Aquiring a dragon egg
Session 5 May 2024
As the dark mage and Morph emerge from the vault, Farryn and I meet them with a sense of triumph, our spirits buoyed by the successful looting of the barracks. With a quick exchange of high fives, we celebrate our victories before turning our attention to the grim news delivered by Morph.
His pallid complexion betrays the seriousness of the situation, and my heart sinks as I hear his words. “I see you’re very happy, but everything downstairs is gone…” he murmurs, his voice trembling with unease.
Farryn’s jovial expression quickly fades, replaced by a furrowed brow and a steely gaze. “I don’t think this is a funny joke,” he retorts, his tone tinged with frustration.
The dark mage’s response is equally solemn. “It isn’t a joke,” he confirms, his voice heavy with regret.
Farryn and I exchange a glance, a silent communication passing between us as we assess the gravity of the situation. The tension in the air is palpable, and it’s clear that there’s no room for levity in this moment.
As Farryn’s anger boils over, I can feel the weight of disappointment settling in my chest. How could this have happened? Who could have orchestrated such a brazen theft, especially within the confines of the Shadowfell?
The blame game begins, accusations flying back and forth as frustration mounts.
Morph’s words hang heavy in the air as he recounts his experience of witnessing the treasure vanish before his eyes. Farryn’s disbelief mirrors my own as we struggle to comprehend the inexplicable disappearance of such a valuable hoard.
“You let the treasure disappear with your sword?” I explode, frustration bubbling to the surface. The implications of Morph’s account are too staggering to ignore, and I find myself grappling with a mix of anger and confusion.
“Why did I do this then? I don’t have treasure, I don’t have a dragon… WHY,” I lament, the weight of disappointment settling heavily upon me.
Despite the urgency of the situation, the task of dividing the loot takes precedence, and Farryn’s reminder pulls us back to the present moment. But I can’t shake the feeling of unease, the nagging sense that something isn’t right.
Interrupting the proceedings, I voice my concerns, unable to ignore the enormity of what we’ve lost. “Sorry, we are dividing stuff and we are just SKIPPING over the fact that we just lost the immense vault value?! I can’t,” I protest, my voice tinged with frustration.
Farryn’s response is measured, his focus unwavering even in the face of adversity. “Yeah, well the loot we must divide, the rest comes later,” he asserts, his determination clear.
As Morph suggests reaching out to Corvax for clarification, I can’t help but feel a surge of impatience. “Didn’t you do that already?” I exclaim, my frustration boiling over.
Morph’s attempt to contact Corvax yields no results, leaving us no closer to unraveling the mystery of the vanished treasure. The sense of unease lingers, casting a shadow over our otherwise triumphant return from the Zhentarim base.
As the dark mage reveals the nature of Morph’s patron, a sense of skepticism washes over me. The idea of communicating with a patron through a sword sounds fantastical, yet in our line of work, anything is possible. Still, the lack of familiarity with Morph’s patron leaves me uneasy, my trust in the situation wavering.
Farryn, driven by disbelief and determination, descends the stairs with the ring provided by Morph, hoping to uncover some clue amidst the shadowy depths below. I stay close to him, offering what support I can in the dimly lit surroundings.
Descending into the cold darkness of the shadowfell, I hand a torch to Farryn, knowing the importance of warding off the chilling aura of this realm. “The shadowfell gives me the creeps,” Farryn remarks, his unease palpable.
As we reach the lower level, my heart sinks at the sight of the missing mountain of molten gold. Farryn begins to search frantically, his hands groping in the darkness for any trace of the vanished treasure.
Suddenly, we are beset by shadows, their dark tendrils reaching out to drain our strength. Grond springs into action, using his immense strength to fend off the shadows, protecting me from harm.
But one of the shadows manages to strike me, draining me of my strength. With a sense of urgency, I take to the air, flying above the fray to avoid the grasping tendrils below.
From my vantage point, I spot a shadow closing in on Farryn and swiftly take aim, releasing an arrow to dispatch the sinister foe.
