Tales of Amn Season 2, Session 2 [Feb 4, 2025]

Excerpted from the Diary of Vadania “Necro” Amakiir

No civilians were harmed, which was a blessing, but the travelers did seem shocked by the violence of our encounter with the guards. I sometimes forget that others around us lead much more peaceful lives than those to which we’ve become accustomed. As the smoke cleared and the remaining fires were extinguished, the travelers began to pick through the rubble and recover what they could. Amidst our own party, Claera and Shadow found little of value on the dead guards aside from some armor they may try to sell. As things settled, we each noted the bugbear and two smaller humanoid creatures who seemed deep in conference amid the wreckage; the humanoids were bizarrely ambiguous in nature, seemingly ageless and genderless, with severe eyebrows suggesting a certain unfriendliness.

Regardless of that, Shawn, in typical fashion, immediately drew them into conversation; he wanted answers regarding their attempted abduction of him in the alleys of Honiesale. They admitted that grabbing him was a mistake. On other matters they were less than forthright. Based on the little information they did share, it appears that the new Empire under Galathor has begun a vigilant campaign to hunt down and eradicate any and all practitioners of arcane magic. The humanoids were angry with us for our assault on the guards. They claim that they are not involved in our politics, but that by murdering the guards who came for them, we have irrevocably stirred the pot and they will be forced to leave. Drakon and I stepped in and tried to offer our aid in any way they saw fit, their curt answer: unless one of us practiced chiromancy and could set things back, we were of no use to them whatsoever. I did note that Madame Primm had a rather cryptic response to the request for chiromancy - I’m starting to wonder at the extent of her knowledge and expertise. And so we were at loose ends after our encounter with the guards.

We watched as the travelers and the overly moody humanoids prepared to move on and the few lingering onlooking villagers made their return to Honiesale. Made to believe that we had only incited trouble for the innocent, we decided that leaving the guards so close to Honiesale and in the middle of a burned out travelers camp might only make things worse. Madame Primm set a controlled fire to dispose of the corpses. Not for the first time since meeting her that evening, I was glad for her seemingly endless bag of tricks. The halfling who engaged with us, who either has no known epitaph or else refuses to share it, seemed a willing addition to the group and I’ll admit, after seeing his competence in battle, I was happy to add another member to our party. When asked his name, he simply replied “Me.” I fear Shawn believes his name to be “Meep” and the nickname may wind up sticking. Everything considered, we decided our best course of action was to follow the travelers. Perhaps we could make up for our blunder and help them after all. Or barring that, at least we might learn more about the supposed trouble into which we had apparently stepped.

Before we could make our departure, Shawn held us up while he ran back to the pub to pin a note on the bulletin board. Accustomed at this point to his unpredictability, we simply waited him out. When he returned he proudly declared himself ready to proceed.

Bulletin Board at the Fat Dragon “Dear Mom & Dad, Joined the circus. Love you. P.s. Give Horny Corny a hug for me.”

Excerpted from the Diary of Vadania “Necro” Amakiir The travelers numbered around 15, but for such a large group, they left faint tracks and we had some difficulty maintaining our pursuit. Particularly after they abandoned any semblance of a road and began to follow game paths. The woods were dark and we trudged for what felt like hours. After a time, I could swear I began to see glimpses of what looked like a lantern or a light some ways ahead of us. It was difficult to confirm, the sort of vision that looks clearer in the periphery than when looked at straight on. When I finally gave voice to what I believed I was seeing, Claera admitted to seeing it too.

Was it our travelers? Were we gaining on them? We had no idea. We continued following the elusive, bobbing beacon for an indeterminable amount of time. We were all weary, with heavy legs, dry throats and aching backs. The forest seemed to get darker and more foreign the longer we marched. Soon we noticed runic symbols on the trees, a language none of us recognized, but surely one of antiquity, given the age and wear of them. Strange noises followed us, their origins unclear and impossible to trace. All of us a bit uneasy, Madame Primm performed a ritual cast of protective magic. We finally paused to set our packs down and stretch out sore limbs. Madame Primm seized the opportunity to send Daisy up a tree to reconnoiter.

Siphoned from the thoughts of Madame Primm while inhabiting Daisy’s Vision

This forest is much older than anything she’s ever encountered, and the canopy stretches as far as she can see in any direction. It is dark above the trees - but we’ve been hiking much too long for it to still be the same night. She does not recognize the stars above - they are not our stars. Either it is night again by chance, or else we are somewhere not beholden to the same diurnal cycles as we are used to.

Excerpted from the Diary of Vadania “Necro” Amakiir

I’ve never seen someone inhabit the essence of a familiar before, which was apparently what Madame Primm was doing while Daisy climbed that tree. She seemed to be locked in a trance, unaware of anything we said or did until Daisy returned, then she blinked as if to break the spell and both she and Daisy appeared normal. To be honest, it was a tad unsettling. She looked around at all of us and merely suggested we rest. Exhausted, we were in no mood to argue, but I doubt any of us were encouraged by her reticence to reveal what she had seen above the canopy. A few of us offered to stay alert and keep watch. We were quiet; too unsure of our surroundings for any sort of revelry and too tired to discuss our surroundings. Absent our own shuffling, the din of the forest was filled with the sounds of stealthy movement. It was obvious we were of great interest to some of the full time inhabitants of this forest. We could sense things watching us, circling us, surely leery of our purpose there, in the end it was difficult to truly let my guard down at all in that strange place. Much too soon for our aching bodies, the feeling of dawn arrived. A sense that is hard to describe in what was still a pitch black forest, but the air crackled with a different energy. The rustling around us became lively with the loud purpose of daytime activity. Before we could make much of an effort to properly rouse the group, a figure appeared in our midst. Slender, almost elvish in appearance, with high cheekbones and bright white eyes that almost seem to glow in the darkness. At their side was a lantern. The lantern sat atop a long pole. It was ornate and beautifully filigreed. The figure told us, “I am Leidim. You are not good at following.” Madame Primm identified the figure not as an elf, but as a fey.

