Tale As Old As Time

by brennasaur

Morrigan, M'akzwehl, and the rest of the Unpredictables join forces with a Drow dissenter and her wizard messenger in an attempt to escape to the Promenade of the Dark Maiden.

The silence of the ruins should not have surprised Morrigan. They were essentially the same as the ones the party found on the way to Gracklestugh, but the familiar feeling of dread creeped up her spine as she listened to the huffs of her companions falling to the ground behind her. She looked back and surveyed the ledge they had all dropped down from. It seemed strange that the city was cut off from the rest of the Underdark in such a way, but she had to learn to quell her disbelief. Nothing ever made sense down here. Staring out at the deserted town before her again, Morrigan took in a large building to the south and scattered homes and what may have once been assorted shops along the rest of the landscape. Benches were placed haphazardly in the unused streets, and a deep layer of dirt covered most surfaces. Yazrena, a priestess of Eilistraee and their guide to the surface, smiled at them brightly, interrupting the half elf's musings.

"Well, now. I think it would behoove us to search for a place to rest here tonight. Perhaps we can discern if there are any threats about as we do so."

Morrigan saw Milo raise his hand, rolling back and forth from his heels to his tiptoes. When Yazrena dropped her gaze to his own, he pointed toward the south-most part of the town.

"Can we explore there first?"

The drow laughed, a soft and tinkling sound. She knelt down, cupped the halfling's face in her hands, and squeezed his cheeks.

"You are inquisitive aren't you? Well, I suppose if no one has any objections, it is early yet. We can clear this building for potential issues before we move on to preparing a place to rest."

Morrigan heard a low voice mumble something about a hut, and cut her eyes to the left to see M'akzwehl shrugging to himself. She purposely bumped into his side, giving him a small smile.

"You okay?"

M'akz stood up straighter and adjusted the strap of his guitar on his shoulders.

"Fine. Place gives me the heebies, and I'm not quite sure why we're lookin' for beds, but here we are."

Morrigan nodded, thinking again of the temple in between Blingdenstone and the 'Stugh.

"Why do I have the feeling we're about to walk into another mist-filled skeleton ambush?"

The bard shuddered, but recovered quickly, poking her between her ribs with a grin.

"It wasn't all bad, huh?"

Rolling her eyes but ribbing him back with a sharp elbow, Morrigan gave a noncommittal shake of her shoulders.

"I don't really remember. I was a bit tied up."

The fighter then winked at her lover and quickened her pace. She felt a hand grab at her ass and she stopped, facing M'akzwehl with her hands on her hips. A smirk took over his face as Morrigan cocked an eyebrow. His eyes roamed over her, and she felt completely exposed despite being fully dressed. Stepping closer, M'akz grabbed her hands and kissed her knuckles.

"You're gorgeous."

Morrigan felt heat rise from her chest to the tips of her pointed ears as a blush tinted her alabaster skin rose gold. M'akzwehl grinned again.

"Gods, I love that pink so much."

Swatting at him, the half elf pulled her hands from his grip with a playful growl but leaned in for a quick kiss. Morrigan grabbed his guitar strap and yanked him in front of her.

"Come on, you. Don't wanna be late to the skeleton slaying."

The two hurried to catch up with the rest of the group, and soon they were left standing in front of a sprawling, scorch-tinged building. Without hesitation, Yazrena entered with Milo dancing close behind. The others filed in, and they were greeted with a passageway blocked off with a glowing barrier. Recognizing it instantly for something magical, the casters in the group gathered around it. Neia peered into its depths, seemingly seeing nothing beyond it. She turned to the group and addressed them with indifferent ice.

"This seems to be a seal for undeath. We should probably avoid it."

Hearing this, Yazrena went rigid.

"Undeath? No, we can't avoid it. It is my sworn duty to Eilistraee to find these souls and release them. Is there any way we can get past this?"

Milo stepped up to Yazrena and gently touched her hand.

"Miss Yazrena… maybe we can just- go around?"

The drow woman brightened and agreed with vehemence.

"Friends, your halfling is right. We'll find another way into the room. Come along."

Morrigan's shoulders were tense. She couldn't believe their luck; she had just been kidding when she mentioned the skeletons to M'akzwehl. Now it seemed they were actually going to have to fight something, and though her rage had not been satiated after their last battle, she was not quite ready to go at it again. It took a lot out of her, and she just wanted one easy day. She didn't argue their leader's orders, however, and started to move forward. She almost ran into Dunham and Quinn, who were still motionless by the door. They were whispering quietly, and she thought she picked up snippets about fiends and aberrations. Seeing the rest of the party pass them by sprung them into action, though, and they all ended up in front of a locked door. Yazrena turned her gaze on Morrigan.

"You seem like the strong one here. Mind taking care of this door for us?"

The fighter felt instant pride and warmth towards the drow. She pulled her maul from her shoulders and flashed a real, toothy smile.

"With pleasure."

Morrigan swung the hammer and it made a solid connection with the door. Expecting a satisfying crunch of wood, the half elf was disappointed when the impact was met with silence. The door stood for a moment, and Morrigan almost thought maybe it was enchanted like the barrier they left behind, but eventually it loosened from its hinges and fell to the ground. This sound too had been stolen, and Morrigan whipped around to her party, eyes looking for an answer to a question she wasn't sure how to ask. When they landed on Gwynt, he shrugged.

"I thought we might not want the undead to hear us breaking into their hiding spot."

Sighing in frustration, Morrigan wordlessly cursed magic. What was the point of hitting something if you didn't get to hear it break? Quinn pushed past her, but stiffened inside the doorway. Morrigan tried to see over her shoulder, but the only thing she could make out in the room was a carpet of mushrooms. It wasn't until she stepped into the room herself that she heard the singing. It sounded like the young elves in her village, mindlessly sharing songs as they tossed rocks into puddles or basked in the sunlight streaming down between the canopy of the trees. It made her uneasy.

M'akzwehl stopped beside her, turning his head to the side to decipher the melody. This concentration did not last long, however, as the bard shrieked in terror, tugging on Morrigan's hand that still held the maul. She looked down with a start, seeing a rather sizable spider creeping to the top of one of the fungal growths. Without a second thought, Morrigan brought the hammer down on the creature, eliciting a cracking sound from the fungi buckling under the weight and a wet squelch as the spider was crushed between the two. Morrigan surveyed her handiwork, only curling her nose a bit when she looked back at the head of the maul and saw a couple of still twitching legs hanging on to the smooth material there. M'akz squeezed her arm in appreciation, and Morrigan lifted her shirt to wipe the mess away.

Looking back at the group, M'akzwehl and Morrigan were surprised by the scene that was building as they dealt with their small trauma. There was a flickering form hovering in the air with its head facing the floor. Gwynt stepped forward, trying to speak to it.

"Are you a ghost?"

Instantly, the figure stopped flashing and hovered closer to the ground, almost looking like a normal humanoid. It seemed like it was looking right at Gwynt as it spoke.

