Hoard of the Dragon Queen

A New Beginning
or 'Reunions, and a Journey to Greenest'

It’s now 1489 DR, and Brodin Sigurd has begun the reconstruction of Thundertree, his home town. One of the first buildings being built was a small manor, in which he would reside from time to time. It was not finished, however many of the rooms was already sturdy enough to live in. In-between planning and procuring supplies, he takes some time off to meditate in one of the empty rooms – an exercise which his teacher, Talin, had instilled from the very beginning. During one such meditation, his mind drifted along the memories he has of his quest for The Lost Mine – where all of this started. He remembers the treasure map they found deep within the Wave Echo Cave and the abundance of wealth it promised. A thought struck him, and he opened his eyes. “It probably won’t be easy” he muttered to himself, but he thought about how much more things it would speed things up with the Thundertree’s restoration. Sure, Tarkus and The Order of the Gauntlet has elected to help wherever they can – but even then, there’s only so much of coin they’d be willing to offer. He needed to assemble a team, and he knew the perfect group for the job.

He penned a letter, and addressed it to his former companions: The Hunter-Killer Aseir Liadon, Cleric Flint Rockseeker, Tracker Alfric Snowtide and of course, the thieving J’zargo – whose last name had somehow fled Brodin’s memory.

The letter said thus:


Almost a year has passed since we last met, and I pray that you are in good health. I would have you know that I have begun with restoring Thundertree to it’s former glory, and I assure you that once it is complete it will be a marvellous sight, indeed. Now, I have here with me, the treasure map we found deep within the Wave Echo Cave – and I feel that our journey is not yet complete. What do you say to putting this map to good use? It speaks of treasure within the cave, which I’m sure is something we all can benefit from!

I will wait for you in the town square of Greenest, exactly one week from now. We will gather supplies and prepare for the adventure ahead.

It would be good to journey alongside you all once again.

Brodin Sigurd

He presented the letter to his Order’s scribe, and asked that 4 copies of it be sent to the last known locations of the would-be recipients. He also provided a sufficient amount of coin to ensure the courier can gather enough provisions and security for such a trip.

Then he returned to his work, eager to test his new-found skills in battle alongside his companions when the time comes. He hoped the letters would reach them.

Surely enough, they came. First to arrive in Greenest was Aseir, followed by Alfric then and Flint – the latter looking very distressed and without any adventuring gear at all. “Flint!” exclaimed Alfric. “Long time no see”. Aseir was leaning against the wall of a nearby building. He raised his eyebrows and asked “Is something the matter, Flint?”.
“H-hello, hello!”. He dodged the question. “I’d hate to rush things, but I think it’s best if we head towards the town square as soon as possible. I don’t like it here”. Alfric could smell the ale on Flint’s breath.
“We can’t leave just yet” said Alfric. “J’zargo hasn’t arrived-”.
“Who cares about the stupid Cat? I’ve been waiting here all morning, and I don’t want to waste any more time.” Aseir wasn’t interested in waiting. “When he gets here he’ll find us”. He started towards the center of town.
“I agree!” said Flint, worriedly looking around him before proceeding to follow Aseir. All Alfric could do was shrug and let them lead the way. After all, nobody even knew if J’zargo was still alive.

Greenest was a busy town – today especially, marking the end of the cold seasons and reeling in people from all over. Traders, townsfolk and even adventurers from afar lined the streets to go about their daily lives and embrace the sunlight after those cold nights in front of a fire. Flint had a difficult time avoiding people in the street, and would often bump into someone, sometimes causing their hard earned goods to fall to the floor. “I’m awfully sorry about that!” was what he’d say before scuttling off ahead. He wasn’t prepared to get into any kind of trouble today – though that didn’t stop his companions from suspecting him of odd behaviour.

