Before the group departs to commence preparations for the break-in, Venelle calls them all back. She fidgets with her bowstring, her face streaked with nerves.
"Listen, uhh... so, originally, I only signed on because Caith needed my help. Those were my words, you know? Until Caith's soul could be at peace, I'd stay by your sides. Only she's not at peace, and maybe, uhh, never will be?" She swallows. "At least not for now. My point is, I, uhh, my... I only said I'd stay with you all for her. And now that's done.
"Only." She bites her lip. "Only there's still trouble, y'know? And it's way, way above my pay grade. Heck, maybe it's above yours, too. It scares the anything out of me, all this talk about... about worms, and ends of the world, and picking a fight with my landlord and people my landlord's scared of. But I feel like you still need my help." Her eyes linger on Kata. "And I'm not letting you... that is, I'm not leaving you to go down into another dark cave without my help. If you still need me, you'll have me. It's up to you."
”Lass, ‘tis yer decision t’ be makin’, but I’d rather know we’ve yer bow t’ reach out and touch the ones outta my reach. I’d be having ye stay, but ye have t’ live yer own life.”
"You've done more'n y'said'y'do'lready, Miss Venelle," Broccan says. "No shame'f y' want'teh get back t' yer life, bu' we'd be 'onor'd t'ave y' with 's."
"You've done more than you said you would do already, Miss Venelle. There's no shame if you want to get back to your life, but we would be honored to have you with us."
“As the gentlemen said, we’d be honoured to fight alongside you for a while longer,” Alaïs nods, “but it’s your decision. I can’t imagine that if a fight breaks out inside a working mine it will be any easier to maneuver than a monumental tomb complex. If you join us, if for any reason the walls start pressing too close and you have to fall back, we’ll understand. Don’t worry about us!”
She smiles, putting a brave face on things, but makes some space in her thoughts to be ready to cover the gaps if their archer decides to withdraw, and to make sure that Venelle isn’t exposed to more danger in that case.
Venelle hesitates, then nods. "Then I, uhh, guess I'll... keep following along for now. Hopefully I can do a bit more good than I did just hovering in that dusty old store. And, uhh... thanks. I appreciate it."
Edrukk grins, teeth showing through the thick beard, "Fine, fine, that's good t' know." He looks around, "So, we have our team, we have our destination. What's our plan?"
“Oh, well,” Alaïs says with the sort of elaborately casual shrug that might make people familiar with the ways of elves pre-emptively flinch in anticipation of chaos, “I don’t think we need to overcomplicate things?”
“Sneak or sweet-talk our way in while politely, firmly, and inexorably making our way into the mine, ready, in the worst case, to bloody some noses on the way? I don’t think it will come to the last, if we pick our moment properly, so that letting us have our way makes things easier for everyone else. I can honestly say I talked to Moonmeadow about a tour, and you and Mr. Dunchad could be my advisors on finer points metallurgical and excavatorial, and all of us…”
She’s honestly not sure how to frame the presence of the other ladies, really, but she’s sure the group can think of something en route. Guidance about the needs of the local community, as spiritual folk in one way or another? Anyway.
“…underfoot, they might just decide it’s less troublesome to let us take our look before we get in the way of the busiest shift, the changeover, or just business as usual. After all, where would we go if we were inclined to cause trouble, deep underground in an artificial cave? If Moonmeadow gets wind of it and has conniptions, they can always wait for us to come back out, and if we haul some cultists out of there, I doubt we’ll be the ones having to make urgent explanations.”
Spoken like a true child of the forest: Alaïs can’t really imagine willingly holing up belowground for some indefinite period of time, though it seems like that’s what the Ebon Triad lunatics have done – which only confirms their unhingedness, as far as the elven aristocrat is concerned. While the dramatic part of her imagination envisions an improbable unholy temple straight out of a story, a more strategic considers that it might be a good idea for her to pick some berries to transmute if the adventurers have to stick it out for a bit with defenders dug in in very tight quarters.
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"So, we have our team, we have our destination. What's our plan?"
#
Lightning flashes from above, briefly illuminating the small, wretched town of Diamond Lake. From the view on the balcony, the lake and sky are a perfect match, black, murky turmoil occasionally streaked with blinding silver light.
