Chapter 1: Welcome to Randwynn
Twenty-first of Mellowgreen, year 1700 PS. Morning of Soc Sinnis.
Our heroes had found themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the tail-end of their journey to the city of Ventasca was halted by the Randwynnian border patrol. Before Veldris could try to intimidate them into submission however, Syndra had managed to intervene, resolving the dispute diplomatically; as in, flashing her upper class passport to the guards.
With that out of the way, our heroes had finally reached the Kingdom of Randwynn – a luxurious magocracy with a troubled past – currently plagued with decadence and hedonism, as overreliance on magic tends to result in bad habits.
“Are we there yet?” Belderyx whined. “These bags are so heavy…”
“We’ve just entered Ventasca, be patient.” Syndra replied. “It’s a big city, you know?”
“Where do you even live?” Belderyx inquired. “Come to think of it, you never told us your address to begin with-”
“Why, in the Egg, of course!” Syndra said.
“The… egg?” Belderyx said.
“The Egg.” Syndra repeated. “Here, I’ll show you…”
The wizard unraveled a scroll that contained a detailed district map of Ventasca, then pointed at the center.
“A little north from there,” she continued. “Bordering Vento Aureo.”
Emilia glanced over the wizard’s shoulder.
“Care to explain what Quartieri Poveri and… ‘The Pens’ are supposed to be?” she asked nervously.
“I’d rather not.” Syndra muttered. “My babbo told me to never wander off there, and let’s just say he was absolutely right…”
Belderyx leaned into the druid’s ear and answered her question with a string of unsettling whispers.
“Really?!” Emilia gasped. “That’s horrible…”
“That’s nothing.” Belderyx said. “Just you wait till you hear what the Mentaventians did to us, Kolsymirians.”
“Eh?” the druid replied.
Belderyx leaned in for a lengthy whisper again. The druid turned pale.
“This place makes me sick.” Emilia murmured.
Syndra interrupted their little conversation:
“Come on guys, it’s not like that… anymore.”
“Let’s get to my place and I’ll show you how nice and cozy Randwynn is these days!” she added.
Chapter 2: A Friend in Need
As the party continued their march towards Syndra’s residence, Kellan halted in his tracks.
“No way.” he gasped. “Is that…”
The drow boy dropped his luggage out of amazement. Standing still with his gaze transfixed on a figure in the distance, he muttered:
“Doctor Rowan?!”
As Kellan inched closer, the silhouette that reminded the party’s bard of his idol became increasingly clear with each step forward, until sure enough, he was looking at Doctor Rowan in the flesh.
Syndra walked up to the young bard and smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Wow, sure is.” she said. “I haven’t seen her in a long time. Gotta say hi!”
“Yeah…” he murmured. “Wait a minute-”
Kellan’s eyes suddenly sparkled as he pieced Syndra’s words together.
“YOU KNOW HER?” he exclaimed.
Syndra shrugged.
“‘Course I do.” she said. “Rowan and I go way back.”
“We were roommates in our college years!” she added.
Kellan’s jaw dropped to the floor. Hells, it dropped to the cellar, or maybe even something below that.
Before Syndra could greet her friend, however, Kellan regained his composure and grabbed his mentor’s hand.
“Hey, umm…” he started. “Miss Syndra?”
“Yes?” she inquired.
“Would you mind… introducing me to her?” Kellan asked in a coy manner.
“I’m a huge fan of hers!” he exclaimed.
“Her stories convinced me healing magic is not actually all that boring.”
The wizard chuckled, but decided to entertain Kellan’s suggestion.
“Sure!” she said. “Ahem…”
Syndra walked up to the white-haired elf, who was busy rummaging through her backpack and flipping through various books.
“Long time no see!” she exclaimed.
For a second, the elf raised her emerald green eyes from the floor, only to ignore Syndra and continue looking through her belongings. Once she found the pamphlet she was looking for, Rowan raised her eyes once again, this time widened in surprise.
“Oh.” she said.
“OH.”
“SYNDRA!” the elf exclaimed. “Gee, so sorry about that~!”
Rowan got up from the ground, wiping the dirt off her knees.
“I totally didn’t notice you at first, haha!” she smiled.
She gave her friend a firm handshake that, after a brief, uncomfortable moment, turned into a heartwarming embrace.
“Woah there-” Syndra said.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Syndra.” Rowan interjected. “I could really use your help right now…”
Kellan stood completely dumbfounded. Seeing his idol be all over his mentor made the young bard’s world feel much smaller than usual.
“Slow down, what’s going on?” Syndra asked.
Rowan presented her friend with the pamphlet that she pulled out of her backpack a few moments earlier, showing Syndra several marked spots on a Randwynnian tourist guide.
“See these?” she started. “These are the churches around Ventasca
that I’ve already visited.”
Syndra squinted her eyes and said:
“That’s all of them.”
“PRECISELY.” Rowan exclaimed.
“And not a single one offered to help me out.” she pouted in a pathetic manner.
“Help out… how?” Syndra inquired.
Rowan let out a deep sigh.
“You’re a renowned lore bard, a reputable journalist, an inspiration to people from all walks of life.” Syndra said. “And a trained medic, nonetheless. Who could ever deny you anything?”
“As flattering as you make it out to be,” Rowan said. “My life hasn’t really been all sunshines and rainbows as of late.”
“I see.” Syndra said. “I suppose that’s why your usually-exuberant self is not here with us today…”
“How bad is it, really?” she asked. “Your life, I mean. Right now.”
The elf bard wiped a gentle tear that was trying to escape her cheek.
“My mother,” she murmured. “She…”
“She’s gone.”
“Like, dead kind of gone.”
Syndra was too stunned to speak, so she let her friend continue.
“It all happened during a demonic incursion.” Rowan said.
“I was treating an epidemic in the Duchy of Destria, but after hearing the news, I got here as soon as I could.” Rowan continued.
“The local clerics, they…” she sniffled. “They didn’t let me bury her.”
“All the bodies from the incursion were to be burned for… ‘safety measures’, I believe they called it.”
“Including my mother’s.”
“But she wasn’t like the rest of them.” Rowan said. “She worshipped Kemrios.”
Veldris, who was trying very hard not to listen to their conversation, twitched at the mention of her deity out of the blue.
“My mother…” the elf bard continued. “Randwynnians don’t care about that stuff – hells, I really didn’t either, but she did.”
“She was a strong believer, and yet…” Rowan’s voice trembled. “She won’t see the afterlife unless she receives a proper burial.”