Alfric was enjoying the sights and sounds when a young woman – a brunette in a lovely blue dress, approached him. “Excuse me, Sir…” she said, before she stopped in front of him and and blocked his path. “Do you have time to talk about our Lord and Saviour Bahamut?”. She let out a big smile before handing out a pamphlet to him with both hands. Alfric, looking very confused, slowly took the pamphlet from the girl and said “Ehm, uh… Who?”. Aseir and Flint weren’t pleased with this disruption.
“You don’t know?” She looked shocked. “He is the greatest and most gracious of Gods. Bahamut is the son Io and sister of Tiamat, His evil twin sister! He is stern and very disapproving of evil, but He is also compassionate and takes good care of His followers, l-like a wonderful Father!”. She beamed at Alfric and spilled even more information about Bahamut as he looked over the the notes in the pamphlet. A few of the words instantly stuck out as he said them aloud.
“Dragon God… Bahamut.”
Aseir became infuriated when he heard that. “Filthy dragon worshippers!” He snapped as he shoved the girl aside and strode ahead. Flint gave a hurried bow to the girl as an apology before moving along. “See how you like it when this dragon you glorify ends up burning your town to a cinder!” was all the girl heard from Aseir before he disappeared among the large crowd ahead.
“He… He wouldn’t do that.” was all she could muster in response. She looked at the ground – Alfric could tell she was upset. He did the best he could to comfort her. He lightly placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at his face and catch him mid-grin. “Ignore him.” said Alfric. “I’ll be sure to give him a boot when he’s not looking!”.

He left the girl, who was now back in a joyful mood, running in the direction his companions had gone. Alfric stuffed the pamphlet in his pocket as he dodged and whiffed the townsfolk around him, making a mental note to read it later. He eventually reached the center of town and was greeted by the sight of dozens more people bustling about amongst the stalls. In the middle was a large fountain, and at it’s base was some familiar faces: Aseir and a deflated-looking Flint. Brodin, in what appeared to be standard leather armor, extending his hand to greet the two. In the middle, sitting against the fountain was a larger, grey haired man in iron armor. He looked directly at Alfric and waved him over.

“Alfric, it’s good to see you!” Exclaimed Brodin. He extended his arm and clenched his fist towards Alfric, who responded in kind – their fists making a slight ‘thud’ noise after making contact. “How is Nilsa?”.
“Likewise, and she’s good. She sends her greetings. I hear you’ve become quite the holy warrior in our absence?”. Alfric felt good to see a friend again.
“Ha, Excellent! And yes, I’ve had exceptional training the past year. Which brings me to the next introduction…”. The man in the iron armor stood up and extended his hand towards everyone. “This is my friend and mentor, Tarkus of the Order of the Gauntlet”.
Tarkus let out a hefty laugh and shook the hands of Aseir, Flint and Alfric. “Hello,” he said “It really is good to meet you all. Brodin has spoken much about your adventures together.” He looked around and studied the adventurers closely, until he noticed something was missing. “I was told about three Rangers: The Hunter, The Tracker and The Thief.” Tarkus remembered Brodin’s talk of the catfolk that caused an abundant amount of trouble for the party.
“I take it J’zargo hasn’t arrived yet?” asked Brodin.
“Seems like it.” said Aseir. “Either that or he’s sneaking around town. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s watching us right now from amongst the crowd, plotting some stupid prank”. All of them looked around after giving some thought to this possibility. “Sounds like something he’d do” grumbled Flint, who became more agitated with each passing minute.
“No matter.” sighed Brodin. “He’ll show up eventually. Come, I’ve taken care of your accomodation for the night. Allow me to show you around, then we can discuss our plans over some ale!”. Everyone nodded in agreement – especially Flint.

The party made their way out of the town square. Alfric turned and looked behind him as he walked on. He felt like he was being watched.

The Legend of Days Gone Past
or 'A Finale, and Precursor to What Will Come'

With great difficulty, our heroes defeated Nezznar, The Black Spider, deep within the Wave Echo Cave – foiling his plans to use the Forge of Spells for his own wicked scheme. They returned to Phandelin with Nundro Rockseeker, and news of their victory was met with great celebration. They rejoiced to their heart’s content, and within a few days, struck a partnership with the dwarves regarding the operation of the (once called) Lost Mine. When the dealings were done, they said their farewells and headed off on their own – however, should their paths cross again, it will be met with adventure, loot and mead!