"Hello?"

Gwynt opened his mouth to reply, but the form powered on as if the adventurers weren't standing right in front of it.

"Oh, I must be dreaming. Just gotta get back to bed."

With that, the figure walked through a closed door, leaving the group to gape at each other in horror. In silent agreement, all eight of them exited the space using the same opening, and found a hallway filled with more closed rooms. After a short discussion, each member of the party took a door to themselves and opened it. Most gave way to completely charred rooms; having perished in an ages-before fire. Dunham, however, swung his door wide to find a flooded area smelling of decay and excrement. A few books remained unharmed in the chaos, and when the paladin announced his finds, Milo ran over and picked one of them up.

"Guys, it's an Underdark fact book!"

The halfling cracked the old and disused spine, and read a few passages aloud to his friends as they travelled further down the hallway. Further searching produced a room with healing supplies, and yet another in the biggest state of disarray they had seen yet. M'akzwehl stood at its threshold, eyes locked on a pile of bones in one of the corners. When it didn't move, he relaxed and turned back to the others just as the everpresent singing of the unseen females reached a crescendo. Following the sound, the short journey brought them to a dead end with a small stone door in its center. Milo stepped forward.

"Should I check it out?"

Without waiting for an answer, his deft hands reached for the latch, but M'akz objected.

"You shouldn't go alone, Milo. If that's the other entrance to the passage that was sealed- we have no idea what dangers could be in there. Hang on."

Mela D, who had been peacefully hanging from the bard's guitar, stirred suddenly and flew over to Milo's shoulder. M'akz turned to Morrigan.

"Mor, hold onto me."

Morrigan instantaneously dropped her hammer before scooping M'akzwehl into her arms. He went still as his sight transferred to his familiar, and with that, Milo undid the latch to the door. The party took an involuntary step back as mist rolled out from the entryway, cutting off all sight into the room. A worried Yazrena caught Milo by the arm before he disappeared into the room, closing her eyes and whispering a prayer to Eilistraee.

"You have the blessing of my goddess. Go with caution."

Milo smiled brightly at her and left their view. M'akz attempted to convey the things Mela D was seeing and experiencing, but as the mist was almost completely up to Milo's height, things were still very much shrouded in mystery. All that could really be made out in the room were a pair of swaying girls- possibly humanoid by their shape and size. Impatient, the rest of the group ducked into the doorway, taking great care not to alert the girls to their presence. Mela D returned to M'akz, and the taller members of the party were met with a mostly empty room. It seemed as though it used to be filled with art and tapestries, but now the walls laid bare. What looked to be alcoves where shrines once stood were spiderwebbed and covered in dust. Debris littered the ground, and as the group tried to circumvent it all, Quinn's foot struck a sizable rock. The kick sent it careening to a far wall, bouncing off from there and striking the floor near the ghostly children.

A heavy stillness fell upon the room as all of them waited for the aftermath. The singing ended, and Morrigan heard rustling as she and her companions drew their weapons, not sure what to expect. One of the girls turned her head as both of them began to scream, and they ran off and disappeared into the corner of the room. Quinn made a move to follow their trajectory, but was stopped in her tracks by the appearance of five new figures. A voice dripping with concern boomed through the circular room as they materialized, filling the air with sound once again.

"What about the children?"

Another replied to the first, angrier and somehow louder.

"There's no time- we have intruders!"

At that, the ghostly forms turned to the adventurers, and Morrigan felt a cold chill run down her spine. She had seen apparitions before, but these were not the gentle fallen souls from Blingdenstone, or even the ooze-controlled spirits they had fought in its outskirts. There was an existential angst to these, and the half elf could feel the unknowing rolling off of them. It seemed as though they were quite sure they were still alive, despite having met some obviously tragic end. Morrigan saw herself in these spectres. She began to wonder how different being brought back to life was from being a ghost. Was all the fighting that she continued to do in vain? Was she already too far gone for any of this to matter? The motivation she had once felt as she drew GrimmBlade was seeping out from her- along with something more. As she spiraled, her limbs grew heavier; but she didn't know how awry things were until she saw the look on M'akzwehl's face.

An emotional gasp ripped her gaze away from the ghosts for a moment, and it was then that she locked eyes with the man she loved. His stone grey skin turned a shade closer to pearl as he watched her, and his eyes looked like they were shining. Why would he be crying? He moved his mouth, but in the cacophony, Morrigan was unable to make out what he was saying. He raised an arm and pointed behind her, and when she turned, she saw one of the ghosts had come closer, recognizing her as easy prey. It stepped through her, and Morrigan knew at once it meant to possess her. Golden eyes rolling, she tried to focus on something, anything. A voice cried out above the din in her head.

"Morrigan!"

The fighter snapped her chin up and saw Dunham reaching out to her. Whatever he had sent her way, be it magic or the bond of their friendship, gave her a tether to push the ghost's influence out. Furious, the form exited her body and grabbed her face with surprisingly corporeal hands. A burning sensation took over Morrigan's cheeks, and she cried out in pain. Her voice came out hoarse and tired, and by the time the spirit had finished with her, she felt an exhaustion she had never known settle down to her bones. What had this figure done to her? It felt as though just looking at it had stolen something vital from her. In spite of her worry, she raised GrimmBlade high, ready to strike. With the steel at eye level, she saw her mother's reflection staring back at her. She swiveled to survey the space behind her, but saw nothing besides Gwynt, looking quite a few shades paler than his normal blue.

As she remembered the threat behind her, she returned her focus to the front, but found that the ghost had seized its opportunity to wreak havoc on another target. Morrigan wanted to run towards it, wanted to attack, but her mind was stuck on the visage she saw in her sword. She picked it back up and looked into it, seeing a lined and pale face framed by brittle copper hair dusted with white. This disconnect from her mother's mousy brown locks didn't track until Morrigan opened her mouth to speak- and saw the reflection do the same. Suddenly, the loss of energy and the pain dripping from M'akzwehl made sense. The ghost had taken something from her. It took her youth. The half elf sheathed GrimmBlade, and that was the last thing she could recall before her mind went blank.

Morrigan wouldn't remember going into a rage; drawing the Moonbow from her back and firing at foes and possessed friends alike. She was totally lost in her own head as M'akz came up to heal her, attempting to bring her back with a gentle smack on her backside as he shakily attempted speaking to her.

"You're still gorgeous to me, love."

The battle went on, and Morrigan went with it, fighting off of instinct. Despite her disconnection and the sudden wall of flame conjured between her and half of the party, she managed to lock on to both Quinn and Neia, who had their bodies overtaken one after the other- taking them down but losing the last ghost in the process. As the spectre fled from the room, so too did Morrigan's anger. It floated away from her like the butterflies Yazrena had mistakenly cast instead of a damaging spell. The half elf finally crumpled to the ground; defeated. The next thing she knew was M'akzwehl's hands on her back and his lips in her hair as he murmured to her.

