The elf takes a deep breath.
"I need you to tell me what happened today. There are dangers in the Mierani but demons have never been one of them. Crying Leaf has been warded from their kind since the very beginning by some of our most powerful mages."
"I doubt my people will be so rational. The Sting demands vengeance when blood is spilled. When they learned the demons were Gisiel's doing, even if he had the best intentions, they will demand his exile. He will become forlorn."
She rolls her eyes as she replaces the blade on her long tail. "If they truly need a scapegoat, tell them the lizardman did it. I will be long gone by the time they must know."
She pauses as she puts Xiddik's suggestion together.
"Are you sure? You would willingly sacrifice all the good will you've built here?"
"Thank you again Xiddik. You may have saved Crying Leaf twice in one day. If you'll excuse me, I'm needed at the temple."
***
In the days to come, Crying Leaf becomes abuzz with activity as life continues as it did before in addition to many seeing to the village's repairs. At some point, word of Xiddik's implication in the tragedy gets out and her neighbors no longer greet her with an increasingly warm disposition and some straight up avoid making eye contact. Even the hatchlngs no longer wish to cavort with the kobold - all but a certain boy wearing a crown of twigs shaped like horns on his head but even he's dragged away by his friends after a time.
Roughly ten days pass without any further news of the mission until an young elf finds Xiddik in her guest quarters and delivers a note with disdain. It's from Eviana.
It's time. Come to my hall.
Eviana's features harden but her eyes are heavy with sadness. "A terrible accident", she explains. "But that's only part of why I have asked you here."
"When you were last here your bravery and strength allowed us to retake our ancestral home from the dark elves. You proved the Shin' Rakorath, wrong that day - that the elven people are not stronger for standing apart from the outside world. I would ask you to prove it again."
Eviana unfurls a map of Celwynvian and points toward a familiar building - the Academy. "Inside this building was an artifact sacred to my people called an Elf Gate. In ancient times they linked our holdings across Golarion. During the Age of Darkness many were disabled. Others were lost. The dark elves found a way to repurpose this one in a way that allowed them to transport troops and materials into Celwynvian from someplace else. I believe we should take advantage of such an opportunity to strike back by using this route to infiltrate wherever they are organizing from and learn their plans."
"Another Echo?" asks Fíriel, standing up in her chair to lean over the table and study the map thoughtfully. Prickles wriggles and spills out of her pocket, sniffing the map for any tasty crumbs.
"An Echo perhaps, or something worse", Eviana explains with another frown. "We have no way of knowing without sending someone in. Our best mages have uncovered little of use through divination. This is a trek that will have to performed on foot."
"And that's why I've summoned you. You are the strongest and most capable heroes I have ever met - stronger than even Crying Leaf's champions I must admit. If anyone could enter this corrupted Elf Gate, infiltrate whatever staging grounds the dark elves have set up on the other side, and escape with the information learned, it would be you. I'm loathe to drag you even further into our struggle but I fear I have little choice."
Fíriel contemplates the map for a few moments in silence, then sits down and nods slowly. "That makes sense. The Echo we were in... wasn't big enough. It wasn't set up as a massive staging area, just some kind of... testing area, or something. And there was the other portal in there, in the room with the uh... slime-monster, aboleth thing." She pauses to think everything over.
Prickles gives a noncommittal grunt and follows the scent-trail on the map over to the sweetbread crumbs, paying no attention to the conversation.
Njord chuckles at Prickle's quest for snacks until he gets sucked into studying the map as well.
"We're the best drow-fightin' team you'll find around", the big ulfen says. "But even if we get in there, kill a bunch, and find out what they're up to, how're we gunna get back? I don't imagine they're gunna let us back through your Elf Gate. They might even smash the thing if that's what it takes."
"I'd imagine that there'll be a team behind us to secure it from inside, no?" asks Fíriel.
"I'm afraid not. Retaking Celwynvian is our highest priority right now. Positioning a team strong and skilled enough to hold the gate on the other side against a potential army of dark elves isn't possible. This task will require you to be virtually unseen."
She retrieves a second map and unfurls it on top of the first (burying Prickles). This one looks nothing like a traditional map instead displaying what looks like layers.
"We believe the dark elf staging grounds is somewhere deep underground in a region known as the Darklands. It's a fearsome and deadly place where all sorts of nightmares are born but also some unlikely allies. I'm certain you have the capability to survive down there but you would never find your way out without an expert guide."
"It's for that reason that Kaerishiel has helped me procure the aid of one of the best Darklands guides he's ever seen. Please don't let her appearance color your opinion of her, I assure you she has a noble heart..."
A thin, black-scaled reptilian enters the hall. Its large, green eyes are sunken into its skull, and two pairs of sharp-looking horns are mounted atop its head. It wears a finely-crafted green silk dress, and a silver flute is strapped to its belt.
The kobold comes to a stop before the group, looking them over warily. "Good day."
It has a voice like a 12-year old girl.
Seated with Eviana are five outsiders. They bear a striking resemblance to the description given of the outsiders that helped retake Celwynvian.
While they may speak loudly of divine right and manifest destiny, kobolds are keenly aware of their own weakness. Cowards and schemers, they never fight fair if they can help it, instead setting up ambushes and double-crosses, holing up in their warrens behind countless crude but ingenious traps, or rolling over the enemy in vast, yipping hordes.
Kobold coloration varies even among siblings from the same egg clutch, ranging through the colors of the chromatic dragons, with red being the most common but white, green, blue, and black kobolds not unheard of.
