On the road back to Cloakwood, the Troupe detours through Beregost, a town unchanged on the surface, but with a current of weariness and waiting. None of them expected the night to end in blood and broken magic.

18 Eleasias 1368

We arrive in Beregost and see that the town hasn’t changed much. The Jovial Juggler greets us where the Trade Way meets the town.

Since we are here, we go into the Juggler to visit Officer Vai and get our reward for the many bandit scalps we have collected.

Officer Vai: You have been busy, I see. Well, keep at it. The more bandit scalps I have, the richer you’ll be. I’ll take all of the bandit scalps you have.

We show her the scalps we have collected, over thirty in total. White gives a wrinkled snort at the stink of the slightly rotten scalps, but Vai doesn’t even flinch. She’s a soldier, through and through. She gives us 1550 gold as a reward for the scalps.

Officer Vai: Thank you, Aegon. Your efforts have not been in vain. I just received new orders from the city: My contingent and I have been asked to return there and make our reports. You will figure prominently in them and I assure you that our accounts will be favourable.

Her soldier’s formality doesn’t quite mask the approval in her eyes. She bids us farewell, and leaves for her journey back to Baldur’s Gate.

We decide to spend some time resting at the bar before we leave. We need to keep our strength up if we’re going to assault the Iron Throne’s mine again. The bartender helps to settle us in.

Bartender: ‘Ello, friends. Welcome, and make yourselves at home. Just try not to rattle the locals none, okay? Times is pretty harsh right now, and people don’t need any more trouble than they’ve got. So, what can I do for you?

Aegon: Show me your list of services.

We settle down for a pint, while we contemplate the other patrons and their worries. Bandit raids seem less common on the Trade Way, but the iron is still inferior, and the Iron Throne still has a chance to undermine Amn’s supply of ore. I still don’t understand their motivation, and even more I don’t understand where I fit in.

I suggest we visit Breagar in the Thunderhammer Smithy. Imoen is excited at the prospect of seeing the dwarf again. We walk over and find him still swearing at his forge.

Breagar: Greetings, Aegon.

It’s almost completed, just a little polishing up and then I can engrave the runes. Come back in a few days at night when the smithy is closed, and you can watch me.

As we turn to leave, Taerom spots an ankheg shell poking out of our Bag of Holding.

Taerom Fuiruim: An interesting piece ‘o material you got ther. Ankheg, if I’m not mistaken. Been a while since I seen the like, but if I remember correctly, it makes a fine set of armour. If properly treated it’s comparable to full plate with half the weight! If you’re willing to part with your shells I’ll give you 500 gold for the lot of them. No more can I offer with business as slow as it is. Iron shortage hurting us all.

Aegon: I’m not interested in selling it just now, though it would be to you if I did.

Taerom Fuiruim: A shame it is. It could bring quite a bit once finished. How about this? For 4,000 gold I’ll make it into plate for you instead. It’s half my normal rate for working on an exotic, but, as I mentioned, business is slow.

Aegon: Though your offer is generous, it is more than I can afford right now.

Taerom Fuiruim: If it be gold you’re short of, you may want to try for the bounty on the cleric Bassilus. I hear it already nears 5,000, so you would have change to spare. Be quick about it though. That shell will rot in a tenday if not cured.

He is surprised when we tell him Bassilus has already met our steel. We wonder if there are any other bounties we could chase. Oublek had none in Nashkel. If we do, we’ll have to weigh the cost of time against gold if we want to commission that armour. The Cloakwood won’t wait forever. Before we leave him, we stock up on bullets for our slings.

Outside, Imoen insists on going to the only house we never managed to break into. No matter how hard she tries she can’t crack the lock. Eventually White tries to break the door down, but the door even holds against his barbarian strength.

Imoen is a little frustrated. She really needs to know what’s behind the door! She says it could be gnomish gold, or secret Harper documents. Maybe even a family of invisible cats! She has quite the imagination.

We try to whet her appetite for exploration by visiting another home. We find a lone boy, left to hold the household while his parents go out to work.

Boy: Nice house, huh? My buddy is Dason Greycart, and he says his daddy makes good money as a merchant. Not so much nowadays, I guess. Especially if he don’t come back soon. He’s got customers here waitin’ for him. I’ll wait right here and help him unload, like I always do.

We leave the boy to wait for his buddy, and walk over to see what is happening in the Burning Wizard. Zhurlong is still complaining about his missing boots.

Zhurlong: Have you found those hobgoblins yet? They were heading southeast, through the badlands, if that’s any help. Hey… that’s Thalantyr the Conjurer over there, isn’t it?

He’s gone before I can reply, and our coin pouch feels 30 gold lighter. I’m not sure I believe he has ever been accosted by hobgoblins. It’s just a convenient distraction to steal from other patrons.

Penny is still here so I go over to talk to her again.

Penny: So you have returned. Was there something you wanted?

Aegon: How about a drink?

Penny: You aren’t my type. Please leave me alone.

Aegon: Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.

Her face shows the trace of a smile.

Penny: Mind your way tonight. The streets aren’t as safe as you might think.

It seems to have gotten cold in the Burning Wizard, so we take our leave. Perhaps the Red Sheaf will be more welcoming.

