Dasur comments on the basket as they ride upwards. "Did they invent this concept themselves? Was it the alchemist? Or are these machines taken from other races? How does such an interconnected group show and deal with creativity, which by definition is against the grain of normalcy and requires independent thought?" He rambles in Dwarven, not really looking for a response.
The wizard's fascination continues as they reach the top of the wall, hmm'ing and nodding his head at the city scape before them. "Complete intergretion of architecture with the Xan... The Elves of the surface could only wish to be this close to their forests dwellings."
Considering the clear and precise control of his mental facilities, Dasur immediately notices the knowledge of the throne room had been entered into his brain- a foreign thought that was now his own. Believing that limited psyhic communication could be possible (though he has no experience in such matters), the wizard thinks forcefully. I am Dasur. Am I understood?
The massive fungal god distracts him from his psyhic experiments, and he looks up in wonder. He immediately casts Comprehend Languages, then leans on his staff and listens.
"I am called Dasur. We are Dwarfs, from the surface, looking for an ancestral home called Dammerhall below even the Xan. We seek knowledge from the Alchemist- a passage from Azathyr to Azathyrm that is not controlled by the Drow."
Dasur glances at Snorri. "I do not know if we will be staying long. Our ancient home calls us back, and the journey is still long."
Snorri gapes at the architectural marvels of the fungine people. "They are literally one with the city, at a level we can't even imagine. How would we feel if we were one with the Earth? One with Dammerhall?"
Deeply unnerved by the thoughts forming in his mid without his consent, he bows to the Alchemist. "And I am Snorri Tharnhammer, scion of the Kings of Dammerhall. As my couin said, our journey is leading us towards a mine the deep gnomes call Zaraketh, The River of Silver, deep into the Azathyrm. But as we have understood, the only way through, the Dragonmaw, is protected by the Dark Elves' fortress named Vothys, and we would avoid that if possible."
When the Alchemist speaks, he speaks with many mouths, sometimes echoing his words and sometimes interjecting. The eerie way the sound moves around the soft walled room is somewhat disturbing, "Snorri, alchemist of the not-duergar. Here in what you call The Jungle You seek around or through we Xan call and are Z'ggu-Xan-Zara. The Dragon's Maw around goes the Z'ggu-Xan-Zara and dwells there the dark elves. Another way, a dark way, goes through Z'ggu-Xan-Zara, through Z'ggu. Here in the center of the Jungle-Xan is a great water, and within is a land. In this land, where once dwelled peace-gnomes, there is a path below, through Z'ggu. Both ways are peril."
Staring around in awe Stop looking about like child and focus. but quickly trying to school her features. Though no amount of threats in her mind and stop the widening of her eyes at the site of the massive Alchemist. "I am Nalnera Tharnhammer and it is an honor to meet you."
Dasur does not find much use out of his spell, and the echoing, overlapping speech of the alchemist makes for difficult comprehension. Still, he is able to focus enough to pick out the meaning of the words, and it is not as they hoped. The Water will resist our progress, for while it and the Earth are amicable, the Earth has much to gain from our success. Both Water and Fire may seek to conspire with Air as we get closer to our goal.
Dasur draws in a breath and speaks."We are prepared to face any peril to recover our home, and will no doubt succeed. This was prophesied and must be. We have seen and clashed with the Zara, but what is the Z'ggu? An extension of the Xan-Zara that occupies a specific part of the Jungle-Xan? Will the Z'ggu allow our passage, or seek to consume us as the Zara tried?"
Trying to make sense of the words of the Alchemist, Snorri waits for it to answer Dasur, who looks like he understood more of the speech. Will they know what a map is? Perhaps he can be persuaded to lend us Miku as a guide...
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"Nal-neratharn-hammer is not all that you are not-duergar. Onesome else is withyouinyou."
"You cannot hear, not-duergar, maybe you can see maybe. BRING FORTH THE SEEING STEEP. For seeing you will know, Snorri, and then can you decide."
For a few words all of the Alchemist's mouths and focus issue a command. Almost immediately, a myceloid not so different from Miku appears from nearby. He carries a vessel that nearly strikes you dumb. It is a dwarven drinking horn, carved from the horn of a beast you do not recognize. But the fretwork is easy to recognize as coming from Dammerhall, patterns etched into horn and filled with mithril. The vessel is filled with a blood dark mushroom tea that is somehow both reeking and enticing.