Syndra snapped out of her shock.
“I… I don’t know where to start, Rowan.” she whimpered. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Following her traumatic monologue, Rowan returned to her less-pathetic self, though still begging for aid:
“You have to help me find a cleric of Kemrios.”
“The churches won’t help me, Syndra.” she pleaded. “Please…”
“Mom and I didn’t get along well, but that’s the least I could do for her after all these years.”
The party’s drow elf stepped in to console the desperate bard.
“I think I can help you.” she said. “My name is Veldris.”
“And I am a peace cleric of Kemrios.”
Rowan didn’t believe that, not even for a second.
“A cleric of peace? With these scars?” she thought to herself. “And that death stare in her eyes?
“Really?” the bard said, expressing her disbelief. “Just like that?”
“You’re fucking with me, aren’t ‘cha?” she gave the cleric a look of contempt, somewhat offended by her straightforwardness.
Veldris didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she flashed her Signet of Devotion, displaying its faintly-glowing symbol of Kemrios before Rowan’s eyes.
The elven bard briefly suspended her disbelief.
“Fine…” she sighed. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, just help me out with this, okay?”
“Mhm.” Veldris murmured.
“And if you’re a con artist…” the bard said. “Well, you better not be one, or else-”
“Right.” Veldris interjected by murmuring once more. “Lead the way.”
And so, the party took a detour from their way to Syndra’s place, instead heading towards the now-vacant residence that once belonged to Rowan’s mother. Inside, they found a basement hidden under the floorboards, where Rowan had hid her mother’s casket.
“That’s quite macabre.” Syndra said. “Even for you.”
Rowan gently opened the casket.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping her from decomposing with Gentle Repose.” she replied. “Remember when we used this spell on our professor’s parrot?”
“Hah.” Rowan laughed, in spite of her predicament. “Those were the days…”
Veldris judged Syndra with a cold stare, to which Syndra responded by looking away, visibly embarrassed.
The bard then dragged her mother’s body out of the grotesque box – a corpse in pristine condition – a cadaver that could have easily been mistaken for just another sleeping person; she was eerily elegant in her death.
“I’m gonna throw up.” Emilia said.
“How about you help me out instead?” Rowan grumbled.
Emilia reluctantly assisted the bard in dressing the corpse in proper funeral attire, then helped her place the body back into the casket.
“You done?” Belderyx asked rather impatiently.
“Yes, they are.” Veldris interjected. “I’ll take it from here.”
In a quite literal sense of the word, the drow cleric took the casket all by herself, lifting it above her shoulders.
Impressed, Rowan instructed Veldris on where to carry the body.
The party reached the very outskirts of Ventasca, before Rowan finally showed them a secret passage that went under the city walls and into the wilderness. Veldris’s sore back lasted long enough to carry the casket all the way to the beach, where she dropped the cumbersome box on the sand and took a moment to rest.
“So…” she said, panting. “What now?”
Rowan stared into the distant horizon, admiring the Mentaventian Sea and how its waters were sparkling under the golden rays of sunshine.
“She would’ve loved to be buried here.” the bard said.
“When I was little,” she started. “Or rather, before I moved away with dad…”
“Mom used to take me to this beach whenever I felt sad or things just weren’t going my way.” she continued. “She would always say:”
“For a brief moment, Rowan, imagine your worries as droplets in the ocean.”
“Now picture this beautiful ocean as your life.”
“Where are your worries now, in the grand scheme of things?”
Rowan sobbed for a bit before wiping the tears off her face. She then smiled in a triumphant manner.
“You sure had a way with words, mom.” she chuckled.
“I hope…”
“I hope your afterlife is as beautiful as the ocean you kept admiring so much.”
“Goodbye.” she said. “For good, this time.”
Veldris approached the bard.
“Should I…?” she inquired.
“Yes.” Rowan replied. “Do your thing.”
After a few minutes of digging, Veldris commenced with the burial rites.
At the end of the ritual, the casket began to glow. Veldris finished the ritual with a chant in a language that nobody around seemed to understand. Once that was over, the sky turned cloudy for a brief moment, before returning to normal once the casket stopped glowing.
Rowan could’ve sworn she saw a faint visage of her mother, waving her goodbye from the sky.
“It is done,” the cleric said. “Your mother’s soul is safe.”
“By the looks of things, she must’ve been a really pious woman.” she added. “Kemrios welcomed her with open arms, as if he had been waiting for her all this time-”
Suddenly, Rowan sprang into the cleric’s arms, hugging her so tightly that she struggled to breathe.
Veldris didn’t feel like pushing the bard away, even when said bard was crushing her lungs with her embrace. Instead, she hugged the bard back, genuinely glad to have helped her.
Once the emerald-eyed elf regained her composure, she started digging through her purse.
“Right, I almost forgot…” she said. “Your reward.”
Veldris grabbed the elf’s arm and stopped it in place.
“Keep it.” she said in a commanding tone of voice.
“No, but I promised you-” Rowan said.
“Keep it.” Veldris interrupted her. “Listen…”
“You’re a good daughter.” she said. “Your mother would be proud of you, regardless of how much time you’ve spent together.”
Rowan teared up a little.
“For personal reasons I won’t get into, your situation has genuinely moved me.” Veldris said. “More than I expected it to.”
“And for that, I won’t charge you anything.” she added.
The words coming from her mouth were so uncharacteristically genuine that both Kellan and Syndra struggled to say anything in response.
“Way to go, mom.” Kellan thought to himself.
Clandestine picked up on his thoughts with telepathy, and sent him her own piece of mind:
“Does she not seem… a bit different than usual?”
“I think Miss Syndra’s antics are rubbing off on her.” Kellan responded.
“Compassion?” Clandestine inquired.
“Something like that,” Kellan thought. “I hope.”
Chapter 3: On Matters of Adventuring
Rowan escorted the party back to Syndra’s place, where they finally got the chance to drop off their luggage. Before Rowan could leave, however, Syndra came to her with an idea in mind:
“Allora, Rowan…” she started. “You don’t have anywhere important to be right now, do you?
“Still sprinkling in words in Mentaventian, huh?” Rowan retorted. “No, I don’t suppose I’m needed anywhere right now.”
“See, when I was dealing with the epidemic I mentioned earlier, my contractor fired me when I told him I had to go bury my mom.” she said.
“What a scumbag.” Syndra scoffed.
“Eh, I can understand where he’s coming from.” Rowan shrugged. “That being said…”
She gave her small sack of coins a good, long, analytical look.
