Yes, it has a goofy title, but it got your attention, didn't it? Strangely enough, it turns into that later on, so as you read through the story, you'll see it's an apt description of what is going on...
This novelization will be written from the 3rd person omniscient viewpoint (since I'm the DM as well as the author) and will likely incorporate some events that the party is not/was not aware of at the time, just to make things interesting to read.
Enjoy!
The ringing of small bells hung in the breeze, the only sound to be heard in the courtyard as Graven and his companions meditated. Above, clouds scudded across the blue sky, the sun shining brightly, reflecting off the neatly-raked sand of the meditation garden. Graven’s eyes flicked open and he looked around for the tenth time in as many minutes, his thoughts unsettled. He had traveled from the temple of Istus in Greyhawk to the residence of Elluvar Moonmeadow in Diamond Lake in the hopes of getting to speak to one knowledgeable in the ways of the Lady of Fate, and still hadn’t had a chance to truly speak with Master Moonmeadow in depth. At war with his elven nature, Graven was impatient, knowing that things were taking place that were not acceptable in this world and wishing to get on with stopping them from happening.
Then again, that was one of the reasons he was in the meditation garden at this time. Isendur, one of Master Moonmeadow’s companions, had suggested he learn patience by trying to meditate on the serenity of all things. This garden was here to foster just such thoughts. And yet, beyond the walls, Graven knew that there were filthy miners working in terrible conditions for a few silver pieces a day, and that beyond this tiny morseeli town, evil was afoot.
Taught by a radical sect of Istus that shared more with Wee Jas’ teachings than Istus’ teachings, Graven felt that Fate had its plan, and that altering fate or evading one’s true destiny was a sin worthy of destruction. Taught predominantly in the ways of defeating the undead and those who create them, Graven’s soul burned at the very thought that such creatures existed and that those who had been gifted with the fires of life might spend their days either creating monsters from those whom Fate had taken back into Her arms or trying to avoid that destiny altogether by becoming liches or mummies.
Forcing himself to calm once more as his blood seethed at the thought, he looked across at the other three in the courtyard. Not far away, clad in the revealing gowns she wore when not armored for battle, sat Lauryl, whose name was actually Erumrae. The daughter of an elven priest of Eilistraee and a converted priestess of the dark elves known as Drow, Lauryl (who took that name since it was easier for non-Elves to say) was a priestess of the goddess of the dance, her satin gray skin glowing faintly in the daylight, her snow white hair falling to her waist in pluming falls, gathered into a top-knot at the back of her head to keep it out of her way and allowed to fall freely from there. Nearby sat Ielena in her black armless and legless bodysuit. The rapier and bow she normally carried was in her room and her bare legs caught his eyes, curled beneath her. Her blonde hair was also pulled back, this time in a ponytail that reached nearly to mid-back. Beside her, dressed in the drab greens and browns of his forest clothing, Avlan looked half-asleep, his eyes half-lidded, his head tilted back so as to look up at the sky. His handsome features were slack at the moment, his hands firmly pressed into his knees.
“How was it that we came to be with one another again,” he asked himself, giving up on his meditation and looking at the others. Each was a traveler from another place, having been sent to this dung-heap of a town on the edge of a filthy lake, where the flesh of the earth was torn out and carted to the surface, to be fired and hardened for transport to other places, where the actual creative work was done to make it into something useful. Lauryl had come in response to a vision quest given to her one night by her goddess. Ielena and Avlan were friends from childhood, come to work for Master Moonmeadow per their parent’s instruction. And here he was, sitting with them, doing nothing despite the knowledge that he had come to learn and thus far, learned nothing.
His thoughts were interrupted as one of the doors to the main residence opened and Isendur stepped out, resplendent in his robes of silver and blue. Moving quietly across the courtyard, he stopped in front of Graven (who had closed his eyes in false meditation) and waited. After a moment, Graven opened his eyes and looked up, to find Isendur frowning.
“It does not bode well that you cannot even find relaxation in meditation,” Isendur said, shattering the silence and causing the other three to open their eyes.
“There is much to be done,” Graven replied simply. “This is a waste of time.”
“I found it quite rejuvenating,” Lauryl said, smiling at their current taskmaster.
Ielena yawned and stretched, grinning. “A nap in the middle of the morning is always nice,” she said.
Avlan simply opened his eyes and waited, not moving from the meditative position while the others stood and stretched.
“Yes,” Isendur conceded. “Much to be done. As always, you are a surprise, Graven. How like the Humans you disdain you can be, yet retain our qualities. I am uncertain how that is so.”
Graven’s anger threatened to burst from his throat, but he kept himself quiet for the moment. Like a Human!? How dare he! Instead, he said, “Fate will have its way with all who live, Master Isendur. We have longer lives to live than the Humans, but that does not mean we should waste more time than they are allowed in this world doing nothing useful.”
Isendur eyed him while the others shook their heads. Graven had been like this since he arrived.
“Have you ever considered the idea that the reason you have not been taken to see Master Moonmeadow was that your impatience might be wearying to him?” Lauryl asked suddenly. “Perhaps you are too much like a Human in that sense to spend prolonged time with him.”
The words were spoken in question and with no ill intent, but Graven flicked his eyes to the half-Drow and stuck there, pinning her in their merciless stare. Unlike others, however, Lauryl was made of stern stuff, her belief in her goddess giving her the strength to simply stare back. She, after all, had spent more than a few evenings in private conversation with the master of the compound.
After a moment, Graven nodded. Never one to deny logic, he found himself agreeing suddenly. “You could be right.”
“On that note,” said Isendur, “I have come to you with a purpose this day. Your time here has been spent doing the lesser duties of the residence and you have all fulfilled them admirably. However, at this time, Master Moonmeadow has another purpose for you. If you will follow me.” Isendur turned from them and crossed the courtyard, not bothering to look back as the others followed.
The interior of the mansion was done in light woods, with plenty of windows to allow light in. Plants grew in niches along the walls and paintings hung here and there, depicting elven scenes of beauty to inspire and enlighten the viewer. Isendur led them through a number of smaller conversation rooms to a larger chamber near the middle of the building. It was a library, and across one of the tables was spread a map of Diamond Lake. A number of tokens had been spaced across it, both to keep it down and to mark places of interest. Graven and his companions had seen this map regularly, since it was never moved, but this time, there was a new token, perhaps half a day’s walk from the town in a section noted for having absolutely nothing in it. Each eyed the map and then each other before turning to look at Isendur.
Master Moonmeadow’s lieutenant eyed them all. “As you can see, Elluvan has found something of interest and would like to find out more about it. It appears that not all of the cairns have been entirely investigated, at least so far as he can tell. Apparently, he was having a conversation with Chief Cartographer Cicaeda and they came across this information. Since you have all been chafing at the bit to do more than simply wait on us, I thought you might be interested in doing the investigation for him?”
Graven’s response was simply to grin. The others nodded, looking pleased at the opportunity to do more than simply spend their days in the compound. Diamond Lake might hold entertainments for the miners who spent their days in the lightless tunnels of the mines, but each of the elves knew that this was little more than a smudge of dirt on the face of Oerth and that there were more enlightening things to be doing (even if it meant spending fruitless hours trying to meditate).
Isendur smiled faintly, having expected the response. “Very well. You are to investigate a cairn located perhaps half a day’s walk from Diamond Lake to the north east. Map it out and bring back anything you find of interest. There is another troupe of adventurers in town at the moment from the Free City. If you are smart, you will not reveal to them what you are doing or why. From what I gather, one of them is a past champion of the Free City Arena, so tangling with them might not do you well. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Master Isendur,” Lauryl said, nodding.
“We have no quarrel with them,” Avlan replied. “It should be of no consequence to them what we are about.”
“Unless they get in our way,” Graven commented flatly.
“If they get in your way, as you put it,” Isendur responded, “you will, of course, have to deal with it as you can. However, Master Moonmeadow has specific interest in this locale. Keep that in mind.”
“Understood,” said Graven.
“If you need anything before you leave, feel free to drop by the kitchen and the stores. I wouldn’t want you going unprepared, after all.”
---
As the group moved along the old deer trail that led through the woods away from Diamond Lake, Graven thought over Isendur’s last comment. “I will meet you just after sunset at this location,” he’d said, pointing to an illustration of a home in the woods. It was perhaps two-thirds of the way to the new cairn Master Moonmeadow had found and might prove useful. According to Avlan’s calculations (he was a master of long distance travel in the wilds, Graven had been led to believe), they should be coming up on it shortly.
As the trail followed a bend in the valley they were following, they came into view of the old manor house. A two story manor that had long since collapsed to one due to age and disrepair, the first floor was made of stone and strong enough to resist whatever might come. The black openings of broken windows allowed a view inside, some cut off by the thick growth of foliage and trees from a lack of gardening over the years.
“We need to do this carefully,” suggested Graven. “An organized approach…” But it was too late. Already, Avlan was moving forward and around the left side of the place, sticking to the thicker line of trees to that side of the building. Ielena stepped to the tree line on the right and disappeared, her bow in one hand as she moved to investigate. Only Lauryl stood nearby and she smirked at him before heading toward the front door. “So much for that, then,” he muttered.
Reaching the porch , Lauryl stepped up, causing a creaking sound to ring out that made Graven cringe. “Master Isendur?” she called, loosing the bastard sword she had slung over one shoulder just in case. Someone responded from within and Lauryl turned to grin at Graven, who had not moved from the spot they’d first seen the house. “He’s inside,” she said loud enough to be heard. A light rustle from the trees to Lauryl’s left announced the appearance of Ielena from the shadows, and Avlan came around the opposite corner. Graven started moving again as the others went inside.
Once he joined them, Isendur nodded to the lot of them and turned up a lantern he’d had hiding in a nook inside the house. “I did not want to announce my presence to anyone who might be moving around tonight,” he said by way of explanation. With the lantern turned up to normal brightness, they could see that the interior of the manor house was just as bad off as the exterior. The broken windows had allowed moisture in and the walls were dappled with moss, the floorboards gray with age. A broken pile of wood stood in one back room, with openings onto a kitchen. The large main room had a stair leading up to the collapsed second level, while another door hung from one badly corroded hinge and opened onto what must have once been an office, telling by the large desk and collapsed shelves within. Four cots had been set up in the main area, and a small chest stood open nearby, containing blankets, wood for fires and other simple supplies. Their patron waved his hand, encompassing the place. “Geravin Vesst once owned this place before he went bankrupt. No one lays claim to it, and thus it will make a fine base of operations while you explore the Whispering Cairn. I have brought food and sleeping supplies as you can see, but if you need anything further, you will have to come into town for it.
I also have this.” Isendur pulled a satchel he’d had slung over one shoulder off and offered it to Lauryl, who opened it and looked inside. “Pens, parchment and ink, along with several healing potions in case you are injured while exploring. Consider them a gift, but use them wisely. They are not easily replaced.”
“I understand,” Lauryl replied, nodding. “You have our thanks.”
Isendur smiled and looked at the others. “Map the cairn and bring back anything you can find that would be of interest to Master Moonmeadow. I have talked him into trust you with this duty and I am certain you will prove capable. Stay here tonight and follow the trail down the hill in the morning. The cairn entrance is not far from there. Good night.” Isendur made to leave.
“You’re leaving us out here?” Ielena said, looking at the moss-stained ceiling.
“Come now,” Isendur said, grinning, “It has not been so long since you lived in the wild. Besides, if you are seen leaving town during the day, others might notice. Best if you stay here for the night and begin your explorations in the morning. That is, after all, why I told you to come prepared.”
Ielena shrugged and nodded.
“I’ll get something cooking,” Avlan said quietly.
“Be safe, Isendur,” said Graven.
Isendur raised a hand, “You as well,” he replied.
---
Graven was used to sleeping in cots. The sect he had studied under felt that deprivation of the body only made one stronger and a cot was sometimes a luxury. He had never become fully comfortable with the heavy, padded bedding available in the Moonmeadow residence, and on occasion, had even slept on the floor just to remind himself that beds are truly a luxury for some. The others, however, looked worn and stiff in the morning and spent some time stretching before they were entirely comfortable again.
“Luxuries lead to laxness,” Graven muttered, watching them.
“And all work and no play makes Graven a dull boy,” Ielena replied, grinning as she bent over backwards and did a reverse somersault. Graven could not help but watch as the motion displayed the young woman’s taught musculature. It did not help that the one-piece outfit she wore fit incredibly tightly. That it did not cover much of her legs except where her boots covered her feet only added to the seductive motion. When she was standing again, he forced himself to look away. Only to find himself staring at Lauryl as she brushed out the tangles in her hair. He shook his head and looked outside, where Avlan was making a warm gruel out of the supplies Isendur had left them.
After everyone was warmed up and fed, they shouldered their packs and set off down the path, trusting to fate and Isendur’s knowledge that the place wouldn’t be invaded while they were gone. Before they left, however, they stored the cots in the pantry in the back of the house, in a corner where outside viewers could not tell anyone had been there. Avlan covered up his camp fire and they were off. As promised, the cairn in question was visible a scant ten minutes later, around a bend in the path. A faint susurration of sound could be heard coming from within the dark entranceway, as if voices whispering in a crowded room.
“I think we know how it got its name,” Graven said evenly.
“How in all the gods’ names did anyone miss this?” Avlan asked, eyeing the mound around the opening. “We’re less than thirty minutes travel away down a trail even a neophyte can follow!” He looked around and then snorted, kneeling to examine something in the dirt. “In fact, it has been found several times, telling by these tracks.”
“Not everyone has your eyes,” Lauryl replied, grinning as the ranger looked up at her. “Perhaps they thought this was already looted?”
“Perhaps it already has been,” Ielena replied, turning to look at them with a grin on her face. She was standing by the entrance way, one hand on the glyph-covered stones to either side. The glyphs were so old and weathered that they could have been anything and they paid them no mind. “Either way, Master Moonmeadow wants to know what is inside, so in we go!” Without any further conversation, the slender elf disappeared into the shadows within.
“Ielena!” Graven uttered, grumbling, “We need to go about this intelligently!” He shook his head.
“I heard that!” the young elf’s voice echoed down the passageway.
“And anything in there heard that, too,” Graven muttered.
Avlan snickered. “Guess we’d better follow her.”
Lauryl reached back and loosened her bastard sword in its sheath, settling her shield across her left arm and moving slowly inside. She was whispering prayers to her goddess, Graven noticed.
The whispering sensations seemed to grow louder within the tunnel, as if someone was telling them to go back in some unknown language. Graven wondered how that had been done, or if this was some sort of ancient magic that had never been deactivated. There was no sign of Ielena until she reappeared at the edge of the light cast by a torch Graven lit.
“Hey!” she stage-whispered, “Don’t give me away!”
“Sorry,” he muttered, not meaning it at all. “Perhaps if we knew where you were before you went there, we might avoid such things?” But it was too late. Ielena had already disappeared into the shadows.
A series of niches along either side of the hallway held nothing but dust, though one looked like a body had curled up and died there. Lauryl prodded it with her sword and it crumbled into a pile of dust as well, a few flakes of fabric telling Avlan when he looked through them that it had been a blanket. “Someone probably left it here when they spent the night out of the rain, perhaps.” He shrugged and gestured for Ielena (who had moved back to the edges of their light) to continue. Another niche held an unusual item shaped like part of a broken mirror, but no one could tell what it was. Ielena noticed an unusual glyph at its base and scribbled it onto a piece of Isendur’s parchment, and they were moving once more.
A set of stairs separated the initial entry hall from a larger intersection below, where a large hallway crossed at right angles. Directly ahead, a faint green light could be seen, but it was indistinct. Moving slowly down the stairs, the party discovered the reason for this – the passage ahead was entirely blocked by the silky stuff of spider webs. As they were about to investigate the left-hand passage, the quiet growl of dogs could be heard. As they turned, a trio of wolves, one larger than the other two, stepped into the light, fangs bared, eyes glittering in the darkness.
“Hold on,” Avlan said, sheathing his sword. “I might be able to get them to calm down…”
Before he could, the ranger was set upon by the ravenous wolves, and the halls rang to the clangor of battle. Avlan went down beneath the onslaught, one arm torn to the bone as he screamed in pain. Ielena appeared from the shadows and shot the biggest one with an arrow, drawing its attention her way while Lauryl whipped her sword out of its shoulder scabbard and lashed it across the flank of one of the wolves savaging her friend. Graven reached down to loose the spiked war chain about his belt, taking care that the spiked skulls that lined its length did not catch on one another. When it was clear, he lashed out, knocking the wolf who had taken Avlan down away and ripping a huge gash in the creature’s face. Quickly, the growls of the wolves turned into whines of pain, and before long, all three were down.
Avlan lay on the floor, his skin pale as a sheet as he held his left arm, which had been ripped open to expose the bone. He grit his teeth in silent pain, still lying where he’d fallen. While Ielena moved to each wolf and made certain they were dead, Lauryl set her blade on the floor and knelt beside him, whispering soothing words that made Graven think of moonlight for some reason. When the prayer ended, Lauryl’s hands had taken on a silvery glow and Avlan’s injuries faded to a thin scar, the muscle regrowing and knitting itself until it was almost as if the wound had never happened.
“You have my thanks,” whispered the ranger, nodding. “Eilistraee be praised.”
“Eilistraee be praised,” Lauryl replied, smiling. Standing, she sheathed her blade before offering a hand to help him back to his feet.
“Hey! There’s a path through the rocks over there,” Ielena said, coming back to the group.
“You’re going to get killed if you keep leaving us without warning,” Graven said darkly.
“If you can’t see me, what makes you think anyone else can?” the young elf replied, grinning. “Anyway, the wolves had to come from somewhere. There’s a small tunnel through some rocks over there. Only place I can think of they could have come from. Smells foul, so that’s probably it.”
“You are probably right then,” Avlan said, rubbing his arm and fingering the torn leather. “Need to get that fixed when we get back to town,” he muttered. More loudly, he asked, “Have you looked inside?”
“Who? Me? Tight spaces are not my thing.” Ielena patted the rapier at her belt. “Can’t exactly use this in a crawlspace. What if there are more wolves in there.”
“I’ll go,” Graven said, shaking his head.
“You sure?” Avlan replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Why not? If there’s another wolf, I’ll kill it. It’s not like they looked ready to listen to you when you tried, hmm?”
Avlan opened his mouth to reply and then shut it, nodding. Nearby, Lauryl watched the interchange and shook her head. “Just get on with it then, Graven. No need to insult anyone…”
“But I… Bah!” Graven crawled into the hole.
Graven returned a short time later, smelling like a sodden dog but bearing an old backpack. Inside was a bluish-purple lantern of antique design, a couple of scrolls he’d found in the mess, and an attractive necklace, which Ielena promptly hung about her neck. “No more dogs,” he said, watching the young woman admire the piece of jewelry.
“These are just normal spider webs,” Avlan said, standing near the archway. “There are stairs beyond, and it looks like some sort of green light source below.”
“I wonder if it’s what’s drawn on the wall down there?” Ielena asked, looking down the opposite hall from the dogs’ lair.
Graven glared at her. “What is it?” he asked, sighing.
Ielena looked unrepentant. “A fresco of a domed chamber with a bunch of lanterns in it.”
“I would imagine we’ll have to cut through to find out,” Graven replied in a droll tone.
Seeing no one was about to start the process, Lauryl pulled her blade out once more and began waving it through the webbing. It was thick and descended quite a bit of the way down the steps, leaving her blade enveloped in the stuff, but it provided no resistance and they were soon through. What met their eyes beyond the webs was a sight out of antiquity.
A large domed chamber met their eyes, with short passageways leading in a variety of directions. Directly ahead of them, a large lantern matching the one Graven had found lit the chamber, with similar lanterns hung in other passages adding their own colors. The vault above was studded with glittering stones, making it look like an open night sky hung over a huge sarcophagus decorated with the raised image of a individual lying in state. Two of the lanterns were missing, and the sarcophagus, it turned out, was shaped somewhat like an arrow pointing to the green lantern.
“Impressive tomb,” Avlan whispered, awed by the majesty of the chamber and the work it had taken to create it.
“Worthy of someone important,” Ielena replied quietly, nodding.
“The rainbow,” Lauryl whispered, looking around at the lanterns.
“What?” The others turned to look at her curiously.
“The lanterns are arranged in the pattern of a rainbow, only two of them are missing. Look.” She pointed. “Red should be there. Orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, which is in your pack, Graven, and violet. The lanterns all look alike, and they match the one you found.”
“Grave robbers, then,” Graven concluded, growling beneath his breath.
“What?” Ielena said, looking sharply at him. “We’ve not taken anything!”
“Not yet, no,” Graven replied curtly. “Someone else has been here and attempted to leave with some of the lanterns. We found the indigo one in a pack. They must have been killed by the wolves when they entered their lair.” Reaching back, he pulled the pack containing the indigo lantern off his belt where he’d hung it for safekeeping and produced the large lantern. Nearly as big as his torso, it was quite heavy and looked large enough to hold a torch.
“Let me see that,” Ielena said, taking it from him when he offered it. Turning it around for a moment, she discovered that the top slid away, allowing access to the interior, which held a pair of rings to support the torch that went inside. Taking Graven’s torch, she set it into the brackets and swung the top closed, hearing a soft click as she did so. “There.”
“Wonderful. That is our light source, Ielena,” Graven said.
“But not our only one,” Lauryl answered. Uttering a soft prayer, she touched the holy symbol on her chest, which started to glow with a silvery light, as if the moon were full around them.
“Interesting gifts your lady offers,” Avlan said, eyeing the now-glowing symbol.
“The Lady of the Dance and the moon are closely entwined,” Lauryl said reverently. “I but asked for a bit of her radiance.”
“That works. See?” Ielena grinned at Graven and then jogged off to hang the lantern from a chain hanging at the end of the short hall Lauryl had suggested. Upon her return, she eyed her handiwork. “We just need to find the red one, then.”
“Why?” asked Graven.
“Who knows? Maybe it’s some sort of locking mechanism for the sarcophagus? Or something interesting will happen? Maybe the vault holding all the treasure will open up and spill our a world’s worth of wealth on us?”
“Now, you’re dreaming,” Graven muttered.
Ielena smirked. “Life is all about dreams,” she replied. “It’s the fun ones you want to recreate.”
“I could argue with you about that, but I doubt it is worth it.”
Ielena stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re no fun, Graven.”
“I try not to be.”
Lauryl shook her head. “Now, what about this sarcophagus?”
“It looks like it has something to do with the layout of the room,” Avlan said, kneeling beside it and looking at its unadorned sides. “It’s too plain to be the true resting place of anyone worthy of deserving a chamber like this. And there are strange markings on its sides. I think it moves.”
Moving the sarcophagus was not easy, but was doable. For their first attempt, they turned it to face the yellow lantern, resulting in a strange stone cylinder to rise up beneath the lantern itself before a door slid open inside. Ielena stepped inside and looked around. It was just big enough for two people to stand close by one another, but that meant there wouldn’t be enough strength above to move the sarcophagus.
“Send me down and I’ll take a look around,” she suggested. “If there’s anything interesting, we can figure out some way to explore it together.”
“I don’t like the idea of you going down there alone,” Graven said somberly.
“Why?” the young elf said, grinning. “Afraid you’ll never get to spend any more time with me?”
Graven smiled faintly, amused at the thought. “There is a certain aspect of truth to that, yes.”
Ielena leaned over and kissed him on the nose. “Well, this is the sort of thing I do, so get used to it. I’ll be right back. I promise.”
Avlan snickered at the exchange and prepared to push the sarcophagus. That seemed to be the only way to make the thing go back into the ground, after all. After a moment, Graven and Lauryl joined him, but before they could move it, the vault began to close on its own.
“WAIT!” Graven called, but again, it was too late. With a sound of rumbling stone, the vault descended back into the ground and Ielena was gone. “We have to get her back!”
“The only way to make it come back up is to move the sarcophagus,” Avlan said, starting to push. “Let’s put it back where it was and then go back for Ielena.”
“Right.”
With some straining, the sarcophagus moved again, back to point at the green lantern. Again, the grinding noise that accompanied the rise of the vault Ielena had stepped into took place, only this time, the floor shook and the grinding got worse. With a sudden crashing sound, the vault rose out of the floor, only to sit there amidst rising bits of dust.
Graven and the others eyed the vault, and then went to turn the sarcophagus again, but before they could, the vault sank back into the hole it had risen out of, but this time, it did not go peacefully. With a grating rumble and the cracking of stone, the vault collapsed back into the hole! The others eyed it with curiosity, the sarcophagus momentarily ignored.
“That was a magnificent failure,” Avlan commented dryly.
“I hear something,” Lauryl said, tilting her head. They all could when they concentrated on it. A buzz mixed with the sounds of skittering, rising from the hole the vault had ripped in the floor.
“That doesn’t sound particularly inviting,” Graven said, pulling his chain off his belt. Avlan and Lauryl prepared as well.
But none of them were ready for what happened…
---
Ielena waited while the sliding sounds and the slowly descending feeling disappeared, reaching up to where she had tied a sunrod to her outfit and pulling it off. Scraping it against the wall, the alchemical reactions swiftly set the thing alight and she hung it through a loop hanging off her rapier’s scabbard. The interior of the cylinder was plain and unadorned, with nothing saying where she was going or what she would see when she got there. Pulling her blade, she kept it loose at her side, rolling her shoulders to prepare to leap out and roll in case something was waiting for her.
The door slid aside, revealing a small chamber lined with carvings of people that matched the one on the sarcophagus and stuck partway out of the wall. They looked to be revering one of their number in particular, but Ielena quickly disregarded them. They were no threat.
After a quick look around, she realized there would be no threat in this place, since the only exit from the room she found herself in was blocked by a large stone block that reached nearly to the top of the opening that obviously led from here. A dark stain on the floor and a matching hole in the ceiling told her that a trap had been set off. The victim was beneath the stone, no doubt.
Unfortunately, the stone blocked off her only avenue of exploration. Turning back to the vault, she looked upward expectantly.
“Any time now,” she whispered…
---
The opening in the floor exploded in a gout of black, glittering things and hissing liquids that stained the stone yellow. The buzzing of thousands of insects filled the air as Graven and the others backed away quickly. They crawled out around the edge of the opening, they flew in random directions, they clung to the walls, and everywhere they went, they left a yellow trail of sizzling acid that ate into anything they touched.
“Stay away from them!” Avlan said, backing away and pulling out his blades. A two-blade fighter, he held a longsword and matching shortsword in his hands, ready to defend himself if necessary. Lauryl’s blade slid from its scabbard and went into a ready position even while Graven looped his war chain around his fists and made ready to smash into the swarm.
A moment for the bugs to realize where they were, and then they began to advance on the only source of food they saw – the party members.
Blades were swung and the chain rattled out, batting hundreds of the creatures from the air. But still, they came on. Avlan was quickly surrounded, his cries of pain echoing in the chamber as the acid they exuded ate through his armor and began to tear at his skin. Hundreds of the creatures landed on him, biting and crawling beneath his leathers. Lauryl too, howled in pain as the things surrounded her. Graven’s chain swatted them by the score, but the swarm was too big, with too many tiny creatures within it to truly be affected.
His friends screaming in pain, Graven fell upon the twin vials he carried at his belt. A mixture of reddish liquid with the gold of some sort of alchemical creation, he plucked them off his belt, yelled for his friends to dive out of the way, and threw them at the ground at the base of the swarm. Lauryl and Avlan dove, batting at their faces as the vials impacted the ground and exploded into gouts of flame that charred and ate at the bugs. Still, the creatures came on.
“Retreat!” Graven yelled. But Lauryl had succumbed to the creatures and lay beneath their swarming bodies, not moving while Avlan stumbled about, trying to see through the miasma of pain and acid eating away at his body. Taking a deep breath, Graven dove into the swarm, swept Lauryl up from the ground and ran as fast as he could. Avlan followed, and they fled up the stairs, away from the creatures, that seemed content to swarm about, lapping up what they’d stolen from Lauryl and Avlan’s bodies, though some continued to follow.
“They are mindless,” Avlan grunted, wiping crushed beetles away from his face as they ran toward the entrance to the cairn. “Once we get past the reach of their senses, they will cease chasing us.”
“Then we run,” Graven said, ignoring the burning sensation the acid creatures had left on him when he’d rescued Lauryl. She still breathed, telling by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, but she was badly burned and would need the healing touch of Istus before it was over.
They reached the whispering entrance to the cairn and looked back, pausing. Trying to control their panicked breath, they listened for the creatures following them. When, after a few strained moments, they realized all they could hear was the whispering words of the entryway, they calmed, looking Lauryl over.
“She is stunned, I think,” Graven said, setting her down on the dirt outside. Reaching up, he took his symbol of Istus, Lady of Our Fate, into his hands and began whispering a soft chant he’d learned long ago. The burns faded, the bite marks across Lauryl’s gray skin closing to tiny puckers that dimpled her and would disappear over time, and the half-Drow opened her eyes and looked around. Panic struck then, and she thrashed, moving away and looking about in panic.
“Beetles!” she cried, eyes going wide as she looked about.
“It is alright, Lauryl. We have escaped them!” Avlan called.
The words had their intended affect and she looked about. “Where is Ielena?”
“By the Seldarine!” Avlan cursed. “Ielena is still in there!”
Graven turned and glared at the shadowed entrance to the Whispering Cairn. “We will come back for her. We will need more fire than I had on me at the time. She will understand.”
While Lauryl and Avlan recovered from their injuries, Graven headed into town to purchase some more of the bottled fire he’d used in the battle, along with several pints of oil. On the way back, he took bits of string and tied a bottle of the liquid fire to a pint of oil, in the hopes of spreading the conflagration that would result from a toss. That would see those damned bugs!
Meanwhile, belowground, Ielena realized something terrible must have happened when a distant rumble could be heard. Searching desperately for a way to activate the vault from within, she realized she was trapped unless and until someone opened it up. Praying that her friends were alright, she sat down for a bit, but soon enough, she found herself scouring the walls for interesting details and staring at the stone that had fallen from the ceiling.
