After our defeat at Bengirr’s hands, we exited the warehouse but were quickly set upon by the city watch. Apparently our dispute had drawn a bit of attention, and as we were unable to tell an entirely convincing story—certainly not on account of my ill-timed interjection of the whole encounter merely being a sparring exercise—the city jail served as our bed for the night.
We were released the next morning and quickly made for Skelg’s home. Given our failure to stop Bengirr, Skelg’s status was unknown at the time. On setting foot on his property, the guards we’d bested previously returned to life, their limbs and bones frigid and driven with mindless rage. They were easily dispatched and inside we found both Skelg and Tyros to have suffered similar fates. We defeated them and searched for Adril to no avail.
On our way back to the inn we noticed a figure trailing us, similar to one I’d seen while in Sandpoint. We pursued the nameless shadow to the docks but lost track of the figure and returned to the inn even more wary of our surroundings. Some of the others had not actually seen the figure and followed anyway, yet even I doubted myself on our return to the Randy Priestess.
The next morning the figure returned to track us, and this time we successfully tracked him back to an inn at the docks, freshly painted and standing out amidst a row of dilapidated structures. The Unlucky Sailor faced the water, its main door unmoving and tracks leading around back. We forced our way into the building and found an unconscious man draped over a bar, accosted by some unarmored spellcaster.
Thugs joined the fray and we dispatched the brutes, leaving only the druid as a prisoner and discovered a group of captured citizens that were to be sent into slavery. The purpose of their labor was to be temples built to beings the druid would not name, only rambling that the world would be cleansed in acid, cold, lightning, fire and poison.
That sounded a bit too familiar. Blackfang wielded acid against us, and the green dragon we encountered used poison as its weapon. Our prisoner confirmed my suspicions—dragons. She held a silver pendant of a dragon, burned and tarnished; nobody in the party or that we rescued could identify it, and the symbol did not belong to a deity I am familiar with. This will require further investigation. With luck, perhaps someone at the museum or one of the temples in the city can identify its affiliation.
The guards were fetched and the captives turned over. The druid repeatedly mentioned “Ismacco”, a slaver taking the six to the “Prancing Prince”, what we believe to be a boat located at or near the docks. The nearest temple was being constructed on the ruins of the Irespan itself. Our immediate course at this point is set. We must find the Prancing Prince, end these slavers, and thwart their construction of this temple.
I fear that may only be the beginning.