Chapter 3 - The Missing Delegation

Overhead, you see what looks to be a tiny creature riding on a vulture, or as depth perception make sense, a humanoid knight riding a giant vulture.

From the base of the spire, an armored knight similarly dressed as the rider above, steps out a door across from the bridge and waves at you, beckoning. He wears scale mail with a long sword at his hip, a crossbow in hand. His gear has long flaps that look flappy.

Well met, sir knight! Dazzle says warmly as he approaches. Are you willing to accommodate visitors to your mighty fortress? Otherwise we'll continue on our journey without inconveniencing you in any way. Dazzle can't help buy eye the tower for any archers or wizards with the intent of raining painful death upon him from above.

A gap of twenty feet separates the ledge where the path ends from the closed drawbridge on Feathergale Spire. The space between the cliff’s edge and the gatehouse drops several hundred feet to the bottom of the canyon. Near the ledge, a brass bell hangs from a wooden post.

The drawbridge is down, and the knight, a human female, asks, "Welcome, good people. What brings you here?"

Balak, gripping his hammer to lower it, and relaxing his shoulders, replies: Well met, Lady Knight! We have been investigating the area, searching for some people of high esteem. May we speak with your leader to discuss the situation in greater depth?

She introduced herself as Savra Belabranta, and escorts the characters through the spire and up to the pinnacle.

The second floor contains a great hall which spans half the diameter of the tower. Between the overlarge windows, tapestries depict scenes of gallant knights on flying hippogriffs, fighting dragons and jousting with one another among the clouds. High on the walls are the mounted heads of griffons, wyverns, owlbears, and manticores. A long, curved table set for a feast stretches between the hall’s twin hearths. Two Feathergale knights are found here, and eye you with blank stares as you continue up the stairs.

The third level contains doors, closed to you.

At the pinnacle, Thurl Merosska surveys the territory.

The commander of the Feathergale Knights is a well-built male human in his early fifties. Embossed feather patterns ornament the plates of his armor, and his kingly cloak boasts a feathered mantle. He smooths his white-blond hair into place, then bows low before you as if he were only a lowly courtier.
"Welcome to Feathergale Spire, retreat of the Feathergale Society. I am Thurl Merosska, the lord commander."

"The name's Xella! Good to meet you, Thurl." Xella shakes the lord commander's hand.

Balak puts the head of his hammer against his chest and says, We are indeed honored that you would be so willing to speak with us. I am Balak Amalekhein of the stoutfolk. We are investigating some misfortune that befell some honorable men, hoping to lend our assistance. May I present Sir Dazzle, the well-spoken.

Balak then steps back and away from Dazzle to allow him to use his talents to (hopefully) persuade this man to help us.

Dazzle immediately warms to Savra, and gives her his full attention as they mount the spire. He hangs on her every word, and clasps her hand in both of his as he thanks her profusely for her hospitality. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to speak with you again, he vows, meeting her gaze with his own.

As they passed the great hall, Dazzle took a moment to admire the tapestries and mounted beast heads, as well as the view.

At the peak of the tower, Dazzle approached to shake the hand of Lord Commander Thurl Merosska. It is truly an honour to be met with such benevolence by none other than The Lord Commander Thurl Merosska, Of Legend. And to enter the very Feathergale Spire! To breathe the same air as the mythical Feathergale Knights! Tales of your valour and generosity have reached my ears from as far away as Waterdeep. We truly have been favoured by the gods this day, to stumble upon such a noble house as this during our journey.

My entourage, he gestured with a dismissive wave towards the others, is unaccustomed to the unforgiving climate of the Sumber Hills and needs to recuperate before we can continue. Would you be so merciful as to allow us a brief respite, and then we will take our leave, without causing you any bother. We would be grateful for a single stall to share in the stables and a bucket of water, there is no need to trouble your noble retinue with anything more for us humble commoners.

Thurl answers any questions you have, and is happy to discuss his group, the Feathergale Society, an "elite" group of aerial-mount enthusiasts from Waterdeep. These knights affect a dashing image and are given to drinking, singing, wearing fashionable clothing, and general revelry.

He talks avidly of "doing one’s duty for the realm", of the noble pursuits of hunting and hawking, and of his great passion for hippogriffs, giant vultures, and other aerial mounts.

When the conversation moves to the local area and the disturbances, Thurl’s face darkens. "Great evil lurks among these hills," he says. "Depraved cultists led by wretched monsters. But let us speak of such matters after the feast has warmed our blood."

Thurl allows the characters to rest in the tower (providing a room rather than a stable stall) until it is time to begin the feast.

As usual, Sorgrimm is skeptical of these new folk. He didn't think much of the Feathergale Society and their fancy wardrobes.

Seems like a bunch of Adventurer wannabees and pretenders if you ask me. Sorgrimm comments later when the group is alone in the tower.

Perhaps, yes. But, most pretenders tend to have a kernel of truth at the core. They could at least identify areas where these "great evils" are. While they are content to stay to the skies, we can take to ground and root out the true monstrosities the land hides. Felicia says, having spent much of the interaction with Thurl quietly observing the man.

Further, so long as we continue to play the part of fawning admirants to their pompous behavior, we may be able to count on warm beds and secure walls to make our rests here when the situation permits. It would be foolish to chafe them and lose that.

And, maybe they will let me try to fly! I’m very interested in giving it a go! Bit of an adrenaline junky here!

Balak grins very big as he contemplates the prospect of flying for the first time.

That evening, Savra Belabranta knocks quietly (politely) in your door. When it is opened, she says, "The feast is nearly ready. Would you accompany me to the great hall? We passed it earlier on the stairs up, the second level?"

She is obviously curious about you, but doesn't ask anything personal of you.

Many thanks Savra! What all is served at a feast like this? Felicia says, truly curious.

Savra smiles. "The initiates have been preparing a boar stew... The taking of the boar is a story you may hear at the table tonight. It pairs well with a northern bread we purchased from the Uthgardt. The initiates also favor an... unfortunate... vegetable concoction that is best approached with caution. There will be a savory desert, as well, a meat pie of some variety. And Waterdhavian wine in sufficient quantities to overcome any dietary objections you might have." She chuckles at her own jokes.

Seeing you're ready, or at least out of questions, Savra leads you up the stairs to the Great Hall. You see four knights at the table, five when Savra joins them (after indicating you take the empty seats).

Clad in the finest garments of velvet brocade, the knights feast at a curved table in the great hall, where twin hearths blaze. Thurl Merosska sits at the head of the table. "Honored guests," he says. "Tell us of your adventures in the Sumber Hills. Let us aid you in any way we can."

We are on the search for a missing delegation fro the city of Mirabar. The dwarf grumbles impatiently. We fear we may have found some of them buried in an unmarked grave not far from here. We were hoping you had some information that may shed some light on the subject. Sorgrimm stares Thurl Merosska down waiting for an answer.

Thurl frowns slightly but sips his wine before replying, "It is our tradition to speak of bravery and deeds during the meal. Afterwards, warmed by wine and with hearts uplifted, we can turn to such dark thoughts. Please regale us of your adventures, of fierce foes vanquished, or sturdy hearts perservering."

Balak reaches back against his chair to grab his warhammer.

I smashed a guy's head with this thing like a melon, but (as his pride deflates) it didn't pop like one.

Oh! But I did beat the shit out of a half-ogre, and I kept his giant battlaxe!

Balak will rush to the room in order to get it so he can run back and show off his huge weapon. He really wants the knights to like him so that they will offer to let him fly on something.