Session 11: The Eaglesnout Farewell
A letter, a gift, and an empty seat at the table. As the party prepares to pursue the Slanted Circle into the wild lands of Xen'Drik, they must first say goodbye to a friend.
The Weight of an Empty Chair
We returned to Verdant Hollow expecting strategy. Instead, we found sorrow.
Rook stood waiting for us, but his usual calculating composure had given way to something softer—sadder. Before we could ask about our next move against the Slanted Circle, he raised a hand.
"There is something you must know first."
He explained that Kei would not be joining us. Could not join us. Word had come from his homeland—the Eaglesnout farm had fallen into disrepair, victim to the same instabilities rippling across the leylines. His family's legacy, generations of work, threatened to be lost.
Rook handed Rudiger a small package wrapped in waxed cloth. Inside lay a letter and four pieces of tartan, each bearing the distinctive pattern of the Eaglesnout clan.
The Letter
Rudiger unfolded the parchment, and the room fell silent as he read aloud:
"My friends, it has been one of life's great joys to come to know and fight alongside you all.
I have received word that my farm back home was destroyed. Rook and the Enclave have graciously endowed me with a grant to not only repair my farm but to also follow my dream of creating the Eaglesnout Academy—a place to train future guardians of these realms.
I hold hope that our paths will cross again. Until then, wield your strength in my absence."
The letter was signed with Kei's distinctive mark—a simple axe crossed with wheat.
The Tartan's Gift
Each piece of cloth bore the same pattern: deep forest green crossed with threads of gold and crimson. The colors of earth, of harvest, of blood shed in defense of home. When Accoa lifted hers, she felt something pulse within the weave—a warmth that settled into her muscles, a whisper of strength that wasn't there before.
When equipped, the tartan raises each wearer's Strength by +1.
It wasn't just cloth. Kei had left us a piece of himself—the strength he'd built through years of labor, competition, and battle. We each tied the tartan to our arms, our packs, our weapons. A reminder that carried his presence with us.
Rook watched us in silence before speaking again.
"The Enclave will keep a watchful eye on Kei and ensure that the balance of nature looks over him. I know our friend's departure comes at a time where his skill and good nature are most needed. We must continue the fight for him—as well as for all in the realms."
He paused, letting the weight of that settle.
"How did the meeting with House Cannith go? I sensed something was off, perhaps?"
The Mission
We told him everything. The attack on Suite 47. The stolen regulator plans. The Circle's cryptic words about the Ley Maw being not a threat, but a door.
Rook's expression darkened.
"Then it's worse than we feared. The Enclave has received intelligence of ley disturbances in Xen'Drik. There is a massive nexus of ley energy throughout those lands—untamed, wild, prone to clan wars. The Circle must be attempting to activate their stolen regulator there, at the source."
He produced a set of travel papers stamped with the Enclave's seal.
"I've arranged transport leaving from Dava Gate, Terminus 3, at four this afternoon. You will meet a familiar face on board when you arrive."
His voice grew grave.
"Remember: you are stewards of the natural balance. Entrust in it, and it will protect you. You must stop the Circle from activating the regulator in Xen'Drik. They do not know the power they are trying to put a leash on."
Dava Gate Terminal
The lightning rail deposited us at Dava Gate with hours to spare—or so we thought. The terminal buzzed with travelers, merchants, and the particular chaos of Sharn's transportation hub. But Terminus 3 was different.
A massive airship hung at dock, her hull painted storm-grey with copper trim that caught the afternoon sun. The name Stormlight was etched across her bow in flowing script. And standing at the gangplank, arms crossed, grinning like a man who'd pulled off the longest con in Khorvaire, was Captain Tallow.
"Now there's a sorry sight for sore eyes," he called down. "I heard you lot have been giving Sharn hell."
Skid nearly fell over the railing trying to reach him first.
"We have quite the trip ahead of us," Tallow said, gesturing us aboard. "Please, come aboard the Stormlight."
The Stormlight
The airship was a marvel of Khorvairian engineering and elemental binding. Her deck hung suspended beneath a great oblong balloon, harnesses and ropes crisscrossing the rigging. Giant wind turbines spun lazily at each side, and cannons—real cannons—rested at the rails. A crossbow the size of Mal's entire body dominated the bow.
