A Land Far Away

A short, blonde haired man approaches the barkeep

"I need a room for an extended period of time. A month should do for now, but I expect I'll be there longer." Dirk gives the barkeep a pouch of coins and takes the key to his room upstairs. Once there he pulls out the piles of paper, an inkwell, and a couple of quills he had in his bag, and sets them down on the table. He was taught how to write by his late wife, but he rarely found the occasion to put these skills to work after her passing. However, this latest quest was more than a simple mission. It required careful, organized planning, and records of what they found. What they were doing was dangerous, and it needed to be recorded, both for their safety, but also to record what is known, so that, should they should die, others would be able to pick up from where they left off.

In clumsy, error ridden handwriting, he begins.

Here is what I know. We have been hired by a man who's name I cannot write for fear that it violates the contract we made with him, so for the time being I will call him "the Benefactor". He has hired us to kill someone, Jeneleth, a part-demon spawn monster that lairs somewhere in the Underdark and is staging some sort of plot in the Undercellar, beneath Baldur's Gate. We know very little about Jeneleth, other than she holds some power over the Benefactor and is a part-demonspawn, capable of creating or goading undead creatures to do her bidding. There is another person, Deveral, who is some kind of Lieutenant under Jeneleth. We found a scroll writing about him, but have yet to meet him in person. The letter mentioned "turning a few each night" to build an army to "fight the dukes". It doesn't sound good.
We have been exploring the Undercellar every week. I will write what I have learned, before inviting the others to add their knowledge. Madeleine in particular, has been making very detailed maps of where we have gone and what we have seen.
The Undercellar is teeming with undead. We have fought everything from zombies, wraiths, floating skulls, and allips, to great undead elementals. Our enemies sap our strength, our wits, and our life, but we press on. However, devices to protect ourselves from being drained should be looked into. We are lucky enough to have found a cleric, Olin who we hope can cast spells of restoration and protection. Some of these creatures are immune to weapons without enchantments, some have ways of avoiding non-magical attacks altogether. It is harrowing down there, to say the least. But, my lust for the purging of all things undead, finds some satiation in our destruction of these creatures.
First of all, to get down there you need a way into the Undercellar. A clever rogue can pick lock on a grate near the market and find their way down. There is also a secret entrance in the Helm and Cloak, which is what we most commonly use. Before you can go too deep however, you'll need to find yourself in the possession of one of these strange copper orbs that a few of our party possesses.
This takes us to a strange bridge that leads down to some kind of ruins under the city. Whether this is part of the Underdark or not I cannot say. Entering the ruins, there is a locked door that requires the activation of a switch that can be found from a room to the right, often crawling with loathsome undead.
From there, my memory grows hazy. It is a maze of hallways and passages. I'll simply recall what we have learned of a couple of the key rooms, and hope Madeleine will be able to sort out a comprehensible map of where all of it is.

• One of the rooms, behind a locked and trapped door, is a room with a portal. While attempting a divination I have found the portal is one-way, but all I see on the other side is darkness and void. My divination skills require more practice, or we need a more practiced diviner to find out where it goes, and I suggest we have some kind of knowledge of where it takes us before we go in, lest we enter a realm of death with no way to return. A door at the back of the portal room takes us to a bedroom where we found the scroll about Deveral.

• Another room was some kind of church, with a symbol drawn on the wall. We also found a cloak with the matching symbol, currently in the possession of Zenia, a member of the party. To the best of my memory the symbol looked like this:

• There is also a throne room we found, where we fought a pale man that dissipated into gas when he was killed. I have my suspicions this is a vampire, though there is no tangible evidence due to his vanishing act. In this room there was a skeleton seated on a throne, with a ring on its finger that Darick took and is currently wearing. I have suspicions of this room... it seems too empty and warrants further investigation

• There was a room full of sarcophagi that also warrants further investigation. We didn't discover much in this room, and weren't able to open any of the coffins as of yet, but if there are vampire down here, this might have something to do with them.

• There is also a strange altar to dragons, with miniature skeletal dragons set up. We haven't investigated this room much.

At this point Dirk pushes off the table and wipes his brow. He gathers what he has written and bundles it up in to scrolls, before snuffing the candle he used to write and going to bed.

In the morning I'll find the others and have them add what they know.

Awoken by a loud knock at the door, Dirk groans and rolls out of the small inn bed. Still recovering from his forays into the Undercellar, his body aches and his muscles protest every movement. Dipping a calloused hand into the pail on his night-table, Dirk brings a handful of water to his lips before splashing his face with another cupped palm. The liquid spatters cool against his skin as the knocking persists. Quickly searching the room, Dirk finds his beloved pipe stashed under his stack of papers from the night before. He stuffs the bowl tightly as he moves to answer the door. Slowly turning the knob, he pulls gently, the wood moving to reveal a large man, stern-faced and clean-shaven. He is clad in elegant though worn full plate armour with a shining helmet pressed under one arm. A short sword is sheathed on his opposing hip and the large shield strapped to his back fills out the remainder of the doorway. The man steps into the room with a light but distinctly metallic thud.

“Dirk. Good to see you up and well. You said you wanted to meet this morning. We have some business to go over.”

Wedging the pipe firmly between his lips, Dirk steps aside and busies his hands. He strikes a small block of flint with a tapered steel rod directing sparks at the pipeweed until it begins to smolder. Taking a deep breath of the fragrant smoke he glances out the window to see the sun still low, rising slowly against the horizon. He exhales.

