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Session 9 Unfinished Business

- Waterdeep Dragon Heist

Dawn broke through the trees around Grezelda’s hut, casting pale light over the corrupted clearing where the party had just finished their battle with the final scarecrow. The shadowy creatures had been destroyed, the hag had fled wounded into the darkness, and now—as the first rays of sun touched the forest floor—something beautiful happened. Though in the aftermath, Blue felt an unfamiliar hollowness settling deep in his chest, a hunger he didn’t yet understand.

From the broken straw and scattered bones of the last scarecrow, a small spirit rose. A boy, perhaps eight years old, with dirt on his translucent face and hope in his eyes. He looked at each of them in turn, gratitude radiating from his ghostly form, before turning toward the sunrise. He walked into the golden light and simply… faded away.

Three children freed in total. The woods around them felt lighter somehow, as if a great weight had lifted.

The Hag’s Treasure

With the immediate threat ended, the party turned their attention to investigating Grezelda’s hut. The place reeked of corruption—bundles of herbs hanging from the eaves mixed with the stench of decay, jars filled with preserved organs lining the shelves, ritual components arranged with sinister purpose.

Lyraleth’s keen eye for hidden compartments proved invaluable. While Silvyr and Blue found the obvious evidence—small skulls arranged like trophies, bone charms made from children’s finger bones—it was Lyraleth who discovered the locked chest hidden beneath a loose floorboard.

Inside, they found items that told a heartbreaking story: three copper lockets, each containing a child’s drawing and a family portrait. The lockets belonged to the three children who had been turned into scarecrows, keepsakes from families who had never stopped mourning their loss.

Eostre carefully gathered the lockets. “We’ll bring these to Jonn,” she said quietly, referring to their City Watch contact who had survived Grezelda’s orphanage fifteen years ago. “Maybe he can help us find their families.”

The chest also contained more practical treasures: 85 gold pieces, 12 silver, and a Necklace of Fireball that could cast the devastating spell twice before its magic was spent. Lyraleth claimed the necklace—newly trained in second-level magic, she was eager to expand her arsenal of spells.

An empty iron cage, about a foot in size, sat in the corner. Blue examined it carefully and determined it had likely held the shadow creatures that fought alongside the hag. The thought of Grezelda collecting and imprisoning such horrors sent a chill through the party.

Cleansing Fire

Eostre stood in the doorway of the hut, looking at the evidence of Grezelda’s crimes spread before them. The skulls. The preserved organs. The ritual components. The cage that had held creatures of pure darkness.

“We burn it,” she said. “All of it. We cleanse this place from the forest.”

No one disagreed.

They used Eostre’s tinderbox to light the structure—the earlier fight had spilled stew across the fire, leaving them without an active flame to work with. The dried straw and old wood caught quickly, flames eager to consume the corruption. Black smoke rose into the dawn sky like a dark prayer being offered up and rejected.

As the fire grew, something remarkable happened. Silvyr felt it first—their druidic senses attuned to the natural world around them. The corruption that had twisted the trees and poisoned the soil began to lift. Diseased bark untwisted. The smell of decay lessened. The forest itself seemed to exhale in relief.

Silvyr knelt in the clearing and used Druid Craft to plant a small seed in the ashes at the clearing’s edge. A symbol of renewal. Of nature’s ability to reclaim what had been defiled.

Eostre spoke a prayer to Tyr, god of justice, her voice carrying over the crackling flames. The performance wasn’t perfect—her voice wavered with emotion—but the sincerity was absolute. Justice had been served, if incompletely. The children were free. The corruption was being cleansed.

But Grezelda herself had escaped.

“We’ve got a fucking hag to kill,” Eostre said as the flames consumed the last of the hut. “We’ve got to finish the job. Let’s go, boys and girls.”

Heroes of Undercliff

The walk back to Undercliff took about an hour, with the column of black smoke visible behind them the entire way. Farmers emerged nervously from the general store as the party approached, and Willem Broadacre, the weathered village elder, pushed to the front of the gathering crowd.

“The smoke,” he said, pointing west toward the woods. “Old Mara’s place. What happened to her?”

Lyraleth stepped forward to deliver the news. The scarecrows were eliminated. The medicine woman they’d known as Old Mara was actually Grezelda, an annis hag who had been living among them for fifteen years. The party had tried to eliminate her, but she’d escaped using her dark magic.

The persuasion check was exceptional. Willem and the others believed them immediately, though the truth was difficult to swallow. Grezelda had helped them, after all—monsters can help people, even while committing atrocities in secret.

Old Garrick, one of the older farmers, nodded grimly. “I told you there was something wrong with that woman,” he muttered. “No one just shows up and offers help for nothing. Those poor children.”

The party explained the horrible truth about the scarecrows—that they’d been reanimated children from Waterdeep, murdered fifteen years ago and enslaved even in death. The villagers were disturbed but grateful. Without the party’s intervention, they would have had to abandon their homes.