A man leans against the wall beneath the eaves, his dirty-blond curls dripping-wet, his dark eyes glittering as he looks out over the storm. A portly fellow, he cuts an imposing silhouette at over six feet tall, dressed in an expensive but well-worn brown coat that may have been in fashion ten years ago.
Balabar Smenk raises his whiskey flask in a mock-toast to the heavens. "Here's t'you, ya lot of cottonmouths. Good night for a caper."
He gives a braying laugh and downs the flask.
"So you heard?"
He doesn't turn around as a pale woman from the darkness, like a shadow peeling off the wall. Her emerald jewelry glitters as the lightning flashes again. "Me eyes ain't closed. Any word of where Filge got dragged to, by the way?"
"I didn't look." She smiles, baring white teeth. "You know, they just might solve your little problem for us."
"Kyeheh! The wannabe adventurers?" He stares out across the town, his eyes lingering on the faint outline of the Village. "Worms in the dirt."
"I spoke with them in the Emporium. I thought one or two of them seemed... impressive."
"You know what's down there?"
"Mm. I have some theories."
There is a long silence.
"By the way, your sheets are back from the laundress. I'm given to understand she had some questions about the... stains."
He gives . "Hate to leave her guessing." He downs the flask, then tosses it from the balcony to the ground below. "Shoulda sent Goshawk's head along with 'em."
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The Diversion
The night crew is the key.
Elves are commonly believed to be crepescular beings, waking primarily during the twilight hours. This is a slight simplification, but it's close enough. Elves are quite capable of handling themselves in darkness, provided there's enough light to squint by, and they're good at shifting their sleep schedules when needed.
Naturally, this means the mines don't close at night. Unintuitively, this might be to the party's advantage.
A large hand-cranked elevator brings miners and supplies to and from the work area down below, since the cave entrance requires too lengthy a walk for the deepest levels of the mine. Two brawny guards usually man the aboveground winch when needed, but when not needed, they're usually drinking in the shack nearby. Earlier in the evening, a traveling elven noblewoman gifted the miners a lovely vintage--elven wine imported from Crying Leaf--and they are quite deep in checking to be sure it's safe for the diggers down below.
Thunder cracks overhead, briefly revealing the figure of a woman in black with a purple cloak and the sacred symbol of Pharasma hanging around her neck. She lingers next to the winch only briefly, knowing that even this downpour won't conceal her forever--she had to resort to an invisibility scroll gifted by a friendly wizard just to get this far. Luckily, the winch is a simple mechanism compared to what she's dealt with in the cairns. She's good at what she does.
With her work done, she bounds around the hill at top speed to start picking the lock at the cave entrance. The miners will be sending loads of rock and debris up the elevator any minute now--or at least, they'll try to.
When the elevator lets out loud, concerning grinding noises, chaos erupts as the guards above and below start arguing over how to handle it. One of them runs off to find an engineer while the other paces, fuming.
A lone guard is easy pickings for a rosy-haired elf and a tall woman in a red riding habit, both adept at keeping to the shadows. They quickly and silently dispatch him and leave him unconscious next to the mechanism. The elf hastens to strip away the guard's overcoat and hat and hand them over to the woman in red, who is already tying her hair up in preparation for the deception. In a storm like this, nobody will notice her human ears or more feminine features, and she's just about as tall as the elven guards. Her goddess expects her worshipers to be skilled at all forms of deception, and she's good at what she does.
Back at the elevator shaft, the pink-haired elf ties a rope off and drops it down the shaft, making it look like someone has climbed down. Then she runs off.
The disguised 'guard' races off to the front of the stockade, shouting to the patrol--there's been an intrusion! Someone knocked out her partner and made their way down the shaft! She'll happily relieve these guards and keep an eye on the gate, just in case. As soon as they're gone, she waves in her three less-stealthy allies, who'd wisely decided to hide well out of sight.
It's pandemonium at the elevator entrance. The guards at the gate are arguing with the guard at the winch. The guards stationed at the various floors of the mine are arguing amongst each other, all insisting that they didn't see anyone climb onto their level, they surely would have noticed. These guards are paid to break unions and push around layabouts. They aren't paid for their social skills.
