Tales of Amn

Season 2, Session 5

[May 13, 2025]

Excerpted from the Diary of Vadania “Necro” Amakiir

After some food and a short rest, we returned to the path. Still hoping for some miracle to present itself and bring him back, we were unable to leave Mogh Ruith’s body behind. Back in his natural state, we hefted his enormous body onto the cow and began a slow trek toward Honiesale.

When we arrived in Honiesale some hours later, night already well upon us, it was to an eerily quiet village. None of the streetlights were lit and we heard not a peep from any of the houses or shops. There were no signs of distress, but carts lay untended in the streets, parcels sat neglected on walkways, and so we moved through the street with quiet caution. Shadow tapered off to peek through some windows and what he saw only confused us more. No inhabitants were present in any of the houses; meals lay uneaten on tables, embers of abandoned fires smoldered in hearths, it was as though the entire town had suddenly up and left, leaving no trace.

Shawn was suddenly gripped with fear for his family, and he took off toward the Shinglesby farm as fast as his small legs could carry him; the halfling and Drakon nodded at each other and went after him, gaining the company of Shadow as they passed.

I was leading the cow and could go no faster, and Claera was only too happy to maintain a more lackadaisical pace alongside us. Daisy and Critter kept us company, but it proved to be an extremely disconcerting walk through familiar streets now mysteriously devoid of life.

As I found out later, the rest of our troupe arrived at Shawn’s farm to find it not only missing his family, but also vigorously ransacked. The most egregious of crimes was the removal of the family’s sacred shrine to Chauntea, the only thing left in its place a dark handprint, matching that of the Empiric gauntlet that Daisy had procured previously. Plenty of boot prints were found outside, but no outward signs of struggle. Had agents of the Empire simply marched into an empty home and pillaged freely? Or were they responsible for the disappearance of the Shinglesbys?

When Claera and I finally caught up, he went to the house, while I brought the cow and Mogh Ruith to the barn. This too was absent any of the resident livestock and ravaged beyond reason; equipment broken, supplies overturned and everything was sodden. The point of any of this overwhelming destruction escaped me. I unloaded Mogh Ruith’s body and left the cow to rest while I joined the rest of my party in the house.

Shawn was enraged, desperate to find his family and to exact vengeance on the Empire. We all felt a keen sense that he shouldn’t be left alone and so we followed him to a nearby field we knew to host a longstanding altar to Chauntea.

Shadow felt the rest of us had Shawn well in hand, and thought he might discover more of what might have happened in the center of town. We agreed to join him there shortly and parted ways. Although the deathly silence followed us into the field - somehow even more upsetting in nature than it had been within the settlement - the Maltar, as it was affectionately called by the Shinglesbys, was gratefully undisturbed. We all breathed a sigh of relief when Shawn seemed to calm in its presence. He laid a hand on the altar and after several moments, spoke quietly to the rest of us. He wanted to return to “the path”, believing we may well find answers there.

I don’t think any of us disagreed with his proposal, but first we had to find Shadow. We made our way to the town center and thought our best bet might lie within Dewdrinker’s mansion. Finding the door unlocked, we crept inside. Having seen us enter, Shadow quickly emerged and filled us in. He had searched much of the house, finding it just as abandoned as the rest of the city, save for the sleeping figure of Vizen Dewdrinker in the master suite upstairs.

Shawn wasted no time, climbing the stairs with steely determination. Keeping close behind, we all merely stood and watched as he pulled his dagger out and brought it to Dewdrinker’s neck. When Shawn used a mage hand to rip the covers from the bed, Dewdrinker bolted awake, only to freeze once he felt the pinch of a blade on his throat. Shawn demanded answers, but Dewdrinker had none to give.

We all agreed to spend what was left of the night in the mansion, and get some rest before we attempted our return to the magic realm of Leidem and their ilk, but Shawn was unwilling to let Dewdrinker out of his sight.

Dewdrinker was no more helpful in the morning, claiming that he hadn’t slept at all after our arrival, and telling us, with no small amount of frustration, that since the night of the festival he has been plagued by dreams of a cackling Madame Primm. I confess I cocked an eyebrow at that revelation; although I’m not sure what her purpose would be in doing so, I have no doubt that Primm is indeed behind the persistent dreams. If she ever joins us for more than a few fleeting moments, I may have to ask her about that.

After some small deliberation on our next course of action it was decided that Shadow would stay behind with Dewdrinker while the rest of us ventured out into the woods and attempted to cross over into Leidem’s realm. We collected Mogh Ruith’s body and the cow and entered the woods. We were able to discern a faint flickering ahead and followed it. Shawn was determined to use his arcane abilities to tap into the forest and find a way to join the travelers. It was evident he had overdone it when we all heard a loud pop and watched as he transformed into a bleating sheep.

We continued on, Shawn the Sheep in tow, when suddenly a somewhat frantic Shadow emerged from the woods behind us. He told us that he had continued searching Honiesale for clues as to what may have happened there. He found nothing until he entered the old church, and came upon a single acolyte hunched in prayer before the altar. When he approached the figure, it proved to be none other than His Holiness, brought back from the dead by one of his clerics. Shadow managed to escape the church, absorbing only minimal damage at His hands.

I admit the news gave me no small reason to panic. There were too many questions and too many threats circling us all of a sudden. Clearly, we should have done more to rid ourselves of His Holiness; he was certain to pull no punches the next time we faced him. And where were these travelers?! We’d been wandering about the woods to no avail, one of us now imprisoned as a sheep for who knows how long. Where were all the missing villagers? Had they been taken by the Empire? Or were they safe in the care of Leidem and crew? My frustration and fear mounting, I yelled out to Bricru, Woev, and Leidem to show themselves and to help us. Of course, they did not answer.

Now unsure of precisely where our wandering had taken us, I climbed a tree in order to get a sense of direction, but halfway up the tree, I came face to face with an irate Bricru. Back on the ground he told us that the missing villagers were safe, and agreed to return to Honiesale with us and face his Holiness. Thankfully, Shawn returned to his normal form shortly after Bricru joined us. As we marched toward what was certain to be a devastating battle, my anxiety mounted. Fidgeting in my pockets, I laid my fingers upon the Tormulent prayer beads that we had taken from the Leather Daddies.

As I toyed with the beads, an idea began to take shape. We were very possibly, and almost assuredly, walking into a trap laid out for us by this megalomaniacal priest, and while every part of my good sense screamed that we should regroup and find another way, I was as sure as I have ever been that we had no choice but to continue on and face him head on. Could these beads give us a leg up on His Holiness? Was there some way to match his power and wrath in equal measure?

We reached the grounds outside the church and my frantic thoughts swiftly coalesced into a single name. “Bane”. Awestruck by the thought of vanquishing His Holiness with such ease, it seemed my only option, the only way forward for my friends and I. Not sure if I even said the words out loud, I begged the God of tyranny, oppression, and hate to please come to our aid.

Immediately, I felt a searing pain across my chest and I fell to my knees. My entire body was wracked with vibrating agony and then I heard a cataclysmic, ear-popping boom. The windows of the church were all blown outward and a strangled shriek emanated from the walls. I collapsed backward as the pain released me.

Slowly rising to my feet, I surveyed the rest of my party. They were clearly shaken and staring intently at source of the screams. We approached the building and cautiously entered. There, standing in the middle of the church, looking intently in our direction, bleeding profusely from his ears, his white robes soaked in blood, was His Holiness.