The mine is now re-open for business and the Forge of Spells is under close study by renowned scholars from The Lords’ Alliance. As for the Adventurers, things were only just beginning.

Alfric Snowtide lead a simple life, choosing to settle down with Nilsa Dendrar in Neverwinter and live out the rest of his days as peacefully as he could. His burning desire to prove himself worthy of his Elven blood has long since cooled, yet deep inside him, an ember unknowingly remains. Despite his own ignorance, Nilsa can clearly see his thirst for adventure. During the windy Autumns, she watches him gather wood from afar, seeing signs of his combat ability every time he strikes the wood with his axe. She fears for the day he picks up his swords again, yet at the same time, she can’t help but smile cheerfully – knowing he will probably save the lives of many when he does so, much like how he had saved hers back then.

Aseir Liadon, on hiatus from his duties as a mercenary, spent his time alone – making the long trek to the village he was born in. It had lay in ruins for years due to the dragon attack, and nobody has bothered to come back ever since. With him being the only soul to have set foot in the village for so long, he visited his mother’s grave and paid his respects. He meditated among the ruined houses, recalling his inability to deliver the final blow to Venomfang. His mind focused on this point, and honed it to a razor’s edge. He was resolute in his training for the remainder of the year – preparing himself for his next encounter with a dragon. When it happens, not only will he deliver the killing blow, he will do so on his own.

Brodin Sigurd – The Destroyer of Venomfang, Queller of Evil and Wench Slayer (when it suited him) spent the early part of his new adventure travelling to new lands. Despite his eagerness for battle, he found that his current role as a petty fighter left him unfulfilled – and so, he sought a way to fill the void. One night, Bahamut came to Brodin in a dream, and spoke to him in what seemed like an ancient Draconic tongue. However, Brodin understood fully what the Dragon God had said to him: “Be my Sword and Shield in this realm. Become a beacon of my Godly benevolence and I will bestow upon you my Draconic power”. When Brodin awoke from his dream, he searched for a Church of Bahamut, and when he did, he found an order of Paladins deep within. Brodin felt a strong, inexplicable affinity towards their ways and teachings, and asked their leader, Talin, to train him in their ways. The holy warrior agreed.
Many months later, he emerged a man reborn, and made his way back Thundertree – with plans to bring the town back to it’s former glory.

Despite the grandeur amount of healing potions and spells, time was not kind to Nundro Rockseeker. In a few months, he succumbed to the wounds (both mental and physical) he received from Nezznar and died in his bed. Flint could not bear it – he had lost almost all of his kin – and for what? Gold. Which no amount could ever hope to bring them back.
What was once the Rockseeker’s ultimate goal became the bane of Flint’s existence. Barthen would often find Flint drinking himself to a stupor, or gambling away his wealth. Sometimes, he would be doing both. To fuel his gambling addiction, Flint would sometimes become a stand-in enforcer for the Ruffians when they were collecting their protection money. He regretted this as it went against every ounce of his soul but the power of his addiction was too strong for him to refuse such work.

Last but not least, J’zargo Laughing Fox was in good spirits before he parted from the others. One would think it was the mine he now partly owned, but it wasn’t. “I need to find her, and I think I know where she is.” was the last they’d heard before he disappeared among the tall, scrawny trees beyond the town. Nobody, except Alfric, has received word from the mischievous catfolk since then.


It was dark.

Alistine was no stranger to dark places. As a being without Darkvision she never felt impaired when navigating caverns or old, dusty forts. No, as long as she had a torch or her trusty cantrip to illuminate even the gloomiest dungeon she was fine – she’d spent enough time with Luke out in the wilderness to learn how to find her bearing. However, when she doesn’t have a torch or the materials to cast her cantrip – that’s when she can’t face the dark. Al found comfort in knowing her surroundings, but right now, she found her inability to perceive the world with her eyes absolutely terrifying.