“I am running short on money at the moment.” she said.
“I could help with that.” Syndra replied. “It’s the least I could do after you dragged me out of my own mess.”
Rowan chuckled.
“Don’t say it like that.” the bard said. “You were always ambitious, you just needed a little push to go outside your comfort zone.”
“Now look at you…” Rowan stared down her friend, filled with pride. “You’ve gone from a scrawny bookworm to a splendid adventurer.”
Syndra smiled.
“And it’s all thanks to you.” she said. “So what do you say, old friend?”
“Care to join me?”
Rowan, still standing in Syndra’s doorway, couldn’t make up her mind. Seconds felt like days as she processed what to do with herself. She knew she clearly missed Syndra, but she wasn’t sure if that was good enough of a reason to resume her adventuring career. After all, their last quest together back in their college years nearly got them both killed.
“I’ll think about it.” she replied dismissively.
Syndra tried to conceal her disappointment, but couldn’t hide it very well. First, a shocked, maybe even hurt expression washed over her face. Then, that expression quickly turned into a defeated stare with eyes low to the ground instead of on her friend.
“Oh, okay…” the wizard whimpered. “I’ll see you around then…”
“It was nice seeing you after all these years, Rowan.” she said.
The elf bard felt really bad about the whole ordeal – after all, Syndra and her friends have helped her a ton today, not to mention they did it all for free, all while having to carry their cumbersome luggage around everywhere.
Rowan contemplated Syndra’s words for a bit, then quickly added:
“Hey, umm…”
“How about I drop by tomorrow and let you know if I made up my mind?” she asked. “Would that be okay with you?”
Syndra’s ears perked up at the hint of hope in her friend’s words.
“That’d be lovely!” she replied. “Please think about it, Rowan.”
“If you’re not terribly busy, of course~.”
Rowan was, in fact, not terribly busy. As a matter of fact – at the moment – she was rather destitute, and could probably benefit from Syndra’s offer.
“No problem, I’ll be sure to let ’cha know.” the bard replied, readjusting back into her nonchalant attitude.
The two college friends decided to part ways but stay in touch. Syndra would start unpacking her party’s luggage, and Rowan returned to her job in the Amverdeel Clinic – a small, run-down clinic that operates inside of a vacant temple.
Several hours later, Rowan was hit with great misfortune twice in quick succession, in that the consequences of her actions had finally caught up to her. She was let off from her work for patient endangerment, and subsequently evicted from her apartment for avoiding rent payments like a plague, hoping to save some money for a house payment.
This sickening twist of events stung even more when considering Rowan could have easily avoided everything if she was just a little more responsible.
“Let this be a lesson that, in spite of your talents, you are not above consequences.” she was told by her supervisor.
“Your skills do not absolve you of responsibility, nor do they allow you to do whatever you want.”
“Understood?”
Although Rowan’s interns vehemently objected to the supervisor’s decision, the elf bard was too stunned to voice her own opinion, and did not protest her layoff.
Still in shock, Rowan left the clinic without saying a word, never to be seen behind its doors again. Deep down she knew her supervisor was right. Negligence, complacency, taking needless risks for the thrill of it, throwing darts at the wall to see what sticks: Rowan ruined her cushy living situation in a matter of weeks by taking her successes for granted.
“Nice work, Rowan.” she thought to herself while puffing on her pipe. “Real nice work.”
She paced the streets of Ventasca in a nervous manner, trying to collect her thoughts.
“I have just enough gold pieces for a few nights at the inn.” she thought. “Wouldn’t hurt to look for a job in Ventasca either.”
“But still…” she thought. “Fucking hells.”
“I really am an idiot, huh?”
Syndra’s offer seemed all the more tempting to Rowan when taking her current situation into account.
While the bard was struggling to regain her footing, our heroes were busy looking for contracts at the Ventascan branch of the Liferunners Club – perhaps the biggest, most famous adventurers’ guild in the entire Kingdom of Randwynn – a place where anyone, regardless of race, age, or social class, can combat Randwynnian hedonism by “running through life”, which roughly translates into taking on dangerous, life-threatening, but very rewarding contracts.
One such contract would turn out to be a mission given to the party by a particular blue-skinned tiefling who’s unusually respected here at the local Liferunners Club, considering he has arrived in Ventasca only fairly recently.
“Not a local, are you?” Veldris inquired.
“No ma’am, as you can see, I’m no elf.” he replied. “Recently found some work here though.”
Just then, a numerous band of rugged adventurers decided to depart for their next quest. Before they left the locale, however, each and every one of them individually waved the tiefling goodbye.
“That’s odd.” Syndra thought. “I’ve been a frequent on-and-off liferunner for years and nobody ever recognizes me.”
“But him?” she continued her train of thought. “What’s a newcomer gotta do to earn that reputation?”
Syndra cleared her throat and said:
“Liking the city so far?”
“It sure seems to like you back.” she added.
The tiefling flashed a faint smile.
“Ah, well, I suppose I’m just glad to be near the coast again, y’know?” he replied.
“Nothing better than doing business as you relax by the ocean breeze.”
“Mhm, yes, very nice.” Veldris cut their little conversation off.
“Now what about the mission briefing?” the cleric said, eager to get to the point.
“Oh, right, sorry.” the tiefling said. “What quest were you willing to take again?”
Belderyx tapped Emilia on the shoulder in a teasing manner.
“Lookie here, a fellow airhead.” she chuckled. “You’d get along nicely.”
Emilia stepped forward to get a better look at the questboard, still a bit flustered after her friend’s remark.
“We’re here for the…” she started. “Hag Hunt, was it?”
“No, that’s not right.” Syndra interjected. “It was something to do with pirates, remember?”
The tiefling’s ears perked up, excited at the mention of the word.
“Right! Pirates!” he exclaimed. “You were going to help me deal with the Fiorans, weren’t you?”
“Who the what now?” Veldris inquired.
The tiefling pulled out a crumpled map scroll from his backpack, laid it out on an unsuspecting couple’s dining table (paying absolutely no regard to their ongoing dinner date), then excitedly pointed towards a specific point on the map.
“That’s their hideout,” he said. “Trust me, I followed them long enough to notice that they dock their ships there.”
“Do you mind-” the couple tried to intervene, but neither the tiefling nor Veldris were listening.
“Slow down.” Veldris interjected. “First, how about you tell us who we’re even supposed to go after?”
“Who are these ‘Fiorans’ you speak of?” she asked.
“What, you don’t know?” Belderyx said. “Have you never heard of ’em before?”
