Sigh. No one ever said the life of a Night Mask is easy… but this is ridiculous. I should have known that following a Holy Woman of Beshaba, Mistress of Misfortune wasn’t going to be easy. I must have pissed off the Faceless though, because I have literally been through Hell and back. I will be heading back soon to report her death however, as I just saw Beryl stabbed through the heart by a Red Plume in Hillsfar, bleeding out in the street in the arms of her insane dwarven lover, Zyg the Cursed – a kin slayer who seems to lead the merry band of fucktwits that call themselves the Rough Pack.
I stowed away on the Valkur’s Wake leaving West Gate while following the priestess. Beryl was different than most practitioners of the Unfortunate One. She actually managed some converts in Westgate. One who happened to be a fellow Mask. He plunged to his death a day later during an assassination attempt we’d been planning for months. That was when I was called in… Apparently she had made it on the Faceless’ naughty list. And I was to ensure she didn’t come back to town any time soon and to harry her progress within her church. Well that was the plan however… it was unfortunate what happened next.
Beryl had started orating the fear of Beshaba on deck to any who would listen and had gathered a few eager listeners, mostly farmer refugee settler types from Hillsfar and abroad looking for a new life in Phlan. If you’re reading this missive and have never been, Phlan is a broken shithole that supposedly has promise as a settlement. It’s located at the mouth of the tainted Stojanow River. I guess you can trade freely there and it’s far enough away from Zhentil Keep to not be entirely corrupted by Zhents, but not really if you consider they probably own half the city anyway. I activated my cloak and assumed the form of a shipping crate and listened in a bit while enjoying the lull in action.
We ended up at the quarantined leper isle near town and some of the more heroic types decided to attack some odd gas bag blood suckers that were attacking plague victims. Stupid, if your ask me. After gaining the monsters’ attention they floated by and engaged in melee on the boat itself. That’s where I first really noticed Zyg. A terrible, bloodthirsty dwarf. He managed to kill one, but only after getting impaled himself… And our Beryl for whatever reason decided to heal him. This was the beginning of an unholy alliance. I mean, I’ve done some sick shit, but this dwur takes the cake.
There were a few others on the boat that formed a connection: Shilesque – a rather cute half elf rogue, Snowbell – a catwoman that hid behind me the entirety of the battle on the boat, Merra the Gnoll Shaman, Sasha – a half elf bard (rather quiet for one of his type), Slade – a mage that seemed to always think of poison… pretty sure he’s from Mulmaster. Wretched place. And Caerwyn – a badly disguised drow.