s ring, lost at some point in a gambling debt. As the others disperse, Kynedrin wanders the gala on his own.

It does not take long for Welfin to discover the rival, an unassuming noblewoman, as she’s taking a flute of wine from a server. He approaches, holding out his right hand in greeting. 

“Good evening, my dear woman,” he says, his left hand disappearing into the nefarious pouch at his belt. “My name is Welfin. Lady Evette said you might be here.”

The woman ignores Welfin’s outstretched hand. “Ugh. I do not care what your name is.” She instead extends her wine pointedly. “I thought I had asked one of you to fetch me more wine minutes ago. It took you much too long - I had to take some from one of these trays, and who knows what sort of variety Lady Sennova keeps for the common areas...”

While the noblewoman rants, Welfin removes his left hand from the pouch, newly covered in excrement, and smears the substance on the backside of her skirts. Then he sniffs conspicuously around her person. 

“Something smells rather strange... did you just soil yourself?” he asks, loudly enough to alert the rest of the room. 

An audible gasp escapes the other nearby party-goers, and they all turn their noses away from the strange display. The noblewoman, despite vehement protests, is unable to salvage the situation, and so she flees the gala. Rumors and stories of her downfall pervade the social gatherings of Val Royeaux for the next year. 

After having scouted much of Lady Sennova’s estate, Darius manages to find what seems to be the only locked door. Perhaps because this area is barred from the public, there are less people here, and Darius approaches unnoticed. He attempts to pick the lock, taking the tip of a knife blade to it; something snaps, but the lock remains intact. Darius looks warily down each end of the hallway, but, luckily, it appears that no one noticed his attempted break-in. Bolstered by this, he tries again. The lock snaps audibly, but this time comes undone, and Darius enters through the door. 

The room beyond is dark, and a few portraits and objects lay in the open. Then Darius sees a small glass case at the far end. As he approaches, he can just make out a small ring nestled in a cushion underneath the glass. The case, too, is locked, but Darius has much better luck springing this one, and he easily slips his hand beneath the lid and secures the ring. As an afterthought, he scribbles yet another vague and anonymous note addressed to Lady Sennova and places it in the glass case before closing it and exiting the room. 

Back in the common rooms of the gala, Welfin and Darius meet and locate Solange, still tangled with her escort. As she spots the two men, she frantically waves them over, covering her behavior with a smile. 

“Welfin, I heard about what happened with Lady Evette’s rival.” Solang lowers her voice. “Can you do the same thing with my escort? We need to get moving.”

Welfin grins impishly, already reaching into his pouch. The young nobleman doesn’t notice when the elf smears feces across his trousers, once again filling the space around them with a foul odor. The party makes a show of sniffing the air.

“Maker, did you have an accident?” Welfin exclaims to the audible gasp of the other gala attendees. The nobleman, despite his best effort to deny it, meets the same fate as his predecessor, and flees the scene without so much as a glance at Solange. She gives a relieved thanks to Welfin as Darius scouts the gala for any sign of Blaen. 

Indeed, Darius spots Blaen making his way into the courtyard and beyond, on his way to the wine cellar, no doubt. As the party scans his movements, the Tevinter mage also notes a trio of hooded figures, dressed in the same colors as the Elevated Brotherhood agents they had run into before. He alerts the others as these Brotherhood members follow closely behind Blaen. 

Welfin steps forward, telling his companions to follow his lead. He blocks the Elevated Brotherhood’s path. 

“Wait,” he begins, “before you attack, I’d like to offer a deal. I have no quarrel with your group. I’m a mage, and my friend here is, as well. Naturally, we sympathize with mages. We’d like to work together with the Elevated Brotherhood.”

The leader of this triage appears skeptical, but does not react angrily. “And what exactly do you intend to do? Our agents spotted you speaking with Blaen. You appeared to be in league with him.”

“We are, and aren’t,” said Welfin. “We made a deal with Blaen in order to discover where a missing shipment of lyrium has gone, and to infiltrate his Indigo Road operations. But we’re not in league with him. If you leave without disturbing his deal tonight with Ardal, I promise you we’ll prevent the Purifiers getting their hands on that lyrium.”

“I see. There’s no way for us to trust you implicitly of course, so we will expect some form of proof of your success in this.”

“What do you need as proof?”

“Whatever you can give,” the agent said, a smirk visible despite the shadow of his hood. “You remember the courtyard where you slayed our brethren?”