Having never been face to face with a fey, I knew nothing more than what I have heard in lore, but this fey seemed displeased with us. A sudden loud POP drew all of our attention. A blur of some violent creature appeared, tried to take a bite out of a few of us, missed and disappeared. Shaken, we looked to Leidim for an explanation. They told us that we left the path and now we must fight. While Claera attempted to send a dissonance charm into the mind of the fey, we all noticed three more bobbing lights approaching. These turned out not to be additional lanterns, but rather angry wisps. Things escalated quickly from there. A hairless dog bounded into the clearing, halted only by Madame Primm’s cast of a shrinking spell. A second dog was close behind and latched onto the halfling. After that it was madness; streaks of light streaming past us; hit squarely by one, Shawn went down in a shock of light. Those of us with blades swung them at whatever we could see. Only when

Claera cast a heat metal spell onto the lantern of Leidim did the battle cease.

Leidim flung the molten lantern to the ground amid a torrent of angry cursing. Although they were determined not to lead us back to the path themselves, they said that they would allow us the freedom to find it on our own. Shawn had other ideas, and perhaps through persistence alone, persuaded Leidim to lead us on.

The woods were no brighter than before, but the landscape did change slightly. Amid the never ending trees, we came across waystones and building ruins, all abandoned long enough that the forest had begun to reclaim them with new growth. We walked for hours before we distinctly heard the sound of tinkling bells, the gentle strum of lutes, flutes, drumming and chatter. As the sounds became clearer, we eventually caught sight of the still ash-covered, beleaguered troop of travelers we’d been trailing, still tromping ahead. Amid the travelers was the humanoid figure, both astonished and angered at the sight of us. She stopped, as the travelers marched on. Bricriu, as we learned was her name, explained to us that although we should not have been able, that we had somehow crossed into the Land of No Sun. Keeping us several paces behind the rest of the troop, Bricriu led us forward while she filled us in. It’s still unclear to me how we made it into the Land of No Sun, but we learned that most do not successfully do so. Bricriu told us it is a world between worlds and that those that walk “the path” come from everywhere, from faraway lands we’ve never heard of, and even from our own world. The path calls to some and kills others.

Vagaries like the above were all the explanation we managed to get from her - despite Shawn’s persistent questioning. The only other information of use that we were able to get from Bricriu was that these path-walkers really hate the Empire and Galathor in particular. And although they loathe the Empire and its tyrannical reach, they will not insert themselves in anyway - they say they will not change the world, but simply walk through it.

Although I cannot speak for my group, I found that to be an infuriatingly stupid point of view. A quick tête-à-tête amongst us, and we had decided to leave the path and actually do something about this increasingly emboldened anti-arcane-magic-movement of the Empire. Our guide promised to show us a path out of the forest, but not before Madame Primm sent Daisy out into the woods, and she came back with a weathered glass jam jar filled with, what I can only describe as, six or so eyeballs floating in snot. Primm stuck it in her bag without a word. I, myself, had not the courage nor desire to ask what it might be or where Daisy may have procured it. Bricriu had us slow down and break away from the group.

Shortly thereafter, we began, finally, to see dapples of light and to feel a warm breeze. Sunlight had never looked so good to me after what felt like days in darkness. Small woodland animals criss-crossed the path and we soon passed a waystone inscribed with a Sun. Clearly we had left the world between worlds. Bricriu bid us farewell, obviously more than just relieved to be rid of us, she asked that we not seek them out in future. We traversed fields and farms, seeing only sheep and one lone farmer. We inquired as to hiring transport but found that this village was even less than a one-horse town - we would have to go on foot. Eventually we found an Inn; the thought of hot food, cool ale and a place to rest was positively tantalizing. As is so often the case with this crew, our short stay at the Inn was anything but restful.

The Inn was vigilantly pro-Empire, at least on the surface. The bulletin board was covered with Empiric notices and not-so-subtle propaganda. Wanted posters for Dewdrinker, and other individuals in opposition to Galathor also littered the board - thankfully we were not represented. One wanted poster called for the capture of someone called “The Keeper”, who is reportedly snatching people from these lands. It all sounds very mysterious and just a bit fanciful. Our new halfling friend theorized that it may just be a convenient cover for the more nefarious actions of the empire.

A small group of leather clad guards were our main focus while in the pub. From what we were able to ascertain, they work for the Empire as some sort of regional guards and bounty hunters. Daisy snatched a beautiful drinking horn off of one of them and brought it to Madame Primm, to her emphatic praise. Some light eavesdropping on their conversation only revealed some rather cryptic talk about the weather, surely a code of some kind, but what it could mean, we had no idea.