SATURDAY, MARCH 14TH - MASTER AND APPRENTICE CAMPAIGN 1 : SESSION 8 RECAP ; PART 2
The mead hall in Goodmead was loud, warm, and just self-congratulatory enough to make me miss the quiet dignity of being nearly killed on the way here. One of Cullen’s admirers had taken it upon themselves to start singing—again. Apparently, this was normal. A full room of people raising mugs to a man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Cullen, Lightbringer, hero of the Dale… and deeply, profoundly uncomfortable about it. I almost liked him for that.
We drank, we listened, we endured. Then we did what we do best—made a plan we had no intention of keeping. Sleep, leave in the morning, head north to look for the heir.
Morning came. And of course, our plan didn’t.
Cade noticed something—the pendant wasn’t pointing north anymore. It had shifted west. Subtle, but definitely not the same bearing it was. Not long after, we saw Cullen again near an alchemist’s shop, picking something up for his mother like a perfectly normal person who definitely isn’t tied to ancient legacies and inconvenient destinies. Cade noticed the necklace heating up while Cullen was inside—enough to be uncomfortable. The moment he stepped out, it cooled. That was all we needed. The trail hadn’t gone cold. It had settled in. Right here, in Goodmead. Convenient. Irritating. Predictable, in the way our lives have been since Odds & Ends stopped being a shop and started being a pile of rubble.
So we split up. Because of course we did.
I took up a spot on the corner of the “today across from Cullen’s family home. Before long, he met with his companions and headed back toward the mead hall. That left Ukalis and Cade to do what they do best—ignore social boundaries and investigate other people’s homes. With a bit of magic and a healthy disregard for privacy, Ukalis confirmed it: something hidden, something trapped. Under a rug in the center of the house—because subtlety is a dying art—they found a concealed hatch, nearly seamless with the floor. It took effort to pry it open, but eventually the wood gave way and revealed a stone staircase descending into darkness. Always comforting.
The room below wasn’t what you’d expect if you were hoping for something simple, like a villain. It was a shrine. Personal. Quiet. Full of memory instead of menace. Artifacts, keepsakes, symbols of Cullen’s past—pieces of Icewind Dale, fragments of the Lightbringer Party crusade, tokens of allies who were either gone or smart enough to leave. Nothing that screamed enemy. Nothing that proved innocence, either. Just enough to confirm what we already suspected: Cullen wasn’t just some local hero. He was connected to something older. Something bigger. Something that, knowing our luck, would eventually try to kill us.
We regrouped at the mead hall, because all bad decisions seem to circle back there. Drinks in hand, patience running thin, we waited. Cullen began to leave with his companions, and Ukalis—never one to let tension breathe—decided to force the issue. He asked about Cullen’s family. Direct. Blunt. About as subtle as Cade in a doorway.
It went poorly.
Weapons were drawn before the question had time to settle. Cullen reacted fast—faster than Ukalis expected—casting a spell at Ukalis meant to remove him from the conversation entirely. Permanently (I’m told Ukalis felt as though Cullen was exiling him to another plane…how quaint). Ukalis resisted, which I’m sure he’ll be humble about later, and immediately tried to talk his way out of the mess he’d just created. Loudly. Desperately. Effectively, somehow.
That was our cue.
Cade and I stepped in, and for once, we didn’t bother with theatrics. We showed Cullen the necklace. Cade said it plainly: “We think this belongs to you.” No riddles. No half-truths. Just the kind of honesty that usually gets us into trouble.
This time, it got us answers.
We returned to Cullen’s house—invited, which was a refreshing change of pace. He and his mother listened as we laid everything out: the pendant, the trail, the Sons of Algondar, the part we’d been playing whether we liked it or not. The worst part wasn’t disbelief. It was recognition. They already knew. Not the details, maybe, but enough to understand what we were saying was true. They just hadn’t said it out loud yet. Can’t fault them for that. Some truths don’t get easier. They just wait.
I handed over the pendant. Job done. I’d made a promise—to find the heir. I found him. What he did next wasn’t my responsibility. Not my burden. Not my problem.
…That’s what I told myself, anyway.
Cullen had that look. The one I’ve seen before. On Cade, before Neverwinter. On Ukalis, before Odds & Ends burned down around us. The look of someone who knows exactly what the right choice is—and hates it.
The conversations with him and his folks that followed were quiet, tense, and just shy of breaking something important. By morning, the decision was made. Cullen would come with us. Not because we convinced him. Because he couldn’t ignore it. Neverwinter has a way of pulling people back, especially the ones it’s not finished with.
He and his companions (loyal, but very green) prepared quickly. By the next day, we were mounted on axebeaks and heading back across the Spine of the World. Back toward unfinished business, corrupt kings, and all the reasons we probably should’ve stayed in Goodmead and taken up honest work. I’ll admit, though—watching Cullen’s floating orb drift at his side, steady and bright—it felt like maybe, just maybe, we weren’t walking into this completely outmatched.
That feeling lasted right up until the ground exploded.
We were breaking camp when the frost shifted—subtle at first, then violent. Two massive shapes tore their way out of the frozen earth, towering over us in a storm of ice and bad decisions. Giants. Or something close enough that arguing about it wouldn’t help.
And that’s where we leave things. Again. Because apparently, nearly dying in the snow is becoming a theme.
Until next time, we’ll see you in the Maze.
