Session 42 - Bagpipes, Blood, and the Bronze Blades

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Session 42 - Bagpipes, Blood, and the Bronze Blades

Date: 8/3/25

DM: Wes

Summary

Shopping in Waterdeep

You start with a practical problem: if you're going to ghost through noble circles and poke at a vault tied to the "House of Valor," you can't show up in road-stained kit. Rumor says the bagpipes you're hunting move among Waterdeep's nobility, so you go hunting for clothes that say "we belong."

You step into Erudite Outfitters & Clothiers: racks of fine fabric, the smell of new wool and pressed linen, and a proprietor who greets you like a tailor and roasts you like a friend. Custom pieces will take one week and run 450 gp each—unless you accept last year's fashions "from the back" at 45 gp (you do not). Haggling follows, and you lock a group rate for bespoke outfits at 375 gp per person. These clothes can't be worn with armor, but they'll grant a +2 to Charisma checks against nobility—Deception, Intimidation, Performance, Persuasion—once you're in the room.

You also agree on one subtle layer of defense—waxed-cotton earplugs. They're just a few coppers, but they confer +2 to saves against effects that require hearing and −5 to hearing-based Perception. Cheap insurance if powerful music is in play.

Road to Baldur's Gate

Travel plans crystallize: Baldur's Gate → portal → Waterdeep. But first, the road. You hop onto the Coast Way, and make quick, confident progress under a clean sky. The next day, as the path narrows through broken rock, you hear it—steel on steel, voices raised, the rhythm of panic. You round the bend and see them: dragon cultists hammering a hodgepodge adventuring party that's visibly unraveling—a paladin on his back shouting "Strategic retreat!," a rogue and a bard perched on a rock. You don't hesitate, Deez Nuts to the rescue!

Karma moves first and almost ices the battlefield with Cone of Cold before catching the friendly-fire problem. She pivots, threads the needle, and casts Blight on the cult warlock—half damage on the save, still a heavy hit—then Wild Shapes into a lion, paws digging in for the charge.

Keyleth slides into partial cover and opens with the longbow, pixies swirling—two crisp shots, damage landing hard and clean; the warlock drops.

Shade arrives in a flurry of Magic Missile, cleaning one cultist off the field and staggering the other.

Symbols of the Raven Queen glint as Gootcha raises the crossbow: a hit, Sneak Attack riding off Alexios in melee, then Whales from the Grave lashes a second target.

Alexios is already in the saddle; Bucephalus thunders past and the lance punches through a fanatic—down on the second pass.

Xanphina rages and hurls the Returning Trident—one throw, then another—the first staggers, the second drops a fanatic.

The Bronze Blades

The rescued adventurers compose themselves with haste and poetry. The bard on the rock—Thistle—declares victory in verse. The paladin—Sir Cedric—brushes off his pauldrons and thanks you for witnessing their "final strike."

They introduce themselves as the Bronze Blades and say they're marching north toward Elturel to seek glory. You trade one dry "Population: Evil" as a destination and a few smiles that aren't entirely kind.

Shade challenges Thistle to a Battle of the Bards: lute versus a tiny dulcimer, crowd as judge. You both play. Everyone knows who "won," and no one thinks either of you did well. Shade contemplates turning the lute into splinters.

You pivot to searching bodies; Sir Cedric tries to claim the loot by declaration until Xan looms and Intimidates him into generosity. The take is 350 gp off the fanatics; the basic cultists were broke. Banter sours to advice: train first, glory second. The Bronze Blades peel off to bind wounds and practice rhymes.

Portal to Waterdeep

You finish the leg to Baldur's Gate and head to the Harper guildhall. Derek (yes, that Derek) runs the portal and shuttles you to Waterdeep after the customary activation dance (interpretive, individual, and mercifully undescribed).

You check in with Balderek at the Waterdeep guild. He's been mapping the Draakhorn's reach: dragons can hear it out to ~1,500 miles, which means almost the entire Sword Coast is under its shadow.

A gathering of lords is being organized this week to address the Cult of the Dragon; final venue TBD, likely a noble manor rather than the guildhall. Harper eyes are on Waterdeep's elite; despite fears of "turned" nobles, there's no sign of it yet.

