We experience some major personal drama at the Roaringhorn Gala, as well as a solid lead on our Zhentarim target.
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SCHEDULING NOTE: Next week’s session has been moved up to Thursday (10/12) to accommodate a wedding on Friday. Same start time.
Previously on “Storm King’s Thunder”
“Monsieur Kazin.” A voice spoke with startling authority from behind us. I stiffened. Bryseis shot me a questioning glance backwards, but continued on outside the hall to follow Halfred and Diero.
I turned around to face a nobleman I didn’t recognize. I was instantly suspicious.
The man smiled thinly. “The Lady Atalia wishes she could be here.”
I stiffened, my mind a whirl. I walked up close and thrust my face into his. He didn’t so much as blink. “How the hell did you know we’d be here in Neverwinter?”
“We are in many places.”
“Who are you?”
“I represent a group you have meddled in the affairs with.”
I grinned, summoning up all the swagger I could muster. “We’re rather good at that.”
“Indeed. I come here tonight not as an enemy but as a friend. Your meddling is due to our poor choice of allies.”
“I don’t know you or your allies.”
“You’ve encountered us in Yartar. Our activities have been severely sent back, and you killed one of our number in Xantharl’s Keep.”
I steadied my voice and my gaze. “Who are you? Cut the bullshit. I could reach into your mind and pluck the information out if I wanted to.”
A voice rang out in my head, intrusive, confident. “And I could do the same” it spoke.
I tried to calm myself and remember my training, but my body shook with rage. At hearing Attalia’s name thrown out like a weapon. At this creature using the powerful psychic gifts as a force of subversive evil.
The man went on, “I would like to extend an olive branch-“
I lashed out and grabbed him. He balked at my sudden physical assault, letting me get a solid grip and drag him out of the feast hall like a child throwing a tantrum, hoping no one took much notice.
Outside the giant doors and into the large, but empty hallway I threw him to the ground. The man sprang up in a rage, his face melting into that of a Deep Scion, mouth separating into toothy quadrants, hair turning into slimy tentacles.
I focused my anger as my psi-glaive manifested in my hands. We squared off, and I saw Korinn in the corner of my eye begin hurrying over in response.
I took a deep breath and centered my thoughts on the creature. This was not the time nor the place. I planted a thought in its mind: we were no harm, and it should report that to its masters.
The creature’s form was once again enveloped into the human noble. He blinked a few times, sneered at me, then went to get his coat and leave. I took several deep breaths, and rejoined the others.
Continue reading “D&D 5E “Storm King’s Thunder” Session 24 Recap”