WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE.

Tents go up at the edge of the shallow yet impressive valley: nearly a square mile of massive bones mounded into a series of small hills. The bones of Ubtao’s children. A dinosaur graveyard. Bertram and the others can’t wait to explore but it’s been a long day of travel. Best take a rest first.

 

“Arnie. I saw you looking at this at the old hag’s sale…”, Bertram says, pulling out a child’s story book. He had swapped it out for a potion he had traded for when Granny Gristlegums wasn’t looking, none the wiser. “I felt it should be with you rather than her.”

 

The handyman’s eyes go wide. This book! It’s the very book that his mother read to him when he was younger, inspiring him to help others and later of grand adventure! “Bertram? This… this is the NICEST thing anyone has ever done for me!”, says Arnie, eyes tearing up. “Group hug, everyone! Group hug!”. Peach is in! Eku and D.B. too! Bertram and Artus reluctantly get sucked into the mass group hug, Col managing to dodge out of the way as Arnie takes in his ‘found family’.

 

“Mommy? I want to hug too, but how?”, says Cobbler, waving his tiny T-rex arms. His bard mother gives him a little hug in return, but Bertram comes over with a solution.

 

“Here, Cobbler.”, says the historian, putting a long stick in each of Cobbler’s hands. “Use these!”. And sure enough, the happy Dinosaur Son goes around giving stick-hugs to the Handy Hands. Starting with Arnie, of course.

 

There’s a few hours to kill until sundown. Let’s go explore! Eku staying behind with their animal and undead companions, the rest carefully work their way into the bone-filled valley led by Arnie in full-on skeleton mode. Small bones. Ones as large as a human. Ones the size of fallen trees. Some newer, many very old. How many hundreds of dinosaurs were there? And what drew them here? Carrion birds look down with disinterest, and there, almost half expected, a pack of rotted undead two-legged dinos gnaw at bones a couple hills away. Of course. Death rarely is the end in this land.

 

What is most striking is the sky. Rain clouds thin and between them - despite daylight hours and being in a tropical region - colorful bands of aurora borealis shimmer and twist above. If anything there’s a strange sense of peace to this place.

 

A series of carved etchings and artfully placed rocks draw the attention of Peach and Kurururu. “Col, what’s this?”, they ask. The desert druid learned a bit of these back in their homeland and more from Qawasha months ago. Druidic symbols.

 

“It says ‘shelter’. And that one says ‘safe’.”, says Col. The symbols continue, trailing towards the heart of the boneyard. Who placed these? Kurururu and Arnie are climbing bone piles to collect materials to craft a serrated club for the grung when a low and heavy *thump* is heard from behind. Peach’s ears perk up. More *thumps*, getting closer. She remembers this sound all too well from the day she first met Cobbler.

 

“Quick! Everyone hide!”, she shouts. A major image illusory bone pile pops into existence and all five dive inside.

 

What comes into view is a magnificent specimen of a tyrannosaurus rex. Larger than any they have seen, covered in scars from old fights, a true alpha of its species… but limping badly and bleeding profusely. Fresh rips and bites blanket its hide - rips and bites no doubt from an undead horde. Part of its cheek ripped open and revealing rotted limbs dangling from its teeth confirm it. This predator may have conquered its enemy, but won’t survive the day. It stumbles right past the illusory bones, bleeding and groaning, before finally collapsing beyond. It sighs, its chest rising and falling one last time.

 

“Wait.”, cautions Col. “Remember the stegosaurus that came back? Be careful.” (DM: 85+ session callback!)

 

The Handy Hands can’t help but approach out of curiosity. But what to do? Burn it with fire? Peach, Col, and Bertram are inclined to agree. Give a more ceremonial funeral pyre to honor such a great beast? Kurururu and Arnie feel it’s the right thing to do. After a day of rain it isn’t going to be easy, either way. Well, best get started. The gang all contribute what dry tinder they can from their packs and Arnie volunteers to place it in the mouth. Then he sees it. Something shiny. A ring.

 

If there’s one weakness the handyman has, it’s for new rings for his handy fingers! And here, a ring, just sitting there for the taking? He simply must! The others sigh. There’s no point swaying him. As Kurururu lodges his expanding 10-foot pole to lodge the jaws open, Arnie goes in. The excess zombie limbs stuck in the throat sense life nearby and start grabbing. From where the rest guard… the T-rex’s leg starts to flex. An eyelid starts to flicker. 

 

It’s happening.

 

“Get out Arnie! GET OUT!”, screams Peach.

 

The handyman deftly grabs the ring and books it out just in time, the jaws snapping shut as Kurururu leaps to safety nearby. Motioning as he runs, Arnie casts a mighty flame strike into the beast’s mouth to ignite the tinder as it lumbers to its feet. A choking and horrid roar signals full reanimation of one of Chult's fiercest predators, limbs of undead flailing within its mouth and moaning their own chorus while spitting flames add to the scene. Fight, Handy Hands! Fight for your lives!

 

What looks like a ghast falls out of a long gash on its side, making it clear that the dinosaur’s “lunch” is going to be joining the battle. Peach and Bertram run and respectively faerie fire and eldritch blast the beast… knocking loose another ghast. One rushes forward and stops Dragonbait dead in his tracks with paralytic claws, the other getting hit by Col before the druid turns into a giant constrictor snake. 

 

The grung shaman has no time to react before the great beast lurches forward, snapping him right up in its jaws. Kurururu can’t help but laugh. Joke’s on them! Firing up his brand new Belt of Teleportation purchased from Granny Gristlegums he dimension doors out to the beast’s back- wait. He looks down. His belt and loincloth are gone. Through teeth he sees them squarely on the T-rex’s back. No! Joke’s on him! The belt only teleports itself and anything hanging from it… Damn! Who could have foreseen a hag deal going sideways!

 

Another ghast. Another. Every other hit dislodges more undead from the T-rex’s gullet and spilling guts! Artus struggles to assist his saurial friend as Arnie’s fireball detonates the scene, but it’s clear that these living dead aren’t going to make life easy. Bring ‘em down! The gang turns all attacks to thin the herd before it grows any further, but a lucky paralytic claw hits snake-Col. A mighty tail swing from the huge predator nearly reverts him to human form but he keeps it together, breaking the paralyzing effect to do some grappling of his own versus the nearest ghast. Dull wet *thuds* are heard above as Kurururu’s fists pummel from inside the T-rex’s mouth, raining down more ghasts and then-

 

*WHAM*.

 

Stunning Strike! The entire undead T-rex keels to the ground, laid low by one lucky monk hit. The fight is nowhere near over, but this helps greatly! Arcs of up-ranked searing ray and a flurry ranged attacks thin the mob, and despite the chaos things are looking up. To aid Kurururu and Col, Peach and Bertram waste no time jumping right on top of the prone abomination to slash away at the surrounding mob.

 

Ghast claws dig deep on Peach and Col, paralyzing the bard and forcing the druid back to human form, but with Dragonbait finally getting into the fight and the T-rex still lying there stunned, the ghouls drop one by one. A flash of white light burns outward as the historian erupts in aasimar energy, Arnie’s flames continue to scorch left and right, and Peach recollects enough of her wits to zap a lightning bolt across the boneyard. Just a few left!

 

A wet crunch! A resounding crack! Kicking with all of his might backwards from inside the old T-rex’s mouth, Kurururu kicks his way right through the palette of its skull and right into the brain. He rips out its brain stem and triumphantly emerges in a shower of bone and gore, of course using the brain stem of the convulsing creature to batter down a remaining ghast.

 

One more flurry of attacks and it’s done. The old dinosaur moves no more. Finally, the peace that it deserved.

 

‘Safehaven’. More Druidic. The symbols end at a small empty bone mound cave vexing the Handy Hands. Just as they start to turn around, a rope drops. A second cave, hidden above the first! A figure of jet black skin and a patterned white mask yet the size of a human peers down… a giant chwinga? She motions up, and after that fight they’re keen to follow.

 

‘Chwinga’, for lack of a name given otherwise, is no chwinga. Given her mimicking appearance, eccentric behavior, purely Druidic communication, and yet an affinity for actual chwingas that emerge from the bony walls to greet the guests, one can assume that she’s perhaps lost her mind at least a touch and went “native”, so to speak. Col plays translator.

 

This is an Emerald Enclave outpost. She is of the same organization as their friend Qawasha, and monitors threats undead or otherwise. The boneyard is something of a natural holy place… perhaps if Ubtao had not left this land one could ask him its purpose, but regardless, it still clearly attracts the beasts referred to as his children at the end of their lives.

 

When asked about Omu, ‘Chwinga’s’ tone shifts. Don’t fly in. Stone monsters guard the skies. Excellent to know, Col and Peach note. Mind the serpents, she pantomimes. The snakes are not always snakes. An ominous statement. No doubt the rumors of Omu being a yuan-ti stronghold are true. And mind the gods that lived there. 

 

That last bit catches Kurururu’s ear. ‘Lived’, past tense? The Trickster Gods were said to walk the streets of Omu as living deities, the original place where they were worshiped. Is this no longer the case? He’ll have to think on this.

 

It’s been a day. After returning to their original campsite to invite Eku and the others to ‘Chwinga’s’ cave, all rest nearly as quiet as the dead around them. Except Col. Scintillating rainbow light shines through the jungle, the source always moving and always out of view. He’s had this dream before. But this time it’s closer. He waits until the light is close and moves to view it, but just before he can set his eyes on the source it explodes, prismatic shards blanketing the land. All fades to white.

​

*         *         *

 

Morning sunbeams. What a relief! With around 20 miles to go until reaching Omu, dry travel is an exciting prospect. They won’t want to fly right in, but how to do it?

 

“We could fly for a bit, then walk the remaining way.”, says a jet black grung with white spots. The rest turn and stare. GAH! Kurururu! He’s lost his color! He’s a bit pleased - no longer the red of his hierarchical society - but what about his species’ color-associated skin toxin? Anyone want to help him test this?

 

“Sure!”, speaks up Arnie. The grung’s hand touches, and where it once bestowed the gift of Grung speech, Arnie now can’t recall his own native tongue. He knows he knows it! But try as he might, he just can’t form the words for a while. As for Kurururu? His eyes go wide. His throat sack isn’t working. He can’t speak Grung! Permanently! Was the hag’s yard sale deal worth it? Hard to say, but for now, he’s strangely okay with it. 

 

Farewells said to ‘Chwinga’ and her chwingas, the Handy Hands to the sunny skies. Omu or bust! Two hours later and five miles out they land for a stealthier approach, and for a few hours more trudge through dense forest. With just a couple miles to go, a familiar hand emerges from Bertram's Living Pouch and passes a letter. The historian takes a moment to read it.

​

"It's Syndra Sylvane.", he announces. "She's gone. The Death Curse has finally claimed her."

​

The others nod. She was a good ally and helped set them on this path. The letter's elaboration on how bad the Death Curse has gotten inspires to walk faster to their destination. A couple miles ahead, the trees start to thin. 

Entirely surrounded by cliffs and sunken right into Chult itself, a once thriving capital city now lies partially in ruin and out of sight for all but the keenest of wayfinders. Homes. Markets. Shrines. A palace. Breaches of water and molten lava.

 

Omu. The Handy Hands finally found it. Ahead, the Forbidden City awaits.

​

On one side: a teched-out giant insectoid bounty hunter. On the other: four paramilitary hippo-men with "smokepowder" weaponry. And in the middle: the Handy Hands and a malevolent reptile-demon thing known as a slaad. Only Kurururu remains out of sight, hidden up a nearby tree as his allies sweat. Every exchange between the Hunter, the giff, and the slaad just brings more tension and twitchy trigger fingers.

​

Bertram's hands go up. "I have heard of this. It's a 'Chultan Standoff'!", he whispers. Col's hands go up, followed by Arnie's.

​

This isn't their fight, but what's it even all about? Peach and Arnie play the diplomats, calmly inquiring as the slaad flips back and forth from little girl form and mocks its slavers. And slavers indeed: The giff work for the slaveowner of the slaad, who was abducted by the Hunter to claim a bounty for a client, but in hot pursuit was shot down by the giff in the skies above. The whole strange scene plays out, but who's in the right? Does the gang even want anything to do with it?

​

"Look. This just seems to be a misunderstanding!", says Arnie persuasively. "Slave, slavers, bounty hunting... Helping is what the Handy Hands do. Maybe we can help you resolve this situation?"

​

"YOU'RE MINE.", shouts the Hunter, using Arnie's distraction to aim a dented flask of some sort at the slaad. What happens next happens in mere seconds. The flask fizzles. The slaad grins and vanishes. And weapons start firing in all directions.

​

It's a firefight! To flee or help? If anything is clear to Peach, these hippo-people are rude fascist jerks!

 

A lightning bolt rips from her geetar as she starts to glow with dark fey energy, commanding the giff Lieutenant to grovel. Bertram, Arnie, Peach, and the Hunter are assailed by musket shots and exploding shrapnel as they scatter to safety, Arnie diving behind the nearest tree as Kurururu leaps to land squarely on the face of one giff with a wet *plop*. The insectoid hunter charges in towards another as Col and Bertram try to pull back, the battlefield alliances starting to make sense.

 

...Until the slaad reappears. "I can't believe this is working out!", it cackles, hovering in the sky with hands glowing. A fireball erupts and scorches most, the being of pure chaos just laughing as it flies backwards.

​

Not so fast! Running into the pack Peach unleashes a destructive wave that tears apart three out of four of the giff to clear the way, the fourth running into the woods firing pistols. Kurururu sprints and leaps for the slaad... and utterly misses, flopping to the ground! Col mold earth's a triage station where Arnie heals a burnt Bertram, the historian sniping but not quite bringing down the runner.

 

Once again a modulated shout from the Hunter, but it's no good. The magic flask just fizzles again as the slaad laughs, turns invisible, and vanishes into the dusk light. And like that, the sudden shootout is over as quickly as it started. 

​

Col, Bertram, and Peach are able to discern the thing took off to the east, but who knows where. The Hunter sighs. "THIS ONE GIVES THANKS.", it says, before rapidly burrowing into the ground after its bounty. The din of jungle insects returns as the last of the strange space travelling creatures leaves, and in the sky above, a star turns and soars away.

​

"Hey guys, how does this work?", asks Peach, staring down the barrel of a giff musket. Ooh! Space-age loot! It's unfamiliar weaponry, but there's a small stash of smokepowder rounds and there's a pistol to go with the musken. Neat! Add in a sci-fi tobacco pipe for Bertram, an oversized pith helmet for Kurururu, and a monocle for Arnie, and it's not a bad haul.

​

"Kurururu! Fire!", says Peach as she launches a coconut, the blast from the grung's pistol nearly deafening all as coconut milk and shell bits rain down. These are fun! Loud. But fun! 

 

Enough of this silly day. Back to camp. Half an hour later the strange events are related to Eku, Artus, Dragonbait, and Cobbler, and their shiny new toys shown off. Manos in particular takes a fancy to Peach's musket, but ultimately the bard decides a semi-sentient undead abomination maybe shouldn't be wielding firepower.

​

Night comes, and so does the rain. If anything it's a blessing. Peach and Cobbler remain silent while dozens and dozens of shuffling and moaning figures lurch by - another remnant of Ras Nsi's undead army - but all thankfully masked by the deluge and their surroundings. The gang sleeps, none the wiser.

​

*         *         *

​

Heavy rain soaks all through once Peach's magical hut fades, but oh! To be rested! Not a rank of Exhaustion to be seen!

​

"Is it always like this?", says Kurururu with an enthusiasm never heard in his voice before, twirling a pistol.

​

"What? No.", responds Bertram. "We literally all met each other like four months ago. Life was happily DULL before that."

​

The grung is impressed with adventuring life and the others do their best to contextualize, but eventually shrug. It's early, it's still roughly 60 miles to Omu, and they've got a bunch of spell slots to burn. Best get to flying! Cobbler-quetzalcoatlus with Manos leading a pack of summoned owls, it's off into the dark grey skies. There's no relief from the sheets of hard rain, but nothing shakes Col's unwavering sense of direction (DM: He's seriously not rolled less than a 16 on a Survival check this entire campaign.) and the owl brigade soars south towards the Forbidden City.

​

One hour of birds. Another. Distant lightning and rolling thunder have Arnie and Bertram wondering if they should stop for a while, but with the slow wind speeds they press on. It's in that third hour when a peculiar sight is spotted up ahead: A circular section of sky perfectly devoid of clouds, warm sun beaming through. This clearly needs investigating. Dismounting the owls and approaching the sunny clearing through the dismal jungle, a figure is seen lounging in a chair next to a variety of knickknacks on blankets. And the posted sign?

​

'YARD SALE.'

​

Coming from the middle of nowhere, it's Granny Gristlegums' Yard Sale! Items from multiple realities! No coin needed! Free lemonade! The shriveled old woman with frizzy purple-grey hair in the lawn chair is a spry one, and Peach and Bertram instantly recognize her sort. It's a hag! Usually straight out of faerie tales, this creature is as unpredictable and esoteric as they come. But what's her deal? Why a yard sale? 

​

A hag can't just barter freely. There's RULES! Arnie quickly figures it out: what's a story worth? No coin accepted, but a story has value to the fey. Info, in this case. Turns out Granny Gristlegums is taking advantage of adventurers flocking towards Omu... but there's more. Most of these adventurers don't return. And, perhaps more ominous, Granny used to be part of a powerful coven lurking in the Forbidden City: The Sewn Sisters. If a single hag can control weather and warp her own yard sale in and out of reality, what does that say about her fellow hags? 

​

For the rest, temptation is strong. Look at these items! Magical cloaks and accessories of all sorts! So many potions! Some mythical container set called 'Tupperware'! A collection of flat round discs in paper sleeves called 'El Pees'? What sort of bard is 'Barry Manilow'? Well, not everything is quite from THIS reality, explains Granny, but it's all good Yard Sale bait!

​

Peach can't help but start trying on cloaks. Amazingly they all fit, because of course they do! The one that really catches her eye is the one, well... covered in eyes. Moving eyes. Creepy, but in a high fashion sort of way. All it'll cost is a future favor. Sure, why not? Sold! And why not a matching ring to go with it with the ability to see through things, for the low low cost of a bit of skill loss? Sold as well! (DM: Peach chooses to lose Sleight of Hand proficiency.)

​

Wandering the items, things stick out to the rest. Artus finds a small painting of a younger him with a bearded man. Arnie spots a children's storybook that he swears is the one his mother used to read to him from. And that simple dagger, it looks just like one that belonged to Bertram's brother, the one that he... No. It can't be. What's this hag's game?

​

When confronted, Granny Gristlegums just laughs flippantly. The demons of their pasts are theirs, not hers! After she proves that she can simply just blink this whole yard sale into an adjacent plane if the Handy Hands want to play rowdy, it's back to... uh, haggling. (Peach: "Well YEAH, where do you think the word comes from?!")

​

That knife, though. It gets Bertram thinking. Long has it haunted him. He loves his mother and sister, but it's the memories of the grief that he has caused them and that of his brother that tear him apart every day. To lose a memory to this hag? That's more blessing than curse. Before the historian can feel Buyer's Regret, it's done. Potions for Bertram. The memory of family for Granny. And the young man looks away from an unfamiliar dagger.

​

What about our grung shaman? Kurururu is more than willing to trade a future item for a rubbery aquatic cloak and a "moment of time" for some very slippery oil, but what demons does he have? He's been quiet about his past. After a slight clue to his allies by angrily kicking over a grung-made ritual censer, he points to a teleporting belt and speaks up.

​

"That.", says Kurururu. "That... for my color."

​

Granny smiles with her eyes. Now there's an esoteric deal a hag can't resist. And so it is. Time will prove what it means.

​

And Col? Nah. Possessions have never been his thing. Besides. Hag stuff, man. A druid's got more sense than that. Noting his friends are about done, the druid summons his flock of owls once more as the rest wave goodbye, and its off out of the cylinder of sun and back to the pouring rain of afternoon Chult.

​

Two hours later. A large one-eyed giant waves in confusion as a flying cavalry flies overhead. Peach and Col tiring from arcane concentration and all searching for a spot to shelter up for the rest of the day, a spot ahead is all too tempting of curiosity: Bones. Bones in every direction. Huge ones. Hills of them. A place where dinosaurs come to die. 

​

If there's any good place to rest, it's near the remains of Ubtao's sacred children.