The party grimaces before erupting into apologies. “That was an accident, we swear! They thought we were working with Blaen and - “

The Brotherhood agent holds his hands up peacefully. “We hold no grudge with you. But you are familiar with this place, yes?”

The group sheepishly agrees.

“Bring your proof there after the gala, and we will judge whether we can trust your words by your actions. If not...” The faintest threat hangs ominously. 

Welfin agrees, and the Elevated Brotherhood exit the gala, leaving the party ready to face Blaen and Ardal. They charge into the wine cellar to find a confused Ardal surrounded by Purifier agents, and an agitated Blaen accompanied by three lackeys. 

“Who are these people?” Ardal asks, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. 

“They’re supposed to be watching the entrance to the wine cellar for our enemies,” Blaen replies, whirling to face the party. “What are you doing down here? Has the Elevated Brotherhood been disposed of?”

Welfin takes the lead once again. “No, we haven’t seen any sign of them. But if they decide to enter, we can cut them off in the stairwell and they’ll be overwhelmed.” 

Blaen appears satisfied, but not Ardal. “You have a random group of mercenaries - two of them mages - to stand guard? It looks to me as if you may have been fooling us after all. You’re working with the Elevated Brotherhood, aren’t you?”

Blaen stands agape. “What? Of course not - “ 

“Oh? I thought that he was working for the Brotherhood, or am I mistaken?” Darius chimes with the silky deception of his homeland. 

The others pick up on Darius’s lead, and soon all three of them are talking over each other, clearly aggravating Ardal further as he’s unable to follow the information being purposefully confused before him. Eventually, he unsheathes his sword with a roar. 

“Thats it!” he cries, and points the tip of his sword at Blaen. “I don’t trust this. You must be working with the Elevated Brotherhood. And for that, I can’t let you live.” 

In seconds, the room erupts in a clash of swords, rapiers, and maces. Ardal and his Purifier agents lunge for Blaen, and Blaen’s duelists attack the party. Blaen, for all his prowess, poses no match for Ardal, and after a few harsh blows, Blaen looks visibly shaken. He backs his way to the door of the cellar, eyes frantically glancing about the battle, before he sprints out of the room. Darius quickly casts a few immobilizing spells as a trap, and Solange leaps from the room in pursuit of Blaen. Welfin takes the rear, shooting arcane lances at the remaining agents. With a few traps set at the doorway of the cellar, those left alive are stuck within, corked like a wine bottle. 

In the narrow stairwell, Solange manages to swipe a few blows as Darius continues to attack with magic, slowing Blaen down. Eventually, the noble is overwhelmed, and dies at Solange’s hand. Welfin shouts for her to once again decapitate the corpse, keeping the head for proof of their promise to the Elevated Brotherhood. Solange nods in agreement, and ties the head to her belt.

“The effects of the spells will wear off in about three minutes,” says Darius. “We need to get out of here!” 

Welfin kills a straggling agent in the stairwell. “Let’s go!”

The party bounds up the stairs, launching themselves back into the estate and the gala. They make their way only a few steps before Lady Sennova and a line of armed guards cut them off. 

“Well, well,” Lady Sennova says, looking between the group beneath her elaborate mask. Her eyes rest particularly on Darius. “Hello again, my dear.”

Welfin reaches into his pouch, but Lady Sennova snatches his wrist up before he can soil her dress like the others. “And what do we have here?” 

“You should know you have a cellar full of angry Purifers,” Welfin says. “We need to take care of that.” 

Lady Sennova ignores him. Solange attempts to hide Blaen’s head beneath the folds of her skirts, although it’s too late. “I must say, I’m rather impressed with your abilities, between infiltrating my little event, disrupting a major deal between such significant factions, and killing Blaen.”

“What are you going to do with us?” Welfin practically spits.

“I’m willing to overlook the damage done. Provided you’re able to... conduct business for me. You see, I’m interested in the lyrium, but I’m not interested in dirtying my hands with distribution. You are all in my debt - I could easily hand you over to these guards, who may do with you as they wish. Or even down into the cellar full of men more than willing to kill you. But work for me, and I’ll see that you live.”

The party glances between each other, considering the situation faced before them.

“I would be cautious, Lady Sennova. You may ending up causing more trouble for yourself than it’s worth.”

Dhara makes her way down the dimly-lit hallway, dressed in what looks like strange elven formal attire mixed with armor. Sennova and her men are flabbergasted at why an elf, especially one so elaborately dressed, is entering the fray. 

