These events take place before Rise of the Obsidian Legion.
Amon stands there in disbelief, focused on his hands, not sure what to think. Henry and Charlotte are just as stunned, if not more that of the prince himself.
The only one amused is Lithia Muun, a spellcaster herself. She lays her hand on his shoulder, her smile growing wider, and reassures him that it is alright. You can hear the excitement in her voice. It seems there is much more Amarth than what I assumed.
He questions her about the fire, what was it? How did it happen?
The only answer she can give is that she is unsure but in time it will reveal itself, that magic can be as unpredictable as the weather. In the end it is enough to calm Amon down so we can focus on the task at hand.
As the heroes begin investigating the area I take watch. With an ambush like we just experience, there is sure to be more foes. The goblins I can handle but if two of these giant men appear we might be in some trouble. One was a problem on its own.
Even more reason to stay sharp in this unfamiliar area.
A short, ear piercing screeching breaks my focus, quickly turning me on my heels. This was the sound Sheriff Lothric told the heroes about and they had found the answer. Inside the back of the cave sets a heavy, metal door. Seeing they cannot get it open themselves I move over to assist. The sounds is unbearable. I could easily see where travelers would be frightened by it in the dead of night.
Inside is a tomb. Knowing what I have seen underneath the streets of Waterdeep I dare not go inside. Amon, dumb but brave as always, steps right in. The others follow in his footsteps. I decided that it is a good idea to stay just outside the doorway.
After a few minutes of searching around, curiosity gets the best of the prince, he decides to open the lone casket. Just as he does the spirit of an elderly man in a suit of fine armor appears. To continue the night of curious events, the ghost greets us.
I am not sure if I should run or listen. Never in my life have I encounter something of this nature. All of the tales I have heard end with frightening results. But with the way he speaks to Amon, the way he speaks to us, I push the fear down. We listen as he attempts to remember his time as a noble warrior.
Then the undead locks gazes with us, telling Amon that he can read us, whatever that may mean, except for Balasar. Does this prove he is evil? Is this the spirit’s way of informing us that we should not trust him? I have been right all along?
As the spirit has Amarth go through the casket it lets out a shout of anger that I swear shook the entire tomb. The rage clearly shows on his transparent features. Then it is as if he remembers something important. He describes someone wearing heavy dark robes accompanied by two men that were bandaged, a human and dwarf. These people had took his gem from his sword. They sound like three men I know.
Novak. Varix. Maddox.
It seems those two still live. Damnit. Now The Restless Hand surely knows that I am alive.
Then it hits me. My paranoia runs high. They were here before us and Lothric had to know. That is why the sheriff sent us here, to keep us away from Red Larch while they move forward with their plans. And here is Balasar, the bastard dragonborn that cannot be read by this old warrior spirit.
Amon promises the spirit that he will return the stone to his tomb. As they leave I watch the spirit, closing the door behind everyone. I wait for them to all exit the cave mouth before I draw my cutlass.
I need the truth.
I want answers.
The time is now.