​

Sleep? Yes. Please. Tired to the point of hardly being able to flap their temporary wings the Handy Hands retreat to their treetop shelter. (DM: Two ranks of exhaustion for all but one. Oy!) After a long day of travel and a wacky battle with a pair of ravenous froghemoths, a quiet night is appreciated. Only the distant sound of a hunting jungle cat breaks the patter of rain.

​

"Eku. Should anything happen to me... here.", says Bertram handing their loyal guide a sealed letter when changing night watch shifts. She nods somberly. Approaching the unknown, a Death Curse's origin, and likely Ras Nsi himself, not much is needed to be said. The secret couatl takes the historian's last will and testament with a soft smile.

​

It's been nearly three full days with the wings gifted by Asharra - they'd love to sleep in but there's no time to waste! Use what time they have left, for certain... but then what? The notion excites Col. So many spells at their disposal to speed up jungle travel, but how to go about it? On one side there's conjure animals, polymorph, and wild shape. On the other there's 5 Handy Hands, Eku, Artus, Dragonbait, Cobbler, Samryn, and Manos.

 

We'll need birds. Lots of birds. Commence the Owl Equation! 

​

The desert druid busts out unknown skills in advanced mathematics in a whirl of spell descriptions, durations, weight-bearing loads, carrying capacities, terrain logistics, and more. If a chalk board were present, it'd be an academic mess. With Peach jumping on board to help strategize she and Col forge a plan as quick as they can, and then they're off!

​

72 hours since the ritual at Kir Sabal. Not much time likely left for these new appendages. Col directs the squadron to a safe landing zone, calculations mostly on point until: *RIP*. Painlessly yet somewhat disgustingly the druid detaches from his two leathery reptile wings and falls! *RIP*! *RIP*! *RIP*! It's chaos as one by one the Handy Hands' wings tear from their bodies, shouting as they plummet towards the tree canopy below.

 

Think fast! A colorful parrot flies where Col once was. Peach polymorphs her dinosaur son into a majestic quetzalcoatlus as she engages Flying Vee mode on her geetar. Kurururu quickly shoots a rope arrow into the canopy to swing in large arcs down to the forest floor, Manos the hand grappling its way down not far behind and Bertram *bamf*ing next to them with dimension door and Samryn in tow. Arnie floats on down using Krenko's old levitating vest, looking all the part a messiah.

​

"Gah! Ow! Doh! Oof!". The grunts of pain and sounds of snapping branches get closer and closer as Artus and Dragonbait 'pachinko machine' their way down to an unceremonious crash landing. Oh. Yeah. Forgot about those two.

​

"Um. Sorry guys.", apologizes Bertram. "Caught up in the moment."

​

The wings are a sad loss, but now it's Peach and Col's time to shine. Resolve the equation! Minutes later a new and equally odd air force takes to the sky: Eight jumbo-sized versions of desert pygmy owls each bearing a rider, flying in formation led by a huge Cobbler-quetzalcoatlus airlifting a big skeletal hand... of course pointing the way forward. Onward!

​

One hour of concentrated conjure animals and polymorph. Then another. And another. The overcast day is thankfully without major threats but the gang can't help but notice telltale signs as they push southward over the 100 or so miles to Omu. A persistent slight stench of rot. Trampled underbrush. Occasional distant groans. This is undead country. Graves nearby to their 2nd landing spot hint of doomed peoples in this ominous landscape.

​

"The land takes all that we give.", translates Bertram, reading the grave markers as Kurururu and Arnie clear them of moss. A dim mote of light flickers above the graves, then: FLASH! The grung shaman and warlock historian blink and refocus their eyes. Huh. Strange. No worse for wear. 

​

"Oh. Pretty place. Is that a dinosaur? Wow! This must be the tropical resort, right? Hello, I'm Arnie!"

​

Oh no.

 

Not a single memory since leaving his home of Baldur's Gate. Arnie's been factory reset! This "new" fellow on vacation is amicable enough at least. Strap him to an owl. Let's get moving!

​

It's an hour later that the novelty starts to wear off. The handyman gets more and more unruly as he starts to realize he's maybe NOT on a tropical dream trip, the rest finally starting to tire of it. Not even Peach leading Arnie to flip himself into and out of skeleton mode is doing the trick. Is it poison? Disease? Ahh. Madness, that's it. Eku, will you do the honors? 

​

"Hold still, Mr. Lambert!", exclaims the guide as she lunges forward in couatl form to grapple a shrieking Arnie, a flurry of golden light and rainbow feathers purging the handyman's mind. And... he's back! That could have been bad. If anything Arnie has a warm fuzzy memory of a vacation that never was, and it's onward into the sky for one final round of owls and quetzalcoatlus before stopping to relax for the rest of the day.

​

It's a cute little campsite by a creek. Bertram fishes, Kurururu lounges and soaks, Col forages, and Peach... gardens? The others are about to inquire when Arnie pulls forth something he's been saving for a while: a magical little onyx dog statue.

​

"GO GO LITTLE HELPER!", calls the handyman, tossing it onto the ground, where it turns into a big black mastiff not too dissimilar from his old poor former companions Arnie's Little Helpers #1 and #2.

​

"Hello Arnie. I'm your best friend, Arnie.", says the dog. Arnie's jaw drops. His new magical dog can TALK? This is the best day ever! "How can I make your day better, Arnie?"

​

"I could use a hug!". And the big dog does exactly that, whispering sweet nothings into Arnie's ear as a nearby Peach inexplicably harvests a goose's nest of glowing eggs from the soil she was tilling (DM: she planted a magic bean!). It's too much for Artus and DB. One gets used to seeing weird shit as an adventurer, but sometimes you just need to walk away. 

​

What's for dinner? Col brings the tubers, Bertram, Artus, and DB bring the fish, and Peach brings the eggs! The first two dishes are excellent, but who will dare with the third? Why not?, thinks the grung, and down the hatch goes one raw egg. BAM! The rest wince in empathy as Kurururu explodes a bit from the inside. Yikes! Maybe it's an endurance thing, though?

​

One by one they eat the (now cooked and poached) eggs. BAM! BAM! BAM! Bertram, Col, and Eku get pained queasy looks as they each feel their insides erupt a bit. Peach and Arnie, though. The bard and handyman keep things contained in their iron guts. Hey... not so bad. In fact, they feel a bit stronger! (DM: +1 to their lowest ability scores. Nice!)

​

It's actually a distant explosion that breaks the peace rather than internal ones. What looks like a meteor streaks above the jungle canopy, something big falling out of it to crash through the branches and land in superhero fashion not far from their campsite. A huge beetle-like humanoid with massive mandibles and multiple eyes rises up, then immediately starts sniffing and inspecting its surroundings. It's looking for something. But what?

​

"Hi. Hello Mister... Bug Man?", greets Arnie, the rest putting aside fish and tubers and readying for anything.

​

The creature whips around, a bionic monocle snapping into position of one of its eyes as it intently inspects each of the Handy Hands, some arcane weaponry around its forearm charging with an ominous hum. Yet just when confrontation seems imminent, it sighs, sniffs again, then turns to rapidly burrow into the earth and away.

​

What in the world was that about? The mystery is too tempting. Leaving behind Eku, Artus, DB, and their non-humanoid companions to guard camp, the rest set out to see where that streaking meteor landed. Sure enough they easily find it... but this is no meteor. The smoking wreckage of some metallic aircraft would be fascinating on its own, but it's the creatures that found the downed ship before them that draw the eye.

 

Four large, stocky, hippopotamus-headed humanoids in military uniforms survey the scene and quickly get to interrogating the Handy Hands. Who are they? Did they see a big bug-like monster? Did they speak to it? Where did it go? Arnie quickly bows to their military authority and gives answers to all questions, and then with a quick "We're done here." spoken by the Lieutenant into his sleeve, the four hippo-men beam away in Star Trek fashion. What?

​

Left alone, the Handy Hands find the vessel sadly far beyond repair, though Bertram does manage to find a handful of wealth strewn about. Huh. Weird evening. Bug-thing and hippo-people out of sight, guess it's back to camp in the sunset light. Things are on their way back to normal. Until they hear a little girl crying.

​

"Please! Help me!", says a young girl with shackles on her ankles. "Don't let the slaver take me again!"

​

There's strange, and then there's Strange. There's no way this is a helpless girl, thinks Bertram. Eldritch Sight confirms.

​

"STEP AWAY FROM THE AGENT OF CHAOS.", booms a modulated voice as the beetle-like monster burrows up, forearm weapon trained on the little girl. Bertram has to know. With a wave of dispel magic the girl melts, and in its place stands a twisted and vicious looking creature somewhere between reptile, amphibian, and bad dream. It grins a serrated smile.

​

"Back off, Hunter!", comes the giff Lieutenant's voice. Four hippo-people beam down once again, long tube-like weapons ready. "We'll be taking this beast. Leave now or suffer the consequences!". All go quiet. This could explode at any second.

​

And that's the story of how the Handy Hands found themselves in the middle of an inter-dimensional Mexican standoff.

​

That common age-old question: What to do when you're inside a floating island, your friends are on drugs, an ally is locked in a cage, and your host turns out to be a powerful undead wizard?

​

"I... I think I'm freaking out.", says a barely lucid Peach.

​

As the only two sober, Col and Bertram know this is a highly compromised situation! Kurururu catches on quick and wills his grung body to suppress his dose of hallucinogenic toxin, three imagined duplicates of himself melting into the floor. Just now realizing that Valindra is not a living elf but a decaying one, Arnie acts with excited surprise.

​

"Ooh! I can do that too! YARR!", says the handyman, activating his magic tattoo that turns him into a skeleton... except he already had, and now flips back to normal. "I don't normally look like this. Cool disguise right?"

​

It's enough for Kurururu. Stealthily loading his dart gun he launches anti-toxin darts into Arnie and Peach's necks to bring them back to reality, but the quick movement appears as the start of battle to Valindra Shadowmantle. Her paralytic spell starts to lock up the grung's joints but he pushes through it, the lich holding her hands in a ready position.

​

"Are we doing this the hard way?", Valindra inquires.

​

Maybe they can take on a lich, briefly think the sobering Handy Hands. But they likely wouldn't all survive! Hands come off weapon hilts, Kurururu holds his up in the air, and slowly tensions release. The gang are permitted to approach Dragonbait in his cage, Col and Peach verifying he's not worse for wear. He was captured by captured by her patrols when found lurking nearby, Valindra explains, but if she is to believed she has no ill intent beyond caging a potential threat.

​

So what now? To Valindra its an 'enemy of my enemy...' situation, but Bertram and the others aren't too keen on allying with a lich who leads notorious Thay wizards, even if it would be more of a mutual ceasefire than an alliance. Hmm. They need to consider this. The undead elf waves dismissively as Peach casts warding wind to create a little private chat chamber.

 

The crew hashes it out. So Valindra wants the assumed nexus of the Death Curse - the Soulmonger - for study rather than destroyed. Ooh! Peach and Arnie were imagining themselves in a band called 'Soulmonger' when they were high. Maybe they agree to deliver "Soulmonger", but it's actually a band performance and not the actual thing? Yeah!

​

Peach pitches it. Valindra doesn't buy. There's a veiled threat of future violence, but the lich agrees to let the Handy Hands go with Dragonbait as long as they connect with her Red Wizards of Thay in Omu once they arrive. "You're more useful alive than dead", as she puts it. No one is happy about it, but at least they get to leave the Heart of Ubtao in peace. In good faith the Heart's teleportation circle is shown to Peach for easy return, Valindra expresses her respect that they apparently have somehow charmed a skeletal dragon hand to accompany them, and then its out into the evening's marshland air.

​

Phew.

​

Eku, Cobbler, Samryn, and 'Manos' the hand (as dubbed by Peach) await up top, Arnie wasting no time on using an old saved scroll of tongues on Dragonbait to get his side of the story. The saurial's combination of high pitched whistles and unique odors meld in their minds to become as clear as Common. It's a wild sensation! Jumping on mounts to fly away from Valindra's ears, the story comes out.

​

Three days after leaving Jahaka Anchorage aboard The Star Goddess, the airship was assaulted by a huge red dragon and crash-landed in the southern jungles. Sticking around to help for a while, Artus and Dragonbait eventually started their way northeast towards Mezro. A tenday later while crossing Aldani Basin the saurial was caught off guard by a Red Wizard patrol while scouting, hence him in a cage and Artus hidden in the swamps. He still should be, somewhere!

​

Sunset upon them, it thankfully only takes a short time to find Artus very close to where D.B. last saw him ("Standard lost procedure!"), covered in the mud and sticks of a handmade gilly suit. What a day! Good place to rest as any.

​

All reconnect, Kurururu is introduced, stories are shared. It's nice to have some company in the wilds for a change. When the Handy Hands' revelations about the Death Curse and Soulmonger are brought up, Artus and D.B. turn aside and quietly talk. Minutes later, it's decided: Though their own mission is a grand one, its not as pressing as an escalating Death Curse. They will join the Handy Hands on their quest to Omu!

​

Finally, some rest. Just a big old catfish seen by Col on night watch, though he does keep an eye out for what Artus Cimber mentioned. Eyestalks. Two stalks with one eye = Good. One stalk with three eyes = Bad. Something about cursed Chultans turned into lobster people, and massive mutant carnivorous amphibians. Thankfully it's a calm night.

​

*         *         *

​

Boulder, Parchment, Shears... dang! D.B. hoots and jovially walks to Cobbler as Artus sulks. It's riding on Manos for him! If the aarakocra ritual by Asharra was correct this is probably their last day of having wings. Best get moving! 

​

Insect-laden swamps left below, they take to the skies with their new companions. It's a great day to push this power of flight as long as they can! After a lunch on a swampy island a patrol of pterafolk briefly consider a raid, but think twice once they see the formidable Handy Air Force. Come late afternoon wings start to tire but they force forward best they can. The drain is considerable, but Samryn and Cobbler help as they can to carry stragglers and push on. It's over 50 miles covered by early evening when they can take no more, tiredly scouting for one last treetop roost at the edge of Aldani Basin to safely crash for the night. Col and Bertram are partway into their sleeping bags and Peach just about to erect her tiny hut when a manic splashing is heard in the shallow waters below.

​

Two eyestalks times two. A pair of weird lobster-human hybrids panickily flee and unseen something... which erupts out of deeper swamp nearby. One eyestalk with three eyes on a massive tentacled frog-like body... a froghemoth! Its tongue lashes out and grabs the trailing lobster-person to swallow it whole. Not one to leave struggling humanoids (?) to a grisly death Col leaps to action, dropping his sleeping bag and firing his Wand of Magic Missiles - the fight is on!

​

Tired but willing, Peach flies halfway down and zaps a lightning bolt that the huge monster resists, yet has the interesting side effect of making it vomit up the swallowed "aldani". Kurururu glides down as close as he can, the wingless Artus and Dragonbait try to rapidly climb down the tree, and Arnie flings a fireball before strategizing how to get down there fast.

​

"Time to help! We got this, guys!", the handyman shouts as he folds his wings in and divebombs for the ground, plummeting towards the marsh's edge...

​

... And totally does not deploy his wings again in time. It's a collective cringe as Arnie faceplants from 80 feet up.

​

Bertram yawns, eyes closed. "What is all the commotion? I'm trying to sleep."

​

"Frog monster.", says Col.

​

"Ya okay. Frog monster...". Bertram rolls over and opens his eyes. "GAH! FROG MONSTER!"

​

Kurururu's arrows find their mark as Col rallies the swamp's insects into an insect plague around the froghemoth, Peach's shot missing but her bardic inspiration fueling Kurururu as he runs in to beat down the monstrosity. The other aldani doesn't make it far before tongue and tentacles lash out again, gulping down the lobster-man and grappling the grung shaman. Yawning again, the historian stays in bed yet points at the ground where a swirling mass of Shadowfell energy coalesces into a summoned shadowspawn - a two-headed living nightmare of terror that somewhat resembles Bertram. It screams.

​

It's too much for Kurururu. Swinging in the tentacle of a creature he only knows from stories of the Trickster Gods, he cowers in fear of the sudden horror show. A clutch polymorph from Peach nearly saves the day as the froghemoth turns into a tiny normal frog and the swallowed aldani pops out nearby... but Col's insects can't call off in time! Regular frog turns back into monstrous frog-thing... and wastes no time in devouring Kurururu whole.

​

But it isn't over yet! The two aldani flee as the grung shaman kicks and punches from the inside, Col magic missiles, Bertram eldritch blasts, the living nightmare pummels, and a badly limping Arnie guiding bolts while Artus and Dragonbait do their best to close distance. A huge blast of destructive wave from Peach forces the monster to vomit up Kurururu... but why is the water surging over there?

​

Another froghemoth erupts to the surface, eager to join the noisy feeding frenzy! Tentacles and tongues of both creatures flail for dominance trying to grab anything and everything from each other, Kurururu being grabbed again as one aldani is utterly devoured. Luckily the last group salvo did some serious damage to the first monstrosity, and after sniping blasts from Col and Bertram in their treetop safety it falls, all attention turning to the new arrival.

​

More spell blasts! Peach and the nightmare hack at it! Artus' arrows fly and Dragonbait finally arrives! Once again Kurururu finds himself swallowed by an amphibian of no relation, but this time he kicks it's stomach into indigestion and rockets away as grung-shaped projectile vomit. All the remaining froghemoth can do is madly flail to grapple Peach and Dragonbait as the hits keep coming, and with one final destructive wave, the monstrous thing is limply blown back into the swamp.

​

There's not really much words. Everyone is beyond tired (DM: Most have had 2 ranks of exhaustion this whole fight!). Arnie limps up to drop a heal or two, then it's slowly back to the tree for all. All is quiet.

 

Except for that nightmare thing constantly shrieking below the tree for the next hour. Bertram rolls over and snores.

​

Wings! Wonderful wings! After Eku plays a somewhat bad joke on Peach by falling past her before *bamf*-ing into her true form, the couatl acts as flight instructor as the Handy Hands all try to get the hang of their extra limbs and soaring ability. Some show off, diving and catching updrafts. Others get vindictive, Kurururu making it a point to either punch or poop on every other bird that comes near. Eventually it's off into the westward morning sky, new masters of a new terrain.

​

Oh, the sights! The gang leaves Kir Sabal in the distance and works their way west to the distant goal of the Heart of Ubtao marveling at their newfound views. The majesty of Chult spreads before them like a primordial rolling carpet of green broken only by the occasional broad clearing, shining river, or jutting peak. Whatever is down below is unexplored perhaps, but is no threat. It a land full of life and death, but up here, all avian life bows to the Hands.

​

Except that one bird. The one the size of a city block.

​

A terrifyingly massive jungle roc takes to the sky and catches up with ease, the Handy Hands panicking as it dives with talons out to snatch an easy meal. Kurururu, Arnie, Samryn, the weird dragon hand, and Cobbler dive for the nearby tree canopy for shelter, but for the butterfly-winged T-rex it's too late! A fierce lightning bolt blast from a protective mother doesn't deter the 100-foot wingspan roc as it snatches up Peach's dinosaur 'son' much like a hawk would nab a rat, Cobbler falling limp from his wounds (DM: yet a Nat 20 death save!). Bertram and Col blast to distract the gargantuan bird as Kurururu dives for its face and Arnie flaps over to heal Cobbler, all still a dire situation for the young T-rex until -

​

*FOOMP*. The roc rapidly shrinks into... a little tabby kitty? Polymorph wins! But doesn't it break on damage?

​

"Augh!", exclaims Bertram as he rockets by in a divebomb. "SAVE THE KITTY!"

​

The warlock historian catches the cat plummeting hundreds of feet to the forest floor aaaaaannnndddd... safe! We think? Peach has an hour on this spell. How to safely store one friggin' huge bird in temporary feline form to buy some getaway time? Arnie to the rescue! The handyman rips off one of the few remaining patches on his Labcoat of Many Things to jam the angry hissing roc-cat into it, then find a log to jam the bag into. Blocked with a stone, it's back into the skies.

​

An hour later, spell ending and bag/log imagined shredded by a massive bird: "Well. The cat's out of the bag.", drolls Peach. No one responds. Obvious joke is obvious.

​

Flight westward continues throughout the late afternoon, Kurururu still dead set that rocs are weird abominations and Peach still wondering what would have happened with Immovable Rod vs. roc, but calm skies otherwise. Wings wearing out come evening the question comes: Do they push themselves, or not? With only 3 days of flight bestowed by Asharra there's no time to waste! One forced flight. A second. By the third Kurururu is parched and wheezing, nothing left to give. Best rest for the night. 45 miles in a single day isn't bad at all!