"You're gonna be fine. You're going to be fine. It's okay. Please be okay."

For a second she forgot anything was wrong. Then the shocking view of her own face floated into her mind, and she stiffened under her lover's pressure. She wanted his comfort more than anything right now, but her thoughts drifted to how she must look to him; how her skin and braid must feel. He didn't seem to notice her apprehension towards his soothing as he turned from her, calling for Dunham and Yazrena with urgency in his voice. She wanted to tell him not to worry, but she was just so tired. She couldn't make her mouth form the words. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dunham leaving Quinn and Neia, who were getting to their feet and attempting to investigate where the last threat disappeared. Yazrena appeared from nowhere, looking down at Morrigan with pity. M'akz stood up, facing the pair.

"Is this- can we do anything to help her? To reverse this magic?"

Yazrena placed a soft hand on his shoulder, trying to smile.

"I'm sure everything will be o-"

M'akzwehl shook her off violently, voice rising.

"It will not be okay. I know you don't have any concept of this, but she's not like you. We're not like you. Whatever happened to her- it's a quarter of her life. It's… it'd be like 200 or 400 years for you, Yazrena."

Hurt and an alarming fear crossed Yazrena's face. Dunham intervened, trying to bring M'akz down.

"I'm sure there's something, M'akzwehl. I know- hm. I think if someone could cast a restoration spell on her it would fix it, but it's going to have to be powerful. More powerful than I think any of us have. But it's something."

This seemed to enrage the bard even more. He dropped back down to Morrigan's level, this time putting his face up to hers. His grey eyes were alight with something Morrigan had never seen in them before as he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"I love you."

M'akz kissed her cheek as he pulled away, and when she could make out his features again, she noticed he had disguised himself to look closer to her age. Tears danced at the edge of her eyes, and she struggled not to grab him and hold him close as he turned to Yazrena once more.

"You- you're a healer. You heal. That's how you serve your goddess right? And where is that goddess right now? What is she doing? Shouldn't she have the power to help her?"

The drow took a step back, and Morrigan wasn't sure if she was offended by his sudden disregard for Eilistraee or- if she was just as shaken as he was. She pulled herself together enough to give him a curt nod.

"I will pray on this. I am sure she can give us some kind of guidance that will help, child."

With this, she walked away, leaving Dunham standing awkwardly to the side. Morrigan saw Dawn light up on his back; and he excused himself to converse with her. Then she and M'akz were alone. Unable to look in his eyes again, she focused on his chest, and she saw it rise and fall erratically; as though he were hyperventilating. He put his hands on either side of her face and stared intently at her; searching her golden irises for answers.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? I can help."

Morrigan shook her head, loosening M'akz's grip on her cheeks.

"I'm okay. I mean, I'm not okay. None of this is okay. But- I'm not... hurt."

M'akzwehl, slowly remembering the rest of the party, got to his feet.

"Anyone else need healing?"

Varying calls of rejection shot through the now empty room, and the bard stood still, unsure what to do, or where to go. Morrigan got to her feet, ignoring the sudden pounding in her head, and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. She watched as Quinn and Gwynt searched the wall where the ghostly girls had disappeared. With some manipulation, it looked as though one or both of them had found some mechanism that revealed a door to a small, natural tunnel. On closer inspection, the party found that the shaft was curiously void of any mist. So, it was without hesitation that they all filed in, Milo dashing to be at the head of the expedition. When he stopped abruptly, the others braced themselves on the narrow walls to avoid running into each other.

Morrigan, placed close to the back of the group, tried peeking around the forms of her friends to see what the hold up was. She jumped a little as she caught sight of one of the small, translucent female forms huddled at the end of the passage. The fighter ducked back behind M'akz as a shuddering voice filled the cramped space as the girl looked up at Milo.

"Are you gonna kill me too?"

The half elf heard Milo start to answer, but his words were drowned out by a terrified scream. When Morrigan found the courage to look back out, she saw the figure had vanished, leaving a flabbergasted halfling in its wake.

"I wasn't going to hurt her."

Milo sounded a little sad, but it was hard to focus on him as Morrigan was shocked to hear the mournful singing start back up behind them in the room they just vacated. Neia, who was bringing up the rear of the line, turned, and the rest of the group followed. They laid eyes on Yazrena, who had apparently never followed the rest of them. She was dancing in front of the other girl, and when she finished, whatever magic she had willed with her performance sent the spirit flying into a far wall. It promptly vanished, and Yazrena slumped to the floor, clearly exhausted. She looked up at the adventurers as they approached.

"I'm not sure if I will be able to do that spell again, but I wanted to give us all a chance to talk, unencumbered. Seeing as we aren't sure where the remains for these children are, there's really only one other way I can think of to rid this place of their souls but it's- unpleasant."

M'akzwehl looked at the drow with disdain.

"Unpleasant how?"

Yazrena sighed, lifting herself from the floor and to her full height. She looked down at M'akz.

"It- Well. We would untether the soul from this plane and beseech Eilistraee to set it free."

M'akz's eyes narrowed.

"Untether? You mean- you'd just be destroying this girl and sending her into the void with no direction? Where is she going to go? You don't know that she was one of Eilistraee's. So if she doesn't take her- who will?"

The drow considered her words before replying, knowing that the bard was on edge.

"It would very much depend on her faith from the life she lived, I believe. I would hope that whoever her god was would accept her and help her find her way."

Scoffing, M'akz squared his shoulders.

"But you don't know. You could be damning this girl to- nothing. An eternity of emptiness."

Gwynt stepped up, inserting himself between the bard and Yazrena.

"They're better off in the ether than stuck here, mate. Don't you think? Here they're doomed to repeat their death over and over again."

Morrigan started to speak up, registering that they actually hadn't seen either of the girls die like the ghosts had in the other ruins they encountered. She was cut off, however, by Milo, who bounded up to Yazrena like a hungry cub sensing its mother approaching.

"Miss Yazrena- couldn't we just search for the bones?"

Smiling sadly at the halfling, Yazrena gave a small shrug.

"Unless any of you-"

Her eyes landed on Gwynt, looking him up and down. The genasi blushed a deep violet under her gaze, and he stood a little straighter as she walked up to him.

"Do you have any control over your heritage, young one?"

Gwynt swallowed nervously.

"Any- what?"

Yazrena laughed softly, gesturing at his subtly shifting hair.

"You're an air genasi, are you not? I was just unsure whether you could control wind like your predecessors in order to clear this mist for a time. There's no way we'll be able to see through it for any sort of remains"

The blue man shook his head and was about to presumably apologize when Neia's voice rang out.

"I might have a spell for that."