Lady Sennova takes a step back. “And who, exactly, are you to be wielding such surety? Shouldn’t you be in the servants’ quarter, preparing food for the guests?”

“Alas, no. I am Dhara Lavellan.”

“Lavellan?” Recongition crosses the noblewoman’s expression. “You’re the Inquisitor, then?”

Dhara’s lips turn up in a wistful smirk. “Former, unfortunately. I’m here on personal business, as it were. You should know that these individuals are under protection of the Seekers and the Chantry, and any deals you strike with them will go straight to the Sunburst Throne. I’m sure that’s something you might prefer to avoid.”

Lady Sennova is speechless, fuming.

“Right then.” Dhara turns to the party. “You can certainly choose to strike a deal with these upstanding people, although you might upset the proper authorities. Or you can follow me. I noticed the Inquisition propaganda when we met the first time, so I assume this would be a better option for you.”

Taken aback at the fast turn of events, the party pauses to consider. At last, though, they agree to join up with Dhara. She quickly dispatches her agents to arrest Lady Sennova, her guards, and the remaining thugs in the wine cellar before leading the group outside of the estate, dark except the lamps lit by the street.

Kynedrin bounds up to them then, grinning. “Thank you all for helping me. I can breathe easier knowing I’ve avenged my brothers. But now that’s done, I really need to get back to the Carta.”

Welfin sneers at the dwarf. “The Carta is next.”

“What?”

“I want control of the Carta.”

“The Carta isn’t any old mercenary group,” Kynedrin scoffs, confused. “You can’t just take over the Carta. Besides, you’re an elf.”

“We’ll see.” 

Kynedrin finishes saying his goodbyes and thanks warily before leaving on his own. When he disappears down the streets of the city, Dhara approaches them.

“If there are any last things you need to finish before we leave, now’s the time to do it. We’ll be moving out in about a day, maybe two. I’ll show you some better lodgings, if you wish to stay someplace more comfortable for the night. Otherwise, I’ll fetch you when it’s time.” Dhara turns to leave, but stops herself. “I didn’t take interest in you or recruit you necessarily because of your actions - mainly your skills. Once, perhaps, these things mattered more deeply, but we face something too large to get caught up in moral trappings. I’ll explain what we’re up against later, but for now, prepare yourself for the journey ahead.” Then she left, her bare feet padding softly on the stone ground. 

The courtyard is quiet as the party enters it, standing before the three Elevated Brotherhood members from the gala. Solange takes the lead, and rolls Blaen’s head from her belt to the ground before them. Welfin comes to stand beside her next, followed by Darius. 

“We’ve killed Blaen and prevented his deal with Ardal; he’s now in custody of the Inquisition - or, the former Inquisition, I suppose. The old Inquisitor captured them,” Welfin says.

“The Inquisitor?” the Brotherhood agent asks, removing his hood. “So the rumors are true?”

“We believe so,” replies Darius. 

“And are you working with them?”

“I think so.”

“So can we work together?” says Welfin.

The Brotherhood agent pauses dramatically,carefully considering the new information, before speaking. “Yes. Your proof is sufficient. You have done well.” 

“Excellent. How can we stay in contact with you? Where’s your base of operations?” Welfin asks. 

“We have headquarters all over Thedas,” the agent replies. “Our late leader, the one you so expertly defeated, was only one of several, luckily for our organization. As for maintaining contact, if you ever need to call on us, we’ll know where to find you.” The mages begin turning to leave, but Welfin stops them.

“But what if I need information from you? If you hear of anything going on in Thedas, I’d like to keep in closer contact. How do we get in touch with you?”

“If we hear of anything, we’ll certainly know where to send it,” the agent replies cryptically. 

Then the two groups part ways down the darkened corridors of the city.

Before stopping back to rest for the night, the party decides to pay a visit to Zevrin’s master’s house. When they approach, it appears that the elf took Welfin’s advice and fled with the other elven servants. Indeed, the place looks abandoned, the windows and doors boarded up and a notice tacked to the front door: 

UNDER QUARANTINE. The Val Royeaux City Guard is investigating. If you have seen any sign of these elves, please alert the nearest City Guard, on or off duty. - By the powers and jurisdiction of Empress Celine and Ambassador Brialla 

Zevrin’s picture, alongside the other servants’, appears beneath.

[daroguecampaigndiary]

When are the dragons coming? There's been 3 episodes and still no dragons...