​

As Peach raises her hut, Col and Arnie work together to dig and fill a bath for the poor exhausted grung, Kurururu sinking into it without a word to pass out for the night. Poor little fella. Eku pats him on the head with a quick restoration and the rest settle in for the night. It's quiet. Mostly. There's no mistaking this is undead country. Better keep moving come dawn.

​

Rested and energetic, it's back into the humid skies at sunrise! The skeletal hand follows on its finger membranes as the rest glide on their wings of all varieties throughout the morning. Another treetop canopy lunch break and it's onward, west and further west. A short rainstorm is refreshing, if anything. By mid afternoon the terrain starts to transition. The endless sea of green trees slowly segue into a huge marshy highland basin, and there, floating far in the distance like a strange pebble, a small flying island.

​

Aldani Basin. And near its edge, the fabled Heart of Ubtao.

​

"A journey to find your inner self...", says Kurururu, as he hands out vials of the hallucinogenic tincture he brewed with Col to Peach and Arnie. "Drink it. But never take it by the eye."

​

Can't stop now! One push. Another. Another. Four hours later and thankfully only one rank of Exhaustion for a few Handy Hands, they find themselves hovering a few hundred feet from an awesome sight. A massive chunk of earth lazily rotates above the swamps below, a single huge petrified tree at its center with roots and branches extending out to give the island a distinctly heart-like appearance. Rains coalescing along petrified roots results in red-hued iron-rich droplets that only strengthen the heart analogy.

 

No wonder this is a sacred site to Chultans.

​

Yet Col knows exactly what this is. His homeland of the Anauroch Desert has many of these. Earthmotes, as they are called, are chunks of flying earth caused by rampant wild magic energies of times past. Petrified wood is no stranger to a desert dweller as well. Still, it doesn't stop the others from getting reverent. On Kurururu's command, Arnie and Peach both toss back their vials of the hallucinogenic tincture. Time to get spiritual!

​

It isn't quite the soulful approach that the gang was expecting, though. A curly haired elf sage emerges from a natural cave speaking Sylvan... huh. Seems friendly, but what's a foreign scholar doing here? As the Handy Hands land on top of the Heart of Ubtao the scene becomes too weird for Kurururu. The tincture comes out. And he pours it.

​

Directly into his eye.

​

"I'll stay up here Mommy, with Eku!", says Cobbler as he gestates with huge muscular arms. Samryn agrees in Common with a slight Jersey accent.

 

Peach stares, then mutters. "I think this shit is kicking in..."

​

"I never understood why you thought a Dinosaur Son was a good thing.", says Kurururu. Agreeing with a 2nd Kurururu.

​

"I know, right?", says Peach with dilated eyes. "Gifting sentience to a T-rex, why did I ever think this was a good idea?"

​

It's no better for Arnie. In introductions to Valindra the elf scholar Krenko shouts. And again! She's impressed by our wings. Those are real, right? But dead Krenko keeps shouting! Well. Better follow Valindra inside. Another Kurururu just appeared to motion them in, anyway.

​

Maybe it was a meditative chamber at one point, but Valindra has clearly made herself at home. Lab tables, books, research journals... she's studying something, but what?

​

"Ah. The Death Curse.", she plainly states when Bertram asks. "Or more appropriately, the Soulmonger."

​

Oh really! The historian and the druid are all ears. As Peach, Arnie, and Kurururu fall increasingly out of touch with reality, Valindra and the non-drugged chat. The elf breaks down the reasoning for the Soulmonger. It must be a WHAT, not a WHO. It must be a contraption of some sort. But it'd take a WHO to do so and tend it. Do they know of Omu?

​

It's too good to be true. Omu? Valindra knows of Omu and the Death Curse and Soulmonger? Bertram in particular is full of academic excitement as the brainy talk continues, but his friends are in a bit of a... different frame of mind. Arnie joins a squad of miniature skeleton pirates and marches in a circle as their leader. Kurururu confers with Kurururu and Kurururu and Kurururu about their present state, all 4 grung getting overly serious with one another. Peach just smiles as hairy arms spoon her from behind, her own private 'Bugbear Manilow'.

​

It's a scene. At least Valindra doesn't seem put off.

​

But why is that? They have wings, they outnumber her, they're incredibly strange even before considering half of them are on some serious drugs, yet Valindra is deadpan and nonchalant about everything. When a passing scouting party of broom riders makes a quick stop outside and the elf speaks to them, Bertram goes more pale than normal. Red robes. Shaved heads. Tattoos everywhere. Red Wizards of Thay! (DM: The magical Nazis of this world setting!) A strange scent catches his nostrils as he uses Eldritch Sight to scan the room. Necromantic tools. No sleeping space at all... and is that their old buddy Dragonbait's sword half-buried under equipment on the table? Worse yet: Valindra alights entirely with the radiant glow of illusory magic. The dread approaches quick.

​

The elven sage returns, but as soon as she turns her back the historian wastes no opportunity to cast dispel magic. The magical disguise fades. Like dust the magic washes away in a slight breeze, and under it the terrifying sight of an undead wizard of extraordinary power.

​

A lich.

​

With a wave of Valindra's hand the cloth covering a small cage flies away, revealing a captured Dragonbait nonchalantly waving to the Handy Hands.

​

Half the party on drugs. In a sacred sight now the domain of a lich. An ally caged. Valindra stares at the party.

 

Shit just got real. And half the Handy Hands aren't even in reality.

​

"Hello! It's us! The Handy Hands! We're here to pay respects!", shouts Arnie. Third time, and no one's answering!

​

Turns out the crumbling domed building at the center of Nangalore isn't occupied, but it is where they're supposed to 'pay respects' somehow. Eblis perch and stare from above as Bertram and Arnie pull on the old rusted door, but nothing gives. It's a symmetrical garden. Perhaps the other side? The pair walks off as Col inspects structural integrity... best be delicate in entry here. Kurururu takes note as he scales above, throwing a rope through one of the dome's large holes to descend inside. After a bit of fumbling Col and Eku follow, Arnie and Bertram rounding to find the far door rusted off its hinges, and all converge within.

​

It's quite the statue that dominates the interior! The 20-foot tall warrior wearing intricate armor and a helm shaped like a tyrannosaurus head looms over a cistern of greenish water. Must have been someone of note, but why is its face gouged off? It's hard to miss that an urn rests between the statue's feet, and oddly out of place a smaller statue of nearly lifelike detail reaches a hand towards the urn. It's clear enough to Kurururu. That's a cremation urn, the large statue is the person in life, this structure is in their honor, and the smaller statue is warning not to disturb the urn.

​

"Don't touch the urn.", he warns the others, before jumping into the cistern for his daily amphibious soak...

​

...And is mobbed by snakes! A hundred thrashing water snakes! The others recoil as the grung - utterly nonplussed - starts casually fighting the snake army. Is he enjoying this? Bertram shrugs. He's got text to translate. Old Chultan, all of it, the most obvious being a long message on the collapsed mezzanine eye-level with the big statue:

​

'True love, Faithful General, safe will you rest in Nangalore eternal.
None will disturb you while I live. Such is my vow of penance, and for my sins I cannot die.'

​

And more. Between the urn and the smaller statue: 'Once a thief, forever a slave!' The statue's lifelike face is carved into a look of horror, as if it looked up and saw something terrible. Well then. Don't touch the urn indeed.

​

"Hey guys. I think we're supposed to open the urn!", says Arnie.

​

"That would be... No. Arnie. Just no.", says Col.

​

"Don't touch the urn.", comes the grung voice again, over the din of snake-on-frog combat.

​

Fine, fine. But what if he touched it with a stick? No, Arnie! What if he touched it with a spell? No, Arnie! What if he touched it with the snake that Kurururu just threw out of the pit? NO! Arnie! NO! Finally the handyman decides that maybe it's better to "pay your respects" in this tomb to bow, pray... and maybe just a little light spell for pizazz. Seems respectful enough.

​

"Bertram.", softly calls Eku from behind the statue. "Look at this."

​

One more etching, right on the back of the statue. 'Forgive me.' The story of this place is starting to make sense. There was anger and hatred towards this person - probably the consort from Eku's story - but later remorse. Queen Zalkoré was exiled here, fiendishly cursed, only realizing later that her lover never betrayed her and was loyal until the end. A sad tale indeed.

​

The large pond out back is vibrant with life and inviting to a now snake-free Kurururu. Tiny statues everywhere! The entire pond's bottom is covered with hundreds of stone birds, turtles, lizards, and more, all exceedingly lifelike in appearance. And then there's the arm. A stone human arm. And another. Arnie and Kurururu wipe away sediment and see exactly what they were not wanting to: Two more eerily real-looking statues, bodies recoiling in posture and faces frozen in fear.

​

The Handy Hands collectively go pale and jump to the nearest surfaces they can above the water's surface, Col turning into a flying snake. These aren't statues! They were all alive! Every single animal and humanoid here, alive, then turned to stone!

​

"They ran afoul the queen.", a nearby eblis says to Arnie, staring with black eyes. "They did not show respect."

​

Great. Just great. Only the royal chambers of a queen who can turn things to stone lies ahead. They're petrified to be petrified! It's not too late to turn around, but the gang stands resolute. A single door facing the pond awaits. They knock.

​

"Come in... Yes, my love... We shall let them in..."

​

The royal apartment was perhaps once a warm place. Tapestries now dim and gray, stained glass and other reflective surfaces smashed, a perpetual gloom hangs. A stunning figure reclines on a divan: a veiled womanly form draped head to toes in a vibrant robe of parrot feathers. Queen Zalkoré. And next to her, a clay pot with a single beautiful black orchid.

​

"Yes, my love?", says the queen, looking over her shoulder towards empty space. "Mmm. I wish to know too. My servants tell me they have paid respect to you, my love. Tell me, travelers. What brings you to Nangalore?"

​

The Handy Hands bow, introducing themselves and stating their diplomatic mission. A calm social talk... but with a whole flock of eblis at their backs and an apparently half-mad queen with the ability to turn people to stone in front of them it's a tense scenario. Who is she speaking to? Or, who does she think she's speaking to?

​

When talk turns to their mission of establishing a truce between Kir Sabal and Nangalore, a moment of lucidity in the queen works to the Handy Hands' favor. Apparently she's aware of Mwaxanaré and Na - her living descendants - and despite her own mind seemingly half living in the past, it's easy enough to get Zalkoré to agree to their safety. If the gang helps purge Omu too, that is. Agreed in earnest, so says Arnie and the others! They're planning on an Omu visit anyway. Why not purge some evils while at it?

​

And now, about that orchid. Asharra said it'll help them get to Omu faster. What'll it take in trade?

​

Zalkoré points to Arnie. "That one. Yes, my love. I think he would be useful too..."

​

The handyman perks up. Become a favored slave to a cursed queen? In a beautiful garden? That needs extensive repairs? All the non-profit work he wants to handyman this fixer-upper into glory? What a cool job opportunity! The others soon find themselves awkwardly having to talk Arnie out of excitedly selling himself into slavery. Perhaps something else in trade?

​

Things nearly go haywire when Bertram "accidentally" pulls a mirror from his backpack while searching for items of value, Queen Zalkoré hissing and rising until Arnie quickly diffuses the situation (DM: Phew! Lucky rolls here!). Okay. Mirrors bad. Noted. Flying snake-Col descends and shifts back to human - perhaps the ornate magical ykwla that they found in Ras Nsi's old fortress? The desert druid offers, the queen confers with her imaginary lover, and the deal is struck.

​

It's a collective sigh of relief. The Handy Hands are free to leave as they came, orchid in hand. No new statues today!

​

Col and Kurururu chat on their way back through Nangalore. Psychotropic plants abound, the queen clearly tripping on something... why not harvest and make their own supplies? Why not indeed! A few pounds of hallucinogenic leaves gathered and another few by Arnie after he inspects a giant spider's den, it's back to the canoe. It's been a morning, for sure. Course is set back downriver towards Kir Sabal, and the melancholy of Nangalore and its tragic queen fades behind.

​

(Level 10 achieved! We don't normally level up mid-session, but the time was right. The path to Omu awaits!)

​

*         *         *

​

It's a calm two-day journey down familiar waters. Days are full of river sightseeing, the evenings full of alchemical crafting of hallucinogenic tincture, and the nights quiet save for the eerie music from a couple days previous returning to haunt Col on his watch. A thankfully uneventful canoe trip back to the banks near Kir Sabal. Local fishers happily agree to give the crew a lift back up to the cliffside community in their nets... but what they find isn't peace.

​

Bloodied bodies. A corpse of a stone-skinned flying creature. The sounds of battle above. Quick! To the monastery! 

​

The five rush up just in time to see Peach pulling her geetar-axe out of a twitching statue-like creature, Cobbler gnawing another in half, and a wounded Asharra downing the final assailant with her spear. What happened here?!

​

"Gargoyles. From Omu, believe it or not. Whoever controls them, we think they suspect we are hiding Omu's heirs.", says Teacher between heavy panting breaths, Arnie rushing to help heal her wounds.

​

Two monks and three townsfolk killed. Mwaxanaré and Na are verified as safe and unharmed, the former keen to see Arnie and the latter excited to talk sailing mechanics with Bertram. As promised, Asharra informs of Omu's exact location and also scouting information for many more nearby sites. It's an afternoon of disaster cleanup, Kurururu aiding in funeral rites and cremation pyres for the dead. As soon as possible, as every Chultan knows. Things have a habit of reanimating here. Black orchid handed over to a grateful Asharra, it's an evening of prep and relaxation. 

​

It's great to reunite with Peach after 4 days! Her 'revelations' though... well. A fondness for hemp bracelets, crystals, peace and love, and general New Age-yness makes the other Handy Hands wonder if she learned took the right lessons from the monks (DM: Oh god it's so annoying, but it's great). If anything she's even more keen to smoke what Arnie brought back!

​

At dawn the Handy Hands and their companions gather around, even the skeleton hand which Peach helped levitate up to the monastery. Monks chant. Asharra grinds the black orchid, and inhales. The Dance of the Seven Winds has begun.

​

For nearly an hour Teacher dances. First slow, then a whirling dervish until she collapses, her feathers falling off like leaves and her wing limbs withering into nothing. All goes quiet... then Arnie feels an itch between the shoulders. Then Col. Then everyone else. Loosening their clothing as quick as they can, the impossible happens. Grotesque yet wondrous, new body parts grow in rapid fashion on each of the Handy Hands! When the stretching and creaking noises of new flesh and bone stop, the gang looks around in awe.

​

Wings! Wings for all! Eagle-like wings sprout from Arnie, retaining his tropical shirt's patterning. Peach's majestic feathers mimic the four seasons of her people. Claw-hooked scaled wings spread behind Col, similar to the flying snakes of this land. Much as his patron in name, jet black raven wings wrap around Bertram. A series of spines and membranes radiate around Kurururu, if anything looking like his dinosaur headdress. The tiger Samryn looks about as surprised as any cat would be to find themselves resembling a griffon. The weird skeleton dragon hand stretches its fingers, now with leathery webbing between them. And there, behind, is Peach's 'child'... the T-Rex with tiny vestigial butterfly wings, now erupted into massive and magnificent monarch wings stretching across the room.

​

"Oh my baby boy! Puberty comes so fast!", exclaims the eladrin bard.

​

"Go now...", says Asharra, standing and pointing into the open sky. "Go now, and FLY!"

​

And they do. The Handy Hands dive off the cliffs of Kir Sabal and soar into the skies of Chult.

​

It's morning! It's time to earn their keep! It's time for CHORES! Not much can make Arnie happier as the handyman rushes to grab tools from the boy Na and get to work, but it's a mixed reception from the others. It's to the mesa-top farmland for Col to prune weeds and into the monastery for the rest for sweeping, mopping, and wall scrubbing, but Kurururu is less than enthused. This is the work of a blue grung laborer, not a red grung shaman! As he uses shape water to swirl water out of the bucket onto walls, Bertram and Peach scrub, and Arnie dual-wields both mop and broom, Asharra descends.

​

After gently scolding Na for pushing chores on their guests more firmly than intended, 'Teacher' talks as the Handy Hands work. Mwaxanaré and Na are the last of their line, Asharra says, born into aarakocra society after their parents fled Omu decades ago. The place actually earned its title of 'The Forbidden City' long before that when Ubtao turned his back on the city for its practice of slavery. The slaves ultimately revolted, the royal family reconstituted society under the worship of nine Trickster Gods, and Omu thrived for many years until a catastrophe forced them to flee into exile. If anything, she states, try to be understanding of how that history may shape a difficult teenage girl.

​

It has Bertram's interest, but to the rest? Ugh. Chores! When a stoic monk called 'Mentor' tries to show both Arnie and Kurururu how to work properly, they've had it. Forget this! They're joining Col! 

​

The fields atop the mesa are a peaceful place. Col diligently prunes as Arnie and Kurururu climb up to see Mwaxanaré "hard at work", filing her nails while her mage hand roots weeds and an unseen servant rakes. 'Work smart, not hard', perhaps? Arnie can appreciate it. Not so much when he sees Kurururu protecting weeds and uprooting crops though... this grung is just the worst at chores! 

​

Responsibility to the people. Helping those in need. Loyalty to family. One would think Arnie and Mwaxanaré would have almost nothing in common but there's a strange energy in shared values. Meditating, the grung just smiles as the princess checks out Arnie's physique as he works. Oh, if the handyman knew. Kurururu doesn't know what sort of match that'd be. But it'd definitely be a match.

​

Meanwhile below, Bertram chats with a clever boy. Physics! Math! Biology! Wall scrubbing devolves into paper airplane folding until he eventually leaves Prince Na to see what his friends are up to, arriving just in time to see a frustrated Mentor *tsk tsk*ing away as the Handy Hands resolutely refuse to learn his methods. But soon enough, it's time for lunch!

 

Over dried fruits and breads Asharra asks what was learned. A whole lot of nothing, according to Arnie!

 

The old aarakocra steps over to the handyman. "Show me 'sweep the floor'.", says Teacher. Arnie doesn't. Asharra's fist hits him square in the chest. "Show me 'pick the weeds'." Arnie doesn't. He's cleanly swept off his feet onto the monastery floor.

​

"Handy work is for HELPING. Not for FIGHTING. This is dumb! YOU'RE dumb! You're a bad teacher!", rants the indignant handyman as he picks himself up. "If this was a real fight I'd just burn you into a smoking corpse..."

​

Na stares between bites. Arnie smiles. Mwaxanaré does interestingly stand up for the handyman before talks turn to the Handy Hands' quest. The Death Curse the monks know of, but at the gangs' interest in Omu Asharra pauses.

​

"So you think Omu is connected, hmm?". She pauses again. "Kir Sabal faces threats, one of which are unruly eblis to the south. Solve the issue - diplomatically if able - and I'll not only tell you everything I know, but I'll help you there myself."

​

Well. That's a hard deal to turn down. Peacefully solve a problem, and greatly profit? The Handy Hands are in! After talk of a famous skull goblet that would validate Mwaxanaré's claim, the rest of the day is spent hanging out around the cliffside monastery. Bertram borrows an old math textbook from Asharra after identifying the monastery's statues as tabaxi versions of Ubtao; Col learns about healing herbs from the gardeners; Arnie and Peach volunteerfor more chores before flying down to check on the strange undead dragon hand (It's doing fine? They think?); and Kurururu shadows the monks to learn their rituals. It's odd as they seem to be ritual for repetition's sake rather than as god worship, but it's familiar nonetheless.

​

Night comes. In the morning they head south.

​

*         *         *

​

"Are you ready?", asks the aarakocra scout, Bertram strapped to his chest. "HOLD ON!"

​

And off they dive into the sky! The historian, the druid, the handyman, the grung shaman, and their secret coatl guide soar through the sky in harnesses attached to bird people, the aerial rollercoaster ride narrowly arcing up before hitting the forest floor, pulling up and artfully weaving a flight path to the southwest where the River Olung lies. Peach volunteered to stay behind (DM: she's missing a session, but that's okay!) to watch over Cobbler, Samryn, and the dragon hand for the anticipated four-day journey... hopefully she and the princess don't drive each other nuts.

​

On the banks of the lazy and unusually warm waters of the River Olung a loaner canoe awaits. It's a peaceful journey south through semi-civilized territory. Aarakocra fish and fly by. Dinosaurs graze on the banks. Eventually Kurururu finds the gang a large tree to roost in for the evening, the burbling of the nearby river being the only disturbance in the night.