The Break-In
As the party convenes at the now-abandoned cave entrance, the Pharasman finally finishes picking the lock. She smiles at her friends and swings the doors wide open--
--to the very surprised faces of a pair of guards who were just a little bit cleverer than the rest.
A moment later, one of them is sent flying by the charge of a heavily-armored dwarf. The guard slams into a wall and slumps to the ground. The dwarf nods in professional approval as the other guard is knocked to the ground and pierced through the side, a flesh wound that causes the man to black out from pain. A slender, finely-dressed elf woman smiles and daintily wipes her thornblade clean, then flicks her head for the group to proceed.
The Infiltration
The silver mine is a labyrinth, and finding their way without running into anyone else would normally be next-to impossible. Fortunately, this has already been planned for. A lean, muscular man with an oft-broken nose and the garb of a soldier steps forward and reviews the layout, then drops his voice to converse with the dwarf. They come to a consensus and lead the party on.
The party does encounter a handful of miners as they go. It's a long walk. Most miners tactfully ignore them, while others are persuaded--by bribery, by silver tongues, or by simple common solidarity with their fellow miners. There is no further resistance as the party descends. By the time the guards at the entrance are discovered, the party is already at the third floor down.
This also means, of course, that there is now no turning back.
You went into the Whispering Cairn in the hopes of answering the whispers that trail around you. You found the remnants of a great battle, a tomb left behind from the Shory Empire and the Empire of Taldor battling it out in the shadows of Earthfall. You found forgotten elementals left trapped in forgotten service by spells too powerful for lesser mages to even try to break. You found ghosts prevented from moving on by some corruption plaguing the land. You also found money. Maybe enough money to help Broccan and the others leave town. But you didn't find any answers.
Over the next few days, you picked a fight with the goons of Balabar Smenk and helped your new companions defeat and capture a heinous necromantic 'scientist'. Apparently, Smenk hired this 'Filge' to investigate a worm acquired from beneath Moonmeadow Mine.
Beneath the mines, you were told, lurks a disturbing order. The Ebon Triad, dedicated to binding together the three so-called Starstone ascendants--Hextor, Vecna, and Erythnul. Or by their modern incarnations, Iomedae, Norgorber, and Gorum. They want to bring back Aroden. What could these horrifying green worms have to do with it?
Gorumites don't consider Gorum to have really needed the Starstone, of course. He was already as strong as a god, but the legends say that the gods shunned him, refused to let him spark conflict between them. So he took the test out of spite. Now the Triad thinks they can use his essence, combined with Iomedae's and Norgorber's, to bring Aroden back from the dead.
The voice has been getting louder. It's less a voice and more a gnawing, a dull sense in your boots that there is something below, something that is waiting for you. Is it welcoming you? Will it devour you? Well, you're a tougher morsel to swallow than most. If it's an enemy, it will break its tooth.
That's the phrase that has echoed around you since you plunged your knife into the first of the Raven Men. It's a comfort, but it's also a burden, a threat, a ring of piano wire always threatening to loop around your neck. Will they know what you did? Will they come for you? That would make things simpler, one way or another. As satisfying as the idea of them already knowing feels--the idea that they might be afraid--you know they're still dangerous. You can't stop now.
You ventured into the Whispering Cairn to earn a bit of income. Things were a little desperate. Nobody knows what you did--and those who suspect don't care to rat you out--but Diamond Lake has a way of poisoning everything, or parasitizing it, like Seeker with that bird.
You found the remnants of a great battle, a tomb left behind from the Shory Empire and the Empire of Taldor battling it out in the shadows of Earthfall. You found forgotten elementals left trapped in forgotten service by spells too powerful for lesser mages to even try to break. You found ghosts prevented from moving on by some corruption in the land. You also found money. Maybe enough money to get out of town and continue the search. But you also found new questions.
On the remains of a follower of Norgorber, she found a scrap of writing with clearly the same code as that in the Left-Hand Raven Man's book. It certainly would not be out of character for Norgorberites to be assassins and killers. Are the Raven Men members of the Ebon Triad, or mere allies? Did the Left-Hand Raven come through town periodically because he had a connection to someone here?
