With rod-bits in tow and headed toward Thudheim, the group (Barada) suffers a serious setback. One morning when awakened – Barada notes that his rod has gone missing. Gone. Vanished. Poof!
Although, with the disappearance, his old personality seems to re-emerge. Somewhat disheartened and a whole lot of disgruntled is a mild way to describe the mood that morning. Still – life _is_ and adventure…so onwards!
The road to Thudheim yields bits and pieces of adventure fragments, but it isn’t until contacting the Lathanderites that a real death-defying mission is found. The group and entourage pack up for a trip to the blasted region near the crater that once housed the city of Neverwinter. It seems that during the time of meteor diverting wizards and the rampages of Emor the Eeeevil a little thing like the lair of a draco-litch has gone unnoticed, unheeded, unplundered. The Dragon Cult has been active in the region given the power vacuum that has formed, and the Morning Lord has decreed that this abomination of life must be halted. With a High Priest of the church to lead the way, the group travels through bandit-ridden valleys and across forests populated (once) by human hating elves – across the fringes of a vast swamp (pausing only to stir up, then destroy a few Bog Mummies and into the remote foothills where the lair is to be found. Drawing upon an old map fragment, Tardalus the Priest of Lathander leads the group to a long hidden secret door. With the key in place, the rock wall is pushed back, revealing a dry cave and a pair of tunnels leading to victory or doom…
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