"Your Majesty?" asks Glenda of Snorri, simultaneously questioning and volunteering.
"My duty, Glenda. But thanks." Ah, do I long for the day that title shall be proper. An artifact of Dammerhall here... is it an omen?
Snorri takes the drinking horn, taking a moment to appreciate the craftmanship before gulping down the beverage with a quick prayer to Torag.
Dasur glances at Nalnera, offering a translation in case she was hearing words different from what he was hearing. "The Alchemist can see, perhaps sense, the spirit of Regnir within you. I wish I knew how, but that is not the reason for our visit." He muses wistfully, knowing there is so much to learn from this fungal god but so little time.
Standing up straight at the sight of the Dammerhall artifact, Dasur whispers a cantrip and stares at the beautiful, ancient craftsmanship in search of a magical aura. "This is, without doubt, an omen, nay, a gift from the Stone. We have chosen the correct path."
Speaking in his usual drone, the wizard bares his concerns; "I would advise against personally imbibing the Seeing Steep Lord Snorri, for its effects on our physiology are completely unguessable. But it is your decision. Perhaps the fact it is your decision makes all the difference."
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As before, Dasur sees deep streams of magical energy coursing through this area. The Alchemist itself is a being of deep magic, somehow tied into the creatures around him, the ground, and beyond. The horn is an entirely different sort of magic. The magic of the horn is not the most powerful thing Dasur has seen. It has a bit of crafted magic, strengthening it and providing some lasting power. There may be something deeper below the surface, but Dasur would need to spend some time with it to decipher that.
The liquid within is some sort of magical infusion. It reeks of the same magic that permeates the area and The Alchemist.
Snorri drinks deeply of the Steep, finding himself falling facefirst into the loam floor of the chamber. As the earthy richness fills his mouth and nose, he has a momentary fear of suffocation before he realizes that he has no need to breath, or possibly that he is breathing through his skin. The sensation is difficult to interpret. He has the sense of falling through the loam and of somehow traveling through it or being through it. His mind is full of images and stories. A massive humanoid, towering over the trees around him, fights a winged horse and a flaming sword. The flaming sword is wielded by a bronze skinned woman, or perhaps the sword wields the woman. Another man, no, a dwarf, wields an ax made of dark faceted stone. The dwarf, the sword, and the winged horse strike at the massive giant, carving off great hunks of flesh. The wounds close quickly while the fallen flesh either becomes worms or grows worms that rise up to fight the dwarf as allies of the giant. Finally the giant falls, a great gaping wound opening underneath him. His flesh moulders and sprouts fungi. The fungi move. The gaping hole sinks and is closed off from above. The heart of the giant becomes a stone. The depression he made as he fell fills with water. The stone heart becomes an island. The island is covered with a gnomish city. The worms destroy the city. The heart island lies still.
Dasur stares at the drinking horn, intrigued by the multiple unique magical auras surrounding it. Crafted magic. A sliver of the creator's soul binds magical energies to this drinking horn. A technique the smiths of Dammerhall were once famous for, now a struggling art practiced by only our most ancient masters. The steep is a product of the Alchemist...seeing the horn and the steep interact without interfering with each other's function is a marvel. Typically, making two magical auras work in concert like this would be a dangerous or impossible task.
Knowing there is nothing else to learn from the drinking horn without being able to hold it, he ceases his protests and watches Snorri drink.
The wizard furrows his brow as Snorri suddenly falls face-first into the loam, and seems to... mesh... with it, slightly sinking into the fungal mass.
Dasur glances back to Glenda and Nalnera. "I feel it would be unwise to move him at this time. The magical liquor he imbued comes from the Alchemist itself. The drinking horn, certainly Dammercraft, is magical as well. An ancient magic often practiced by our ancestors. I suspect it simply fills the horn, prevents it from spilling, or some other mundane but highly useful function. Glenda, perhaps you could join Snorri in whatever he is "Seeing" if you partake as well?"
Sucking in a breath at the idea that others might know she is he vessel for a dead person. "Would you want him out with us?" Yes! You would have to behave!
Dont' you dare! "I can do it since Glenda is better and keeping an eye on the us."
Nalnera lifts the horn. She is only mildly surprised to see that the horn prevents its contents from spilling, but she is more surprised to find that it feels warm, as though it is alive. Even before she drinks, she hears whispers all around. It feels similar to the way that she hears Regnir, but less insistent. She lifts the heavy horn and drinks deep of the Steep, finding that it tastes rich and dark, almost like a stout.