“Now that I think about it, you’re an underdarkie, so you couldn’t have.” the dragon woman added. “Unless they operate underground too-”
“Cyclopean pirates.” the tiefling interjected. “I’m talking about the Fioran Krew – the organized crime syndicate, NOT the bard band.”
(Fioran Krew symbol– a cyclops skull with the gang’s initials written in blood)
“These brutes stole my seafaring supplies,” he continued. “And without them, I can’t go back home unless I pay a FORTUNE.”
“You seem to be pretty well off, though.” Syndra inquired. “Why won’t you buy new ones? Certainly less of a hassle, no?”
The tiefling gave her a judgy look.
“With all due respect; look at me, then look at yourself,” he said. “Can you spot the difference?”
Syndra struggled to understand what her quest giver was implying. He sighed, then continued:
“I’m a ‘tief’, or whatever you elves like to call us.”
“And in your country, our kind isn’t charged for the same amounts as the locals.” he grumbled. “We earn less, and pay more.”
“Now, I’m not here to debate race politics – not my area of expertise, y’know?” he said. “All I want is to find a way home.”
“And those supplies are CRUCIAL for making that happen.” he added.
“Where are you even from, anyway?” Belderyx inquired.
“Why, the Dunelands of course!” the tiefling exclaimed. “Born and raised amongst the snake people of Ouro-Quazos!”
“It’s a tough place to live in, but that harshness brings the best out of people,” he said. “Like this one time where me and my friends-”
Veldris, growing increasingly impatient, grabbed the tiefling by the collar of his tank top and lifted him up effortlessly.
“Listen here, you oversized blueberry.” she growled. “If you want us to do your bidding, then save the smalltalk for later and get to the fucking point already.”
“R-Right, of course, sorry!” the tiefling yelped.
Once Veldris released him, he quickly laid out some self-made maps of the area and started going over all the possible infiltration plans the party could take, as the Fioran Krew hideout that they were looking for had multiple ways to get inside it, however, only one of them wouldn’t immediately alert any guards.
“Any questions?” the tiefling inquired.
“Just one.” Emilia said. “What’s your real name?”
Veldris groaned, Belderyx smirked, and the tiefling tilted his head in confusion.
“I heard the tough guys from earlier call you Surge.” she continued. “It’s a cool nickname, I admit, but if we’re going to be working together, then I’d like to know who I’m talking to.”
“Silly you.” the tiefling laughed. “That IS my name, actually.”
“Surge… Well, just Surge.” he said. “No last name.”
“My first-ever ship captain gave me that name.” he added. “Fits me like a glove, so why bother changing it?”
“Why Surge?” Emilia asked, overtaken with curiosity.
The tiefling took a deep breath, clasped his palms, then quickly rubbed them together to create jolts of lightning that crackled from his fingertips. Having nowhere to redirect the energy, Surge panicked, and accidentally shocked Veldris for 1 point of lightning damage.
“Whoops… Sorry!” he said. “I’m still working on that.”
Looking Veldris in the eyes, he saw death itself staring right back at him. His smile quickly faded, and fear grew in its place. Instead of retaliating, however, Veldris simply sighed and left the locale, mumbling something to herself along the way.
“You’re lucky she’s making an effort.” Belderyx said. “An effort to be patient, I mean.”
Strangely enough, the tiefling’s embarrassing display of elemental powers combined with his tendency to lose focus have left a good impression on Emilia. Finally, the druid met someone relatable for once: not a cynical realist or a heroic idealist, but an extravagant, free-spirited adventurer who’s not afraid to be himself. Or so she thought.
Maybe she was overthinking it, actually.
“Anyway…” Surge continued.
“Good luck to all of you.” he said. “Some time later, I’ll be sure to check up on you guys.”
“Y’know, just to make sure you didn’t die or something.” Surge said. “That would suck, because you seem like an…”
He noticed the party’s strange, pink-skinned alien-tiefling-thing, standing in the back and staring at him with bright pupils surrounded by void-black sclera and a face completely devoid of any discernible emotion.
“…Interesting bunch.” he finished.
The alien in question stepped forward.
“Why do you not just come with us from the start?” she asked, speaking slowly and clearly. “Would things not be easier that way?”
“That’s one verbose kid.” Surge thought to himself, then promptly snapped out of his initial confusion.
“Oh, I wish, little… alien-thing.” Surge said. “I wish, but…”
“I’m not just a quest giver, y’know?” he said.
“I actually have some contracts to do myself.” he added.
“Oh yeah, this reminds me,” Surge said. “I gotta go right about now, or I’ll be late!”
Unprompted, the tiefling left the locale, whistled at something that wasn’t there, then waited in front of the entrance for a moment.
Veldris and Kellan, who were also waiting outside, observed the eccentric tiefling with caution.
“What now…” Veldris groaned.
“Give me a sec-” Surge said, but was interrupted by a crackling formation of energy suddenly manifesting itself in front of him.
“Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed. “I almost thought I forgot how to do our whistle!”
The energy that Surge had just summoned took the shape of a wingless drake, big enough for a person to ride on. The tiefling then saddled the drake, patting it on the head as he was mounting it.
“Who’s a good boy?” he swooned.
His conjured mount resembled a dog happy to see its owner after a long day, wagging its tail and panting excitedly.
“Yeah, I missed you too, buddy.” the tiefling chuckled. “Come on Storm, we’re gonna be late for that caravan escort mission!”
Emilia rushed out of the adventurers’ guild to see what was going on, and was completely dumbfounded by the sight in front of her.
“When… WHAT?!” she blurted out. “How?!”
“That’s Storm, my drake companion.” Surge explained. “He saved my life, we bonded, and now I can summon and unsummon him whenever and wherever.”
“He’s my best friend.” the tiefling added.
Emilia, still frozen in place, was unaware of the downright silly expression on her face – an expression that screamed “this is the best day of my life”, as if subtlety was a foreign concept to her.
“What’s that look for?” Surge laughed. “Did I not mention I am a drakewarden?”
“So cool…” she blurted her thoughts out loud.
“Alright, time to get moving.” the tiefling said. “Once again, good luck with the mission, and I’ll check up on you once I’m done with mine.”
“See you later!” he exclaimed as he rode into the sunset on his draconic mount.
While others were only slightly impressed, Emilia couldn’t contain her amazement. She realized how little she actually knew about drakewardens, and, being a dragon maniac herself, concluded that she must do whatever it takes to convince Surge to join her party. For research purposes, of course.