Over the next few days, you picked a fight with the minions of Balabar Smenk and helped your new companions defeat and capture a heinous necromantic 'scientist'. Apparently, Smenk hired this 'Filge' to investigate a worm acquired from beneath Moonmeadow Mine.
Beneath the mines, you were told, lurks a disturbing order. The Ebon Triad, dedicated to binding together the three so-called Starstone ascendants--Hextor, Vecna, and Erythnul. Or by their modern incarnations, Iomedae, Norgorber, and Gorum. They want to bring back Aroden. What could these horrifying green worms have to do with it?
Ravens, crows, magpies, blackbirds. Too many coincidences. Allustan, the closest thing you have here to a confidante, seemed to think there might be a link. He also seemed afraid for you. But a lucky break like this doesn't come along twice. Calistria is offering you a helping hand. It's time to take hold and start climbing.
You faced elementals, ghouls and insidious traps to get to the vault's end, only to be pitted against old rivals among Smenk's employ. After besting Kullen, you feel some closure, but now there's something worse on the horizon. Filge, captured and held now by the Jasidians, was looking into something terrible for Smenk--a cult lurking beneath Moonmeadow Mine dedicated to the revival of Aroden at any cost that is apparently studying some sort of necromancy-eating worm. You've got to get down there and put a stop to whatever it is they're up to. You've also made promises to the Porters, justice for their kidnapped or murdered leader. A lot of promises, lately.
As hard as everyone tries to convince you otherwise, you still have that faint voice at the back of your head telling you that you don't belong alongside such skilled, brave adventurers. But if you can put yourself between them and some horror, well, that's something useful you can make of yourself, anyways.
Over the next few days, you picked a fight with the minions of Balabar Smenk and helped your new companions defeat and capture a heinous necromantic 'scientist'. Apparently, Smenk hired this 'Filge' to investigate a worm acquired from beneath Moonmeadow Mine.
Beneath the mines, you were told, lurks a disturbing order. The Ebon Triad, dedicated to binding together the three so-called Starstone ascendants--Hextor, Vecna, and Erythnul. Or by their modern incarnations, Iomedae, Norgorber, and Gorum. They want to bring back Aroden. What could these horrifying green worms have to do with it?
You grow more homesick every hour you spend in the Village, this not-quite-right shadow of a true elven settlement. But whatever this cult is up to, it can't be anything good.
Finding the hidden chamber still might have been impossible if the party didn't already have a friend on the inside. There's one guard here who's on the party's side, an aiuvarin named Ava. It is thanks to her that the party is able to find the secret door.
Ava smiles tightly as the party works the mechanism to pull the walls apart, revealing a narrow hallway. "I think their next supply shipment is in four days. Shouldn't be anyone coming up or down aside from that. I'll be checking on this entrance as regularly as I can without making anyone suspicious--if there's anything you need from town, I can pick it up and bring it back here." She rubs the back of her neck. "I, uh, don't know how long you'll be down there, but... good luck. Any friend of Rosella's a friend of mine."
"If y' could leave s'm food, wat'r'n bandages, that'd 'elp eh'lot, Miss Ava," Broccan replies, trying to think of what would be most needed if things went poorly.
"I you could leave some food, water and bandages, that would help a lot, Miss Ava."
As the adventurers convene on the threshold of the den of vipers they’re committed to eliminating, Alaïs reflects ruefully that the most obviously fun part of the business is behind them – at least until such time as they secure bragging rights, which is the tricky bit. Her head stuffed full of romantic tales and notions of noblesse oblige, she is very far from averse to a bit of flashy sword- and spell-play, but even Alaïs is aware of how messy things might get. She’ll have to make it worth it, and hopes she won’t lack for inspiration for a suitable song.
Gathering herself, and trying not to think of how unlikely it is that there’ll be space enough to keep foes at bay with arrows, she gratefully ekes out the last moment before plunging into the cultists’ lair to thank Ava, “Thank you. As Broccan says, if you can spare a moment and a few odds and ends, if it takes longer than we hope… Just an apple or two (or the like) rolled in would give our magic something to work with. But please don’t worry about it for at least a couple of days, and only if you don’t need to risk your neck any more than you already have.”
