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Session 50, Sal's Emporium & the Black Dragon Cult Ambushes
Paldegora

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Session 50 – 2025-04-12
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**Summary**

In the dusty, clamor-filled streets of Three Forks, a band of adventurers were taking the necessary careful steps, intent on avoiding unwanted attention. Rincewind (Symon), Shia (Eryn), Clark (Cal-El), and Rebecca (Cassandra) moved through the outpost, their true identities masked by aliases, while Francesca (Angelique) and Thralf (Xor) trailed invisibly behind, slipping through shadows and alleys to keep their companions in sight. Their goal was clear: secure supplies and a means of travel without drawing the eyes of the guild or other prying forces.

Their path led them to a gaudy banner proclaiming Smiling Sal’s World of Wagons & Emporium. Before the merchant’s shop stood a table laden with trinkets, tended by a short, grey-haired man dressed in flamboyant attire. As the group approached, Sal spun around with theatrical flair, launching into an exuberant pitch.

“Friends! Step right up to Sal’s World of Wagons & Emporium—where the deals roll in, the treasures pile high, and every adventurer’s dream finds its ride!” he bellowed, his eyes gleaming with merchant’s zeal. He presented a shimmering feathered quill, claiming it was plucked from a desert phoenix, promising endless ink for a mere fifteen gold pieces. Rincewind, a scholar at heart, haggled half-heartedly, more intrigued by the wagons than Sal’s grandiose tales.

Eryn inquired about the wagons, prompting Sal to unveil two options: the Traveler’s Pride, a weathered beast for 200 gold, and the Stalwart Hauler, a sturdy, smaller cart for 180 gold. After debate—Rincewind noting the larger wagon’s capacity versus the group’s modest needs—they settled on the Stalwart Hauler, bartering Sal down to 160 gold. With their new ride secured, Rincewind slipped away to the magic shop, purchasing ten caterpillar cocoons for two copper each, essential for his burgeoning magical talents.

Cassandra took the reins, guiding the wagon to the magic shop’s front, where Angelique, still unseen, clambered aboard. Xor, also invisible, remained outside the wagon but very close and out of the way of the people in the crowded streets. Wary of the guild’s presence in the tavern, the group opted to bypass it, heading south along the road, blending into the stream of travelers.

As they were departing Three Points, a stern figure approached: Garrett Stoneforge, a caravan leader clad in creaking leather, escorting two families in rickety wagons. “Bound for Middlesfeld,” he declared, his brow furrowed with concern. “The wilds east of the Firetip Mountains crawl with bandits. There’s safety in numbers—will you join us?” Behind him, Kell with his wife and child and Tobin with his wife and two children, two families huddled, their faces etched with concern and even a little fear. Garrett offered 50 gold for their company, and despite initial suspicion—heightened by their invisible allies—the adventurers agreed, merging their wagon with the caravan.

The first day passed quietly, the chill of winter deepening as night fell. Camped in a grove, they shared watches with Garrett, the night uneventful save for the dropping temperatures. Xor, his invisibility fading, joined the group openly, warming by the fire as Garrett shared tales of his mercenary past. The second day dawned colder, a dreary slog through spitting snow, until midday, when the calm steady plodding was shattered.

A cry pierced the air. Three figures stumbled into view: a young girl, Tula, and two adults, fleeing from four riders in black armor, dragon banners snapping in the wind. The cultists struck without mercy—blades cutting down the adults in a spray of blood. Tula, wounded, collapsed near the caravan, gasping, “They attacked our village, took my sister!”

The adventurers leapt into action. Cassandra charged, blades flashing, while Cal’s arrows struck true. Xor toppled a rider by felling his horse, and Rincewind’s magic missiles rained down. Angelique, invisible, tried to comfort Tula but startled her instead. The cultists fell swiftly, their dark banners trampled. From the shadows, a familiar figure—Kalandra, the Shadow Blade—struck at Rincewind, only to fall to Angelique’s magic missiles and Rincewind’s bear-form assault. Tula, bandaged but inconsolable, spoke of a massacre, her sister among the captured.

Garrett offered to hold the caravan while the adventurers investigated Tula’s village. Trekking an hour or so off the main road, they descended into a forested valley, arriving at sunset to an eerie silence. The village stood intact—no fires, no cries—only the stench of death seeping from the homes. Inside, they found bodies piled against walls, blood-streaked drag marks leading to back rooms. No survivors answered their calls.

As they searched, cultists ambushed them from the bushes. Cassandra plunged into the fray, Xor and Eryn struck from behind, and Cal’s blades danced with lethal precision. Rincewind’s levitation spell faltered, but the group’s teamwork prevailed, cutting down their foes. The cultists bore the same dragon insignia, their gear yielding magical swords, gold, and no clues to the captives’ fate. A faint path into the woods offered hope, but after hours of tracking, it faded into nothing.

Returning to the caravan at dawn, weary and empty-handed, they faced Tula’s desperate hope. “Did you find my sister?” she pleaded. Cassandra gently broke the grim truth: only death remained in the village, the trail lost. Tula’s sobs echoed as Xor held her, guiding her to rest in Garrett’s wagon.