​

On Day 2 Arnie can't help but notice the water is even warmer. And is that a slight rotten egg smell? Ahh, sulfur. Wherever this river's source is it seems safe to say there's volcanic activity there. It's another calm day of paddling upriver broken only by the occasional passing shower until Kurururu hears something: A stringed instrument? No one else seems to notice.

​

It's close, but where? Nothing seen, and a quick shore scout also reveals nothing. And still, no one else hears it. What's going on? Kurururu nods. The shaman knows when not to mess with spirits. It's back to the canoe and onward into evening.

​

Sundown. Muscles burning, Arnie can't stop. He knows they're close! Rowing himself to exhaustion as his friends ignite magical light sources (and make the canoe glow neon green) they angle off the main river into a black bayou stretching into the eastern jungle. The smell of bog. Lurking gators. After not too long a fantastic edifice rises out of the dark.

​

Giant stone elephants flank the entrance to a hanging garden of exotic beauty: Nangalore. The Garden of Dreams. Water pours from a huge carved tyrannosaurus head, and around it overgrown tiered gardens rise higher and higher. The five travelers pull the long canoe up to safety in the foot-deep central boulevard.

 

A beautiful place, Eku explains, but one with a tragic story. Hundreds of years ago it was built in honor of Queen Zalkoré of Omu, famed by her beauty. Originally a royal getaway, it is said that Zalkoré was betrayed by her lover - the general of Omu's army - and exiled here for striking a fiendish bargain to preserve her beauty. Four expressive stone faces and Old Chultan texts confirm the story, the silhouettes of overgrown plants a testament to time and disrepair.

​

Best time to get some rest. Who knows what lurks here at night? Most sleep in the canoe while Kurururu lounges in the waters, a night free of gators and only broken by the spotting of a curious chwinga by Col and a frustrated flying monkey attempting to make a meal of Kurururu's familiar.

​

Come daylight, indeed they see why this is the 'Garden of Dreams'. Fantastic trees shaped like massive cones. Gravity defying lily pads. Flowers that sparkle like gems. Multicolored parrots and canaries that flit between branches like flying rainbows. What a place Nangalore must have been back in its prime! 

​

To Arnie, it's nearly a vacation resort! The rest rush to keep up as the handyman recklessly explores from one tier to another. Stairs in variable condition soon route him past an abnormally large mantrap that Col stops to investigate, the rest moving into a dense sheltered garden where the scents nearly overpower their senses. A good thing they resist the urge to doze off as a few familiar tri-flower fronds are seen lurking, awaiting those that give in to sleep.

​

The central collapsing domed structure looms, but slight movement within a ruined gazebo draws them to the south where a tiny doll-like figure emerges from stone. Ahh, the chwinga Col saw during the night! Two more pop out of the rubble, wary until Bertram gifts them a fish in tribute. Well and good, but these chwingas fancy tall people! One by one they inspect the Handy Hands, eventually deciding that Arnie's fuzzy hat gives him the edge over Bertram's hatless head, gifting the handyman a magical stone. It's not a broccoli rock (DM: Way back in Session 10!), but thanks, little guy!

​

Only one walled pagoda on the highest tier seems in any sort of good repair. After Col rejoins they knock on its locked door... and something flies down. A big something. It'd resemble a crane or a stork if it wasn't easily over 8-foot tall and staring at them from the pagoda's ledge with intelligent eyes. An eblis.

​

"You weren't invited here.", it says in a smooth voice, eyes unnervingly not blinking. "You disturb the queen's home."

​

"Oh great bird, we represent others and have come to speak to your queen and pay our respects!", says Arnie.

​

The eblis stares. All have seen these creatures at a distance long ago with Eku, but Kurururu actually knows their deity. Popazotl is intelligent and shrewed, and bows to no one. Invoking the Trickster God's name the grung shaman does not bow yet prays upright, the eblis keenly watching from above as others of its kind gather. It blinks.

​

"Then pay your respects.", it says, motioning to the collapsing central structure. "Only then will our queen see you."

​

And so the Handy Hands turn to enter Nangalore's main building, a small flock of eblis watching, far from Kir Sabal in a truly strange garden of melancholy and danger.

​

It's an estimated two day journey from the dragon's remains to Kir Sabal. Best get some rest. As Peach summons her hut, Bertram reads, and Col plays with harvested ingredients, Kurururu looks at the curious shape of the necromantic Staff of Withering he claimed from Reistal. Clearly only one Handy Hand could wield such a thing.

​

"You. Death God. This should be yours.", says the grung shaman to Arnie.

​

"Well thanks, but whatever do you mean?", wonders the handyman known for deadly explosions and sucking the life out of victims as he climbs upon the mockery of life that is a 10-foot tall animated dead skeleton hand.

​

Sleep comes. After Arnie falls asleep atop the giant hand Peach takes over the midnight watch. It's quiet, but something is off. Thoughts are confirmed when Samryn slinks out of the hut to stare into the dark. The tiger stalks into the woods just as Peach rubs her Ring of Animal Influence to inquire with the big cat. "I smell my kind.", comes the response.

​

Great. A tiger ambush. She's quick to wake Bertram and Arnie, the latter staying on guard while Peach and the historian sneak under ferns in the direction Samryn went. The woods open a bit to a small grove where, on a log petting Bertram's tiger companion, is a smiling naked Chultan man sits. The pair look at each other, then back at the scene. Not quite the late night threat they were expecting. Eventually Peach steps forward and raises a hand in greeting.

​

"Hello", says the man as if he doesn't speak human words often. "He says you're the tallest dwarf he's ever been a friend of." He motions to Samryn, then Bertram. "Do you have any wine? I miss wine."

​

No, no wine, sadly. It's a curious thought Samryn returns to Peach when she inquires. "He is like me, but looks like you." The bard and historian perk up. One of the fabled weretigers of Chult, it must be! What's even more curious is that the naked man, despite his scruffy beard and hair, looks strangely similar to the Merchant Prince of magic that they know well. Indeed it turns out he's a long-lost sibling of Wakanga, but content with his lycanthropic life among the wilds.

​

Intents shared and peace found, farewells are said as the man's body morphs into the form of a large tiger and slowly walks into the dark. Hours later Peach catches a glint of feline eyes beyond her campfire. She nods. The eyes blink and recede.

​

*         *         *

​

Mounted on skeleton hand, in skeleton form, holding a hand-shaped staff, the handyman cleric is every inch a bizarre warlord as he leads the troupe in hand-themed glory. Onward! In truth it's Bertram's quality mapping and Col's unflappable wayfinding that propels them towards Kir Sabal to the southwest, but they let Arnie have his moment.

​

Mid-day foraging finds some pyramid-shaped fruits that Eku quickly points as highly poisonous, but the big spiky fruit that monkeys are seen eating up in the trees beyond? Those are great! A bit of searching finds the source, Bertram's flying axe handily chopping one down as Kurururu climbs and Arnie levitates to collect more. The giant fruit easily can feed more than one person for a day. Not a bad break from dried rations.

​

Come evening Col and Reistal bond over plants, Peach instructs Cobbler in vocabulary, and Kurururu continues his talk from the night before with Arnie. It has always been awkward between the two, Arnie feeling that Kurururu was trying to replace Krenko and Kurururu feeling Arnie is far more a harbinger of doom than a helpful handyman, but the two part knowing each other better. Both are spiritual shepherds of life and death, in their own ways. The grung's offer to help Arnie to the spirit world when he dies is balked at, but Eku curiously speaks up.

​

"Kurururu. I know how I will die. Maybe not when or where." The secret coatl smiles. "When it comes, I would be honored if you were my guide to the beyond." The grung nods before climbing a tree for the night. Sleep comes again.

​

The wet dawn and raincatchers full of fresh water not unwelcome at all, and it's a peaceful morning as the Handy Hands trek onwards. The sky clears, dinosaurs are heard fighting in the distance, and the low jungle slowly transitions into rolling hills. By late afternoon the trees thin enough to see a few isolated peaks jutting from the jungle canopy, and there - impressively built into the cliffside many hundreds of feet above - is an ancient monastery.

​

Kir Sabal.

​

A narrow twisting path leads up from here. What to do with their larger companions? Can the undead hand be trusted with Cobbler and Samryn? Peach has the Mom Talk with dino, Arnie has the Dad Talk with hand-thing, Bertram asks the tiger to supervise, then it's up the treacherous path!

​

Sheer switchbacks quickly bring the crew up above the canopy, occasional pebbles falling as they slowly work up a series of stone ledges and wooden platforms in need of repair. Col slips, catching himself on the trail below. Reistal stumbles further up and nearly falls hundreds of feet not once but twice, earning another grumble from Arnie about bringing a frail old man.

​

"I'm still only 38...", he mumbles back.

​

Up and up they go, doing their best to suppress vertigo as they near 500 feet straight up. Occasional aarakocra fly to and fro above head, a little flying contraption drifting down catching Peach's attention before she magically accelerates wind to push them across one final gap. It gets most across, but Bertram's attempt at an improv grappling hook is no good and the historian tumbles town the cliffside, thankfully landing on a ledge. Eventually they're all up however, including a surprisingly nimble Reistal, and Kir Sabal's cliffside dwellings vertically stretch before them.

​

Bird-folk nod as they pass. Seems visitors are welcome, at least. A paper plane flies out between buildings where a human boy dressed in an aarakocra costume spreads his cloak "wings" and screeches in greeting. He is Na, he says! What's an inventive little boy doing up here in the clouds among bird people? Na shows Bertram how to fold another plane before running off to play, the gang deciding to visit the largest building on the cliff to introduce themselves.

​

Chiming bells. Low throat singing. Aarakocra monks decorate a maze-like mandala with colored rocks and sand. They don't react when Arnie shouts in greeting, an old but vibrantly scarlet-feathered aarakocra responding from a stairway above.

​

"They will not break from their prayer. But greetings, travelers. I am Asharra.", says the head monk. She cocks her head towards their guide. "Eku! Welcome. It has been a couple years."

​

"Teacher." Eku nods in reverence. "It is good to see you again! These are my good friends, the Handy Hands."

​

Over refreshments much is learned from 'Teacher', or Asharra. Kir Sabal is an ancient community centered on this monastery of Ubtao, where prayers have been sung into the sky since the time Mezro was still young. Arnie samples the fermented beverage options as the others ask Teacher of rules (breaching hospitality is met with fierce judgement), of written texts (she agrees to let Bertram see her personal collection), and of lodging (free, as long as they help with chores!). Talk turns to scout sightings. Do they know anything about a dinosaur and a huge undead hand playing fetch together while a tiger watches?

​

Oh. Right. Better do something about that! After Peach descends on flying guitar to polymorph Cobbler to bring him and Samryn up, the young boy Na excitedly interrupts to talk about his latest engineering innovations. Asharra's reference to him as 'princeling' is curious, but talk soon turns to rooms for the night. Kurururu gifts dragon bone shards that he had collected a few days previous while Peach makes a sunset flight back down with Arnie to check on the hand.

​

The hand seems fine. Is it lonely? Is it even understanding the handyman? Hard to tell. It does make Arnie wonder however. Is this how Peach feels about her dinosaur son? Sure it's a monstrous skeleton thing, but MAYBE it's like a son, too. It's a quiet evening ride back up the mountain as the handyman and bard hold hands, fleetingly speaking of parenthood.

​

It's a tight and quaint space, but who's to complain of free lodging from flying monks? The gang is just putting down their gear for the evening when a young woman's voice is heard approaching.

​

"You must be the 'adventurers' that arrived. Hmm.", she looks them over disparagingly. "I was expecting more."

​

"Listen, lady", starts Peach. "I don't know who you-"

​

"Your Highness, and I am queen of this great land! Long has my family sought to led Chult to greatness."

​

Wonderful. All the snotty attitude of a teenage girl, plus a deluded superiority complex. But wait. Didn't Asharra refer to the boy as 'princeling' and also mention a sister? Kurururu bows, reasoning the family tie and a quick way out of this interaction.

 

She is Princess Mwaxanaré, older sister of Prince Na. She's also kind of a shit, apparently, but growing up isolated and entitled may just do that. She and her brother have been raised here as exiled royalty from what is known as the largest and most powerful city-state in Chult's history: Omu.

​

Bertram feels a pang in his gut. Gods! How did he not recall?! The Museum of Chultan History referred to Omu as "The Forbidden City". It was right there! The 'Forbidden City' of the Death Curse prophecy is Omu! It is said to have been intentionally removed from maps after a social uprising that earned it its nickname, then later fell due to some unknown catastrophe. And here before them is the legitimate heir to Omu's throne. Is this why Kir Sabal was in their shared vision? They'll surely have to ask around and learn more in the morning.

​

Mwaxanaré leaves in condescension, and heads lie in simple beds while a tiger and T-rex crowd in tight quarters. Come daybreak there's a knock on the door, and a young boy in a feather cloak holding an armful of tools grins.

​

"Wake up! Good morning!", Na exclaims exuberantly. "It's time for CHORES!"

​

Clues abound but the Prime Suspect in the Case of the Death Curse has clearly long since departed. Wherever Ras Nsi is, it isn't here in this sunken ruin. As the Handy Hands leave through narrow halls Bertram is caught entirely off guard when a blur of matted beard and rotting clothing phases right through the wall and cracks a hardwood staff against his head.

​

"NO!", the hermit screams. "YOU HURT PLANT! PLANT IS MY FRIEND!"

​

Necrotic energy courses through the staff as it slams into Bertram a second time and swirls of spores choke those nearby. Col and Arnie dodge out of a lung-rotting spore cloud, the latter healing Bertram as Peach attempts to stop the clearly mentally ill fellow with suggestion yet to no avail. Fine then. The hard way it is. Kurururu's fists find purchase where his new ykwla does not, perfectly setting up the historian for his retaliation. The axe Scourge manifests in Bertram's hand and surges with dark purple energy, nearly killing the hermit in one blow and blasting him to the floor (DM: Crit smites don't mess around, son), the last thing seen before unconsciousness being the axe's hilt cracking down on his forehead.

​

This must be Reistal, the journal's author (see last session). No time is wasted in dragging his limp body to tie with rope and vine to Ras Nsi's old throne. Kurururu is inspecting the survivor's curious necrotic staff when a telepathic call comes.

​

"Ah. Friends?". All hear Eku broadcast into their minds. "No cause for great alarm, but Cobbler and I are seeing... well, something odd. It's hard to explain. Best come look when you can."

​

With their assailant secure and out cold most rush up to where their guide and young T-rex are crouched below the sunken tower's parapets. Eku points at, well...  a thing. No wonder she couldn't explain it! There, lurking in the wastes around the ruins looking like a weird giant skeletal spider is a hand. A very large bone hand. And not just any hand, Kurururu points out: that's an animated skeletal DRAGON hand! Arnie gasps in excitement.

​

"It's a hand-friend! We've got to approach it! YARR!", says the handyman, activating his magic tattoo skeleton form.

​

"Arnie no!", interrupts Peach. "There's stories about undead dragons. None of them friendly!"

​

Hmm. Best keep an eye on it. For now there's an awakening captive to question.

​

The filthy man slowly awakens. Interrogating him is about as useful as asking questions of any stark raving mad lunatic, the figure alternating between ranting about his plant friend and distress at being questioned by a friendly skeleton-Arnie. When Eku steps in to help with her restorative magic things drastically improve. Rainbows of celestial energy fade, and afterwards the prisoner looks back with lucid but regretful eyes.

​

He is indeed Reistal. Everything in the journal Peach found rings true: he was the lone survivor of a fated archaeological expedition and circumstance left him alive but completely out of his mind. After repeated apologies and not without cautious eyes vigilant, Reistal is untied after he offers to show Bertram where they are on the map.

​

Though well over a hundred miles south of Mezro, they are indeed still in Chult! This region is the Nsi Wastes - a part of Chult lumbered on Ras Nsi's orders to sell to foreign nations - and this ruin is Nsi Fortress. To the east is Refuge Bay where Reistal's crew landed, and just to the northeast the cliffside aarakocra monastery called Kir Sabal. Good! This certainly gives some destination ideas. Kir Sabal was almost surely one of the locations seen in the vision the Handy Hands shared with Bertram's grandfather Sachiel, and could be a great next step. For now though, perhaps some rest for the night.

​

While Reistal shows and gifts Col a unique project of his (DM: a druidic item that lets one shapeshift into plants!), the rest observe the weird giant hand under a wasteland sunset. The strangest thing is how it moves: it's 'body language' if you will. It's hard to judge intent, but the lurking hand doesn't seem to be hunting them. If anything it's a pensive curiousness. Bertram and Kurururu can recall some Chultan dragon stories from their time in museums and libraries and none of them are good, but Arnie's obsession with hands is a hard one to shake. Fine! Maybe they'll check it out in the morning.

​

*         *         *

​

Night was quiet in the ruined fort, interrupted only by the Living Pouch arrival of Wakanga and Syndra's response to the Mezroan prophecy they had uncovered. Syndra can't help but excitedly note phrase similarities to 'Soul Monger' and 'Death Curse' - this prophecy is a great clue! 'Forbidden City' though... it's not Mezro. Perhaps this clue leads elsewhere.

​

When the rest join Peach and Cobbler up on the fort's tower they can clearly see the distant plateau and cliffside buildings. It has to be Kir Sabal. But then there's that dragon hand thing still lurking nearby. Sigh. May as well let Arnie check it out before they head on out. Reistal does ask to come however, so far as at least civilization of some sort.

​

Peach rolls her eyes. "Fine...", she sighs. "I guess we can let the dirty old man come."

​

"I'm 38...", mumbles Reistal.

​

With a "Whee!" Cobbler jumps off the tower, Peach casting levitate on him before he hits, and they approach. Most hold off at a safe range as Arnie directly approaches and Kurururu stealths around behind on guard.

​

"Hello!", says a skeleton-form Arnie to the huge clawed bone hand. "I'm like you! Are you lost? Do you need a friend?"

​

Who knows if it can hear, let alone understand Common, but the thing doesn't seem convinced. The weird thing, Kurururu notes, is it's posture. This isn't normal undead behavior. The hand crouches and freezes, if anything like an animal in fight-or-flight mode. The grung readies his bow as Arnie moves closer, the rest set to rush forward if needed. It taps a finger.

​

"Do you understand us?", asks Arnie. "Can you write? Like this?". He demonstrates by writing out 'HELLO' in the dirt with his foot. It shuffles, looking confused as best a severed hand can.

​

"It's a dragon hand, right? Does anyone know Draconic?", asks Col.

​

Indeed, a certain historian does! That college course was good for something. When Bertram writes out the same in Draconic script the giant hand animates excitedly... and writes back! After some very peculiar back and forth, weapons are lowered and tensions decrease as some details are learned. It doesn't know why it's undead. It has no memory of a previous life. It does, however, know where it came from. After Arnie approaches it to gently touch it, he asks.

​

"Can you take us there?", he inquires. The hand jitters, then lowers. Is it allowing Arnie to mount? It is! Skeleton-Arnie beams with pride as the big undead hand raises up on claw-tips. "Let's go, Handy Hands! WE RIDE!"

​

And they're off! Three on the dragon hand, two on Cobbler, and Col morphing into a tiger running alongside Samryn the team takes off due north. For hours they gallop through the wastelands under a hot sun, occasional undead unable to keep up with their rapid pace. The green-yellow haze decreases as they near the forest's edge, and after a moment to wait for a passing brontosaurus to avoid getting crushed underfoot they're once again back in the jungle. What was once a dense green environment that was vaguely threatening to the Handy Hands, after all they've seen lately it's almost a welcome return to normalcy! The journey lasts to well near sundown when a break in the trees is seen up ahead.

​

The big skeletal hand stops and gestures. There, in a sunken swampy grove that was perhaps the lair for some great beast at one point in time, the massive bones of what can only be those of a fully grown dragon lie half submerged. And more. Dozen upon dozens of small humanoid bones and rotting wooden masks litter the area. Batiri goblins?

 

It doesn't take long to suss it out: Whatever the dispute, it's clear that it was mutually-assured destruction between the dragon and its batiri assailants. When Col spots old baskets and a huge lattice net of vines over the dragon bones the gang can't help but be a little impressed: Seems the goblins trapped the dragon in its own watery lair then poured in baskets of quippers (DM: fantasy piranhas). Brutal way to go, but apparently effective. Judging where they are, Kurururu and Bertram reason out on their previous recall of Chultan wyrms that this is likely what's left of Ormalagos - called "Needle" by the goblins - a green dragon that presided in central-eastern Chult.