She is filled with a deep warmth. The warmth of hearth fire, of home forge, of waking in a warm bed. She barely notices as her body falls to the floor, leaving whatever else she is standing on a stone path. Looking behind her, she sees a stone wall seemingly sculpted from soft stone. Surrounding her are broken, sharp, jagged stones, a sort of maze of sharp stone. Rearing up ahead of her is a stone tower with hornlike projections. Why someone would build a wall and a tower inside a massive cavern, Nalnera cannot fathom. Nalnera loses her balance and nearly falls, cutting her hand on a sharp stone. As she looks at the hand, she realizes that it is not her hand at all. It shares the proportions of her hand, but is grey and colorless, the hand of a different dwarf. Her blood falls onto the stone beneath her feet, draining somehow faster and faster. It cannot be staunched, he life flowing away, spreading across the floor, flowing into a great pit, bathing giant spiders in crimson.
Snorri and Nalnera awaken thinking that a hammerblow to the head would be less painful than whatever is happening right now.
Snorri gasps for breath, words not born from him spontaneously forming on his lips. "So there were fire and steel and stone and death as Many fight One and One falls, from Him the Z'ggu-Xan-Zara is born. And it preys upon itself to feed itself, that those who are not of it shall know it or beware!"
Breath growing steady, sight onclouding, he rises to a sitting position, holding his head. "I saw... possibly the past? A giant dying, his body greating the Xan and something else, worms... And the island that holds the way down to the Azathyrm. The worms destroyed the gnomish city - perhaps they were Z'ggu? Or Zara? But that should be the way down."
The heir of Dammerhall searches through his memories, looking for a way to reach the passage.
Dasur has returned to leaning on his staff, watching Snorri's protrate form with great interest. The wizard's head tilts up slightly when Snorri rises from the mycelium to speak words laden with equal parts history, magic, and prophecy. Interesting. Did he tap into the network of the Xan? See as they do? Or did he only see as the alchemist does? I would imbide myself, but one of us must reamin uneffected. The drink could skew the perception of reality, or warp the priorities, and finding Dammerhall must be our only goal.
Drawing a breath, Dasur quizes Snorri-
"These worms- you belileve them to be the Z'ggu? If they destroy cities, the danger the Alchemist spoke of is indeed high. Can you guide us to this Island, Snorri? Did the Seeping Steep impart you the Way? Or should we ask for Miku to aid us?"
Curling into the fetal position once she comes back to herself. Get up whelp. You are shaming yourself. Mumbling, "Hate you so much." Staring at her palm and then sitting up.
Rubbing her head, "That felt real. There was a stone path and a tall wall trapping me in a field of shattered stone. Then I was" There was the tower whelp.
Shaking her head, "Right the last part I saw of that field before I fell was a spike covered tower. I looked up and saw the top of cave then fell. There was blood on my hand and it flowed into a pit of spiders."
Staring at the ground again and mumbling, "Felt like dying." Death is not so bad child.
"I think so, I think I saw the way. And if Nalnera had a different vision, perhaps we could see more if we drank more..." a wave of nausea washes over Snorri at the thought of another sip. "But I can't honestly recommend it. Eugh." I need a beer.
Addressing the alchemist, he tries to speak words understandable by both. "You spoke of the city of the peace-gnomes. Was it destroyed by the Z'ggu, such that through them is the way?"
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In Nalnera's head, Regnir seems pensive.
The fortress and wall are not familiar, whelp, but the pit of spiders. That great throat resembles something familiar to me. I believe it is what we called the Sky Gate, as it led up to a great cavern that led to the surface. If so, then it is near the mine that we seek, child.
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The Alchemist seems to ponder for the briefest of moments. Clearly the intellect of the creature works at a pace that is beyond you.
"Z'ggu was a Destroyer of old, but only those that feed on his flesh are the worms, and we the Xan."
"The flesh worms destroyed the peace-gnomes, driving them from the Jungle and into the warrens beyond. But yes Snorri, within the destroyed city is a way deep into the flesh of the Titan Great and beyond to the paths of Snorris before you."
