Mission 4 - Ransom Demands
[!abstract] The Job
Haul Amrik Vanthampur home to Mummy and collect the ransom.
The Ransom
We set off to deliver the sniveling Amrik Vanthampur back to his mummy, anticipating a hefty reward for our troubles. The ever-earnest Reya Mantlemorn tagged along, radiating righteous indignation. Navigating the heavily guarded gates of the Upper City proved laughably simple; our Flaming Fist credentials parted the guards like smoke.
Vanthampur Villa itself presented a similar, albeit private, display of martial readiness. Amrik, still clinging to his delusions of authority, waved us through his family's personal guards. Inside the opulent entrance hall, Amrik attempted some pathetic coded whisper with the stiff-backed butler. Oh, the predictability! We insisted on accompanying him to fetch dear Thelamra. As we stood there, a flicker of movement in the periphery caught my eye – a subtle distortion in the air. Just the barest warning before chaos erupted. Thurstwell Vanthampur's nasty little infernal imps, lurking invisibly in every corner, decided to join the party.
As they shimmered into view, stingers bared, Amrik made a desperate, foolish bid for freedom, scrambling towards the front door. Tsk, tsk. I intercepted him with a swift, decisive slash. We had warned him about funny business. He really should have listened. His brief, treacherous life ended there on the polished front stoop. Meanwhile, the butler, showing slightly more sense, bolted for a side door. Iliran Tilorri - Mike, quick with his staff, hooked the fleeing servant's ankle, sending him sprawling ignominiously in the hallway beyond.
My blade sang as I cleaved the nearest imp neatly in two – such fragile things, really. I then darted across the room to assist Thomus - Thomas, who was already gleefully trading blows with another of the little devils. All this delightful commotion naturally attracted attention. Three guards materialized in the hallway where the butler had fallen, three more burst through an eastern door, and another trio approached the main entrance from outside. Quick as a viper strike, Reya Mantlemorn dragged Amrik's cooling corpse back inside and slammed the heavy door bolts home.
Then, a moment of beautiful synergy: Iliran Tilorri - Mike placed a hand upon Thomus - Thomas's shoulder, and suddenly, our brawny companion unleashed a torrent of dragon fire! The inferno utterly consumed the imp we'd been fighting and the three unfortunate guards who'd chosen the wrong door to burst through. Glorious immolation! Not to be outdone, Iliran Tilorri - Mike clapped his hands, sending the three guards in the hallway tumbling like ninepins against the far wall with a thunderwave. Amidst the chaos, the butler seemed to have vanished. Thomus - Thomas and Baktha Tassup - Ryan waded into the stunned guards in the hall, each felling one with brutal efficiency. The sole survivor turned tail and fled deeper into the mansion's bowels.
From outside, frantic pounding began against the main door. Reya Mantlemorn, thinking quickly, shouted a rather creative warning: implying that Amrik himself was barring the door and that forcing it would surely tear his arms off. The pounding ceased abruptly. Silence descended upon the entrance hall, thick with the smell of ozone, burnt flesh, and spilled blood. Deliciously eerie.
I peeked through the eastern door. It was undecorated, a simple room filled with beds and a small dining table. Drawers were tucked beneath the beds, hinting at forgotten personal effects.
To the west, the building opened into a grand gallery. Black curtains, drawn tight against the southern windows, plunged the space into shadow, and a noticeable chill permeated the air. A graceful wooden staircase ascended at the hall's northern end, while in a secluded corner stood a large wax statue of a female figure, cradling a small tressym. A feather duster lay abandoned on the floor, a silent testament to the maid whose labors we had so rudely interrupted.
The room in the southwest corner of the house was a stately parlor. A pair of elegant chairs flanked a polished coffee table. On the north wall, a somber tapestry depicted winged angels plummeting from the heavens into a fiery abyss. The remaining walls were adorned with framed portraits, each portraying the stern visage of Duke Thalamra Vanthampur.
To the north, an elaborate iron chandelier hung over a table whose chairs were grotesquely carved in the likeness of devils. A wine cabinet, stocked with sixteen bottles of vintage wine and a set of eight ornate goblets, promised rich indulgence.
East of the main entrance hall, a door led to the kitchen. A delightful aroma of recent cooking wafted from within. Pots, pans, and utensils hung neatly above the prep tables. A dumbwaiter, complete with a call bell, stood ready for service. A tressym, sleek and curious, wandered casually about the room. Baktha Tassup - Ryan, ever the animal lover, offered it some kitchen scraps and a gentle scratch behind the ears. Its collar bore the name "Slobberchops."
