After a night and morning at The Happy Hero, licking your wounds, pondering what happened and wondering what will happen next, each of you sits back with an early morning ale or mead.
You believed yourselves to be on the road to fame and fortune. Word of your exploits at Barren Hill reached Athkatla and you are enjoying a bit of fame. The Path of the Scarlet Chord seemed pleased to have you.
Then you agreed to check out the disturbance at the crypt near a crevice north-east of the city. You found the entrance easily. From that moment, you were reminded that you are early in the career of adventuring, that you had a great deal to learn. Evil priests, zombies, ghouls and worse were your enemies. You killed a few cultists who followed an ancient, unknown god named Kyuss, whose symbol is a diamond with three blue lines. After that, you crept out of the crypt and the crevice and returned to safety.
Solyony sits quietly brooding, but the smoldering look in his eyes makes it clear he intends to return to the crypt. As he said to you when you entered: the dead should be left in peace. He means to rid the crypt of the worshipers of Kyuss, and he means to do it now.
Ptolemy the Bard, who fought with you at Barren Hill, did not go to the crypt with you. He said he has little love of fighting undead creatures who so easily resist his charms. You wonder if he would rejoin you if you were to try your luck at another nasty rumour.
Ellamin the pious monk is spending much time in meditation, trying to clear his mind of the doubt that has crept in after his being hit often and easily by the bears and by opponents in the crypt. He is aware that doubt is a great evil, that he must master it if he is to master himself and reach enlightenment.
Ela’san the supernaturally stealthy whisper gnome has a haunted look in her eyes as she sits, her mead untouched. Each attempt to harm the undead disturbed her. She consistently aimed her blows at what should have been vital organs, yet the creatures hardly flinched when she struck. It is clear she has little interest in returning to the crypt; there wasn’t even all that much to steal!
Nazir Khalid seems undecided: should he wield a great sword and wear heavy armour, or should he wield his cultural weapon, the scimitar, while defending himself with a shield? Other than that he seems happy if there is something to slash, undead or not.
And so your adventuring party divides: Nazir and Solyony decide to return to the crypt, the former because there are easily found foes, the latter to serve the interests of his faith; Ellamin and El’ana bid them good luck, but they stay behind, having become more interested in a tale Ptolemy is telling them of a disturbance in a town to the East. It seems another small town needs heroes, that old stories of a forgotten king are on everyone’s lips, that evil is threatening another defenseless hamlet.
Nazir and Solyony depart to find their fate.
In addition to the plight of Drellin’s Ferry, the town in distress, Ptolemy has made some new friends, Argolian Galvir, Thalamyr the Sapient, and noble son of Waterdeep Gavin Eltorchul. As you make introductions, Ptolemy leaves to secure some supplies from merchants in the town and you ask for your horses to be saddled and readied. You tell the innkeeper that Ptolemy will pick up the tab when he returns.
Suddenly, an emissary from the Prince steps in the door. It seems the Prince is so grateful that he has secured two very valuable gifts for you. The emissary offers up the first: a wand prepared by the Prince’s own divine servants (Wand of Cure Moderate Wounds with 50 charges, RESTRICTION: (1) may only be used 5 times each day.
For the second gift, the emissary asks for you to accompany him to a local temple. Delighted at the attention and the increase in your ability to survive, you agree with pleasure. He leads you to a temple dedicated to the goddess of Luck, Tymora. The emissary nods at the high priest, a man dressed more like a jester than a priest. He dances over to you and begins an incantation. Those of you who are able to cast spells know that this spell is far beyond your abilities. After a few moments he is finished.
On the way back to the Happy Hero, the emissary explains. “The Prince has paid a vast sum of money for this second gift, a gift to each of you individually.” He pauses for a moment. “The High Priest of Tymora, goddess of luck, has cast a powerful spell on each of you, a spell known only to her most powerful followers. At the moment of death, when your breath stops and your soul is about to leave this material plane, Tymora’s luck will intervene and return life to your body.” Your eyes widen in surprise. “This may happen only three times in your …” he pauses, searching for the right word, “in your existence.”
Your horses are ready. The emissary takes his leave, making sure to take each of you by the hand. Argo, Thalamyr, and Gavin Eltorchul begin to protest that they have done nothing to receive this honour, that it was meant for others who have left and for one who is not present at the moment. “It was an accident”, you say.
The emissary smiles and speaks, “I, too, am a loyal follower of Tymora, and I assure you that the Lady of Luck believes there are no accidents.” He bows before his final words to you: “Hurry back. The Prince has taken a great interest in the newest members of the Chord”.