Over the mind link, we communicate our plight, alerting the others to the danger we face. In the midst of the chaos, we must remain vigilant, for the shadows of the shadowfell are not to be underestimated.
As Morph and the dark mage enter the scene, Grond springs into action, his massive form striking out at the unseen shadows. I remain poised, arrow nocked and ready, scanning the darkness for any sign of our elusive foes.
But as quickly as they appeared, the shadows dissipate into nothingness, leaving us in an eerie silence. I can’t help but feel a sense of unease at their sudden disappearance.
Turning to Morph, the dark mage voices his suspicions, “Morph, it seems you have an influence on this plane. The shadows vanished as soon as you entered. Your patron must be behind this.”
Morph seems perplexed by the notion, insisting that his patron is merely his sword. The dark mage offers an explanation, detailing how patrons forge deals with powerful entities to gain their favor and wield their influence.
With the mention of Corvax, the name of Morph’s supposed patron, my curiosity is piqued. We need to uncover the identity of this mysterious entity, especially if we’re to encounter it in Waterdeep.
The tension in the room is palpable as accusations fly between us. Farryn points a finger at the dark mage, accusing him of being the cause of the shadows’ disappearance, while the dark mage casts suspicion on Morph.
Morph’s revelation about his sword’s aversion to undead sheds some light on the situation, offering a plausible explanation for the shadows’ retreat. But the unease lingers, leaving us uncertain about our next course of action.
As the conversation turns to our next steps, I suggest tracking down those who fled the scene, advocating for a clean sweep to eliminate any potential witnesses, like Farryn said before. But my words hit a nerve, and I can see the hurt in Morph’s eyes at the suggestion of such ruthless tactics.
The revelation the dark mage does about Morph’s wings catches us off guard, and the implications sink in slowly. Enormous black wings, invisible to our eyes but apparently present nonetheless, the dark mage shares over the bond. It’s a troubling realization, one that adds another layer of complexity to our already precarious situation.
What I think is a BIGGER problem, is the thought that our hard-earned treasures could be slipping away due to some unseen force is infuriating. “This isn’t fair,” I mutter under my breath, feeling a surge of frustration and helplessness. I mumble: “I don’t have money, treasure, or a dragon… great…”
The mention of a dragon egg sends my excitement levels soaring to new heights. A dragon egg! The realization that my lifelong dream could be within reach fills me with an overwhelming sense of anticipation and longing. “Can I have it? I’ll do anything!” I blurt out, unable to contain my enthusiasm.
Farryn’s response, though tempered, doesn’t dampen my excitement entirely. “Maybe we can talk about it later,” he says, his tone suggesting that there might be hope for me yet. I nod eagerly, eager to discuss the possibility further when the time is right.
But my curiosity gets the better of me, and I can’t help but ask about the egg’s hatching time. Farryn’s uncertainty only fuels my eagerness, and I find myself hanging on his every word, desperate for more information.
The dark mage’s question about how Farryn acquired the egg prompts me to chime in with my own insights. “Borac,” he replies, setting my mind racing as I recall the countless reports and stories from the Golden Cauldron. I rattle off a list of past party members, each name sparking a memory of past adventures and encounters.
As we prepare to depart for Skullport, the grim reality of the Zhentarim’s resurrection capabilities weighs heavily on our minds. Burning the bodies of those we’ve defeated becomes a necessary task to prevent any potential resurrection attempts. With the help of the summoned tortles, we begin the somber process of disposing of the fallen.
The dark mage takes charge, directing the tortles to focus on the bodies of the more powerful individuals among the Zhentarim ranks. Meanwhile, I instruct them to gather and separate the clothing, knowing that Morph has a particular interest in it.
Morph’s gesture of gratitude towards Farryn is met with a mixture of surprise and appreciation. Removing a necklace, he offers it as a token of his thanks, acknowledging the bond forged through our recent endeavors.
