Session 6 - The Murder in Nyelath's Grace

The Arrest and the Council

The session opened where the last left off. The group had spent a few hours in isolation in Nyelath's Grace . The Pearlguard stormed the diplomatic quarters, tridents raised, demanding the party submit to manacles. Without resistance, the heroes were marched through the spiraling halls into the Council Chamber.

The chamber glowed with the light of lantern-jellies swaying in glass orbs, shadows curling across the coral walls. Five council seats curved above like a crescent — but one lay empty. Pale coral drained of color marked the absence of Priestess Arilshae , her hollow chair as heavy as the soldiers’ suspicion. Guards lined the walls, eyes hard, gazes fixed on the outsiders.

The Council demanded answers. Shellsinger Nyrae pressed for explanations, while Nimrath Oceanforge seized on the timing of the party’s arrival, framing it as too convenient. The debate turned tense until Shyk , priest of the Watchers at Dusk, spoke in the group’s defense, emphasizing their alibi under armed guard. Lady Cassandra Vexmoor , invoking her family’s struggle against the sahuagin siege, argued that aiding the murder would only weaken Leilon further.

What followed was political maneuvering. Nimrath demanded the group swear an Oath of Binding. Cassandra agreed as Vexmoor representative, but Hunter 's sharp retort cut through the chamber — that binding them was a waste of time when every moment delayed the investigation. His conviction carried. The Council relented.

Two escorts were assigned: Thalorae Nemeris, the diplomat who had first received them, and Veylan Tidecaller , Nimrath’s lieutenant, chosen to keep Pearlguard eyes on every step.

The Sanctum of Arilshae

The investigation began at the scene of the crime. Arilshae’s sanctum opened like a hollow pearl at the spire’s heart, coral veins glowing with faint bioluminescence, silver sigils rippling with reflected light. The water was dense, reverent, as though the sea itself held its breath.

At the center, Arilshae’s body drifted upon a dais of shellstone, robes of kelp-silk fanned around her, hair spreading in a pale halo. Blood trailed from the wound at her back, refusing to disperse, clinging to her in mourning.

The party uncovered several clues:

• A memory pearl, echoing a lullaby sung to a child, speaking of “blood of two worlds, child of tide and sky.”
• Poorly etched Sahuagin runes, apparently devoted to the Great Blowfish, though Shyk identified them as a failed attempt to mimic a dedication to Sekolah, god of the great sharks — written in costly magical ink.
• Blood traces Hunter picked up on the currents.
• Veylan’s half-elf heritage raised questions, but his age and family disproved direct ties.

The group learned that the mythal should have shielded Arilshae. With answers elusive, they turned to its master.

The Heart of the Mythal

The path led them into the operations ring where Deepwarden Sythar Alcarin oversaw the lattice. A chamber of glassy coral shimmered with mirrors and angled crystals, glyphs pulsing like equations solving themselves. Through translucent reef, the party glimpsed the mythal’s heart: a radiant node pulsing like the beat of a leviathan.

Sythar’s blunt manner quickly drew tension. Veylan accused him of negligence or complicity. In a flash, Sythar nearly unleashed disintegration — restrained only when Cassandra intervened. The confrontation revealed both his insecurities and the volatility beneath the council’s surface.

Through their questions, the party pieced together the mythal’s rules:

• It creates an airlike state within the capital, allowing work as though on dry land.
• No offensive magic can be cast upon a councilor by an equal, but those of lesser standing are not protected.
• Blood is not shielded from blood — a loophole that would allow kin to strike kin.
• Only Arilshae and Sythar held the authority to disable the lattice, with apprentice logs recording any attempt.

The reserves were at half capacity — sufficient for now, but dwindling. Sythar confessed that sustaining the mythal demanded either costly feystones or draining the mages themselves, a long-term crisis masked by immediate suspicion.

The Council Archives

Next, the party descended to the archives, a labyrinth of coral shelves and memory pearls stretching into shadow. Lantern-barnacles glowed faintly, while pearls thrummed with whispers like a thousand voices pressed into silence. The water tasted of resin and salt, heavy with centuries of recorded history.

Here, they uncovered patterns:

• Arilshae had stepped down for two years, centuries earlier.
• Council meetings were obsessively logged, though motives were never recorded.
• A heated argument between Raelunai Zsvael and Arilshae just days before her death.
• Records altered by Shellsinger Nyrae for the sake of “harmony.”
• Another memory pearl in Arilshae’s collection, repeating her private lullaby.

Cross-checking ages, the group realized that all council members were far too young for a blood loophole — except Nimrath, an orphan adopted 295 years ago (of unknown age), his parentage unknown, and Nyrae, who was born 300 years ago in Myth Nantar (the same city Arilshae is from). Also, it isn't exactly spelled out that Nimrath is the same orphan adopted 295 years ago, for some reason there is no name attached, he's simply described as a child adopted by the city.

The False Arrest

Returning to the capital, the Council announced they had caught the killer: Shaelira, a half-sahuagin outcast, paraded in chains with an amulet to Sekolah. She spat curses, proclaiming she would gladly kill them all but denying Arilshae’s murder.

The accusations rested on falsified evidence, runes, and prejudice. Cassandra denounced the racism outright, and Shyk confirmed the sahuagin script was clumsy forgery. Though dragged to the Deepvaults, Shaelira’s guilt rang hollow. The heroes’ defense left the council uneasy but unyielding — pressing the need for a swift resolution.

The Kelp Gardens

The investigation turned next to Raelunai. The gardens stretched in cathedral-like forests of swaying fronds, shafts of green light piercing down as dolphins and octopi tended the stalks with practiced care. Resinous ink drifted in clouds, staining the water with the tang of labor and spellcraft.

Raelunai was evasive, briefly lying about their quarrel with Arilshae before confessing they feared how guilt would appear. They painted a grim picture: gardens and coral failing, the city struggling to sustain itself, and a desperate need for trade with the surface.

An apprentice, Selura, whispered suspicion — that Raelunai had been seen washing away expensive inks. Shyk seized on it, convinced of guilt. Yet a dolphin’s translated chatter revealed it was clumsiness, not conspiracy, ink spilled in error. Suspicion lingers, but Raelunai’s guilt seems unlikely.

Meanwhile, the group split: part investigating the council records, part questioning in the gardens. Together, they unearthed the council’s true ages and narrowed the circle of possibility.

Session End

The session closed with the party regrouping, clues in hand, suspicions mounting. Shaelira languished in the Deepvaults, Raelunai under scrutiny, Nimrath’s origins unresolved, and the mythal’s failing reserves looming over all. The investigation pressed forward, each step weighted by the threat of Leilon 's fall if the truth was not found.