Morrigan watched as the two conferred together, and after reaching some sort of agreement, Neia stalked off to one end of the room, lifted her hands, and sent three separate gusts of wind out across the space. The mist danced in its wake, following the trail to the other side of the room. When a cone of the floor was laid bare, half of the party scoured the expanse for anything suspect. Milo ran across a pile of compact bones, he pointed it out to the drow, who wordlessly started up a slow and sad dance. Morrigan saw Milo sidle up to M'akz and nudge him, pointing at the ritual. M'akz had his back facing the drow, arms crossed, and ignored Milo's ribbing. Eventually, the halfling gave up, enjoying the performance. When Yazrena's body stilled, so too did the singing in the room. A peaceful look passed over her face, and she turned back toward the group happily.

"There. She is at rest now."

Quinn tilted her head in confusion.

"But- weren't there two girls?"

Yazrena shrugged, the motion flowing through her limbs like the cascading of a waterfall.

"We can continue looking for more remains, if you'd like."

The group assented, and when the entire ground was combed through, they started taking to the walls, the corners- any space that might accommodate or hide the place where a small girl might have fallen. It was Quinn who saw a piece of a femur snapped in the opening to the tunnel they had found. Looking closer, it looked like there were many bones crushed into the doorway.

"I think- I think the door caught her as she was trying to escape."

Yazrena joined her by the small archway, looking around at the others.

"I know we're all getting quite tired, so I can make this one a little less- elegant than the first, but it will still be just as effective. Be gathering your things and we will move on from this place."

Morrigan did a mental check to be sure she was equipped with all her weapons, then made sure to check on M'akzwehl's whereabouts. It seemed as though he hadn't even moved, except he had faced another part of the wall, leaving his back bared to Yazrena again. Morrigan's eyebrows knit together, wondering about what was happening. She wanted nothing more than to comfort him, but she wasn't sure how to. Caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice Yazrena finishing her spell and snapped out of her reverie just in time to see a line forming to safely trek out of the mist-filled end of the ruins. She found M'akz striding her way, and made a move to take up the back of the line with Morrigan in front. Neia, however, was hanging back, watching the rest of the group shuffle. With a shrug, the bard took Morrigan's hand and pulled her gently around, putting her between himself and Neia.

The half elf glanced at their new companion for only a moment, noticing her putting her hand in her bag and patting something there. Morrigan's focus was quickly redirected as M'akz cleared his throat and squeezed her hand.

"You're sure you're okay?"

Morrigan felt her eyes welling up at his concern. Though whatever magic he had used to age himself earlier had faded, when she looked at him, she still saw the handsome weathered lines in the corners of his eyes where his cheeks had to have spent decades crinkling the skin there when he smiled. Any trace of that grin was gone now, and it made her heart tighten. She weighed her response carefully, not wanting to upset him further.

"I'm okay as I can be."

M'akzwehl frowned a little deeper, knowing there was more to it, but decided not to press her.

"Hey- you remember that time I asked you to trust me?"

Now it was time for Morrigan to scowl. She crossed her arms and gave an exasperated sigh.

"I do. Didn't really turn out that well, did it?"

Amused by the ice in her voice, the side of the bard's mouth ticked up.

"Yeah, you're right love. That wasn't my finest moment, but- I'm gonna need that trust again, okay?"

Morrigan's stomach rolled in fear. She hated when he did this. She trusted him with her life, but it was when he asked for it that it made her the most nervous. Regardless, she nodded.

"Always."

The man she loved mirrored her nod and began to walk, catching up with the group. Morrigan followed close behind, forgetting Neia was still behind her, and not considering a second look for what interested the elf so within her own bag. Without incident, the party made it back to one of the central openings and started to set up camp. M'akz went about casting his Tiny Hut, handing Mela D to Neia, telling the elf that the bat had taken a shine to her. Feeling a little jealous, Morrigan sat on the floor and distracted herself by watching her friends. She felt her eyes grow heavy, and wanted nothing more to just lay down and to wake up with this all having been a dream.

Her attention was almost immediately called to Quinn and Dunham, who stood away from the rest of the party, speaking in hushed tones. After some sort of exchange, Quinn moved towards a door near the side of the room, pulling the paladin inside with her. Morrigan watched as Gwynt and Milo followed after them, putting their ears up to the door to listen in. It wasn't long, however, before the closure was hurriedly swung open, and both of the adventurers fell inside the room. Morrigan chuckled to herself as she saw Quinn rolling her eyes at them while Dunham stepped out, dragging the eavesdroppers with him. Quinn shut the door, spending a long while behind the wall. When she emerged, she locked eyes with Dunham once more.

"Will you- come with me? Back to the shrine room?"

Dunham gave a firm nod of the head, allowing Quinn to lead him out of the safe space. Milo made a move to follow them, and Morrigan noticed the troublemaking grin on his face. She called out to him before he broke into a silent run.

"Milo!"

The halfling turned around, shoulders hunched, expecting her to say something about his obvious advance behind the pair.

"Yeah?"

Morrigan patted the spot beside her on the ground and gestured for him to come closer.

"Will you- would you come read me some facts from your book?"

Milo's eyes lit up then, and he turned around with no hesitation. He scooped up the Underdark factoid novel and planted himself beside the fighter. She propped her elbow on her shin while balancing her head in her palm, ignoring the ache that bloomed under the sharp bone of her arm. She listened to him read page after page, not even noticing M'akzwehl finishing his ritual and Gwynt accompanied by Neia filing into the dome. The scene was a serene one until Yazrena forced herself into the mix, interrupting the rogue's lyrical cadence. With a slow, deliberate look, the drow sent Milo to his feet, scrambling into the hut. Yazrena's expression turned sorrowful, and Morrigan's gut wrenched as she spoke.

"Morrigan. I wanted to express my sincere apologies for-"

Yazrena looked the half elf up and down, eliciting a deep crimson to rise to Morrigan's creased cheeks.

"Well. I apologize for not being able to help you."

The fighter shook her head, incredibly uncomfortable with the drow's attention.

"Yazrena, it- this wasn't your fault."

The drow sat up straighter, forgoing the humble posture she had been attempting.

"But it was. I brought you all here, and I should have been able to protect you, and I'm not even skilled enough to reverse the damage done. There's nothing I can say that's going to fix the wrongs that have occurred, but-"

Yazrena started rummaging around in her bag, chattering away almost maniacally as she did so.

"I know I told the rest of the group that I didn't have any more left, but I really just wanted to keep a sliver for myself, and I'm sure you understand. I do want you to have this, though, as a demonstration of my deepest regret."

Holding out a piece of fully cooked and seasoned Rocktopus meat, Yazrena locked eyes with Morrigan, waiting on her response. The half elf's stomach churned just looking at the food; and she wasn't sure if her body wasn't prepared to ingest something after its ordeal or if she just couldn't bring herself to accept this offering that she didn't feel she deserved. She shook her head, forcing a small smile to deepen the crinkles by her mouth.

"Thank you, Yazrena. I'm not sure I feel up to eating right now, but if you wouldn't mind saving it for me, I'll get it as soon as I do. This means a lot to me."

Yazrena grinned brightly and sniffed, wiping away any wetness that remained unshed from her lower lids.

"Of course! It'll be ready for you whenever you want it. Again, I'm very sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me."

