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Session 50, Sal's Emporium & the Black Dragon Cult Ambushes Paldegora
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Session 50 – 2025-04-12 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
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 Forks, a stern figure approached: Garrett Stoneforge, a caravan leader clad in creaking leather, escorting two families in rickety wagons. “Bound for Middleville,” he declared, his brow furrowed with concern. “The wilds east of the Fire Tip 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 Fire Tip Mountains and the cult’s looming threat.
The road to Middleville 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.
Exp: 450 + 45 = 495