The blindfold didn’t help.

When she woke up, she found it tightly bound around her eyes to ensure not even a speck of light could seep through. The dull throbbing in her head was a minor annoyance to her frantic effort to make sense of what was happening around her. She felt herself bound to a cold stone table, with what felt like iron shackles keeping her arms above her head. Soon enough, her arms began to ache too, suggesting she’s been in that position for quite some time. She couldn’t move her legs either, both of which were pegged in place. Al tried to struggle loose, flailing her arms as hard as she could. The chains just clanked in response, a bit too loudly compared to the unnerving silence surrounding her.


The familiar groan came from her left side, not too far off. It’s hard not to recognize that voice, even if you walk into a room filled with hungover barbarians. She heard Grimrock curse under his breath and shuffle, his own restraints clanging in a similar fashion. She reasoned that he was in the same position as herself. “Gender equality, at last” she sighed.

“Oh sod off, ya mooks! You’re both so noisy. I swear you could raise a zombie with the ruckus you’re making!” came a squeaky voice a little farther from Grimrock. Fivel was here too.

This quickly went from bad to worse.

“Ah, it appears that our guests have finally awaken” said a woman behind her. She spoke with an amused tone, her voice sounded deep yet it had some air of elegancy. Al had a really bad feeling about the whole ordeal. She did wonder, however, what became of the others. The last thing she remembers is sitting with Grimrock and Fivel around the table. They were in pursuit of a Necromancer causing trouble near the town of Fliss, and they decided to regroup at Havel’s Rock (the town’s inn, as far as she can recall) to share what they’ve learned from the townsfolk, and of course, indulge in a few jugs of ale. Luke and Griswold were out gathering supplies while they drunk themselves to a stupor. They passed out and… now they’re here. Her body quivered, but she needed to stay calm if she wanted any chance of escaping.

“Who are you? And for what reason are you restraining us?” said Al. She realised the best she can do right now is try figure out why this is happening to her. “As a representative of the Bard’s College of Valor, I assure you that we mean no harm to you or your organisation. I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement if you let us go.” She could almost always talk herself out of a problem. She hoped this was one of those problems.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that” said the woman. Alistine could now hear her footsteps – and they were getting closer. “I can’t let you go unless I get what I need. One of you has something in your possession – an artifact that my benefactor has great interest in.” Al can feel her captor’s presence beside her, running her hand along the edge of the stone table Al was tied to.

“Artifact? Are you looking for that Sheela statue?” butted in Fivel. “By the Gods, please don’t kill us for that! I only took it because of the giant knockers it’s got, I swear! I’ll bring it back as soon as you le-”


The shout was deafening to Alistine’s ears. The woman interrogating the three of them clearly didn’t have the time for the Halfling’s assholery.

“I have no interest in statues! I need the location of a Dragon Mask that one of you is hiding. If you co-operate your lives will be spared. However, if you don’t…”. Al heard the woman fiddle with some tools. They sounded like blades.

“There might be severe consequences”. The moment their captor finished her sentence, Fivel whimpered audibly enough for everybody to hear.

“We know nothing of Dragon Masks” grumbled Grimrock in response. “I believe you’re wasting your time, whoever you are”.

“As a Truthseeker, I don’t believe I’m wasting my time”. Al was familiar with their kind. She’d heard that they are highly trained assassins, and they excel at getting information out of their victim before they are killed. They usually tend to have proficiency in torture and interrogation, which, she guessed, seems to ring true with the one before them. “Even if what you say is true – that you know nothing of the Mask, there is a connection. Someone in your group does know of it’s whereabouts, so you should speak up now before it’s too late.”

Al felt she should speak up. “You’ll get nothing out of us, Truthseeker.” The moment she felt searing pain from a blade being lodged into her thigh, she knew she made a mistake. Her cry from the pain startled Grimrock and Fivel.