Morrigan nodded, and the movement sent the drow to her feet, placated. By this time, Dunham and Quinn had returned, sending the party into discussion about who would take watch as it was starting to get very late. M'akz laid a soft hand on Morrigan's shoulder, directing her to the back of the dome, as far as he could get her from the rest of the group.

"You need your rest, love. I think Quinn and I will take first watch, but I'll join you as soon as I can."

Feeling extremely useless, Morrigan wanted to argue. However, she wasn't foolhardy enough not to realize that if she attempted to stay on watch with M'akz, the eyelids that she was currently having to snap up would close almost immediately, leaving them- but more importantly, her bard, unprotected. So, she felt her mouth close in a tight line as she stayed silent. M'akzwehl kissed her forehead, turned to rejoin Quinn, and their heads bowed together in discussion was the last thing Morrigan saw before she fell into a deep sleep.

M'akzwehl had clocked every resting form scattered around the hut as he made his way from Morrigan to the front of the dome. Everyone but Neia seemed to be out for the count; even Yazrena was deep in meditation. The bard knew he only had a short window of time where the plan he had been mulling over since Morrigan was hit would go off without a hitch, and the elf was making him nervous. He sat next to Quinn, leaning close to her as he did so.

"I need your help."

With this, Quinn rested stoically as the bard filled her in on his musings, and at the end, her eyes sparked with determination.

"I've been looking for some way to reverse whatever happened too; but let's just say my resources were- hesitant and I don't quite have that kind of power yet. But this… this just might work, M'akzwehl. I'll follow your lead."

A happy thrill shot through M'akz as he felt the bond between them solidify. He knew he had made a good choice in trusting the tiefling, and the fact that she had been doing her own research into helping his love brought an overwhelming urge to give back to her somehow. Right now wasn't the time for that, however. He snuck a glance toward Neia, and the joyful warmth stopped dead and instead encased his heart in ice. The elf had the tongue book out and was writing in it. He was suddenly glad he had had the foresight to plant his bat on her person.

"Stop!"

The bard held out a hand, whispering a few words, and watched Neia go limp. The spell he cast transferred beautifully through Mela D, and he returned the bat to himself. Neia's hands fell away from the book as he did so, and M'akzwehl made his way over to her, calmly and quietly. Her eyes went wildly from side to side as M'akz swiped the book from her lap. He looked down at words just beginning to fade from view.

A god? Well. Some may consider me one.

Engrossed in the text, M'akzwehl didn't notice Quinn moving up beside him. He jumped as she spoke in a high, sweet voice that she had surely never used before. Neia's eyes stopped their frenzied rolling and focused on the tiefling with a relaxed gaze.

"Neia. I'm really sorry that we had to resort to magic and take your book, but- we're really worried about Morrigan. We think the book can help, but it needs to be M'akzwehl that does it. You understand, don't you?"

M'akz furrowed his brow at Quinn's use of the word 'we' until he registered that she had surely charmed the elf. He thought, not for the first time, that he was very lucky to have earned her friendship. He felt his hold on Neia weakening, and he let it drop without a care since Quinn was working on her now. He had more important things to attend to. He grabbed Neia's quill and brought it to the paper, but was stopped by the wizard imploring Quinn both in hushed tones.

"Quinn… There's something going on with this book. I asked if it could help Morrigan, and it asked me what I could offer it in return-"

M'akzwehl breathed a heavy, relieved sigh. It was exactly what he had hoped for.

"Great. I'll do anything."

Before anyone else could object, the bard put pen to paper, but once the ink touched the page, he spotted a dark blot spreading from the place he touched the quill to, and it gently looped into words.

Ah, M'akzwehl Edison. You're new.

Ignoring the text, M'akz scrawled a plea.

Can you help my friend?

With only a moment's hesitation, the same writing that Neia must have seen rose to the surface.

What can you offer me in return?

The bard pondered for a beat, considering the things that he possessed. Knowing that the book wasn't interested in gold, his guitar, or the clothes on his back, he offered the thing he loved most in the world.

Well- I could tell you stories?"

This time, the book took much longer to respond, almost as if it was considering taking tales from M'akzwehl. He chanced a glance over to Morrigan's sleeping form and saw the woman who had taught him about the surface, been his protector, and loved him in a way that no one else had- and by the time the years of stories she wouldn't get to live if this didn't work flashed through his mind, his heart leapt into his throat and he had to look away. As he did, he found a message waiting for him.

How about this? I fix Morrigan Skyshard for you, and you owe me a favor in return.

M'akz wrote one more question.

Just one favor?

An agreement of sorts materialized underneath his hand, outlining the terms of the favor- with a small caveat at the very bottom.

If the requested favor is not performed, death will come for one Morrigan Skyshard.

The book asked for M'akzwehl to sign, which he readily did. Expecting the effects to be instantaneous, he looked back over to Morrigan to find she looked exactly the same. Furious, he turned to face the page once more, seeing one last condition.

Perhaps I wasn't clear. I'll need that signature in blood.

M'akz removed a dagger from his side, slitting the top of his hand. Swallowing a gasp of pain, he reached for the quill and dabbed the tip in the free-flowing liquid. As he signed, a smell of sulphur filled the air. The book sucked his blood down, and although M'akzwehl thought it had gone dormant, it left him with one last line.

It's a shame you don't want more, M'akzwehl Edison. I'll collect my favor in due time.

Snapping the tome shut, M'akzwehl glanced at Quinn, then at Neia, who were both wide-eyed and focused on Morrigan. He steeled himself, took a breath, then faced her too, and his heart snapped. There was his fighter, laying vulnerable in sleep. Her face was creaseless; having returned to its youthful state. He could have cried with happiness, but a weight sat definitively on his shoulders. He ran a nervous hand through his curls, locking eyes with Neia once more. The bard held out the book to her and she took it, eyes narrowed at both he and Quinn. After slinging it solidly into her bag, the elf left the hut. M'akz knew if he tried to follow her, the hut would dissipate, waking all of his friends. He started to ask Quinn to talk to her, but noticed the tiefling had already left. Feeling frustrated still, he summoned Mela D and sent her outside to listen. The bat caught wind of their conversation quickly.

"—and I know he's listening, so I'll tell you both. I don't appreciate having magic used against me."

M'akzwehl ducked his head in shame, starting a little that his spy had not been better hidden. Quinn attempted to reason with the elf.

"I know, and you can't imagine how bad we feel about that, but—"

A scoff rang out into the air.

"I was trying to help her too, you know. I don't feel like I'm part of your group just yet, but I can see how important she is to you all. I was in the middle of finding out what exactly it wanted, and I'm afraid M'akz has tied himself to something he doesn't understand."

The bard heard Quinn sigh.

"I think he would have done far worse for her."

At that, M'akzwehl sent a message to the women, imploring them to come inside so that he could talk to them as well. He needed to tell them just how much worse it could have been. They relented, stepping back inside and eyeing him curiously. The bard braved himself, for it was this plan that he was almost certain would turn the party against him. He wasn't sure how the two would react, but he felt it was imperative that they understand.