The door in the northeast corner of the kitchen concealed a staircase leading downward, while the southeastern door opened into a fully stocked pantry.
We ascended the main staircase, our boots echoing softly.
The upstairs hallway was illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns. A subtle draft hinted at an open southern door, which indeed led to a balcony where six guards stood vigilant.
They immediately launched into a concerted attack, severely injuring me. Salah Secumber - Hal swiftly provided healing, while Baktha Tassup - Ryan unleashed a scorching fire spell upon one. Iliran Tilorri - Mike then finished off another. The remaining guards, relentless, grievously wounded me once more, forcing us to retreat to the bottom of the stairs. Iliran Tilorri - Mike, with a flash of reckless bravery, charged back up, blasting them with a thunderwave before finding himself mid-staircase. One guard gave chase, and we cut him down on the steps. We waited a tense twenty seconds, listening for any sign of movement. When none came, Baktha Tassup - Ryan cautiously ascended, confirming the silence. He then reported that the remaining guards were all dead, victims of blunt force trauma from the thunderwave.
The eastern wing contained a door that opened into a lavish vanity room. Baktha Tassup - Ryan began to meticulously search its contents.
The master bedroom was a grand affair, boasting a canopy bed draped with gossamer shrouds, a wooden privacy screen, and a cast iron clawfoot tub. A stout chest, secured with a lock, stood in the corner.
We attempted to pick the lock, without success. Then, with a shared glance, Salah Secumber - Hal and I took turns battering the chest until it finally yielded. Inside lay ledgers inscribed in the unsettling Abyssal tongue, a complete poisoner's kit, a calligrapher's set, a heavy coin purse overflowing with various currencies, and a set of pipes of the sewer. As we emptied the contents, a hidden trap activated, filling the room with a noxious gas. We managed to hold our breath, escaping before the poison could claim us, waiting for the air to clear.
The room south of the vanity contained an oak desk adorned with two black candles. A wrought iron spiral staircase wound its way upwards. In the corner stood a formidable suit of black plate armor, complete with a bucket helm, a longsword, and a shield. As Iliran Tilorri - Mike entered the room, an ominous orange light pulsed within the armor, which then turned and attacked him. I prodded it with my shortsword; nothing happened. Thomus - Thomas bashed it with his mace; still nothing. It appeared immune to normal damage. Baktha Tassup - Ryan then struck it with a ray of frost, which seemed to have an effect. Fire, too, proved efficacious.
The battle against the animated armor continued for several tense rounds before Salah Secumber - Hal finally delivered the decisive blow, bringing it crashing down.
The bookcases in this room groaned under the weight of countless tomes. One particular book, titled Last Charge of the Hellriders, proved to be merely a leather binding holding loose-leaf papers. Concealed within were two keys.
Thomus - Thomas investigated the top of the spiral staircase. There, he found two filthy, padlocked cages, each containing a human prisoner and a chamber pot. One was a male, the other a female. The man introduced himself as Kaejil Oroonmar, a tax collector. He claimed to have uncovered improprieties in the Vanthampur family's filings and, upon confronting them, was summarily imprisoned.
The woman, Shaleen Zoraz, explained she had been working on a sewer expansion project when she was ambushed and kidnapped. As we released them from their wretched confinement, we were set upon by three more imps. We dispatched them swiftly, then escorted our newly freed companions to the estate gates.
Back upstairs, the southwestern door led to Thurstwell Vanthampur's private chamber. The frail, forty-something man clutched a small wooden box. He launched a flaming bolt at us before diving under his bed, commanding his imps to attack. The imps, previously disguised as rats, transformed and flew at us from the two windows. We dispatched them with ease, then took Thurstwell captive for interrogation.
We extracted vital information from him: Thavius Kreeg had indeed arrived in the city and had recently met with Thalamra Vanthampur, both of whom were currently in the basement. They had conspired in the downfall of Elturel and were now striving to seize control of Baldur's Gate. Giving Elturel to Asmodeus was a central part of their nefarious scheme. Furthermore, the Vanthampur brothers had stolen the Shield of the Hidden Lord, a legendary magical shield rumored to contain a trapped devil named Gargauth. Gargauth had promised Thalamra Vanthampur that if she freed him, he would aid her in conquering Baldur's Gate.
We stripped him of his belongings and locked him in a cage in the tower, then proceeded to search the remainder of the second floor. Thurstwell's box was a cube-shaped container, six inches per side, appearing to be constructed from numerous small pieces. It weighed approximately three pounds.
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#session #mission