Angelique, now visible and feigning illness to explain her absence, examined their haul: magical swords (+1), a Dagger of Venom, a Cloak of Elvenkind, and Boots of Striding and Springing—treasures from Kalandra’s corpse. Rincewind chronicled their findings, the caravan resuming its southward trek at dawn, shadowed by the Firetip Mountains and the cult’s looming threat.

The road to Middlesfeld stretched ahead, fraught with peril and mystery. Yet, with each step, the adventurers’ resolve hardened, their bond forged in battle and loss. Their tale, far from finished, promised to ripple through the chronicles of the ages.

This is where the session ended.

Please start the recorder.

Exp: 450 + 45 = 495 


**Detail**

The dusty streets of Three Points bustled with activity as Eryn, Cassandra, Cal, and Symon wandered through the market, their eyes scanning for a wagon to aid their travels. A large sign caught their attention: "Sal's World of Wagons and Emporium." Approaching the entrance, they noticed a merchant's table laden with various goods. A short, hefty man, dressed in gaudy attire, busied himself arranging items, his back turned to them.

Symon, under his alias Rincewind, reminded the group, “Before we leave, I need to stop by the magic shop. I feel… different. Like I could do things I couldn’t before. Magic, maybe?”

The merchant, hearing their approach, spun around with a flourish. “Friends, step right up to Sal’s World of Wagons and Emporium, where the deals roll in, the treasures pile high, and every adventurer’s dream finds its road!” He grinned, introducing himself as Salmoneus. “What do we have here? Scholars, historians, chroniclers of destiny! I see the spark of brilliance in your eyes, the weight of parchment in your souls. You need more than a wagon—you need inspiration!”

Salmoneus reached under the table and pulled out a velvet pouch, revealing a shimmering feather quill with a dramatic flourish. “Behold, the Quill of Qarath-Khazim, plucked from the tail of an elusive desert phoenix! This isn’t just a quill, my learned friends—it’s a miracle. Dip it once, and it holds ink for days, even weeks. Its smoothness is like silk, whispering across parchment. Every stroke a masterpiece, every word a song.” He leaned in, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Normally, I’d charge a sultan’s ransom—50 gold, no less. But for discerning minds like yours, I’ll part with it for a mere 15 gold pieces, and I’ll throw in a wax seal with a vaguely mystical squiggle for free. What do you say?”

Symon, skeptical, examined the quill without touching it. “Fifteen gold seems pricey for a quill.”

Salmoneus waved off the concern. “A steal for what it is! Think of scroll after scroll of genius and majesty rolling off this pen.” When Symon requested a demonstration, Salmoneus demurred, admitting he wasn’t an artist with the pen but suggested bundling the quill with a wagon purchase.

He gestured to the wagons behind him. “Not just any wagon, my friends! Behold the Traveler’s Pride—200 gold, a majestic beast of burden. Its canvas, once emerald, now a distinguished gray, keeps the rain out… mostly. Weathered wood, sturdy as a titan’s spine, and a wheel with character—a little wobbly, but that’s just charm.” He pointed to another. “Or the Stalwart Hauler, 180 gold, built to outlast the ages. Patched canvas, brown and bold, with a creak that’s the sound of history in motion.”

Eryn, unimpressed, remarked, “We’re doing pretty good walking for now.”

Salmoneus, undeterred, yanked a tattered, embroidered cloak from a crate. “The Cloak of the Chronicler, woven by blind seers in mists so thick even dragons get lost. Repels rain, shrugs off dust, and whispers forgotten lore under moonlight. Worth 40 gold, but for you, eight gold, and I’ll toss it in with a wagon.”

Symon inspected the cloak, noting its vibrant, mismatched colors. “Do horses come with the wagon?”

Salmoneus nodded eagerly, directing them to inspect the wagons. Xor and Angelique, under their aliases Throlf and Francesca were invisible. They were waiting between buildings, out of the traffic, keeping an eye on the rest of the company. The others examined the wagons, finding them used but serviceable. Cassandra checked the wheels, particularly the “characterful” one, ensuring it was sturdy despite its wobble.

After some haggling, the group settled on the Stalwart Hauler for 160 gold. Salmoneus handed over the reins, beaming. “A pleasure doing business with you!". 

With the wagon purchased, Symon, Cal, and Eryn headed to the magic shop while Cassandra stayed with the wagon, keeping it out of the way. Angelique and Xor, still hidden, whispered about their new acquisition. At the shop, Symon inquired about caterpillar cocoons for a spell, purchasing ten for two silver pieces, splitting the cost with Cal.

As they prepared to leave Three Points, the group discussed their next move. Symon suggesting they might go into the tavern and see if they can gather information about their target—a wanted figure. They decided it might be too dangerous to enter the inn, wary of the guild pursuing them. They decided to head south and out of town.