With all of this information swirling through their minds, a story begins to rise within Glenda and Dasur's mind. They confer briefly before realizing what has happened. Z'ggu Xan Zara is the name of a Titan, an ancient foe of the gods. Maybe he was a servant of Rovagug? Or maybe he was a priest of beings from Beyond? They can't quite remember. But definitely he was a Titan who was defeated by servants of the gods. He must have fallen here, and the power of his near-god-flesh must have spawned these worm monsters and even these sentient fungi.
In any case, it appears that you have two options now, the clear danger of the drow in Vothys or the slightly less clear danger of titan fed carrion worms.
After conversing with Glenda to collaborate and confirm their fragments of memories from ancient dwarven historical texts, Dasur shares the information with the group. "Your visions are much clearer now." Dasur drones, Snorri and Nalnera's headaches briefly increasing in intensity as they sense the formation of the wizard's infamous 10 hour lectures.
"Z'ggu Xan Zara was an ancient foe of the gods, a Titan of great power and hatred. I do not know who this Titan served or why, but based on your visions it was encountered and slain by our heroes of yore during the Quest for Sky. Servants of Torag, his family, or his allies must have worked together to defeat such a foe, so great a threat it was to our ancestors and the life above. Its death spawned all of this fungi, the worms, and surely a multitude of other anomolies that we will overcome."
He looks to Nalnera, still recovering on the mycelia-woven loam floor. "Your vision... perhaps it is sight of our destination? Snorri saw the far past, but perhaps your vision was closer to the present? The wall and tower could have been built by the gnomes on the island before their destruction. If so, these are valuable landmarks for navigation."
Without pausing, Dasur's thought process continues. "Snorri saw the distant past, Nalnera possibly saw the relative present.. if another imbides, will they see the future? I would test this hypothesis myself, but one of us should remain untouched by the Steep's effects to prevent a reliance on its information. In any case, I can attempt my own divinations of the future if no one else wishes to partake."
Surpisingly, Dasur's droning appears to be coming to an end somewhere shy of the 10 hour mark this time. "We now face a choice. The Drow of Vothys or the worms of Z'ggu Xan Zara. I would choose the latter. For the Drow are clever, worthy of our respect in matters of defense and subterfuge, and will certainly be on alert after the destruction of their army. I have no doubt some of us would succeed in passing through Vothys, but at what cost? Slavery, fleshwarping, and humiliation awaits those of us that are captured by the Drow. In contrast, the worms simply want to kill and eat us. We do not know their intelligence or abilities- they may posess the same faclities as the venerable alchemist here, or have great strength from the titan-flesh, but the chances are low. Thus, I urge my fellows to face the uncertain and find the earth-wound that will lead us to our home."
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"In my vision I saw a dwarf, a winged horse and a woman wielding a sword... Avatars or champions of Torag, Erastil and Iomedae perhaps?"
Shakily, Snorri pulls himself to his feet.
"I concur with you, Dasur. I remember Erebos' words on the defenses of Vothys, and I would not have us facing poison and trickery. Those worms seem to be simpler foes, ones that can be faced with steel and will. And through steel and will we'll face them, every step towards home."
Rubbing her face before speaking up, "Regnir thinks I saw a Sky
Gate. He think it is near the mine we are heading for." Nice to see you finally listening to your elders. If you would just be nice I would listen more often. There is no place for thin skin here.
Pushing herself up so she is standing again, "I agree that the Drow are not a route I want to take so long as we are cautious."
"I have an... academic curiosity in following the route of the Titans," says Glenda slowly. "It is part of our religious history. While the reality will probably be hip-deep in gnashing abyssal worm goo, there is always the possibility of seeing or learning something relevant to our distant, mythic past."
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Snorri's heart warms as all of his companions agree on the path. He bows deeply at the Alchemist. "Master Alchemist of the Xan, your help has been valuable beyond any gift we may offer. You have shown us the way forward as well as a relic of our past, words can't express how important that was to us. For all of us, I am in your debt. You need only ask a service of me, and unless it is against my home, my family, my friends or the teachings of Torag, I shall do so. This I swear by my axe, that was my mother's, as my family name is."
Turning to his friends and companions, he gently lays his hand on the map of the Azathyr, covered in Dasur's spidery markings, speaking Dwarven. "Long have we marched since we left the surface, my friends. Every mile of the path taking us far away from a home we lived in, but never truly called ours, towards somewhere we never saw, but that is our home. We have fought on our way, we have faced hardship and choices, but we have faced them together. And over and over, together we have prevailed."