"Dunham said we needed a cleric. I'm not sure if you both are aware— but we have a very powerful one following us. We have for a long time now."

He waited for recognition. Quinn's eyes suddenly sparked, and she let out a breathy whisper.

"Ilvara."

M'akz nodded.

"Yes. I was going to summon her with the stone of sending you still have, Quinn. I'm not sure what would have happened afterwards. I don't know how we would have gotten her to fix Morrigan, but— I had hoped you all would be willing to fight her with me. I'm glad it didn't come to that. This was the best plan I had, Neia, and I'm very sorry that you had to be dragged into it. I know we're not friends, but I would like to be someday. I hope— I hope I can earn that."

Neia was quiet for a long moment. Her face softened a bit, and she stared at the bard, unblinking.

"Someday, I hope to have someone who cares about me the way you do Morrigan."

The tension faded away between the two of them, and Neia excused herself to meditate. M'akz turned to Quinn then and used his last bit of energy to get one more thought off of his mind.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me and Mor tonight. You— I've never had friends before. But I need you to know… you're the best one I've ever had."

Quinn's mouth opened and closed, words faltering. M'akzwehl watched as her eyes glazed over, but tears did not spill. Her rosy complexion deepened to a crimson, and she sniffed once, looking to the sky.

"I— yeah. Me too, M'akz. Me too."

A silence passed between the two, and it expanded through the rest of their watch. They woke Gwynt and Milo to take over when the four hours had passed, and M'akzwehl took his spot next to Morrigan. Sensing his weight, she burrowed into his chest, sighing a little in relief. He slung an arm around her, caressing her back with one hand and threading his fingers through her thick, tangled locks with the other. He whispered to her as he began to fall asleep, relishing the shudder of her body against his as his breath tickled her ear.

"I love you."

The next morning, Morrigan felt a light touch on her shoulder and started to rouse. M'akzwehl's arm was heavy on her back, so she looked around for the source of the contact. She ended up face to face with Yazrena, whose pleasant grin turned into a dark grimace. A gasp followed, and to Morrigan's horror, the rest of the risen party turned to her, some gasping, others staring in disbelief. Anger started to boil under her skin.

"Look, I know it's going to take some getting used to, but—"

Yazrena grabbed the half-elf and pulled, hard. Morrigan found herself being yanked out from under the bard, who awoke with a start. He was on his feet in an instant, eyes burning with hate. Morrigan felt her own gaze swimming in and out of white, and she tried to hold back the rage that was begging to surface. She noticed, however, as Yazrena dragged her to her feet, her body felt much lighter than it had last night. Maybe, she thought, it would be okay to live like this. As long as she still felt able to fight and protect the ones she loved— maybe she could be okay. This acceptance was short-lived as Yazrena began to mumble things at her, and it didn't take the fighter long to realize she was being magicked without her consent. She threw a worried glance to M'akz, who stepped toward the pair with intent.

"Let go of her."

The Drow narrowed her eyes at him, spitting venom his way.

"What did you do?!"

The bard was silent, and Morrigan saw his hand reach for his shortsword. Gwynt stepped in, taking a closer look at the half-elf. He too was brandishing his weapon.

"Morrigan, you're fixed."

The words made no sense. Fixed how, she wondered. M'akzwehl's hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, eyeing Yazrena with disdain. Morrigan's brow furrowed.

"I don't—"

Her blue companion showed the half-elf her reflection in the shining metal of his blade, and she let out a choked gasp. She no longer saw the weathered face of her mother staring back at her. It was the youthful visage of herself; and when she brought her gaze up to Yazrena's again, the Drow was scanning the room for answers.

"Which one of you did this? I know you don't have the power to fix it yourselves. Tell me what you've done. Now."

Dunham was standing too now, and as Yazrena's scrutinizing glare landed his way, he smiled.

"I prayed to Bahamut for her. Maybe he intervened?"

Yazrena paid this confession no mind as she passed over him to look at M'akzwehl.

"It was you. I know it was. I don't know how, but I can smell the magic and deceit on you. Come clean. I need to know if what you did is going to endanger us all."

Morrigan looked at her lover, who was unflinchingly staring at the Drow woman in front of him. He cut his eyes to her apologetically before he spoke, focusing his words to her instead of Yazrena.

"I— you're right. I think everyone here knows the lengths I would go through for this woman, so yes, I did something to get her those years back. I don't— I'm not completely sure what it means yet, but it's for me to bear."

Morrigan's heart dropped. She was barely aware of Yazrena loosening her grip on her arm, or of everyone dispersing to gather their belongings, leaving M'akzwehl alone with her. He grabbed her hands, kissing her knuckles and searching her eyes for her response. The fighter was wracked with guilt, fear, and love. She couldn't believe that this man had saved her life so many times now. She wanted to always be the strong one for him, but it seemed to continuously be him stitching her back together. She thought, not for the first time since she had known him, that she did not deserve this angel from the gods. At the same time, the dread rendered her mute. M'akz, growing ever worried with her prolonged silence, took the lead.

"Morrigan. You're used to people talking around you like you're not even there, and making decisions that very much concern you without checking with you first, and I am so sorry to have been an active part of that. I need you to know- your voice is very important to me. Your strength is unbelievable, but the brawn is not the best thing about you. It's your mind, and you are doing everyone a disservice by not using it. So just- please speak up more. In return, I will do my best to explain to you what has happened when I figure it out myself. I just need you to be honest with me. Are you okay?"

The fighter took all of his words in, crumbling underneath the weight of them. She had never considered, not really, that someone would want to hear her. She spent most of her young life enduring teases and taunts, and stuck closer to the escape of the deep forest or a blade, only truly speaking up when her dad was taken from her. It was then too, that it felt like her impulses had led her and the rest of the village astray. So, when it came to the party, she let herself be led around by the more level headed of their number until they were in battle, where she felt like she truly shined. Alone with M'akzwehl, however, she flourished. She talked about her life, her dreams, everything. He knew her better than maybe her own parents had, and if he put so much stock in her voice, then she knew she owed it to him to participate more. She cleared her throat.

"I just- I don't know what happened, and that… I'm scared, M'akz. And I don't like being scared."

His eyes softened at that, and he held her close.

"I know, love. I am too. And I can't apologize enough for making a rash decision and leaving you feeling like this, but- I did what I had to. For you. For the stories you have left to tell. I don't know the specifics of it all yet, but in my heart I believe it'll be okay, in the end."

Morrigan buried her face in his neck, and the bard felt the rumble of her voice in his throat as she spoke again.

"I believe you. If I had faith in anything, it would be you."

M'akzwehl squeezed her at this, then pulled away and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Okay then. Let's get out of here."