​

The big skeleton appears mostly in tact but its right hand is conspicuously missing. Origin mystery solved. But why did only the hand animate after death? And why is more like a half-intelligent beast than a ravenous zombie? Bertram confirms no necromantic energy otherwise. They ask the hand. It shrugs. Well, the best a hand can shrug. Who knows? Sometimes the mysteries of Chult remain so.

​

As for this lair... there must be something left, right? Kurururu climbs down and skips across the pond to the bones, evading quippers and pointing out a safe route to the others. There's no great dragon hoard to be seen, but a spot on the sunken pond's rock wall is curiously devoid of vegetation. A secret hatch! Hmm. No handles though.

​

"Guys, the plants around this wall died to poison. Maybe poison opens it?", reasons Arnie.

​

The grung places his hand on the rock. His skin toxin is nowhere near the intensity of a green dragon's breath, but sure enough, given a bit of time the secret door cracks open. Looks like the goblins didn't get quite all of the dragon's stash!

 

Gold, large diamonds and gems, enchanted ammo, and even a magic wand from the little alcove... hey, not bad. As night comes, the Handy Hands rest assured that their day spent following the whims of a weird 10-foot tall undead dragon hand at least ended in quite the decent little payoff.

​

Tropical heat, a scorching sun roughly in the same place as it was when they left Mezro, vine-covered rotting remnants of a forest, distant moans of undead... if this is still Chult it's definitely not a region they've heard of. Peach in quetzalcoatlus form swoops down to pick up Kurururu and the pair try to make more sense of it from the sky.

​

The deforested wasteland stretches for miles in any given direction but it isn't limitless, the edges of typical jungle seen beyond the low-hanging greenish-yellow blight. A village to the south. A distant plateau far to the northwest with what almost looks like structures on it's cliffside. And, most intriguingly, just a few miles to the north lies a small fortress sunken into the eroded muck of this area. It's an easy decision when the pair returns. Whether their ultimate destination or a place to just catch a break from the wandering dead - to the sunken fort!​

​

A hastened pace is easy with Peach scouting on high, but not all hazards are easily seen. A large patch of loose earth goes unnoticed and most trod right by, but with a sucking *shloop* noise Col and Arnie find themselves stuck. Quicksand! Okay. Don't panic. Struggling just makes it worse. How to get out?

​

Turning into a familiar sand snake of his homeland Col hopes to quickly slither out but no luck. Bertram readies a looped rope with Cobbler while Kurururu rushes to grab a nearby vine, but it's no good! The young T-rex can't quite yank Arnie out as the duo sinks deeper and deeper, Kurururu falling in as well while trying to position his vine. At least Peach is safe above - wait, nope, now she's also caught by the muck as she dives in to help. Arnie and Col go under entirely... Okay, panic time!

​

Quicksand sloshes away as Col pops out of snake form to mold earth, just enough for the druid to clamber out. Kurururu scrambles out then all work together to yank out a suffocating Arnie followed by the giant quetzalcoatlus. Did... did they almost die to muddy dirt? Let us not speak of it. The dirt-covered Handy Hands walk away, doing their best to pretend this embarrassing moment didn't happen. (DM: It was like 15-20 failed dice rolls by a Level 9 party. It was amazing.)

​

An hour later the stone fortress looms. Well, part of it. Much of it appears to have sunk under its own weight, with only two towers and sections of parapet left angled above the surface. Massive bones emerge from under the edges of the fort. Giant turtles! Was this a mobile fortification at some point, sitting on the backs of the things?

 

Whether climbing, levitating, or flying taxi up the gang find themselves on top the nearest tower, even Cobbler lifted up with some inventive rope harness crafting. Looks old down in the interior... does anyone still dwell within? Time to find out. With Eku and Cobbler left behind to guard and Peach back in elf form, the Handy Hands descend into the dark.

​

Just enough light filters down to make out figures in the long hall below. Bodies. Bodies that Col finds have skulls erupted with plant matter. They've seen this before and it's no one's favorite memory. Sure enough, when he risks attacking one all of the bodies animate and a short fight is on! Two rounds and minimal scrapes later the plant-zombies lie unmoving once again, and the investigation is on. So let's see. Who lived here?

 

A decorative suit of armor is intriguing, but what truly catches the eye is the engraved stone mural. Chultan warriors crush an opposing tribe and inscribed below in Old Chultan: 'The Great Purge of the Eshowe Tribe. For the Glory of Mezro.' They know who led this genocide. They know who was exiled for it.

​

"Well friends.", states Bertram. "I think the statue teleportation worked correctly. We may have found Ras Nsi's home."

​

The others nod. Is the legendary fallen paladin here in this decrepit fortress? Is the source of the Death Curse here? Best be prepared. It's time for a preparatory rest as wounds are bandaged and healing potions divvied up while Arnie guards. Well, "guards". One of the doors beyond has a curious green glow behind it and the handyman just can't help himself to peek. A horticultural grow room lit by phosphorescent mushrooms? Neat!

​

"Hey Peach! There's shrooms to eat in here!", says Arnie.

​

"Sweet!", replies the bard. "Wanna get high?"

​

Thankfully they hold off until the others are done resting, giving Arnie time to spot the slight movement he sensed earlier. Juvenile yellow musk flowers - the same plants that feed off human brains and create plant-zombies. Nuke 'em! A few quick blasts later and it's in to explore. Barrelstalks, wildroots, Nilhogg's nose, some zabou mushrooms... someone has been here very recently and converted this dining area into a grow lab, but who? Kurururu harvests all he can - nothing psychotropic, but that doesn't stop him from encouraging Arnie.

​

"Bite into that one, and keep biting", he says, pointing at a barrelstalk. "You'll find yourself within."

​

And so the handyman gets to eating! He munches away until he finds the water reservoir inside the large stem (hence it's name) and sees, there, in the water, his own reflection staring back. Peach winks at Kurururu and the pair make the water magically change color and sparkle, Arnie gasping in surprise.

 

"Kurururu! I see myself! I see my inner self! Now what do I do?"

 

"Drink your essence.", suggests Kurururu, which Arnie happily does. The bard and the grung try not to laugh as they walk away to explore an old armory. Most gear here is past its prime but the finely crafted ykwla in a display case is too nice to ignore. Shame that it takes exploding an acid trap over Peach and Kurururu to open it and collect, but it's soon theirs.

​

Back in the nursery, Bertram cracks the door where a large throne room lies beyond. Something moves. A big something. It's clearly a plant, and not a friendly looking one. Even out of full view the gang knows what to do: kill it with fire! Arnie's fireball detonates as Kurururu runs in and up the wall for a closer look. What was perhaps at one time a yellow musk flower is now a mutated writhing mass of roots and corpses. Clearly someone has been doing some twisted botany down here, but who? Kill first, ponder later!

​

A lightning bolt from Peach and an ice knife from Col set up Bertram for the ultimate plant murdering spell: blight! The mutant plant mass visibly shrivels as water vapor hisses out of it, looking very much worse for wear as it lurches forward to whip with roots and let loose a zombie from its collection of corpses. Another fireball from the handyman and a quick one-two punch from Kurururu later, the freakishly large yellow musk flower variant lies still.

 

Threat gone, the partially flooded room fits the working theory. The throne's blue gem insets dimly radiate the symbol of Mezro and a nearby mural depicts a fierce bara leading soldiers. There's no doubt now. This was once Ras Nsi's fortress. Unless he got into mad plant science though it looks like someone else may have moved in since then. In the moldering old quarters down a hall behind the throne, Peach finds an old journal that sheds some light.

​

It's a sad tale (part 1, part 2). Some poor bastard survived his archaeological colleagues and seems to have went insane, abandoning his humanity and committing all to botanical experimentation. The eladrin elf ponders the increasingly mad writings when Bertram is heard a room away.

​

"Everyone, come here. Look at this door.", calls out the historian.

​

A more elaborate door than the rest, and one with engraving above it: 'One worthy of Ubtao may enter'. The Handy Hands look at each other. Well? Are they worthy? Only one way to find out! The door easily opens and - at the surprise of no one - a maze lies beyond. But a maze for what purpose and to what end?

​

At one dead end Col finds a dull red orb: 'One worthy of Ubtao should have the strength of his children'. A test, surely. Let's see what it is. Four spectral velociraptors appear and shriek in fury, bypassing everyone else and running at the druid who touched the orb. It's easy enough to deal with the four small spirits, the red orb glowing bright once the last is defeated.

​

"Peach!", says Arnie. "I think having a bad trip!" Ghost dinosaurs and glowing orbs after eating his way to his inner self? It's too much. Once the handyman is calmed and reassured, they think they know what to do. Find more orbs, and solve them!

​

'One worthy of Ubtao should face their fears' is inscribed under a yellow orb, spawning a blazing wall of fire when touched. Is it something to be afraid of? Col and Kurururu find they can simply jump through it the illusory flames and the yellow orb alights. A blue orb found by Bertram states 'One worthy of Ubtao must be hard to deceive', but touching it doesn't exactly have a desired effect. Out of sight of all, the historian shrinks to just an inch tall and gets sucked into the orb. Well, crap.

​

Peach's strategy of "always turn left!" eventually gets her and Arnie to a green orb. 'One worthy of Ubtao should be a convincing leader', a spectral soldier appears and forbids her to pass when touched. Talking nice doesn't get results but the spirit relents under the bard's intimidating command, and the third orb alights. Now where did Bertram get to? The others find a tiny little historian looking sad inside the blue sphere... strong magic, but thankfully an easy fix! With the other orbs glowing, a simple touch by Kurururu makes Bertram plop back into normalcy and the final orb glows brightly.

​

The grinding of stone on stone. The rear of the maze opens. A final chamber awaits.

​

Where the maze showed signs of repeated footsteps assumed to be those of the mad botanist, here dust blankets an otherwise untouched shrine to Ubtao. A circular maze pattern dominates the floor, and on the far wall underneath a mural depicting a mobile fortress being carried by massive skeletal turtles sits a small but ornate chest on an altar surrounded by gold coins. It's trapped to heck as confirmed twice over by Peach's mage hand, but maybe Bertram's lock picks can get it open? It's a big "nope" when the room fills with gas a third time, though thankfully Col's wind manipulation blows it away.

​

Meanwhile the rest work to clear dust from the floor to find more than expected. Desperate scrawlings on floor and wall as if etched into stone by knife point. 'I GAVE EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! FOR YOU MY GOD, AND STILL YOU FORSAKE ME!', and 'MY MAZE IS BROKEN... I BELONG NOWHERE...'. This is not the work of a squatting plant enthusiast. Long ago, here someone lost faith in the deity of this land.

​

But it does not deter Kurururu. Part out of curiosity, part of out reverence, he traces his hand along the maze. It takes the assistance of the others to clear the dust and find the way, but finally his amphibious fingers find their way to the circular maze's center. And then: *click*. The trapped chest opens.

​

Powerful spell scrolls within befit a paladin of mighty skill. A large diamond rests next to empty slots for two more, and most intriguing, a note: 'When your bara falls you should revive him with more expediency. Death is an inconvenience that I have little time for.' Death indeed. It sounds like a certain someone was no stranger to dying themselves.

​

Mysteries on top of mazes. But, for now, the Handy Hands can relax a moment in this forgotten citadel of an exile.

​

The ancient priest named Cha leads the way through narrow city streets and the Handy Hands follow. They may be the honor guard for this old man's final pilgrimage, but there's an expected confidence in this follower of a maze god. Cha speaks of young foreigners that helped him earlier in the Agricultural Quarter - could these be the cultists that Brokenbarrel wants them to deal with? Concerns of the next Quarter over fade from mind as soon as the great temple comes into view.

​

Buttressed spires encircle a looming tower made of crystal and gold stretching perhaps ten stories into the sky. The Temple of Ubtao. They've seen it a few times before - it's hard to miss! - but never this up close. It's also hard to miss the converging boulevards now turned into swampy 60-foot wide channels surrounding it. At least there's one tiny rowboat present.

​

Clouds of insects bite as Bertram takes the oars, ferrying Cha and his tiger Samryn across first. Then it's back for Col and Arnie, second trip smooth as the first until Col hears it... tick tick, tick tick, tick tick. A clock? In the water? When relayed to Bertram he panics:  Sergeant Jeb's story! A ticking undead dino-croc! With as much force as his academic musculature allows he rockets the boat towards the temple, occupants jumping out on dry stone as a water-sprinting Kurururu joins.

​

The grung shaman peers. Yes. There. A row of spines parts the waters and submerge again. Tick tick, tick tick, tick tick. So much for rowboat travel! Thankfully Peach has been keeping a couple casts of polymorph on reserve, the bard turning Cobbler into a big friendly croc of their own to ferry herself and Eku across in a sneaky fashion. Safe. For now.

​

What a temple! Arnie walks around to verify size and finds that the illusion of it looking the same from every direction is not an illusion at all, but some sort of weird spatial magic. Surely this temple has a backside, but even a full circle only shows them the front. Approaching the doors, Arnie can't resist temptation to push aside creeping vines and look at the intricately etched crystal walls underneath... where someone looks back.

​

"Hello Arnie!", says his terrible father whom he despises. "It's so good to see you! I've decided your non-profit handyman business is such a good and well-meaning venture that I'm going to give you all the loans you need for it! No interest! I love you, son! Praise Lathander!" The kicker is when his mother appears, his parents lovingly hugging and waving to their boy.

​

"YOU'RE NOT MY REAL DAD!", screams the handyman. Or he thinks he does. The rest of the gang hang by idly, wondering why Arnie is just standing there touching the temple's wall. The rest approach and Cha explains.

​

"A test, of sorts.", says the priest. "The temple's walls show one's heart's perfect desire. A reminder that we weave our own fates, to be humble and pragmatic, and that we are all less than perfect."

​

Assured by the old man that this is a place of peace, the Handy Hands venture through the parted giant doors and into the home that Ubtao built at the center of his city. Warm light glimmers through stained glass windows and reflects off crystal walls. Larger-than-life humanoid statues of jet black onyx line a grand hall, six at the end. The Hall of Champions. Each statue exhibits some sort of power - super speed, the gift of flight, and so on -  and represent the former baraes of Mezro, each gifted a special ability by Ubtao. The six at the end were the barae when Mezro fell to ruin... but wasn't there seven? Why is there a seventh podium with no statue on it? Bertram starts to say the name of who he thinks the statue would be of but Cha cuts him off.

​

"SHH! Do not name The Exile! To speak a bara's name here is to transport to their statue.", warns Cha. "Speak any other name than that one."

​

Oh really? Speaking aloud "Alisanda" Bertram vanishes and reappears at the foot of Artus' wife, the bara Alisanda. Neat! 

​

"Bertram, you didn't tell us there'd be rides!", exclaims Arnie. And fun it is! All Cha can do is shake his head as the handyman runs around the hall, shouting "Alisanda" repeatedly and treating this most holy site as an amusement park.

 

No harm no foul, at least. Eventually talk turns to the fact that this grand hall has no doors except for the way they came in. How did people get to the rest of the temple? Turns out the answer is a single darkened archway in the back. Walk through, think of where you want to be, and you'll emerge there. Time to explore!

​

Kurururu and Bertram test first and find a monk's quarters with a dead terrarium. Not quite the garden they tried for but it sort of fits. Col and Eku search for knowledge and find a small library... mostly looted, but clay tablets with pictographs are worth investigating. On Arnie's request he and Peach go for a "gift shop" and find a room with rows of dusty jars. What's that there? Dried herbs? Gotta be smokable, right? Arnie wastes no time stuffing it into his pipe. And choking profusely.

​

"Wanna hit?", says an ill-looking handyman to the bard. 

​

"Yeah! Pass it over!" Now two Handy Hands hack on bad smoke. It's only later they look at the jar's label: 'Chamomile Tea'. Nevermind. It's Rebel Time! After some dried-up potions are found it's back to the others. Soon all catch up with Col and Eku to examine the tablets: A priest speaks before what Col can only assume is Ras Nsi, then is seen before the exiled bara himself. Teleportation magic! They could try the same, but do they really want to be face-to-face with the legendary fallen paladin of Ubtao?

​

Well. Nevermind that for now. Peach and Arnie have the munchies! A temple kitchen nets a 100+ year old loaf of bread. More of a rock than a sandwich base. Dang. It's a welcome distraction back to holy ambiance when Cha beckons all to see a grand sight. Through the dark archway they go... and what a chamber lies beyond!

​

The vast round room glitters with scintillating colors pouring from large stained glass windows, where under a golden dome two seats of pure platinum rest: One sized for a human, one sized for a god. The Throne of Ubtao and a lesser seat for the presiding leader of the barae. An intricately etched map of Mezro in its prime adorns the floor, tiny glowing lights slowly move across it. Flat on his belly to inspecting closer, Bertram's eyes widen in excitement. They're people! Tiny little glowing people, going about their Mezroan lives! Is this representing the past? The present? Artus once said that he wasn't sure if today's Mezro was even the real one. The historian can help but ponder if this is what Mr. Cimber was referring to.

​

"Peach! Kurururu! Give me a lift!" 

​

"Ooh, me next!", says the bard. Soon Arnie and Peach astride the giant seat of a god. Where Ubtao himself sat... what a place to get blitzed. Time for another rip of chamomile tea! After another moment of trying not to puke the ancient priest finally interrupts. It's time. There's one room here that only the barae and those returning to Ubtao may enter, and he's ready for his final journey.

​

"And now my maze ends. I go to Ubtao himself, to trace my life and join his realm." Cha smiles.

​

The old man steps up to the darkened arch, then hesitates. He turns. Bertram raises his hand, the rest of the Handy Hands soon following suit. Cha nods, turns, and then with resolution strides forward to meet his god. The chamber falls silent.

​

There's a brief moment of reflecting on a life well lived, but then it's down to brass tacks. They came here to stop a Death Curse. This city have given them clues, but what to do next? 

​

"'The rot of death grips all from beneath the forbidden city.' ", states Peach. "Maybe we should look below the palace?"

​

And so they do, but the darkened archway just leads them to a flooded cellar. There's a shriveled old potato here, but nothing seems odd at all. Well, outside of the usual oddness of Mezro's ruins. Despite Arnie's interest in tuber rehydration to have something for his rock-heard bread, perhaps this just isn't the 'forbidden city' they are looking for?

​

Okay then. Plan #2. There's no statue of the exiled bara in the Hall of Champions, so where would saying his name take you? If Cha and the clay tablets are to be believed, saying Ras Nsi's there may give some very interesting results. Kurururu volunteers. It may be a suicide mission. No one knows.

​

"Kurururu...", asks Peach. "Are you sure you want to-"

​

"RAS NSI!", shouts the grung. And he's gone.

​

The void of space hangs. But then, the world reappears. Rotting stumps, tar-like mud, a greenish-yellow haze hanging in the air. Perhaps a forest at one time, but all that remains now is a vast stretch of sickly wasteland. There, mostly buried in muck, lies a large onyx statue of a bara warlord. Something moans in the distance. Something undead? Wherever Kurururu is it's clearly not Mezro. Soon Peach and Bertram join and more groans are heard. Something is taking notice.

​

All must say 'Ras Nsi' to catch up. That's all well and good, but what about Samryn? The tiger can't speak and talking to animals was Krenko's jam, not Col's. No worries. Arnie is on the case! The handyman dives and tackles Samryn, soon finding himself awkwardly spooning a barely-tolerant large predatory feline, caressing its face from behind as he creepily whispers it's masters name into its ear. 

​

"Shh... Bertram... Bertram... RAS NSI!"

​

Those already teleported aren't exactly sure why Arnie appears next to them spooning a tiger. But no one asks, either. Once Col and Eku say the words the whole team is together again... but WHERE are they? Is this even Chult? Living dead creep into view from multiple angles, rotting figures shambling out of the haze towards this new disturbance. Is it gonna be fight or flight? Arnie wastes no time flinging a fireball to detonate a small zombie pack - FIGHT it is!

​

Arrows and spells fly as the Handy Hands snipe the slow but relentless undead trudging forward, Peach taking to the sky as a huge polymorph'd quetzalcoatlus to dive bomb stragglers. One by one they fall, but every new commotion or explosion seems to attract even more from further away in the deforested wasteland. They can easily hold their own, but how long until the battle attracts more than they can handle? After dispatching the nearby undead the call is made: Retreat!

​

Five minutes of running. Save for the soaring dino-Peach, breaths heave. Distant undead still untiringly trail, but they have a moment to collect their thoughts in relative safety. Just minutes ago they were in the famous ruins of a holy city. But now...

​

Where ARE we? And what is this blasted and rotting wasteland?

​

In the weird gravity-twisting halls of Mezro's College of Wizards, what's left to explore? Leave no stone unturned! 