[daroguecampaigndiary]

Invisible Chains: Chapter Two

Disclaimer: If you plan on playing the Invisible Chains campaign in your own group, be warned that this re-cap is riddled with spoilers. Unless you’re the dungeon master, you may not want to read this particular campaign diary.

Read Chapter One here.

“My name is Dhara,” says the female elf. “I’m investigating Blaen and his underlings on behalf of my spymaster. Since it seems we’re both heading in the same direction, why don’t we travel together? We may as well work as a team.”

The party slowly agrees, beginning to form a plan to track the mysterious footprints leading out of the Carta camp. It’s then that two more figures make their way into the light from the campfire: female dwarves dressed in elaborate armor, clearly the highest-quality Orzammar gear, nearly identical except for the crossbow one carries, and the sword the other holds. 

“We, too, are investigating the lyrium. We’ve had a shortage in the Deep Roads,” says one of the dwarves. “I’m Kale, and this is my sister Ginger. If you all are headed in search of the thief, we want to join you.” 

The rest of the group concede, and make introductions. With the formalities out of the way, Dhara unfolds a map from her belt and lays it on the ground for the others to see. 

“This is where we are now,” she says, pointing to a mark just below the Shining Sea labelled Halamshiral. She traces her index finger along the road leading north. “Those tracks lead to Val Royeaux. The journey will take us about six days.” 

The group takes that night to rest, and are ready to travel by morning. During the first two days, with Dhara’s helpful guidance, they keep good pace in their pursuit, easily following the horse tracks of the mysterious assassin. On the third day, they are besieged by two great bears, but, despite the delay, they begin the fourth day with the tracks still in sight. The fifth day, however, their luck runs out - due to the exhaustion of fast travel, they lose sight of their target. With just a day left till they reach Val Royeaux, the party journeys on. 

Upon entering the gilded city of Val Royeaux, Dhara leads the others into the main square, full of banners and shops and nobles scurrying on the cobbled walkways. Then she stops. 

“There’s something I need to investigate in the alienages nearby. You should all work on finding Blaen, though. We’ll meet up later; I’ll find you,” she says, and abruptly disappears own a corridor of the city. 

Left to their own devices, the party takes a moment to scrounge up whatever information they can on Blaen. Welfin takes an interest in the elves of the city, many of them servants to the great noble houses of Val Royeaux. He stops one and asks after Blaen and his whereabouts. 

The elf stares openly at Welfin and his filth, but answers as casually as he can. “Blaen? Oh, you can usually find him in the Sweetsong Brandy Parlor. He’s been talking to Lady Sennova a lot recently, although it doesn’t look like a romantic entanglement. It seems like they have a shared business interest. Someone saw them sharing a tense meal with Ardal recently.” 

“Excellent,” Welfin replies. Out of earshot of the others, he asks suddenly, “You work for a noble house, don’t you?”

“I - well, yes.”

“Do you want freedom?” 

“Of course, I suppose. But what can I do? The family I work for pays me well enough to get by, and they treat me and the other elven servants better than some.”

“I can get you the freedom you seek. If you hear anything among your fellow elvhen, tell me. I promise you, though it may not come right away, you will be free.” He then leans in to whisper into the elf’s ear, and something like recognition washes over the look in the servant’s eyes. 

The elf nods solemnly. “Dareth shiral.” 

Having learned where Blaen is, the group make their way to the Sweetsong Brandy Parlor. A bouncer and a few guards are posted outside. The bouncer raises an eyebrow at the disheveled party of adventurers, but the dwarven twins take control of the situation. 

“May we enter?” Ginger asks, displaying the intricate design of her elite armor as much as possible. 

The bouncer looks them all up and down, but shrugs. “Sure. But you better not cause any trouble. I will kick you out if you start anything.”

Once inside, the tavern appears to be full of nobles engaging in their own private battles in the Game. A bard sings quietly in the corner, something about the triumphs won by the once-great Inquisition. Solange scouts the room, noticing an unusually large group of men standing stiffly at a particular table, not engaging in drink or conversation. She begins to make her way over, but is startled when the man seated at the table waves his hand casually and declares loudly, “A round of drinks for my new friends here.” 

Kynedrin, still bent on avenging his brothers’ deaths, makes to charge Blaen, but Kale grabs hold of him and deposits him outside with the bouncer, aware of the dangers violence will have. In the same moment, a woman seated a few tables away stands suddenly, pulling the hood of her robes tightly around her, and makes a hasty exit. Solange, Darius, Blandon, and Hissra exchange a look, and decide to turn and follow the stranger. 