“Enough!” Shouted Grimrock. “I speak for myself and my comrades when I say this. We know nothing of what you seek!”

“That is not the correct answer” replied the Truthseeker. Despite the pain she was experiencing, Al could hear Grimrock’s grunts. He sounded like he too, was in pain – most likely from whatever horrible act their captor was performing on him.

Al heard the tormentor’s blade drop to the floor, before she proceeded to speak: “You, Halfling”. Fivel muttered something under his breath, but Al couldn’t make out what it was. “You have a sister living in Neverwinter, don’t you?”

There was a pause before Fivel responded: “Leave her out of this! She has nothing to do with any of it. Please!”

“It would be a shame if anything were to happen to her. Her children too, I suppose.” Al was well aware of how Fivel holds his sister and her family in high regard. She was dirt poor at some point, through no fault of her own, yet he did whatever he could to help. In fact, during one of his alcoholic escapades, he explained why she’s the reason he trodded down the path of a thief. Selling his purloined goods may not have been the noblest of ways to support one’s family, but if you’ve got the skill for it, why not put it to good use? It was the efficent, Al thought, and the Halflings in Neverwinter very rarely get offered decent jobs. Many people take advantage of their good nature.

She’s doing rather well on her own now, having recovered from poverty thanks to her brother. The last thing Fivel wants is to bring certain doom to her family through his own actions.

“Guardian?” commanded the Truthseeker.

“What do you require, Truthseeker Liersgarde?” Another female voice came from far in front of Al, possibly twenty feet away. Possibly a guard or soldier. Liersgarde, she thought. She’s heard that name before, but where?

“Inform the Windstorm that we require a certain Halfling family to be present, so that our guests here can co-operate. They’ll likely send a group of their underlings. A copy of their names and whereabouts are on the table”.

“You fiends!” shouted Grimrock. The sound of him struggling to break free was loud enough to alarm the entire room.

“As you command” said the Guardian. Al hears the guard walk past her, probably towards the table where the parchment was, when Fivel interrupts yet again.


“Why should we wait for you, Halfling?” asked Liersgarde.

“I know where to find the mask. I couldn’t endanger my friends, you see. Now I have no choice in the matter”. Alistine was surprised to hear this.

“This is madness! Fivel, what in the name of Faerun are you on about?” blurted Grimrock. “Are you trying to say you knew what they meant the whole time?”

“Shut your mouth, Barbarian.” snapped Liersgarde. “Lest the wound on your leg be the least of your worries”.

“Continue” she said.

Fivel continued, ignoring Grimrock’s question. “The druid has it. Griswold – he’s a buddy of ours. I’ve seen it in his pack. You’ll find him North-West of here, in the town of… Bruhn”.

Al had never heard of the place, and she had traveled a fair amount before joining this party. She also noticed the pause before name. It’s clear that he was lying to the Truthseeker, but she didn’t dare to speak. He must have some kind of plan in place. He wouldn’t endanger the rest of the party, right?

Then Al remembered his profession, and she regretted staying silent.

“I’ve never heard of such a place” replied Liersgarde. “Lying to me would be regrettable. You understand that, don’t you?”. The sound of a knife being scraped against Fivel’s stone table wrung throughout the room.

“I’m not lying, I assure you! It’s more of a settlement than a town. Newly founded by some relatives of mine, that’s why it isn’t on any map. I asked Griswold to retrieve something for me. He might still be there”.

“I see. Fivel, is it? If you would be so kind as to tell me the exact location of this settlement, then we’d be able to confirm if what you say is true”. Liersgarde sounded triumphant, though Al could tell there was a hint of concern in her voice.

“Yes! Definitely! Just don’t hurt my sister or her family. Please! I – Woah! What the bloody hell was that?!”

Al couldn’t believe the sound she was hearing right now. What sounded like a large bear growling loudly filled the room, while a guard shouted “Intruders!” somewhere to the far front of Al and her companions.