At the stern, a massive rudder jutted into open air. And at the front, we saw it: an air elemental, bound to the ship by arcane chains of silver and sapphire, its form swirling endlessly within a crystalline containment sphere.
"She's powered by the wind itself," Tallow explained, noting our stares. "Or rather, by something that is the wind. The binding is humane—as humane as such things can be. The elemental gets a century of service, then freedom with accumulated interest. Standard Lyrandar contract."
He wasn't Lyrandar himself, but he'd clearly studied under them.
"The trip won't be without dangers," he continued as the crew prepared for departure. "And Xen'Drik itself is an incredibly dangerous locale. Primitive clans, ancient magic, and ruins that have stood since before humans walked these lands. Stay sharp."
The Stormlight lifted into the evening sky, leaving Sharn's towers behind.
Ambush in the Clouds
We'd been sailing for half a day when the first cannon blast hit.
The explosion jolted the Stormlight sideways, throwing everyone to the deck. Accoa nearly went over the rail before Stol caught her arm. Through the smoke, another airship emerged—smaller, faster, painted with sigils we recognized all too well.
The tilted eye of the Slanted Circle.
"Battle stations!" Tallow roared, already sprinting for the helm.
Encounter: The Sky Battle
Environment: High altitude above open sea. Storm clouds building below. Violent crosswinds. Lightning flashing in the distance.
The air itself seemed to fight against us. Turbulent downdrafts slammed crew members to the deck boards, and Accoa was particularly affected by the strong winds, nearly blown clean off the ship twice in the opening moments.
The enemy ship closed fast, cannons already reloading. We had choices to make—and make them quickly.
Ship Actions (One Per Round):
- Evasive Maneuvers: +2 AC until next round
- Full Throttle: Close or widen distance
- Broadside Positioning: Advantage on ship weapons
- Boarding Alignment: Allow boarding attempt
- Emergency Repairs: Restore 10 hull HP
Tallow handled piloting while we focused on combat.
Rudiger's magic proved devastating—eldritch blasts arcing across the gap between ships, punching holes in the enemy hull and sending Circle agents tumbling. Skid and Mal laid down suppressive fire with crossbows while Accoa and Stol did something impossibly brave.
They boarded the enemy ship.
The boarding planks swung wide in the crosswind, nearly throwing both of them into the clouds below. But they made it, blades drawn, and brought the fight directly to the Circle's deck.
The battle stretched on. We took damage—significant damage. The Stormlight's hull groaned with each hit, and at one point, flames erupted near the elemental's binding sphere. Tallow's crew rushed to extinguish it while we kept fighting.
But in the end, we were victorious.
The last Circle agent fell, and their ship—damaged but not destroyed—drifted to a halt. We'd captured it.
"Well," Tallow said, surveying the prize, "I suppose you'll be needing a second ship for future adventures."
Landfall: Xen'Drik
As land appeared ahead, the celebration died in our throats.
Xen'Drik rose from the horizon like a wall of green jungle, broken ruins, black cliffs, and distant storms that never fully dissipated. Lightning flickered far inland. Massive stone shapes loomed above the canopy—ruins too large to have been built by human hands.
Tallow had been quiet for most of the approach.
"That land doesn't forget trespassers," he said finally. "Prepare for landing at Stormreach."
Stormreach
The docks of Stormreach were chaos incarnate—a frontier port where law was suggestion and everyone had secrets. Tallow navigated the Stormlight to berth with practiced ease, then turned to us.
"I know little of this place. Trust in yourselves and follow what Rook told you. The Enclave's reach extends even here, but barely."
On the docks, we found dockworkers who—after some persuasion—admitted they'd seen the Circle's expedition.
"They came through earlier, hired guides to take them through the jungle. Headed inland within the hour, about eight folks. They had crates and some pack dogs with them."
An hour's head start. The Circle was already deep in the jungle.
Accoa partnered with Stol to track their movements, and soon we had a trail to follow.
Into the Jungle
The moment we entered the treeline, everything changed.
The jungle breathed. Not metaphorically—the vegetation around us rose and fell in slow, rhythmic cycles, as if the entire forest shared a single pulse. The leylines thrummed so loudly that Skid could feel them vibrating in his bones. This was no ordinary magical resonance.
A distant, deep vibration rolled through the ground beneath our feet.