Soon after, she discovered the fact that some of the faces in the statuary had holes in them, where something must apparently come out. “Trap,” she whispered, eyeing the stone and wondering what else had filled the chamber when it had fallen. Determined to find out, she moved to the stone and began to investigate it, pulling herself up to look through the opening at its top and thrusting the sunrod through to light up the chamber beyond. Little more than a hallway with niches filled with statues, it did little to sate her curiosity. Thus, she was secure in the knowledge that Graven would likely be angry as the nine hells when she climbed the stone and slithered through the tiny opening, removing her tool belt and weapons and shoving them through before following wearing little more than her bodysuit and boots.
She fell to the ground with a soft tap and began replacing her gear, when she caught a glimpse of something moving in one of the niches. Curiosity got the better of her and she began moving down the passageway, leaving the sunrod where it was so as not to give away that she had left the spot where she landed. Silently, she slid her rapier from its sheath, moving on the balls of her feet and trying to stick to the few shadows the sunrod left in the passage.
All was for naught, however, as a stringy looking ball of muscle, hung with razor sharp claws and with a pair of floating eyeballs above it floated out from behind one of the statues. Repulsed by it, she could do little more than stare at it in horror as it aimed a beam of bluish light from one of its eyes. The beam made her feel a little tired, and that was the shock that threw her into action.
There was no way out behind her, she knew. She couldn’t climb the stone and get away before that thing could reach her. So all she could do was go on the offensive. Falling back into the steps her fencing teacher had taught her back home, she stabilized herself and then thrust, throwing her entire body’s weight behind it when she felt it impact in the middle of the ball of reddish-brown fibers.
Strangely, her blow struck entire through the thing and its weight became suddenly apparent as she killed it and it ceased to float itself before her. It dragged her blade down to the ground with a crash and she was forced to push it off using one of her boots, making faces at the squelching sounds as it slid off, but even moreso at the stink it caused.
“Okay,” she said quietly, trying to keep from losing the breakfast Avlan had made them, “I’m going back to wait now…”
---
It turned out Lauryl and Avlan needed more than just the afternoon to rest when Graven returned from his expedition into town. Avlan was exhausted from his body having to heal itself through the force of magic and the following assault by the acid-splashing beetles and was still fast asleep when he returned. Lauryl was sitting outside the collapsed house, meditating while wearing one of her silvery robes. Her hair had been let down and her body was partially visible beneath the shimmering cloth.
“Did you get what you went for?” she asked after a moment. She did not turn her head, so he was not certain if she had opened her eyes or not. He had to assume not, since she was still seated in her meditative position.
“I did,” he replied. “We should return for Ielena before she believes we abandoned her. Panic can set in after only a few hours.”
“Avlan is not ready and I have drawn upon all of Eilistraee’s blessings that I will be able to call on this day. She knew what she was doing when she entered that thing and knew the risks. You do not give her enough credit, Graven.”
“I tend not to give credit to those who have not earned it, no,” he replied, leaning against the stone wall of the house. “She is little more than chaos bound into an elven form, attractive though it may be.”
“Oh, so you have noticed.” Lauryl’s voice took on a faintly mocking tone.
“I notice everything, Lauryl,” he replied flatly. “Like the fact that when you move just so, you expose almost everything you have to offer beneath that gown. That you are willing to wear such a thing in a mor-seelie town like Diamond Lake and that you are not afraid to be seen such.”
“Mor-seelie,” Lauryl said, a smile tinging her voice. “A dung-hole it may be, Graven, but it is where our lives have taken us. The people of this place are unused to outsiders, having grown up surrounded by filth and the depravity offered by the entertainments they have here. A little elegance can go a long way to brightening their lives.”
“Walking around in see-through clothing is also a good way to get assaulted,” Graven commented.
“You have seen me fight. Do you think I had not considered such a thing?”
“You think I am underestimating you as well, do you?”
“I think you do not give anyone who is not yourself credit to survive in a world you see as much darker than it truly is, Graven.” Lauryl slid one hand off a knee and moved to take up the hilt of her sword, lying on the ground nearby. “If you wish, someday I can show you just how wrong you are.”
Graven smirked, admiring her strength of character even as he admired the curves of her back. “I think I might enjoy you teaching me to enjoy this world,” he replied.
She turned and grinned at him over one shoulder then and let the blade drop back to the ground. “I think you would,” she said simply. “But such is for a time when you have, perhaps, earned my respect as well, hmm?”
One of his eyebrows rose at that and her soft laughter seemed gently mocking as he walked away.
---
After the first hour passed, Ielena realized something had gone wrong up above. Aside from that strange grinding noise, nothing had happened, leaving her to wonder if she’d been abandoned. When the sunrod went out several hours later, the wonder became certainty and she hoped her friends were alright. Hopefully that noise hadn’t been some sort of trap crushing them all and leaving her trapped down here forever. The Whispering Cairn had been explored before, and she had physical evidence in front of her of the dangers of its traps. She could only hope and pray that nothing had become of them.
Eventually, after pacing the room innumerable times and coming to the conclusion that it was a gas trap in the wall that would likely go off if the stone was moved (some sort of double-trap – ingenious, she noted), she realized that her friends were not coming back for quite some time.
There was nothing to do but go into Reverie.
And wait.
---
She snapped out of Reverie when the vault she’d been sitting in spun and closed its doors before beginning to rise again. Looking up at the ceiling (which was no longer visible after her second sunrod had gone out), she whispered a silent prayer to the gods of luck and stood, resting her hand on her rapier just in case something she wasn’t expecting turned up rather than her friends. When it came to a stop and the door slid open, revealing Graven, Avlan and Lauryl standing beside the sarcophagus, she smiled brightly and traipsed over to them, ignoring the brilliant flare of light that lit the chamber. Graven had purchased a lantern while she was trapped and it now lit the chamber in a myriad of colorful sparks reflected from the ceiling. Reaching them, she hugged Graven, kissed his cheek, did the same to Avlan (who looked away in embarrassment) and then grabbed Lauryl’s hands in a friendly welcome.
“What took you?” she asked. That was when she noticed the stench of burnt oil and the pall of smoke that hung around the corners of the room and gathered in the top of the dome.
“We ran into some problems,” Lauryl replied, nodding at a wide patch of blackened bugs scattered across the floor. They crunched underfoot as well and she realized there were small insect-like bodies all over the place. A horrid smell reminiscent of cat urine hung in the air and she could see the drizzled yellow stain of acid on the stone of the floor.
“Looks like I missed out on some of the excitement,” Ielena replied, grinning.
“I wouldn’t call it exciting,” Avlan replied seriously. “Life threatening, would be more like it.”
“Nothing a little fire couldn’t take care of, like I said,” Graven opined, grinning. “Sorry it took so long to get back to you. We couldn’t wake Avlan here up after the bugs decided to eat him for a snack.
“You try nearly losing an arm and then having most of the flesh of your face torn off by acidic bugs!” Avlan snapped, clearly unhappy at the jibe.
Lauryl stepped between them and rested a hand on Avlan’s arm. “It was a joke, Avlan,” she said, glaring at Graven.
Graven looked innocent. “Indeed! No need to take offense!”
“So, nothing else changed while I was away, I see,” Ielena said, grinning. “While you were off fighting buggies, I found an interesting chamber below, but it’s blocked off by a fallen stone trap. There was a hall beyond that, but it had a strange muscly thing floating around in it. I killed it.”
“You killed it?” Graven asked, staring at her.
“Mmhmm… All by my lonesome. Imagine that, huh?” Ielena pursed her lips and grinned. She turned away then and eyed the open hole in the floor where the bugs had first appeared. “None of us are entirely incapable on our own, Graven…” She moved to look into the pit, trying to see what might be below. “What happened here?”
Graven rolled his eyes. “I never said that anyone was…”
“Nevermind,” Lauryl said, grinning at him. “The vault collapsed and fell in. That opened the way for the beetles that we fought.”
“It looks like it might open up down there. There was a hallway where I ended up. Maybe we should go look around a bit?”
As if on cue, the vault Ielena had spent the night in slid back into the floor. The quiet grinding of stone on stone followed as it sank back to wherever she had been.
“At least we don’t have to worry about how to move the damned sarcophagus,” Avlan said softly. “Let me arrange some ropes and we’ll head down.”
“Well,” Ielena said, turning and looking at the others. “Business as usual, I guess!”
The climb down was not difficult once the group had arranged the ropes and knotted them for safety. They found themselves in a chamber Ielena said was similar to the one she’d spent the night in, only this one was damaged and stained with more of the acidic stains the beetles had left when they passed up above. Immediately, the party was on edge, prepared for anything.
It was not long before such preparation became useful. When more of the beetles attacked from an orange fungus filled room, Graven made use of more of his prepared fire flasks, and they were quickly dispatched, leaving the room a smoking ruin. Dangerously, though, the smoke hid the presence of a much larger beetle, which came around a corner and sprayed the group with more of the acid the lesser creatures seemed to drip wherever they went. After their initial shock at the pain and surprise, the party made short work of the creature, cracking its carapace and splattering its soft insides across the already acid and smoke-stained walls.
Poking around in the ruins of the chamber, they discovered the bodies of previous invaders who had fallen to the beetles; red-armored individuals who wore symbols Graven stated were reminiscent of the forces of Chaos, but which were sometimes used by a secluded sect of historians and archeologists who used whatever means were necessary to get whatever it was they were looking for.
“They deserved their deaths,” he judged, eyeing them while Ielena poked about their fungus covered bodies and produced a few bottles labeled “healing” and a strange pearl that seemed more luminescent than normal. Pocketing the items, the troupe turned the other direction and entered a strange chamber with a tall guardian standing over several bed-like stones that had a magical breeze wafting from their surfaces. A figure lay on one of them in a semblance of sleep. The fact that it’s head had been caved in gave the lie away, however.
Strangely, however, the elves were affected by their efforts more in this chamber, and Lauryl even made to lie down, causing the statue to become active and try to crush her skull! Dragging her from the bed, the others retreated, watching as the statue returned to its post and resumed it’s position, as if nothing had happened. Ielena returned to the body, resisting the urge to lie down and rest for a while, spearing another beetle on her blade when it appeared from behind another stone bed and then looking the body over for anything of interest. Slipping a silver ring from his finger and onto her own, she returned to the others and nodded that they were ready.
Behind them, the stone statue continued its eternal overwatch of the chamber.
The hallway between the two chambers led to a flight of stairs that dropped into a room filled with water. Unperturbed by this, Graven and Lauryl produced some of the rope they’d kept from their climb and looped it about their waists while Avlan and Ielena watched. Graven produced a sunrod from his pack, scraped it on the wall to light it, and the two descended into the murky depths…
---
If there was one aspect of being underwater that Graven particularly disliked, it was the inability to communicate with others. Watching Lauryl move along beside him in the darkened, flooded chamber, he wished he could be more direct about where he was going; especially when his footsteps began to dredge up muck from the floor that began to fill the otherwise clean water. Soon enough, they were trudging through a cloudy morass that hid direction from them. It was that morass that hid the presence of the vortex of water that grew from nothing and suddenly set him and Lauryl to crashing off the walls, trying to retain their grip on the rope and their belongings.
Graven bounced off the wall hard, feeling what was left of his breath leave his body in a sudden expulsion and felt his feet leave the floor. In a matter of moments, he was pulled away and into the vortex, swirling around the center of the unnatural thing before being flung off to bounce off a hidden pillar. He felt the crunch of his skull hitting the wall, saw stars appear before his eyes and fought the sudden urge to take a badly-needed breath. Reaching down, he tugged hard on the rope still looped about his waist, hoping Avlan and Ielena would react in time…
---
Ielena and Avlan were having a discussion on the merits of descending at random into a darkened, water-filled chamber when all hell broke loose. The previously clean water had turned a murky brown at the movements of their friends, but that still did not explain the sudden movement of the rope as it began to bleed out of Avlan’s hands at a rapid rate.
“Stop it!” Ielena yelled, reaching out for the rope and then hissing in pain as the swiftly moving thing burned her unprotected palms.
Avlan, ready with his combat gloves on, simply clamped down, slowing and then stopping the rapid retreat of the rope and then beginning to pull on it. “Something is fighting it, pulling it around! They’re in trouble! You go in after them! I’ll pull them back from here!”
Nodding, Ielena offered a quick prayer and dove in, swimming strongly through the dark until she came up against Lauryl, who was pressed hard against the wall by an unnatural vortex spinning in the water. Staying as far out of the way of the watery cyclone, Ielena reached out and grabbed one of Lauryl’s flailing hands and pulled, freeing her slowly and allowing Avlan’s continued pulling to send her toward the stairs. Recovering from her stunned shock at what had happened, Lauryl began to help, and soon Graven was pulled through the vortex toward the stairs.
It, however, was not done with them, and soon, Ielena was sent flying as something flew out of the vortex and slammed into her, blasting her breath free from her body and sending her crashing into one wall, to fall as the thing swept past, chasing its prey. Picking herself up, she ducked low to the ground and grabbed handfuls of the muck that had gathered, pulling herself along below the level of the spinning vortex.
---
Avlan pulled and pulled, gathering up the lost rope and coiling it behind him in wet loops. Hopefully, he would get to a point where the taught nature of his efforts would result in the appearance of one of his friends, but he was beginning to wonder. Just then, Lauryl appeared, gasping and choking, bent halfway over even as the water before him began to take on a distinct curling appearance. When Graven appeared as well, the vortex appeared full-on, giving him nary a chance to catch his breath before sending a massive wave at them, threatening to swamp them all back into a watery grave.
“What is it!”
“I don’t know!” Lauryl managed, still coughing as she regained her breath. “It doesn’t seem to like us being down there, though!”
Graven leaned against one wall and coughed up lungfuls of water as the waves continued to crest and rise, a small cyclone of water rising from the bottom of the stairs, bringing the water of the flooded room with it, to batter and smash against them. “An elemental of some sort. It must be why the room is filled with water!”
“Where is Ielena!?” Avlan called.
Her blade stuck out of the water then, followed by her head as she rose, slashing her blade through the base of the cyclone and causing splatters of water to fly off in every direction. “Attack it, damnit! We have to disrupt it somehow!” the rogue called, receiving a solid slam of water as the elemental swept around and slammed into her. Thrown from her feet, she crashed into the wall and slid to her knees, sinking below the water once more.
“Eilistraee’s blessings be upon us!” Lauryl cried, pulling forth her bastard sword once more. Turning it sideways so as to cause more of its cross-section to batter water from the thing, she leapt to the attack, even while Graven uttered a prayer to Istus that set his chain to glowing with a holy light.
They took several more bruises and Ielena ended up having be dragged from the water, but it was only a matter of time before the crazed thing was destroyed. Slumping back into the water with what seemed an almost thankful wash of waves, the elementals power was dispersed and the water became quiet once more, leaving the soaked adventurers to stare at the smooth surface uncertainly before turning and beginning to heal their bruised and broken ribs.
Eventually, when the water had been quiet for some time, Graven took up the rope once more and nodded at Avlan to be ready to pull him back.
“You’re going back in there?” the ranger asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wasn’t your first experience bad enough?”
“If there was anything else down there, it would have come out by now,” Graven argued. “Have you seen any other way out of this area other than going back up?”
Avlan shook his head, agreeing with him.
“Then it’s back in we go. Lauryl, are you coming with?”
The drenched priestess nodded, giving up on squeezing water out of her long and now filthy locks of white hair.
“Don’t expect me to come in there and save you again,” Ielena said, grinning. “You only get that once a day from me.”
Graven eyed her for a moment and then shook his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Without another word, he turned and descended into the water.
“I don’t know whether I like that he doesn’t seem to get it or whether I want to wring his neck,” Ielena said, looking at the other two.
“You get used to it,” Lauryl said, grinning before she too, ducked under water.
Lauryl carried the sunrod this time, watching as Graven moved through the darkened waters carefully, wary of another attack the likes of which she’d never experienced before. She had heard that creatures made of living water existed, but never in her life had she expected to run into one! It had resisted all but the strongest of their blows, but finally, it had dissolved into the mess she walked through now. She could smell the stink of the muck from the floor, taste it in her mouth despite trying to keep it closed. It would take quite some time to get clean again after this…
She watched as Graven followed the wall to their right, ignoring openings between pillars that led to a wall in what she thought was the center of the chamber. Spigots high on the walls showed that this had, at one point, been some sort of cleaning chamber. The elemental must have gone mad and filled the place up after being left here for so long. Who knew when this place had been built? He stopped at an archway they’d not seen before and then went inside, his rope hanging limply in the turgid waters.
---
Graven’s thoughts were focused on the wall he ran his hand along in case the water filled up with the muck they were walking in. They could only stay down here for so long before their breath ran out and he did not want Lauryl overextending herself if need be. Thus, his thoughts disconnected from what he was doing, if only for the moment, he did not notice the pale figure reach down from above the archway as he entered, but instead felt the tearing sensation at his shoulder and the cold shock that flashed throughout his body. Looking up and trying to resist the tensing of his muscles that threatened to lock up entirely, he saw the cold, wicked eyes of something which, had he seen it beforehand, would never have seen the light of day long enough to attempt such a thing.
Instead, he felt his muscles go rigid, his body began to sink, and it was all he could do to hold his breath as the thing swept down in an elegant arc, bits of its long-dead body floating in the water as it peeled away. Wicked red light glimmered in its evil eyes as it landed before him. Grinning darkly, it reached down and slashed a razor-sharp talon through the rope, severing it and thus, his only line back to Lauryl and the others. With a knowing look, it began to pull him further back into the tiny room he’d entered, opening it’s mouth to expose fangs as it reached out to take a bite from his neck.
A sharp pain shot through his body and blood began to boil out of his neck, billowing out into the dark water as the creature began to feed. “Thus dies Graven,” he thought.
He prepared to die a horrid, frozen death, eaten alive by the water-dwelling ghoul…
---
Lauryl felt the jerk of the rope as Graven moved suddenly forward. Only, instead of continuing to be pulled forward, the rope went limp and began drifting toward the floor. Instantly alert, she forged ahead, no longer aware of the taste and smell of the liquid world she was enveloped in. Coming around the corner, she could see the hideous creature that had Graven in it’s claws, saw the grotesque bits of flesh floating in the water in the light of his sunrod, could suddenly taste the flavor of dead flesh in her mouth and up her nose. And blood... Lots of blood.
Letting loose an incoherent yell that sent bubbles toward the low ceiling, she reached up to her holy symbol, mouthing the words of a prayer to her goddess even as the thing turned and leveled black, glistening eyes upon her. As it turned to head in her direction, leaving Graven to fall, frozen, back toward the rear wall, the symbol lit up with Eilistraee’s grace, and the creature flinched away, shielding its eyes and howling soundlessly in the water. Bolstered, she put her hands to her blade and charged forward, spitting the thing on her blade as it tried to cower away. Setting her feet even as it turned to try and fight through its fear, she set her feet and gave a mighty wrench, her blade slicing through rotted flesh and bones like paper, severing the creature from it’s stomach to its right shoulder, from which her blade exited with a foul pall of rotted guts and fluids.
Nearly wretching with the hideous cloud of detritus from the dying creature’s innards choking her mouth, Lauryl reached forth and grabbed Graven, wondering why he made no attempt to flee. When he fell back forward and bounced off the floor without trying to slow himself, she suddenly knew. He was paralyzed by the ghoul’s touch! Shoving her blade over her shoulder and into it’s sheath, she grabbed him under the armpits and began hauling, hoping they had enough time. Before she did, however, she gave another sharp tug on the rope that was still about her waist, feeling the reassuring tug back that told them Avlan was paying attention. With her assistance and with Avlan’s constant pull, they shot back through the darkness, and arose once again from the depths.
---
Ielena eyed the bloody couple as they rose from the water again, her expression turning horrified when she saw the hideous amounts of blood covering them, along with grayish bits of skin and bits of… something, sticking to them. “What in the Seldarine happened to you two this time!?”
“Ghoul,” Lauryl said, trying to rid herself of the taste of the now-polluted waters. She lay Graven down beside her, nodding at him as his eyes followed, but his body refused to move. His chest began expanding and contracting once again, so he could breathe. Blood from his neck continued to pulse out onto the cold stone. It was only a matter of time.
“How long will he be stuck like that?” Avlan asked, kneeling beside their stricken friend and examining the bite wound at his neck. “And can you do anything about…” He stopped as she knelt beside him, touched her holy symbol, and began her prayer while touching his neck with her free hand. The silver glow came forth, closing much of the injury, but it was still a terrible wound.
“Not that long, thankfully,” Graven uttered, suddenly set free from the rigid position he was in. He rubbed his jaw, which had locked painfully on him and then reached for one of the potions they’d received from Isendur. Quaffing it, he waited until the pain faded, nodding at the others when they informed him the wound had closed to a slender scar.
“You will need to have that wound checked when we get back. I’d hate to lose you to Filth Fever from this,” Lauryl said.
“You’d hate to lose me from the fever, or just hate to lose me?” he managed, smiling faintly. “Thank you for the rescue. I thought I was done for…”
Ielena gasped. “Was that an actual thank you!? Bestill my heart! Has Hell frozen over!?” She grinned.
Graven had to admit it was humorous and chuckled softly. “Think what you will of me. I admit when I needed rescue, and I did just now. You have my gratitude. All of you.”
“Aww, he’s getting all soft on us,” Avlan said, smiling and helping him stand. “You would have done the same for any of us, friend. Do not let it bother you.”
Graven clapped his friend’s arm with a hand and nodded. “I won’t. But I thank you in any case. I owe all of you my life.”
“Now, if we could just figure out what to do with it,” Ielena quipped.
Graven looked at the water for a moment and then shrugged. “I think we’ve discovered all we are going to in there. I certainly don’t feel like being any more underwater creature’s target…”
“You said it was a ghoul,” Avlan said thoughtfully. “I thought our kind are not vulnerable to ghoul attacks of that sort.”
Graven nodded and then stopped, staring at Lauryl. Together, they said, “Ghast.”
“A more powerful version of the same type of creature,” said Lauryl. “Either way, it is gone now, the tortured spirit within sent to its final rest.”
“Yes, all over the two of you, by the looks of it,” Ielena said, reaching out and plucking a bit of gray flesh from Graven’s shoulder.
“I think we can safely retreat from this place and call it a day,” Avlan suggested. “I for one wouldn’t mind a rest, and just by looking at the two of you, I can tell a bath would not be turned down, hmm?”
Lauryl gave him a thankful nod, and the group set off for the ropes. Whatever else might be down in that accursed room could wait for the next day.
The party returned to the collapsing home Elluvan had led them to, collapsing gratefully onto their cots and falling into a deep slumber. Rising, they dealt with their ablutions before eating a meal prepared by Avlan and heading in to town for a change of scenery. With nothing in particular to do, Graven turned to the others.
“I have a mind to see if there are any in need which I can assist,” he said. “I understand Jalek has a few hopeless types in his flophouse down by the lake. Perhaps I can find a few who are not lost causes.”
“And convert some of them to your ever-so-dark ways?” Ielena responded, snickering.
Graven eyed her. “It is not ever-so-dark,” he replied flatly. “Undeath and the desecration of the dead should be hateful to any who walk the face of Oerth. Is it so unusual to have someone who has spent their life focused on making this place safe from such foul abominations?”
“Ah, but what good will you be serving if you’re down at Jalek’s talking to homeless people?”
“Good comes of good actions,” Ielena, replied Graven, tiring of her jibes. “That they will convert to follow Istus based on a single visit is not likely, however, if I can provide them with some goodness in their lives, perhaps as a result, they might see Istus in a more favorable light. In that sense, goodness is done, and Istus is served.”
“This, I have to see. Hello. I worship an aspect of the goddess of fate who hates undead. Here’s some money! Have a nice day!”
“Ielena, leave him alone,” Lauryl said quietly. “If you were to serve a god or goddess directly, you might better understand that which drives him. As it is, he seeks to do good and we should not try to stop him.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to stop him,” Ielena replied, grinning. “I’m going with just to watch!”
“Oh, no you are not,” Graven replied.
“Try stopping her,” Avlan quipped.
Graven’s jaw moved as he ground his teeth before setting out. He did not look back.
“You are too hard on him at times,” Avlan whispered.
“Yeah, but he deserves it. He needs to learn how to smile more often.”
---
Golot stared at them through the opening in the door, his helmed features looming overlarge in the sliding port hole. Jalek’s flophouse hung overhead and spread in all directions, its loose sideboards making it appear as if the entire place might collapse at any moment. Graven had just explained his purpose for being here and the massive mute was just staring at them.
“Help,” Graven said. “The homeless people? Inside your building.” He repeated the important parts.
“Offer him some money,” Ielena suggested.
Graven turned to glare at her and then looked back at the mute looking through the open port. He hadn’t opened the door, but he hadn’t left either, so he had to be there for some reason. Reaching into his pouch, Graven produced a silver coin and held it up. “This is yours if you do.”
There was a click and the door opened. Golot’s hand stretched forth, waiting until Graven set the coin in it before the door swung the rest of the way. Golot was a huge hulk of a man. His bulk took up the entirety of the doorway until he stepped back into an alcove where he sat most of the time. Then, it was possible to squeeze past him. Graven offered his best smile and did just that, letting the others deal with him as they wished. They were only there to gawk and make fun of his efforts anyway.
Once past Golot, there was a slender hallway that opened onto a stairwell and several rooms. A large open area seemed to be the common room for the place, and many were standing or sitting around on rickety chairs and filthy, threadbare rugs. The general feel of the building was one of loss and despair. Even Ielena fell silent, eyes widening as she got a full view of what life at the bottom must be like.
Graven waited until they were aware of the party’s presence before speaking. “Istus’ blessings upon you all,” he said just loud enough to be heard throughout the room. “I have come to offer what aid I can. If there are any injured, I can heal them. If there are any ill, I can offer what treatments I have.”
They stared at him, some unwilling to move, some too tired or ill to bother. Some, however, stared at them and at least one was glaring. That one waited until a young woman brought forth a child with lesions on his leg to be healed. “What we really need is food,” he said harshly. “What good is healing if you’re just going to fall down from not eating like that one did?”
Graven was taken aback, straightening from where he’d knelt to look at the child’s injuries. He’d expected venom from that one, but to hear such words and to think he had not even considered that…
“I have food,” he replied appealingly. “I can offer what I have…”
“What’s that? A day? You gonna feed everyone here, priest?” He practically snarled the last word. “What we need here is a job, not your pity!”
Turning away from the angry one, Graven intoned the prayer of healing over the boy’s injured legs, watching with respect as the lesions healed over and closed, leaving him unharmed. The boy stared in awe and then rubbed his legs before starting to rise slowly. He nearly fell, but Graven caught him alongside his mother, before helping him to stand against her.
“You have our thanks,” the woman said quietly. “I can offer you nothing in return, however.”
“Payment is not necessary,” Graven said, watching the angry fellow approach. “I have come to do what I can in the name of Istus. Your thanks is all that is required.”
“Slummin’, isn’t it?” the fellow said, moving to stand before Graven and waiting for him to rise. Even at full height, Graven only came up to his chest, the fellow was massive. His physique told of years of hard labor, probably in the mines. The phlegmy sound to his voice gave away what had sidelined him from his work. “Come to offer help to the poor, so ye don’t feel so bad walkin’ around in yer finery.” He looked the party over, ignoring the looks of startled embarrassment coming from the girls. “I know how it goes with you adventurer types,” he said, snarling.
“We have come to offer assistance,” Graven said quietly, drawing the man’s attention back. “I have offered what food I have, and I can probably provide more at another time. I understand what it is like to lose your way…”
“Lose my way?” the man said, coughing such that he had to stop and spit a large wad of black phlegm on the floor. The place was so dirty and stained that it instantly disappeared amidst the other dark spots on the floor. “I din’t lose my way, priest,” he said, emphasizing the last word as if it were an insult.
“No,” Lauryl said quietly. “You lost your job to the lungrot.”
The man stopped and stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. He looked as if he was about to speak again, but could not find the words.
“Do not be so surprised,” Lauryl said quietly. “It happens often enough. It is only surprising that the mine managers offer nothing to those who come down with it.”
“S’not fair,” the man said, his features caving in to a sullen, lost look. “Twenty years of hard work and suddenly, ye’re not good fer nuthin’. Can’t lift a barrel, can’t fling a pick… Yer good as dead to the mines…”
“I can offer some coin to tide you over,” Graven said, drawing his attention back. “Help you maybe start again, find a new type of work.”
The miner laughed, but it turned into a cough that he hid behind a hand. “I’m too old to be starting as a ‘prentice,” he said.
“Hope is only lost if you stop believing in it,” Graven said. Reaching into his pouch, he produced a handful of coins. “Take this and do what you can with it.” Instantly, however, others in the room noticed the coins and began to pay attention.
Ielena moved to one of the individuals standing nearby and pulled a small pouch off her belt. “Take this,” she said, upending it onto the man’s hands. “Go get something to drink and some new clothes, maybe.” The gleam of gold sparkled in the half light of the room. The others’ eyes began to sparkle with avarice.
As the man left, the locals started to gather around, hands out hoping for coins.
“That was twenty gold I gave him!” Ielena said, eyeing the crowd of suddenly needy people. “I don’t have any more but maybe you can get him to share!” Dark expressions flickered throughout the crowd and many moved off.
“Ielena!” Lauryl said, shocked. “What if they hurt him or try to steal it!”
“Then they’re not here causing problems,” the young elf replied, looking out the door as the others left to catch up with the other fellow.
“You are bringing more pain than aid,” Avlan said, disappointed.
“But there really IS enough to share!” Ielena pouted and turned away.
“We will return,” Graven said to those still present. “With food and possibly work if I can find it for you. I cannot promise anything, but I will try.” He turned and offered Ielena a look that could turn people to stone before heading back outside. Down the street, a scuffle had broken out where the poor were fighting over the gold coins.
