14: Scarlet Moon Hall

   

With the Red Dragon slain, the Duergar mines cleared, and a massive pile of gold and treasures secured within their Bags of Holding, the group's immediate focus shifted to the task at hand: returning the stolen livestock to Summerfeld to feed the struggling survivors of Bargewright and Womford. Gark, ever direct, stomped into the animal pens, bellowing at the sheep and cows to move. When his bellowing met with blank stares and contented chewing, he recognized the need for a more… nuanced approach.

"You what?"

After a short rest to gather their wits, Gark began tracing an intricate sigil in the dirt. It glowed briefly, imbuing him with the ability to converse with animals. He gently asked the sheep to gather and the cows to follow. Delighted to find a leader, the sheep flocked to him, while the cows huffed in reluctant displeasure before lumbering along.

Their return to Summerfeld was met with immense relief and gratitude from the farmers, overjoyed that the threat to their livestock was finally over. The news of a Dragon brought awe and exclamations of their heroism. The farmers, with their heavy oxen-pulled carts, joined the group for the few-hours' journey back to Bargewright.

Womford remained a scene of devastation, almost entirely destroyed, with only building foundations and the more resilient mills still standing. Now that the relentless rains had ceased, scattered former residents could be seen picking through the muddy wreckage, desperately hoping to salvage something from their ruined homes.

Vector 063,
Rogue Modron

The road up to Bargewright, previously a treacherous mess of mud and debris, was now remarkably solid. The little flying Modron had been busy. Bessok, a smith and a Dwarf, inspected the magically created road, noting its peculiar composition—a strange mixture akin to tar and crushed stone, buried inches deep for stability. It was unlike anything seen in Faerun, clearly a product of the Modron's home plane. They spotted the Modron on Bargewright's outskirts, its pipe-like arms telekinetically lifting massive wooden poles, directing Zhentarim agents as they erected fortifications, including nascent watchtowers, around the town.

The farmers, accustomed to their trade, proceeded to conduct their business. The group, however, returned to the Inn to collect their newly purchased magical items and to confer with Nalaskur, their primary Zhentarim contact. Growing increasingly comfortable with the adventurers, Nalaskur let slip a few tantalizing details about the Modron's origins and the source of their rapid supply of magical items. He described a place where time flowed differently, a year there equating to mere days in Faerun, explaining the rapid turnaround. Catching himself, he quickly redirected them to the Vampire leader of the local Zhentarim base, suggesting he might reveal more if given a compelling reason – perhaps after a few more days had passed.

Having slain a Dragon, the group, naturally, ensured no part of the magnificent beast went to waste. They harvested its scales, teeth, and claws, passing them to Nalaskur to be sold. Gark, however, had a special request: he wanted the Dragon's scales fashioned into a suit of armour, offering the remaining scales as payment. Nalaskur, eyeing the enormous pile, confirmed there was enough for three sets, not just one. "A few days," he promised, before departing, leaving the group to discuss their next move.

Their options were clear: strike back at the Water Cult to further earn the Zhentarim's favor, or pursue the Fire Cult—the very cult responsible for Gark's family's demise and his homelessness. The choice was obvious. Gark's retribution was sealed. Joe also had a personal stake; the Fire Cult operated under the guise of the Circle of the Scarlet Moon, a fake druid circle he had been tasked with investigating.

While the others awaited their new gear, Joe decided to scout ahead. He set off on foot towards Scarlet Moon Hall.

Map of Scarlet Moon Hall

Arriving near sunset, Joe spotted Scarlet Moon Hall from a distance, a strange heat haze and pall of smoke hanging low around it. The crumbling Hall itself stood atop a hill, centuries of disuse evident in its decay, though scaffolding suggested recent repair efforts. Around it lay the remains of a long-gone courtyard and another building. The most striking feature, however, was a colossal wicker giant burning fiercely before the hall. Several small camps dotted the hillside leading up to the structure. This was where Joe began his meticulous scouting.