"It has already been a long journey. And yet it could be but the first step of our long path. But, by the Gods and the Earth Immortal, we made that first step, and we will make another and another again, until our journey is complete. For nothing great was ever done by those who said "This task is too grand for us to perform"."
"I already owe you much more than I can ever repay, friends, family. And there is nobody I would rather have at my side as we get ever closer to home. Let us take yet another step."
Dasur listens to their future king's speech with rapt attenton, feeling the pride well within his breast once more. A king of kings stands before us. It is up to us to give him his throne.
"This step takes us into the realm of Water. Though water washes off Stone and happily mingles with Earth to form life-giving Mud, we should still be cautious. The Immortal Earth has much to gain from our reclamation of Dammerhall. The other elemental powers, sensing an impending power imbalance, could attempt to impede our progress." The wizard chimes in, knowing that the group will be literally out of their element when on the lake.
"Further caution is advised as we near the Titan's heart. We may expect other magical anomalies akin to our enchanced darkvision in the jungle. We can only hope they are as beneficial."
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Best not to stay here and consume any more fungus. Your chests are beginning to feel the difficulty of breathing with all of these spores in the air. Also, there don't seem to be any places to sleep. Or eat. Or trade things. In fact, the more you look around the Xan city of Xan, the less it feels like any city you've ever seen. Also, you sometimes feel like someone is whispering in your ear. It happens more often to Snorri and Nalnera, but all of you hear it occasionally.
“Is Mount Voormithadreth yet situated in the Eiglopian range or did the need for homeostasis after the confluence of the seven geas force a transdimensal shift?”
“How many moons are to be found in your sky and when is the next septenary convergence?”
“Did King Kohandra manumit the Targas or do they yet persist in helotry?”
“What became of Sarnath in far Mnar?”
“Does any in the Azathyr know of the coming calamity arising from below?”
Beginning to wonder if you are losing your minds, or if contact with the Alchemist is having a deleterious effect, you make your way into the baskets and back over the wall, finding your svirfneblin and drow companions.
You settle your items on the wagon and roll down the passage back into the great cavern of the Jungle.
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Glenda seems unshaken by the strange chorus of voices, as if it is expected... or perhaps she has heard voices before? Clerics often do, after all.
Doesn't Golarion have only one moon...?
"Are you hearing these whispers too? Dasur? Do you know the answer to these questions? Or, even better, who is asking them? The Xan, somehow?"
Snorri's face pales slightly at the last question, as he thinks furiously back to the whispering voice. What calamity? Explain your omens!
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"This is how they communicate," says Glenda. "Through the spores that connect them. Spores that carry words and messages, just like our voices do, through the air. Since you have drunk of the Steep you have become receptive to their thoughts, and you are hearing more of them. This is the chorus of voices of the city, just like walking through the streets of a great metropolis and hearing conversations and shouts and many voices."
Partially hearing Snorri talk but growing more distractible as the noise in her mind grows beyond what she is accustom. Glancing around and the booming sound of her racing blood pounds in her ear. Regnir this is not funny! It is not me but this place. Leave now with your mind intact or linger and go mad. This is not a safe place.
Nodding, rather vigorously, "We should go then."
"I'm not sure, Glenda. These are questions, not in their speech pattern, and weirdly ominous. Like an ancient soul imprisoned in memories... Perhaps a remnant of the Titan?"
The whisering catches Dasur's attention immediately. He still walks forward, but as if in a trance, focusing intently on the fleeting sounds that lack langauge and form yet still ask questions. Puzzling questions that he searches for answers to, that sweep every corner of his cavernous mind.
The wizard is so intensely focused he does not hear Snorri at all. Glenda's explanation is non-existant. Several moments and an entire conversation passes before he speaks, oblivious that the others have already adresses the issue.
"These whispers..." He says, assuming all present can hear them as they heard them during their audience with the Alchemist. "Could this be a form of communication between the Xan, and because they are so densely present our minds are interrcepting their conversations?" He repeats Glenda's conclusion without a hint of awareness or irony.
"Or perhaps, if everything here is Xan... the buildings, the Miku, the ground.... it is talking to itself, just as we do to organize our thoughts. If that is not the case and the Xan is probing us for information, I have no answers for its questions, nor do I understand most of the subjects in the questions."