“Guardians, get them! We must not let them free our only link to the Mask!” roared Liersgarde, making her way behind Alistine once again. Al could hear Grimrock laughing to himself. “It’s about time those bastards came to rescue us!” he said heartily. It made sense to Al now – Griswold would always transform into a bear when he was cornered. The sound of arrows flying and hitting their fleshy targets also confirmed that Luke was nearby. She heaved a sigh of relief. “So much for stealth” muttered Fivel, bitterly.

Screams were heard from the guards. It looks like the fight was going in the attackers favour. She swears she heard someone fall to their death, possibly through a large opening in the ground, though it was difficult to tell from all the noise. She could also hear the bear move closer, it’s weight making loud thuds as it’s paws made contact with the stone floor. It was a terrifying noise, but she had faith it was their party’s druid. “Get rid of their leader!” shouted Luke, all the way from the front. It sounded like he was engaged with two, no, three of the remaining guards. The bear roared in agreement, charging towards the stone tables where she and the other two lay.

“I should have known it was a lie” said Liersgarde, calmly. “You must be Griswold. Only a druid would choose such a weak force of nature to attack me!”. Once again, Alistine’s keen sense of hearing during battle revealed several little details about what was occuring. Liersgarde approached the bear, drawing two long blades (judging from how long they took to be unsheathed) to ready herself for battle.

“I am Liersgarde the Truthseeker, 7th Generation” she exclaimed. “My blades will drink deep the blood from your weak flesh”. Al heard her lunge toward the bear, dodging a swipe from it’s claws in the process. She countered with a quick attack from her weapons, causing the bear to roar in pain. “Too easy!” she shouted, before making another attack. There was a scuffle, before she heard Liersgarde respond in sheer teror. “No, don’t! You bastard! No!”. The fading scream implied Liersgarde fell to her death, cursing Griswold before she was silenced with a loud CRACK far below them. At the same time, it sounded like Luke had finished off the remaining guards, and made his way towards them.

Alistine finally spoke up: “Guys, get us out of here. Grimrock is hurt rather badly, he needs a healing spell urgently”. “You’re one to talk!” responded Grimrock and Fivel, in unison. Luke let out a tired laugh before saying “We should get those blindfolds off first, but it looks like you guys are inside some sort of circular hex on the ground”.

She can tell Luke and Griswold began poking around, trying to find their way around whatever it was they were trying to avoid. The moment she felt a slight tremor coming from the ground and heard Luke mutter “Shit, that’s not good” Al began to worry. Stone doors could be heard sliding open behind her, with dozens of footsteps and clanging armor rushing out. A quick incantation was muttered before she heard Griswold scream with agony – and then, there was nothing. “Guys, what’s happening?” she asked.

“We failed” said Luke.

A booming voice came out from behind Al: “Your bear-friend has been petrified. Do not attempt to resist or we will shatter him instantly. You have been lured here, and you have taken the bait. Lead us to the Dragon Mask or your companions will perish, one by one.”

The room was silent before Luke responded: “Never”.

Al heard several arrows fire. Luke’s shortswords fell to the ground, and so did he. She couldn’t tell if he was still breathing when he hit the floor.

Things were not looking good… and it was still very dark.

So dark.

It's 1489 DR.
A year has passed since the defeat of Nezznar...

Phandelver is thriving now that the Lost Mines have been reclaimed. The Forge of Spells is under close study and our heroes are enjoying the spoils of their adventure. Peace has returned to this small part of Faerûn.

Forge of Spells

However, peace never lasts.

In an audacious bid for power, the Cult of the Dragon, along with its dragon allies and the Red Wizards of Thay, seek to bring Tiamat from her prison in the Nine Hells to Faerûn. To this end, they are sweeping from town to town, laying waste to all those who oppose them and gathering a hoard of riches for their dread queen. The threat of annihilation has become so dire that groups as disparate as the Harpers and Zhentarim are banding together in the fight against the cult. Never before has the need for heroes been so desperate.

Will you unite the people of the Sword Coast against this new threat and foil the Cultist’s plans, or will you fall to the tyranny of dragons?


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