Welfin, Kale, and Ginger stay behind and choose to speak with Blaen. When they sit at his table, warily accepting the brandies he’s ordered, the masked noble seems barely able to contain his self-righteousness. “A good evening to you.”

“And to you,” Welfin replies, leaning in. “What can you tell me about your lyrium operation?”

“Ah, I see. Are you aware that you are trifling with the Carta? Or that you have inserted yourselves into a game with a player such as Lady Sennova?”

“We’ve heard of your Lady Sennova,” says Welfin, unphased. “Did you kill the dwarves camped in Halamshiral?”

“Me? No.” Blaen smirks. “Of course I would never. I had one of my best people look into the situation in Halamshiral for me.” 

“Are you aware of what happened in Halamshiral?”

Blaen pauses, setting his brandy on the table and surveying them behind his mask. “You have done exceptionally well in dismantling my operations with the Bleakwatch. That Shesalla was a risky choice, I will admit. Her kind are shifty, to say the least.” Blaen looks pointedly at Welfin. “I suppose you intend to head the gang yourself now?”

“I want control of the Bleakwatch, yes,” Welfin says. 

“Hm. Recent... events have led me to distrust my employees, and I am worried that something could ruin my future business ventures. Let me offer you a chance to prove your worth. I am to have an important meeting at Lady Sennova’s upcoming gala, in two days’ time. Infiltrate the event and prevent anyone from entering the wine cellar during my dealings. However, I don’t want you to appear affiliated with me in any way. Appearances, you understand. Should anyone ask, you work for another. I can pay you easily enough for your assistance, and give you control of the Bleakwatch. If you impress me, I will consider giving you a place in my organization.” 

“Agreed. But what is it you want, exactly, with the lyrium? Why Lady Sennova?” Welfin asks. 

Blaen carefully picks up his brandy, but doesn’t take a sip. “Do this favor for me, and perhaps we can discuss these... finer details. As I’m sure you understand, I have no way of trusting you yet.”

Welfin slumps back in his chair. “Fair point.”

“Good. A pleasure speaking with you. Now, make a scene, the crasser the better. We don’t want these patrons to believe we’re in line with one another, no?”

Kale shrugs and makes to sock Welfin in the jaw. Within a few moments, the bouncer is inside, roughly pulling the group outside of the tavern. 

The shadowy figure snakes her way through the pathways of Val Royeaux, seemingly unaware of the other figures following closely behind. At last, she seems to stop in an empty courtyard. The group makes to stealthily approach, but the stranger knows already she has been followed. She whirls, lowering her hood and revealing a staff. Three other figures jump from the shadows, swords and bows at the ready. “Why are you aligning yourself with Blaen? What is the Purifiers’s next move?”

Without waiting for an answer, the mage and her cronies unleash an attack on the party, and so a scuffle begins. Solange makes to keep the mage alive long enough to be interrogated, but before long she bleeds out and dies. The others are not so easy to fend off; the fight lasts long enough to do serious damage, and Darius must fight to stay alive. But eventually the party wins out, and Solange has the last attacker in her fist. 

“Who are you people, and why are you after Blaen?”

“We’re part of the Elevated Brotherhood,” the archer huffs, fighting to breathe. “Our leader was trying to figure out what Blaen wanted with Ardal. If the Purifiers get their hands on a steady supply of lyrium, they’ll be that much more powerful than us, and mages everywhere will be in danger.”

The group exchange glances once again, the significance of this not lost on them. 

“Thank you for your information,” Solange replies. Then she slits the Brotherhood member’s throat. 

“We should get back to the others and tell them what just happened,” Hissra says, and so the group heads back in the direction of the Sweetsong.

When the group meets back up with each other just outside the tavern, they fill each other in on the information each have missed. Once they’re caught up, the group realizes they need a way to get into Lady Sennova’s gala before they can do anything else. 

Once again, Welfin turns to a nearby elf for help. “You! Are you a servant for a noble house?”

“Er, y-yes,” the elf replies, startled. 

“Do you know if your master has received an invitation to Lady Sennova’s gala?”

“I’m not sure,” says the elf. “It would be in his study, and I’m not allowed to enter that room.”

Welfin takes him aside. “Do you want your freedom?”

“What? I guess so, but how is that even possible? I don’t make enough money to go anywhere else.”