“See what I mean?” asked Lauryl, seeing the desperation in their eyes.
“I’ll give them more next time.”
“That was twenty gold, Ielena,” Graven said dangerously. “More than anyone in that building has or likely ever will see at one time. Do you have any idea of what you’ve done? People in Diamond Lake will kill for that sum of money!”
“You looked like you were in trouble,” Ielena shot back. “All I did was clear the room!”
“And cause a fight in which someone might just die for those coins,” Graven retorted. “I have had enough. I am heading back. When the rest of you are ready, we can return to the Cairn.”
Ielena offered a dirty salute.
The walk back was a quiet one.
---
Lauryl peeled off from the others to report to Elluvan before heading back to their makeshift home in the hills. Joining them sometime late in the afternoon, they decided that now was as good a time as any to head off to the Whispering Cairn and soon were standing before it, the sunlight fading in the west. Ielena struck a sunrod against a rock to illuminate their path before handing it to Avlan. She moved ahead wordlessly to check if anyone else had come in while they were gone.
“She might have been heavy-handed,” Avlan said quietly while they waited for her ‘all clear’, “but she was actually trying to help.”
“There are better ways to help than causing riots,” Graven replied, watching the opening and fingering his war chain.
“She did give away a fortune,” Lauryl said. “You have to recognize her for that, at least.”
“It could have better served if broken up into parts they could all have shared. You do not give a pauper a fortune and expect him to have any of it a week down the road.”
Ielena stepped forth from the shadows, startling everyone. “If I’d known we were going there ahead of time, I would have gotten change. Happy?” She nearly snarled.
“Ielena…” Graven began, shaking his head and raising his hands. “I meant no disrespect…”
“No, you meant to say that I’m a fool and made it clear enough, Graven. The way is clear. Let’s go.” She turned and stalked back into the darkness, the others watching him to see what he would do.
Sighing, Graven followed, the others close behind.
---
Once back in the domed chamber with the lanterns, they looked about and eyed the open hole that led down to the chambers where they had fought the water elemental and the ghast.
“We have explored that to its limits,” Avlan said, gesturing toward the opening. “Ielena, you said there were passages down the corridor from the transport you rode in. Do you think there is anything worth exploring that way?”
Ielena nodded. “There were statues and another chamber, at least. I did not go very far, thinking you all might come back any moment and I might get stuck below.”
“We are sorry for the delay,” Lauryl said in a placating tone. “We had issues of our own to deal with.”
“I understand, but that means that, yes, there is more to look at down there.”
Graven nodded. “Then we need to turn the sarcophagus once more.”
With some effort, the vault rose out of the ground once again. Inside, while it would be a tight fit, two could fit for the ride down to the level Ielena said was present. She and Avlan went first, leaving Graven and Lauryl to force the thing back to the opening where the beetles had come before shoving it back.
“There’d better be a way to get back up down there,” Graven muttered between grunts while pushing. “Otherwise, this will be a one-way trip.”
Soon enough, they had joined the other two in the small chamber below. With proper light, they could see that the faces and figures in the walls had been damaged by some attack previously, as if someone had taken offense to their presence. It also highlighted a button in the wall of the vault that, when pressed, caused the door to close and the rumbling sound of the transport’s motion to occur. Perhaps a minute later, the sound occurred once more and the door opened again.
“Not stuck. Nice,” Graven commented.
Ielena pointed out the trap threat and how to get past the stone (by crawling over it).
“It may be possible to simply tip it over,” Lauryl pointed out. “If we do that, perhaps we can avoid being defenseless when we come down the other side.”
Ielena avoided pointing out that she hadn’t been defenseless when the thing made of muscle and eyes attacked her, instead focusing on finding a way to disable the trap she knew lay under the stone. While the others pushed on the stone, she concentrated on finding the pressure plate. When the stone began to tilt, she stepped on it, shoving a dagger into the opening between the floor and the plate, nearly jumping out of her skin when the heavy stone block slammed into the ground and shook the entire place.
“So much for surprise,” Avlan commented, grinning.
The hall behind the stone held strange carvings that looked to represent a storm of some sort engulfing the chamber. At regular intervals stood stone representations of the figures that had been seen elsewhere in the complex, only some of them held ornate crystalline representations of vast buildings suspended on a play of air that seemed to rise from their outstretched hands. They were detailed to the finest degree and the troupe spent some time simply staring at them before reaching out to take them. When nothing happened, they breathed a sigh of relief and slid the figurines into pouches for safekeeping. Elluvan would want to see these…
The next chamber held a massive pillar. The air was chilly, and to the right lay more of the orange sludge from which the beetles had attacked previously. On guard, the troupe watched that direction and moved the other way, instead coming across a stone that had fallen from the ceiling in front of an alcove. Within could be seen several tools, including a pair of wands and a strange pair of goggles with several small glass insets that could be lowered into place over the eyes.
“Someone set off another trap,” Ielena said, eyeing the stone’s proximity to the tools. “Not very good at noticing these things, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Avlan commented, making a face as he considered dying beneath a ten tone stone block. Moments later, Ielena located a stud on the wall that caused the stone to retract into the ceiling, revealing the crushed skeleton of the unlucky explorer, still clad in shining silver chainmail. While the body was long gone, the armor glittered as if still new.
“Magical, no doubt,” Graven whispered, eyeing the armor.
“Didn’t help much,” Lauryl commented dryly.
Eyeing the stone that was now set evenly with the ceiling, the troupe divested the skeleton of it’s now-useless armor while Ielena looked over the tools and decided that one of the studs on the wall was in actuality the trigger to drop the stone. Removing the items carefully, they stepped away and then examined their finds. The wands were covered in odd scrollwork, and the goggles made it easier to see tiny items when the lenses were used. Deciding that they might help to find items like the studs and the trap trigger, Ielena slid them over her head while Graven and Lauryl each took a wand. They would have to find out exactly what they were later, when they could speak to someone who might know such things.
A private domicile, a workshop and a long abandoned toilet took up the other three chambers present, though the way into the workshop was covered in moldy piles of the orange goo. Coming too close was an effort as the air grew increasingly colder when approaching it. Deciding that there was little to be seen within, the troupe moved on, Graven mentioning that it was likely some form of mold that pulled the heat from the air to survive and that a magical cold attack might destroy it. Unfortunately, at least for the moment, there was no means of doing so, and they moved on.
Realizing shortly after that this was the extent of the chambers on this level, the troupe returned to the vault and rose back to the domed chamber, to continue their search.
“We’re still missing one of the lanterns,” Avlan commented upon their return. He eyed the short hallways with their glowing lanterns, now that they had lit them all. “If it is anything like the fresco in the hall above, there should be a red one in that one.” He pointed at the one hall that was still empty.
“We must have missed it somewhere,” Lauryl opined cautiously.
“Or it has been removed from this place,” Graven grumbled.
Ielena, in the meantime, had started investigating the other short hallways, wondering why they hadn’t produced the vaults they’d seen and used. She nudged a pile of broken bones near one wall with a foot, wondering where they’d come from. “Maybe if we push the sarcophagus around in a circle, it will make other options appear?” she called back, still listening to their conversation. She froze, staring upwards. Above the blue lantern, at the very edges of its faint light, she could see something. “Come here!” she called. “I think I found something!”
The others gathered by the blue lantern and looked up, their keen elven eyes picking out the opening in the wall far above.
“I’ll go up and see what I can find,” Ielena said. Without waiting, she grabbed the chain above the lantern and pulled herself up, starting to climb and using the thick links as footholds.
“Be careful,” Lauryl suggested.
“Always,” came the response. Forty feet up was a slender hall, heading into the darkness. Measuring the distance, Ielena leapt the gap between the chain and the opening and began moving down it, her keen elven eyes seeing in the faint light of the lantern and the others below. The passage went straight, disappearing into the darkness. She called down that she was going to look around a bit, but came back to the edge, looking down. “There’s some sort of face at the end of the tunnel,” she called. ”Weird.”
“We’re coming up,” Graven called back.
One by one, the others ascended carefully, Graven hooking a line to the edge of the hall so the others did not have to make the jump Ielena had. When they had all arrived, Ielena looked around in their light and noted that the walls and floor were scratched, as if something had been shoved down it forcefully.
“Someone must have moved something heavy,” Avlan considered, eyeing the scratches.
“Or someone might have slid along here,” Ielena said thoughtfully, reminded of the bones below. “Come on,” she suggested. “It’s down here.”
An enormous face, taking up the entirety of the wall at the end of the corridor, screamed out from the stone. Its expression was one of anger, its mouth opened in a horrific yell. It was discomforting to look upon, but what caught Ielena’s eye as they approached was the things eyes! Within loomed kaleidoscopic swirls of colors, predominantly red, but containing all the colors of the lanterns below. She pointed them out to the others.
“Likely a clue that the red lantern is still missing?” Lauryl said thoughtfully.
“Whatever it is, it looks like we have to…” Graven began, eyeing the face. He froze when the face suddenly began moving!
The eyes began to swirl, casting strange colors across the hallway; all the colors of the rainbow, tinged with red. A gust of wind began from the mouth of the thing…
“That can’t be good,” Avlan said, looking back along the hallway.
“What happened?!” Graven asked, looking around as the wind began to pick up speed, his hair blowing in the growing breeze.
“I don’t know! Get away from it! I think it’s supposed to blow us out into the passage with the chain!”
“What makes you say that?” asked Avlan.
“Broken bones against the wall,” Ielena replied, calling over the rapidly growing winds. “Get out of here!”
“Hurry!” Graven called, his hair flicking about his face now that the wind was picking up speed. It was tugging at their clothing, pushing them away from the wall. Turning, he ran with the wind, taking larger steps as the others followed. Looking back, he saw that Ielena was not there. “Ielena!”
“I’ll try to stop it!” the rogue called. She had pressed herself against one wall, out of the path of the mouth’s evocation of wind.
Graven reached the end of the hallway after Lauryl, who had been behind him when they’d turned to start running. Sliding to the end of the hall, she grabbed the rope and slunk over the edge, hanging near the wall as the wind started to pick up, flicking their cloaks about, the snap and crack of the fabric now obvious on the breeze. Turning, Graven looked back down the hallway, now coruscating with hypnotic light, the wind making his eyes fill with tears.
“Damnit,” he said, looking for Ielena in the mix. Turning away and leaving her to his fate, he steadied himself and then leapt for the chain. Avlan and Lauryl were not hanging on the rope and there was no room for him.
---
There are times in life when time seems to slow to a near stop. When seconds take hours and moments seem frozen. Everything around you seems to disappear into a tunnel focused only on that which you are striving for. The world could end and you would not know it, caught up as you are in achieving that one goal.
Such was Graven’s plight when he leapt for the chain…
And missed.
---
“GRAVEN!” Lauryl cried out as their companion flung himself off the edge, found himself pushed further than he’d expected by the gale force winds behind him, and flew past the chain, to fall to the ground so far below. The wind was filling the chamber, swirling about in gusts and eddies that moved even the bones on the floor below, the heavy lantern on its chain forced into motion despite the great weight of iron suspended from the ceiling. He landed with a crash and clatter that could be heard even above the roaring wind, but before Lauryl could consider whether he had survived, another figure was blasted out of the tunnel!
Ielena had slid on her backside down the hallway after trying to flatten herself out and avoid the worst of the storm. It had not worked, and eventually, she’d been flung to roll down the path toward the drop, that broken skeleton on her mind as her last effort to remove those glittering orbs from within the eyes of the stone face had failed.
They weren’t there to be grabbed. It was a magical effect that had defeated her. She cursed as she tumbled, finally getting a grip and able to sit down on the stone while the wind forced her along. When she reached the edge, she bunched her legs, pushed off with her hands, and leapt into the open air, aiming her mass at the chain dangling before her and clattering in the hurricane-force wind.
She slammed into it hard, nearly losing her breath as she scrambled for purchase. She slid several links before jamming a foot into a link and stopping herself. She hung and swayed as the breeze continued unabated, blasting her clothes, whipping her hair about until it stung her face. Between slit eyelids, she could see Lauryl and Avlan trying to make their way down the rope to safety below.
But there was no sign of Graven…
---
They hid from the windstorm behind the sarcophagus, Lauryl having scooped up Graven where he’d fallen, clutching what looked like a broken wrist. While the wind whipped about the domed chamber, she put a hand on her holy symbol, moved his badly angled wrist back into position with her other and whispered a prayer.
By the time the windstorm had died down, the bones had knit, and Graven’s wrist was as good as new.
“Praise be to Eilistraee,” he said softly.
“Praised be,” Lauryl said, smiling back.
When the windstorm died, it was sudden and absolute. No lessening of the winds, no slow let down as the power died out. It was as if someone had closed a door against the tempest, shutting it out of this realm as if it had never been.
“Wow,” Ielena said quietly, ears ringing against the blast.
“Wow indeed,” Avlan replied. Slowly, he rose and looked over the sarcophagus in the direction of the blue lantern, which still hung and swayed gently from side to side.
“We need that lantern,” said Graven. “If we have to revisit every chamber in this place, it must be here somewhere.
“Unless someone has already taken it,” Ielena offered.
“It’ll be here. If anyone had taken one, why didn’t they take them all?”
The others nodded and set off to start looking around. There had to be a reason for a trap of that magnitude. Whatever might lie beyond that wall had to be worth the expenditure to trap it the way it had been. The hunt for the red lantern was on!
After locating another vault that was apparently broken (it crushed anything placed in it) and turning the sarcophagus entirely around, the troupe realized that if the lantern was present, it was likely somewhere they’d been that they hadn’t explored fully. And there was one answer for that.
“We can dig up orange goop, or go swimming again,” Graven said, sighing. “Something that large has to be somewhat obvious.”
“If it was obvious, we would have found it in the orange goop earlier,” Avlan replied, nodding. “How far into the place did you get when you were underwater? Is it possible that there was more?”
Lauryl nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, he is right. We never tried the left side of the chamber, sticking to the right.”
“And we left after we… I… was attacked by the ghast,” Graven added, looking around at the others. “Hope you don’t mind swimming a bit more, Lauryl,” he said, smiling faintly. “Looks like we’re going to get wet.”
Lauryl smiled back, reaching up to push a lock of white hair out of her face. “Let’s just hope that there is nothing else down there that objects to our presence.”
It turned out that there was nothing else down there, though the red lantern was indeed hidden in the depths. A room looking much like a locker chamber held the sodden remains of another red-armored individual, lost to the ghast, telling by the way the bones of the skeleton had been ravaged. A rune-covered short sword of archaic design lay nearby and Graven swept it up as they left, offering it to Avlan when they returned. He was a dual-weapon fighter and he might find it interesting at the very least.
“Ta-daa,” Ielena said, smiling at the two as they returned. Climbing back up to the domed chamber, it was then another climb up to the face once the lantern had been hung and a torch hung in its holder. The face had no glowing eyes this time – in fact, it was gone!
In its place was instead a strange chamber with a slender walkway leading across an open expanse filled with small iron balls to an ornate metal door. The room was perhaps twenty feet from side to side, though much longer than that. The walkway, upon closer inspection was…
“Petrified wood,” Avlan commented, kneeling and looking at the beam. He eyed the expanse. “The stones are not so far below this beam. It might be possible to make our way over to the other side of the room and not worry about falling off.”
“I doubt that was intended,” Lauryl said softly. “Otherwise, what is the point of such a trap?”
“The red-armored ones may have found this chamber,” Graven replied. “Perhaps they set off whatever brought these balls to this chamber, filling it up somewhat. What is the purpose of a floor covered in iron balls?”
“To trip people, maybe?” Ielena offered.
“Combine the slender path with the balls,” Avlan said, eyeing the walls. “I’d be willing to be there’s some sort of trap here that blasts anyone who tries to cross the room on the beam. There was probably a deep pit here to begin with. Who knows how old this place is? The trap could have been set off who knows how many times since then?”
Graven nodded. “Excellent point. I think we should avoid the beam if possible.”
“You think?” Ielena said, sarcastically.
“Let’s keep moving. We haven’t come this far to start bickering,” Lauryl suggested quietly. “Ielena, see if you can make it to the other side of the room and determine if the door is unlocked.”
Ielena nodded and lowered herself off the beam onto the balls, testing her weight before moving slowly across the room.
“I will go with her,” Avlan said.
“Why? She’s the expert at this sort of thing,” Graven asked, watching Ielena move carefully around drifts of the iron balls.
“In case anything should attack while we are in here. I do not like the idea of her being on her own.”
“Chivalry?” Graven asked, smiling faintly.
“You could call it that. I prefer to think that she is an old friend and I would rather be nearby if anything should happen. We cannot exactly move easily across this chamber and having someone nearby to help out if something should happen would make getting her out of here that much easier.”
Graven nodded, impressed at Avlan’s depth of friendship. Ielena wasn’t a bad person. Just a little… chaotic… at times. Avlan’s friendship said much about her, even if their relations had been strained by recent events. He promised to speak with her and overcome their animosity.
Ielena was perhaps halfway across the chamber when she froze, arms akimbo to keep her balance. Turning sharply at the sound of Avlan’s drop to the balls, she held silent and still for a moment.
“What?” he asked, freezing in position.
She tilted her head, straining her senses. But whatever it was she thought she’d felt was gone. “Nothing. Let’s keep going, but be ready.”
A moment later, she felt it again, this time the feeling of vibration coming up through her feet. Something was moving inside the mound of balls. “Avlan, watch yourself,” she began to say…
And the balls around the heavier warrior erupted into a spray, clattering all around as a massive tube-like worm rose out of the surface of balls, four tentacles splaying about a mouth filled with gnashing teeth! Reaching for his belt, the ranger readied his weapons as the others reacted similarly.
Racing across the balls, Ielena could tell she would not make it in time. Before she could reach him, the thing lunged forward, wrapping its tentacles around his torso and burying its mouth against his chest. Avlan cried out in agonized and startled pain before being jerked physically off his feet and then slammed into the balls as the creature dove once more.
“AVLAN!” Ielena screamed. The crunch of his body on the rough iron floor was enough to tell her that it was not likely he’d survive such treatment for long, if he’d even survived the initial attack. “AVLAN!!”
Lauryl and Graven leapt off the beam, coming to his defense, albeit too late to do anything. Before they could even regain their feet, the vibrations in the balls ceased, and Ielena knew her childhood friend was gone. Ielena fell to her feet, staring at the place where the noble ranger had disappeared, tears starting.
“Awww, not prepared for that, were you now?” a voice said from above them all. Looking up, there was nothing to be seen. “Going to cry, little elf?”
Graven turned sharply toward the area the voice seemed to be coming from. “This is no time to be tossing jibes. Who, or what are you and where did you come from?”
“And why did you not help?” Lauryl asked softly, eyeing the empty space above them.
“You’re no fun,” the voice replied. A rush of wind was all that presaged the attack, and Graven froze, his eyes going wide as another presence suddenly forced itself into his mind and body. Despite his fierce struggle, the being took over, shoving him into a small corner of his own mind…
“It’s not for long, angry one,” the voice said, Graven’s eyes blinking as if seeing Ielena and Lauryl for the first time. “Wow… been a while…”
“Who are you?” Lauryl asked, a hand rising to touch the holy symbol at her chest. Nearby, Ielena ignored him for the most part, staring at the floor of iron balls and wondering where Avlan had gone.
“My name is Alastor Land,” Graven said in a strangled voice. “I was killed in here maybe twenty years ago, by the trap that shoots the balls. Your friend was right. One of them hit me in the head and that’s the last I knew of life.”
“Yet you are here,” Lauryl replied.
“Yeah, I am. Though I’d rather not be. I want to know what happened to my family. I want to be buried with them, like I should have been, in our family plot at the farm.”
“Farm?”
“My family are farmers, east of Diamond Lake. It is still there, isn’t it? Diamond Lake, I mean?”
“It is,” Lauryl said, nodding.
“Then my family’s farm should be there, too. I’ll tell you what. I know that the door on the other side of the room can’t be opened from this side, but that’s no problem for someone like me. I’ll open it for you if you agree to take my bones home and bury them in my family’s plot, where I would have gone if I hadn’t run away…”
Lauryl smiled sadly, eyeing Graven/the ghost. “You realize that the one you have possessed hates undead of all types and will likely wish to simply dissolve you into nothingness for this insult?”
Graven’s lips moved in a slack resemblance of a smile. “If he does, none of you will get past this room.”
“Cute,” Ielena said dangerously, rising from where she’d been until now. “So it’s blackmail. Where are your bones, so we can get this over with?”
Graven pointed. “There. A few feet down. There are others in here, two to be exact. I’ll point them out as well so you know I’m only doing this because I have no other choice.”
“Fine. Let our friend GO.”
After a strained look, Graven’s features relaxed and he shook his head, growling beneath his breath. “If you EVER so much as come close to me again,” he growled, eyeing the empty space around them. “Let’s get this done and find this damned farm!”
After visiting town once more to turn in their finds and identify exactly what a few of the magical items they’d located did, the troupe met in Lord Moonmeadow’s garden for a short ceremony. Each was dressed as best as they could afford, with Graven and Lauryl in their clerical vestments. Ielena had shed her skimpy leathers in favor of a luminescent gown of glittering black. Lord Moonmeadow and his lieutenants were present as well, to pay homage to Avlan, who had died while attempting to fulfill Lord Moonmeadow’s request.
It was a somber affair, made even moreso by the fact that there was no body. Avlan’s death had been gruesome, for certain, and as Graven and Lauryl took turns intoning the words that would grace their friend’s soul, Ielena found herself hard-pressed to avoid breaking down in tears.
They had grown up together in distant Celene, one of the few nations entirely run by her people. Avlan had been a constant companion from the time she could walk until now, having gone to the moots and celebrations, been educated at the same time, and having given her that all important ‘first kiss.’ His noble blood had never been a problem with their people, being more open-minded than most human cultures, though this was likely due to the fact that, while his family was noble, they were in no true position of power, and thus any marriage he might undertake at some point meant little to the true scheme of things.
By the time it was over, she was unable to speak and fled from the garden sobbing. The others watched after her, but chose to let her go, knowing she had to let it out, or risk letting it destroy her. That evening, everyone in the compound ate sparingly, listening for the soft sound of Ielena’s tears and relaxing only when they subsided into what had to be exhausted sleep.
---
The trio met once more in the morning, Ielena’s smile belying her red-rimmed eyes. Lord Moonmeadow had asked to speak with them, seeing them in his personal chambers. “Avlan’s loss is a blow to all of us,” he said quietly, eyeing Ielena in particular. “This duty I have sent you on through Isendur has cost you a friend and I am of the opinion that perhaps I should not ask you to continue…” He paused, watching them for a response.
“We must continue,” Graven replied quietly. “We have given an oath and it must be fulfilled.”
“I am releasing you of that oath,” Moonmeadow replied seriously.
“I understand, milord,” Graven replied, “but it is an oath not given to you.”
Their lord raised an eyebrow curiously. “To whom do you owe allegiance to, now, Graven, if not me?”
Lauryl smiled and took a half step forward. “He means that we have made a promise, Lord Moonmeadow. That is all. We must, however, fulfill this promise.”
“Indeed,” Graven added as Lauryl stepped back into line with the other two. “A young man died within the Cairn long ago and has haunted it since. It is his ghost’s request that we lay him to rest with his family. It is within my strictures that I must obey this request, though I daresay I do not appreciate the means through which it was delivered.”
Lauryl reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently as Moonmeadow eyed him.
“You do realize,” their lord said, “that I will not hold it against you should you choose not to do any of this. I can send Isendur to complete whatever promise you have made…”
“We would rather do it ourselves…” Graven said, but he was cut off by Ielena.
“We must do it ourselves,” she said, speaking for the first time since her arrival that morning. “If we do not, then Avlan died for nothing. I will not have that.”
Graven and Lauryl turned to look at her, surprised at the vehemence in her voice, if not at the sentiment. They had felt the same, but did not wish to voice it for fear of hurting her already damaged feelings.
Moonmeadow nodded. “Very well. Continue your duties to me, and know that you have earned my respect and trust for this. I had no intent of causing the death of one of you, and it grieves me to know that I am its source. Avlan was a good man.”
“He was,” Ielena replied. “And he would not have us quit on his behalf.”
“Then go. I will await your report when the job is done.” He eyed them all for a long moment before waving to let them know they could leave. As they did, he stopped them again with, “But… be careful.”
They affirmed that they would, and then set off once more.
---
Asking about town, the troupe found that the Land family had been dead for some time, having perished in an instance of the Red Death, a plague that nearly wiped out the small community twenty years earlier. Nearly at the same time as Alastor’s running away, the troupe wondered if his escape had anything to do with the plague, but had no way of getting any answers. A helpful local pointed out the path that would take them to the Land residence, and hopefully allow this particular chapter to come to a close.
It was not to work out that way, unfortunately.
The farm was in bad shape when they came across it, resting on a rise in a valley east of the town. Years of neglect had taken their toll on the place, and a crumbling wall and sagging porch made the old home look somehow sad. Broken windows let in the outside world and even the trees nearby looked weary from the state of the home.
But what truly caught their attention were the puddles of sludge and chunks of flesh lying about the porch and stairs leading to it. Something, or someone, had died terribly here, and not too long ago.
Without Avlan to investigate the source for them, the trio approached carefully and looked about, eyeing with distaste the remains of what must have once been a human or elven being.
“What could do this to a person?” asked Ielena, trying hard not to lose what little breakfast she’d eaten that morning.
“Something powerful, no doubt,” Graven replied. Stepping over the remains, he looked into the house itself, calling out to see if anyone was still present. The door looked like it had fallen long ago, and the interior of the home smelled rank with some foul stench that was not connected to the body parts strewn about. “There may be something in here,” Graven warned. “Be wary.”
Stepping over the fleshy chunks, the trio entered the home and began to look around. The floorboards creaked, and the wind blew in through the windows in a faint moaning sound. The air was stuffy with the stench of death and… something else…
They discovered it when Ielena turned the corner to look into the rear of the home and was sent flying toward the wall of the front of the house by a huge clawed paw. She crashed to the ground with an expulsion of lost breath and looked up in time to see an enraged creature standing nearly nine feet tall, covered in feathers and with a bird’s beak roaring toward her. It was injured, telling by the smears of congealed blood on its side, and its tiny eyes held no sign of intelligence, but malice.
Ielena scrambled to one side, avoiding another swipe of claws. Part of the ancient wall behind her was blasted out into the yard beyond by the blow, and the young rogue knew the blow would have killed her had it connected. Then, suddenly, Lauryl pounced onto the creature, her blade sinking deep into its side as it let out a blood-curdling howl of pain and rage. It belted her aside, sending her crashing into the floorboards, which creaked ominously as the thing moved.
Graven’s chain rattled out into the air, slashing across one of the creature’s feathered arms and catching before he pulled back, ripping feathers and skin, causing new wounds to open on the thing. Again it roared, pulling its arm back and sending Graven crashing forward as it swept its other arm around in a decapitating strike.
Ielena, recovered from her initial shock at the attack, yanked her rapier from its sheath and lunged, aiming for the beast’s chest. It struck the creature’s tough hide and held for a moment, the slender blade bending slightly before penetrating and slipping deep into the creature’s middle. Again, it roared, this time looking back into the rear part of the home before gurgling and falling backwards. Its immense weight crushed the floorboards, collapsing part of the wall behind it as it fell into the floor and stuck there, its massive claws gouging chunks out of the wood around it. Its beady eyes went slack and glazed over slowly in death.
“What the hell?” she asked, staring at it. “It’s half owl half bear!”
“An owlbear,” said Lauryl, waiting to make certain the creature did not stir again before moving to pull her blade from its side. Graven released his chain as she did and they began to look around.
“It was looking for something,” said Graven, eyeing the back part of the house. He started looking in the shadows, moving fallen pieces of wall out of the way as he went.
A strange clicking purr sound came from a point further in the place, and all three of them froze, hands going to their weapons before a tiny version of the giant creature shambled out of the shadows and looked up at them in confusion.
“Holy Seldarine,” Lauryl whispered, eyes going back to the creature. “It had a child… It was defending its home…” She lowered her eyes and whispered a soft prayer that the beast forgive them for their ignorance.
“Whatever it had, it dismembered a person,” Graven said sharply. “It was a menace to anyone who approached this place.
“Owlbears prefer forests,” Lauryl said thoughtfully, eyeing the creature. “Why was this one here, I wonder?”
“Does it matter?” Ielena asked, eyeing the small creature and kneeling before it when it continued to make its strange sound. “This thing won’t be able to survive without help, and we just killed its only source of help.”
“You can’t be thinking…” Graven asked, only to slap a hand to his forehead a moment later.
“We should take it with us!” Ielena exclaimed looking at them and frowning at his reaction. “We can’t just leave it here! We can find someone who can take care of it in town!”
“Maybe,” Graven replied. “And what if we cannot? Who are you going to take it to, anyway? The Emporium?”
The gaudy brothel and circus in the main part of town had a menagerie of sorts. A two-headed calf, a strange, misshapen contortionist and a ‘wild man’ who quoted philosophy were just some of the strange things that could be seen there. The creature might actually fit in.
“We could always see if that wizard might want it,” Ielena said. “And aren’t there nobles in Greyhawk who buy these things?” Her eyes lit up and she grinned. “They pay good coin for oddities like this…” She nodded at the creature and reached out to pat its head, only to pull back quickly when it took a snap at her fingers.
Graven considered a moment, eyeing Lauryl. “As long as we don’t keep it any longer than necessary,” he said. “We don’t exactly have the means to take care of an exotic pet like this. What are you going to feed it, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Ielena replied. “We can tie it to a tree somewhere and let it live on its own until we sell it.” She shrugged. “It will likely catch something if it gets hungry enough.”
“We had best bring it fresh meat if you wish it to survive,” Lauryl said, eyeing the bits and pieces of person spread about. “It obviously is a meat-eater…” She paused, eyeing one of the larger parts, which turned out to be an entire arm. There was a strange marking on one part. “What is this?” she asked.