The group travelled on from the ruined city, making it to a cavern with glowing crystals. Quinn reminded them all, as she grabbed some shards from the ground, not to touch them. The resulting light could blind them all. As they started setting up camp very carefully, Yazrena started to explain the finer details of their descent into Menzoberranzan. She noted that they would have to go in stripped of everything except nondescript clothing. Morrigan had sudden flashbacks of her time in Velkenvelve and the weeks shortly after where she was unarmored and mostly weaponless, until M'akzwehl had given her his hand crossbow. At the thought of her weapons, her mind drifted to her maul and the longbow M'akz had also gifted her, and her heart gave a lurch.

"So, what are we supposed to do with our stuff?"

Yazrena shot her an exasperated smile.

"Well, if it's small enough, we can store it all in my bag of holding."

Morrigan's eyes went to the hammer at her side.

"And if it's not?"

The drow followed her gaze, mulling over their options.

"Hm. I believe that my chest could fit the dragon as well as some of our bigger items, but-"

Yazrena paused for a moment before turning to M'akz.

"I'll need someone to carry it. Young M'akzwehl, would you feel comfortable posing as a- servant of sorts?"

Morrigan opened her mouth to object, but the bard beat her to it.

"Won't- am I going to stand out?"

Yazrena looked him up and down, scrutinizing the more human parts of him. She sighed.

"Why do you have to have curls? I suppose if we could find a way to straighten your hair and perhaps make your ears a bit longer- you should pass easily enough not to draw attention. But you will have to be at the front with me."

Milo, having been testing out places to hide several daggers on his person under his ragged prison clothing, pulled on M'akz's hand.

"You can heat metal, right? I think I could work out the hair-"

The halfling stood on his tip-toes, attempting to get a better look at the short curvature of the bard's ears.

"...and maybe those too, if I've got enough clay."

M'akz ran a hand over his chin, feeling the beginnings of a beard that had been thriving there since they had been travelling.

"Think you could smooth this out as well?"

Nodding with vigor, Milo ran off to grab his supplies while Morrigan stared at the two in abject discomfort. The thought of him being one of the front line made her sick to her stomach, and she wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of him serving Yazrena. He was much too good to be treated like she knew drow males were. She appeased herself with the fact that she could be right behind him and could strike should anyone advance on him. She took a seat, and watched her love transform in front of her. Milo's quick, deft hands turned M'akzwehl's soft ringlets into cascading locks, and after a bit of measuring, fit elongated prosthetics to the ends of his ears. With a quick swipe of a dagger, his cheeks were polished and clean, and there stood a man she barely recognized. Morrigan saw him look at a distorted image of himself in his shortsword, and he looked both impressed and almost disgusted. An idea of how to distract him occurred to her, so she hopped up, kissing him lightly.

"Would you do me a favor?"

The left side of his mouth quirked up in a crooked smile.

"Anything, love."

The half-elf drew her own dagger and held it out to him.

"Give me a haircut."

Eyebrows raised, M'akzwehl took the weapon and looked down at her braid falling over her chest.

"You sure?"

Morrigan shrugged, looking to Yazrena as she spoke.

"Well, I'm going to need to look less recognizable, right?"

The drow hesitated for a moment but nodded, staring at the fighter's features.

"Short might be best. If we can enhance your more masculine features, I think you'll be even less likely to draw attention. I also believe your halfling friend has been working on pinky replacements for all of you who- had them liberated."

Morrigan snuck a glance toward Milo, who scooped up a pile of clay fingers and held them up triumphantly. He took that as his cue to hand them out to the group, and he fiddled around with fitting hers as M'akz took the first swipe at her plait. She felt the lightness instantly, and out of the corner of her eye noticed the still-braided piece trickle down from her armor to the ground. A few more agile cuts were made, and then the bard moved around to look at his handiwork. His face twisted into something she didn't understand- like a mix of pain and recognition, and it made her uneasy.

"Is it bad? Do I look-"

M'akzwehl hushed her.

"You're perfect. I just- I think it needs to be a tad shorter, if that's okay."

Breathing a sigh of relief, she relented, and minutes later she was standing in a pile of copper. She shook her head like a wet dog, sending bits of hair flying through the air like a fine red shower. M'akz dusted off her shoulders, then came in front of her, tracing his hand across her face with care. He smiled and held up his shortsword. When Morrigan looked into it, she saw a style closely cropped at the sides but formed into a crest on top. Without the hair framing her cheeks and hiding her ears, she looked more like an elf than she ever had, and a pang of missing her father hit her. She found herself grinning through it, and she hugged the bard, hard.

"I think you're better with that dagger than I am."

He laughed, squeezing her back.

"I won't tell the others. I'd hate to ruin your reputation."

She jabbed him in the ribs for that, causing him to arch back in surprise.

"Watch it, Edison."

The half-elf started to walk towards Quinn, and M'akzwehl called after her.

"Oh, I'm watching all right."

Morrigan turned around, and saw M'akz had his gaze trained firmly on her backside. She cleared her throat, eliciting a wink from the bard. Rolling her eyes, she continued, reaching the tiefling, who was mid-conversation with Venn. The dragon sat, looking up at Quinn with round, alert eyes.

"It's gonna be okay, buddy. All you have to do is just wait in the chest, okay? Lay down and stay there, no matter what you hear. If you come out, someone might hurt you, and that's the last thing I want. We're gonna go through this city, and then when we reach the portal, someone will activate it, and once we're on the surface, I'll release you. It may be a couple of hours, but you don't have to be scared. I won't let anything happen to you."

The dragon made a sad chirping noise, snuggling closer to Quinn. Morrigan cleared her throat and her companion looked up, absentmindedly stroking the leathery skin between Venn's eyes.

"Need something?"

Morrigan nodded, sinking to her knees. The dragon chuffed as Quinn stopped petting him, and shot a look at the fighter. The creature still made her incredibly uneasy, so she kept her distance.

"I'll make this quick. I just- I don't really trust Yazrena with my things. Especially not my weapons. So I was hoping you might be okay with me putting them into your bag of holding? I'd- I mean, I believe that if they're with you, I might still have them on the other side of this. I know it sounds stupid, but some of these are incredibly important to me, and the first time I was captured I lost pieces of my past that I will never get back. I don't want that to happen again."

Without hesitation, the tiefling held out the bag.

"Just bring it back when you're finished."

After dropping all of her weapons and armor into the bag, Morrigan then gently sat her maul in Yazrena's chest. She surveyed the others in various stages of preparation, but the one that interested her most was the drow herself, who was smoothing out a very old and tattered looking spider silk dress. It reminded her of an older version of the ones they had found in the cavern with the stone soldiers, and she reached a pale hand into the bag still in her grasp, thinking of the gown. One came out, still in its pristine and vaguely magical condition. She approached Yazrena and held it out to her.

"We found this- months ago. Maybe it would suit better than this one?"

Yazrena looked it over, blushing a bit.

"It's a tad revealing, isn't it? I will admit my style is- probably centuries behind and this does look more modern. Thank you."