“What’s your name?”

“Zevrin.”

“Zevrin, do you want your freedom? I can get you your freedom, in due time.”

Hope dares not creep into Zevrin’s expression. “Sure, but how could you even accomplish that? Where would I go?”

“For now, go to Halamshiral,” Welfin says. “Find the Bleakwatch, and tell them that Welfin sent you. Take any other elves that want to go. Remember the name of the trickster god in our people’s lore? If you praise him, as I do, you will get your freedom.”

Recognition crosses Zevrin’s face. He nods. 

“But for right now, I need you to do me a few favors. What do you know about the Elevated Brotherhood? Where’s their base of operations?”

“The Elevated Brotherhood?” Zevrin replies. “No one really knows where their headquarters is. It’s not in Val Royeaux, but that’s all I know.”

Welfin scowls. “If you find any other information about the Brotherhood or mages in the city, get it to me, okay? As for the gala invitation, do you think you can check your master’s study to see if he has one?”

Zevrin looks fearful. “No, I can’t do that! If anyone comes home and finds me in that room, I’m as good as dead! They could kill me on the spot.”

Kale impatiently steps forward. “What if we paid you seventeen silver pieces to sneak in and steal the invitation for us?”

It only takes seconds for Zevrin to agree. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

The party follows him to his master’s home, and within moments, Zevrin returns with an invitation. 

“Do you think you can make a few forgeries?” Welfin asks. 

“I can, but I’ll need money for the materials,” Zevrin replies, furrowing his brow. “I’ll need at least two gold pieces per invitation.”

The party sputters, quickly trying to do the math to see if they can afford that price. Welfin once again takes the elf’s shoulder. “Zevrin, do you think you can lower that? Remember your freedom...”

“I think I can do it for one gold piece each,” Zevrin says reluctantly. “But I can’t go any lower than that, or else they won’t look right and you’ll get caught.” 

The group gladly hands over two gold pieces, and Zevrin pockets the money. 

“It’ll take me about four hours to get both of these done. Come back later.”

Left alone now, the group tries to decide how to get their hands on other invitations. Darius immediately decides to head out on his own, in search of Lady Sennova and the hope that he can bribe her into allowing him entry. Solange decides to seek a willing escort, decked out in some newly-purchased finery, and the twins seek their own patrons, hoping to find a favor in exchange for an invitation. 

After several hours, all parties are successful: Solange found a young man in search of a companion for the gala, and the dwarves managed to make deals with two nobles (one who demands that they embarass a rival in the Game, and another who requests that they steal a ring belonging to his ancestor, the supposedly rightful owner). They all head in search of an inn for the night.

It takes Darius several hours to locate Lady Sennova’s estate, and several more to get the attention of her doorman. After leaving several vague anonymous notes, at last the servant approaches Darius, oddly crouched in the shrubbery, and allows him entry with a cryptic, “Lady Sennova will see you. If you will please follow me.”

He leads Darius into the foyer of the estate. It is dark, lit only by a few candles, and large blue curtains section off the entrance from the rest of the building, clearly in preparation for the gala. The doorman escorts Darius to a door just to the right of the front entrance, motioning for him to enter. 

Darius does so. Lady Sennova, masked, is seated behind a grand desk at the far end of the room, leaning casually. 

“My doorman has found your note,” she says to him, motioning for him to take a seat before her. “What exactly do you want?”

“Are you aware that Blaen has been making deals with Ardal?” Darius begins triumphantly. 

Lady Sennova smirks. “I should like to think so. I’m the one who introduced them, after all. Everything Blaen has done with the Purifiers has been under my watch.”

Darius is taken a bit aback, but remains composed. “Well then. Did you know of Blaen’s connections with the Bleakwatch? Or the group of ruffians who have barged in?”

“I know of Blaen’s methods,” Lady Sennova says carefully, “and I trust him. If these people are the means he sees fit, then I cannot mind. As for these so-called vagabonds, Blaen makes plenty of enemies, but has come out on top so far. So, again, I trust him completely.”

“Hm. I see.” Darius blinks, thinking. “Well, did you know that a member of the Elevated Brotherhood has been trailing Blaen?”

Lady Sennova doesn’t move a muscle. “I’m positive Blaen has everything under control. He’s given me no reason to doubt him.”

The two sit in an uncomfortable silence. Seconds tick by. 

“Well, you have told me nothing thus far that I did not already know. If you have nothing further to add, and you are quite finished wasting my time, my doorman will see you out. Good day.”