“A tattoo,” Ielena said, leaving the beast for a moment and moving to kneel next to the remains. “Looks like a glyph or something.”
“Glyphs are used for either storing magic or identifying things or people,” Lauryl said, watching the little thing move to stand nearby. Seeing the arm, it trundled over and started to tear at the upper muscle. Graven nudged it aside with his boot, causing it to shriek at them and try harder.
“Memorize it,” he said as the thing moved past him and started gnawing on the arm. “I don’t’ think it will be around when we come back.”
---
It turned out the glyph was actually a marking once used by Garavin Vesst, the one-time owner of the very home the troupe was using as a home. Applied to everyone who worked for the ex-mine manager, it had disappeared for the most part when Smenk had run him out of town. There was only one individual in town who still bore such a mark out in the open, and he was not one to be trifled with. Kullen, the albino half-orc who hung out with his friends at the Feral Dog, had the symbol tattooed onto his face.
Outside the home, in a plot not far from the gate, were four opened graves and a broken shovel.
“Gone,” Graven said, his hands clenching in anger. “They have not only defiled the home, but have defiled their graves!”
“Why would anyone dig up graves?” asked Ielena.
“Foul necromancy,” Graven uttered, hissing.
“Necromancy?”
“They have taken the bones likely for use in dark magics,” Lauryl explained, staring at the open holes. There were four stones, one for each parent and two for the children. One had Alastor Land’s name on it.
“Necromancy is what I am sworn to defeat and destroy, Ielena,” Graven said, visibly shuddering as he fought to control his rage. “Those who came here opened the graves of the dead and dishonored their memory by stealing their bones for whatever foul magics they have planned.” He turned in the direction of Diamond Lake. “Kullen and his companions will die for this.”
“Come,” said Lauryl, reaching out to touch Graven’s arm. “At least we know where to find him.”
---
The Feral Dog was a popular destination for those who worked the mines on pay day. Drink was cheap, entertainment came in the form of dog fights in a pit in the back, and a miner’s pay could last an entire evening and throughout a good drunk. Those who passed out inevitably found themselves naked in the mud of the downtown square the next morning, so most made a point of coming with friends, if only so that they wouldn’t be left alone if they passed out in their cups. It was a dangerous place, with the occasional bar fight breaking out over some slight, imagined or real. Kullen and his gang of cronies ruled over it with an iron fist.
You did not talk back to Kullen when he said something to you. It was said his fists could punch through a wall, and the axe on his back was said to be able to cleave bricks.
Knowing better than to enter the Feral Dog, given that three dozen or more miners were out on payday that afternoon, the troupe decided to stop and eat, while watching the place to see when the big albino would leave. They were in for a long wait.
To pass the time, they talked about their past. But the one who kept their attention most was Lauryl, who told stories of growing up in the forests of Celene, learning the ways of Eilistraee from her mother. She had been taken prisoner during a raid by the Drow and enticed away from their dark and chaotic ways by Lauryl’s father. He was a High Elf and had come to understand Eilistraee when a single Drow woman had walked, unclothed and unarmed into his village, hoping to talk instead of fight.
She’d been taken prisoner, Lauryl explained, while the council decided what to do with her. Lauyl’s father was the one tasked with feeding and clothing the woman. During his infrequent conversations with her (through the locked door – he had grown up taught that Drow are dangerous murderers), he came to understand that she was unlike any Drow he’d ever been told of. Where they were depicted as cold murderers, she was warm, friendly and outgoing. Where he had been told they would take any chance to kill and escape when encountered, she seemed perfectly happy to wait for the council’s decision. When they decided to let her go and hear her out, he had escorted her to the council hall, listened to her calm discussion on the wonders of Eilistraee, the only god of the Drowic pantheon who sought peace, he had understood her purpose to be noble, and decided to follow her.
By the time Lauryl was born to their union, he had become the chief advocate for Eilistraee in the Surface World, explaining his wife’s presence and purpose, and helping with the management of a slowly-growing group of followers who sought through peaceful means to convert any Drow they encountered to the ways of the Dark Maiden.
It hadn’t always worked, of course. The Drow were, for the most part, exactly as Lauryl’s father had grown up hearing. Many of the Eilistraeen were murdered when they approached Drow under signs of peace. But a scarce few joined their number, and it was thought that the sacrifices were worth a few souls redeemed from Lloth’s embrace.
Lauryl had grown up surrounded by the love of both Drow and surface elves. She had learned the ways of the forest alongside the ways of Eilistraee. She had become an assistant to her mother, and once she had learned all she could about Eilistraee’s teachings, she told her friends, she had been sent into the world to spread the word that not all Drow are merciless killers, and that there are some who bear the dark skin of the Drow, who are worthy of calling ‘friend.’
“A fascinating tale,” said a young Human woman who had been sitting nearby, listening intently. She was clad in an ornate combination of silk scarves, tied across the important parts of her body and revealing more skin than most Humans considered acceptable. Her hair was straight, black, and long, nearly reaching to her knees. The trio had noticed her when they entered, but paid her no mind, caught up as she was in a large tome of some sort. “Would you mind sharing more at some point?” she asked.
Lauryl and the others turned to eye her curiously. “It is not so often that one finds a Human interested in the ways of the Drow,” Lauryl replied softly.
“I think,” the young woman said, smiling brightly, “that you will find that I am no normal Human.”
“I would say not,” Graven said, admiring her figure beneath the scarves. “That is certainly no normal outfit.” He smiled.
She smiled back. “I am called Celise,” she said. “And I have some interest in Elven culture and activities. This outfit is a gift from a friend and I wear it in her honor.”
“Some friend,” Ielena replied, appraising the human woman openly. Celise was bigger boned than the Elves, as was expected, but her features bore faint traces of a potential Elven heritage. Her figure was full but without fat, her stomach taut beneath the silks, her legs firm and shapely, and her face was heart-shaped, with expressive dark eyes and full lips that framed an attractive smile. Curious sandals covered her feet, allowing her skin to be shown top to bottom beneath and between the curious scarves she wore as an ensemble. It was very daring, and… “downright Elven, one might say,” Ielena commented, smirking.
Celise nodded her head and smiled. “I take that as a compliment,” she replied. “My companion married not long ago and this was her gift to me. It was made to fit my figure, but is a faithful recreation of an outfit she used to wear.”
“A good friend, then,” Graven said quietly. “But such an outfit is certainly not likely to handle the rigors of travel or even moving across Diamond Lake without being ruined?”
Celise waved a beringed hand in the air, grinning. “I have ways of dealing with such a thing.”
“Magic?”
“You could say that I am a specialist in many things of the Elven culture,” Celise replied, smiling attractively. “Magic and its uses are just a few aspects of it all.”
“That would be a spell book, then?” Lauryl asked, nodding at the book.
“No, I have no need for such things. It is a treatise on the nature of elves, written by a sage in Greyhawk. I am reading it to see if his thoughts coincide with my own.”
“Do they?”
“For the most part,” Celise replied, grinning once more. “He did not have personal experience speaking with Drow or those of Drowic descent, however. His work does not represent what you have been speaking of at all. I find that,” she leaned in to stare into Lauryl’s silver-blue eyes, “quite fascinating.”
Lauryl stared back for a moment and then turned away, smiling privately. Here was a perfect example of the types of people she had spent her days away from home trying to communicate with – those with open hearts and minds.
“If you do not mind,” Celise said, looking around the trio, “I would be most appreciative if I could spend some time with you, learning more about this ‘Eilistraee’ and goodly Drow?”
“You should be warned, then,” said Graven seriously. “We are about serious business and there is a potential for violence. Especially this eve.”
Celise raised an eyebrow. “I am always prepared for violence, good sir. We live in a violent world, do we not?”
Graven nodded grimly. “I am Graven, then,” he said. “This is Ielena, and your object of interest is Lauryl.”
Ielena smirked and offered a hand, which Celise took. Lauryl grinned faintly. “Object of interest is so… unappetizing, Graven,” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet one such as yourself, Celise. Well met, indeed.”
“Well met,” Celise said, releasing Ielena’s hand and taking Lauryl’s. Marveling at the touch of Lauryl’s hand and grayish skin tone, the sorceress momentarily forgot herself and let go only when Lauryl cleared her throat. “My apologies…”
“He moves,” Ielena said, her sharp senses catching sight of Kullen and his friends leaving the Feral Dog. It was late, as they had expected, and many were leaving the tavern at once. “We should be on our way.”
Graven began to stand. “It has been a pleasure, milady,” he said. “But now, we must away.”
“Away to where?” Celise asked, startled by their sudden activity.
“It is a long story. Suffice to say that we have reason to believe that the albino half-orc is a grave robber. I am sworn to Istus that I will bring those who defile the dead to their just reward, and so we go to give him what is coming.”
“Why not call the guard in on this?” Celise stood and began to leave with them, throwing a few silver coins to the bartender as they left.
“The guard are only present to protect the ore shipments. The sheriff cannot be expected to actually do his job without a few gold coins greasing his palms.” Graven smiled darkly. “I am anointed by my church to deal with such issues directly. We have no need of either of them.”
Celise looked uncomfortable. “That sounds remarkably like vigilante activity.”
Graven turned and eyed her. “You do not have to come with us. I did not say you were invited, did I?”
Lauryl stepped between them and broke eye contact, smiling at Celise. “I would be happy to speak with you further at some other point. Perhaps we can meet on the morrow for breakfast?”
Celise looked disappointed, but nodded. Behind Lauryl, Graven left the building. The one called Ielena was already gone into the night.
“Fate be with you,” she said, nodding.
“And with you,” Lauryl replied. Turning, she moved into the darkness of Diamond Lake’s central square.
A short time later, Celise moved as well, heading down the road she’d seen the trio of elves take in their quest to find Kullen…
Kullen was drunk, and it was good. Drunk meant that he didn’t think straight, which was also good. Thinking straight made him remember where he was from, and that was definitely not good. His time as a slave of Garavin Vesst had taught him that life is hard and then you die, unless you’re harder. So he became hard. When the opportunity came for him to show his hardness, he did so and was rewarded with a position of respect and authority. Too bad Balabar Smenk hadn’t let him personally kill Garavin Vesst. He would happily have done so, given the chance. As it was, he’d have to settle with knowing that it was his work that ruined the last several months worth of ore brought up from Vesst’s last mine.
Bad ore meant bad sales. Bad sales meant no income. No income meant no way to make payroll. No payroll meant no workers, and no workers meant no mine. In the end, Smenk was able to purchase the mine out from under Vesst for a pittance, and Kullen’s rise to power as Smenk’s number one lieutenant was secured.
Ever since, he’d done the dirty work for Smenk, planting evidence, ruining or making ore shipments to Greyhawk disappear on occasion. All so that Smenk could continue his rise in power and authority in Diamond Lake. After all, what Smenk enjoyed, Kullen enjoyed to a lesser effect. Therefore, what made Smenk big, made Kullen big, and that made Kullen happy.
Take this place, for example. The Feral Dog was a dunghole of a tavern. It had some of the worst food in town, but the liquor was good and the betting on the dog-fights better. He was the local taskmaster, declaring when the fights began and which dog won, throwing out anyone who argued otherwise, usually with a bash on the head for good measure. Too bad for them that they usually got rousted for all their coin while they were unconscious in the meantime. Shouldn’t have back-talked him.
But things weren’t always easy for Kullen, even working with Smenk. Vesst had made him forget what he was and what made him worthwhile. Vesst had tattooed him, made him bust his butt working in the mines, and gave him nothing for it. But then again, Vesst never made him work with scumbags who liked to dally with dead bodies and worse. This Filge character Smenk had him doing runs for was a mess. Not only had Kullen and his cronies had to move some damned heavy glass tube-like things up into the old observatory, but they’d been sent on a damned bone-collecting mission!
Kullen didn’t mind working with people. At least, with people around, he was the boss simply due to his size and strength. People respected that. But how in the hell was digging up bones going to help Smenk gain any more control over Diamond Lake, and why in the nine hells had Smenk hooked him and his gang up with this loser, anyway? Digging up bones was a scumbag’s job, not the heavy of Diamond Lake!
Kullen had drank quite a bit tonight and taken out his anger at being used this way on one of the gamblers who’d refused to pay up when his dog had gone down before the time limit on making good. Never mind that Kullen had set an impossible time limit to last for the old man’s mangy mutt. Everyone knew that a full minute wouldn’t be possible for the old cur, but that’s why the bets flew. Desperation breeds stupidity, and Kullen raked in the winnings from those stupid enough to have hope that the old dog might survive that long.
When it fell down with a broken neck from the war dog’s bite, the roar and screams had been deafening, and Kullen had made a killing. He’d then nearly taken the head off the old man, who started yelling about fixed matches and impossible time limits.
That had made him feel good. He was in a mood to bash things tonight.
So when the others decided they’d had enough and talked him into leaving, he’d agreed. The place was starting to empty anyway and the likelihood of anyone getting in his face for the rest of the night was not high. It was time to head back to Smenk’s place and pass out. He’d find someone to bash in the morning.
Only, part way home, Bask said he’d noticed something. In a foul mood and not wanting to put up with anything the spellcaster whined about, Kullen told him to shut up, but when he repeated it again, something about his expression told the albino half-orc that he was serious. Even through the alcoholic haze, Bask’s expression was concerned.
“What?” Kullen asked.
“Someone’s following us.”
“They are?” Kullen grinned dangerously. “Where?” He began to look around, but was stopped.
“Don’t. They’ll know we’re onto them.”
“So much the better,” Kullen growled, looking around.
Bask frowned. His expression took on a distant look – the one he always had when he was doing whatever it was that let him know what his damned familiar was up to. “It is an Elven woman. She seems alone.”
As they spoke, another Elf and his dark-skinned girlfriend passed, hand-in-hand. Kullen had seen them around town before. Worked for that slimeball Elf-lord, Moonmeadow. He hated them. They seemed to have the Elf-lord’s backing, though, so he’d never done anything to them. Why they were on the road to Smenk’s place was beyond him, however, and he put them out of his thoughts.
“Wait,” he said, something clicking in his ale-muddled head. “You said Elf?”
Bask nodded.
Kullen smiled, turning and watching the two disappear around the side of one of the buildings, the male pulling the female in for a tryst. He’d wanted to do some smashing tonight. Maybe they had reason to now.
After all, it wasn’t like there were that many elves in town, and for most of them to be on this street at this time, with one of them following them? Kullen smelled a rat.
“Get ready,” he said, reaching over and pulling Rastophan in close.
“For what?!” Rastophan said.
“Anythin’,” the half-orc replied. “Somethin’s up, and we’re gonna throw a wrench inta the works. Go look fer the girl.”
He started walking again, throwing Rastophan toward the shadows across the street. Picking up a bit on his stagger, he headed toward the corner the two elves had gone around, finding them making out in the shadows.
“Hey, Elfies,” he called, leering. “Long way from yer home ain’t ya?”
That’s when all hell broke loose. Bask started to cast a spell, likely to protect his dumb ass, when an arrow appeared in his throat. He dropped to the ground, gurgling as the spell failed. A yelp followed a moment later and a pale-haired Elf-girl hopped out of the shadows, Rastophan hot on her tail.
“Not really,” said the gray-haired elf male, reaching to his belt and unlocking a length of chain. It fell around his feet and his hands went to a pair of loops in the mess of iron. “We were just out looking for you.” The female produced a hand-and-a-half and Kullen could feel the burning of his blood starting to overtake the alcohol.
Roaring a war cry, he reached over his shoulder and pulled out “Baneblade,” the trusty axe Smenk had given him when he’d earned the right to call himself a lieutenant. Behind him, Todrik howled and the night was suddenly lit with fire. Ignoring them, Kullen sidestepped a slash of the chain, hammered his axe down into the chest of the grey-haired elf and took a slash of the female’s sword in exchange. The look on her face as the gray-haired male fell was worth it, and he swiftly rounded on her.
Behind him, another shout of agony could be heard and a moment later, he was nearly thrown off his feet as impacts like twin hammer blows slammed into his side and blasted the air out of his lungs. A moment later, an arrow buried itself in the muscle of his shoulder and he turned, foam starting at his mouth as he felt his control slipping into a red rage. Rastophan and Todrik were down in the street, along with Bask. The slender elf-girl and a human dressed in bits of cloth were standing over their bodies, the girl nocking another arrow while the human muttered and made magic-making gestures.
Turning back as the other female’s blade nicked his leg, Kullen threw the other girls to the back of his mind and concentrated all of his ferocity on the dark-skinned one. A single slash sent her flying backwards, to crash off the side of the building and fall to the ground. Rounding on the other two he prepared to lop them limb from limb…
And then felt his frothing blood simply disappear on him, the words of the dark-skinned elf behind him trickling through the air, to crawl inside his head and steal his energy away. Lowering Baneblade, he stared at the two who were approaching, wondering why he’d been angry to begin with.
In a matter of moments, the dark-skinned one had whispered a prayer of some sort, her hands flashing silver as the wound he’d dealt her closed. She repeated the effort with the male he’d taken down while he stood and watched, his breathing slowing until he stood there, docile and wondering why. The other two approached and kept ready to either cast or fire, as if he would simply lash out at them at any time.
“Drop your axe,” the arrow-wielding girl said. Not knowing why he didn’t feel like simply killing her with it, he shrugged and let Baneblade fall to the ground.
“Excellent,” the gray-haired male said, stepping to him and lashing out with his chain to lock it around Kullen’s throat. “Now, kneel!”
“Graven,” the dark-skinned female said between notes of her insidious song.
“KNEEL!” Graven repeated.
Not certain why the fellow was so angry, Kullen did as he was told. Having a chain with sharp points at your throat will tend to make you do whatever you’re told.
“You are a grave robber,” the male said. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t execute you right here and now?”
“GRAVEN!?” Ielena shouted, stepping forward. “What if he knows something?”
“What could he possibly know?” the one she called Graven asked, glaring at him. “Hmm, blasphemer? Have anything to say for yourself?”
The words of the spell finished and the dark-skinned one reached up to touch an image of an elf dancing before a full moon. A moment later, the symbol glowed again and the rest of her wounds disappeared as if they’d never been. Kullen stared in amazement.
“ANSWER ME,” Graven demanded. “Why did you go dig up the Land bones?”
“Land bones?” Kullen asked, wanting to shake his head as the spell faded and reality returned. Baneblade was too far away to reach, having been kicked there by the elf-girl. “What are you talking about? What did you do to me?!”
“We’re the ones asking the questions,” the one called Graven said threateningly. “If you want to live, you’ll answer them.”
Kullen looked up at him and snorted. “Ye’re dead. Smenk’s gonna have you flayed alive.”
“Smenk, eh? That who you work for?” Graven replied, smiling. He tightened the chain around Kullen’s neck. “Why did you steal the bones from the Land graves and what did you do with them?”
“Is that what this is all about?” Kullen asked, growling and smiling at the same time. “Ye’re upset ‘cause of a buncha bones? I knew workin’ fer that slime bag necromancer was gonna come to no good…”
“Necromancer?” Graven looked like he’d been cross-checked by an ogre. His eyes unfocused, but when they cleared again, there was a murderous rage in them. “You were working for a necromancer?”
“Smenk tole us to,” Kullen said, recognizing that his life might just be on the line now. “Some guy named Filge, from the Free City, so I heard. Smenk put him up in the observatory and set me and me boys to grunt work for him.” He looked in the street and saw that the other three were lying still. He looked up into the one called Graven’s eyes and smiled, refusing to be cowed, even if this was going to be his last night on Oerth. “If’n ye see him, tell ‘im Kullen sends his regards. I’d personally like ta see his eyeballs on a silver platter if I can get ‘em…”
“That can be arranged,” the elf-girl said.
“We do not negotiate with blasphemers,” Graven growled.
“We do not kill in cold blood, either,” the dark-skinned woman replied.
“What?” Graven turned to look at her in surprise. Kullen watched the human woman, memorizing all of their features in case he lived through this. This wouldn’t be the end of it, even if they did let him go. Especially if they let him go.
“Let’s strip him and leave him behind the Feral Dog,” the elf-girl suggested, grinning. “He does that to his victims all the time!” She glanced aside at Celise, who had shown up and cast a few spells that had saved her life and likely not helped Kullen’s situation any. She alone was responsible for the glaive-wielding fighter’s death, roasting him in conjured flames that had spiraled forth from her hands when she’d called for it.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Long story,” Celise answered. “Later.”
“Nah, I don’t. That was Todrik’s idea,” Kullen said, growling at her. The chain around his neck tightened and he gasped for breath suddenly.
“He is guilty of grave robbery,” Graven rasped at the dark-skinned one.
“And for that, he will answer. But we are not executioners. I disabled him. You got your answer. Let him go.”
“Yeh,” Kullen said, trying again.
Graven tightened the chain and glared at him. “You, shut up. You’re lucky I don’t just lop off your head right now.”
“You will not,” said the dark-skinned one. “You got what you needed. Now, we leave.”
“Leave him? I think not,” said Graven.
“I don’t care what he is guilty of,” the dark-skinned one said in a hard voice. “You will not murder him when we have him disabled and at our mercy. If you do, you prove that you are no better than he is.”
Graven growled, looked down and saw Kullen grinning at him, and slammed a fist into the side of the albino half-orc’s head. Dazed, oxygen-starved and docile thanks to the spell Lauryl had cast upon him, he went down in a heap and lay there.
“Fine,” Graven said, glaring at them all. “But this is not over. We take his axe and we leave him here. The Feral Dog is too far away to drag him and I don’t feel like being seen by anyone who happens along.”
“No one will do anything,” Ielena said, grinning. “It’s Kullen, after all. He deserves it, if you listen to half the miners in town.”
“That’s as may be,” Lauryl said placatingly. “But we do not have the mercy of time. He will not stay unconscious for long, and I for one would much rather avoid paying any bribe should we happen upon the sheriff or one of his men.”
Graven looked down at the big half-orc. “We will hear from him again because of this. Mark my words.”
“I am sure we will,” Lauryl replied evenly. “And when we do, we will meet him with whatever he brings against us and we will prevail. We may defend ourselves, Graven, but we are not murderers.”
Graven muttered curses under his breath and pulled his chain away, looking up toward the observatory. If he was careful, he could just pick out the gleam of light from the supposedly abandoned building’s windows. A necromancer in the observatory, eh, he considered, grinding his teeth.
“Your days are numbered,” he said to the otherwise dark shadow of the building.
Wow! Great narrative! I look forward to more!
Wow! Great narrative! I look forward to more!
YAY! Someone is reading this!!
Critiques are welcome, as are your impressions on the character development of the heroes. This isn't an exact translation of how things happened. I'm taking some liberties with the characters to make them more interesting in a literary format. Some of the backgrounds weren't given to me for the campaign, so I'm generating them for my players as I go.
Syrinx
Kullen awoke with a splitting headache, a trickle of water running down his cheek and into his ear. Snorting and jerking away from the sensation, he sat up and looked around. He was lying in the dirt next to a house. It was dark and his throat hurt. Reaching up to massage it, everything came crashing back.
“Damnit,” he muttered, eyeing the lumps in the street that were all that was left of his three friends. He looked around for Baneblade and saw that it was gone as well. “So, yer thieves as well as ambushers,” he muttered to the missing elves. “Ye’ll get yers,” he said. Rising from where he sat, he moved to his companions and looked them over one by one. Todrik had been fried. Rastophan had been run through. Bask still had the arrow lodged in his throat. Their things had been rifled through. Kullen felt the rage start in his chest and forcibly held it down. “Ye’ll get yers,” he repeated.
Straightening painfully now that all the injuries he’d taken in the fight had added up on him, he glared at the observatory on the hill in the distance and hoped Filge got what was coming to him. It was his fault this had happened. Kullen had picked the Land residence because it was so far out of the way. The Cult of the Green Lady had the boneyard locked up, so he’d been forced to poke around the hinterlands of Diamond Lake to find what the necro had wanted. Even that hadn’t kept his friends alive.
He spat in the dirt, wiped his mouth, and headed off to tell Smenk. The boss wouldn’t like this, but there wasn’t much Kullen could do about it right now. Filge had his own issues to deal with, and Kullen had told the elves what he had just to keep his head on. If that one angry fellow had been allowed his way, even that wouldn’t have happened.
Kullen smiled. He sensed something of a kindred spirit in the gray-haired one. There was a deep and abiding anger in him, something they both kept locked up and only let out when the time came. If he hadn’t already sworn to himself that the gray-haired elf’s head would adorn Smenk’s front gate, he might actually find a reason to like the guy.
Growling at one of the guards when he asked why Kullen was home so late, he entered Smenk’s residence and found his room. He’d tell Smenk about the situation with Filge in the morning. For now, he needed some rest.
If the elfies attacked Filge tonight, then he deserved what he got.
---
“You don’t think we should rest before heading up there?” Ielena asked, struggling to keep up with Graven and Lauryl as they headed uphill. Celise was still with them, and she too, seemed confused.
“While a necromancer lives in this town, I will not rest,” Graven said, turning and looking over his shoulder. “You do not have to attend me in this, but I am not stopping until he is dead. Besides, we did not capture him the way I would have suggested. At this moment, he is likely telling Smenk about our plans to kill the necromancer and having reinforcements sent. If we wish to accomplish this, it will have to be done tonight.”
“Bit single-minded, isn’t he?” Celise asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You have no idea,” Ielena replied.
“We will be fine, Ielena,” Lauryl offered. “Kullen and his cronies were little challenge and Eilistraee is still with us.”
“I don’t know,” the elf-girl replied uncertainly. “It doesn’t seem like you should be able to do what you did back there all night long.” She referred, of course, to Lauryl’s healing of the wounds they had received. They had looked nearly mortal and yet now all that was left was the torn links of their armor. Graven’s shirt hung open and exposed, his chest visible beneath it from the great blow Kullen had laid upon him. The axe that had done so hung from Graven’s back, slung behind his pack so that the blades kept it straight. The weapons and equipment the troupe had determined were of any value were spread out among their packs and pouches; the spoils of war.
“Do not worry,” Lauryl said, smiling. “The Dark Maiden favors us.”
“Why exactly are we chasing after a necromancer, anyway?” Celise asked.
“He has the bones of a family we are sworn to bury with a lost son,” Graven replied flatly. “More than that does not matter.”
“Does not matter?” Celise replied, quirking a brow.
“It is a long story,” Lauryl interjected, smiling. “Suffice to say that, in order to accomplish something else, we must do this, as a favor.”
“And what about you?” Graven asked, turning to look back at Celise. “You were not invited on this mission. Why did you follow us?”
“I wanted to see how Elves fight,” Celise replied with a shrug. “I got my wish.”
“She also saved my life,” Ielena put in for her. “She distracted the one fellow while I dealt with another.”
“Then we owe you a debt,” Lauryl said.
“Paid in full if you will let me accompany you,” Celise replied. “As it is, Kullen will remember my presence with your band and if I am alone, I will now be an easy target.”
“Safety in numbers,” Ielena said, nodding.
“I suppose that answers my question, then. Welcome aboard,” Graven growled. Turning off the main road, he followed a path that lead toward the observatory atop the highest hill in Diamond Lake. Below them, the town was laid out toward the lake itself, glittering in the twin moons of Oerth. Were it not for the fact that a necromancer responsible for the upheaval of bones once buried and the fact that, even now, Smenk’s men might be organizing to come and stop them, it would have been a pleasant sight.
---
Approaching the tower, they saw that there was only one approach. A slender trail led around the side of the hill to the summit, where a tall staircase led to a single door of carved bronze, made out to look like the moon and several planets. Beneath was a storage closet. Ielena moved to investigate this before heading to the door itself.
What followed was a scuffle with a tiny mote of dirt and dust that flew about and bit at anyone who approached it. Ielena was bit several times and Graven had to come to her assistance, but it was finally destroyed. Within was little more than a gardener’s closet.
“What in the Seldarine was that?” Ielena asked, favoring a bleeding bite mark on one arm.
“Tomb mote,” Graven replied. “Magical messengers employed by those who favor the undead over living beings. As if we needed any more proof, I know now that Kullen was not lying.”
After checking the front door to see if it was trapped, Ielena popped the lock and the troupe entered.
The room inside was dark, unlit save for a distant torch down a hallway beyond the entry chamber. From first glance, it looked like it had once served as a barracks of some sort, but that was all they got. Almost immediately, crossbow bolts twanged out of the darkness at them, clattering off the walls to either side of the doorway, one of them making a dull clang as it struck the door behind Ielena. Visible just behind an upturned bed were the red-glowing eyes of animated skeletons, reloading and readying to fire again!
Lauryl wasted no time, stepping past the others and pulling her symbol of Eilistraee off her chest. “In the name of the Dark Maiden, I bid you begone!” she declared, brandishing the silvery symbol. A flash of silver light exploded from between the bones of the skeletons and they fell to the ground as one.
“Nice,” Ielena said, nodding as she stood from where she’d ducked. “Have to learn how to do that.”
“You must first come to understand Eilistraee,” Lauryl replied calmly, laying the symbol back against her chest reverently, “and with that, her hatred of things unnatural, like the undead.”
“It would seem Eilistraee and Istus have that in common, at least,” Graven said, stepping into the room and looking over the upturned bed. “How many coppers do you bet that these are some of the bones we are looking for?”
“Too easy,” Celise said, shaking her head and stepping inside. Looking around, she added, “how many sets of bones are you looking for?”
“Four,” Graven said quietly. “There are three here. The fourth must be elsewhere.”
“Then we keep moving,” Ielena said, taking the lead, but moving slowly when it came to corners and turns. “Keep quiet, if you can. Your armor is more than enough to hide my movements, but you’ll be heard a mile away if you don’t slow down.”
“We’ll do our best,” Graven replied in a droll tone.
---
Great stuff, Syrinx! I'll keep an eye on this thread.