When you ask after Duchess Calera, you learn she's an arts patron hosting a musician's gala tomorrow evening—with whispers she may perform herself. She's also been lobbying Waterdeep's lords to marshal their strength against the cult. Balderek offers to secure invitations by morning which gets you one step closer to the pipes.

The Gala at Lady Calera's Estate

You circulate through multiple rooms of the gala: some are for listening, others for performance, and people drift between them while you scout for signs of the Cult. You don't spot the usual cult markers (robes, five‑headed sigils) on anyone present.

Velvet-draped halls and the perfume of roses greeted you as you stepped into the grand garden pavilion. Nobles murmured over wine beneath golden lanterns while acrobats spun from silken cords above the crowd. At the center of the garden, Lady Calera—radiant in a deep crimson gown—lifted a set of bagpipes unlike any you had ever seen. The leather of the bag was the color of fresh blood; the chanters were carved from dark, polished bone.

Her first tune was sharp and commanding, cutting through the noise like a blade. When a heated argument between two noblemen nearly came to blows, Calera's fingers shifted, coaxing a low, mournful harmony. The air shimmered, suffused with drifting motes of red and gold. Tension melted. Even you felt the tug of old memories—some warm, some bittersweet—before the last note faded.

The Infernal Pact

Later, in the quiet of a side-room scented with sandalwood and old parchment, Calera dropped the illusion of humanity. Dark horns framed her face; her tiefling eyes glowed faintly in the lamplight. She spoke plainly: the instrument was the Bagpipes of Zariel's Lament, an infernal relic that magnifies a bard's magic—but curses mortal souls not already bound to the Hells. For a tiefling like Shade, the risk was nothing. For others, it meant eventual damnation.

Lady Calera asks Shade to try the pipes and Shade's first notes on the pipes, an old Tiefling Toot of the Fallen, carried a dangerous beauty, like a storm breaking at sea. The room feels the hush of something historic.

In exchange for the bagpipes that you will use in the fight against the dragon cult, if Lady Calera needs your assistance in a future battle or uprising, she will send word and you will come and assist her.

When the pact is struck, Karma and Keyleth have a moment of concern; the structure of this deal reminds them of deals with devils and the risks involved. You realize—via Religion checks—that the bargain has the shape of an infernal pact.

Shade reviews the Bagpipes of Zariel's Lament:

  • +2 to bard spell attacks and DCs
  • +1 AC
  • −2 Acrobatics; +2 to Deception/Intimidation/Performance
  • No shields
  • 1/day action to regain Bardic Inspiration
  • Curse applies if used without Infernal Heritage (Shade is safe)

It's noted that Halia Thornton wanted the instrument for the Zhentarim, but Shade possessing it satisfies the job—no need to hand it over, only to keep it out of cult hands.

The Pickpocket's Ring

While doing the rounds of the performing chambers looking for Cultist activity, Keyleth clocks a single fidgety guest who grows more anxious when you enter. On your Insight read, he's fidgety because of you—not general nerves. He breaks away, threading room to room toward the front. You follow.

Outside, you run him down—Hunter's Mark to keep track, Web to stop the escape—and question him. He admits he was just working the party as a pickpocket, especially looking for nobles. He produces a gold ring engraved with the Cult's dragon symbol, insisting he only knows it came from someone "wearing purple." He gives his name: Carter. You pay him 20 gp as good‑faith money and direct him to send future intel to the Harpers. He thanks you and promises to listen at windows and pass on anything useful.

From what you know of the cult hierarchy:

  • Dragonfang
  • Dragonclaw
  • Dragonwing
  • Dragonsoul
  • Wearers of the Purple (high-ranking)
  • Wyrmspeakers (leaders)

This may be a high-ranking wearer of the purple.

Back inside, Calera recognized the likely owner: Lord Valtheran, a minor noble with estates in the city and on the northern coast. She suspected he had already fled the city.

The City Manor

That night, Charlotte the spider familiar crept along the shutters of Valtheran's Waterdeep townhouse. Inside, servants moved briskly, packing cloaks, boots, and ledgers—signs of a long departure. No lord, no guards—only the echo of footsteps in a house being stripped bare.