With Cal and Cassandra driving the wagon, Xor scouting ahead, invisible. Angelique, invisible as well, remained hidden in the wagon. Symon walked along beside the wagon. They took the south road. As they were leaving town, the group encountered a man, Garret Stoneforge, leading two family wagons. He introduced himself, explaining his group was bound for Middlesfeld, south down the Tauran Road. “The wilds east of the Firetip Mountains crawl with bandits lately. The more souls on the move, the more blades in the shadows. Would you join our caravan? There’s safety in numbers, and I can pay 50 gold once we reach Middlesfeld.”

Symon, cautious, questioned Garret’s motives. Garret explained the families—Kell, Tavi, and Sura Brightflame, and Turbin, Mara, Lilia, and Jorin Heartswale—wanted to escape the north’s dangers. After inspecting the wagons and finding no threats, the group agreed to join, with Garret taking the lead.

They traveled south, the day growing colder as winter tightened its grip. By nightfall, Garret suggested camping in a grove. The group set up wagons and built campfires. Xor broke the invisibility spell, out of sight of the group, and then joined them. He'd simply told them he had been scouting ahead. He later, slipped food to Angelique in the wagon. Garret and the families cooked meals, inviting the group to join. Cal and Xor scouted the perimeter, finding no threats.

Garret offered to take a watch shift, and Cal volunteered for the first, followed by Garret and Cassandra. The night passed uneventfully, though the cold deepened. In the morning, Symon cast an invisibility spell on Angelique, ensuring she remained hidden. Xor continued scouting ahead as the caravan resumed its journey.

The second day was dreary, with clouds spitting snow. Traffic dwindled, and the group remained vigilant, but nothing disturbed their progress. That night, they camped again, repeating the watch routine. Cassandra, Garret, and Cal took shifts again, and Symon renewed Angelique’s invisibility.

On the third day, two days south of Three Points, a cry shattered the midday calm. A small girl, Tula, her clothes tattered and feet caked with dirt, stumbled toward the caravan, followed by two haggard adults. Behind them, four riders in black armor, bearing dragon banners, thundered down the road. The riders cut down the adults with brutal efficiency—one beheaded, another impaled. An arrow grazed Tula’s side, and she collapsed near the caravan, screaming, “Help! They attacked my village! They took my sister!”

Cassandra leaped from the wagon, rushing to engage. Symon cast a magic missile, striking one rider for 13 damage. Eryn charged forward, standing protectively beside Cassandra. Xor, roaring, attacked a horse’s legs, felling it and dealing 12 damage, causing the rider to tumble for four more. Cal drew his swords, joining the fray, landing a critical hit for 16 damage, killing a rider. Angelique, invisible, slipped out of the wagon. She attempted to guide Tula under the wagon to safety, but the girl, terrified, screamed and scrambled away.

As the fight raged, a familiar figure—Kalandra, a known enemy—appeared behind Symon, her dagger missing him narrowly before she sprang back. Symon, casting a spell, transformed into a massive bear, roaring and attempting to claw Kalandra, but stumbled, missing. The remaining riders attacked, one trampling Xor for five damage and striking him for three more. Cassandra and Eryn parried blows, while Cal and Xor cut down another rider.

Angelique cast magic missiles at Kalandra, dealing nine damage, revealing herself. Kalandra fell motionless. Symon, as a bear, sat on Kalandra, but felt no resistance—she was dead, possibly from prior wounds or poison. The last rider fled, but Eryn’s arrow struck him down for 14 damage.

Cal tended to Tula, bandaging her wound. She sobbed, explaining the riders attacked her village, killed her parents, and took her sister. Garret offered to protect Tula with the caravan, allowing the group to investigate the village. Symon tied up Kalandra’s body, tossing it into the wagon, suspecting she might not be truly dead.

The group searched the riders, collecting 50 gold, four suits of scale mail, and swords marked with a dragon symbol. They claimed three horses, noting their cultist brands. Angelique cast *detect magic*, identifying Kalandra’s dagger as a *Dagger of Venom*, her cloak as a *Cloak of Elvenkind*, her boots as *Boots of Striding and Springing*, and the cultists’ swords as *+1 magic swords*.

Cal, Eryn, Symon, and Xor headed to Tula’s village, a small settlement down a winding path. Symon transformed into a crow to scout ahead. The village was eerily silent, with no lights or sounds. They found bloodstains and drag marks leading to houses filled with bodies, the stench of death heavy. Checking each building, they confirmed the slaughter, finding no survivors. 

They were ambushed by 6 more Black Dragon Cultist. After several rounds, they defeated them. They looted them and then looked for tracks to see where the people who were taken, went. Tracks led west into the woods, but after hours of following, they faded.

The group returned to the caravan at 3 a.m. Angelique, feigning weakness, explained her presence to Garret, claiming she’d been resting but joined the fight to help Tula. Tula, learning her village was lost, broke down. Eryn gently restrained her, and Garret provided a bedroll, where she cried herself to sleep.

As the group rested, Garret kept watch, the weight of the day’s violence lingering. The caravan prepared to move on, uncertain of what lay ahead but resolute in their journey.

This is where the session ended.

Please start the recorder.

Exp: 450 + 45 = 495