The main hall of the tower held a macabre sight. Zombies sat around a table laden with food while a cheery fire burned in the fireplace. Deigning not to deal with them when they did not react to their presence, the troupe headed upstairs, locating Filge’s bedroom. If the statue of a man in an angelic pose labled “Filge” sitting at the top of the stairs did not speak toward his insanity, the decapitated head of a woman sitting on a silver platter held by a mummified Halfling did.
“You think he’s a little loopy?” asked Celise, eyeing the statue while Ielena ghosted around the room looking at things.
“He is a necromancer,” Graven muttered. “They are all worse than insane.”
The chamber was a mess, with an entire table covered with alchemical ramblings and a rack of disgustingly-colored, syrupy potions inside what appeared to be syringes. A large, comfortable bed, a chest with personal effects and a closet filled with identical jackets took up the rest of the chamber.
Graven looked up the flight of stairs that led to the old observatory’s dome chamber. “He will be up there, of course. Under the open sky…”
His words were cut off when a figure appeared at the top of the stairs, paused and then began to shamble down toward them. A zombified corpse of a troglodyte, its normally rubbery green skin was grayish and hung in loose folds around its skeletal structure. It’s eyes were missing, and instead of the milky white orbs such creatures normally bore, there was a sickly green light glowing within.
“BACK, creature of the depths!” Graven called, reaching for his symbol of Istus hanging on his chest. “Turn away!”
The creature came on, stumbling down the steps in a mockery of a run even as the others produced weapons to fend it off. Above, a hawk swung over the opening to the upper floor, shrieking its warning to the necromancer. Moments later, a crazed voice could be heard shouting.
“AWAKEN, my beautiful monstrosities! Destroy! Rend!”
The explosive sounds of glass filled with liquids could be heard, followed by muttering that sounded all too familiar.
“He is casting his spells in preparation for us!” Celise called. Ahead of her, Graven and Lauryl were trying to hold the creature on the stairs, keeping it from getting close to Ielena and their new companion. Graven was bleeding from a solid blow to his head, while Lauryls ripped armor had already failed to stop a squishy punch that had left stinking fluids on her chest. The creature already sported several arrows from Ielena’s quiver, but it showed no sign of stopping.
“Lauryl!” Ielena called. “Call your goddess!”
Nodding, Lauryl stepped back while Graven tried to defend the wide stairwell. Even as she spoke the words to call upon the blessings of her goddess, another, wide figure appeared at the top of the stairs and began heading slowly down. This time, a bugbear, its face frozen in death, dripping slime and ooze from whatever suspension it had been kept in. The smell of vinegar and death began to filter into the chamber.
With a flash, Lauryl’s holy symbol of Eilistraee lit up the room, but this time, rather than the silvery essence bursting out of the monsters, nothing happened!
“By all the luck,” Graven growled. Swining his chain back up behind his head and around, he brought it down into the side of the troglodyte’s head, buckling the bone and causing a huge amount of black-green goop to trickle out and splatter on the thing’s shoulder. The head fell sideways from the impact, but it continued to come on.
“The knees!” Ielena yelled, firing at the creature’s shoulders and jamming its attempts to swing its club-like arms. “Cut it off at the knees! It can’t fight if it can’t stand!”
As Lauryl returned to the combat, her bastard sword lopping off one leg at the knees, the bugbear reached the conflict and weighed in. A moment later, a greenish beam of light appeared from above, striking Celise in the chest and causing her to gasp in pain as acid sizzled into her breast. Above, Filge the necromancer stood with a gnarled-looking skeleton, cackling with glee as yet another bestial zombie approached the stairs.
“Invade MY home, will you!?” he yelled, giggling as he started in on another spell. “You’ll die for it instead!”
Despite her pain, Celise recognized the words of his spell and spoke to countermand it. When he again pointed her way, this time the spell had no effect, leaving the necromancer momentarily staring at his hand when nothing happened.
Below, Lauryl shoved the now-teetering troglodyte, causing it to fall against its companion and sending them both tumbling over the edge of the stairs, to crash into the table covered in documents below. With a shuddering crash, the table collapsed beneath their combined weight, and the path was open!
Charging forward, Lauryl rested her hand against her holy symbol once more, uttering the words to turn the skeleton at the top of the stairs while Celise let loose with another gout of flame that lit the struggling zombies on fire. The skeleton fell apart, splintered by the silvery radiance of Eilistraee’s blessings, and she and Graven charged forward, wrapping his chain around the third zombie’s head and ripping it off moments later. Lauryl’s sword put an end to its movement seconds after that. Below, Ielena pulled her rapier and began to hack at the hamstrings and joints of the zombies even as they tried to stand once more.
Filge fled across the upper chamber, jabbering at himself that this was impossible and that he had been told such things could not happen. Muttering arcane words and making the odd gesture, he tossed spells after the two elves even as he ran behind tall shelves filled with alchemical equipment and fled around a large steel table centered in the dome and holding the flayed body of a blue-skinned being.
“BLASPHEMER, YOU SHALL DIE!” Graven roared at the obscenity of what had been done. Slipping on the sludgy floor near a pair of broken glass cylinders, he gave chase while Lauryl tried to get a hold on what was happening.
The chamber was a dome, with a large slit where the observatory’s magnifying glass once must have rested. Where the structure that supported it had once stood were several stone pillars in a square pattern, around which Filge had arranged his alchemical laboratory. The metal table looked as if it had been forged from the remains of anything iron in the chamber and must have been made for such chirurgery. Blood channels led from a body-shaped depression, with a variety of bottles and pans set to catch the blackish blood.
Eventually, as had to occur, Graven captured Filge behind one of the shelves. Evading the shelf as the necromancer shoved it over in his direction, he lashed out with his chain, connecting with the black wizard’s head and knocking him unconscious. Stepping immediately over him, he began to wrap his chain about the man’s neck and squeeze…
“Graven! We need him alive!” Lauryl said, drawing a snarl from the Istusan priest.
“Not this time, Lauryl,” he grated. “This man is a bane against all living beings! You saw what he’d created in this place!”
Lauryl reached out to put a hand on his as the smell of burning began to rise from the stairwell. Celise’s continued efforts to burn the creatures below had finally taken effect, with the added issue that now some of the chamber was aflame. Ielena could be heard shouting to put it out.
“He may have information we need,” Lauryl replied softly. “I am not standing in the way of justice, Graven. You are right and he should be destroyed. But we should see if we can learn anything from him before you simply kill him.”
“What more do we need to know?” Graven hissed back, barely restraining his urge to simply strangle the wizard lying helplessly in his arms. “He works for Smenk. He created those… those… abominations! He told Kullen to go and steal the bones of the Land family and cursed them with undeath!? Is there anything more you feel we need before justice is served!?”
Lauryl eyed him for a moment, questioning her own logic. “Very well, then,” she said, turning away.
A moment later, the snap of bone and the clatter of the chain spelled the end of Filge’s life. When she looked back, Graven was smiling a dark smile before closing his eyes and beginning a prayer to his goddess. As he spoke, he seemed to calm himself, and by the time he was finished, he seemed quite calm again.
“We’d better get downstairs and help them with the flames,” Lauryl said, eyeing the flickering light on the stair wall. “If not, we may not have a way back down…”
Wow! Great narrative! I look forward to more!YAY! Someone is reading this!!
Critiques are welcome, as are your impressions on the character development of the heroes. This isn't an exact translation of how things happened. I'm taking some liberties with the characters to make them more interesting in a literary format. Some of the backgrounds weren't given to me for the campaign, so I'm generating them for my players as I go.
Syrinx
So far, it's pretty good. I'm working on a similar, perhaps more ambitious project for an on-hold homebrew campaign, and finding that to make it into good fiction (rather than just a novelized D&D adventure) I've got to cut out a lot of rooms and encounters, not to mention side-quests only peripherally related with the main plot, make room for lots of character and world development, and generally the novel is coming out quite a bit different from the campaign--not in broad outline, but certainly in detail. Not sure it will turn out really worth reading--it's a challenge.
I've opted for a less taxing "journal" approach in my campaign log for AoW on this site, which I hope to begin updating soon to reflect another flurry of activity.
“Put it out! You’re burning information we might need!”
“I’m trying! Use the blanket!”
“Don’t you have some spell to make it go away!?”
Lauryl and Graven descended the stairs to pandemonium. Celise’s flaming assault on the zombified guardians had succeeded in destroying them, but their initial fall from the stairs had shattered the desk below. That desk was now aflame, along with all the documents and paperwork on it, alongside the burning corpses. Celise was trying to use the cover of what they assumed was Filge’s bed to smother the fire while Ielena looked around for some means of pouring water on it.
“Allow me,” Lauryl said, moving to stand beside the flickering desk and beginning a prayer. Reacing out, she held her hands together, pointer fingers and thumbs linked into a large opening. As she finished the incantation, water appeared to pour from between her fingers, splashing across the burning ruins of the desk and putting the flame out. When there was naught but smoke left, she broke the circle of her fingers and the water ceased.
Ielena stared in amazement. “How in the…?”
Lauryl smiled faintly. “How do you think we make holy water?” she asked simply, grinning.
“Neat trick,” Celise asked, staring admiringly at the half-Drow. “Can you teach it to me?”
“As I have said to Ielena, Eilistraee’s blessings come from an understanding of the Dark Maiden. Unless you were to focus on the Dark Maiden entirely, I do not believe she would grace you with such things willingly.”
Celise smiled faintly. “Ah well, a pity. Such a blessing might be useful from time to time.”
Laury’s grin turned into a smile. “As it did just now, yes?”
“Indeed,” said Graven. He knelt by the smoking ruins of the bodies they’d destroyed and poked around in the sodden mess of the desk. “Unfortunately, such a blessing also managed to ruin those documents that the fire had not eaten already.”
“You said yourself that there was no more evidence necessary,” Lauryl bit back. “What more would you hope for?”
“I should like to know what was inside these,” Graven replied, lifting a broken vial with an odd syringe-like ending.
“Oh, those?” Ielena said, reaching into her side pouch and producing two of them. “I pulled them off when it looked like we might not be able to save them from the flames.” She grinned sheepishly. “Never know when they might come in handy. Where’s Filge, anyway?”
“He’s dead,” Graven replied simply. “Sent to his just rewards, no doubt.” He eyed the ruined desk and then looked at Ielena. “Anything else you found that you mind sharing with the rest of us?”
Ielena shrugged. “The desk was crushed and on fire, Graven. There’s only so much I could grab.”
“Just making sure.”
Ielena’s expression turned dark. “Have I ever taken anything and not told the rest of you about it? Are you implying that I am a thief?”
Graven replied evenly. “I don’t know. Have you?”
Ielena tossed the vials to him and blew out through her nose. “You have a serious problem with me, don’t you.” she asked, glaring at him. “No, I’ve never taken anything and not told you about it. You have my word on it, if that means anything to you.”
“It does,” Graven replied, nodding.
“Good, ‘cause you’re not going to get it again about this.”
As Celise watched in consternation, Lauryl spoke up. “Now is not the time for this, but I believe you have made your point, Ielena. Graven, you really should give her the benefit of the doubt. I believe everything she tells us and have never had reason to doubt her. You are too hard on her.”
Graven looked aside at Lauryl for a moment and then sniffed faintly. “Perhaps,” he said. “I am sorry I have caused offense, Ielena. It is just that… your style of doing things is entirely different from anything I have ever had to deal with before. I… do not know what to make of you at times.”
Ielena frowned. “Get used to it. I don’t like to be pegged down. That doesn’t mean I’m not doing everything I can to carry my weight around here, and I don’t need your crap!”
Graven nodded once more. “Understood.” He turned back to the sodden mess. “Is there anything else in here that might serve us when it comes to learning just why he was called here? Kullen said Smenk had asked him into town, did he not?”
“He said something about Smenk putting him up in this place. I do not know if Smenk called him here.” Lauryl replied.
“Why would he go to the trouble of putting him up in this place, giving him Kullen’s band to work with and allowing him to go tomb robbing if there was no purpose to his presence?” asked Graven thoughtfully.
“Might this help?” Celise asked, picking up a sheaf of papers and the book beneath it. It had been sitting on a stand near the bed, forgotten in the effort to put the fire out. She offered the documents to the others while examining the book. “It is a spell book,” she said. Examining it to see if it was magically trapped, she flipped the cover open and began skimming the pages moments later. “Quite the selection, too,” she said, grinning.
“Interesting,” Ielena said, skimming some of the sheets she’d collected. “Here’s a letter from someone signing off as ‘S’ asking him to come into town. It says something about the Dourstone Mine and mentions ‘unkillable zombies’ and green worms. And yes, he brought him here, so long as this ‘S’ is Smenk.”
“That would make sense,” Lauryl said, shaking the papers in her hand. “These look like the ravings of a madman. There’s little of use, save a reference to something called ‘Necroturgons’ and using them in a syringe to gain special abilities.”
“The syringes,” Graven said, hefting one of them and looking inside the yellowish liquid. “Some research he was doing… Dead bodies, undead creatures, and ‘necroturgons.’ Quite the freak.”
“Did you look around much upstairs?” Ielena said, offering the pile she’d taken back to Celise, who slid the papers into the book for safekeeping. “Maybe there’s more clues to what he was doing there?”
“Well, there’s the matter of the flayed body on the table,” Graven drawled.
Celise’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Graven nodded with his chin toward the stairs. “Take a look. Though mind the back of the dome. It’s rather messy there.”
Ielena eyed him for a moment and headed upstairs. In the back of the dome, where Graven had given warning, lay the body of who she assumed must be Filge. His head was turned almost entirely backwards on his neck, looking at the ceiling while his body lay face-down on the ground. Yellowish muck had splattered across the floor around four large tubes. The body of one of the undead things lay near the top of the stairs, its head ripped off and a massive gash through the center of its body showing how it had come to its end.
The upstairs area was made into a strange laboratory, centered on the table, she saw. A blue-skinned creature lay on the metal table, its skin peeled back and held that way with iron clamps. Around it stood shelves filled with all sorts of odd things, from floating eyes to loops of intestines, to… a strange segmented green worm…
“Hey!” she called, staring at the worm. “I think I found something!”
The others came up shortly after, Celise throwing up quietly in a distant part of the dome when she saw Filge lying on the floor. Ielena offered the bottle with the worm in it. “Think this might be what he was here to investigate?”
“Could be,” offered Graven.
“There are books here,” Lauryl said from the other side of a shelf. Going around the other side, the others saw her holding up a journal, plucked from a row of journals. Each was labeled in gold ink with the names of undead. Scanning them showed that they were full of details about the things – particularly, how to make them.
“Burn them,” Graven said, throwing his back to the table.
“Wait.” Lauryl held up a hand. “This is a journal about the worm, I think.”
Filge’s writing was neat and simple, though occasional laced with unusual letters that told more about his unusual mental state than what he was trying to say at the moment. In simple terms, it mentioned that the green worm he had received from Balabar Smenk was from the Dourstone Mine and very rare. Obviously dead, at one point, however, it had been inside a powerful undead creature known as a ‘Spawn of Kyuss.’ The notes went on to state that it was Filge’s opinion that such creatures must have, at some point, existed or still exist in the mine where Smenk had found it and were a serious danger – if they got inside a person, they could turn a living being into the undead within 24 hours.
Also according to the notes, Filge was highly interested in getting some live specimens, possibly in the effort to create more of the creatures for his own use.
Celise looked as if she might be sick once more. “An undead-making worm? How disgusting.”
“If you wanted more reason to kill him,” Graven said, eyeing Lauryl pointedly, “that is all we needed.”
“I did not argue with you, did I?” Lauryl replied evenly. “Now, the question is, what do we do next? And should we follow up on this mention of unkillable undead?”
“I don’t know,” Graven acknowledged, thinking quickly. “For now, I think it might be best if we destroy the creatures and this laboratory so that no one else can lay claim to it. They need to be cleansed anyway, and fire is the ultimate cleanser.”
Ielena looked up at the opening in the ceiling. “Any fire we set in here will be visible in town.”
Graven smiled darkly. “Excellent. Let Smenk know that we are onto him. If Kullen hasn’t already, that is.”
“Speaking of Kullen,” said Celise, “shouldn’t we be on our way from here?”
Graven looked around. “After we clean this place, if no one has come calling, I suggest we spend the night in the first room we found. In the morning, we can go bury the Land bones and then explain our findings to Moonmeadow. Perhaps he will know what to do.”
“Agreed,” Lauryl said.
Without further argument, they set about dragging the corpses upstairs, including those sitting around the dining room table below and, with a liberal splashing of formaldehyde, lit the entire chamber to burn it clean.
Chapter Five (wait, there are chapters!?)
Alastor Land and his family’s bones were interred early the next morning, as the sun rose. The troupe rose early to make it for the sunrise, and buried them as best they could, the bones having gotten jumbled together in the haste to gather them all. Graven uttered prayers calling for the protection of Istus against their graves ever being desecrated again, while Lauryl called upon the Dark Maiden to protect them and bear the news that their bones had finally been interred and sanctified after their dark use. After burying the remains, the troupe headed to town once more, to report their findings to Lord Moonmeadow.
“You do realize that you are involving yourselves in this mor-seelie town’s politics, don’t you? Something I have managed to avoid since my arrival?” Elluval Moonmeadow eyed them across his desk, rolling a glass of brandy around as he watched them. They were in his personal offices in the estate, having reported their findings and their thoughts on who was responsible for it all. “Balabar Smenk has, at times, blackmailed, threatened and openly acted against those who might consider him a threat. Garavin Vesst was run out of town after he mentioned in public that Smenk was a liar and a cheat. You are staying in that man’s house, are you not? Such is the record of success in acting against him.”
“So, you would rather he be left alone?” asked Graven. “Able to investigate this unkillable undead by using a necromancer who has every reason to try to recreate such things rather than destroy them?”
Moonmeadow eyed him across the expanse of his teakwood desk. “I have not managed to survive in Diamond Lake unscathed by its politics by getting involved in them,” he said quietly. “Your actions will draw me into this mess, should you act against him.”
“Then we have your answer,” Graven replied, his expression trying to remain neutral. “Evil is afoot in Diamond Lake, milord,” he said. “We have reason to believe that Dourstone Mine is or at least was infested with it. You would not take action, even knowing that?”
“Ragnolin Dourstone is a capable man,” Moonmeadow replied. “I doubt he will simply allow you to investigate his mines because of something one of Smenk’s allies said. If anything, it will seem as a political maneuver to destroy Dourstone’s reputation in Diamond Lake, rather than holding any truth to it.”
“But there IS truth to it,” Lauryl said suddenly. “It is not a feint against Dourstone! His mine might be holding undead at this very moment!”
“And if it is, Dourstone will not want the rest of Diamond Lake to know about it,” Moonmeadow replied evenly. “Do not mistake me. I am not advocating that you do nothing about this. I am simply warning you that the politics of this small…” he used the epithet ‘mor-seelie’ again, a descriptive term saying that Diamond Lake was little more than a dung hole, “town are far more complicated than you understand. Every action you take, even if it be in the effort of aiding this place as a whole, will be seen as little more than an attempt to further my own reputation here.”
“Are you suggesting that we keep you out of it?” asked Ielena curiously.
“Even if I did,” the handsome mine manager replied, smiling faintly, “it would not work. You are inextricably linked to me. You have stayed in my home, you have served as my proxies and you have delivered ore in my name. You are mine and my name goes where you go.” He shook his head. “No. If I am saying anything to you regarding this situation, it is that you should go about things quietly. Having my name attached to your activities can make your efforts go more smoothly at times, but it can also make things far more difficult. Be prepared for that.”
“We will,” said Lauryl.
“I take it then, that you are giving us permission to continue our investigations?” asked Graven.
Moonmeadow nodded. “Complete your investigation of the Cairn and then see what you can find out about these worms…” He eyed the bottle with the segmented green worm in it. “Take that to Allustan. Perhaps he can advise you on its presence.”
“We found the information on what it was already…” began Graven.
“That’s as may be, but I would like Allustan to be made aware of it. He is the brother of the Lord Mayor. If he feels that such news is worthy of sharing, then perhaps your investigations will be made easier. For now, take it to him at the very least.”
Graven nodded, picking up the heavy bottle and peering at the green thing inside.
“Your actions will be weighed on a very discriminating scale,” Moonmeadow said, eyeing them all. “Be careful about how you go about things, hmm?” He eyed Celise a moment, whom he had been introduced to when the meeting began. “Welcome to our little mess, Madame,” he said, smiling without humor. “I hope you do not mind being pulled into more than you expected?”
Celise smiled faintly. “I expected little more than I have received, Milord,” she replied. “Every moment I spend in the presence of your assistants is educational. I only hope to repay them with what aid I might offer.”
Elluval smiled once more, this time bearing a hint of the humor he normally portrayed to the outside world. “Then I hope you become as educated as you seek to be.”
The others nodded, and, sensing their meeting was over, made their way out once more.
“About that tower,” Ielena said, looking up at the old observatory on the hill, “I was thinking… That old house is collapsing, and no one is staying in the observatory anymore… Why don’t we move into it?”
“Because it isn’t ours?” said Celise.
“Because it is filthy?” offered Lauryl.
“She has a point,” Graven answered, nodding at the young rogue. “There is an alchemical lab already present, the rooms downstairs can provide us with better cover than Vesst’s old place, and with a bit of cleaning up, it would provide a half-decent base of operations.” He nodded again. “We will need some help to clean it up, and likely a couple of servants to keep the place for us while we are out and about, but that works, actually.”
“Servants?” asked Celise.
“Yes…” Graven replied, looking toward Jalek’s Flophouse, down by the lake. “There are some people I promised I would help if I could…”
---
That evening found the troupe staring at four individuals they had determined were trustworthy enough to work for them. Two would act as guards, having had experience in the past. They would stand shifts outside and make certain no one entered who was not supposed to, while the other two would cook and clean, keeping the place in proper condition for living when the troupe returned from their explorations. Cots has been purchased, and a closet filled with supplies and foodstuffs had been located and added to with the groups personal tastes in mind.
The newcomers were all from Jalek’s, one the mother of a child who was wasting away from some illness. Another had been a guardsman in the Free City until he had been caught taking money from thieves they’d caught in order to supplement his own lifestyle. Having sworn off such activities since, his conviction had seen him fall from grace in Greyhawk and end up as a laborer in Diamond Lake. A fight in one of the mines with some criminals he’d once arrested on duty had seen him blackballed from the mines, and he hadn’t been able to find work since. The garrison did not want someone with a sordid past, and the sheriffs did not want someone they could not trust. He’d been wasting away in Jalek’s until Lauryl had offered a prayer to Eilistraee that forced him to speak nothing but the truth. Under oath, he had sworn he would never attempt such a thing in his life again. Such an act had destroyed his life, he said. He would never again risk such a thing.
The other guard had been injured while escorting a caravan and could not run or bear heavy weights. He was no longer able to work in the mines, and he was not talented enough (or, to be honest, he admitted, willing) to start life again as an apprentice somewhere. His wife worked as a maid in the Gansworth residence and had rooms there, but he was not welcome.
Each was willing to accept what pay the troupe offered, recognizing their circumstances and offering to do the best they could.
Unfortunately, all was for naught, when the next morning, they awoke to thunderous banging on the front door to the place and opened it to reveal the sneering face of Sheriff Cubbin and two of his lieutenants.
“By order of the Lord Mayor, I am ordering you to leave this place, at once,” Sheriff Cubbin said, grinning at them and producing a document with a red seal attached.
“For what reason?” Graven said, rushing to the door when the guards sought him out.
“Trespassing,” Cubbin replied, grinning darkly. “This tower belongs to the Lord Mayor and you have no right to be here.”
Ielena cocked an eyebrow. “There was a necromancer here before. Why didn’t you evict him?!”
“I know about no necromancer,” Cubbin said, shrugging. “But settin’ fire to everything what was here before you and lightin’ Diamond Lake’s night sky is a good way to draw attention to the fact that ye’re slummin’ in this place…”
“We are not slumming!” Graven growled.
“Ye’re trespassin’,” Cubbin drawled back. “Ye got five minutes to get yer things and get OUT.” He started counting down the time in thirty second increments, grinning at his lieutenants.
“I don’t suppose we could settle this with some coin?” Ielena asked as the others moved to gather their things.
Cubbin glared at her. “This be the Lord Mayor’s tower, Missy. Ye want to stay in it, ye ask HIM, not me.”
Ielena smirked. “Was worth asking at least. A few coins always makes such situations smoother, yes?”
Cubbin eyed her for a moment.
“More time to move out would certainly make things easier,” Ielena added, cocking a hip and grinning at the threesome. “Say… a gold piece each for more?” Offering a hand, she suddenly held three glittering gold coins.
Cubbin’s and his lieutenant’s eyes suddenly glittered with something else – avarice. “Ye got half an hour,” the sheriff said, taking the coins and pocketing them. “We’ll be back then, and if ye’re not gone, ye’ll be spending the next month waitin’ to see the Lord Mayor in court!”
“Always a pleasure doing business with the sheriff,” Ielena said, smiling. Turning, she went to tell the others to take their time, but to keep moving. They’d been given a stay, but they still had to leave.
“What about us?” the guardsman with the bad leg asked. “Ye paid us for a week in advance and told us ye’d give us a place to stay as part of our pay.”
“Well, you see our situation,” Graven said, coming back with his pack filled already. He did not keep many personal effects and was the first to finish. “Return to the flophouse and stay there until we call for you. It is likely that we will be trying to fix up another place, and if you are willing, we will hire you back at that time. Keep the coin.”
“Understood, milord,” the man said. Nodding at the others, he helped gather their things together and made their way off. None were happy, but none could argue the circumstances, either.
“Who is in charge of property in this place?” asked Graven when the others arrived.
“Chief Cartographer Dietrik Cicaeda is responsible for land, so I understand,” offered Celise. She grinned and shrugged when the others looked at her. “What? I made some inquiries when I got here.”
“You’d like to stay in this place?” Graven asked, glaring down the hill at the retreating backs of the sheriff and his men. “Why?”
“Allustan is single,” Celise replied, snickering. “Actually, he’s quite the talent, magically. I was considering asking to be apprenticed to him. Rather than take up space in his home, I was thinking of purchasing a home of my own.” She shrugged.
“Fascinating…” drawled Graven. “Shall we head there, then? Perhaps someone there will be able to direct us to him and we can at least secure the old Vesst place for our use before Cubbin shows up to kick us out of THERE.”
---
Dietrik Cicaeda could be found in an office so packed with documents and books that it looked like the place had exploded. A large map of the Diamond Lake area hung on one wall, covered in cryptic markings and notes scrawled in a crabbed handwriting. Cicaeda himself was an older Human fellow, with a full beard and mustache of a pale gray. His clothes were thick wool, ribbed and pin-striped in a rust color that matched the color of the garrison soldiers. His eyes were blue-gray and glittered with intelligence, and when the troupe asked about purchasing the old Vesst manor, lit up with a knowing grin.
“I was wondering when someone might make a play for that place,” he said, turning and pulling out a drawer filled with documents. Sorting through it, he produced an ancient manuscript bound with a faded red ribbon. “Moonmeadow looking for a retreat from Diamond Lake?” he asked.
“Actually, no,” Graven replied. “We are not purchasing for his use. It will be for our own. We will be the owners, directly.”
“Interesting,” Cicaeda replied, looking them over. “Never knew Elves to want to live in a rundown manor house, but then again, it’s not likely to stay that way for long with you lot spending time in it, hmm?” He chuckled, sorting through the documents after untying the ribbon.
“Old Vesst’s place, hmm?” he muttered, reading the documents. Stopping, he produced a pair of square-sided glasses which he perched on his nose before returning to the reading. “As far as the records are concerned, Vesst still owns that property,” he said. “Of course, since Vesst is no longer around these parts to answer to his side of a sale, the land would revert back to the Lord Mayor’s control.”
“Great. Here we go again,” muttered Ielena.
“What’s that?” Cicaeda looked up, curious.
“Nothing,” Lauryl said, smiling. “Nothing important, that is.”
“How would we go about purchasing this land, then?” asked Graven.
“It would be a simple matter of getting the documents signed by the Lord Mayor and myself, of course. There’s also the matter of a survey.”
“A survey? What for?”
Cicaeda shrugged. “Any time a plot of land is sold in Diamond Lake, a survey of the land is taken. For the records, of course.” He gestured at the racks of scrolls and books around the room. “Nothing gets sold in Diamond Lake without being surveyed first. Helps to know what’s present at the time of sale, so there aren’t any arguments later.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Graven admitted. “How long would such a thing take?”
“A few days. Week at most,” the cartographer replied. “Depends on what Captain Trask has in mind, really.”
“What does he have to do with it?”
“The good Captain is nominally the person from whom I take orders,” Cicaeda replied with a grin. “Truth is I normally do much of my work on my own recognizance. It’s more a matter of getting the soldiers to go with me. Surveying is a lot of work and takes more than one man. I’m not as young as I once was, I’m sure you can tell.”
The others smiled faintly.
“Once we are finished with the survey, I will get back to you regarding cost for the plot. In the meantime, I will see about getting Lord Mayor Neff’s signature on these documents. I see no reason he wouldn’t sign them…”
“Very well,” said Graven, turning and heading for the door. “We will return in a few days to check on the progress.”
“I will see you then,” Cicaeda replied.
---
An individual Graven had seen before while purchasing vials of holy water met them in the courtyard on the way out. Melinde’ was the young knight assigned to the protection and defense of the shrine to Heieroneous in town. It was a dull job, given that forty of the sixty or so garrison members who called the garrison home were always within short distance. The rest were usually out escorting ore shipments, but that still left a sizeable reason not to bother the shrine. Graven did not particularly like Melinde’ for her failure to react when he had brought in a woman dying of disease less than a month before. She had acted with promptness, but had shown little emotion in doing so. He felt she should have shown more compassion.
She showed little compassion this time as well, meeting them halfway across the courtyard, on their way to the gates to the compound. “Well met,” she said, stopping the others as they looked to see what she wanted. “I am Melinde’ and I have been graced with the task of traveling with you for some time.”