“Yes, good day.” Darius stands and follows the servant out of the estate and makes his way back through the city streets. He regroups with the others, mulling over a new plan to enter the gala. 

[daroguecampaigndiary]

Invisible Chains: Chapter One

Disclaimer: If you plan on playing the Invisible Chains campaign in your own group, be warned that this re-cap is riddled with spoilers, and you may not want to read this particular campaign diary. Only dungeon masters and casual readers should continue on.

Years ago, the second Inquisition stood as the greatest peace-keeping force in Thedas, saving the world from complete destruction. Pushed by the intimidation and fears of the Orlesian Empire and the Kingdom of Ferelden, the Inquisitor made the shocking decision to officially disband. It has now been one year since the end of the Inquisition. It is rare for anyone to mention the organization except in legend - or remaining contempt. However, some in Thedas have not given up hope that the Inquisition, in whatever form, remains. Propaganda, undetermined to be legitimate or false, circulates about the remaining agents of the Inquisition. Our heroes have somehow stumbled upon or obtained a leaflet describing these so-called agents, listing a meeting date and time in Halamshiral, once a great elven city that now rests in Orlais. They meet as strangers in an apparently abandoned alleyway. 

Five figures eventually cluster at the spot the leaflet points as the meeting place: Darius Wraithwain, a Tevinter mage; an elven mage named Welfin; Solange Vedel, a warrior in heavy Orlesian armor; Blandon, a rogue from Ferelden; and Hissra Plobl, a Qunari mage. They eye each other suspiciously, unwilling to give up their identities to each other just yet. Solange is the first to speak. “What exactly brings you all here?”

The group hesitates to answer directly, and they instead search the alleyway for any sign of who they’re supposed to meet. The alleyway, in return, is quiet, almost sinister - until a sharp cry sounds from the end of the alley, out of sight. When the party draws closer, they see a kidnapping of a dwarf in progress. Darius notes that, besides the thugs attempting the ambush in plain sight, there are more figures skulking in the shadows nearby, but it’s too late. Solange charges forward with the others trailing behind, sending the thugs from the shadows to aid their own. After some brawling, one thug is knocked unconscious, but the others manage to flee, dragging the dwarf with them. 

Solange towers over the remaining thug, blade poised at his throat, while Welfin, somehow managing to steal the shoes off the dwarf’s feet mid-battle and cover them in feces, slaps him awake. Horrified and intimidated, the thug admits that he’s from the Bleakwatch gang, and their target was a Carta dwarf who was trying to short them on the Indigo Road, a lyrium operation. He also gives them the location of their safe house, where the other gang members have no doubt taken the dwarf. Needing nothing else from the thug, Welfin (with a searing hate of humans, or shemlen) cracks the man’s knees, and Solange strikes a killing blow. 

When the party reaches the Bleakwatch safe house, they see that it’s made up of a cluster of row homes, scorched by fires. At the entrance, there is one disinterested guard on duty. The heroes attempt to stealthily and quietly take him out, but make far too much noise, causing the guard to take notice of their approach and engage in combat. Other Bleakwatch members are alerted by the sounds of fighting, and join the guard in battle. Despite the hiccup, the group manages to defeat the gang members and enter the compound courtyard, viciously cutting off the corpses’ heads and gouging their eyes; Solange ties the heads to her belt while Welfin wears the eyes around his neck, a disinterested Darius observing the carnage.

Darius, seeing the only nearby door, catches the conversation coming from within: A woman’s voice, frighteningly calm and even, asks, “Where are your brothers and where is my blue?”

A sputtering cry, obviously the dwarf’s, echoes, but he says nothing in reply. There’s the sounds of a scuffle, and another shout from the dwarf, but still no answer. 

“Did you think you’d cut us out of the Indigo Road, bypass us, try to fumble your way to Val Royeaux without our help, and pocket our share?” the woman said. “Do you think Blaen wanted you to do anything other than follow the same plan he put in place when this began?”

Welfin steps forward, obviously about to enter the interrogation room. 

“Last chance, Kynedrin. Because the Carta isn’t going to miss a smuggler. Not one as stupid as you.”

Welfin bursts through the door, swinging his soiled shoe in a grand display. The woman, an elf and now revealed to be at the center of a room full of other Bleakwatch thugs, towers over the tied-up dwarf, Kynedrin; she cocks her head and looks quizzically at the newcomers. Welfin bounds up to Kynedrin and rubs his face with the shoe, and the dwarf winces but remains silent out of fear.

