The Corpse, The Cart, and The Rain

📜 Session Chronicle: "The Corpse, The Cart, and The Rain" Entry Date: Rainfall’s Edge, Early Evening – Trollskull Manor Chapter Title: The Meat Wagon Rolls The fire was warm. The drinks were good. The mood? Leisurely, bordering on celebratory—despite Kildrak’s absence on some mysterious temple penance that smelled strongly of incense and ego.But peace doesn’t last long for this band of trouble-magnets. The door to Trollskull Manor groaned open, and in stumbled Yagra Stonefist, bleeding and half-limping, cradling her left arm like it owed her money. She dropped a rolled rug onto the floor with a thud—the unmistakable sound of dead weight—and muttered words no one wants to hear from an old friend: “I need a favor.”Inside the rug? A man named Karn, looking for all the world like a corpse—but Yagra assured them he was simply temporarily dead, courtesy of a potent Zhentarian elixir. She needed him delivered—discreetly, swiftly, and without questions—to the Drunken Spider in the Dock Ward. Why? Let’s just say Xanathar agents were involved and leave it at that. After some quick triage and a round of “what the hells are we doing?” glances, the crew sprang into action. Elros, always practical, cast Pass Without Trace. Pomeh packed his teleporting dagger. Faellus likely made a dramatic speech. And Henk? Henk did what Henk does—grunted, grabbed the cart, and started hauling the Meat Wagon into the rain. Their journey south was quiet… at first. The streets were slick. The alleyways narrow. Somewhere in the cart, Karn twitched. Then whispered, not aloud, but into Elros’s mind: “They see through mirrors. One eye, many minds.”Yeah. Comforting. A pair of lazy city watchmen barely looked up as the party passed. But an old blind seer—Old Mira—sniffed them out with uncanny precision. “I smell death on you,” she cried, louder each time. Faellus’s charm spell fizzled, and the Watch began to notice. Thinking fast, Elros tossed a silver coin, and Mira turned her attention—perhaps her second sight—toward the guards. They pestered her instead, buying the group just enough breathing room to escape.But Butcher’s Alley isn’t known for its mercy. As they turned the next corner—twang! An arrow zipped past Pomeh’s ear. The second one didn’t miss. Two Xanathar scouts—perched on a rooftop, bows drawn—had been waiting. Trained eyes, branded faces, and the glint of intent to kill. The group exploded into action: Faellus soared into the air, wings (or flair) catching the stormlight as he struck at one from above.Elros returned fire with calm precision, arrows whispering death back toward the rooftops.Henk, undeterred, kept pushing the cart, body shielding Karn from further damage. Duty over danger.And that’s where we paused: Rain falling. Cart rolling. Steel flying. The mission is halfway done, and the corpses—well—might just be about to multiply.✒️ Summary for the Diary: Kildrak absent (still mid-rite)Yagra injured, asks party to deliver a not-quite-dead KarnGroup uses cart, stealth magic, and clever misdirection to begin journeyElros receives cryptic psychic message from KarnOld Mira the Seer nearly outs them to city guardsRooftop ambush in Butcher’s Alley begins with Pomeh taking an arrowFaellus in the air, Elros in the alley, Henk on the move