“To what purpose?” inquired Graven, eyeing her warily.
Melinde’ smiled faintly. “To keep an eye on you, of course.” At his startled look, she continued, “Come now, good sir. You do not believe that just anyone can purchase land in Diamond Lake without first being known by those in a position of authority, do you? I am here to be certain that your actions are above-board and worthy of a potential citizen of Diamond Lake.”
Graven raised an eyebrow. “If that is the case, then it surprises me that anyone in this town has been allowed to make purchases.”
Melinde’s smile disappeared. “If you are speaking on some of the… less pleasant… members of our town, you must realize, of course, that we cannot control every aspect of behavior here.”
“No… Just those who wish to purchase land…”
“Those who are landowners have a stake in the future of Diamond Lake,” said Melinde’. “And those who live here have a stake in those who attempt to purchase land. It could be said that both sides gain by this.”
“It could be,” Graven replied. “I doubt very much that you’d turn around and head back to your cell if we said we’d rather not?”
Melinde’ eyed him flatly. “No.”
“Right. Come on, then. Hope you don’t mind violence. It has a habit of following us around.”
---
Spending the evening at the Vesst residence, the troupe ate a sparing meal and told Melinde’ a little about themselves. A night in their cots (they’d brought the extras from the observatory, so Melinde’ had a place to sleep), and they rose, readied for the day, and set off for the Whispering Cairn.
“Why exactly are you involved in this, again?” the young paladin asked curiously.
“It was apparently uninvestigated,” Lauryl answered. “We are trying to identify the interior and locate anything of potential interest for Master Moonmeadow.”
“So, he is behind this, after all. I had suspected as much.”
“It has become more than that, in our investigations,” Graven replied. “Were you aware, for instance, that there was a necromancer living in Diamond Lake?”
Melinde’s eyes rose in surprise. “No, I was not.”
Graven nodded, a grim look on his features. “Then be prepared to learn a lot more. This cairn is merely the beginning of things, I think.”
---
The entrance to the cairn was as they had left it. There was no sign that anyone had come or gone from the place during their time away, and it was a relatively easy thing to return to the chamber where they’d run into Alastor Land’s ghost.
As he had promised, the far door to the room filled with iron spheres was open. The troupe spared a moment to offer a prayer for Avlan’s ghost, and then crossed the chamber carefully, climbing up from the balls to the remains of a ledge that supported the beam. Beyond was a vast chamber unlike anything anyone had seen before.
Four large bas-relief frescoes covered the walls surrounding what amounted to a pit, over which were hung four bridges that connected to an outer walkway. Two of the bridges had rotted and fallen into the yawning pit below, but the others stood untouched. A swirl of air spun about on a central landing, offering no sign of what it meant. Bright light shown from a ceiling forty feet above the central landing.
“We should hurry,” said Graven, casting a spell of protection over himself (in case there was a fight upcoming).
“Just because you cast a spell doesn’t mean we should go barreling into this place,” Ielena said cautiously, stepping through the open portal and eyeing the floor and walls for signs of a trap. “I suggest caution.”
“I agree,” said Lauryl, moving to stare at the closest fresco. As she did, a mist began to float up over the surface of the fresco, and she took a step back, holding her breath. When she realized it was not dangerous, she began breathing regularly once more as the others approached to see what was happening. When the mist covered the wall, the carvings seemed to shift.
What was initially a peaceful scene filled with the unusually tall bald individuals depicted elsewhere in the cairn changed into one of horror. Dark, twisted shapes emerged, coalescing into monstrous creatures that looked like a mix between a wolf and a giant spider. The mists began to fade soon after.
“Whatever it was,” Lauryl said quietly, “it was not good for these people…”
Ielena looked around the edge of the room, seeing the outer walkway led to the next set of carvings. “This way,” she said, leading them on.
As they approached, again the mist rose, covering the statuary and making things appear to move. In this one, a group of seven proud noble-appearing individuals stood, presenting a strange rod to a council of others. As the one holding the rod lifted it, it broke into seven parts.
“I think I have heard of this,” Lauryl whispered, eyeing the figures as the mist faded. “The Rod of Seven Parts is an artifact once made by the forces of utmost Law to fight in a war against Chaos. Perhaps this is the creation story?”
“I don’t know,” said Celise, copying the symbols each of the figures bore on their chests into a small journal. “But I have a feeling this room might have something to do with it.”
“Can we get moving now?” asked Graven, eyeing the next set of sculptures.
That one depicted a massive battle involving the tall individuals and the wolf-spider creatures. One of the bald figures stabbed a demonic version of the wolf-spiders they’d seen on the other wall (only this one had several arms and two heads) with the staff and some thing strange happened, an opening in the very air itself, swallowing the warrior, the wolf-spider demon and the staff. Another individual standing nearby was struck by a beam from the departing wolf-spider thing, and fell to the ground.
“If this is a tomb, then the question becomes whether it is for the one who disappeared with the demonic creature, or for the one who fell as it disappeared,” offered Graven, moving swiftly toward the second fresco and the still-standing bridge.
“Where are you going?” asked Lauryl.
“I’m going to find out what that swirl of air is.”
“Alone?”
Graven smiled. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”
“Damnit!”
But Ielena was already at the fourth fresco, and it was already moving beneath the layers of mist.
This one had a figure looking rather like the one who’d fallen in the last fresco and bearing the same symbol on his chest. He was standing in front of a legion of others of his kind. As they watched, the others raised their swords in salute to the central figure, indicating he was of some high standing.
“Their leader, maybe?” asked Lauryl.
“Ladies?” asked Graven, stepping into the central platform and eyeing the swirl of air, “Care to join me?”
As they did, a pair of unusual figures silently rose from the dark pits below, banners about their arms, neck and waists flapping in the breeze. Red pennons flew from their helmets, the unusual armor looking almost ceramic in the strange light. They bore twin swords, which one put to use immediately against Graven while the other continued to hover above the ground. As the others reacted, this one slapped its blades together, causing a horrific clang and din that nearly sent Graven toppling over the edge.
In a matter of moments, it had gone from a peaceful, museum-like atmosphere, to one of chaos, with the silent, but apparently deadly, floating knights doing everything they could to either slice the party open or batter them off the edge with their clattering clangor. Ielena and Lauryl reacted with ranged fire, battering the creatures with arrows that penetrated the armor but did not seem to have much effect. Celise sent forth a blistering array of magic globes that slammed into the floating one, leaving pockmarks on its chest while Graven rattled and clattered with his chain, scarring his attacker’s armor, but leaving no long-lasting effect.
The armor itself was empty, the helmets containing no eyes and no faces. Activated entirely by spirits of the wind bound into them since time immemorial, they battled on in silent precision. However, their combination of assaults, one from the air and another from up close, could not hold the party back for long. First the flying one fell, crumbling to dust even as Celise hammered it with a charge from a wand they’d found meant specifically for shattering ceramics and crystal. The second fell moments later, sundered into pieces as Lauryl dropped her bow, drew her hand-and-a-half, and stepped in to assist Graven.
When it was done, naught but a pile of rapidly diminishing dust remained of the close-in figure. The room fell back into silence, but for the now-close sound of the windy spiral whirling in the center of the chamber. Checking everyone’s wounds were not life threatening, the party stepped into the vortex one by one and was raised into a hidden chamber, far above…
---
The pillar of air carried them to a small chamber above in which a white marble sarcophagus that matched the one far below sat. A bas-relief on one wall beside the sarcophagus depicted what the hero must have looked like in life, bald, androgynous and wearing a simple ancient garment that flowed in the breeze. He held a mighty sword in one hand and looked into the invisible distance. He wore a diadem bearing an ovular glyph matching that on the sarcophagus below. Opposite him stood a cloaked demoniac figure with long curved horns tipped in darkest red, holding a device composed of a handle and small loop. From it’s gaze it was apparent that it was staring at a globe of absolute blackness painted onto the wall, perhaps two feet in diameter. As the party watched, the globe seemed to float out of the wall and touch the warrior, who raised his arms in surprise before beginning to disappear.
“Well, I guess that answers whose tomb this is,” said Ielena quietly. The illusion dissipated, and the statues were just statues once more.
“I wouldn’t want to run into one of those spheres,” said Graven, eyeing the painting on the wall in case it should reanimate and become real.
“This thing is entirely sealed,” said Ielena, stepping back and staring at the thing. A moment after she did, a disembodied voice spoke, saying, “Speak my name.”
“Name?” Graven asked, looking around. “What name?”
“The name of the one in the tomb, idiot,” Ielena replied, shaking her head. “Have you seen any names?”
“We have seen several,” said Celise thoughtfully. “We just can’t read them.”
“The icons?” asked Lauryl.
“Yes,” the sorceress replied. “Were we to be able to read them, I’d be willing to bet we could open the tomb. Probably only opens to those who knew him. Security device, if you will.”
“Wonderful. We have to leave this place and come back again?” Graven muttered.
“Unless you can suddenly read these icons,” Celise said, opening her journal and matching the one on the sarcophagus with one she’d already drawn, “yes, we do. I do have a suggestion, however?”
“Yes?”
“Allustan,” she replied, grinning. “It’s said he can find anything there is to be found if you give him time. He might be able to read these.”
Graven sighed. “Off we go, then…”
---
Allustan met them outside his home and walked with them through his well-tended garden while they told him their story. His home contrasted with the rest of Diamond Lake, being well-painted and maintained, similar to the Moonmeadow residence. It was a pleasant walk, at least.
Nodding and making interested sounds from time to time, he finally ended up staring at the icons in the book for a long period of time and then shaking his head. “I cannot read this,” he replied thoughtfully. “However, I might be able to find a translation. If I am right, this is an ancient version of Auran known as Vaati; an icon-laden language wherein entire concepts are bound up in a drawing like this.” He nodded. “I may have a book to decipher these things, and if not, I can send for one in the Free City.”
“How much?” asked Graven.
“For the translations? Twenty gold pieces per question. Given the circumstances, said questions would be each illustration.”
“We only need the one. So that will do.”
“I think not,” said Celise. “Translate them all, if you would, good sir.” She smiled at the wizard, receiving a pleasant grin in response.
“What?” Graven spluttered. “Twenty gold pieces per illustration?! We only need the one on the sarcophagus, though!”
“Nonsense!” Celise replied, smirking. “There is a story being told in that tomb! A story we should at least do the honor of retelling! You can’t tell a story without the names!”
“Let some bard do that,” Graven growled. “We are only there to identify what we can for Lord Moonmeadow.”
Allustan merely watched them chatter back and forth, raising an eyebrow.
“I agree with Celise,” said Lauryl, nodding. “Whomever it is in that sarcophagus was important to those people and in that war. Enough so that the demonic thing was willing to annihilate him the way he did. We should at least find out who he is, if only to recognize him!”
Graven threw his hands in the air. “Bah!”
“Ignore him,” Ielena said, grinning at Allustan. “He’s always like this.”
“I see,” said the Sage of Diamond Lake. “Well, return in a few days and I should have them translated for you.”
“We’re not in a hurry,” said Celise, grinning. “I could help if you wanted?”
Lauryl grinned while Ielena rolled her eyes. There was little else they could do. Perhaps they could look into the worms in Dourstone Mine while they waited?
END, The Whispering Cairn!
Hey gang!
The Whispering Cairn storyline is complete! I will begin the process of starting up Three Faces of Evil likely over the next few days, so keep an eye out!
I'm curious - Who is your favorite character? Why? Does the story read like a novel - does it feed your thirst for more? Do the clues the party is finding whet your appetite to find out what is going on as a reader (whether or not you already know the storyline)?
One aspect of the story is intriguing - the storyline actually has the party knowing slightly more than the players know, just to make it easier on the readers. Certain questions have yet to be asked/answered, and so, at least for them, right now, issues such as Dourstone Mine and Smenk are all they care about. If there is more going on, then they know nothing about it...
I'm curious! Let's see those critiques and tell me what you think!
Syrinx
I'm digging it so far. Ielena is probably my favorite character so far, although they're all pretty good - Graven fills the serious role while the rest of the characters banter around him. And the presentation of the story is certainly smooth.
One question. Did Melinde join the party as a PC or as an NPC? Just curious - I can certainly see the need for a little extra firepower in a grinder like TFoE (although in my game, Filge actually fulfilled that role).
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Hey gang!
The Whispering Cairn storyline is complete! I will begin the process of starting up Three Faces of Evil likely over the next few days, so keep an eye out!
I'm curious - Who is your favorite character? Why? Does the story read like a novel - does it feed your thirst for more? Do the clues the party is finding whet your appetite to find out what is going on as a reader (whether or not you already know the storyline)?
One aspect of the story is intriguing - the storyline actually has the party knowing slightly more than the players know, just to make it easier on the readers. Certain questions have yet to be asked/answered, and so, at least for them, right now, issues such as Dourstone Mine and Smenk are all they care about. If there is more going on, then they know nothing about it...
I'm curious! Let's see those critiques and tell me what you think!
Syrinx
I've been looking forward to each new installment! This is one of my favorite three campaign journals to read. My favorite character is probably Graven -- I love how bewildered he is with three "battle babes" to deal with. Of course, I've never read/played any published modules (still a newbie), so I'm sure that it helps that I don't have any idea what to expect from AoW. I definitely want to know about the guy in the tomb! You're doing a great job with imagery and perspectives as well.
Concerning the journal "reading like a novel", I think it's a little too choppy to feel like a novel...but I'm enjoying the perspectives from the "side" characters -- it definitely makes them feel more real and fleshes out the story.
Thanks for sharing your campaign! Keep it coming...
Syrinx! I haven't read though the stuff yet, but I assume this is from your tabletop game as you already told me you had Melinde (sp) join as an NPC for TFoE. I am considering doing a campaign journal here for my portal game, will post more when I read through your journal!
Hey all,
Thanks for the feedback so far (and keep it coming)! Regarding the questions and comments brought forth so far -
Melinde’ -
Melinde' joined as an NPC after the party expressed interest in purchasing the Vesst house (the "overseer's home" as it is presented in the game. I made it Vesst's old place to incorporate some more backstory about Smenk and to fill in some of his previous villainy). As you can see from her explanation in the story, she is there to watch over the "potential land-owners" but in reality, was added in due to my concerns about the dangers I've read on this board about the TFoE sequence as you suggested.
The Novel -
The choppiness of the novel approach - My own personal writing style (at least lately) has been to write "scenes" as if you'd see them in a movie. Skip the interim parts where you can and stick to the bits that matter. I personally can't stand the "Wheel of Time" series due to the insane amounts of unimportant detail that is given. 200 pages and they've not even reached the main town where the action happens? Good grief! If you want a more flowing approach to my writing, may I humbly suggest a look at my page over at Deviant Art: http://fcneko.deviantart.com. Read the Anubis series and you'll get a more solid novel-like approach, told from one perspective.
Graven & Ielena –
Graven is a slight variation on the way the player plays the character. He’s made slightly more unforgiving in the novel than he is in-game, and his interaction with Ielena has been seriously tweaked in favor of the Law vs. Chaos conflict inherent in their opposing Alignments. Graven is Lawful Neutral and follows his own code (as you can see from his actions in the novel). Ielena is Chaotic Good (though with a lot of Neutral tendencies which I’ve cut from the story). The fact that the two do not share anything in terms of alignment makes for too good an interaction sequence for me to pass up. In the game, Ielena harasses Graven on a regular basis, but his responses are usually a shrug or a roll of the eyes, vs. the intense arguments I portray here. Ielena is pretty much written as she’s played, with a devil-may-care attitude that makes her a lot of fun.
Lauryl –
Lauryl is played by my wife, who has always been a low-key gamer. Her interactions are usually the “common sense” approach, which works to keep the party from going off on some of their stranger ideas and keeps them alive. From what I’ve heard from those who read the storyline, Lauryl is the one character of the bunch who isn’t very well known or understood, so perhaps I need to spend more time on her.
Celise –
Celise is played by the player of Avlan, who was munched unexpectedly by the Grick in the Whispering Cairn. Avlan was pretty much an experiment in dual-weapon fighting and it’s kind of sad that the first real fight that he had that he could use his abilities, he got eaten due to not using the +1 short sword that the party found in the water-filled chambers… Celise has been highly useful since joining, since the troupe didn’t have a focused spell-caster until she did. That also means that Graven is now the party’s “heavy” (Fighter/Cleric) while Lauryl acts as his backup (Cleric).
I’ll take all the comments into account as I move forward with the story and I’m glad you’re enjoying them! I enjoy writing them, so hopefully there will be more in the future!
Syrinx
PS – Arcmagik, if you do, make sure you re-format all those posts. I’ve done that in the past and the effort can get to be insane. Look at Arkatreides’ stories in the Portal Story section for reference. I was the editor!
The next few days were taken up with personal time. Allustan needed time to do his research, and each of the troupe realized that they hadn’t spent much time on themselves since all this began. Ielena organized and sold the items they’d found that Lord Moonmeadow declared he did not wish to keep, Celise quizzed Lauryl on her family and background, and Graven found himself speaking on a variety of things with Melinde’ regarding the few places where their beliefs shared common ground.
Realizing they had earned enough coin to afford to purchase better quality equipment, they met at Lord Moonmeadow’s home in one of the gardens and split up their findings. Celise took any scrolls she could read, while Graven claimed an unusual-appearing amulet Filge had been wearing when they’d fought with him. Looking like a dead bird’s skull, it apparently had the magical ability to harden the skin of anyone who wore it for a time. Since his chain shirt had been torn to shreds in a previous battle, he took the amulet and sent his portion of the proceeds with Isendur when that worthy elf went to Greyhawk on a mission for their master. He also chose to keep Kullen’s axe, though carrying it around town was just asking for trouble from the big half-orc. Ielena claimed a ring that glowed when someone attacked her and offered a faint field of defense around her while Lauryl chose to keep the suit of shining chainmail they’d found on the dead thief in the cairn. When she put it on, it fit her perfectly, as if designed specifically for her figure.
Graven could not resist commenting on that fact – a comment that drew titters and comments from the others that resulted in his staring back at them until they found something else to do.
When word spread that Isendur was heading to Greyhawk, the others quickly threw in with Graven, asking for the purchase of a variety of items not available in Diamond Lake. Isendur took one look at their list, shook his head, and stated that he was leaving now, before any minds could be changed.
Soon enough, however, their thoughts turned back to the Whispering Cairn and its secrets. Such thoughts could not be avoided when the trio of adventurers from Greyhawk returned from their visit to the Stirgenest Cairn with tales of dust and boredom. The looks they gave the troupe as they moved about told of wagging tongues and rumors making their way about town. One did not find success in Diamond Lake without others hearing about it and trying to decide what had caused it.
Thus, when Allustan’s messenger came to call, the troupe was more than happy to meet with him. Melinde’ was called from her duties at the garrison and joined them a short time after they met the sage in his garden and sat at the large tree stump Allustan liked to use as an outdoor meeting table.
“To be quick about it,” Allustan, said, smiling indulgently at Graven, “the name in question that you seek would appear to be Zosiel. He was a member of the Vaati, which translates as ‘Wind Duke,’ and refers to the Wind Dukes of Aaqa, who forged the Rod of Seven parts during the period of war between Law and Chaos. A book called the Chronicle of Chan records a full roster of the Wind Dukes present at the Battle of Pesh, which I believe is the battle you described as being depicted on the wall of the tomb. It is during this battle that the Rod of Seven Parts was used to destroy Mishka the Wolf-Spider, who was the leader of the forces of Chaos. From the description of the chamber in which you said you found the sarcophagus, it would appear that Zosiel was destroyed by a Sphere of Annihilation. This would mean, of course, that the sarcophagus does not actually contain any remains, which could explain why the thing was entirely sealed.”
“Why would it ask for a name, then?” asked Lauryl.
Allustan paused and then shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Who were the other names?” Celise had opened her journal to the page where she had drawn the icons of the other figures present.
“Ah, yes.” Allustan produced a folded piece of paper he’d kept within his robes and laid it out on the stump, flattening it as he did. “I doubt these names will mean much to you, but they are listed in the Chronicle of Chan as Amophar, Darbos, Emoniel, Icosiol, Penader, Qadeej, and Uriel.”
“That one,” Celise said, pointing to the symbol Allustan identified as Icosiol, “is the one on the figure standing before the army. Is it mentioned that he was a general?”
“I would not call him a general,” Allustan replied thoughtfully. “The Wind Dukes of Aaqa were not involved directly in a military resistance against the forces of Chaos. In fact, they were first famous, according to the Chronicle, for the fact that they abandoned the war altogether. Apparently, their leader, this Icosiol figure, led them on a search to discover the secrets of the Rod of Seven Parts, which then allowed them to forge it as a weapon for use in the conflict.
“When they reappeared, Qadeej bore the Rod of Seven Parts and used it to destroy Mishka, the Wolf Spider, who was the general of the army of Chaos. At the time of Mishka’s destruction, however, the Rod apparently opened a portal to some nether realm, and both Mishka and Qadeej were destroyed. Before he disappeared, however, it is said that Mishka blasted Icosiol with a beam from his eyes, which killed the Duke.”
“Fascinating,” mouthed Celise, taking notes.
“Yes, yes. Fascinating,” murmured Graven. “Why do you think this Zosiel was buried in Diamond Lake, of all places? A connection to a planar war such as this having a location in this place?” He looked around, ignoring the general beauty of Allustan’s home in favor of the dirt-colored hills and vales of Diamond Lake beyond.
Allustan smiled. “Heroes have to be buried somewhere,” he replied. “The Cairn Hills are known for their cairns, after all. Perhaps others of the Vaati are buried here. Maybe even Icosiol himself.”
He produced another document and laid it out on the stump as well, using a rock to hold it down as the wind picked up and rang a set of chimes in the trees nearby. “There was one other icon in Celise’s collection,” he said, nodding at the book in her lap, which he had borrowed during his efforts. “The name Nadroc was carved on the wall of a chamber that the notes described as a bedroom, near the orange… goop… you found. Nadroc is the name of a famous architect of that era. He is apparently the designer of the Whispering Cairn.” Allustan smiled.
“Fine. Pay the man,” said Graven.
“There is one other item of interest,” the sage said, looking up and causing the others to stop their sudden movement. When they had settled, he said, “the symbol on the arcane apparatus you found in the entrance hall… It is that of Icosiol. I do not know why Icosiol’s name should be located in a tomb of one of his soldiers, but I found it interesting enough that I should make mention. Perhaps there is a reason for it.”
He smiled at Celise. “Your young sorceress here was quite capable in her note-taking and I was able to identify a number of the icons she drew and stated were inside the rim of the mirror-case. They are related to transportation. I believe the mirror you found was part of some greater transportation system that Icosiol may have designed for movement about the realms, but that is pure speculation at this point.”
“You have our thanks,” Lauryl said when the wizard had lapsed into silence. Holding forth a small pouch, she set it on the stump before him and smiled. “Your payment, as requested.”
Allustan smiled back, but made no effort to pick up the coins. “I find all of this rather fascinating,” he said quietly. “If you are willing, I would be curious to know what comes of all this.”
Graven eyed the bag of coins on the stump.
Celise batted him on the shoulder. “Of course, Sir. If we have anything else that you might find interesting, we will bring it to your attention.”
“I would be most grateful,” the wizard said, standing. He had still made no effort to pick up the bag of coins. The troupe left him there, pondering whatever thoughts a sage might have about a war so old as to be legend.
Once they were back on the road into town, Ielena asked, “What now?”
“Isendur is to return to town later today,” Graven said. “I suggest we eat well and rest early. Tomorrow, we return to the Cairn and then try to find a way into Dourstone Mine.”
---
Given that their first destination in the morning would be the Whispering Cairn, the troupe waited until Isendur returned from Greyhawk and collected their new belongings before heading toward the old manor house. They would sleep there to cut down on the travel time in the morning, so they could find out what was going on inside Zosiel’s tomb first thing.
Unfortunately, while they had been away, someone else had moved in and claimed their home. The first they knew of it was when a spray of crude javelins flew out of the broken windows and the sound of slithering hisses arose in the air. Instantly, their calm chatter turned into the silence of readiness as another flight of javelins flew out and clattered in the dirt yard.
“What in the nine hells?” Celise asked, wincing as a javelin bounced off her shoulder. Quickly making the motions to clothe herself in magical armor, she watched Graven and Lauryl charge through the door, Melinde’ and Ielena leaping through the windows. Moments later, the sound of hissing and combat rang throughout the broken home.
Celise crept through the front door while the conflict erupted, moving deeper into the house as the party fought to reclaim what was theirs. Already, the bodies of three lizardmen lay in pools of widening blood on the floorboards of the entry area. Filth lined the floors and scratches and carved portions of the wall showed where weapon strikes had gone astray. Turning the corner to the back portion of the room, Celise arrived in time to watch what was apparently the leader of the lizard creatures go down beneath a flurry of blows as it hissed and spat in its strange language.
“Everyone alright?” she asked, stunned at the carnage. Several more of the lizard-like people were lying around the place, along with two utterly huge lizards that had been carved open in the battle. Ielena slumped to sit by the rear wall of the home, hands moving to cradle her badly-injured leg, while Graven winced and muttered a series of words that saw a strange light pour forth from his hands, closing the cuts and healing the bruises he’d received at the hands of the house-invaders.
Lauryl turned to look back as Melinde’ knelt and uttered a prayer to Heieroneous, healing the worst of what looked like a toothy bite on the young rogue’s leg. The injury disappeared moments later when Lauryl added Eilistraee’s silvery light to the process, closing the wound entirely and leaving little more than torn leather and blood to show she’d been injured at all.
“You fought well, all of you,” Melinde’ said, apparently impressed.
“You thought it would be otherwise?” Graven asked, helping Ielena up from the floor and then looking around at the mess. “We haven’t made it this far without being able to react quickly to situations.”
“I had thought you might stand around in shock when they first attacked,” Melinde’ replied, shrugging. “To find the lot of you rushing through the windows and doors as I went was… gratifying. Heieroneous be praised.”
“Yes…” Graven said, looking around. “What the hell happened here? How long were we gone? Four days?”
The entire house looked like it had been destroyed even further than it had been when they first arrived. Their supplies had been broken into and scattered across the floors, their cots smashed and incorporated into filthy mats of mud, branches and leaves. Everywhere, the muddy tracks of the lizardmen were scattered hither, thither and yon. The corpses of the invaders lie on the floors, stinking up the rooms.
“So much for staying here tonight,” Ielena said, poking at the remains of their cots.
“I’ll say one thing,” Celise said, wrinkling her nose, “If the Chief Cartographer hasn’t been out here yet, this will certainly lower the price a bit…”
“I am beginning to wonder if we aren’t cursed somehow,” Graven muttered. Reaching down, he grabbed a leg of the lizardmen’s leader and began dragging him outside. “We aren’t getting to bed early tonight, obviously. Let’s get these things outside and a reasonable distance away. We can’t burn them, so we’ll leave them for the scavengers.”
Groaning at the unexpected work before bed, the others began to help. Soon enough, the creatures were scattered through the woods nearby, food for the wolves. Celise cast a series of spells to remove the stench from the air, but the floors and piles of debris had to be cleaned by hand. It was not until dusk that the home was finally restored to its pre-lizard state, and that was not saying much.
“Are you sure you wish to buy this place?” asked Melinde’, dropping a fresh bag of flour she’d returned to town to purchase. Ielena moved a bag of similar supplies into the storage cupboard they’d found and wedged it closed with a piece of wood. Hopefully, that would be enough for now to keep this sort of thing from happening again. The paladin eyed the mildewed walls and sagging ceilings of the house and shook her head.
“The price is likely good,” Graven replied, shrugging. “And nothing a little work can’t repair. Besides,” he added, “there are starving people in Diamond Lake who will do it simply for food and a few coins. If it can help them, then it is worth doing.”
Melinde’ raised an eyebrow. “I did not think you were so giving in your line of work, Graven. Hunting the undead tends not to be the sort of thing that allows for charity.”
Graven eyed her evenly. “The Lady of Our Fate may be busy with the workings of the skein of reality,” he said quietly, “but that does not mean her servants are not aware that her snips and knots are not always fair. We do what we can when we can.”
Melinde’ nodded.
“Yay,” Ielena said without excitement. “Porridge for everyone tonight!”
---
After a night of sleep befouled by the rising stench of mud and death, and surrounded by the howl of hungry wolves and other scavengers, the troupe rose early and had another breakfast of warm gruel. Heading out warily lest some of the night’s scavengers still be around, they made it to the Whispering Cairn without incident and swiftly returned to Zosiel’s secret burial chamber.
When the disembodied voice spoke, Ielena quickly responded with, “Zosiel.” Instantly, a bright blue light shown from within the sarcophagus, revealing a seam between the lid and the body of the coffin itself. With an easy push, the lid slid aside, revealing what remained of Zosiel after his annihilation by the sphere.
Two long, slightly curved black horns tipped in red showed the fate of the demonic creature that had been responsible for Zosiel’s destruction, and a pewter box covered with strange letters that seemed to constantly change shape sat within the sarcophagus. Melted metal kept the box sealed, refusing to give a clue as to what was within.
“I don’t like the looks of that,” Ielena said, eyeing the interior of the sarcophagus warily and focusing on the unusual box.
“Looks like another item to take to Allustan,” Celise whispered, seemingly awed at seeing artifacts from a war before time began.
“Great,” muttered Graven. “Let’s give away more of our hard-earned coin…”
The return to Diamond Lake was uneventful, despite the incident where Ielena swore she’d seen someone in the forest watching them. No sign could be found, and they put it down to nerves after the previous night’s chaos surrounding the manor. Allustan seemed surprised to see them, but took the box with the writhing letter forms and promised he would do what he could to tell them what it was. Confirming that it was, indeed, from the tomb of Zosiel, the troupe left him to his work and made their way back to Lord Moonmeadow’s residence, to inform him of their findings before heading off to see what could be done about the Dourstone Mine.
