The AV Club arrived in Daggerford as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the bustling military encampment. The sight was impressive—rows of neat tents radiating out from a small wooden fortification on the banks of the Delimbyr River. Toward the edge, where the forest met the camp, a makeshift market had sprung to life. Caravans and rough stalls lined the path, and the air was thick with the smell of food, sweat, and war. Soldiers and civilians alike milled about, haggling over supplies, and stealing a brief moment of normalcy.
As the party made their way deeper into the market, a sudden commotion broke the hum of the crowd. A cloaked figure darted between stalls, weaving through the mass of bodies. In a flash, the figure collided with Romark, sending both sprawling to the ground. As the stranger rose, their hood slipped back, revealing a half-elf with striking blue hair. Her eyes widened in recognition as she glanced over the party. “Mark of Lathander… halfling, gnome, dwarf—I know you! I have information. Follow me!” she hissed before slipping back into the crowd.
Without hesitation, the AV Club sprang into action, the sounds of angry pursuers closing in behind them. They followed the half-elf through the maze of market stalls, finally ducking into an abandoned corner. Hidden from sight, the half-elf introduced herself as Sayah. She quickly explained that she was from Waterdeep and had uncovered something dangerous—a set of documents that hinted at a powerful item, something Karsus was trying to create that could turn the tide of the war. She’d stolen them just before the army’s arrival, but now the pursuers were hot on her trail.
As she spoke, the shouts of her hunters grew louder, their search growing more frantic. Thinking fast, Merla cast a minor illusion, creating the sound of a crash nearby. The ruse worked, distracting the pursuers momentarily. But just as the group prepared to escape, Romark tripped on a rope, pulling down an entire stall canopy with a loud thud. In the same instant, the pursuers realized they had been tricked. The chase was on again.
Romark scrambled to his feet, only to find himself face-to-face with a hulking half-orc. He bolted, with the half-orc giving chase. Sayah vanished into the shadows, while Tyr braced for a fight. Romark, desperate, uncorked what he thought was an invisibility potion, only to gulp down nothing but water. The five pursuers—three half-orcs and two humans—soon caught up to the group. The largest half-orc demanded to know where the blue-haired half-elf had gone. Thinking quickly, Romark pointed to a random direction. “Over there,” he said, and miraculously, the pursuers took off, except for the leader, who lingered suspiciously.
“What happened at the stall? Why did you run?” the half-orc demanded.
“I tripped,” Romark replied flatly, and after a tense moment, the leader let it go.
Now that the danger had passed, the party took a moment to catch their breath. Sayah, reappearing from the shadows, convinced them to help her retrieve the powerful artifact before it fell into the wrong hands. She snuck off once more, returning with a handful of stolen military uniforms. Unfortunately, the clothes were ill-fitting for most of the group. Wisp summoned an unseen servant, allowing Merla to sit atop it and appear taller, though her pants still dragged on the ground. Tyr and Romark, preferring their armor, opted out of the disguise.
As they debated their next move, Merla spotted one of the earlier pursuers, who made eye contact with her but disappeared before she could act. Pressing on, the group reached the command post—a pair of wooden buildings surrounded by a palisade. The guards at the main gate refused them entry, so they circled around to the river’s edge, hoping for a quieter way in. Wisp convinced the guards on the tower there to let him fish near the wall, though the rest of the party had to stay back.
Not one to waste an opportunity, Merla attempted to read the mind of one of the guards, hoping to uncover valuable information. But the guard sensed her intrusion, and before she could retreat, alarm bells rang out across the camp. The entire encampment was now on high alert. Amid the chaos, Wisp managed to sneak inside the complex, but his luck soon ran out—he was captured and taken before the camp’s commander, General S.C.A.R.A. After a brief interrogation, Wisp was locked away.
As the camp bristled with tension, a new squadron arrived—figures clad in metal masks inscribed with glowing arcane runes. They spread out methodically, searching for magical items within the camp. Tyr’s dagger passed their scrutiny, but Romark’s talisman drew their attention. He too was apprehended and brought before General S.C.A.R.A. The general, unsatisfied with mere questions, probed Romark’s mind, uncovering everything that had happened to him in recent weeks. With a cold, impassive voice, the general ordered Romark to be imprisoned alongside Wisp, and for the rest of the AV Club to be hunted down.