Eviana nods in greeting to the newcomer. "This is Xiddik. Please, take a seat."
Poking his head up from beneath the second of two maps laid across the long table is some kind of adorable spiky critter.
Xiddik walks over and climbs into a chair.
"A giant, an elf, man with fire hair and reimokur*." She frowns. "These are the outsiders who saved Celwynvian?"
Fíriel raises an eyebrow and gestures to the other halfling seated next to her.
"Hello, Xiddik," she says slowly, as if weighing her words carefully, "I'm Fíriel."
The giant is some kind of paragon of mammal-kind, large, brawny, hairy, and loud. He's clad in a suit of form-fitting mithril mail (about as shiny as what the silly elves wear) that does little to hide his muscular physique and carries a dark blue-blade sword at his hip. His voice has a strangely animal-growl to it but he seems to smile a great deal.
"Har! That's us!" he roars. "The name's Njord", the giant offers in introduction along with an enormous meaty paw.
Xiddik eyes the massive hand, seeing how it dwarfs her own. She's familiar with the hand-shaking custom, but she's wary of getting her dainty claw crushed.
Reluctantly, she reaches out and grasps two of Njord's fingers. "Drow spoke grimly of your band as they limped back home."
Njord laughs at the finger-grip but counters by grasping with his other hand and shaking vigorously.
"Good. Serves 'em right! Those bastards were makin' a mess in Riddleport. I still blame 'em for turning Saul against us", the huge man says a bit bitterly. "You kill lotsa drow too?"
"Hm." For the first time, Xiddik shows emotion, giving a sadistic, sharp-toothed grin. "The only things I hate more than the drow I have slain are the drow I have not slain yet."
The kobold's more sinister qualities go unnoticed, or perhaps ignored, by the huge man. "Har! I like him already!"
Asht'el's black eyes widen in surprise as a lizard in a dress enters the room - at Lady Eviana's invitation, no less - and then speaks. "I am no man," he says reflexively in response to the creature's words, "or at least not only a man. The blood of efreeti runs in my veins."
He scrutinizes this 'Xiddik' a moment, nodding in agreement with his (her?) statement about a dead drow being of greater value than a live one. Then, Asht'el can't help but ask, "If you don't mind my asking, what are you? I am an ifrit, though I did not realize it for many years. It seems you have not seen my kind before, and I don't believe I've seen yours."
"Lady Eviana, you know we only want the best for your people. You would hold back on us? I know old habits are hard to break, but please, tell us what happened."
At the appearance of the guide, Randall's eyebrows go up, but he nods in greeting. His surprise at the creature's dainty voice is obvious.
The male halfling is wearing a finely-crafted breastplate with an odd tint that doesn't quite stay the same when you state at it. A human dagger, based on the design, hangs at his hip and a cloak of many muted shades is thrown back from his shoulders.
Remembering his manners, Randall moves over to the kobold and extends a hand, "Well met, Ziddick. I'm Randall."
Eviana sighs and then nods in agreement with Randall. ”We have come too far together for me to be withholding information. You deserve better.”
”During the planning stages of this operation Crying Leaf’s ancient defense were compromised and demons allowed entrance. Too many lives were lost and more injured. Demons are cruel and tenacious opponents but our defenders fought valiantly and secured the city. Xiddik was among them”, the radiant says with a nod at the kobold and a knowing glance.
The kobold's more sinister qualities go unnoticed, or perhaps ignored, by the huge man. "Har! I like him already!"
Xiddik's smile remains, though it looks false and habitual. "Her. I am a her."
Her metal barb taps the floor rapidly.
"If you don't mind my asking, what are you? I am an ifrit, though I did not realize it for many years. It seems you have not seen my kind before, and I don't believe I've seen yours."
"Not-man, I am a kobold. Do not expect a creature of fire would spend much time in the dark, and we are from far below."
Xiddik shakes Randall's hand politely.
Njord cocks an eyebrow. ”Har! Sorry ‘bout that. You’re the first lizard per- kobold I’ve ever met.”
Eviana nods. ”Xiddik has also been working closely with Gisiel, one of our most talented mages, on a way for the six of you to achieve deep infiltration, for an extended period of time, without risk of being noticed. Xiddik, would you mind explaining Gisiel’s spell? I’m afraid I haven’t been keeping abreast of his research.”
"Melds you with a drow's flesh." Xiddik rubs her arm. "Makes you an actual drow, sort of, so magic cannot spot it."
Thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he stares into space, "So... Firiel and I would have to grow to match the size - unless there are halfling-sized drow. How long does this spell last? Would we be able to refresh it if necessary? Can it be removed, perhaps accidentally, before we are ready? We would be able to see like drow when there is no light?"
He seems more intrigued than concerned.
"Does not seem to be a spell—not one that 'lasts' or need be 'refreshed'. Seems to stay as long as need be. You would gain all mundane features of drow. As for size, I do not know."
Eviana seems alarmed. "That is... disturbing."
"Welcome to the Darklands." Xiddik sounds disdainful. "Is a place where every life is lived at another life's expense. Warping of flesh is the least of our worries."
"If it's necessary, then it's necessary," observes Fíriel slowly. "When do we leave, Eviana?"
Still a bit disturbed by knowledge of Gisiel’s disguises, Eviana nods.
”Whenever you’re ready. You should meet with Gisiel as soon as possible to find out if he has anything he needs from you in order to enact his spell.”
Xiddik notices the halflings' spastic hand gestures. Their kind certainly does gesticulate a lot. Perhaps it's some sort of disability.
Fíriel nods. "Is there anything else we should know?"