​

Hall #4 led to what turned out to be a spell-testing lab and Hall #5 to a study hall, both thoroughly looted by earlier visitors. The anomaly before the study hall, however... that was an experience.

 

Peach and Kurururu are scouting through Hall #5, which turns into stairs and leads into a huge blackened chamber. There's movement to the left. Everyone freezes, spooked. The movement stops. When Peach risks more light Kurururu furls his brow. Six distant figures are on the left wall: four humanoid, one feline, one theropod. All still. Hmm. He's got a hunch. He calls back for the rest to come forward. Sure enough, the wall's figures move. They're both behind and on the wall!

 

With their combined light sources the Handy Hands see the strangest of rooms. It's stairs. Stairs in every direction! Some sideways, some inverted, always arcing out of view and heading somewhere else. Another of Bertram's paper light planes descends their current path... then appears on a wall, then the ceiling, then another wall. It's quite the mind-bending piece of architecture! The grung grumbles. Is this how an advanced ancient civilization chose to spend their time and effort?

​

After exploring the simple study hall beyond it's back through the stair chamber, where Kurururu tries to jump from his current stairway to one on the ceiling and... stops mid-air. Having discovered the nexus of non-gravity between all the stairs, he hovers helpless dead center in the room's space. Which way is 'up' when every way is 'down'? It's fine though. Just need to get a rope to a friend.

​

"SHIELD!", Kurururu shouts, firing his bow.

 

Col hardly has time to turn his head - let alone raise his shield in time - grunting in pain as an arrow with a rope tied to it lodges in his shoulder. With a sigh he removes it, reeling in a grung-shaped kite rather than choosing to float a grung-shaped balloon around for fun. After Kurururu sheepishly heals up the druid's shoulder, it's off to Hall #6, the final one.

​

What a curious large floating liquid sphere! When Bertram pokes at it with his shovel, warm water pours out into the recessed marble tub underneath. Ah. A bath house! As Arnie pokes at caustic mold on an old towel Kurururu jumps on in. Refreshing! Shape water briefly freezes the large orb of bathwater-on-demand but otherwise it's simply a place to relax. Could be nice with a bit of fix up, if it weren't for all the strange and vicious things roving these ruins.

​

With little daylight left and a trip back to Promise not without its hazards, decision is made to shack up on campus for the night. But not before maybe inviting some friends. Peach smiles. It's been a while since her last ole' fashioned college mixer party! Why not send a "text" using skywrite above the school?

​

'JEB, COME VISIT. HOPE YOU HAVEN'T STABBED ANYONE. BRING BOYS.'

 

Could the signal bring threats? Maybe. But also maybe boys! The gang settles in, Peach and Arnie mixing rations into gumbo over a cafeteria fireplace while chatting of 'school spirit'. It's an attitude, the bard assures the handyman, not an academic ghost. Col better identifies the Orb of Shielding he pulled off of Edwin's body while Kurururu collects poisonous mold for future alchemic experiments.

​

Before bed Bertram goes over the book of translated prophecies once again. 'A soul eater grinds - A pariah wraps in serpents -The rot of death grips all - From beneath a forbidden city'. Is it referencing the Death Curse? He's sure his friends and allies could figure it out, should they bring their minds together. Stanza copied on to a scroll and jammed through the Living Pouch to Wakanga and Syndra for eventual response, the historian closes his eyes.

​

*         *         *

​

Dawn rays pierce the inverted cafeteria windows. No rain for a change! After a quiet night broken only by a decapus prowling at a distance, the well-rested Handy Hands are more than eager to see more of the expansive ruins. But first, let's check up on Jeb. How's everyone's favorite ghost-possessed Flaming Fist officer doing?

​

Not so well, it turns out! Poor guy seems to have carved a triangle on his own forehead overnight. Peach's cure wounds all but removes a bit of scarring, but how to purge this fellow back to normal? Arnie has an idea, but it's Bertram who beats the him to the punch. Stepping forward, vial of holy water in hand, the historian placed his palm on Jeb's head.

​

"In the name of my grandfather, some ghosts, and holy patrons... LEAVE THIS BODY!", shouts Bertram, pushing Jeb back. With a "noooooo..." an ethereal Mezroan spirit is shoved out of Jeb's body and rapidly disperses into the air.

​

Arnie's eyes go wide. "It was the School Spirit! I knew it!", says the handyman.

​

Another day, another exorcism! The officer thanks the crew with a bacon breakfast, some potions of healing, and a strange warning about a ticking dino-crocodile. Peach knows this story, but in the end wasn't the crocodile killed?

 

"Well that's the kicker. We're in Chult.", muses Jeb. "Things just don't stay dead here!"

​

Goodbyes are said, giant eagles are summoned and/or polymorphed out of fear of water monsters, and it's onward.  To the Residential Quarter! There's a curiously non-ruined home there that might just belong to an ally.

​

A labyrinth of narrow twisting walkways between houses, there's no mistaking that those who built the claustrophobic Residential Quarter shared Ubtao's love of mazes. The eagles land in an overgrown garden, Col's two birds staying behind while Peach flies back up on a polymorphed Cobbler to scout ahead. With no trouble she's able to direct the others to the oddity seen a couple days previous: one small home NOT ravaged by time. The door resists Bertram's picks but chimney access is no problem for a diminutive grung, the now soot-covered Kurururu letting the others in with ease.

​

It's a cozy place. Dusty, sure, but otherwise far more resembling a home vacant for months rather than centuries. A painting above the fireplace - a woman in elaborate armor smiling down at a familiar man kneeling in proposal - confirms home owner suspicions. It's Artus! That must be Alisanda: his wife and one of the city's bara leaders. The gang pokes around. Knickknacks from travels, chests of clothing and gear. Nothing too odd. A shield matching one that Dragonbait carries hints that the strangely smelling fellow has been around as well. Everything is left as-is out of respect of their fellow adventurer.

 

But where are Artus and "D.B.", anyway? Getting a skyship lift out of Jahaka Anchorage with intent to return to Mezro nearly two tendays ago, shouldn't they have beaten the Handy Hands here? Col finds Artus' travel log and confirms that there has been no new entry in months. Hmm. The gang is just a moment into pondering when two sets of heavy footsteps run by.

​

Peach sees them first from above, then Bertram: Minotaurs! Not very big ones, but two more of adult size follow in the same direction. A minotaur family? Kurururu readies a defense atop the chimney, but the bull-headed humanoids continue on without notice. They decide to wait it out, Arnie pillaging Artus' herbal tea stash and enjoying a cuppa before continuing on.

​

It would be easy to get lost in the winding streets trying to find this maze's center, but it's an easy trek with Peach's view before Cobbler's polymorph fades. The white-stoned plaza at its center is surprisingly undecorated save for a tall silver spire emerging from a large pool of water. There, two young minotaurs splash as their parents sternly admonish them... in Sylvan?

​

"Why hello there.", Peach calls out calmly in the fey tongue, Col also understanding. "What is this place?"

​

The minotaur parents look surprised, but not aggressive. "Are you not a pilgrim? This is the Heart of the Maze. It is sacred to us, much as it was to this city's Maze God and his people." They nod towards a small figure on the far side of the pool.

​

Indeed, they are not alone. A man of impossibly old age smiles a toothless grin as the Handy Hands approach. He is Cha, a priest of Ubtao from an order known as the Mazewalkers, and he has returned in his 130th year to the city of his youth for one final pilgrimage of his own. The waters of this pool, Cha explains, gives glimpses into future parts of one's own maze of life. And so the Handy Hands partake, all but Col cupping the cool water to their mouths.

​

A ruined auditorium surrounds Kurururu and at its center a great dinosaur looms: One not unlike a T-rex, but feathered and glorious. Giant bats swarm around Arnie and land... no... not bats, but creatures made of living stone. Bertram sinks into bed as he has before in dreams of the Shadowfell, but this time firm hands grip his arm: hands belonging to a woman with a devilish grin and golden coins for eyes. The Chultan city that Peach finds herself in is unknown, but the elven woman descending stairs like royalty surrounded by bowing red-garbed supplicants is like a familiar scene from her homeland.

​

All quick visions. All mysterious. Do these scenes await the Handy Hands? Cha smiles. Their mazes are not his to know.

​

"Now, it is time. I have come here to die. The maze of my life has reached its end." The ancient priest does not look upset. "One final journey to the temple of my god."

​

He struggles to stand but the Handy Hands help him to his feet. They're about to say farewell when they stop themselves. No. This old man who has spent his entire life helping others through their own struggles does not deserve to walk to his end alone. He deserves more than that.

​

And so the Handy Hands walk with him, Honor Guard for one of the last of this lost city's people.

​

The blast of frozen energy washes over the gang. An old man runs down the hall cackling about frozen food. Game On, Handy Hands! It's time to stop a lunatic librarian!

​

Animated inky words skitter out of the way as Peach charges forward and inspires others to do the same, but what should be a surefire hit with her geetar-axe glances off a reactive shield. Col's ice knife finds purchase but magic resistance makes it clear that this old timer isn't going to go down easy. While Bertram saves the frozen tiger Samryn's life and Kurururu and Arnie rush to heal up their friends, no one notices an ember flying their way until the last second. * SHOOM*! A fireball  detonates scorching all but Arnie and the tiger, the mad wizard making a run for one of the library's spiral staircases as he spouts more nonsense.

​

As Eku runs from two stories below to catch up, Peach, Col, and Kurururu pursue and have little success connecting spell or blade with the wily fellow. A bit of Mezro's latent wild magic swirls in the bard's favor right before a pulling sensation hits the brain. Col and Peach resist, but with a *blip*, Kurururu vanishes...

​

...And he's on a book. A very BIG book. Or is he very small? Hard to say. Either way, the grung shaman is on the pages of a seemingly massive tome floating in space. He blinks. May as well wait this out. Kurururu sits down to meditate on how traveling with these new allies of his is often much like a strange vision come to life.

​

In the Material Plane the lunatic runs downstairs - but not so fast, old man! The bard and druid are on him in a second, Col growing in size and sprouting orange fur as he turns into a tiger and leaps forward. Again a reactive shield protects, but this time the madman's arcane energy expands into a shimmering ward that blocks the entire hallway. Blasts rain down from above as as the wizard runs into view of Bertram and Arnie looking down from above, but he hardly slows. At least Kurururu *blips* back into reality as the warding wall of force manifests, the wizard's concentration moving from maintaining one spell to another.

​

"Time for a good old-fashioned book burning!", yells Arnie as his fireball detonates shelves around the madman.

​

"Wait what?", says Bertram. "No? Let's NOT burn books?"

​

How to get past the magical wall? Kurururu ineffectively tries to punch through before Peach grabs him and fey steps them both to the other side - with instant regret as touching the grung's poisonous skin makes her turn green with queasiness. As Eku runs back downstairs with intent to fly back up, Tiger-Col sprints upstairs with a plan of his own. There's a brief moment of panic as Arnie and Bertram see a new tiger sprinting right for them... which then leaps over the bannister and down! The risky acrobatic feat pays off as Tiger-Col lands solidly among broken shelves, though Bertram takes the much more sensible route in quickly tying off a rope and descending down with measured safety.

​

Peach has the old man cornered, but he whirls fast and mutters familiar incantations. No! Polymorph! In a puff of inky letters the bard finds herself... turned into a crab?

​

"Heehee! Seafood!", the sage titters. Embarrassing. All Crab-Peach can do is snap her pincers angrily in retort.

​

"Let's turn the Fahrenheit up to 451!", shouts Arnie, another fireball blasting into bookshelves as Bertram shakes his head. Wood and old parchment detonate in flame, addling the madman's concentration and thankfully ending Peach's short-lived humiliation. The bard runs up from behind, Kurururu moves to cut off, Bertram rounds the shelves, and a very fast tiger rapidly approaches. There isn't much of anywhere left for a loony librarian to hide.

​

"I'm gonna Dewey DECIMATE you!", cries Peach, swinging down her axe. It's a critical hit! Tiger-Col's high-speed pounce hits a split second later, absolutely mauling the old man and knocking him prone (DM: another critical!). Bertram gets in a solid eldritch blast before the madman misty steps away, but there's no escape. In a flash the grung monk is on top of him, and with a single spear through the back the lunatic falls.

​

"Your cursed magic ends now!"

​

"Them's... fightin' words...", eeks out the old man. A final choking laugh, then all is still.

​

The Flaming Fist insignia and spellbook on the body confirm: It was Archivist Edwin, the Flaming Fists' senior researcher! The poor bastard had more than succumbed to the madness of Mezro's artifacts. They'll want to know of this, but first, time to secure the library. Inky animated words shrivel and dissipate as the Handy Hands explore. Bodies lie in alcoves. The archivist's hovel upstairs is covered in mad scrawlings on the walls. And what's this among his items - 'The Translated Prophecies of Mezroan Priests'? Much of it is gibberish, but one stanza stands out and matches Edwin's wall scribblings:

​

A soul eater grinds

A pariah wraps in serpents

The rot of death grips all

From beneath a forbidden city

​

Hmm. It's not clear if this is what drove the archivist insane, but it certainly has meaning. They'll have to try to make sense of it later. For now, though, it's time for a well-deserved rest. Col identifies an interesting green sphere (an Orb of Shielding). Kurururu confirms that Bertram had only been pocketing Edwin's writings and not the original scripts that made him lose his mind. Arnie is talked out of burning every bit of written knowledge to prevent madness. Then, it's time to move on.

​

The rain is letting up. The whiff of grung scent again... and ogre? Not something they care to investigate. With its rounded towers and arcane engravings, the curious looking College of Wizards next door is a far more interesting destination.

​

"It reminds me of my fey college days!", reminisces Peach. "Elf sororities, toga parties...". Bertram nods in appreciation.

​

"Oh. I just went to a trade school...", laments Arnie. Col and Kurururu shake their heads. College kids, right?

​

When the front doors of the College of Wizards open on their own, it's cautious steps forward. The foyer beyond has six identical circular hallways branching off of it and no clear sign of where they lead. Feeling inspired, Bertram folds a handful of paper planes out of his parchment reserve and casts light on each, starting with throwing down the left-most hallway...

​

...And a glowing plane flies out of the right-most hallway. Huh. The 2nd through 5th halls don't loop, and curiously even throwing a plane into the 6th doesn't come out the 1st. Enchanted architecture in a mage's school. Who would've thought?

​

Tying a rope around himself, Kurururu creeps down Hall #1 to scout. Magical sconces alight as the grung shaman moves in proximity. Weirder still, the rest watch as Kurururu seemingly rotates up the wall of the round hall from their point of view, gravity itself changing along with the sense of what is "down". Beyond is a large room it's many tables and chairs and what looks like a serving area on one side. Rope tied off to a table the grung snaps it twice - a signal for the others proceed.

​

Unbeknownst to him, the rest have been creeping themselves out in recalling an old folk story. A sorcerer from the frozen north who used her evil ways to turn unsuspecting victims into affordable furniture with unpronounceable names: the dread wizard Ikea! When the rope's vibrations are mistranslated into "pull me back", instead of a Kurururu its an old table that is pulled down the hallway. Eyes go wide.

​

"No! They turned him into a table! Damn you, Ikea! AVENGE KURURURU!", shouts Peach.

​

The crew runs forward to find the grung sitting and waiting... a doppelganger, to be sure! Tie it up! Kurururu doesn't resist, nor his weird frog familiar as Arnie ties little knots. The interrogation is on. Where is Ikea?! How do we turn the table back into Kurururu?! Who are you?!

​

"You are Handy.", deadpans the grung. "I am Kurururu."

​

"It's him, guys.", says Arnie. "Only the real Kurururu would actually be able to pronounce his own weird name correctly."

​

Energy mellows out as they scout the big room. It's a cafeteria! Enchanted and inverted, sure, but in the end a simple place to enjoy a college meal. No furniture-based sorcerers to be seen. After some exploration it's back to the main foyer to try a new technique for scouting.

​

Kurururu's eyes cloud over as he takes control of his familiar, hopping down Hall #2 to find another large room beyond. Many chairs on the wall face a raised podium... no... wait. He's on the wall. That's the floor over there. Another enchanted gravity oddity. When a chittering is heard and the familiar spies a creepy looking pair of tentacled creatures stalking from above, it hops out as fast as it can.

 

"Decapus!", Bertram exclaims, recalling a bit of undergraduate study. Ambush predators. As long as they stick together in moving forward they should be fine. And so they do, but forget "marching order". It's side by side - Reservoir Dogs style with Cobbler and Samryn following - into the large lecture hall unharmed. Well, the wall of the lecture hall, to be precise.

​

"I see now the power of knowledge, guys.", says Arnie. "Perhaps learning from books isn't so bad."

​

Stepping from "floor" to "wall" entertainingly switches the pull of gravity, and soon the Handy Hands are exploring in a uniquely 3-D fashion on all surfaces. While the young T-rex and adult tiger intimidate the decapi (decapuses?) into keeping their distances, Bertram finds the paper plane he threw down Hall #3. So #2 and #3 are connected, as are #1 and #6, but not #6 back to #1. Interesting!

​

Magical architecture aside, there isn't much to see. Much like the rest of Mezro it seems the College of Wizards has been thoroughly picked over by over a hundred years of looters. The doorway behind the raised podium leads to a professor's prep room. Dull, dusty, and fully looted there isn't much of interest... but what's this? Brushing away cobwebs Peach finds familiar arcane symbols. A teleportation circle! With her newfound ability in linking such circles for rapid travel, this is indeed a lucky shortcut to find.

 

As afternoon segues into evening in the ruins of Mezro, where will the Handy Hands head to next?​​

​

"Arnie, you're looking a bit more mature.", says Bertram.

 

When the handyman's skeletal visage returned to normal it was clear that the magical misfire took him from 'early 20s' to 'late 20s'. Huh. Well. At least he's nonplussed about it. Collecting themselves from the quick battle with T'fima, the Handy Hands head a bit south to gather leads at the old military training ground the Flaming Fist had dubbed 'The Gauntlet'.

​

Three large undead dinosaurs roam the low floor of the hippodrome-like ruins... hopefully a future punishment that they'll have nothing to do with. Guards huddling from the rain direct them to the local officer on duty, Jeb. He's a nice sort, for a colonial mercenary. Until he starts speaking in Chultan about carving triangles in people's foreheads.

 

"Jeb, you alright there buddy?", asks Col.

​

Poor Jeb has no idea that he's lapsing into strangely murderous comments. It's demons!, thinks Peach. It's magic!, thinks Bertram. It's spirits!, thinks Kurururu, a bit more on point than the rest. Local soldiers reveal that, yes, Jeb has been acting odd lately, leading Arnie and Bertram to diagnose that indeed some sort of possession is going on. The gang shrugs. Sorry Jeb - not their problem! The Handy Hands have a date with a library... try not to stab too many of your colleagues, yeah?

​

The rain lets up a bit while they weave north through the crumbling streets of the Scholar's Quarter. Eku is partway in to explaining that the Fist's senior archivist went missing in recent weeks and that any scouting party to enter the library since hasn't returned when there's a sudden *thomp*. Heavy footsteps from somewhere ahead. Quick! Hide! The bard mounts her geetar and engages Flying Vee Mode to take to the sky for stealthy recon between buildings.

 

It's a peculiar sight. A huge walking mass of vegetation, ramshackle howdah carriage on top... and a pack of vegepygmies riding within? Little threat as long as it continues on its- nope. Dang. It's heading right for the hiding Handy Hands! Peach lets loose a crossbow bolt from behind, the "moldies" shriek in their strange tongue, and the odd mount wheels around in hot pursuit. The rest understand her intent. Quick, scatter to the library while they're distracted!

​

It's all clever bard insults until the eladrin elf takes her eyes off the sky, unceremoniously smacking directly into the side of a building and crumpling in a heap at its base. That's gonna ache later, but thankfully there's enough time to cast invisibility and skirt around to where the crew has rendezvoused outside the Library of Mezro.

​

It's quite the building. Tapered spires break up large and elaborate murals of Chultan wildlife and hunting scenes. Giant dark wood doors loom above a crumbling stairway. When Bertram creaks the doors open and a sprawling gloom awaits within there's talk of taking it slow... until *thomp*. The plant beast is coming back this way! Everyone inside! Go go go!

​

The doors creak shut. Then silence. Water drips from a leaky roof and somewhere a rodent is heard scurrying. Rotting book and scroll shelves are in every direction - some standing but most collapsed in some fashion. It's a gloomy, eerie place with a vibe like a public museum after closing hours, and all instincts say to leave. But they made a promise to Qawasha, and their own search for info on the Death Curse leads the Handy Hands onward.