Through Orc Lands

Heading north the next morning, you passed into territory claimed by an orc clan. At a fortified road gate, the Orc Guard Captain, tusks gleaming in the morning sun, looked Xanphina over with interest. In a rare show of openness, he shared the tale of Garmok the Chainbearer—a hero of The Skarhald Clan:

"He walked the mire with links unbound, Where fen breathes rot without a sound. He freed the scaled, but devils lied— A door to hell, and he inside."

"Chains mean many things here. Some bind monsters, some bind souls. The Chainbearer thought he came to break chains—but he broke a seal instead. He walked deep into the fen, past the whispering trees and the still ponds. Found a mine that wasn't a mine—a wound in the world. The prisoners there were half-drakes, hybrids chained by magic, foaming with madness. He shattered the shackles—and from the ground rose screams that never ended. A hole tore itself open. Red sky beneath. They say he threw his flail into the maw to seal it, and it pulled him in chains and all. But sometimes, on still nights, you hear the clang of steel deep beneath the muck. The fen remembers."

The captain warned that the mine still festers, and suggested a clan near Silverymoon may hold more stories of the Orc champions.

The Coastal Manor Confrontation

Sea-salt winds whipped across the bluffs as Lord Valtheran's Coastal Manor came into view—stone walls, wrought-iron gates, and the sound of gulls. Approaching the front door, you offered the ring under the guise of a friendly return. Valtheran appeared himself, robed in fine purple. His smile didn't reach his eyes. He denied the ring, and tried to send a servant to collect it. The lie was plain.

When you pressed, his voice hardened: "You've been a thorn in our side for too long."

You're shown the door—so you show your hand. Shade slides the ring on and punches a laborer, stamping the cult crest in his cheek: "Now you can see what the ring looks like." Steel sings; initiative is called.

Battle in the Courtyard

The clash was sudden and vicious. Valtheran unleashed a blast of dragon's breath from a gemstone clutched in his hand—flames roaring across the courtyard. Shade answered with hellfire. Xanphina's lightning-charged javelin speared through multiple foes, the air crackling in its wake. Karma's magic withered the lord's vitality; Alexios broke enchantments with hammer and holy light; Gootcha's bolts sang with the Raven Queen's hunger.

A cult spellcaster's Hold Person froze Shade in place—until Alexios' strike broke the concentration. Blood hissed on the stone as the fighting pressed toward the manor steps. At last, Alexios drove his spear clean through Valtheran.

The Drakhorn's Call

You haul Valtheran back from the brink to talk. The pretense drops: of course he knows the ring; of course he's a cultist. He reports "directly to the worm speakers."

Pressed about the horn, he finally brags: the Draakhorn is at the Well of Dragons, their leaders sounding it around the clock to call the dragons. Getting it there is why the cult's been quiet these past months. Shade pays that price in song—Ah Dang, Venomfang—as promised, and then you send him to the Raven Queen for good.

Spoils and Shadows Ahead

The estate yielded rich spoils:

  • 4,600 Gold
  • Gold bracelet (125gp)
  • Pair of Earrings (125gp)
  • Locket (125gp)
  • 1x Star Ruby (1,000gp)
  • 2x Star Sapphires (Blue - 1,000gp each)
  • Potion of Heroism
  • Potion of Superior Healing
  • 4x +2 Crossbow Bolts
  • Dragon Orb (1 charge remaining)

Yet the weight of Valtheran's revelation lingered. The Well of Dragons calls, and every beat of the Drakhorn brings the cult's victory closer.

Somewhere in the Mere, a mine still hums with the echo of Garmok's sacrifice. Somewhere in Waterdeep, a tiefling will one day call in your debt.

XP Awards

To be added by DM

Notable Characters

Locations

Factions Involved

Items Found

  • Bespoke noble outfits (+2 Charisma checks vs nobility, 375gp each)
  • Waxed-cotton earplugs (+2 saves vs hearing effects, -5 Perception)
  • Bagpipes of Zariel's Lament (acquired by Shade)
  • Cult ring with dragon symbol
  • 4,600 gp
  • Gold bracelet (125gp)
  • Pair of Earrings (125gp)
  • Locket (125gp)
  • Star Ruby (1,000gp)
  • 2x Star Sapphires (1,000gp each)
  • Potion of Heroism
  • Potion of Superior Healing
  • 4x +2 Crossbow Bolts
  • Dragon Orb (1 charge remaining)
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