When the party offered to reach out to their faction contacts—the Emerald Enclave, the Order of the Gauntlet, the Temple of Tyr—to find a replacement medicine person, the villagers’ gratitude only deepened.

Old Garrick, the village’s oldest resident in his late seventies, offered his farmhouse for the party to rest during the day. That evening, the village threw a feast in their honor. The food offerings were generous despite the lean times—crops had suffered during the scarecrow attacks—and the drinks flowed freely. Everyone was jubilant.

The next morning, as the party prepared to depart, the villagers presented them with provisions for the journey and 50 gold pieces—everything the small community could scrape together.

“We would have had to abandon our homes,” Willem said as he clasped hands with each party member in turn. “Thank you for coming here and saving all of us. You are welcome in Undercliff anytime. We will remember you and your heroism.”

Children waved. Farmers nodded with respect. The party had made a difference in the world, and everyone knew it.

Lyraleth sang a travel song as they departed, her performance lifting everyone’s spirits for the journey ahead.

The Ogre’s Revenge

The road south toward Waterdeep was familiar now—they’d traveled it just days before on their way to Undercliff. Silvyr cast Pass Without Trace as they approached the area where they’d encountered Thud the ogre during their initial journey north.

For context: Thud had demanded a toll of five gold pieces per person to pass through his canyon. Blue had pickpocketed the ogre’s coin purse—which conveniently contained exactly thirty gold pieces—and presented Thud with his own coins as payment. The ogre had been delighted with the “shiny gold” and let them pass.

Apparently, he’d discovered the deception.

The boulder blocking their path was new—three to four meters tall, completely obstructing the road they’d used before. Trees had been dragged across the cliff area, forcing them toward the canyon path below.

Eostre and Silvyr (in brown bear form) attempted to shove the boulder aside together, but even their combined Athletics checks weren’t enough to budge it. Blue tried to climb over and failed spectacularly.

Null had a better idea. He sent his raven familiar down the canyon path to scout ahead. The raven’s stealth check—boosted by Silvyr’s Pass Without Trace—was excellent. It discovered exactly what they’d suspected: Thud the ogre and six goblins waiting in ambush, facing the direction they expected the party to approach from.

The party decided to bypass the ambush route entirely. Null used Misty Step to teleport to the top of the boulder with a rope, then helped pull the others up. From the top, they could see down into the canyon where their would-be ambushers waited.

And that’s when Null had a delightfully chaotic idea.

He used his Message cantrip—which has a range of 120 feet—to make Thud think he was hearing his goblin minions talking. In a perfect imitation of a goblin voice, Null whispered into Thud’s mind: “Wooden coins! They’re worth so much! I want them! Stupid ogre! We will eat him!”

The persuasion check was solid. Thud roared “WHAT GOBLINS SAY?!” and immediately crushed one of his goblin minions with his club.

The party watched the chaos unfold from above. A vote was taken: fight or flee? Three members voted to fight, two against. The reasoning was sound—Thud might come after them anyway, and they had the advantage of complete surprise with Pass Without Trace still active.

They circled around to approach the ambush site from behind, exactly where the ogre wasn’t expecting them. Final stealth checks ranged from 17 to 25. Complete surprise.

Eostre opened the combat with Bane cast on the ogre and two goblins. The ogre saved—his natural roll was high enough to overcome even the spell’s effects—but both goblins failed, gaining a -1d4 penalty to all attacks and saves.

Then the party attacked.

The fight was glorious. Blue opened with a devastating crossbow sneak attack that dealt 15 damage. Cog landed a dagger throw for minor damage. But it was Eostre who truly shone.

Her first halberd attack rolled a natural 20. She added Divine Smite to the critical hit, gutting the ogre with radiant damage. Her second attack—on her very next turn—was another natural 20. Two critical hits in a row, carving through the ogre with surgical precision.

Null joined in with an Eldritch Blast that also rolled a natural 20, dealing massive force damage.

Between the surprise round and the barrage of critical hits, the combat was over almost before it began. Silvyr (still in brown bear form) literally ripped one goblin to pieces with multiattack. The remaining goblins tried to flee but were quickly eliminated.

The party stood victorious over Thud’s massive corpse, feeling somewhat cathartic after the emotional weight of the previous days. Sometimes, as Null observed, you just need to “slot some guys” to work through your feelings.

Return to the City of Splendors

The journey south continued without further incident. As evening approached and the party crested the final hill, Waterdeep spread before them like a jeweled tapestry. The setting sun gilded towers and spires, making them shine like beacons. The great harbor was filled with ships from a dozen nations. Mount Waterdeep rose to the north, crowned by the mysterious Walking Statues. The city walls stretched for miles.

The faint hum of a hundred thousand lives drifted up to them on the evening breeze.

“You’ve been gone a few days,” someone observed, “and somehow it feels longer.”

By the time they reached Trollskull Manor—home of their tavern business “Lif Laugh Love”—lamps were lighting the streets throughout Trollskull Alley. Lif greeted them enthusiastically, his ghostly presence radiating happiness at their safe return.