​

A severed human foot among moldering parchments. Great. Not foreboding at all. Kurururu begins scouting for humanoid tracks when Col sees something skitter nearby, quickly lifting some debris to grab... the word 'BUG'? It's literally the word 'BUG': animated ink that acts and moves just like a cockroach. What'd you catch, Col?, the others ask.

​

"Uh. A bug?", the druid replies.

​

The weirdness continues as Kurururu follows fresh tracks down a hall to a candlelit room, startling the word 'BAT' as he walks by, the ink-animal-thing flapping away on its B and T letter-wings. Maybe there's no words for how odd things are getting, but... well. Bertram follows, fishing line tied to his belt just in case he needs to find his way back to the front door, and the pair find the lit room to be full of recent journals and writings. Ah, the Flaming Fist's scriptorium for transcribing old texts! The grung shaman and the historian wave the rest onward, deciding to stay for a while and peruse knowledge while the others explore. Leaving Eku and Cobbler behind in the lobby, Arnie, Col, and Peach continue upstairs.

​

Second floor. Just as ruined and looted as the first, though a bit less dank. Casting light on his wrench and searching deep in a dusty old scroll cabinet Arnie finds one the looters missed. An excitingly normal find until some letters on the parchment melt and slip off on to the floor, reforming into the word 'INCHWORM' before inching right away. The trio stares at the curiosity until Peach notices a similar inky shape on Arnie's belt. It's rifling through his fanny pack! The bard acts fast to catch the ink as it forms new words.

​

"'MAGICAL PIPE'?", wonders Peach. "Arnie, what's in your fanny pack?" Sure enough, right there on top is his old magical tobacco pipe that he looted from a zombie's similar fanny pack many months ago. Are these words thieves? Are they spies? Let's find out! Arnie casts a neon yellow light on 'MAGICAL PIPE' (DM: Highlighting it, you see...) before the eladrin lets the words loose, which rapidly scurries across the floor and down a hall.

​

"It's a run-off sentence!", declares Peach, just moments before feeling the motion of another inky squiggle on her own gear. Flailing to get it off, the word 'BEANS!' flops off of her bag of magical beans and begins to high-tail it to safety. Not so fast, tiny word-monster! 

​

"I'll chop you into syllables!", shouts the elf, diving across sideways book shelving and broken reading tables to bring down her geetar-axe at just the right moment to splatter 'BEANS!' into a spray of inky droplets over Peach's face.

​

"I guess I minced my words...", says the bard. The universe groans.

​

Meanwhile down below, Bertram and Kurururu have been doing their best to sort through the paperwork and ignore the slamming around a floor above. The Flaming Fist's researcher, Archivist Edwin, left extensive well-documented and cross-referenced academic documentation that has the young historian positively giddy. The tamed tiger Samryn curls on the floor as the grung shaman works as Bertram's research assistant retrieving indexes, the duo unraveling an absolute treasure trove of knowledge. Mezroan and Chultan history, details on the city's seven barae "super paladins", major event timelines, stories of Ubtao's first worshipers... what an amazing collection! They work to collect as much of Edwin's work as they can before heading up to find out why their friends are causing such a ruckus.

​

While the nerds read and the bard gets into violent wordplay, the druid searches. Col explores the private reading rooms on the second floor to find them all full of uninteresting decay. Except for one. Two Flaming Fist soldiers lie face down stacked on top... no... fused to each other at the waist, expressions of horror on their dead faces. Some magic gone awry, it seems. The dull beat of footsteps are heard echoing off the walls.

​

"Hamburgers...", comes aged muttering, followed by a giggle.

​

Hamburgers? "Did you hear something?", Col asks Arnie as the handyman joins him to inspect the corpses. Negative.

​

"Mashed potatoes...". Arnie heard that. Peach too. More footsteps, coming from somewhere above.

​

"Do you like pie, too?", shouts out Peach into the dark. "What's your favorite type?"

​

Something drops down the open center area from the third floor. Peach investigates. It's a slice of pie. A PEACH pie! What does this hidden magician know? A quick poke finds that its illusory as Kurururu and Bertram climb up and join the others, finding Col and Arnie inspecting the weird cross-section of two fused bodies.

​

"Looks like these two have been..." Bertram pushes up his glasses. "...Conjugated." (DM: obligatory YEAH.)

​

"Hyphenated, actually.", says Col.

​

Peach holds up the illusory dessert. "It's a faux pie!"

​

Cautiously the Handy Hands ascend to the third floor. The threats here may be deadlier than their own puns and plays on words. Yet except for the patter of rain on the roof, it's a muffled and spooky quiet. A glowing neon yellow 'MAGICAL PIPE' idles nearby, Peach grabbing it to hold up to the library's gloom.

​

"You texted us?"

​

No response. The gang creeps forward. They're nearing the center of the main chamber when *WOOMPH!*, a cone-shaped blast of icy cold air comes out of nowhere and slams into the Handy Hands, damaging most and freezing Bertram's tiger Samryn solid. Beyond the blast a scraggly bearded man materializes on top of a toppled bookshelf as his invisibility drops, barefoot and in tattered robes, looking every part an insane homeless librarian.

​

"Porkchops! HEE HEE HEE HEE!", cackles the madman, as he flees down a hallway and into the dark.

​

The scene of soldiers teaching a sentient T-rex how to play cards could be a comical one, but The Nine Hells have no wrath like a mother returning to find her son being taught to drink, smoke, and gamble. What an earful they receive! As Peach berates the Flaming Fist guards and educates her son on proper behavior, the rest retreat to the Fortune & Glory to plan tomorrow's destinations. So much to see but where to start? Traveling the flooded boulevards by boat is one option, but they could set out by foot just the same. After Qawasha and Kupalué volunteer to stay back and safeguard Esmerelda, decision is made on the latter. Cobbler's coming though. Just can't trust him around these hooligans.

​

Night comes, and with it, rain. And strange dreams. For Arnie, its nebulous beings in a doomed romance. For Col, a battlefield from times past. Bertram witnesses the healing power of a holy symbol, and Kurururu the frustrations of a deity. Even Peach experiences thoughts from outside her own mind, a baby smiling at her before vanishing. All begin and end in a watery expanse, the visage of a mutant crocodile-like creature coming and going. Morning comes. The rains continue.

​

What was that about? The Handy Hands and Eku try to make sense of it but ultimately decide to get on with their planned excursion. Into the ruins of Mezro they go!

​

Rain pours down in the early morning hours as they cross from Promise over to the city's walls, then down into the district known as the Merchant Quarter. It's a mess of abandoned storefronts, inns, old taverns, and artisan workshops all thoroughly looted within the last century. Whether Flaming Fist patrols or otherwise, at least well-trodden paths through the chunks of urban detritus and overgrown vegetation ease navigation. After inspecting a café, it's onward to the Grand Market. 

​

The rumble of undead groans is as dense as a beach's crashing surf. They've been warned about this. With enchanted bells ringing morning and night attracting mindless hordes, going through the main entrances seems a poor idea. What about checking it out from above? After Arnie failing at parkour and Kurururu guiding everyone up to the roof by rope, the handyman's cast of light on a mortar chunk then dropped below reveals a hint of the shuffling mess of zombies within the large building. Wait. Did that one just poke at the glowing mortar with a stick?

​

When Peach's mage hand gets more very much non-zombie responses, the rest look closer. A handful of the undead aren't undead at all... they're gore-smeared fakers! The bard yells down and the fake zombies scatter, one looking up and giving a quick "SHH!" before falling out of view.

​

"Uh. Did I just get shushed by a zombie?", says a miffed Peach.

​

What are they up to? Looters? Weird survivalists? It's tempting to investigate further but the gang decides their time is best spent elsewhere. The giant coliseum-like amphitheater down the street is surrounded by floodwaters. No problem for a sprinting Kurururu, the rest opting to fly over on a polymorph'd giant eagle-Cobbler rather than risk exposure to predators.

​

By the size and detail of the place it's clear that Mezroans loved their theater. Not much left in tact, sadly. The dinosaur statues lining the exterior are largely remain, but the interior is a mess of crumbling seats and boggy stage floor. It's an interesting ecosystem down there, but the threat of lurking gators keeps Kurururu, Col, and Peach wisely away. What draws Arnie and Bertram's eyes is a massive stone seat low among the benches. A quick Cobbler air lift over reptile territory nets an archaeological inspection.

​

Ahh, an inscription in Old Chultan on the seat! It's hard to make out all the cuneiform, but it looks like this was the personal chair of Ubtao himself. Even a god likes a bit of mortal theater, it seems. Eager to see more of the city, the Handy Hands are ferried over flooded streets two-by-two by eagle-Cobbler over to the edge of the Scholar's Quarter.

​

Unlike the teeming sounds of the Market Quarter, this one is eerily quiet. Hardly a noise except for the falling rain. Between the silence and the scent of nearby grung it's enough to make Kurururu roll in mud for camouflage. Most follow suit, even Cobbler (now back in dino form), though for Arnie it's a quick "Yarr!" to activate his skeleton form (DM: see sessions 75/76!). Thoroughly messy, it's off to check out the stately manors and institutional buildings of this ward.

 

An old children's school. On the way to sate Bertram's curiosity another party of travelers is spotted in the distance. They're avoided... until a choking scream is heard, followed by a shout.

​

"DEFILERS!"

​

There beyond the school in a city square, a wrathful figure descends upon the other party and skewers one of its members. No time to debate! It's the Handy Hands to the rescue!

​

The eladrin and her dinosaur son blast ahead just in time to see a black wave of energy radiate out from the figure and utterly annihilate the other group, a quick blast from Peach turning its attention on her. With a point and a roar, the figure directs a wave of ravenous ghasts towards the Handy Hands. The grung shaman's great speed gets him right in the middle of it all and in seemingly dire straits, but a well-placed Stunning Strike buys everyone considerable time! Peach continues forward upon Cobbler while the rest of the crew blast from afar, the ghasts rapidly closing in.

​

Kurururu narrows his eyes. Tattered armor but of ornate design, and the Chultan man within is clearly not undead himself. Who is this guy? There's no time to ponder further before a ghast bites from behind, necrotic saliva paralyzing the grung.

​

Though sometimes few of words, no one ever debates Col's timing. With a running start the druid wildshapes into a charging allosaurus and plows into Kurururu's attackers, nearly flattening one into the path's muck. Bertram and Peach unload into the stunned figure as Arnie summons a giant wrench with spiritual weapon... and groans.

​

The rest look over. As his wrench manifests, latent magical energy swirls in an unexpected fashion and Arnie's skeletal bones bleach white with age. Gah, that's right! Eku warned that spells sometimes have side effects here! Best be careful! (DM: Arnie will find out later, but he physically aged 6 years!)

 

When the armored man regains his senses he wastes no time dealing with his attackers. Kurururu and Cobbler blink out of existence as banishment hits, both suddenly finding themselves floating in some other plane's starscape. While Bertram hacks at ghasts and Arnie's fire blasts fail to connect, a fuming Peach jukes to the right and raises her geetar. Never banish a mother's child! A blinding flash of a lightning bolt tears across the square scorching man and ghast alike, concentration upon spell fades, and the grung and dinosaur blink back into reality just as quickly as they popped out of it.

 

Time to go all in! Ghasts fall left and right to Col and Kurururu, then all attention is turned to the vengeful attacker. He perseveres even through Bertram's most fiercely-charged smites, but eventually its a whack from the large spectral mace that brings the man down.

 

"I... only protect my city...", ekes out the figure as he lay bleeding.

 

Wait. What? Kurururu takes in the man's appearance once again. This is no raider! There's some quick talk about maybe sparing this fellow's life but the grung doesn't wait for agreement, using his healing ability to bring him back from the brink.

​

Under the blood and wounds is an aging man, though still strong. Acknowledging defeat, he sits up. He is T'fima. And not only is he Mezroan... he claims he's one of the fabled barae! His Common is a bit spotty but the scene they happened upon is explained easily enough: The other party had stolen from a nearby building and T'fima has sworn to bring brutal justice to all who rob from the holy city. Slowly he unsheathes his scimitar.

​

"The symbol of a bara...", mutters T'fima, handing it to Bertram. It's a beautiful blade. Maze-like patterns swirl in its bands of folded steel. It's physically hot to the touch. The bara offers it to the Handy Hands - a sign of him being bested in battle - but the historian just can't do it. With respect, Bertram hands it back.

​

Questions abound. Under the rain in the once-again quiet Scholar's Quarter, T'fima responds to each in turn. Yes, he is a bara, though a disgraced one. An evil ring influenced him to turn on his fellow barae. He pried himself from its corruption and isolated himself in regret before a foreigner named Artus Cimber took on the ring's burden. One day the city fell to ruins in the blink of an eye, and ever since he's been protecting Mezro, hoping to please Ubtao and redeem himself.

​

He mentions another bara, Alisanda, and her love for Artus Cimber. He insists that he has no idea why Mezro fell to ruin so quick. He claims that he is immortal due to his status as a bara. He mentions Ras Nsi as a former colleague, the only bara to ever be exiled. And, above all, he speaks of reverence for the city.

​

"Respect Mezro...", T'fima says, standing and nodding. "...And it will respect you."

​

The Handy Hands collectively nod back. They're not sure if this former leader is an ally or even a positive force, but one thing they agree upon is that he's worthy of respect as well. Sheathing his blade, the bara T'fima bows in salute and walks away, disappearing into the heavy rain.

​

There's hardly time to appreciate the grand ruins of Mezro from their clifftop viewpoint before the chase begins. The vegepygmy panics and flees, the gang in quick pursuit as they clear the teleport disorientation from their heads.

​

"Weed! Wait!", shouts Bertram. "We've met before! We're friends!"

​

The small fungal humanoid slows and turns, doubting. Is this the Handy Hands? They look so different than they did many months ago! It takes some convincing, but eventually the creature's eyes light up. Bertram's tie! Col's skin! Arnie's hat, which he lends to the creature! Kupalué - or "Weed" in the Common tongue - touches his own bowtie (see: Session 6. Wow, it's been a while!) then excitedly leads on when they ask if Qawasha is near. The silence is striking: a vast city below, yet just wind and insects are heard. When Col shouts up the large tree that they are led to, a familiar balding head leans over a branch far up and vines descend to pull our heroes into the canopy.

​

It's Qawasha, the druid whom they befriended long ago in Fort Beluarian! After warm greetings they take turns introducing the friends gained since that time, Peach and Kurururu. The eladrin bard's flashy entrance makes the older druid smile, with Peach riding an awkwardly flying Cobbler polymorphed into a giant eagle. Kurururu regards the Chultan with the odd green eyes and immediately feels a kinship. This is a fellow searcher of life's mysteries. The grung also can't help but notice the druid's bandage-wrapped left arm and withering dry rot... Qawasha suffers from the Death Curse.

​

There's a lot of catching up to do! After the crew relates their travels, Qawasha tells of his. As usual he is doing what he can to combat the undead. Occasionally he comes back here to Mezro for clues as the city was the intended target for Ras Nsi's undead army long ago. 

​

"Look, a cup!", says Arnie to Kupalué, holding up his 'I Heart Chult' mug and signing a symbol just learned. "Trade?"

​

The handyman earns his trademark fuzzy hat back and the vegepygmy proudly wears the mug in it's place. When Qawasha informs of a Flaming Fist base just below the cliffside they quickly decide their path. Down the tree and down a manual lift that lowers them hundreds of feet, a series of wooden buildings and barracks sits on stilts above the flooded basin.

​

"Welcome to Promise.", says the older druid.

​

Opinions are mixed. This is clearly the easiest way into Mezro, but their previous experiences with the Flaming Fist left a bad taste in their mouths. Opportunistic plundering scum, at best. At least, as Qawasha explains, he's still in good graces with them as an associate of convenience and he's more than happy to facilitate what he can. After the tension of a rapidly landing giant eagle that turns into a sentient talking T-Rex is diffused, it's onward to meet the commander of this locale.

​

Yindala "Brokenbarrel" Harkathi is a mountain of a woman. The grey skin, bald head, and 8-foot height of her goliath heritage would be enough to intimidate anyone. The double-sided battleaxe? Doesn't hurt. As suspected she is as surly as she is huge. Greetings border on hostility until the Handy Hands start boasting of their exploits.

​

The goliath laughs. "So! Badasses, eh? Alright. No entry to the city for now - it's Flaming Fist jurisdiction - but tell you what. I have a job for a bunch of badasses. Find me on the city walls outside Promise after noon. Fortune and Glory!"

​

It's not just a greeting... it's the name of Promise's bar! Retreating to the tavern to talk strategy, the Handy Hands can't help but overhear Qawasha pleading with Commander Brokenbarrel but getting denied. What was that about? When Col asks, the older druid assures he'll inform the younger druid later.

​

The Fortune & Glory is utilitarian but it'll do. The 'Grudges' board on the wall is intriguing. Not the friendliest crowd, as Arnie finds out first hand. Identical twin bartenders is a curiosity that Peach takes to, putting on moves to earn some food from the twins Jarrick and Garrick along with a variety of fruit wines (nevermind that they learned how to ferment from their time making prison hooch). When Qawasha and Kupalué enter, it's down to business.

​

What awaits in Mezro? Between Eku and Qawasha's experiences the place sounds like quite the strange mess. Clouds of insects. Water predators. Meandering undead. Magic not necessarily always working as intended. Rumors of predatory constructs fueled by rampant magic called "living traps". The ruins have largely been looted over the years, but anything removed from Mezro bizarrely turns to dust, hence the lack of artifacts elsewhere like Port Nyanzaru's museum. Then there's what they call 'gilded fever', a mental illness of greed that seems to infect anyone who holds local wealth for too long.

​

Oh. And a cult.

 

"A cult?", inquires Bertram. Qawasha nods. Apparently a beast-worshipping cult is waging a guerilla war against the Fist, which is the likely 'job' that the druid believes Brokenbarrel has for the Handy Hands. As for his own intents... yes, he has the Death Curse. Concerned more for others than himself, Qawasha wishes to look for clues in Mezro's library but has been denied entry by Brokenbarrel. If the gang can't find a friendlier way in he'd be willing to help them sneak into the city at night, but perhaps all opportunities should be investigated first.

​

Brokenbarrel awaits on the massive city wall across a bridge from Promise, ancient statues dotting its circular perimeter. 

​

"The Fist came here first, you know.", she starts. "Fort Beluarian came second, but this is still our territory. Fools flock here in recent months to visit a giant mutant crocodile - a mudmaw - that they say dreams prophecies. Bullshit, I say... but it has my curiosity. Kidnap this mudmaw, and the reward will be handsome."

​

3,000 gold is tempting. But is Brokenbarrel to be trusted? The Handy Hands look at each other and nod. Much is unknown, but they do know the Death Curse waits for no one. This may also get them access to the library and other sites of note without being harassed by patrols. Bertram extends his hand, a massive goliath hand grabs it.

​

The hand grips tight and pulls the warlock in close. The goliath whispers intimidatingly: "I'll be watching."

​

When Brokenbarrel casually defaces a nearby statue as she takes her leave, it's more than Bertram who scowls. The center of an ancient civilization and literal home of a god, and all the Flaming Fist can think of is raping it for profit!

​

Bertram muses. "So it seems a foreign military power claiming dominion over the lands of others and exploiting it in any way they can really isn't good for anyone but themselves and clearly makes them the Bad Guys..."

​

"Get WOKE, Super White Boy!", replies Col.

​

The Handy Hands quickly talk plans, and none of them include keeping their deal with Brokenbarrel if they find more to this story that doesn't jive with her version. The Flaming Fist suck. That they all agree upon. But a prophetic crocodile cult, and all of this in a ruined holy city full of mysteries... what to make of it all?

​

The grung speaks up. "Do you know the story of Papazotl?", says Kurururu. The others shake their heads. Eku told the tale once but that was long ago. "The Trickster God Papazotl bows to no one, and teaches us that intelligence beats strength."

​

At first there's confusion, but then the others nod. Yes! Taking on Promise and Commander Brokenbarrel could be as deadly as Jahaka Anchorage, but perhaps shrewdness and guile can win where brute force cannot. To The Fortune & Glory!

​

Eku and Qawasha are found in friendly conversation ("We hooked up 'Jungle Mom' and 'Jungle Dad'!" - Col) and consulted once again. Another quick drink of fruit wine. Kurururu's familiar returns from scouting Promise with some interesting details, Bertram gives the grung his extending 10-foot pole, then it's down to the city walls once again. Col has an idea.