Veldris was less keen on that idea, and Syndra was still thinking about Rowan, but neither the party leader nor her lancer could possibly deter Emilia from an opportunity to further her already quite impressive knowledge of draconology.
And so, the party ventured forth to the spot marked on Surge’s map, searching for an entrance to the hideout of one nasty band of cyclopean pirates.
Chapter 4: No Grave but the Sea
The party successfully snuck into the Fioran Krew hideout under the cover of night. In front of them stretched out a creaking bridge – their only way forward, albeit posing a risk of alarming the guards.
(Map credit goes to “Crosshead”, reshaded by yours truly)
“Now what?” Emilia whispered.
Veldris took a quick peek at the hideout’s docks, trying to determine whether the path was clear.
“Two pirates.” she replied. “It’s dark, and their depth perception isn’t great.”
“Sneaking past a cyclops shouldn’t be too difficult.” the cleric added.
“That being said,” she added. “Any suggestions?”
Emilia glanced over the bridge and at the unsuspecting cyclopean pirates, considering her options.
“How stable is the bridge anyway?” the druid inquired. “Maybe it’s safe and we’re just overthinking it.”
“Want to bet your life on it?” Veldris retorted.
Deciding to inspect the bridge further, Emilia rolled a measly 5 on her Investigation check, failing to deduce anything about its stability.
“Pretty sure we can just walk across.” she said.
The elf druid carefully tiptoed across the bridge. The wooden planks remained silent – not a single creak could be heard. Just like that, she safely made it to the other side without being spotted.
“Told you so.” Emilia said.
Syndra and her students quickly followed suit, leaving only Veldris and Belderyx on the other side.
“Maybe you really do worry too much.” Belderyx remarked.
As the dragon woman took her first steps to cross the bridge, its wooden planks couldn’t help but loudly creak under the weight of her bulky body. When Belderyx saw torches being lit at the docks, she retreated into cover.
“Do I now?” Veldris retorted.
“No worries, I prepared a jump spell earlier.” Belderyx said.
“Crossing is not the issue, you idiot.” the cleric hissed. “It’s the fact you already ruined our surprise factor.”
Belderyx cast Jump to leap across the bridge without much effort, grabbing Veldris and taking the drow elf with her. Veldris wasn’t particularly happy about being manhandled, but it sure beat having to cross the bridge on her own, potentially blowing the party’s cover.
“Relax, maybe they’ll think it was… the wind, or something.” Belderyx whispered, uncertain in her own assurance.
As the party kept carefully advancing through Fioran tunnels, they were met with a simple wooden door, seemingly unlocked. Emilia tried to hear anything from the other side, but her Perception roll of 7 couldn’t determine anything.
If it wasn’t for Syndra’s decision to lightly open the door and squeeze through it silently, the party would’ve wasted even more precious time trying to come up with convoluted, foolproof ways to get through, not a puzzle, nor a trap, but an unlocked wooden door.
What Syndra failed to notice was a Fioran scout approaching in their direction from a nearby corridor.
Once she heard the cyclops’s footsteps, it was do or die. The party leader’s quick thinking allowed her to hide from the cyclops with a Stealth roll of 12, while also letting her overhear his conversation with a buddy in an adjacent room – a smithy of sorts.
“Any news on metal delivery?” the blacksmith asked. “Can’t forge weapon with no metal.”
“No news,” Fioran no. 3 replied. “Boss busy.”
“He angry, too.”
“What ticked off Boss?” the blacksmith asked.
“Boss think they onto us.” Fioran scout replied.
“No good.” the blacksmith said.
“No good indeed.” the scout repeated. “Just wait until Boss tell Big Boss.”
“Me shudder.” the blacksmith said.
“Me shudder too.” the scout repeated.
Their simple and concise conversation concluded in the two Fiorans returning to their work, allowing our heroes to advance further, still undetected.
“Not too intelligent, are they?” Kellan inquired.
“It’s their culture.” Syndra explained. “They’re actually pretty smart, they just prefer grumbling to speaking.”
“From the looks of things, we ran into a hideout of verbal Fiorans.” she added.
“Is that bad?” Emilia asked.
“Depends.” Syndra said. “Communicating with actual language could mean that this particular gang is at least familiar with negotiation.”
“I still don’t get it.” Emilia said. “What negotiation?”
“Extortion and blackmail, predominantly.” Syndra replied. “I wonder how that works out with their limited vocabulary though.”
“Why use many word when few word do trick?” Belderyx interjected.
“Fair point.” Syndra said. “Now let’s move – the supplies must be somewhere near the docks.”
Veldris stood silent for a moment, concerned by the faint sounds of a hammer striking an anvil faster and faster in a room next to them.
“Shouldn’t we eliminate some of them first?” she suggested. “The blacksmith, for starters. Let’s take him out before he’s done working.”
“I think we’ll be better off grabbing the supplies and making a run for it.” Syndra objected.
“They could trail us.” Veldris added. “What if they strike again?”
“Don’t bother Veldris, they’re like rats.” Belderyx said. “For every gang you clear, six more pop up.”
“None will ‘pop up’ if I exterminate them beforehand.” the cleric interjected.
“You do you.” Belderyx replied. “I know how these guys operate, and I prefer Syndra’s plan.”
Having realized nobody was taking her side, Veldris reluctantly ignored the very-vulnerable blacksmith and followed Syndra’s stealth approach.
The party advanced through two more pairs of doors until they finally reached the docks. Peeping through the keyhole of one of the doors, Syndra spotted two Fioran scouts responding to a much, much bigger cyclops – a fat bastard with more chins than he had teeth.
“Think that’s the Big Boss?” Kellan whispered.
“Ovvio.” Syndra said. “Sure looks like it.
Syndra observed as the large cyclops berated his lesser crewmates, flailing his morningstar in anger, smashing furniture like there’s no tomorrow.
“BLOODY IDIOTS!” he yelled. “ONE JOB.”
“YOU TWO, ONE JOB.”
“WHAT WAS JOB?”
The two scouts looked at each other for a moment until one of them stammered:
“P-Protect cargo, Big Boss.”
“PROTECT CARGO!” Big Boss exclaimed. “AND YOU DO WHAT?”
“We… We lose cargo.” the other scout chimed in.
“RAAAAH!” the large cyclops bellowed, shaking the docks with just his voice.
He paced around the docks, smashing more furniture and demolishing a couple barrels, until finally, he calmed down.
“Client will be mad.” Big Boss grumbled. “We must KILL client.”