We find Perdue inside again, but he’s not interested in socialising this day.

Perdue: Why do you insist on bothering me?

Lachluger is here as well, singing his songs, drunk as always.

Lachluger: My momma was a sheepdog,
my papa was a hound,
an’ when I fell in love with you, li’l pup,
I knew that I’d been found…

This place isn’t too interesting either. We decide to move on to Feldepost’s Inn. At least there we could get a nice room and some good rest, if nothing else.

The patrons aren’t too welcoming here either.

Dunkin: I don’t think my friend Marl likes you. It’d probably be wise if you left.

We give them a wide berth, but we still want a room. The bartender is willing to accomodate us.

Bartender: Keep a low profile if you please. Tempers are short fer strangers right now. So, what do ya want?

We book the nicest room they have and retreat upstairs, leaving Dunkin and Marl to drink by themselves. We wait until night falls and return to the Thunderhammer Smithy to see if Breagar is ready to start inscribing his runes.

We find him working on his runes, while Otho works by the other furnace.

Otho Truehammer: Hello there… hehe… If yer looking to buy some armour or weapons this is ole’ Thunderhammer’s place. I’m just visitin’.

Breagar notices we have come to watch and welcomes us to the smithy.

Breagar: Greetings, Aegon.

The piece is ready and the moon stands high. This is the perfect time to engrave the runes. Take a good look, Aegon. Watch a true master!

He starts to carve runes into the hammer he has been working on. As he does so he chants something in what sounds like the Dwarven tongue, only more ancient. His voice rises and starts to echo around the room as the runes begin to glow.

The runes begin to glow, and strands of light from the Weave spin around him. But something doesn’t seem quite right. Shouldn’t the magic be flowing through the runes?

The glow intensifies, shrill and unstable. Then, suddenly, it surges straight into Breagar. There is a flash of lighting followed by an immediate crack of thunder. Breagar turns, swaying, and it takes a moment to realize what’s missing. His arm. His arm is gone.

He collapses just as Taerom bursts into the room, rubbing his eyes.

Taerom: Breagar! Damnit, do you have to make so much noise in the middle of the night? Can’t I just…

Injured Breagar: …

Taerom: By Gond’s hammer! What happened?

You, elf! Tell me!

Aegon: I don’t know. There was a flash of lightning and…

Taerom: Lightning? That can only mean one thing.

Hm… yes, truly. It is, how I feared.

This foolish dwarf has played with forces he couldn’t control. He must have made a mistake and all the energy, that should have been channelled through these runes, was released at once.

Look at that, elf! So much blood… By Gond! It tore off his arm! He will die, if we don’t help him!

Aegon: I am a cleric, what can I do?

Taerom: These are deep wounds, caused by raw elemental power. We will need a specialist in healing magic. No, I’m afraid, your powers won’t be enough here.

Aegon: What can I do? I will help however I can.

Taerom: I can maybe stop the worst bleeding, but you have to help me! Run to the Morningsong Temple and talk to Kelddath Ormlyr. He is the high priest and surely knows what to do, but please hurry! You won’t have more than one hour or two!

Imoen: You… you won’t just leave Breagar like this, right? We’ll get help, right?

Aegon: Of course, we are on our way!

Taerom: I’ll wait here for you. Remember, Breagar has an hour, maybe two, not more!

We immediately rush out of the smith and head east to the temple. We see Kelddath, but he has other things on his mind.

Kelddath Ormlyr: Ah, I see Will has joined you. Did you know that I can make his flail more powerful?

Will Scarlet O’Hara: Good day to you Morning Lord.

Kelddath Ormlyr: Good day to you as well, Will.

Aegon: What? No, I didn’t know about Will’s flail. Tell me more.

Kelddath Ormlyr: Very well, then. If you can find a rogue stone, it will be possible to add that component to the flail and with the right spells, Will’s flail would be much more powerful.

Aegon: Okay, we will have to get back with you on this.

Damn it, Aegon. Focus. Breagar’s bleeding out while you’re talking upgrades.

Kelddath Ormlyr: Welcome! The travelling adventurer is never turned away from a house of Lathander, as we strive to aid all who make a difference in the realms. If you are battle-worn, we can extend a number of necromantic restorations, whatever your need. A small donation is all the compensation that we require.

Aegon: Please! We need help! There has been an accident!

Kelddath Ormlyr: Don’t worry, traveller. I will send for sister Revianel. She will take care of it.

We wait as he sends his summons. A priestess enters the central chamber, as ready for battle as she is for healing.

Revianel: Lathander be with you! Can I help you with something?

Aegon: There has been an accident in the Thunderhammer Smithy.

Revianel: The Thunderhammer Smithy? I’m on my way!

She rushes out of the temple and we follow her. She makes it to the Smithy before us. Tearom has managed to stop the bleeding as he said he might, but Breagar is still screaming in agony.

Revianel: There you are! Well then, let’s see if I can help your friend.

She starts to cast a spell that I recognise as a healing spell, though it clearly holds more power than any of my own. Hopefully Lathander can do what Corellon could not. The blessings of her god glow as they swirl around the angry dwarf before they dissipate into the ether. Our eyes adjust and we can see Breagar’s wounds have closed, but he is unconscious and unmoving.

I think we may have been too late.