Scarlet Moon Hall

Gariena,
Half-Elf Druid

The camps housed a varied, unsettling crowd: druids engaged in boisterous, heavy drinking; morbid, taciturn individuals; and a camp of cloaked figures conversing in a language Joe recognized as Bugbear. Two heavily built, hairy men, clearly looking for a fight, stood closest to the Hall. In the far corner, Joe spotted Gariena, the young druid from Red Larch, sitting alone by a small campfire, playing a fiddle to a pair of dancing Sprites that left trails of glittering fairy dust in their wake.

Confident in his stealth, Joe moved closer to the Hall, circling its perimeter. He spotted strange priests bearing the dreaded symbol of the Fire Cult, Hellhounds hidden in a recess, and armoured men with crossbows stationed on the scaffolding. A man puffing on a pipe watched the burning wicker giant for a few moments before climbing the scaffolding and entering the tower. With his keen eyes, Joe also discerned an opening high in the roof—a potential, stealthy entry point, avoiding a direct confrontation. As promised, Bessok's Sending arrived, and Joe quickly relayed his findings, informing his companions that he'd be waiting.

As Joe continued his vigil, nothing overtly dramatic happened at the Hall. The druids’ conversations turned to boredom, impatient for the delayed ritual to begin. Soon, the rest of the group arrived, landing their Hippogriffs a couple of miles away and proceeding on foot to maintain their stealth.

Joe quickly sketched a map in the dirt, detailing the camps and their occupants. Their discussion quickly converged on a plan: since they could all fly, the roof offered the best approach, a tactic that had served them well at Feathergale Spire. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they moved into position, then flew silently up to the top of the tower, peering into the room (H9).

Inside, four Giant Bats hung upside down from the roof. Gark, raising his newly acquired magical staff, asked them politely to leave. With a few squeaks, they unfurled their immense wings and flew out, brushing past the group. The room now empty, they noted a trapdoor on the far side. Rowan led, moving as quietly as possible, but just as he reached the trapdoor, the rotten floor gave way beneath the weight of the others, sending them plummeting to the room below (H8).

Elizar Dryflagon

This next room was more formal, furnished with a bedroll, bookcase, and desk. And there, staring back at Gark, was a familiar face: Elizar, the man with the pipe. The man Gark had seen from a distance, watching as the fires consumed his family, the man in charge of that horrific attack. Shocked, Elizar quickly scrambled to his feet, shouting about an attack as he rushed down a nearby staircase. Joe, a blur of motion, was first in pursuit, following him to the next floor to find two heavily armoured guards and a robed man. Elizar dove behind them for cover.

Joe pulled a bead from his pouch, throwing it into the midst of the enemy. It popped open, expanding into a massive bubble of force. Elizar and the wizardly-looking man managed to dive clear, but the two guards were trapped inside the bubble, unable to escape. Gark, a primal growl rumbling in his throat, shifted into a Sabre-Toothed Tiger, crawling across the floor to join the pursuit, still focused on his vengeful target. Meanwhile, the robed man shimmered with a strange heat haze, making him difficult to target, while Elizar puffed on his pipe, blowing out several streams of smoke that congealed into noxious little smoke mephits.

Joe wasn't giving up. He darted to the corner of the room, loosing a volley of arrows at Elizar, who was still disoriented. But then, the robed cultist unleashed a devastating fireball that engulfed the entire room. The flames washed over Elizar, his "boss," setting him ablaze and ending his life with a guttural scream. The wizard, however, seemed utterly unconcerned, laughing maniacally as the floor collapsed, sending the trapped guards plummeting through the new hole and out of sight.

An Azer

Peering through the gaping hole, Bessok spotted two more guards below (H5) and a creature identified as an Azer, an elemental being of fire, all in conversation that abruptly ceased as the floor above them exploded. Calling upon his ancestors, Bessok flew down, landing defiantly before the trio, shield raised, allowing the ghostly dwarves swirling around him to do their work.

Above, Gark and Rowan closed in on the cultist wizard, while Joe remained at the hole, firing arrows at the new targets below. The guards in the force bubble continued their descent, another hole in this room leading down into the lower, long-crumbled sections of the tower (H6). Five Magmin crawled over the rubble, melting it away, as the force bubble, containing the miserable guards, bounced chaotically.