As you return to your journey, Erebos seems nonplussed by your myconic murmurings. "Demons and Darkness, dwarves, you smell like a dung pile. And Snorri's breath smells like something that died after eating a dung pile. What have the walking fungus done to you? And more importantly, did they reveal to you a way to slip through Vothys unharmed."
Torvi swings the ball on her weapon from its chain as she muses, ”if you ask me, those elves should be more concerned about our leaving Vothys unharmed if our path to Dammerhall goes through there.”
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Erebos rankles at this. "Torvi Stoneheaded, will you never put away your braggadocio and admit that you have no hope of crossing through Vothys to the Dragon's Maw. Thus far, your band has successfully battled: 1 sleeping drow captain and his degenerate orc command, 1 orc invasion force led by an overconfident fool who gained his position by being the idiot son of a Taarysian Count, and 1 slimy blue puddle. Let us find one cave or rock troll, of which Vothys has a dozen, and defeat it. They are known to live in the wilds of the Fungle Jungle. If our sad lot can survive that meager challenge, they mayhaps we can gather the courage to gaze upon the walls of Vothys and only then turn away in fear. Until then, save me your vainglory. Lord Snorri, perhaps if we traded this one to the duergar, they would be able to tell us of a path to your ancestral homeland. I understand that she is only distantly related."
”Don’t make me mock you in song!”
"Erebos you are just mad we caught you doing your job so poorly. You lost so stop complaining. Thought you wanted to be on our side right?"
Rubbing her face, "Besides we aren't going that way anymore. And no one is being traded out."
"Why, Erebos, hunting a cave troll is a marvelous idea! And I'm glad that you are volunteering for the duty!"
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Glenda regards Erebos with something akin to pity. "It's a shame, with your troops dead and your position gone, any hope of returning home dashed and your pride brought low, all that you have left is a barbed tongue; because you know that we, unlike your cousins, will not decapitate you for harsh words," she says evenly. "You may scoff at our ways, you may despise us; certainly you shall never learn to be one of us. But you may learn in time to use our association to your advantage, and to do that you must learn to do what we do with each expression of camaraderie, each act of daring to save another's life, each chance taken to reach the group's goal: You must earn trust."
Dasur manages to communicate with the Xan just enough to trade for some counterintuitively mundane arcane items- mostly magically sensitive inks and binder reagents. The Xan have some fascinating fungal subsitutes, gathered diretly from the forest, that he hopes to study.
He trails behind the group with an armlord of such supplies, carefully loading them into the wagon while they talk with Erebos. Walking up to the gathering of companions with staff in hand, he seems completely nonplussed by Erebos' barbs and the general air of combattedness.
"It is quite fascinating, Erebos." The wizard begins in his typical monotone, regaling him their experience with the alchemist. "This entire jungle was created when champions of our gods defeated a Titan called the Z'ggu-Xan-Zara when it blocked our way during the Dwarves' Quest For Sky. Mushrooms sprouted from its body on its death, which spread through the Azathyr and birthed the Xan. Where the Titan fell a lake formed, and its hardened heart became an island. On this island is an ancient way to the lower depths known as the Sky Gate. At one point gnomes inhabited this island and built a great city on its mass, but remnants of the Titan, similar to the Xan, but this time in the form of killer worm swarms, devoured them all. We travel now to this island in the middle of the jungle."
His exposition finished, Dasur easily moves onto other matters. "I had an arcane epiphany while walking through the Xan city I would like to discuss with you. We have spoke often of reaching out to grab the magical eneries saturating the Azathyr, but what if we acted as though it grabs us..."
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"Impossible, if it attempted to grab me, I would dodge it, and if I somehow failed to dodge, and was grabbed, I would wriggle free immediately."
"But you mistake, Glenda. It is not I that shall be won over to your ways. Does the ancient one, wizened by time, learn the ways of the child? No. The child learns the way of the elder. Some day I shall stand at the head of a dwarven army as we sweep across Taaryisia and bring the drow to their knees. As they beg for mercy, we will feed them to their hunting cats."
"I have never hunted a Cave Troll without my cats, but let us undertake it. What have we to lose?"
Erebos seems truly enthused for the first time since you have known him. There is a glint in his eye that you have not seen before.
Dasur usually pays no mind to being ignored, but he had legitimate arcane mysteries to discuss with Erebos and thus had a stake in the Drow's attention. Glancing between his fellow wizard and the rest of the group, Dasur displays a brief moment of confusion. "I don't understand. Why do we want to hunt cave trolls?"