The Chronicles of Icewind Dale

In an upside-down tower that Draknar had led them to, which in itself was a bit of a head-scratcher, Flynx Fleetfoot made an amusing discovery. In the remains of what used to be a well-stocked library, there lay three ancient books that even raiders couldn’t be bothered to take. Flynx took one. Flynx read one. Thoroughly. It revealed that the odd creature he, Aarki, and Draknar had tussled with a few days prior was known as a "Water Weird." The name alone sent Flynx into a fit of giggles. "Those Netherese scholars really knew how to name things," he thought, admiring their sense of humour. The book described the Water Weird as an elemental guardian bound to a specific water-filled location, like a pool or a fountain. "Maybe it should be called 'Water Attached' or 'Aqua Glued' or something." Flynx chuckled to himself, convinced of his unmatched wit. Just then, Draknar interrupted his mirth, needing help with a chest. Of course, in this bizar...

 Who is "Draknar" anyway? Draknar isn't really sure. A few moments ago, he was. Then... the Certainty disappeared. With it, the fuzzy good feelings in his chest. It feels like he has spent the last few days in a daze, on a high, as if he smoked too much of the halflings' pipe weed. Draknar did try that once, after capturing a frightened couple and their children. Though it certainly made their execution more weird, it dulled the pleasure of watching them squirm, and made his thinking inexact and paranoid. He ended up also executing the executioners. By the time that was done, his mind was clear again and he saw the folly of it. The Certainty was different. It felt much better. But Draknar does feel like he did when his mind came back, not so long ago. Which means that his mind was, at least partly, gone. He taps his forehead and mutters, "what is going on in there?" This wizard... he took, took, took and gave nothing. Flynx and Aarki seemed quite happy to he...

"Well that could have gone better" Aarki is fairly certain of this. He looks across at the Goblin and then at Flynx... and then back at the goblin. "Lets focus on the positives, rat man is still alive", Aarki's eyes narrow as the gears of his mind churn into motion - it takes the gears a while to get going as he rarely uses them to this extent - "the town still thinks we are heroes..." - Aarki nods to himself - "the cauldron will help to feed the people" - so far, so good -  "I killed my friend and we made an enemy of a big boss" - There it was... that was the part that could have gone better.  "Not so very long ago we had a good deal to that would have been great for everyone and I would have had a new friend, maybe even someone who understood me. But that Goblin, he thinks he is so clever and just acts without thinking at all. I guess it's because he's just a baby still, but that's no excuse! I never caused so man...

 "What is going on with me?" This is Draknar's question as he wanders into the snow, torn between a sense of deep certainty that this is where I need to go , an enduring desire to build an army and raze most of the ten towns, and a deep puzzlement at precisely how  he went about solving the Torga situation. Something doesn't add up! A Drow matriarch, who doubled up as a cleric of Lolth, that Draknar once worked with briefly before things soured with the Drow (all due to a misunderstanding after a Drow party was ambushed and someone didn't check the bodies carefully enough, so that one survived to report the deed back to the matriarch), once pointed out that when there is confusion, one must surrender to the Goddess and let her bring clarity, or darkness, as is appropriate. At the time, Draknar thought that advice was a load of spider excrement. He still thinks so. The only time a god-like being ever took interest in his life, it was to blow his mind and send him i...

Draknar knows what matters in a transaction: winning. Unfortunately, he has never been so good at haggling. It's the kind of stuff people do when they have no power, and Draknar has been used to having power. And when he didn't have power, he worked to seize it, not to haggle with those more powerful than him. Scheming? Sure, he's an expert. Ambushing the opponent and taking their stuff by force? Certainly, it was a common practice. Hanging them by their own intestines afterwards? Naturally, why wouldn't you? Violence is not yet an option in Easthaven. Scheming it is. The cauldron turned out to be less hopeful than Draknar had hoped. It cannot make infinite food. Only three large portions every day. That is still valuable, but not the shortcut to world domination that Draknar had envisaged. So be it. It is still worth good money. The negotiations with Torga went perhaps slightly less well than anticipated. Yet it is surprising that even she did not seem to be in a mind...