“Before client kill US.” he added.
“Yes Big Boss.” one Fioran said.
“Good idea, Big Boss.” the other Fioran said.
Once their boss had left the docks, the two scouts began to talk about him behind his back.
“Grumplegort no fit for Big Boss status.” Fioran no. 5 stated. “He too angry for business.”
“Much agree.” Fioran no. 4 replied. “We better run before Big Boss send us on no-return mission.”
Veldris inched closer towards the door’s keyhole, tapping Syndra on the shoulder.
“What are they saying?” she asked.
“They’re tired of their boss.” the wizard replied. “Their Big Boss.”
Veldris pulled her son closer and began instructing him:
“Kellan,” the drow cleric said. “You’ll use stealth to drop the pirate by the door.”
“I’ll try to drown the one closer to the docks.” she added.
“Can’t we just… convince them to leave?” Kellan suggested. “After all, they hate their boss, right?”
Veldris didn’t entertain this idea, not even for a brief moment. If what Belderyx and Surge had told her about the Fiorans were found to be in any way true, then negotiation was off the table.
“Follow me.” she whispered, sneaking into the docks.
The cleric’s unimpressive Stealth roll of 8 was still enough to get past the cyclopes’ poor depth perception. Veldris then jumped off the dock railing, landing right on top of Fioran scout no. 5.
Unfortunately, before she could strangle him to death, the cyclops resisted her Athletics roll of 22 with his own impressive roll of 24. As the pirate wrestled the cleric away from himself, Kellan decided to intervene before things got out of hand.
Succeeding on his Stealth check with a roll of 11, he snuck up on the other Fioran scout before his fallen comrade could ask for help.
The unsuspecting Fioran no. 4 was knocked out by a swift strike to the head from Kellan’s katana sheath, leaving him unconscious, but still breathing.
The same couldn’t have been said for Fioran no. 5, whose Athletics roll of 7 failed against Veldris’s roll of 15. Consequently, he was pushed into the water, where Veldris drowned him in a matter of minutes.
“Resilient, that one.” the cleric murmured. “Now, let’s try to find the supplies.”
The party had three attempts at passing a DC 15 Investigation check to find the supplies before the pirates got suspicious about the silence in the docks. While Kellan and Belderyx both failed, Syndra managed to roll a 17, successfully locating Surge’s stolen seafaring supplies inside an unorganized storage closet.
“Caspita, that was easier than I thought” the elf wizard exclaimed.
“We must’ve gotten lucky with our entrance.” Kellan added. “I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if we waltzed right into them.
Syndra handed over the supplies to Belderyx, who stashed them safely inside of her backpack.
“So where do we go from here?” Kellan asked.
The druid realized something:
“There are no boats here…” she noticed.
“But that would mean…”
The door they previously peeped from suddenly swung open to reveal two confident Fiorans, looking very proud of themselves for whatever reason.
“Right on!” one of them exclaimed. “Our mates be back soon!”
“And when they back,” the other added. “You in a world of hurt!”
“Get ready for spectacular Fioran ambush!” they roared in unison.
“The blacksmith,” Veldris thought to herself. “Of course…”
“I knew we should’ve taken care of him when we had the chance.”
The cleric readied her shield, banging a mace against it to assert dominance.
“Try me.” she said.
Time to roll initiative!
Our heroes had 2 rounds to advance to a more tactical position, otherwise the other Fiorans in the hideout would swarm them at the docks.
Clandestine began the combat encounter by adjusting her aim and firing off a Sorcerous Burst at the Fioran blacksmith, hitting him for 4 points of acid damage that went right past his supposedly “impenetrable” armor.
“Impossible!” Fioran blacksmith (no. 3) exclaimed. “Me shall have your head, kid!”
The blacksmith attempted to jump across the railing, however, Veldris hit him mid-air with an opportunity attack from her mace, sending him tumbling down the docks and into the water, taking 4 bludgeoning damage from the mace and having to waste the rest of his movement speed on climbing back onto the docks.
Determined to teach his target a lesson, the Fioran blacksmith used his Mad Dash ability to try and reach Clandestine.
The cyclops rolled a 10, and so he tripped and fell down into the water once more. This time, however, he didn’t seem to be rising back up, as his armor was presumably too heavy for the blacksmith to stay afloat. Just like that, he was already out of the fight.
Emilia, inspired by the quick dispatching of Fioran no. 3, decided to position herself for a perfect Thorn Whip against Fioran no. 1.
As she cast the cantrip, she rolled a NATURAL TWENTY, pulling the unsuspecting pirate 10 feet towards her and into the water, while also piercing his leather armor for 6 hit points worth of damage.
Before he could drag himself out of the water, however, Belderyx approached the lower docks and used her draconic breath to freeze the water solid, trapping all the drowned and yet-to-drown Fiorans under its surface. The party won swiftly and elegantly.
The fight didn’t even last fifteen minutes, and so our heroes moved forward without expending any resources.
“G-Guys?” Syndra stammered.
“That’s no way out…” the wizard weeped.
“WHAT YOU STANDING FOR?!” Grumplegort roared. “GO GIT ‘EM!”
Time to roll initiative (again)!
Syndra wasn’t going to spare any resources this time around. It was do or die, so she cast Cloud of Daggers directly under the Big Boss and Fioran no. 8, hitting them both for 7 points of piercing damage and setting up a barrier between her and the attackers. She then retreated to safely maintain her concentration on the spell, and it was Kellan’s turn to shine.
He immediately rushed towards the Fioran scout who tried to leverage his high ground – high ground which the young bard had a creative way to deal with.
Using his Mobile Flourish, Kellan – upon slicing Fioran no. 10 for 8 points of damage with his katana – expended a use of his Bardic Inspiration to deal 5 extra points of slashing damage and push the pirate 10 ft. forward, sending him plummeting to the ground and slamming on a table for an additional 3 points of fall damage.
The very same scout then started his turn by standing up, looking around in a daze, then accidentally stumbling into the area of the Cloud of Daggers spell, taking 10 slashing damage and dropping to just 1 hit point.
“USELESS IDIOT,” Big Boss yelled, outraged. “WANT TO BECOME MINCEMEAT?!”
“A-Apologies, Big Boss.” Fioran no. 10 said, coughing up blood. “Me cannot walk straight… Me head hurting.”
Fioran no. 8 decided to step out of the area of Syndra’s spell, but not before taking 10 points of slashing damage, much like his friend from earlier. The pirate ran towards Syndra and attempted to smack her with his greatclub. He succeeded TWICE, bashing Syndra’s face in for 27 points of bludgeoning damage and IMMEDIATELY knocking her out.