​

With a wave of his hand the desert druid summons two massive eagles with conjure animals, himself shapeshifting into a third. It's aerial tour time! Arnie jumps on Eagle-Col, the others jump on "Regal" and "Legal" as the eagles are dubbed, and it's off into the afternoon sky above Mezro.

​

What a view! The immense ruins are divided into four districts with a towering palace at its wheel-like hub, each in varying states of flooding and deterioration. First its over the Market Quarter, where a mass of cacophonous undead roam the grand market and the actor's amphitheater looks less a venue and more a watery house of reptiles. Flaming Fist patrols are seen below as the eagles soar over the Scholar's Quarter, where a muraled library and an oddly constructed school of the arcane arts stand out among the stately buildings, a former military academy now dubbed 'The Gauntlet' sitting to the south.

​

The city's hub - the imposing Temple of Ubtao - doesn't go unnoticed by Arnie and Peach. No matter what angle they view it from, it looks exactly the same. Is the tower rotating? Some sort of illusory magic? Certainly worth checking out later.

​

The Agricultural Quarter is a mire of swamp and wild plant growth, but a few things stick out. Abandoned plantations dot the ward along with a huge partially collapsed aviary... and is that a bird? A MASSIVE one! A flamboyant bird the size of a dragon perches atop the city wall and is warily avoided, continuing their circular flight to the Residential Quarter. The final district is the least deteriorated, but it's a twisting labyrinth of homes along narrow city streets that reflects Ubtao's maze of life, a unique silver spire springing from a white stone courtyard at its center. Finally rounding back to Promise, the eagles land and the Handy Hands take in what they saw.

​

Between shared goals with Qawasha and Brokenbarrel, sites of interest, and other curiosities, there's a lot that they want to explore. But where to start? Luckily with the offer of lodging and boat usage in Promise as long as tensions are low, they have time to decide. What mysteries does Mezro hold?

​

The color-drained city stretching below Bertram would be a dreadful sight if he didn't know this was just a dream. The last time he had a dream like this, spirits soared through the sky. Now... not a one.

​

"The dead cannot leave, Mr. Frode.", echoes the voice of Agamaya in his head. "Something traps them in your world." The young warlock nods. Instead of fear or anticipation, it's resolve that he feels before lucidly exploring his dreamspace.

​

Come morning, Peach wakes early and eagerly makes breakfast. Today will be a GOOD day! Memories of Krenko had finally settled in a place of happy recollections, and - more importantly - it's Cobbler's birthday! And by 'birthday' she means 'Awakening Day'! She and Col had been preparing for this: the druidic ritual that would gift the young t-rex with sentience, birthing him into the world again as the true adopted son of Peach.

​

As Col readies himself at the dino pen and Peach decorates with banners, the Handy Hands chat. Their vision at the Temple of Savras the previous evening had five distinct locations. What better place to do some research than the museum? Leaving the bard and druid to their ritual, Bertram, Arnie, and Kurururu head into town. The Museum of Chultan History is looking better than ever with exhibits fleshed out with new artifacts and informational plaques. Nice! Now, where to start?

​

Bertram's eyes are quickly drawn to a painting of the holy city of Mezro. Circular layout, divided into four, a tall palace at its center. It's a dead ringer for the vision! The history and lore is interesting, but it does strike him odd that this exhibit is the only one without any artifacts on display despite Mezro's importance and well-known location to the southeast.

​

Arnie is looking over the Eshowe exhibit and the fractured mask of King Toloki when Zaidi the curator comes by to say hello. No, she doesn't want Krenko's hand. No, she doesn't want a signed script, but thank you for offering! As Arnie gesticulates toward the curator who is politely trying to disengage, he stops mid-sentence when he sees the next exhibit over.

​

"Bertram! Look! It's the cliff, with the singing!", exclaims Arnie. Sure enough, it is! A painting of a series of buildings carved directly into a soaring cliff face. 'Kir Sabal': An ancient monastery of Ubtao inhabited by aarakocra monks, still in operation today. Another vision location identified!

​

Meanwhile in the museum's hall of religions, Kurururu sits down among arranged sticks and bones. The Trickster God Moa is honest and good-hearted. The grung closes his eyes. 'Do I continue to follow these Handy Hands? Do they walk the same path as I?', he thinks. He doesn't hear a response. But he feels it. It's warm. It's welcoming. If the jaculi statue could smile, Kurururu believes it would. He stands feeling a lot more comfortable about his companions than when he sat down, waxes philosophic with a passing Zaidi, then joins the others. After picking up lunch to bring back, it's back up the hill to home.

​

Spiral cut ham, grits, yams, birthday cakes all made by Peach. So much for lunch! While Col and Cobbler are locked in a trance-like state in the final hours of the ritual, the rest share info. The bard reads a letter from Zindar stating that the city is seeking diplomatic means to deal with the criminal dealings of Liara Portyr... though the Handy Hands are welcome to get involved if they wish. The museum info is shared and, despite still wanting to learn more of unknown vision locations, the ancient city of Mezro sounds like a very promising lead.

​

Col blinks. His large agate spell focus melts in his hand. Cobbler's eyes dilate. What starts as a growl turns to a scream.

​

"RrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHWHATARETHESETHOUGHTS?!? I CAN SPEAK?!? AHHHHHHH!!!"

​

The young tyrannosaurus freaks out - as one does when you're a simple beast suddenly bestowed sentience.

​

"Shh honey, you're fine, you're fine!", comforts Peach. "You're real now! You're my real smart boy!"

​

Col peaces out after 8 hours of 'dino whispering' and the rest quickly follow, either finding the entire scene of a dinosaur "gifted" consciousness as a horrific burden to push on any animal or, at best, an affront to nature. To Peach, though, her son just needs some love and comfort in this time of transition! She calms Cobbler and explains the world one bit at a time to a very quizzical talking t-rex, making for perhaps the strangest afternoon the Handy Hands have had in a long while.

​

Late afternoon. The Living Pouch produces another note from Wakanga... no. Not his handwriting. Any new discoveries?, it reads in a florid but shaky script. Ahh. Syndra Sylvane. Bertram shares all that they know with some note passing, then: Bring your friends by this evening. There is more to share. Well then, they shall! Come sunset, the gang ventures to Wakanga's estate and find it devoid of parties and guests for a change. The Merchant Prince himself sits reading at the foot of a bed where a weakened Syndra Sylvane lies propped up. After greetings, it's down to brass tacks.

​

"The Soulmonger.", the silver-masked archmage says. "That's what interested parties have been calling it. Whether person, place, or thing, it is the theoretical nexus of the Death Curse. I'm more convinced than ever that this 'Soulmonger' is in Chult somewhere. And now, we have some leads. Where are you headed next?"

​

They're almost all set to go, actually! Liara Portyr's treachery can wait. At Arnie's urging the Handy Hands are setting off the next morning by sea, Bertram having connected with their ships' crews earlier in the day to ready for a journey east. In five or six days they should be able to make it to the ruins of Mezro.

​

Syndra nods, pauses, then raises a withered finger. "What if you could be there in the blink of an eye?"

​

The Handy Hands look at each other excitedly. Teleportation! Of course an archmage would have ways of getting around! It's not without risks however, especially if it's a place a wizard has not been to. With improper calculations they could end up off mark... even potentially on the other side of the world! Still though. People are dying daily. Time is of the essence and the risk may be worth it.

​

"I'll research Mezro for as much details as I can find for Syndra!", says Bertram before heading to Wakanga's library.

​

"We'll ready our gear and dinosaurs!", chime in Peach, Col, and Kurururu as they head back home.

​

"I'll ask Eku if she wants to come!", says Arnie, heading out the door to visit their friend's house.

​

It's a flurry of evening activity to ready for a planned morning teleport. Col preps exploration gear, salvaging what he can from Krenko's old equipment. Peach readies her newly sentient "child" for a great adventure. Kurururu gets to know the old anklyosaurus Esmerelda. Arnie finds Eku is all too eager to join her friends on another grand journey... as long as they're willing to donate to the orphanage, of course! First Mate Gorjok swings by to plan the morning's navigation but is informed of the change in plans - instead their small fleet will await communication by Sending Stone should they be needed.

​

Avoiding Wakanga's extensive erotic novel selections, Bertram gets to work. Through one dusty tome after another he finds as much drawings and descriptions of Mezro as he can - anything to help Syndra locate their destination through the ether. Interestingly he finds more than intended: Descriptions of a vast garden built by the royalty of Omu and a temple ziggurat that exists both in and out of time. The final two vision locations! The Mezro plans are still on, but knowledge of the terraces of 'Nangalore' and the immortal oracle of 'Orolunga' will surely be useful. 

​

*         *         *

​

Dawn. The eladrin bard emerges with green-tinted hair, in Spring's season and ready for adventure. Dinosaurs loaded up with gear and passengers, loyal crewmates given house keys to housesit, and a grinning Eku is picked up on the way, it's off to Wakanga's. The Merchant Prince raises an eyebrow at the dinosaurs in his mansion as he pushes a wheeled chair, Syndra Sylvane sitting within. Every picture, note, and description Bertram had found on Mezro is handed over. Will it be enough?

​

"Here. Perhaps you'll get some use out of this.", says Syndra as she takes off a bracelet embedded with a large pearl and hands it to Bertram. A Pearl of Power! Useful indeed. From her chair, the silver-masked mage begins the incantation. Arcane energy swirls and a 10-foot diameter portal of blue smoke spins before them. 

(DM: The rest of the party visibly sweats bullets as Arnie rolls the d100 for Syndra's teleport... It's a 69. With a +15 from Bertram's research, will an 84 do it?) 

​

"Go!", says Syndra. "And good luck!"

​

One by one the Handy Hands rush through the portal, tiger and dinosaurs and all. It's a brief feeling of flying, of falling, of being everywhere and nowhere at once, until: *SHOOMP*. They land, then stand and look around. Familiar tropical skies. A clifftop overlook. A circular city far below, flooded with water, the spire of a tall palace at its center. Mezro!

​

But they're not alone. A small figure stands nearby, spinning around in surprise at the sudden appearance from thin air.

​

It's a vegepygmy. And it's wearing Bertram's old bow tie.

​

The grung worked as the Handy Hands slept. After a night of pounding and snapping nearly interrupting slumber they awake to find an exhausted Kurururu has built himself a nifty jungle treehouse... and something else.

​

"Hey Kuru Goo Kachoo! Whatcha building there?", asks Arnie.

​

"A ritual space. You'll see. Come back later.", Kurururu responds. 

​

It's fine with them! With a bulging sack of gold Col can hardly wait to hit the markets, and the rest follow. Despite other troubles the city's vendors are quite stocked post-piracy. After some pricey yet necessary spell reagent gems are picked up in the Jewel Market, it's off to the magical emporium Star Stuff and its odd githzerai owner Xorn. Time to burn some money!

​

An hour later and carrying much less gold, it's quite the haul. For Col: A Wand of Magic Missiles and a nifty Insignia of Claws that strengthens shapeshifted forms. For Bertram: A Chultan-style +1 shield and useful coil of Rope of Mending. For Peach: A shiny new modular geetar upgrade full of wind-based spells.

​

For Arnie... well. The Sentinel Shield is very practical. The creepy talking doll not so much. Xorn presents him with the Wand of Wonder that he'd left there a month earlier for repairs, so there's some terrifying possibilities. When the proprietor shows off a small onyx dog statue and describes it, Arnie's eyes bulge. A real dog on command? It's always loyal? And it can never die?! "TAKE MY MONEY!", he shouts, grabbing the figurine. Oh boy, he just can't wait to call upon his latest Little Helper!

​

While the rest meander towards The Thundering Lizard to grab brunch and catch up on town gossip, Bertram has another plan. As much as he despises Sachiel, his grandfather does serve a god of divination. Perhaps the Temple of Savras has some answers in these trying times? The expected "Junior!" grates at him as Sachiel greets, but the historian remains stoic as he explains his desire to learn more about the Death Curse. The head priest Grandfather Zitembe is quite pleased at Bertram's interest, as he and Sachiel are searching for leads themselves. Would Bertram be willing to bring his friends by later for a ritual?

​

It's familiar faces all-around in The Thundering Lizard! Tables full of the crews from the Handy Hands' two ships and another with Talgali, Flask of Wine, River Mist, and Shorty the tabaxis all wave in greeting. The boisterous dwarf Crumbeard greets his pals with a round of free breakfast (sausage... extra cumin!) and tiki drinks (one for the monkey and one for the doll, insists Arnie!). The dwarf shrugs. It's Tipsy Brunch Time as Peach, Col, and Arnie catch up on all the latest news.

​

Indeed as seen, things are in decline. Fear of the growing Death Curse has people gathering in temples. Doomsayers speak of End Times on street corners. Weekly events like dinosaur races, coliseum matches, and parades have nearly come to a halt. Business is good as fresh adventurers and goods arrive by ship, but how long until this Death Curse gets dire?

​

One Bertram added, more sausages and drinks, and one very drunk flying monkey later, it's up the hill home. Behind the small manor Kurururu's construction is finished. It's a funeral pyre. And Krenko's prepared body is on top.

​

"His spirit needs this. YOU need this. Death is part of life, and we must accept it.", says the grung dourly.

​

It's a hard moment. The Handy Hands have been avoiding this even though they knew they shouldn't. Closure is needed, and their goblin friend deserves more respect than just being endlessly preserved and laying in a shroud. While Bertram takes a walk with his tiger friend Samryn to clear his head, Kurururu and Peach do their best to bring Arnie out of delusion. Traditional as it is in Chult, the idea of cremation is a hard sell until the eladrin bard gets to thinking it over.

​

"Well... Krenko always did like cooked meats...", ponders Peach.

​

"Then he goes out like he lived!", declares Arnie. "Tasty and reeking of alcohol!"

​

Whiskey and rum bottles are poured over the corpse before a bizarre-but-tender series of moments in which each friend takes turns rubbing down Krenko with spices as they say their last words. Large mugs of tej in one hand and candles in the other, the fierce barbarian is ignited into a glorious blaze. It smells... actually quite nice! Hours later, ashes collected into Krenko's Pan of Perfection along with his scorched prosthetic Grapple Fist, it just feels like one more thing should be done.

​

"We should parade!", says Bertram, Alchemy Jug full of tej under arm. "It's what Krenko would do!"

​

And so they go! Down past the Temple of Tymora, picking up the street urchins of the Tok-Tok Brigade, waving to Eku outside the orphanage, up to the Grand Coliseum where a drunken Crazy Larry joins, through the Market Ward, and into The Thundering Lizard and picking up half the bar's patrons, it's a raucous roving street celebration of music and shouts of "Tok Tok! Tok Tok!" as the gang zigzags the parade all over the city. The crowd slowly dwindles, and eventually they find themselves alone at the very message board in the Harbor Ward that they had met Krenko.

​

What better way to capstone this celebration than to give a tour worse than the one that Krenko had originally given them? One by one the Handy Hands take their turns, each trying to out-do each other in terribleness. Col shows off piles of dirt, Arnie gets weird with his drunken monkey, but ultimately it's Bertram's nonsensical mumbling ramble that wins the prize.

 

Smiles all round. These will be good memories. But now, it's time to face the present. The Temple of Savras awaits.

​

Sachiel greets Kurururu, though it's hard to tell if he's pleased or disappointed when the grung doesn't try to stab him like the previous shortest member of the team once did. The grung's eyes go wide when he sees the celestial as his true self for a split second - a terrifying whirl of eyes and wings - but he doesn't say a thing. Surety comes; not terror. When new companions have allies such as this, surely the spirits have led him on the right path. Following beyond strange crystal balls swirling with ethereal eyes, Grandfather Zitembe awaits in a ritual sanctum beyond, a ring of pillows in the chamber's center.

​

"We will share this vision together. Have your minds prepared a question?", asks the old priest. The group nods. Talking at the tavern earlier they had settled upon 'Where is the cause of the Death Curse?'. They're ready. Sitting in a circle and hands held with the priest and the angel, it's hardly a moment before crystal balls envelop them and the world melts.

​

A decaying dwarf looks in a mirror before casting illusory magic and joining his brother. A silver-masked sage lies weakly in bed, her frail hand held by a Merchant Prince. People and faces fade in and out of view, all wasting away or grieving others. The hand-clasped Handy Hands fly upwards above a vibrant and wild land... then rocket forward.

​

Throat singing reverberates off of cliff walls, a monastery carved into its sheer rock soaring above the trees below. Wings of aarakocra monks flash by as a stone symbol of Ubtao grows and encompasses all. 

 

A heart beats. The pounding grows. Arteries spread like branches of a tree from a massive heart made of stone, slowly dripping blood as it hovers above a misty swampland. The marshes rapidly grows into dense green spires of canopy.

​

Stone statues guard a forgotten garden. Plants fantastical even for Chult grow in a ruined conservatory fit for a royal family yet lost to memory. An eerie croak is heard, a tall bird holding a spear turns as the group is whisked away.

​

Vast ruins of a circular city stretch below as if itself a maze, at its central hub a tall and shining white palace. The city spins. Or are they spinning? The spinning syncs, they fall through the ground and out the other side.

​

A solitary ziggurat sits peacefully at the base of a mountain range, but its summit is wrong. Sometimes seen, sometimes not, a temple seemingly out of time glitches in and out of view on the ruin's zenith.

 

All fades to grey smoke and once again they find themselves in the sanctum, the communing circle releasing hands. What a trip! But what does it all mean? Is the Death Curse from one of these locations in the vision? All of them? None of them?

​

"All you see is true... though maybe interpretive.", says Grandfather Zitembe. And interpretation is much needed. It's reasoned out that what was seen were perhaps ways forward. The circular city is believed to be the ruined holy city of Mezro, known to have such a layout. Zitembe is almost certain the bleeding stone represented the Heart of Ubtao, a sacred site he fondly remembers visiting when he was a much younger priest. The rest? Hmm.

​

It's a lot to take in. Perhaps thinking on it for the night and using their connections in the morning to research the visions' scenes is the way to go. Kurururu gives thanks by placing a mushroom in the temple's donation plate on his way out and Bertram tosses in some coin, his grandfather catching up for a word as he does.

​

"You know, greatness can skip a generation. I'm proud of you, Bertram.", says the angel in disguise. Only once has Sachiel called him by name rather than 'Junior', the first being right before his aasimar heritage manifested. But Bertram isn't having it. Who is this celestial to find pride in a mortal doing what - with all of his radiant power - he could be doing himself and more? The historian turns and leaves. Perhaps the eternal and the temporal may never see eye to eye.

​

The grung shaman walks the city alone and finds rumors and divined portents to be true. A magical sickness lurks here, just as it lurks in the deep woods. As Kurururu returns to his treetop nest and the rest of the Handy Hands settle down in their home, all are eager but pensive with shared thoughts: Where to? And how? ...And then what?

​

(Level 9 achieved! The Death Curse magnifies and time is ticking... what will the Handy Hands do about it?)

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Previous entries have been moved to improve load times and your reading experience. Click below to find them!
 

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• Chapter 1: "A Shipwrecked Misadventure." - Entries 1 through 11.
  ​After a disastrous journey at sea, four travelers become necessary allies and eventually friends as they get their bearings in a beautiful but hostile land.​
   

• Chapter 2: "The Shining Jewel of Chult." - Entries 12 through 20.
  Chult’s great city of Port Nyanzaru hosts a wealth of possibilities, where new friends are gained as the fledgling adventuring party establishes themselves.
   

• Chapter 3: "Famous and Infamous." - Entries 21 through 27.
  Local fame leads to larger concerns, and the crew find themselves as notable figures involved in the city’s events and intrigues.
   

• Chapter 4: "The River Expedition." - Entries 28 through 38.
  The Handy Hands bravely set forth into the uncharted jungles of Chult on a mission... and this time, they have experience and planning on their sides.
   

• Chapter 5: "Ruins and Robots." - Entries 39 through 55.
  Rumors of forgotten temple ruins are just too good to pass up, and the goal of retrieving a dead wizard’s construct leads to odd encounters with the locals.
   

• Chapter 6: "Death and the City." - Entries 56 through 67.
  A return to Port Nyanzaru is both welcome and ominous, as evil plots and villains abound, and news of an escalating 'Death Curse' ravaging the land emerges.
   

• Chapter 7: "Salty Shenanigans." - Entries 68 through 77.
  As city-sponsored privateers and entrepreneurs of dubious skill, the Handy Hands take on nautical threats both piratical and supernatural.

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