They sat around the fire and told him everything. About Grezelda. About the children in the scarecrow suits. About the battle, and the hag’s escape. They showed him the three copper lockets they’d recovered.

Lif recognized the lockets but couldn’t remember the specific children’s names—there had been so many at the orphanage, and trauma has a way of blurring such memories. But he was horrified they’d encountered Grezelda, happy they’d escaped alive, sad that she’d gotten away, and ultimately grateful they’d made it through.

It was an emotional debrief. The party offered what comfort they could to their ghostly friend, and Eostre reiterated her commitment to finding Grezelda and bringing her to justice.

They rested well that night, fully recovered from their ordeal.

Report to the Emerald Enclave

The next morning, Silvyr transformed into a giant toad for the journey to Phaulkonmere, the Emerald Enclave headquarters in the Seaward district. Blue rode on Silvyr’s back, much to everyone’s amusement.

Phaulkonmere was as impressive as ever—a building grown from an ancient oak tree, surrounded by fields and orchards, radiating peaceful power. Even late in the year, the air smelled of earth and growing things.

Melannor Felbranch (affectionately called “Branchy”) greeted them with a smile. “You’ve returned, and all in one piece, I see. Jeryth will want to hear your report immediately. Come, she’s expecting you.”

Branchy transformed into a giant toad and hopped alongside Silvyr toward the main hall.

Jeryth Phaulkon, the treant archdruid who had literally rooted herself into Phaulkonmere’s great oak, spoke to them as a voice emanating from the tree itself. Silvyr delivered the report in their deep toad voice, explaining how they’d cleansed the forest, destroyed the scarecrows, and confronted Grezelda—though the hag had ultimately escaped using invisibility magic.

“Once again, it seems, this hag is causing issues in the area,” Jeryth’s voice rustled like wind through leaves. “This Grezelda seems to have left a trail of suffering across our lands. You may have made a dangerous enemy in her. But you’ve also done well with the mission I set you on. You created peace for the innocent, freed the suffering, cleansed a corrupted place. The land around Undercliff should hopefully heal because of you.”

The Emerald Enclave thanks came with tangible reward: Melannor handed out 100 gold pieces to each party member. The mission had been a complete success by every measure except one—Grezelda herself remained at large.

The Vintner’s Problem

Returning to Trollskull Manor, the party found they had another problem waiting for them. Eostre had a court date in three days—the result of her “scrumping” incident where she’d liberated some apples from Vintner’s Guild property without permission (or payment).

Hammond Kraddoc of the Vintner’s Guild had pressed charges, and now the summons was official: appear at the Temple of Tyr in three days to answer for the theft, or pay a 500 gold piece fine immediately.

Hammond himself arrived at the manor with City Watch guards to ensure the summons was delivered. The meeting was tense. Hammond suggested they could settle out of court—perhaps the party would like to reconsider their earlier refusal to join the Vintner’s Guild?

Null’s response was… undiplomatic. He used his Message cantrip to whisper threats directly into Hammond’s mind—words only the guild representative could hear. Then Null summoned his rapier in a way only Hammond could see, a spectral blade appearing and vanishing in an instant.

Hammond turned to the guards. “They’re threatening me! Can’t you hear them?”

The guards looked confused. They’d heard nothing, seen nothing but Null standing calmly.

Null raised an eyebrow with mock concern. “You need to think long and hard about what choice you’re going to make here, Hammond, because I don’t want to see you get locked up in a mental asylum.” The implication was clear: Hammond was hearing voices that no one else could perceive.

The guards readied themselves for potential violence but wouldn’t escalate unless the party struck first.

Hammond’s smile was cold, understanding he’d been outmaneuvered. “The Vintner’s Guild is always open. But I do now waive my right to drop charges. I will see you in court in three days.”

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

And then the world exploded.

Fire in the Alley

The fireball erupted in the middle of Trollskull Alley with a deafening roar that shook Trollskull Manor to its foundations. For a split second, the world held its breath. Then the noise came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Windows rattled. The very air ignited with orange light. Heat and pressure slammed into everyone like a physical force, and the manor’s windows blew inward in a spray of glass.

Screams erupted outside—some cut short, others continuing in pain and terror.

Dexterity saving throws were called. Null and Blue failed, taking piercing damage from flying glass and being knocked prone. Eostre succeeded, maintaining her footing. Hammond and one of the guards also failed.

As the party scrambled to their feet, shaking off glass and disorientation, they could hear chaos in the alley outside. People were hurt. People might be dead. And somewhere in that chaos, whoever—or whatever—had thrown that fireball was either fleeing or preparing a second attack.

Null, ever the opportunist, pointed at the prone Hammond. “Look at how far he’s taken his extortion! He’s resorted to terrorism!”

The absurdity would have been funny if the screams outside weren’t so real.

What caused the explosion in Trollskull Alley? Who threw the fireball, and why? Will the party find them before they strike again? And can Eostre’s court case possibly still matter after this?

Party Roster