Veldris watched in horror as her friend was effortlessly pummeled by a tactless brute. Her horror quickly turned into righteous fury, as it was finally her turn to strike.
First things first, Veldris healed Syndra for 8 hit points, bringing her right back into action. Next, she turned her fists to Fioran no. 8, hoping to beat him to death with her Unarmed Fighting Style, fueled by a rather nasty fit of clerical anger.
Veldris landed her punch – she didn’t secure the kill, but from the sound of it – she shattered a few of the pirate’s ribs, leaving him at just 6 hit points and with disadvantage on ability checks and attack rolls (due to the aforementioned broken ribs).
Fioran scout no. 6 quickly ran up to assist his crewmate, slamming Veldris with his greatclub for 8 points of bludgeoning damage in an attempt to surround her.
“Need some backup over here…” Syndra said.
Clandestine picked up on her mentor’s pleas, moving to cast Dissonant Whispers on Fioran no. 6 using her Beguiling Psionics feature. Unfortunately, the cyclops succeeded on his DC 14 Wisdom saving throw, taking only 5 psychic damage and resisting the astral tiefling’s influence.
“One more time…” she muttered. “Quickened Spell!”
Clandestine then expended two Sorcery Points to quicken her Dissonant Whispers spell, casting it for a spell slot this time around. The surprised Fioran pirate rolled a 6, taking 13 psychic damage in return while also having to spend his reaction to IMMEDIATELY move as far away from Clandestine as possible.
Fioran no. 8, surrounded by enemies and feeling his broken ribs with every breath, willingly surrendered to the party before Clandestine incapacitated him with psionic sleep.
“Amateurs.” Fioran scout no. 7 said. “Watch me do work, Big Boss!”
“Me no disappoint!” he said as he launched his javelin at Kellan, only to miss him by a good margin and instead get it stuck in a wall.
Finding the perfect moment to strike, Emilia expended one use of her Wild Shape to utilize her Draconic Shape feature, shapeshifting into a Brass Dragon Wyrmling.
In her new form, she spewed flames in a line heading directly towards the Fiorans numbered 7, 8, and 10 – completely disregarding the fact that no. 8 had already surrendered – Emilia, in her draconic form, incinerated them all on the spot.
Big Boss Grumplegort, pissed as all hells, called the other boss for help.
“NEED BACKUP.” he growled. “THEY GIT DRAGUNS!”
“No worries mate, Mazzerikh got it under contro-” he tried to say, but was dumbfounded at the sight of charred Fioran corpses strung in a neat line in front of him.
“WUZ HAPPENED HERE?!” the lesser boss blurted out.
“Filthy, rotten adventurers…” he grumbled. “Killing ME BOYS!”
“NOBODY KILLS ME BOYS ‘CEPT ME!” Mazzerikh roared, entering combat.
While the lesser boss distracted the party, Big Boss strode upstairs towards Kellan, somehow – maybe even miraculously – not collapsing the stairs with his weight.
Two warhammer swings were made at Kellan – one was a 17 and the other an 18. Before Kellan’s life could flash between his eyes, he remembered Syndra’s lessons:
“A swords bard should never venture out without a shield spell.”
“Bingo.” he thought.
“SHIELD!” the bard exclaimed – a shimmering aura of light appeared over Kellan, taking the shape of a celestial shield. It absorbed BOTH of the cyclops’s attacks, rendering them ineffective.
“RAAAAH!” Grumplegort bellowed. “STOP RESISTING, TRICKSTER KID!”
“ME PULVERIZE YOU!” he said, but it was the lesser boss’s turn now.
Mazzerikh raised his warhammer at Veldris – a swing and a miss – striking her for 14 points of bludgeoning damage. The cleric stumbled backwards a bit, feeling like her legs were about to give out.
“I-Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted him.
Seeing the drow elf’s determination in the face of danger, Fioran no. 9 knew this combat encounter was a losing battle. He made a difficult decision – the cyclops resorted to betraying his bosses, and not only ran away from the fight, but also torched the hideout so no witnesses could snitch on him for treason.
“Fucking hells.” Veldris murmured. “Feels like everyday we’re playing with fire.”
Belderyx shouted from a distance:
“GUYS, RETREAT!”
“WE’VE GOT COMPANY!”
Expecting the worst, Syndra looked behind her, only to see a familiar face heading towards them in a small rescue boat.
“EVERYBODY HOP ABOARD – this place is going to collapse ANY MINUTE now!” Surge exclaimed, cruising through the docks.
Hearing the tiefling’s voice made Emilia snap out of her draconic transformation. Once she regained mental clarity, she realized something:
“Wait, KELLAN!” she exclaimed.
“He’s all the way up there with the mad cyclops!” the druid yelped.
Veldris was mortified, but before she could process her feelings, Syndra already slid under the lesser cyclops boss and made a run for Kellan. The boy was flung all the way across the room after being hit with Big Boss’s warhammer – luckily, Syndra managed to catch him mid-air with a well-timed Jump spell.
“Got you,” she said. “It’s okay now, we’re getting out of here!”
She cradled the wounded bard in her arms and ran like hells, all while avoiding desperate, vengeful cyclopes and their giant warhammers swinging left and right.
As Veldris snapped out of her mortified stupor, she helped Syndra carry Kellan to safety, then hastily barricaded what remained of the hideout’s doors to the docks.
“Hurry!” Surge exclaimed.
“Just a second.” the cleric said, taking steady steps back while preparing to cast one final spell.
The two cyclopes tore through her barricades, roaring with vengeful fury and readying their weapons for a colossal swing. Veldris, however, was prepared.
“Hey, assholes…” the drow elf growled.
“No grave but the sea.” she said.
“GUIDING BOLT, LEVEL 2!”
As she cast the spell, the radiant bolt of energy that shot out of her hand tore right through Big Boss’s skull like a knife through butter. The cyclops wasn’t her intended target though. Instead, the bolt was aimed at the last remaining pillar that supported the hideout’s docks.
Before the cave completely collapsed, Veldris took a leap of faith, managing to just barely land on Surge’s boat.
“ROW FASTER.” she pressured the tiefling, and so he did.
Our heroes escaped the collapsing tunnels of Fioran Krew’s Ventasca-adjacent hideout, leaving behind nothing but charred and crumbled ruins of their local base of operations.
Chapter 5: Epilogue
After a good while of rowing across the river and through the nearby swamps, the party returned to Ventasca safe and sound.