---
The meal had been going on now for thirty minutes. Three courses had gone by, and Gelch Tilgast, mine manager and therefore a minor lord of Diamond Lake, hadn’t gotten to the point yet. Next to him sat Velias Childramun, a priest from the garrison and apparently someone just as garrulous as the mine manager. The two were talking about the weather, iron futures in Greyhawk and whatever it was that the party had been doing in town to bring in such unique and intriguing items.
“After all,” Tilgast said, sopping a piece of bread in the warm gravy left over from the main course, “you can’t just go around selling items of value and interest in Diamond Lake without raising some eyebrows.”
“We have been on a task for Master Moonmeadow,” Graven replied flatly, tilting his head and eyeing the chatty mine manager. “You should ask him directly, rather than those who answer to him.”
Graven was tired of this game. There was something Tilgast wanted, but he wouldn’t just come out and say it. When the Elven priest had tried to shorten the meeting (and thus avoid the previous hour of wasted time), Tilgast had merely smiled and commented on how he’d always thought Elves prided themselves on knowing proper dinner etiquette. No matter how short and terse Graven’s answers were, Tilgast did not get the clue, and so the interminable dinner went on.
“I am most fascinated to see someone of your skin tone among the elven people,” Tilgast said, nodding at Lauryl. “It was my understanding that while there are Gray Elves, their skin has a grayish tint to them, rather than being entirely gray, the way yours is.”
Lauryl smiled faintly. “I am of half-Drowic descent, Lord Tilgast,” she replied. “My mother is from deep underground, where skin tones tend toward absolute blackness, matching their surroundings. I am told it allows them, along with their natural magics, to hide quite easily in their underground realm.”
“Black skin underground, eh?” Tilgast asked, nodding as a servant took away his dinner platter. “I always thought underground creatures turned pale, not dark.”
“It comes from the Curse of the Seldarine,” Lauryl replied quietly. “During the Crown Wars of so long ago, the people who became the Drow consorted with demons and eventually declared war on the others of the Elven race. Their darkness grew to such a point that even the Seldarine could not stand their presence on the surface of the world, and so they were cursed with dark skin to represent the stain on their souls, and driven underground.”
“So, it is a godly curse then?” Tilgast asked, raising an eyebrow. Another servant set down a small plate with a gelled desert of strawberries and cream, along with a tiny spoon.
“It is,” Lauryl replied.
“But you are only half this… Drow… thing, you mentioned?” Tilgast waved his spoon in the air before taking a small bite once everyone else had theirs before them.
“I am. My mother was of the underground Elves and my father was of the surface.”
“Fascinating,” Tilgast said, eyeing her curiously.
“Indeed,” Childramun said, clearing his throat to get attention. “I had thought all of the sub-surface elves worshiped a goddess of spiders?”
“They do,” said Graven, drawing everyone’s attention. “But as has been pointed out, Lauryl is not directly of their kind.”
“My father worshipped Eilistraee, the Lady of the Dance,” Lauryl replied, touching the holy symbol resting at her throat. “He converted my mother from her following of Lloth and brought her into the light.”
Childramun chuckled. “In more ways than just one.”
Lauryl smiled faintly. “You could say that, yes.”
“And what about the rest of you?” asked Tilgast, looking around. “I am certain you all have stories to tell, not being from Diamond Lake itself. What brought you to this place? It is not exactly an arboreal paradise, hmm?”
“You can say that again,” whispered Ielena, drawing a faint smile from the others.
“I would be curious, before answering,” said Graven, “as to why you would ask such a thing, Master Tilgast? We are not friends of yours. Prior to your servant giving us the message to meet you here tonight, we had no reason to even think you cared about our lives or activities?”
Tilgast sat for a moment and then finished his bite of dessert. “I must admit that I was concerned that inviting you to my home might seem a bit forward, yes. You are correct in wondering why I might care what you are about in Diamond Lake, but as I said, one does not go about turning in ornate items with a curiosity appeal about them, interact with Smenk’s albino half-orc (and win) and not get noticed, hmm?”
Childramun looked around the table and smiled faintly. “In effect, what Gelch here is saying is that you have proven yourselves to be quite capable. Such capability tends to draw attention in Diamond Lake, and you have therefore attracted his. I might also add that, if you have attracted his attention, then there are likely others in Diamond Lake that would like to obtain your… services… in some way.”
“So that is what this is about?” asked Graven, sitting back and setting his spoon down on the plate. The dessert had barely been touched. “You are looking to hire us for something?”
“Not in as many words, no,” Tilgast said, weighing his words carefully. “We really should discuss this after dinner. Such topics are not proper for dinner.”
“Proper be damned,” Graven said suddenly. “You want to work with us somehow. Get it out there, man!”
Childramun chuffed softly. “For an Elf, you have remarkably little patience, good sir.”
“Good sir, I find it wasteful to not be about my duties,” Graven replied evenly.
“But then what is this?” Childramun asked, undaunted. “The potential to gain a patron for your efforts? Is that not worth the expenditure of your time?”
“My time is best spent in the service of Istus, sir,” Graven replied. “Spending an evening discussing frivolities does nothing to accomplish the goals of Istus or, I might add, Heieroneous, good sir.” There was a twist on the last two words, making them seem less a title than a faint insult.
Childramun was unfazed. “Does Istus expect you to personally raise a temple in her name?” he asked. “Does she expect you to accomplish every goal that she should ever wish to accomplish?”
“No, there are individuals who fulfill those duties.”
Childramun smiled faintly. His next words were full of meaning. “Do you, sir, see any other priests of Istus around to do such work in your absence?”
Graven glared for a moment before answering. “No. There are none.”
“Then does it not behoove you to pursue the betterment of your church in any way possible, up to and including spending fruitless evenings spending time with those who might be able to fund or at least further the fortunes of your goddess?”
Tilgast waited a moment and then realized Graven was not going to respond. “Well then,” he said, setting his spoon down on his mostly untouched plate. “I am finished with dessert. What say we retire to the sitting room for cigars and brandy?”
---
“I think he’s got a point,” Ielena said, stretching a bare leg and running her hands down it to feel for any dimple that might speak of fat. Scrupulous about her appearance due to her insistence on wearing body suits without arms or legs to cover herself, she was always careful to monitor whether or not she was gaining weight. Graven enjoyed watching the routine each night, though this time, he was not much in the mood for it.
“He wants us to continue doing what we are doing, but is willing to throw his own fortunes behind us, so long as we continue to get away with it,” Graven grumbled. “I don’t see what he has to lose.”
“He has nothing to lose,” offered Celise, sitting in her cot with her blanket wrapped around her. The silks she normally wore as an outfit were bundled in her lap and she was carefully going through each knot to make certain it stayed tight. Failure might reveal her in ways she did not intend. Her cat sat between her feet, playing with her toes while she worked. “If he throws in his lot with us and we continue to be successful, his fortunes will rise simply because his name is attached. If we fail, then he can always deny having anything to do with us. That his name being attached was a ‘cruel rumor.’”
“So, he wins either way. I hate politics.” Raven was not amused.
“That is why you have the issues you do when someone like Childramun says what he said tonight,” said Lauryl, coming in dressed solely in a towel, which she took off and began to dry herself with in the next room. Raven leaned back to watch on occasion, his eyes wandering from one woman to the next. From his vantage point, he could see Lauryl’s head when she leaned forward, as well as a long, lean gray-skinned leg when extended it.
“What do you mean?” he asked idly.
“Politics and religion go hand in hand, at times,” the half-Drow said, grinning when she caught him looking her way. She did nothing to move, so Graven simply kept watching. He particularly liked the way her snow white hair fell across her shoulders when it was wet. There was something about the contrast he couldn’t quite put a name to. Lauryl continued. “Childramun might have used a hammer to squash a gnat, but his point was valid, Graven. If you wish to forward Istus in places like this, there are better ways than simply standing on the front lines doing battle in her name.”
“I take it you know this from experience?” he asked.
Lauryl finished, wrapped the towel around her head and then strode, nude, into the room to where her things were sitting. Ignoring Graven as she did, she dressed in a simple shirt that hung nearly to her knees. “I do,” she said, purposefully not turning around to face him until she was dressed. She sat on the edge of her cot, grinning at the way he swallowed after she was seated. “You consider yourself a warrior in the name of Istus, battling against those who would ignore their fate or disrupt others’ by becoming or creating the undead.”
“That is right,” he said, watching as she began to dry her hair and then brush it out. “I have no time for things like tonight. While we talked, we could have been investigating the source of those green worms and the unkillable undead Smenk mentioned in his letter.”
“And if our discussion tonight leads us to someone who can get us through some impassable situation in the future that would not have been found if it were not for speaking to Master Tilgast?”
Graven made a face. “You are just like Childramun.”
“What is that?” asked Lauryl, focusing on her hair for the moment. “Careful?”
“Intrusive,” he said. Turning away, he climbed up on his cot and lay down.
“It’s okay,” Ielena said, sotto voce. “He just doesn’t like to be proven wrong!”
Graven offered a faint comment, to quiet to be heard, and rolled over. There was work to be done in the morning.
“I would like to thank you for your efforts in the Cairn,” Master Moonmeadow said, nodding across the table in the library. “The maps you have given and the few interesting items I decided to keep may shed some light on the mysteries of the War between Law and Chaos and the forging of the Rod of Seven Parts. Such was not even within my hopes when I sent you into that place, and you have brought back parts of a mystery so deep that I may spend the rest of my days seeking more pieces to it. But I must first thank you.”
Nearby, Isendur stood smiling in the morning light. They had come at his call, the lieutenant having arrived first thing the next morning to ask them to return to town and speak with their master. Moonmeadow was resplendent in his cream robes trimmed in gold, his pale blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail behind his head. He looked every bit the noble it was said he was back in Celene.
“You are most gracious, Master Moonmeadow,” offered Lauryl, smiling. “It was a pleasure to take this course of action for you.”
“Save… one… situation in particular,” Moonmeadow said, eyeing Ielena. The normally perky elf was quiet this morning, particularly in her master’s presence. She had come here to serve with Avlan, and now Avlan was no more. Each meeting served to remind her of that fact.
After a moment in which to remember Avlan, Moonmeadow sighed softly. “It has come to my attention that you have spoken with Gelch Tilgast.” He smiled faintly at the looks of surprise that passed around the room. “Never mind how, but realize this – if the mine managers have taken an interest in you, it means that you could easily be pulled into their games. As it stands, you already know something of the machinations of Balabar Smenk. Do not be surprised if Tilgast and his sordid friends decide to use you to accomplish their goals.”
“Use us?” asked Graven, quirking a brow. “We would have to agree to be used, would we not?”
“Not necessarily,” Moonmeadow replied. He shook his head faintly. “Simply acting against Smenk will be seen as a benefit for them and worthy of their support. Anything you accomplish against him weakens his hand in the situation here in Diamond Lake. All is balanced on a pinhead, and Smenk has played far too aggressively recently not to have been noticed by the others.” He smiled. “It is like a game of three-player Dragonchess. He acts, you react. The others capitalize and take from both. Be wary of what you do and how you do it, lest you be taken advantage of, used as pawns in their game, and thrown away when a rook comes calling.”
“We will not be so easily discarded, Master,” Graven replied in a dark tone.
“I suspect not. However, I am telling you this because you are being pulled in against your will. I have kept myself clear of the machinations of this place since my arrival and that is why none of the others have any idea which way my loyalties lie in terms of their games. In truth, I have no loyalties to any of them and care not which of them rules this forsaken pit, so long as the silver is mined and arrives at our holdings in Greyhawk as it should. Let them fight it out, so long as the carts continue to move. I care not which ass sits on the top of the heap.”
The others grinned at his imagery and nodded. “However, Isendur tells me that he has spoken to Allustan recently and that you are likely to try something regarding Dourstone Mine.”
Again the party members eyed one another, curious as to how Master Moonmeadow knew so much. He ignored the looks, concentrating on the situation at hand. “Ragnolin Dourstone is not known for his willingness to work with others, and he will not likely take to any attempt to get into his mine. Think carefully on this before you continue your activities. If you act against his will, you make an enemy of a mine manager. Your tenuous connection to Tilgast may suffer, and if he suffers by connection, you will suffer thus doubly. Go cautiously.”
“I understand,” Graven said.
“It is important that the lot of you realize what I mean. I have said it before and I say it here, now. Your actions reflect upon me. If you make an enemy of Ragnolin Dourstone, you will make of him an enemy of mine. I have no wish to be drawn into this, but I have no wish to stop you from your investigations, either. Some of the things you have told me have me worried enough to see this through.”
He looked around meaningfully.
“Simply be careful.”
“You have our word,” replied Lauryl. Nearby, Celise and Ielena nodded.
“Go then, and may the Seldarine bless your efforts.”
---
Dourstone Mine stood near the back of one of the highest hills in town. On the next hill over stood the cemetery, where dark-clad cultists of Wee Jas wandered, keeping out vagrants and burying the dead after their tithe had been collected. Slightly below this and to the west, the Dourstone complex offered a stark reminder as to the purpose of Diamond Lake. Its high walls surrounded a complex of buildings where carts and horses were stored, ore was weighed and sorted, and tailings were tossed into an ever-growing pile beside the mine entrance. Two dwarven guards stood watch outside the gates, clad in scale armor and bearing axes and hammers as the guard chose. They switched out every four hours, the relieved men then standing a watch on the wall surrounding the place, such that there were always at least four sets of eyes on the road outside, guarding the way in.
An industrious place, it constantly rang with activity. Mine carts came and went, clacking along on rails that led into the massive maw of the mine itself. A variety of trails led into the different buildings in the courtyard, but all carts went in only two directions – into the buildings, or back into the mine. Grubby, but generally happy miners pushed them or snapped whips over donkey backs to get the loads where they needed to go, singing work songs to keep in time with one another.
Ielena spent much of the next day crouched behind several bushes not far from the Dourstone Mine entrance, but away from the cemetery. It would do no good to be spotted and called out by the cultists when all she wanted to do was find out what the schedules at the mine were.
When the troupe got together that evening at The Hungry Gar to make their plans, Ielena was dusty, tired and displeased. “I don’t think we’re going to get in there,” she said simply. “The guards are too regular and too many. The courtyard always has people inside. We can’t go unnoticed.”
“Then we get noticed,” said Graven.
“I thought the whole idea was not to upset Dourstone himself?” the rogue asked. “What was the point of me spending the day out there watching, then?”
“Now that we know their patterns, it is obvious that we can’t just saunter in there unobserved. If that is the case, we still have to get in there. Do you know of any other options? We can’t simply kill the guards, Ielena.”
“I wouldn’t suggest that! I just don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Graven turned and looked at Melinde’ who had joined them from reporting their activities to the Garrison. “We have a paladin with us,” he said, smiling at her. “I saw we use that to our advantage.”
Melinde’ eyed him curiously. “What are you getting at?”
Graven smiled.
---
“Are you certain this is going to work?” Lauryl adjusted herself again where she sat. The wooden boards of the cart they’d purchased from the general store were creaking with the weight of two kegs of strong ale, the liquid sloshing around inside audibly with the bumps and jolts of the road. Next to her, Graven directed the draft horse that was pulling them up the hill toward the Dourstone gate. Ielena and Celise were walking nearby, with Melinde following behind, a scowl on her face.
“It will work,” Ielena replied, grinning. “Dwarves and ale go well together.”
“I’m not so certain of this,” Melinde’ muttered. “Bribery and a threat to the safety of the mines are not necessarily connected.”
“Perhaps not,” Graven replied, shrugging. “But one might make the other more palatable, if you know what I mean?”
The gate came into view and the two guards standing there turned idly to watch them, their expressions that of boredom beneath their beards. One shifted to lean on the haft of his hammer when they stopped in front of the gates, Graven dropping from the seat to smile and bow.
“Good even, gentlemen. We have come to speak to Master Dourstone, if he is around?”
One dwarf eyed him curiously and then shrugged in his heavy scale armor. “He ain’t around. Don’t come but fer the mornin’ inspection. Ye ken speak at him in the mornin’ if he’s int’rested.”
“Well, you see there is a problem with that,” suggested Graven, smiling faintly. “We have reason to suspect there is a threat deep within your mine and have come to ask permission to investigate it. Timing,” he added, “is of the essence, you see?”
Behind him, Celise moved to one of the kegs and opened the tap, pouring herself a foaming mug of ale. She proceeded to blow the foam off and take a drink. The two dwarves were instantly watching. One even licked his lips.
Graven turned and smiled at the others. “Ah, yes. You see, we have come with libations to gift Master Dourstone with in exchange for his… ah… permission.”
Behind him, Celise finished her draught and wiped her lips. “Ahhh… Sorry. Thirsty. Want some?”
The two dwarves looked at one another and then at the gate behind them before shrugging. “Aye,” one said, reaching around behind him to pull a drinking horn off his belt.
Lauryl leapt down and took it, filling it from the keg as the other produced a battered mug from a leather pouch at his side. Ielena helpfully took it and filled it up when Lauryl was finished, offering it back to its stout owner once she had. Both saluted the party and drank it down, belching happily when it was done and commenting on the quality.
“Good, strong, Dwarven ale,” Graven said, smiling expansively. “Nothing but the best, I assure you.”
Ielena stepped forward again and sketched a bow. “Since Master Dourstone isn’t here, might we leave the kegs with you to pass on to him in our name?” She paused. “Unless, of course, you’d be willing to take the kegs in exchange for letting us take a look around inside?”
The guards eyed their newly empty mugs and then the kegs before turning to look back at the young rogue. One licked his lips and grinned. “Sounds like a fair shake. Whattya say be down there, aye?”
“Undead creatures, the likes of which could potentially threaten everyone in this mine should they get loose,” Graven replied seriously. Melinde’ approached and nodded at the two. Her expression was severe, displeased as she was at the means of getting into the mine. Still, her presence reassured the two.
“Well, if’n the Garrison be havin’ somethin’ ta do wi’ it, I be sure ole Dourstone wouldn’t mind, eh?” The speaker looked at his companion, who eyed the kegs thirstily. He nodded a moment later. “Right, then. In ye go.” Turning, he yelled up at the interior guards to open the gate and come tank up.
“We’ll leave the cart and horse with you,” Ielena said, grinning. “Just make sure they’re waiting for us when we come out, hmm?”
The dwarves nodded, moving to pour themselves another mug of ale as the gates began to creak open. Once the guard who’d opened it noticed the kegs of ale, he moved forward, producing a drinking horn of his own from beneath his full beard and speaking in their guttural language, ignoring the party.
Ielena smirked at the others and strode confidently into the mine yard, looking around at the industry taking place even at this late an hour. Carts were being pushed or pulled into the warehouses and the lights inside the mine glittered like stars from within the massive entrance. Dwarves wandered here and there about their duties.
“Not so difficult if you know what to play on,” Ielena said once they were inside.
“I still do not think this is the proper means to gain access,” muttered Melinde’.
“Oh, come on. We’ll find a foreman and you can use your official position to get us further inside.”
Heading inside the mine, they found themselves in a large cavern with a number of passages heading seemingly randomly beneath the surface. A large overhang held an overseer’s workspace, and a number of miners made their way about the place. The mostly Elven group instantly drew stares and shortly after their entrance, a self-important looking dwarf made his way to them and stood in their path, glaring.
“An’ what be the likes of ye doin’ in me mine?” he demanded.
“Well met,” Lauryl said, stepping forward and offering a bow. “We have come to investigate rumors of disturbances beneath these mines.”
“What disturbances?”
Lauryl smiled. “We have reason to believe there are undead hidden within your mine and have come to confirm their presence and, if possible, destroy them.”
“Do ye have a pass from Dourstone?” The overseer looked them over. “An’ if there was such a thing in this mine, I’d ‘ave ‘eard about it by now.”
“As I said, they are rumors at this point. We have come to ascertain their truth or fiction.”
“There ain’t none. I’d know if there’d been any rumors. Ye heard a lie,” the overseer said, putting his fists on his belt. “Now, kindly get yer tree-huggin’ arses out of me mine!”
“There is no need to get offensive,” Lauryl said, put off by the insult.
“There ain’t no need fer a buncha Elfie types ta be runnin’ about muckin’ up me mine, neither! Get ye hence!”
“Now, see here,” Lauryl began, only to be cut off by Melinde’, who stepped forward. “Good sir, as you can see, not all of us are Elves. That is beside the point, however. There are rumors that there are undead and we have come to investigate. Would you like to be the one to explain why a troupe of undead-hunters, sent on behalf of the town to investigate such rumors, were denied, only to have the supposed undead escape wherever they are at and start murdering your miners?”
The overseer glanced about at the slowly growing crowd of miners, whose eyes widened at these words and began mumbling.
“Ye see? Ye’ve already caused havoc an’ ye ain’t even come far!”
“I ask you again,” Melinde’ asked. “Do you wish to be the one responsible for such a thing?”
The overseer gnawed his lip for a moment, eyeing the muttering dwarves gathered around at the commotion and then held up a fist. “Right then! Ye go about yer bloody business and leave the miners enough alone! I’ll be lookin’ into these rumors, ye hear? I find out ye’re lyin’ and there’ll be hell to pay!”
Melinde’ smiled and nodded. “Now that we have your permission, would you be so kind as to point out a section of the mines that have not been active of late, or which your men avoid for some reason?”
“There’s that closed off bit not far down,” one miner said uncertainly, looking around the crowd that was now steadily attracting attention. “Got it all boarded up an’ signs sayin’ not ta go in…”
The other miners in the area nodded and began muttering about what might be down that way that they’d had to close it off. The overseer’s face started turning red. “FINE! Go an’ investigate if’n ye wish it! Jes’ get goin’! We got quota’s to fill! Get yer arses back to work, damnit!” The last was aimed at the dwarves standing around.
The dwarf who mentioned the boarded up hallway eyed them as the others went back to work, the overseer stomping back toward his work area atop the stairs nearby. “I’ll be takin’ ye, I suppose. This way.” He set off, the others following in his footsteps.
“’ere’s the place,” the miner said, nodding at a wall of badly-nailed boards. A sign stuck into the ground said “Do Not Pass.” The dwarf eyed the strangely bad construction and shrugged. “Went up ‘bout six months ago. No one thought nothin’ of it. Tis Dourstone’s mine an’ I heard he ‘ad a group of his own men do the excavation. Next few weeks, no one could come through this hall. After that, this was ‘ere, boarded up.”
Lauryl eyed the construction. “This is hardly standard quality for dwarves,” she offered.
“Aye. Makes me think it weren’t our kind,” he said. “Can’t say it’s much appreciated, bein’ an eyesore an’ all.” He looked back up the passage, toward the main cavern. “Well, I done me score. Ye knows where ta find it. I’m off ta me work.”
“You have our thanks,” replied Graven, nodding. “It will not be forgotten.”
“Ye jes’ do what ye came ta do. If’n there’s something’ nasty beyon’ that there bit, ye get rid of it. I got a wife an’ three bairns ta go home to.”
“We will do so,” replied Melinde’. “Be safe.”
“You an’ your’n, as well.” The miner headed off the way they’d come, leaving them to ponder the badly constructed wall.
“Nothing for it but to tear it down,” suggested Graven, reaching up to grab a piece of wood and pulling. It gave easily, suggesting it wasn’t as sturdy as even its shoddy construction suggested. In a matter of moments, the others had moved in to assist and the way was made open. Beyond, a steeply descending passage could be seen, crudely hacked out of the stone. Graven looked at the others, raised an eyebrow in curiosity, and led the way. “Celise, if you will provide the light?”
Celise snapped her fingers and the end of her sunrod began to glow. They began to move forward.
After moving in a generally straight line downward, the group found themselves staring at an elevator suspended by a thick chain. Four chains rose from a wood platform through a central pillar with four rings in it, providing a stable means of descent. A thick spool of chain was looped around a central ratchet and catch system, held into place with a simple pull bar that served as a catch. After Ielena inspected it to be certain it wouldn’t collapse under their weight, they assembled around its center and Graven began ratcheting them downward…
Another unspecified distance passed in silence but for the clanking of the chains and the ratchet system. Finally, they passed through what was the roof of a large cavernous chamber and began to descend into a pillared darkness. Three directions led to walls a short distance away, with doors down short passages. The fourth led to a large open, circular chamber with three ledges and a stair overlooking a darkened pool. The entire place was lit by torches, giving it a strange glow and proving that the pool was filled with black liquid that eerily reflected Celise’s light source.
As the platform touched down and before the party could do anything, the light source went out and the group was plunged into inky blackness. A moment later, Lauryl yelped as a blade caught on her chainmail and cut into her. Chaos broke out.
Lauryl shoved against the figure she felt in the darkness nearby, feeling the blade slip from her armor. Clutching her side, she felt the warmth of blood and cursed in her mother’s tongue, whipping her bastard sword over her head and slashing it around in the pitch blackness.
“What happened?” asked Ielena, grunting a moment later and then screaming in pain.
“They’ve cancelled out my spell!” Celise called a moment later. “It is too powerful for me to counteract!”
“Move forward!” commanded Graven, pulling his chain off and wrapping it around his fists. Not knowing where his companions were limited his ability to whip it around in lethal arcs, so he fell into a secondary fighting position. “Such spells only affect a certain area. If we can get out…” He grunted then, feeling a blade nick his cheek, dodging instinctively as it flashed towards him.
Melinde’, near the back of the group, concentrated a moment and then scowled. “There is great evil here,” she told the others.
“Later,” Lauryl replied, wracking her brain for a counterspell and lashing about with her blade. The entire time, she whipped her sword to and fro, just in case. “Keep speaking. We will know where the others are!” Her blade caught on something in front of her and she grinned ferally, knowing no one she cared for was there. Shoving with all of her might, she felt the blade sink further and the figure it had sunk into pulled away. A gurgling sound followed and she continued to press forward even as the one she’d hit retreated. As they exited the darkness, it revealed itself to her – a horned figure wearing chain armor draped in a red tabard bearing the symbol of Hextor, the six-armed god of carnage and slaughter. Horns protruded from his head and his skin was tined with red scales. He backed into a pillar and she ran him through, pushing up against him as blood began to run from beneath the chain mask he wore.
“Sneaking up is unworthy of your god,” she whispered, yanking the blade back and out. Behind her, Ielena gave out a fierce yell as another figure emerged from the darkness, backing away. Celise stepped forward from the darkness a moment later, uttering a word and sending a trio of bolts of light flying from her fingers, to slam into the figure and toss him from his feet. He did not get up again.
Graven and Melinde’ stepped forth moments later, looking around at the perfectly spherical area of darkness the creatures had called into being. The paladin knelt over one of the fallen and flipped the chain mask off his face, making a face and turning away before looking at the others. “Tieflings. Beings tainted with evil by a forebear. They have the ability to summon darkness from nothingness.” She looked around and then spitting on the creatures. “Servitors of Hextor. There must be a temple nearby.”
“Over here, then,” Ielena said, pointing to an open door with the symbol of that god on it. “Looks like we missed one in the fighting.”
“A delaying tactic,” Graven muttered. “We will have to be ready. They are likely expecting us.”
“The longer we wait, the more prepared they become,” Melinde’ said, anger showing in her eyes. “Hextor is the enemy of my god, Heieroneous. I must take up this fight.”
“We know,” Lauryl answered, nodding. “And we will go with you.”
Melinde’ nodded and strode toward the doorway, beyond which was likely a Hextorian force preparing for them.
“No time like the present,” Ielena said, slipping in just before the paladin.
---
Beyond the doorway was a short but wide hall leading to a chamber lined with rusted suits of platemail. Skeletons had been arranged inside the armor to fill them out, and as the troupe approached, a flurry of activity could be heard. As Graven and the others ordered themselves for combat, a hissing, growling band of humans, both male and female, gathered at the end of the hallway, holding spears, which they leveled in the party’s direction. Almost as quickly as this took place, several of the skeletal figures on the walls began moving, their armor jangling not only with their own metal plates, but with hundreds of tiny bells that rang as they jostled toward the troupe.
Seeing this, Lauryl’s hand went to her chest. A moment later, holding it out toward the creatures, she called upon Eilistraee for them to begone! Several of them fell to the ground in a crashing tangle of metal and bones, but others kept coming. The Hextorian cultists offered an angry shout and took a step into the hallway, threatening with their spears.
“Celise, now would be a good time for one of those group affecting spells,” muttered Graven.
“Certainly would. Too bad I don’t know any,” the sorceress quipped.
“Here they come!” shouted Ielena.
As the cultists charged, a ruckus in the background drew everyone’s attention. A massive figure moved into the chamber from behind, blasting through cultists and skeletal remains alike as it thundered toward the party. Four legged and low-slung, it was not obvious that the creature was a dire variant of a boar until the cultists in front panicked and stepped aside, to reveal a scarred and tusked face that was obviously angry about something and wanted to take it out on anyone it could.
“Oh, shi…” Graven felt the tusks slam into his chain-armored chest and catch. A moment later, he felt the immense strength of the creature as it flung him bodily into the wall nearby, blasting the air from his lungs.
Unperturbed, Lauryl moved into an elegant dance reminiscent of those she had offered to her goddess on quiet nights before this whole affair began. Her blade flickered and swept about in loops, each loop leaving a bloody score on the side of the immense creature, which swept its head this way and that, crashing its tusks past Ielena’s rapier and sending her staggering back as it head-butted her. Over Lauryl’s shoulders flashed more of the glowing balls of light, to impact on the creature’s tough hide like warhammer strikes, only to be ignored in the thing’s ferocity.
Graven picked himself and lashed out with his chain, aiming the spiked end at the boar’s face and being rewarded with a loud squeal as it ripped one of the creature’s eyes out of its socket. Howling in rage and pain, the thing redoubled its efforts, this time stomping at him and bouncing him off one of its shoulders. He lashed out once again, only to rebound off the wall once more, staggered from the impact.