“Your new Bleakwatch members have arrived!” Welfin exclaims. “Clearly, your other gang members are not competent enough, since we killed them all very easily, so I’m assuming you’re in need of our services.”

Miraculously, the woman looks intrigued. She extends her hand at first to Welfin, but seeing the stained slipper in his hands, changes course and approaches Darius. “The name’s Shesalla. I’m the leader of the Bleakwatch. And who, exactly, are you?”

Brief introductions are made, and the party asks to interrogate Kynedrin themselves. Shesalla agrees. She stands before the dwarf again, grandstanding. “You’ve hit some luck, Kynedrin. These nice people want to ask you a few questions, and if you answer correctly, you might just walk out of here alive.” She motions for the newcomers to step forward, and she recedes into the shadows. 

Welfin again wields the slipper covered in feces. “Tell us everything you know about the lyrium.”

Kynedrin cowers. “Of course, of course! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. You know, I’m a high-ranking member of the Carta. If you help me get out of here, I can get you as much lyrium and as much money as you want. My brothers - my brothers are camped just outside the city. Get me there, and I can get you the lyrium.” 

The group deliberates, deciding to go along with the dwarf’s request. They turn back to Shesalla, telling her that Kynedrin can lead them back to his camp, where they’ll find the missing lyrium. She looks sceptical, and is about to reply when a new figure bursts into the room: a crazed man, bloodshot eyes and mussed hair carrying a longsword. He strides right up to Shesalla and points in her face, backing her against the wall. “Where’s my lyrium, Shesalla?! You promised I’d have it by now. You know I need my supply!”

“I told you, Tavrik,” Shesalla replies, “shipments have been going missing. You just have to wait until - “ 

Darius attempts to intervene and talk the man down. Tavrik grabs Darius by the back of his neck and brings their foreheads together, shaking. “I will kill every single one of you until I get my lyrium.”

It’s clear the addict will fight to the death. Illustrating the point, Shesalla shouts to the party, “If you protect the Bleakwatch and kill Tavric, I’ll know I can trust you. Kill him, and I’ll let you take the dwarf to his camp.”

And so the party engages Tavrik; despite being a single enemy, he proves rather unshakable. Still, the heroes manage to overtake him and eliminate him, a swing from Welfin’s filthy shoe the final, insulting blow. Shesalla, more impressed than ever, hands Kynedrin to the group, and requests that they find and return the missing lyrium, or else discover if there are any more plots against their branch of the Indigo Road. 

Kynedrin, terrified but grateful, leads the group out of the city to the outskirts of Halamshiral, close to the wilderness. Upon seeing the camp, he stops, sensing that something is wrong. When the party gets closer, it’s discovered that everyone is dead. Kynedrin is immediately filled with grief, and admits that he was supposed to watch the camp while his brothers slept, but instead wandered into the city in search of a house of ill-repute and was ambushed along the way. He cries vengeance for his brothers while the others search the camp. Closer inspection of the bodies reveal that the dwarves died of a single wound, their throats slit in their sleep with a short blade with ruthless precision. They also note a single set of footprints that enter the camp not belonging to the dwarves. They lead back out of the camp and towards an area where a horse was clearly tied off. Then they lead off to the west at a fast pace; the tracks are reasonably fresh and made the same time as the attack on Kynedrin. Lastly, a close look at the wagon reveals a hidden compartment under the floorboards where lyrium was concealed, and it’s been opened and the drugs stolen. The party nearly turns on Kynedrin, but he insists that whoever killed his brothers also took their lyrium. 

It’s at this point that, faced with a daunting journey and a clear lead, Solange insists that proper introductions between the group are made. 

“Pardon the interruption,” a voice says as a female figure walks into view of the camp. “I believe that you and I are in search of a similar target, and if introductions are to be made, I may as well throw my hat in.”

Clearly wary of any strange-looking elf in Halamshiral after his run-in with Shesalla, Kynedrin steps back and asks, “Yeah, who the hell are you?”

“My name is Dhara,” the elf replies, clearly unphased by the dwarf’s nervousness. “And what, exactly, are all of you doing here?” The party recounts the evening’s events, and Dhara gives little indication of surprise or shock. “Well, since it seems we’re both headed in the same direction, why don’t we travel together? If we’re going to end up in the same place, we may as well work as a team.”

The party agrees.