“Honestly?” Surge said. “Good work, you all.”
“Mind if I take a look at my supplies though?”
Belderyx unpacked the retrieved goods and presented them to the tiefling.
“Much appreciated.” he said.
“You know, I haven’t been exactly straight with you guys…” he continued.
“But, since you risked your lives for something as silly as this, I should probably explain why it wasn’t that silly after all.”
As Surge unwrapped his bundle of seafaring supplies in front of the party, there was nothing ship-related to be found inside. At all. Instead, he pulled out a magically-heated bag woven from fine drow silk and embroidered in what appeared to be draconic runes. The tiefling gently caressed the bag before taking something out of it.
A dragon egg. Not just any dragon egg though, but an egg encased in magical ice.
“I’m not exactly sure what’s inside.” Surge said. “Maybe a white dragon?”
“Either way, it’s pretty neat.”
The party’s receptions were… mixed, to say the least.
- Kellan and Clandestine felt a bit cheated, if not outright betrayed – could they trust the tiefling after he was lying to them this whole time? Or maybe it was just for the sake of not willing to risk losing a precious commodity?
- Veldris was too tired to feign amazement, so she remained silent and indifferent.
- Syndra got curious, but not nearly enough as Emilia and Belderyx.
“This…” Emilia stammered. “That’s, umm… Can I have a look?”
“Sure.” the tiefling replied.
Emilia thoroughly inspected the item, concluding that there’s a brass dragon egg beneath its icy exterior.
“Didya really steal from a brass dragon?!” Belderyx exclaimed. “Are you mental?!”
“Nope.” he explained. “I found it in a ransacked laboratory, of all places.”
“As for how it got there, I haven’t got a clue.” Surge continued. “I didn’t get to keep it very long, as the Fiorans stole it from me.”
“But thanks to you all, I can actually think about what to do with the thing!”
“A brass dragon egg…” Emilia blurted out, entranced with the idea. “Oh man, those are my favorite.”
Surge grabbed the egg back and tucked it away safely inside of his backpack.
“Sorry for not telling you all sooner, but I just couldn’t risk it, y’know?” he said.
“Now that I know you’re all ride-or-dies, you can expect a favor of me in return.”
“It better be worth it then.” Veldris grumbled.
“‘Course it will – after all of this?” Surge said. “I’d do anything for you guys.”
Veldris pointed at her empty sack of what was once filled with gold pieces.
“How about you pay us first?” she said.
“Oh, right, of course.” the tiefling laughed. “Wouldn’t want to forget that, now, would we?”
“So… how much was it?” Surge inquired. “I genuinely forgot.”
Syndra was about to remind him of their agreed price, but Veldris, clearly tired of the tiefling’s bullshit, decided to demand twice as much.
“2000 gold pieces.” she said in a deadpan tone of voice, masking her blatant lie.
Surge’s ears perked up.
“Only?” he asked. “I really lowballed you, huh?”
“Let’s make it 4000 then!” the tiefling smiled. “You guys deserve it.”
Suddenly, Veldris felt like shit.
“We’ll take it…” she said through her teeth.
As Surge passed around several sacks of coins to the party members, Syndra made a remark:
“So you were well off after all…”
“‘Course I was.” Surge replied. “Not nearly as much as you locals, of course, but rich enough to afford new seafaring supplies.”
“I take it you lied to us because you didn’t trust us?” Syndra inquired.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, I liked you guys from the start.” Surge pouted.
“It’s just not something I would ever tell… anyone.” he said. “Not that I have anyone too close to me at the moment, but even if I did, I’d keep the egg thing to myself.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility, y’know?” Surge said. “Gods know how it ended up in that dingy lab.”
“I understand.” Syndra replied. “That being said…”
“You came to rescue us of your own volition, didn’t you?” she asked.
“You could have just as easily waited for the hideout to finish burning and gotten your stuff back later.” the elf continued. “It’s not like regular fire could melt the ice off of that egg, so it’d be 100% safe.”
“No risk, no payment, all the reward.”
Surge frowned disapprovingly.
“Yeah, but that wouldn’t be right, would it?” he said. “Pirates have principles too, believe it or not.”
Syndra smiled. Deep down, this is what she wanted to know all along; was he just another quest giver looking to do business, or a fellow heroic adventurer who could potentially assist her in her travels?
“Alright, how about this…”
“Would you like to join-” she said.
“No thank you.” Surge interrupted.
Syndra was left dumbfounded by the tiefling’s rapid answer.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to come off as rude or anything, it’s just,” he said. “I still have some favors I owe to a few people, and I’m stressing out about actually managing to deliver, y’know?”
“A-Ah, that’s fine.” Syndra said. “But you’ll consider once you’re done, right?”
Surge thought long and hard about what to say. He didn’t want to hurt the wizard’s feelings as she seemed like a nice woman, but he really didn’t feel like going back to adventuring in a group again, especially since his solo run was going along swimmingly.
His train of thought abruptly stopped when he realized the druid girl from earlier, hiding shyly behind her big draconic friend, was staring right into his soul with her olive green eyes – she was eagerly awaiting his response.
Surge felt something he had never felt before: his heart was pounding like it wanted to jump out of his chest. Although he didn’t recognize that feeling at the time, Surge had a hunch that he should embrace it. He had a hunch that maybe, just maybe, it was his gut trying to guide him in the right direction. That maybe the elf druid could help him out with the whole egg thing.
“Sure,” he replied to Syndra. “Once I’m done with my business, I think I can tag along.”
“EVVAI!” Syndra jumped for joy.
“I-I mean, umm, thank you for considering.” she said, collecting herself.
“I don’t know how you can keep insisting on bringing more people along.” Veldris muttered. “We can hardly feed everyone here thanks to Belderyx and her voracious appetite.”
“Come on, the more the merrier, right?” Surge said, smiling. “Either way, I’ll see you soon guys!”
Somehow, he still couldn’t take his eyes off the party’s druid, and neither could she.
There was something going on between them that neither the drakewarden ranger nor the dragonspeaker druid fully understood. It went further than just the mutual interest in dragons.
“What is this feeling?” they both thought.
Nevertheless, the party carried on back to Syndra’s place, where they would finally get some rest after a very long day. To celebrate her party’s successes, Syndra brought some of the wine she had stashed for special occasions. Emilia didn’t want any, Belderyx went blackout drunk, and Syndra herself got shitfaced together with her cleric teammate.
All in all, it was a nice, relaxing night.