“I didn’t mean the crack of dawn, Darick. This could have waited at least another…” Dirk’s words are cut short as he tries to stifle a loud yawn.

Ignoring Dirk, Darick proceeds through the room to the small table in the corner. He pushes aside the cluttered papers forming them into a rough stack and sets his helmet in the newly opened space. Lifting the clumsy wood chair a short distance away from the table, Darick sits. The chair creaks under his weight but remains firm as he sifts through the papers. Finding that several pages are only partially complete, Darick reaches for the matted quill, dips it in the inkpot – still open from the night prior – and begins to write.

As Darick continues his writings, Dirk falls heavily back onto the small bed. He heaves himself into a half-sitting, half-lying position. His pipeweed enveloping him in a small cloud of putrid smoke, Dirk mutters to himself in a feeble effort to stay awake.

“At least Zenia has the good sense to sleep in.”

Moments later the door swings open. It creaks on its hinges and hits the wall with a loud bang. A lightly tanned woman with dark scars peering out from behind flexible leather garb struts into the room. Closing the door she runs a firm hand through her dark hair. Wiping the other hand on her thigh, she crosses the room to sit on the wide window sill.

“Sorry I’m late. I had some…business…to attend to at the docks. Would you believe that someone tried to mug me? I mean, really. Me? You’d think they’d’ve learned by now.”

With a groan Dirk lifts himself off the bed once more and moves to sit next to Darick at the table.

“Well Darick, now that we’re all here, care to fill us in on what we’ve missed? You’ve spent more time down there than either of us.” Dirk says alternating between speech and puffs of pipeweed.

Zenia nods in agreeance. Picking at the dried blood on her knuckles, she listens intently to Darick explain what he knows about the Undercellar. Once he is done speaking, the triad spends the next several hours discussing Dirk’s notes, the Undercellar expedition, and of course, the contract.

As morning fades into afternoon, the conversation begins to draw to a natural close. With Darick and Zenia preparing their leave, Dirk instead prepares another bowl of pipeweed. Darick makes a few final notes on the sprawled papers before stacking them neatly. He places the crudely drawn map on the top of the stack and tucks his helmet back under his left arm.

“This meeting has been good. It’s probably best to ensure that we remain on the same page, so to speak. We should do it again sometime. Perhaps when we know a bit more.” Darick states.

“Indeed,” Zenia nods.

“Well then, with that I’d best be off. Dixilund waits for no man.”

“Yes, yes. Horses are like that sometimes. Thank you for this Darick.” Says Dirk through the pipe in his mouth as he motions to the stack of papers. “Another time, of course. And certainly another meeting.”

Darick nods to Dirk gruffly and leaves the room, his metallic footsteps echo through the hall, fading slowly at first before disappearing entirely. Zenia glances at the map once more as he exits.

“I really should be going as well. Perhaps I’ll swing by the docks again. See if I can find any more lads looking for trouble.” She laughs lightly, pulling a bright apple from her satchel and placing it atop the papers. “I’d recommend that you eat that.” Zenia adds heading for the door. She turns as she reaches the frame and looks Dirk up and down. “You’re looking a little...well...like one of them I suppose. Rest up.” She turns once more and quickly strides into the hall closing the door behind her.

Lying back onto the bed, Dirk finishes his pipe and slips into unconsciousness. His dreams are filled with visions of undead, zombies and vampires, his wife, then darkness. Pure darkness.

Several hours later, Dirk bolts upright in bed finding himself suddenly awake, the sun having long been set. Weary, he focuses his attention back to the stack of papers. He slowly searches for his lantern, lighting it as he shuffles his way over to the small table. Dirk takes a seat in the lone chair, and in the dull glow of the fire he carefully looks over the notes once more. Biting into the crisp apple left by Zenia, his eyes note the additions that she made. He glances quickly over the word Loviatar carefully penned into the prayer chamber on the map before staring for a short while at the fine, almost imperceivable details that Zenia added to the sketch of the symbol found there. Quickly, Dirk’s attention shifts once more and his eyes focus on a uniform section of text added by Darick. He reads the words quietly:

The door we did not take last time, the room to the right of main passage, contains a maze. A Labyrinth of sorts. This maze seems to remain unlocked, but is far from unguarded. Axe wielding Minotaurs are abundant amongst the the pale white walls. Though we were able to overcome these beasts, they were worthy adversaries and should not be taken lightly. One such beast carried with it a small key around its neck. We do not know the key’s purpose, but have entrusted its care to the worthy hands of Madeleine.

The walls in this maze are adorned with a distinctive circular pattern, and at the heart of the Labyrinth sits a portal. Travelling through the portal, we were led into a set of ruins deep within the Cloakwood forest. The runes appear to be some sort of altar, not unlike some of those which we have encountered in the undercellar. The blood present at this altar suggests that it may remain active despite the state of the building. I have my suspicions that it could be related to the reports of vampires in and around Baldur’s Gate proper, but I can not be certain. While we now know that these ruins are connected to those in the Undercellar, the extent to which they are associated is still unknown.

Repeating the words over and over to himself, Dirk finds his mind once again reaching for sleep. He stacks the papers once more, extinguishes the lantern, and returns to his small inn bed to chase the remainder of the night’s rest.