A last idea strikes the aristocrat. “Oh, and just before we go – would you happen to have a smattering of a less common language that your colleagues might not know? <Draconic, perhaps?> <Celestial?> If we end up needing to, we should be able to enspell a message for you here, and something that’s not our mother tongue would reduce the risk of interception.”
Readying her shield, she offers a last, smiling glance back before stepping into the passage ahead. “Thanks again, Ava, in any case. After all this is over, drinks for us – and not for distraction – are on me!”
"I... I know a little Goblin from the Bronzewood Lodge, I guess?" She nods resolutely. "I'll bring back food and bandages tomorrow, if I can. Good luck."
"Alas, I have no Goblin. Let's stick with our own language and leave it to the luck of the goddess, if it comes to that," Alaïs confirms. "Cheers!"
Edrukk spits, "Ah know the language o' those lil rats. It'll work fine if'n ye need t' use it."
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Edrukk spits, "Ah know the language o' those lil rats. It'll work fine if'n ye need t' use it."
Edrukk shakes his shaggy head, "Nah, goblin works. Ah know th' lingo of those wee folk. Don's ask me t' explain 'alfling-talk, though. Can't do it."
"Got it. I'll keep an eye out either way."
As she pulls the secret door shut, the party lights their torches or spells and makes their way down the passage. It's not a long walk.
After about a minute, the party comes to a large chamber. A big, wooden platform with a 5-foot wall built around its edges stands at the center. Struts rise 10 feet from each of the platform’s corners, joining in an X above the platform. A thick iron chain runs through the X’s midpoint to a large, wooden spool set in the middle of the platform. The platform is 10 feet wide and 10 feet long.
It's another elevator, but one that can be operated from the platform itself.
Edrukk looks at the contraption with a critical eye. ”Doubt it’s a quiet affair, aye, Broccan?”
"Looks like'eh rattle-bang'r," Broccan replies, after a moment's consideration. "O'course't migh' drop jus' from our weight'n not make'eh noise 'ntil we stop't. O'course've we drop too long, we'll 'it th' bott'm 'ard."
"Looks like a rattle-banger. Of course it might drop just from our weight, and not make a noise until we stop it. Of course, if we drop too long, we'll hit the bottom hard."
Edrukk looks around the chamber for any signs of other people or their equipment before stepping closer to the suspended platform and looking down the shaft cautiously.
Alaïs considers the lift somewhat dubiously, her thoughts subconsciously flitting back to the trapped shaft under the Whispering Cairn, with its howling winds. Still, her luck held then, and she hopes it might continue to do so now. Air and light seem to like her – which makes her rummaging around down here all the more ironic, though she tries to think about roots giving strength to trees and so forth to keep herself from freaking out with the thought of how much earth and stone are between her and the surface.
She takes a closer look at the device, and at a glance it looks like the sort of thing she encountered by-the-by in her architectural studies - but her interest was more in design than the practicalities, so the most she can say is that nothing looks obviously out of place to her.
"It's the sort of thing where we just wind ourselves up or down, right?Everything seems in order to me, but I can go first, just in case."
She reaches out for the bit that she thinks controls the feed of the chain through the spool, and steps onto the platform, assessing how much it gives her weight. It should be fine, right?
"I think it could take another, but otherwise, I'll see if I can get a foothold down there," she adds. After enough time for someone to join her, she starts lowering herself and any companions down, an ear open for just how much of a racket the contraption makes in the tunnels.
"No'tworried 'bout't break'n s'much's make'n eh rack'it som'n below could 'ear, Miss 'lais," Broccan replies in a respectful, but clarifying tone.
"I'm not worried about it breaking, so much as it making a racket someone below could hear, Miss Alaïs."
The elevator certainly seems to handle Alias's weight without a problem.
The chamber is largely featureless. There is no light from down below that Edrukk can make out.
"Aye, yer n' goin' 'lone, lass. Too long fer us t' get t' ye - if'n we can even bring th' platform up without ye. We go t'gether. Jus' wishin' 'twas a quieter way t' do 't." Edrukk's flinty eyes indicate that he will brook no dissent on this.
"Gimme a nice firm tunnel any day, but this, lemme look at it."