The Barrow Bog — a marsh a few hours' walk southwest of Helix that, famously, contains the extensive subterranean network of barrows known as the Barrowmaze.

Dragonkin trace their ancestry back to a true dragon of antiquity, and are humanoid in appearance to the degree that they can pass for human, elf, or half-elf most of the time. Often, dragonkin possess some minor physical features suggestive of their ancestry, such as a forked tongue, or scales on their chest or back, or taloned hands.

Dragonkin receive a +1 bonus on reaction checks from simple and true dragons, and from dragonborn.

Bryce Lightstep — a ranger who lives in the vicinity of Phandalin. It is rumored — though not by many — that Bryce is a member of the Harpers.

Session 15 Phandelver Tabletop Campaign

30th May 2024 (6:00-8:45 CST) 2.75 hr session; cumulative: 44.25 hrs

Postponed from 23rd May 2024 to 30th May 2024 due to Vivian's birthday party.

In our most recent tabletop session two weeks ago (16 May 2024), Thraxis — your friend the dragonkin expert from the Brotherhood of the Seekers in Helix — had made you aware of an emergent threat in the swamp to the southwest.

Traveling there, the Phandalin Four dealt successfully with Anataraxis, a dracolich — thanks in part to due to surprising the monster, but also due to teamwork, as Feyre and Celaena dealt with giant zombies while Lanky took full advantage of his expert skills and magic items to make a devastating surprise attack on the dracolich.

The encounter was over in less than a minute. In Lanky's expert opinion, the monster must have only recently moved to this enclave in the swamp, for the treasure pickings after combat were relatively slim: only a few thousand gold pieces worth of loot, and many of that in the form of valuable equipment or art objects that, were it not for the portable pocket dimension carried by Celaena, would have required multiple trips to get it back to Helix.

The party joint treasure is now valued at 18,000 GP! That's enough to improve a couple magic items. Or, to take one of you to Level 13.

Everyone attained OVL 12 last time. Lanky now has access to heroic deeds that can considerably increase his Circle and Backstab damage. As a 4th level ranger, Celaena now has two favored enemies — drow and illithids (mind-flayers) — and will now be a whirling dervish against those sorts of enemies. And Feyre gained her first level in necromancer. A necromancer is immune to level- and ability-drain attacks, and his companions get a bonus equal to the necromancer's level on saving throws against necromantic effects.

And so, you are back at your farm. Xaiko, Saphira, and Vrakthis are absent. They spend much of their time nowadays hunting. Dwargon has gotten word to the Seeker Brotherhood via Todd the Troglodyte that skeletons are boiling out of the swamp from the location where the dracolich was defeated — a sure sign that the monster is slowly reforming.

As has become his wont a couple nights each week, Thraxis has stopped to visit and have supper with you, and is explaining, "So, it turns out that any sort of lich, whether it formed from a dragon or humanoid, has a very special magical item called a phylactery. This magic item holds their soul if their physical form is destroyed, and also powers the gradual reformation of their body. Only if this phylactery is destroyed can a lich be permanently defeated."

In Session 15, the party traveled to the city of Sizemordicus, where Lanky used his extensive underworld connections to discern the location of the Geppettin Lair beneath the city's sewers.

To get there, the party defeated some wererats and a massive alligator in the sewers. They then successfully negotiated with Vatarexus, a vampire and guild master of the city's thieves' guild.

Lancaster struck a deal with the vampire to start thieves' guilds in Helix and Phandalin, and netted himself a 10,000-gp sign-on bonus. The party recovered Chucky the Geppettin warlock and headed back to their farm on the western outskirts of Phandalin.

Cranstonthorpe — a thorpe of 288 souls situated in low hills northwest of Smokeshadow.

Divine Censure (1st level clerical)

A 1st level clerical spell that normally must be prayed for (along with other clerical spells for the day). It inflicts one d6 (per two full clerical levels) of radiant damage on a target within 30 feet. Constitution save for 1/2, but inflicts minimum 1 damage to vulnerable target.

Taking it to the Blackblades

Previous story post

? words

An hour has passed. Krelg sits patiently beside Revole. Another ten minutes passes, during which the halfling and the half-orc maintain their silent vigil among the trees on the bluff overlooking the abandoned stone quarry. And then, the slightest hint of indrawn breath from the half-orc. Revole sits unmoving, but mildly impressed. His companion is no thief, but nor is he a slouch at this cloak and dagger business.

Below, a pair of gnolls has come to the edge of the flooded quarry, the two carrying a lengthy pole between them. One gnoll takes the pole and begins lowering it into the water of the flooded quarry while the other produces a slate board and piece of chalk. Revole cuts his eyes at his fellow spy, to ensure he's clocking what's taking place. Below, the gnoll with the pole has lowered it as far as it will descend, apparently. He squats, reads something marked on the pole, and speaks to his fellow, who scratches out something on the slate with the chalk.

After a couple more minutes and a discussion between the two gnolls that cannot quite be heard by those watching from the hill, the quarry below is again abandoned, it's visitors having retreated up a hill on the far side of the quarry. At the top of a spur, the gnolls veer to the north. "They're heading to rejoin their patrol," says Revole.

"Then we follow and kill them?" Krelg asks, hopefully.

"That would make for two less to fight, down the road, but no. It would also tip off the greater pack, and there's no sense doing that," the halfling muses.

"How can this be their hideout?" Krelg grunts, stands and offers the seated halfling a hand rising to his feet. When that small arm rises, the hand that grips his is notably smaller — but oh, so strong! Their eyes lock for a moment, and then the half-orcs track the sleeve-covered arm to the halfling's hand, strangely blackened and with tough, calcine spurs and ridges.

Revole comes to his feet, still gripping the half-orc. He tightens his grip further and Krelg grunts in pain, "Enough! You've made your point. Small you may be, but far from weak. Where did you find such strength? There is clearly a story here."

"There is, indeed, Krelg, but it's not one that I'm free to tell. Suffice it to say that I don't want to get on the wrong side of the one who made me this way — and you don't want to get on my bad side, friend half-orc. I trust you're smart enough that you won't require further proof?"

"More than smart enough, friend halfling. Krelg is no wizard or alchemist, but he knows to be afraid of halflings who are stronger than he, and is content to let mysteries be. Krelg also knows that there is far more to your companion, the sorcerer, than can be seen with the eyes."

Revole Ting looks up at the half-orc and grins. "Why, Krelg, you're a philosopher!" And then the halfling's bemusement subsides: "My half-orc compatriot is correct that there are unseen depths here. Oh, and a minor correction: Lord Ember is a warlock; no sorcerer, he. A time will come when he will give you an order. Your life in that moment will hinge upon whether you obey swiftly, or instead look to your Nergalian priestess for her agreement."

A couple hours later Krelg and Revole are seated in their makeshift camp in a dry gully paralleling Fern Creek as it winds its way southeasterly from the hills above Cranstonthorpe toward Smokeshadow.

Inns & Taverns

Shrieken Mire, The — a swamp located in Slaytonthorpe that is reputedly home to a very large tribe of blue goblins.

Inzeldrin — an old green dragon that resides in Shrieken Mire, in Slaytonthorpe.