Ielena watched the chaotic tumult and rose to her feet, staying low. When the creature turned to slam into Melinde’ as she stepped forward to aid Graven, she vaulted forward, leaping up to touch the creature’s tough spiny hide before leaping into a gyrating spin to land behind it and the line of spear-wielding cultists. In a moment, she was behind enemy lines, where she saw that there were more skeletons than Lauryl had been able to turn, and they weren’t encumbered by spears they could not easily reverse…
Finally, the combination of blade strikes, chain blows and magic reached through to the huge boar’s tiny brain to tell it that it could no longer function. It fell to the ground without warning, a last squeal echoing off the walls as it collapsed and rolled onto one bloody side.
“CHARGE!” Graven leapt over the fallen creature, releasing his chains from both wrists and lashing them into the forest of waving spears. Even now, some were lowering as Ielena went to work behind their lines and the cultists recoiled in pain from her less-than-gentle ministrations of her rapier. Beside him, Lauryl leapt into the fray as well, batting aside two of the spears, but taking one high in the shoulder before she could penetrate their line. More magical hammer strikes flew through the air, throwing cultists this way and that and blasting a skeleton into shards inside its armor.
Before long, the cultists were routed, two of them fleeing down a hall even as the party followed through. Ielena shot one, dropping him outside a pair of open double doors that were heavily laden with chains, while Celise blasted the other from his feet to keep him from getting away.
Silence fell once more and the party was left to look around and assess their wounds. Everyone but Celise was bleeding from multiple small cuts. Bruises had begun to show where the dire boar had managed to slam into them, and Graven was holding one side and gasping in pain. Despite this, he managed a healing prayer and shortly after, the rib he had broken in the fighting had knit once more. His breath returned to normal as Lauryl dealt out more healing prayers and relied upon a wand she’d purchased in town for the rest.
“Watch the hallway,” Graven said, nodding toward a pair of large double doors at the far end marked with the symbol of Hextor. “If they are going to counter attack, they will do it from there.”
“I have it,” Melinde’ said, moving to stand in the middle of the passage. Her sword and shield at the ready, she glared at the unholy symbol engraved on the far doors. “Do what you must.”
In moments, the party investigated a set of rooms to either side of the main guard room. Both were quarters, though one held mats and remnants of finery used as a communal rest area (complete with a statue of Hextor on top of a crate filled with the cultist’s belongings), while the other was more orderly and appeared to be the sleeping quarters of the tieflings the party had seen earlier. Finding nothing of interest, they moved back into the main hall.
“Smenk will have much to answer for if he knew about all this,” Graven uttered as the troupe regrouped around Melinde’.
“If he or Dourstone knew about all of this and did nothing to report it, they are both in serious trouble,” Melinde’ growled. “Let us move forward and finish this.”
Halfway down the hall, the double doors opened onto a large chamber that had obviously been the source of the dire boar. Its stench was strong here and the chains spoke to the strength necessary to keep the creature at bay. One of the guards must have come this direction to release the creature while the cultists moved to block their path. That guard had obviously not cared that his own people might be in the boar’s way…
“Main doors,” Graven said, looking down the passage, “or the side passage. Maybe we can find some other way into their temple without just knocking?”
“Perhaps,” Melinde’ replied, agreeing.
Moving as a group, they waited while Ielena inspected the door and declared it free of traps. She threw it open while Graven stepped through, ready to cleave anyone unfortunate enough to be standing there. No one was, however. A short passageway led to a blind left turn. There was no light other than Celise’ sunrod, and they began to move forward once more.
At the turn, they were ambushed yet again. A dark globe flew out at them, cloaking the entire hallway in darkness as two sets of crossbows twanged. The bolts hit the wall behind the troupe, but the tactic caused everyone to pause, and that was all the tieflings waiting for them needed. Disappearing through a door the group had only just seen before the attack took place, they slammed the door and locked it with the sound of a heavy bar being set just beyond.
“We have to find a way to neutralize that effect,” muttered Graven, backing away.
Once in the hallway, they could easily see where the globe of darkness ended, halfway down the corridor. “Ielena, can you search in there for signs of a focus for that effect? It was moving when we first saw it, which means the effect was cast upon a rock or coin of some sort. They had to have thrown it. If we can find the object the effect was put on, we can put it in a pocket and it will go away.”
“Understood,” the young rogue said. Moving forward, she slunk low to the ground and slid carefully into the darkness, using her rapier to rasp along the surface until the soft ‘tink’ of a stone rattled. Picking up what she found, she shoved it into a pocket, whereupon the darkness disappeared utterly. It revealed a small store-room with a set of stairs leading up to a door, with another door directly ahead of where the party would enter. There was no sign of their attackers.
Graven came around the corner once it was clear, the others watching the front doors to the temple to see if there was anyone coming. He checked both doors, confirming that they were locked and likely heavily barred.
“Not getting through that way. Guess we have to play by their rules, at least for now.”
“Then we do this,” Melinde’ said, moving down the hallway and putting a hand on one of the doors. “Prepare yourselves, friends. We enter profane territory hallowed to the god of slaughter. You will likely not like what you see beyond this door.”
Lauryl whispered a quick prayer to her goddess, asking for guidance and strength, and Melinde’ pulled…
The doors were bronze and decorated to look like a bas-relief of Hextor, the six-armed god of warfare. In each hand was a different implement of combat, from a sword, to a mace, to a flail and warhammer. His features were snarling in a blood rage and he appeared ready to step through the door at any moment. Melinde’ looked discomforted by the close presence of the effigy of her god’s immortal enemy, and when she pulled the doors open suddenly, they slammed against the walls with a resounding boom.
“It is about time you showed yourselves,” a voice called from deep within. Torches lined the dark stone walls of a sand-lined pit directly ahead of them. In the middle, a fifteen foot tall statue of Hextor stood in the middle of the chamber, facing a raised area ten feet above the level of the floor. A colonnaded walkway surrounded the three sides of the chamber facing the temple doors, lined with archers who were aimed and ready to fire. At the far end, standing to one side of the statue so that he could see the entry was a man in full plate decorated with the blood red image of Hextor’s holy symbol, a gauntlet clutching three arrows. Behind him stood two adjutants. Dark hulks hid in the shadows behind them. “We were beginning to get tired of waiting.”
“You do not have to wait any longer, cretin!” Melinde yelled. “Heironeous!!” She charged into the chamber, followed immediately by the others. Knowing full well that this was a trap did not slow the troupe, knowing as they did that there was no other way. They would have to trust in their gods to survive this day. The air filled with arrows and the sonorous tone of magic-filled chants…
Instantly, Melinde’s armor sprouted three arrows, fired by archers wearing chainmail masks over their faces and wearing tabards marked with Hextor’s holy symbol over chain armor. Grunting, her charge was slowed, but not stalled, and she continued to move forward. Behind her, Graven gripped his chain as he lunged into the room, looking for a means to get out of the killing zone that was the battle arena and reach his enemies up high. Nearby, Lauryl chanted a prayer that her friends recognized, feeling a sensation of lightness and support as she finished. Celise eyed the figures at the far end of the room, uttered an arcane syllable, and sent a pair of bolts whickering through the air, to slam into one of the adjutants near the priest who’d spoken. That individual staggered back, shouted hoarsely and eyed her across the room. Ielena, seeing the situation, twisted to one side as she entered the killing field, heading for one wall as she pulled a length of rope off the bottom of her pack. Tying her grappling hook to it, she flung it up to the balustrade as she reached the wall…
Graven watched as Melinde’ was feathered again with more arrows, her faith carrying her through the pain to pass the statue of Hextor and shout curses and insults up at the Hextorite priest who was hiding on the upper balcony. “COWARD!” she cried. “The lord of battle does not hide and cringe from the fight! Face me as your god would face mine!”
“Child!” the priest retorted, laughing. “Battle is about tactical advantage, and you are foolish enough to walk into the trap! Die like the fools you are!” So saying, he flung a spell at her, but her faith was strong enough to resist the sensation of ice that settled into her veins and threatened to lock her into position and be slaughtered like a sheep.
Graven too, felt a spell settle into him. Images of death and slaughter resounded through his head, the idea that he might die here, forgotten and ignored threatened to unhinge his mind and send him fleeing. With an effort of will, he countered that image with thoughts of the evil of this place escaping to destroy the town above as they threatened the party now. Moments later, the effort caused him to shout as he overcame the fear and shrugged it off – only to be shot in the shoulder for his efforts.
Lauryl saw the situation for what it was – a slaughter waiting to happen. Calling upon her god once more, she prayed for assistance against the foe, directing the answer to that prayer to the balcony above, where the archers were firing unimpeded into their ranks. A silvery spiral of light appeared near the trio of priests on the balcony in answer and a glittering scorpion of immense size stepped through, snapping one of the archers in half with it’s claw and stabbing one of the priests with it’s tail. Mayhem and chaos broke out amongst the previously haughty priests and archers, and the situation changed in an instant. “Thank you, Eilistraee,” she offered fervently.
Across the room, Celise had advanced into the withering fire, but ignored the flickering arrows whispering this way and that throughout the chamber. Instead, she focused on one of the spellcasters on the balcony, conjuring the words to memory that brought forth a horizontal pillar of flame. When it erupted, she carefully maneuvered it to face the female of the three priests, watching as she was abruptly stabbed by the appearing scorpion and then immolated in fire. She fell back, screaming for a moment before falling to lay near a throne in the shadows. The fire illuminated a pair of grayish-skinned trolls, which suddenly lunged into action, stomping toward the scorpion as it flung the upper half of the archer it had killed down into the blood soaked sands of the killing field.
With a flick of her wrist, Ielena’s grappling hook caught on the rail. Seconds later, she was climbing up into the armored face of one of the archers, who dropped his bow and drew his shortsword to counter her arrival. A deft flick of the wrist brought her rapier up into position to deflect the strike and a moment later, she rammed the point of her vibrating blade home through his hidden mouth. With a shudder and a jerk, the archer fell back, his motion pulling the chain mask off his face and revealing a demonic-looking being covered in tattoos glorifying Hextor and slaughter. With a sniff, Ielena flicked her blade, clearing the mask and blood before turning to defend against another charging archer’s blade…
Graven avoided an arrow and ducked as a flickering flail appeared in the air and nearly took his head off. Instead, the action, intended to crush his skull, smashed into his arm and ribcage, breaking bones and sending him crumpling to the ground. Shadows swept in as he cursed the priests and their foul abominations above for hiding behind the balcony’s edge. The sounds of the high priest’s laughter followed him into the darkness…
Seeing Ielena on the balcony, Lauryl moved to support her companion, continuing the litany of prayers she was reciting to boost the morale of her party and taking up the rope. She began to climb, feeling every ounce of the armor about her body as she did.
Celise turned and sent another pair of flickering bolts into the other assistant, even as he gestured wildly at the scorpion and yelled a command to the lumbering hulks of the trolls. Something was not right with them, but she could not see clearly in the half dark of the chamber.
Melinde’ called upon Heironeous’ glory, healing herself of her injuries as the high priest finally caved into her unrelenting curses and calls of cowardice. Leaping off the wall, the high priest landed in the sand next to her with a grunt before rising and facing off, his black-glowing flail against her sword. The two met in mortal combat micro-seconds later, growling and hurling epithets as they glared into the other’s hate-filled eyes. The glowing, crackling black flail moved behind her…
Ielena ducked and wove, spitting the second archer beneath his armpit as he raised his arm to cleave her head. The demonic creature stared at her in shock before blood began to bubble from beneath the mask. Yanking her blade back, she lashed out with a foot and sent him careening over the edge. Behind him, however, one of the gray-skinned trolls was lumbering toward her. The skin tone was all wrong and the expression did not look right. Rather than the blood-thirsty expression she’d always heard trolls wore when going into combat, this was slack-jawed, its eyes not even looking at her. Her skin crawled with the realization that it was already dead…
“Back!” Ielena called. “It’s not living!” Turning, the rogue tumbled off the balcony, back to the sand floor below. Landing easily, she twisted around, to see Lauryl holding forth her holy symbol and uttering words of power against such things. With a strange grunt, the troll turned from her and fell off the balcony, slamming in a pile of broken limbs and stench below. Across the room, the priestess saw her scorpion smash the other troll to pieces before being run through by the third priest’s sword. Seeing this, she began to run. There were no archers at this point, all of them having turned to fight the party as they came up to the balcony, or to fight the scorpion, which had done its job. It disappeared in a flash of silvery light and was gone.
Celise began uttering the words to another spell and then stopped, staring at her hands when she realized she could not hear anything. Complete and total silence reigned suddenly and she looked about in surprise to see what had happened. Staring at her with a smile on his face, was the last priest on the balcony, sneering at the success of his spell. Unfazed, she drew her crossbow and shot him, grinning in response when her quarrel lodged itself in his side and sent him staggering backwards.
Ielena reversed her grip on her rapier and slammed it repeatedly into the eyes of the troll thing that had fallen beside her. It was not moving, but it was better safe than sorry. When her blade began making sickening sounds reminiscent of a spoon in jelly, she stopped, but by then, the battle was nearly through.
Melinde’ was staggering from a number of blows, her armor crushed and dented in places. She bled from the mouth and nose and one hand hung limp at her side, her shield useless. Opposite her, however, the high priest was lying on the floor, her sword run through the point where the breastplate separated from the groin pieces, a crucial weakness of full plate armor. His hands were on the blade and blood flicked his lips as he continued to whisper curses and threats even as his heart stopped beating and his breath was stolen away. The high priest down, Melinde’ looked about and then fell herself, knowing the battle was over.
Lauryl charged on the remaining priest, watching as realization dawned that he was suddenly the last one alive in the chamber who fought for Hextor. Turning, he fled through a door in the balcony that had not seen before, slamming it as she arrived. Even as she pulled at the handle, she heard the heavy sound of a bar being slammed across the other side and knew she was beaten. Turning back, she surveyed the scene.
All across the balcony, archers were sprawled in positions of death. Some were snipped in two by the short-lived scorpion ally Eilistraee had granted her. Others had been run through by Ielena’s blade before her rapid retreat. One of the trolls lay in three pieces, its body unable to regrow itself in death. A massive hole in the chest told of how the scorpion had impaled it and then shredded it while it could not escape. One priestess lay nearby, horribly burned and lying in a position of utter death, thrown against the wall by the force of Celise’s flaming magic. Below, the high priest lay near Graven and Melinde’, while against one wall, Celise rested on her crossbow, dragging a potion from her belt and heading toward the fallen. On the opposite side of the room, Ielena was already poking through the remains of one of the fallen archers, quickly aware that the fight was over – at least for now…
With a last look at the door, Lauryl uttered a curse and turned to go assist her friends. Graven and Melinde’ were still breathing, at least. It looked like they’d managed to survive the attempted slaughter. Hextor’s will had been defeated in his own temple.
So why didn’t she feel vindicated?
Good to see you're back, Syrinx, and great battle scene!
Thanks for the compliment, Peruhain! It's amazing how much time can pass when you're focused on two major events you're solely responsible for...
---
Graven awoke with a jerk and a curse, instantly feeling about with one hand for the chain he kept with him at all times. It served as weapon and as a focus for his prayers in combat, much as Lauryl’s flat representation of Eilistraee done in silver and hung from a silver chain did for her. A golden symbol of Istus’ spindle hung from his neck as Lauryl’s image of her goddess did, but he focused less on it and more on his chain. It served several purposes, not the least of which was combat. As a belt, it offered him a place to hang things. Wrapped around his forearms it offered him some defense, and unleashed to lash about at his twist and pull, it was extremely dangerous to approach him. That spindles embossed with the impaled skull made up the links only endeared it more to him – it was both symbol and tool in that regard. Those who felt its touch tended not to rebel against the strands of fate Istus wove for them.
Sitting up, he wiped sand grit from his face and looked around. Lauryl sat back from her healing efforts, the silver of her magic fading into her fingers as she pulled away from the wound that had taken him down. Inside his body, he could feel the fresh tingle of magically-healed bones and flesh getting used to be normal once again. “What happened?” he asked.
“You are welcome,” Lauryl replied, eyes crinkling at the edges as she turned away. Her mouth did not match the smile, but he knew she was glad to see him up and about. She turned and began ministering to Melinde’ who was sitting up with Celise’s aid. The sorceress helped the paladin hold the vial she was drinking, eyes widening as the injuries the paladin had taken healed while she watched. Several arrows lay in the sand nearby, their black tips red with blood. The tips were dulled and a few of them were broken from Melinde’s collapse. Graven found himself nodding in recognition of the punishment the warrior woman had undergone to uphold her goddess.
Not far away, Ielena was sitting cross-legged in the sand, inventorying the useful items she’d found on the opposition once they’d fallen and the battle had come to an end. Most of it looked entirely mundane, but a variety of potion bottles and the high priest’s armor had been stacked together – magical, if Graven was a judge of Ielena’s previous exploits. He wondered what had happened to the high priest and then glanced at Melinde’, who was looking about with a baleful glance for the man.
“They nearly did you in,” Lauryl commented, stepping back and producing a wand set with the symbols of healing from her belt. She waved it slowly over his injuries, intoning a soft prayer as his lesser wounds closed and bound themselves back together. “It was close. They managed to shut Celise off from her magic for a time, allowing one of them to escape.” The attractive half-Drow turned and looked at the balcony above, letting him know where their foe had escaped to.
“Is there a way out of there?” he asked, pushing himself off as she put the wand back in a pouch for safekeeping.
“The way we came in was blocked. It is possible that it leads through.”
“Has anyone checked if he has escaped?”
“Went there a moment ago,” Ielena piped up, holding up an emerald to Celise’s glowing sunrod and inspecting it. “Nothing changed. I think he’s holed up in there, waiting for us. Likely with a couple more of his undead things.” She shuddered and cast a glance at the pile of remains that was the troll zombie she’d finished off.
“Creative force they had,” Melinde’ said, thanking Celise and downing another healing draught. She rotated her shoulders as the healing took effect, making certain her muscles did not tighten overly much as they knit once more. “Tieflings, zombies… Quite the mischief they’ve been up to.” She looked around the combat arena and then sneered at the statue of Hextor standing over it all. “Who knows what could have happened to Diamond Lake had we not come here?”
“Worse than what happened to us,” Graven replied, standing with Lauryl’s help and replacing his chain about his waist. “At least we knew what to expect.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ielena replied, placing the gem in a pouch and examining a ring she’d found. “I didn’t have a clue what would be down here. Only that there was something about a green worm, remember?”
Celise nodded. “I don’t think any of us really expected to find a temple to Hextor here,” she said quietly. “It is a little unnerving to think that such a thing could exist so close to the surface.”
“We are not close to the surface,” said Graven, looking around. “That elevator shaft brought us down at least a hundred feet, and we were that much before then.”
“You know what I mean,” Celise replied crossly. “Two hundred feet or two miles, it’s still a little too close to town for my liking.”
“That is why we are here,” Graven answered. Looking around, he spotted Ielena’s rope still stuck to the banister above. “I would have thought they would have some way to get up there…” He snapped his fingers. “That door in the storage room. It likely led up there.”
“There was a door in the corner I noticed,” offered Lauryl. “I did not examine it in our haste to get back to help you two.” She nodded at Graven and Melinde’, who nodded back.
“It is barred from this side,” Ielena said lightly. “I didn’t open it since I figured that our friend in the back rooms might use it to sneak up on us and ruin our party.”
“You call this a party?” asked Celise.
Ielena’s response was merely to stick her tongue out at the sorceress, who giggled in response.
“Well, that takes care of those approach options,” Graven said, shrugging to loosen his shoulders. “Lauryl, do you think we can get through the way your escapee went?”
“He barred the door as he went,” the half-Drow replied. “Unless we have some means of battering through…” She fell silent as Graven reached up to touch Kullen’s axe, still hanging from his pack. Nodding, she moved toward the rope. “If we do this, there is every possibility he might try to run out the other way.”
“I’ll cover that angle, never you mind,” Ielena said, standing. “Might want to put these things in some packs, though. I think most of this is magical. I’ve already put the coins and gems aside for later.”
“Nice of you,” Graven muttered.
“Don’t start, Graven,” Ielena warned. He raised his hands in surrender and began to climb the rope.
The door in question looked much like any other door they’d ever seen before. Iron bars reinforced wood planks nailed together with stout iron nails. Had it not been for the fact that Lauryl had heard the bar drop behind it before, they would likely have never known it would resist a shoulder bash. As it was, however, Graven pulled forth Kullen’s axe, gathered his thoughts, and then let loose at the door.
Immediately, they know what lay beyond was darker inclined than even the battle arena had. While that had been a place of worship and sacrifice, beyond the door had to be the center of Hextor’s temple. The scent of incense wafted through the door after the first impact, and more dark chanting could be heard, though this time, in the rapid and panicked sounds of one who has come to the end of his line and has nowhere else to go. The chanting reached a fever pitch as the axe shattered the top half of the door, and suddenly, chaos erupted once more.
Beyond, dressed in the blood-red vestments of his god, stood the remaining priest, hands held up before a black iron statue of Hextor. His words reverberated in the small space within, and before anyone could move to enter the chamber, two suits of armor moved toward the doorway to intercept, the skeletal figures within animating with a hellish glow in their eyes.
Even as Lauryl focused on her holy symbol to turn the foul beings away, Graven let loose a battle cry and swung the axe through the opening again. Bones and armor shattered as kullen’s enchanted axe tore through their frail forms, and moments later, he was in the room, facing the last remaining priest of this dark and hellish place.
The half-orc did not speak, instead relying upon his prowess with his weapon to do the talking. Lashing out, he tore across Graven’s shoulder, opening a rent in his leather jacket, but otherwise leaving him unharmed. Beneath the torn leather, the glint of chain could be seen. Graven’s return assault was as violent as it was effective. Lashing out with one end of the chain, he wrapped it around the priest’s knee and pulled, distending the joint with a loud crack, followed by the pain-filled howl of his victim. Falling, the priest grabbed at a blood-encrusted knife and caught it, bouncing his head off the floor for his efforts. Even as Lauryl and Celise moved through the half-sundered door to join the battle, it ended as the half-orc soundlessly shoved the knife into his own chest, wheezed, and died.
“That…” Celise said when it was over, “was anti-climactic.”
“Go get Ielena,” answered Graven, stepping to the man and inspecting him to make certain he was dead. “She’ll not want to be left alone for much longer and I do not trust this place to leave her such.”
Lauryl nodded and moved to head back the way they’d come. As she had suspected, there were other rooms here, but all of them turned out to be empty, save of supplies necessary to keep a temple like this fed and occupied. Bedrooms for the priests, guard rooms for their tiefling bodyguards and a private room for the high priest were all that met their roving eyes. It appeared Hextor’s servants had well and truly been put out of commission.
“Excellent,” Graven said as the others investigated the chambers. “We can stay here for the rest of the day and recouperate. Tomorrow we can take a look around. For now, at least, we’ve got limited access, two routes of approach and retreat, and plenty of supplies. Let’s get cleaned up and fed and perhaps rest a bit.”
“Good idea. I’m about out of the energies I need anyway,” replied Celise, sitting nearby and catching her breath. After the adrenaline rush of the temple and the final battle with the priest, she was ready to sit down, close her eyes, and sleep the entirety of a day away.
After a rest period in which even the elves felt the pull of fatigue calling them to sleep rather than reverie, the group got together once more to see what there was to see. Graven moved the last priest’s body out of the sanctuary and then set about spraying liberal amounts of holy water to the artifacts and altar located there. Ielena located a hidden catch that caused a weakening of her limbs when touched, but managed to avoid the worst of it, discovering a golden chalice and a silver dagger, both of which were rimed in old blood. Hidden in the cup were a pair of holy symbols of Hextor done in silver and a pearl that glowed when she touched it.
The high priest’s quarters revealed a rack of weaponry, a set of what they assumed were his personal trophies (heads of creatures killed, the teeth of vile beasts, and the shriveled claw of what at one point must have been a massive creature), and a locked chest which quickly surrendered its contents to Ielena’s masterful picking. Within were a bag of gold coins and a fist-sized gold bust of a dwarf wearing a gem-studded crown. Graven rolled his as she went on about the value and moved to the next chamber, finding it to be the storage room where they’d first encountered the tieflings who’d thrown the darkness spell at them.
“Well, this place is defeated. While I think we could sit back and applaud ourselves, there are two other doors in the main hall we never looked at,” said Graven.
“Not like we had a chance to look around when we arrived,” offered Celise, grinning. “Something about being attacked in the dark, as I recall?”
Graven offered a humorless smile. “I was there. I remember. Shall we?” He gestured for the others to move and then led the way.
Outside, in the main hall, without the darkness spells and demonic creatures attacking them, it was evident that this was a place of vile darkness. A pillared hall held three doors, one of which was that leading to the Hextorite temple, while another was unmarked and a third was decorated with the precisely illustrated symbol of a disembodied hand holding an eyeball – the symbol of Vecna, Lord of Secrets and Mysteries.
Graven could barely restrain a curse when he saw the symbol and then told the others what it meant when they offered him blank looks. “Undead, necromancers, dark magics. It is a place of darkness the likes of which you would wish you would never see.”
“Right, then let’s not go there yet,” said Ielena, heading instead into a domed area behind the elevator shaft.
Here, a large open space hung over a square pool filled with a black liquid that only just reflected the light of Lauryl’s glowing holy symbol and the sunrod Celise held up for her own light. A curving stair followed the edge of the dome, ending in three platforms at differing heights above the pool. The surface of the liquid (for it was not water, from what they could tell) evinced a chill the likes of which they had only felt in winter.
“There is a great sense of evil in this place,” said Melinde’, squinting at the power of the aura of the room.
“Is it the pool?” asked Lauryl curiously.
“All of this,” Melinde’ said quietly. “Though the pool certainly seems to be a great part of it.” She stopped and stared as Ielena quietly dipped the tip of her rapier in the water and then pulled it back swiftly. Letting go, she shook her hand as if it had been stung.
“Whatever it is, it’s cold enough to send the sensation up my blade,” the young elf said, staring at the black liquid. “And it did not react to my blade. No ripples. Nothing.”
“Leave it for now, then,” Graven suggested. Turning to Celise, he added, “Unless you might know something of this?”
Celise shrugged. “I am a sorceress. The study of magic is only a pass-time. Not my every fiber like a book-caster.” She absently caressed her black cat, which purred at the attention.
“Right. A mystery in front of a temple of mysteries,” said Ielena, sheathing her blade and looking back into the pillared section. “I think we should see what’s behind that unmarked door. Just in case it’s a closet or something.”
The others moved to follow her, not deigning to argue. They watched as she looked the non-descript door over and then slid it open, staring in confusion at what lay beyond.
While the main room was worked and had the appearance of a temple of sorts, the passageway beyond was little more than unworked stone, natural in shape and left entirely to nature’s formation. It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the place. Even the door looked as if it had only recently been applied to the opening. Looking back at the others, she caught their curious gazes before turning and heading in to look further.
The passageway ahead curved a bit and headed slightly downward, suggesting a descent into the depths below even the temple, which was quite a distance below the mines above. As she moved, the walls closed in until they had little choice but to travel in single file, the rogue using her night senses to look into the shadows beyond the silvery light of Lauryl’s symbol and the golden light of Celise’s sunrod. Eventually, it opened a bit, into a small cavern choked with stalagmites and with stalactites hanging from the ceiling.
“Strange,” Lauryl offered from the rear of the group. “Do you think this is new? It doesn’t look worked…”
Before anyone could respond, however, a figure appeared from the shadows behind a column of rock, shrieking a war cry and swinging a massive stone club at Ielena. In moments, the chamber echoed with the shouts and grunts of combat as three eyeless creatures leapt out from their hiding places in the rocks and attacked.
Ielena was clubbed about and fell back against a stalagmite, bouncing off the hard surface and sliding to the ground even as Graven unleashed his chain from his waist and wrapped it around the head of one of their attackers. It gurgled in pain and then fell to the ground as he yanked back, breaking its neck and sending it toppling to the ground. Its stone Morningstar-like weapon thumped on the floor.
Lauryl lunged into action, moving carefully across the cluttered stone floor so as to not lose her footing. The care with which she moved nearly cost the half-drow her life as one of the creatures’ weapons cracked painfully across her shoulder, but the return blow from her bastard sword lopped its arm off and sent the weapon looping almost lazily through the air. Even as the thing’s head turned to face the stump where its arm had been, she ran it through and it fell to the ground.
Celise whispered a word of power and several motes of light whickered through the air, battering the last standing of the creatures and slamming it against one of the stalagmites nearby. It fell to its knees, whimpering in pain, but she gave it no quarter. Another set of flickering lights blasted into its chest and sent it falling backwards, to lie motionless between a large rock and the stubby point of a wet stalagmite.
“Where did they come from?” Graven asked, poking behind the various stones spread throughout the chamber. The creatures were humanoid in shape, with a bestial face. They looked like degenerate, stooped humans with large heads and craggy features, save for the fact that none of them had eyes of any kind. Where eyes should have been, two depressions made it obvious they had never had sight to begin with.
“Grimlocks,” Celise said, kneeling over the one she’d slain and then wiping her hands off on a towel she produced from her pack. “Dwellers of the underworld. Bestial, dangerous, but usually enslaved by those forces more powerful than them. The orcs of the underworld, if you think about it.”
Graven stared at her. “I thought you said you didn’t spend a lot of time studying books.”
“Not for spells, silly,” the attractive human woman answered, grinning. “I happen to be fascinated with the various forms of life is all. I remember reading about them in a treatise on life in the underworld.”
“Fascinating.”
As soon as Lauryl had finished healing the rapidly purpling bruises on Ielena’s chest and shoulder, they moved on. This time, they watched the shadows carefully, in case more of them came about.
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Aww, maaaaan! Now our group is at practically this exact point of AoW...no more reading for the Courtney, so as not to spoil the plot.
I like your characterization of Kullen; our group ended up interacting more with the necromancer than the half-orc, so it was interesting to share in another party's experiences.
I hope to read another installment soon.