In a similar vein, the dark mage presents me with a ring, intending to enhance my ability to communicate with dragons. However, knowing that I already possess this skill, I defer the gift to Farryn, recognizing its potential usefulness to him. In exchange, the dark mage offers me another ring, adorned with a heart symbol, promising to deepen my connections with creatures and enhance my magical abilities.
As he explains the purpose and effects of each item, including a mysterious dagger, I can’t help but marvel at the newfound strength and vitality radiating from him. His transformation is striking, a testament to the power and significance of the treasures we’ve uncovered.
As we make our way across the river towards the safehouse of Violence and Turbulence, my strength wanes, and my body trembles with exhaustion. With the help of Grond and the dark mage, we manage to support Farryn, but the effort leaves me feeling drained and nauseous.
Struggling to regain control over my trembling limbs, I hastily move away from the group, seeking solace and stability in the solitude of my own thoughts. The sensation of weakness gnaws at me, a stark reminder of the toll our recent encounters have taken on my body and spirit.
Arriving at the safehouse, we are greeted by Turbulence, whose sharp gaze takes in our weary appearances with concern. Her blunt assessment cuts through any pretense, acknowledging the toll our recent trials have exacted upon us.
“We’ve seen better days,” Farryn manages to reply, offering a weary smile in return
As we deliver the news of our success against the Zhentarim, I notice Violence’s subtle but unmistakable attraction to the dark mage. Her gaze lingers on him, and there’s a certain magnetism in the air whenever they’re near each other. Despite my efforts to remain focused on our accomplishments, a twinge of jealousy tugs at my thoughts. The dark mage is an invaluable member of our team, and the idea of him being drawn away by someone else unsettles me.
Inside the house, our companions react with surprise and admiration at the news of the Zhentarim’s demise. Turbulence’s curiosity prompts him to inquire about our methods, and I recount our recent exploits, from slaying the dragon to eliminating the remaining threats.
When Morph hints at the source of the dark mage’s newfound charm, I’m momentarily puzzled. A ring? It dawns on me that it must be some sort of magical enchantment, a glamour to enhance his appearance. While I can appreciate his newfound handsomeness, I can recognize it as a distraction.
I ask Farryn again for the dragon egg. He gives it to me.
As I hold the dragon egg in my hands, overwhelmed with emotion, tears stream down my cheeks. The weight of this precious gift from Farryn fills me with a profound sense of gratitude and awe. With a shaky voice, I express my deepest thanks to Farryn, feeling as though I could never truly repay him for this incredible gesture.
With the dragon egg safely in my possession, a renewed sense of purpose fills me. This is more than just a gift; it’s a symbol of hope and possibility, a tangible reminder of my dreams and aspirations.
As Farryn discusses our next steps, I nod in agreement. Going to Waterdeep seems like the logical choice, both to follow up on our previous endeavors and to aid the resistance in Skullport. We take some time to rest up first.
During the short rest, I take a moment to examine the dragon egg with reverent curiosity. Cradling it gently in my hands, I run my fingers over its smooth surface, marveling at the intricate patterns and the faint warmth it emits. With each passing moment, I feel a deeper connection forming between myself and this precious artifact of new life.
As I investigate the egg, I can’t help but wonder about the dragon that will one day emerge from its shell. What adventures will we share together? What bond will we forge? The possibilities seem endless, and my heart swells with anticipation for the future. I’ve read a lot about dragons and dragon eggs, and I see that this is a magma dragon egg. I can hatch it, and it needs to be in magma to do so.
The dark mage approaches and gives me a ring and a dagger. I take them both simultaneously. He also says he can create a demi-plane for hatching the egg for me, after Mimi the Mimic is done devouring the phylactery. With the dagger of shadowblade in hand, I sense its faint whisper, like a distant echo in the recesses of my mind. Patience’s warning rings in my ears, a reminder to stay vigilant against any attempts to influence my thoughts or actions. I grip the dagger tightly, resolved to wield its power wisely and cautiously.
As the rest draws to a close, I tuck the dagger and the ring safely away, feeling a sense of readiness and determination wash over me. With the dragon egg cradled protectively in my arms, I rise to my feet, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead with courage and resolve.
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