Not an earthquake.
A heartbeat.
Skid heard Rook's voice echo in his memory: "If they reach the Maw before we stop them..."
The jungle closed around us. The air was thick, wet, alive. Vines as thick as ropes hung from broken towers—remnants of an empire that fell before Sharn's first stone was laid. Somewhere ahead, birds scattered in sudden alarm.
Then the ground gave way.
The Sinkhole
Several of us found ourselves falling—not far, but enough to hurt. The jungle had concealed a shallow sinkhole, and we'd walked right into it.
As we pulled ourselves out, we took stock of what we were chasing:
The Circle expedition:
- 6–8 operatives
- Pack animals
- Crates of unknown contents
- A hired guide
They had equipment. They had numbers. And they had a head start.
We had determination.
Ambush: The Circle's Rear Guard
The jungle ahead exploded into motion.
Ropes snapped tight. Camouflaged figures rose from the undergrowth. Arcane sigils flared green and blue as the ground beneath our feet fractured.
Encounter: 2 Ley-Charged Direwolves, 2 Slanted Circle Cultist Mages, 2 Cultist Blademancers
The direwolves were unlike any beasts we'd faced—their fur crackled with pale blue ley energy, and their eyes burned like twin sapphires. When they moved, the air around their paws shimmered briefly, as if reality itself was catching on arcane static.
The mages hung back, weaving spells while the blademancers—warriors in half-plate etched with those infuriating slanted runes—teleported across the battlefield, their arcane blades leaving trails of violet light.
Accoa took the worst of it. Multiple hits from coordinated blade-dance attacks left her bloodied and barely standing before Stol could reach her with healing magic. But Rudiger answered in kind, his spells hammering into the enemy ship's rear guard with devastating precision. Mal and Skid proved surprisingly proficient with ranged attacks, picking off mages who thought themselves safe at distance.
When the dust settled, we stood victorious—but winded.
Loot recovered:
- Crude copies of the regulator schematics
- Drow-marked trade tokens
- A partially burned map leading to a ruin
- Ley-Tinged Pelt (2)
- Arcane Crystal Shard (2)
- Tattered Spellbook
- Blackened Dagger (+1 when attuned)
- Silver Amulet of the Tilted Eye (advantage on Arcana checks)
- Assorted coins (115gp, 30sp)
- Cult Parchment with secrets
- Arcane Razor longsword
- Ley-Insulated Satchel
- Arcane Spike Grenade (2d6 force, 10-ft radius)
- Circle Cipher Disk
- Crystal Focus Rod (+1 force spell attacks)
- Potion of Quickstep
The map was particularly interesting. It showed a path through the jungle leading to an ancient ruin—and at the center, a symbol we didn't recognize. Not Circle. Older.
The Drow
We pressed onward, following the expedition's trail. The canopy went silent. No insects. No birds. Just the heartbeat of the leylines below.
Then a voice spoke from above—calm, cold, and very close.
"You chase foolishly."
Six Xen'Drik Drow stepped from the shadows, some descending from the trees on silken ropes. Five warriors, weapons drawn, and one who carried herself with the authority of a priestess or scout leader.
Their weapons were lowered... for now.
They were not allied with the Circle.
"The party you follow, and those before them, they have trespassed into forbidden ley ground," the leader said. "They are reckless. The land does not know them."
She studied us with eyes that gleamed faintly in the jungle's filtered light.
"What is your purpose here? You are unfamiliar with this land."
They were deciding whether we were a threat—or a solution.
A Choice
We stood at crossroads both literal and metaphorical. Behind us, the captured Circle agents. Ahead, the expedition racing toward something ancient and terrible. And before us, potential allies who could help us navigate this deadly land—or potential enemies who could end our journey in seconds.
The drow priestess waited for our answer.
The jungle breathed.
The heartbeat continued.
And somewhere ahead, the Slanted Circle drew closer to a power they didn't understand—the same power they wanted to control.
The same power that might tear apart everything we've fought to protect.
*We've lost a friend to the road behind us. The path ahead is darker than any we've walked. But the Emerald Enclave's blessing burns in our veins, and the tartan of Clan Eaglesnout reminds us what we're fighting for.*
Kei didn't leave us alone. He left us stronger.
Now we have to prove him right.
The adventure continues...