With his end in sight, the uncaring wizard pointed at the ground before him, declaring he’d take everyone with him before another fireball detonated, reducing him to fiery dust. Gark and Rowan endured another searing wave of heat, thankfully mitigated by the fire resistance potions they had all swallowed.

A Magmin

Below, Bessok easily held his ground against the three assailants, his shield deflecting blows as his spectral companions hammered away. A volley of arrows from Joe pierced the three, and the ghostly dwarves swiftly dispatched one guard after another, the Azer having fallen earlier. Only one stubborn guard remained. Noticing the Magmin, Bessok decided to shift the fight, leaping down the hole to the area below. His ghostly dwarves swiftly attacked the weaker creatures. What he didn't expect was their explosive demise—each Magmin detonated loudly in a fiery display, scorching him for a few agonizing seconds before he managed to pat the flames out. Once the explosions settled, he saw the reason for the Magmin's activity: the upper edge of a cavern entrance, now visible thanks to the cleared rubble.

Back upstairs, the last guard fell under Gark and Rowan's combined assault. In the sudden silence, Rowan's keen ears picked up sounds of alert from outside. The brutal fight within the tower had drawn attention!

Fire Cultist Priest

Heading back to the roof, Joe decided to take a high vantage point while the others formulated a ground plan. Peering over the edge, Joe saw the priests who had been guarding the wicker giant now using its burning remains as cover. The Hellhounds had joined them, and several guards waited nearby, ready to attack anything emerging from the tower. Joe took aim at a priest, a perfect shot, but then a massive Fire Elemental materialized in the arrow’s path. The wicker giant was no mere effigy; it was a disguise for a monstrous elemental being.

The arrow burned up as it hit the elemental, but not before causing it significant damage. The creature crackled in anger, emerging from its disguise, leaving the wooden structure to slowly burn to the ground. The Hellhounds and priests shifted, unable to find the shooter as Joe quickly melted back into hiding. But they were now aware of another fight breaking out on the scaffolding.

Gark had exited the tower only to be ambushed by two guards, suffering enough damage to force him back into hiding. But it was enough for the priests. Something was out there, and it was going to burn! They unleashed twin fireballs, the explosions washing over the room where the rest of the group was hidden, as well as over the two guards and the scaffolding itself, which instantly collapsed, taking the guards down with it. The priests cackled with glee at the glorious destruction, but their laughter turned to shock as electricity arced through them.

From above, Joe had unleashed a Javelin of Lightning, perfectly aimed to strike multiple targets. The lightning arced through a priest, a guard, a hellhound, even the massive elemental. A perfect shot that culminated in the javelin striking the hellhound, causing it to whimper in pain.

Fire Elemental

For some inexplicable reason, Rowan, fearless, decided to take the fight to them. He rushed out of the tower, dropping to the ground where multiple enemies began to converge. The Fire Elemental struck him hard, setting the rogue ablaze, but Rowan, incredibly agile, ducked and weaved, dodging the worst and absorbing the rest with his fire resistance. Not wanting to leave him alone, Bessok leapt down to assist, his spirit guardians rising again to strike at the targets around him, while hellhounds breathed fire and the priests began to fall.

Suddenly, Rowan pulled out a rod and thrust it into the air, shouting for everyone to "CALM DOWN!" Whatever its magic, it worked. The hellhounds stopped fighting, even the massive elemental paused, seeming almost friendly towards the rogue. Only one guard remained active; Bessok ran over to try and pacify him too, but the Cult of Fire, psychopathic at best, merely continued its futile attacks before dropping seconds later.

With the Elemental and Hellhounds now under their control, the group turned as more priests and guards—previously disguised as druids—advanced up the hill, three Bugbears riding Wargs alongside. Fireballs flew, the Fire Elemental surged forward to attack, dwarven spirits danced, and somewhere in the chaos, a Sabretooth Tiger claimed more victims.

Scarlet Moon Hall had fallen. Gark's retribution had truly begun.