Session 8 – Slaad Clown Faces, Part One
Finally getting caught up on a backlog of posts. Just way too many irons in the fires. Too many fires, too, come to think of it.
When last we left our plucky heroes, they were heading north, ten days out of Baldur’s Gate, and still a month away from Waterdeep. The dragonborn paladin’s cover had been blown in a fight with raiding hobgoblins, which should make for some complications down the road.
The lead wagon on day ten belonged to the Cult, and a chance broken wheel caused their load to spill out all over the roadside – gold and gems. The party quickly arrived, warned the caravan master he should keep a sharp eye on that wagon, and noted a guard from another wagon’s eye light up as he spotted the treasure. The cultists quickly scooped up the gold, including an embossed chalice they had stolen from Greenest back in Session 1, and waved off all attempts at help.
That night the weather turned foul, but the caravan was slated for a brief stop at a lonely inn way out in the wilderness. They entered to make arrangements, but found an apologetic tavern keeper trying to shoo them out the door as five foppish noblemen taunted the rough edged travelers. While the party didn’t want a fight, they refused to back down and quit the dry confines of the tavern.
As everybody geared up for a fight, the noblemen showed their true colors. The leader’s skin split down the middle like a snake shedding its skin, and a massive slaad burst forth. His four friends, and the poor tavernkeep, also burst at the chest as baby slaads leaped forth.