Tales of Amn Season 2, Session 3 [March 11, 2025]

Excerpted from the Diary of Vadania “Necro” Amakiir

After we’d all done a fair bit of information gathering and eavesdropping around the pub two things were evident to me; one - that my group, though once proudly part of the adventurers guild, were clearly no longer aligned with Galathor and the Empire, and two - that this town lay firmly under the thumb of that very same Empire. The Leather Daddies boorishly flaunted their power and influence, diligently working to snuff out any and all practitioners of arcane magic in the realm - they really were a bunch of dicks.

Sensing an opportunity to bring down the house, Claera unsheathed a lute and strummed out the opening chords of “Don’t Go into the Woods”. If you had told a teenage Vadania Amakiir that there would come a day when she would have front row seats to an impromptu Claera Westwild show, she would have had a nervous breakdown. But I’m not that same elf anymore. That kind of childish infatuation has no place in the heart of a warrior. And that is what I have become. It truly was a kick ass set, though…

The pub may have been filled with a bunch of brutish leather daddies and simple country folk, but they knew good music when they heard it. Claera was blowing their tiny minds. Right when he had them in the palm of his hands, he brought it back around into an encore of “Don’t Go Into the Woods”. They ate it up. Feeding off the crowd’s intense energy, he cast magic upwards and a luminous display of the song title appeared above his head. I’ve never seen a vibe die so quickly. The crowd backed away in fear and the leather daddies stood up and took notice.

Villagers quickly began to file out of the pub. The bartender began fastidiously tidying and me and my group watched the leather daddies carefully as they stared us down and then moved to exit the pub as a single unit.

It was then that a vaguely familiar voice, but one that I could not place, told me in a firm tone, “You need to leave.” I looked around, but it was clear that no one else had heard it. Whether or not I recognized the voice, I trusted that it was right. My friends did not disagree.

The leather daddies did not move to stop us when we left the pub, but we were sure they had no intention of letting us get too far from their sight. With that in mind we made hasty tracks to head back to Honiesale via the road to Athkatla. Realizing along the way that Madame Primm had left our company at some point. We walked straight through the night. The next morning, we dared to risk a brief rest in a field. I took first watch.

Of all the things I expected might come upon us that morning, a young boy riding a plump milking cow was last among them. Seeing no obvious threat, I stood down as they ambled up to us. Then the boy said, “Well, at least you followed directions this time.” It was Mogh Ruith from the group of travelers. Sent by Leidim to check up on us, he was just as condescending as ever. I’m not sure what to make of these travelers. Do they want our help or don’t they?

By the time everyone had gathered around, he was in full lecture mode, and when he told us that our actions had caused the death of hundreds, it proved to much for Shawn. He leapt angrily to our defense and before we knew it, his emotional tirade had led to a wild magic episode. A bunch of flaming missiles shot straight up into the air and exploded in a colorful display. Beautiful, certainly, but also a beacon for our location to the leather daddies who were surely following us.

We decided our best course of action now, was to stay and fight. We took cover in the woods and lay in wait. Tough as they were in the pub, the leather clad pawns of the Empire were no match for us. We dispatched them with skill and even Mogh Ruith seemed impressed despite himself.

An inspection of the bodies revealed gold plated armor beneath the leather, unsurprisingly emblazoned with the symbol of the Empire. Their cloaks were pinned with brooches that depicted a golden armored fist - the symbol of Torm - a deity associated with lawfulness and righteousness. Very on-brand for Galathor. We also found some goods that will come in handy. Shadow collected some boots of false tracks, Drakon happily upgraded his glaive, burying his old one in a sort of austere and beautiful personal ceremony, and Claera nabbed some whips. We also found a necklace, which Mogh Ruith identified as prayer beads with magical powers. Claera gave them to me as I’m one of the few in our party without magic abilities. I only hope I can figure out how to use them properly. The last thing we need is another member of the group haphazardly shooting fireworks into the air or incinerating gardens.