Without responding, Morrigan returned the bag to Quinn, deciding to sit next to her to observe M'akzwehl putting up the hut for the night. Once the group settled inside, Yazrena addressed them all with authority.

"We're about half a day's journey away from Menzoberranzan. Make sure to get rest tonight, as we will be on our way without stopping again soon. We will go over plans again, briefly, but soon we will have you on the surface."

With that, Morrigan found herself fitfully sleeping as she worried about the day ahead. M'akz was draped over her side, and she took precious solace in his breath tickling her ear. Just as she had found a soothing rhythm in the rise and fall of his chest against her back, she felt hands gently shaking both of them awake. She opened her eyes to see Quinn staring back at her, one red finger pressed to her lips. She and M'akzwehl both sat up, alert, and heard soft murmurs from outside. The half elf heard a small chitter from beside her, and turned, noticing that M'akz had summoned Mela D and was whispering orders to her. She flew up and out of the hut, and no sooner had she vanished from sight than did the voices get louder and closer.

"Ah, well that makes it easier, doesn't it? Come out, slaves. I don't have all day."

The party held fast as Quinn peered through the side of the hut.

"That... looks like Asha. She helped us get out of Velkenvelve."

The now obviously drow woman came to a halt right in front of the dome and huffed.

"So- do you still have the elf with you?"

The group shot a look at Neia, whose eyes narrowed in response. They heard Yazrena still attempting to hold their charade together.

"Which elf?"

Asha laughed; bitterness seeping through the sound.

"The red-headed one, or have you added another to your number? I wonder if you've told her that the drow in Menzoberranzan will kill her on sight?"

Morrigan's breath caught in her throat. She felt M'akz stiffen beside her, and she wanted to reach out for him but she was frozen in place. Yazrena faltered for a moment.

"I- that was a concern, yes, but-"

Asha's voice grew louder as she addressed them again.

"Did you know, slaves, that the surface elves are the most hated among the drow? They have everything we do not, and are the reason we were banished to this place. It's laughable to think your guide here would be able to get all of you through Menzoberranzan unscathed. I have a proposition for an alternative."

Without another word, Dunham exited the tent. In his wake, half of the rest of the party followed, and Morrigan listened from the safety of the dome as Asha made an offer to take them all through Mantol Derreth instead. The immediate reaction was incredulous, as Milo had brought up the same route and was told time and time again how dangerous the trek would be. However, as the group reconvened in the hut, it seemed as though their numbers were split. Besides the obvious threat of two of their companions losing their lives without question, there was also the draw of being able to keep their weapons and armor in Mantol Derreth. Others questioned Asha's motives, and wondered if the enemies they were sure of were less frightening than the untold horrors they might face circumventing Menzoberranzan. Yazrena made an attempt to chime in, and with a fury Morrigan had never seen before, M'akzwehl was at her throat in seconds with a dagger drawn from his side.

"That's enough out of you, drow."

Gwynt hurriedly stepped between the two, and M'akzwehl thrashed against him. Yazrena took the opportunity to back up, defending herself as she did so.

"We're going through the farmland. There is no reason for a high priestess to be there, so I didn't think the elves would be an issue. I assure you that my plan is still the safest, but if you decide to go through Mantol Derreth, I do understand, and I will go with you."

M'akzwehl, fuming, let loose a dry laugh. Before he could speak, however, Dunham stepped up.

"So, let's put it to a vote. I know I would feel a lot better in my armor and without the sure death of two of our number. M'akzwehl?"

As such did the question run down the line. M'akzwehl chose Mantol Derreth, and Morrigan echoed him, sending a hurt glance towards Yazrena as she did so. Neia, against all odds, cast a vote for Menzoberranzan still, along with Milo. When Dunham's gaze met Quinn's, she bristled. Not knowing what dangers might lurk in Mantol Derreth for Venn, she too wanted to go with the plan she had already discussed with the dragon, hoping he understood. At a standstill, the discussion was thrown to Gwynt, then Yazrena, who balked at the idea of inserting herself. Dunham shrugged at her unease.

"If you can die, you get a vote."

Having been left at a tie, the group stared at each other in frustration as Asha's companion called from beyond the hut.

"Lady Asha does not have time to wait on you, slaves. We will take our answer now or we will go."

Quinn looked towards M'akzwehl.

"I have an idea."

The bard sighed, forcing a small smile to his lips.

"I trust you, Quinn. What I did for Morrigan- I would do for any of you. I hope you know that. So, whatever way this goes… I'm behind you."

With renewed resolve, the tiefling left the tent, and the others followed. Morrigan wondered what they must look like to the pair. Right now, she felt invincible, with her party standing tall next to her. She felt power in Quinn's voice as she spoke up.

"We've made our decision. We're not going with you."

The group stilled. Morrigan heard the beating of her heart in her ears as silence dragged for a moment between Quinn and Asha. The drow smiled cruelly, her shoulders lifting in dismissal.

"We will make our leave, then. Ilvara is not far behind us, you see, and I'd like to avoid contact if possible. The farmland is not the foolhardy plan I was expecting, but she knows where you're going. I hope you know what you're doing."

The two turned quickly, and Quinn called after them.

"I'm not finished."

Asha turned with a sparkle of mirth in her eye.

"Oh?"

The tiefling squared her shoulders.

"You're coming with us."

Laughing now, the drow stood her ground.

"And why would I do that?"

Quinn made a strong case, going on for what seemed like ages outlining all the reasons that this could foil Ilvara much quicker and easier than detouring through Mantol Derreth, and reminding Asha of her vendetta to replace the priestess in her current position, and even going so far as to mention that if they were caught, Asha would be able to act as though she had brought them to justice instead of the lazy drow that lost them in the first place. Asha stood, listening to every word. Morrigan had hoped that her silence was a good omen, but once Quinn had finished, she spun on her heel, sending a sharp blow to her companion when he didn't follow suit quick enough.

"Very compelling, but I must decline. Good luck, slaves. You'll need it."

The two disappeared slowly into the distance, and when they were completely out of sight, Morrigan felt a bit deflated. The rest of the party, however, went into overdrive. The unexpected company had renewed their resolve, and Morrigan stood by as Neia proposed an idea to Yazrena.

"Would I be able to disguise myself as a drow?"

Yazrena took in the elf's blue skin and fair locks.

"I believe- if we put a bit of ash in the hair… you might pass close enough to be a junior priestess. You would need to be at the front with M'akzwehl and myself, though… I think we need new names for you both. 'Neia' isn't- well, dear, it's quite elven. I once knew an Ilmren in my younger days. Would that suit?"

Neia agreed to the name, and was no sooner settled in her plan than being dragged away by Milo, who roped Dunham into holding him on his shoulders as he sprinkled the remnants of the fire from earlier in the night on the top of the elf's head. Yazrena then glanced over at M'akzwehl, but as she began to speak, he cut her off.

"You can call me Dhozsordn."

Morrigan jumped a little, hearing the name of M'akz's father roll off of his tongue with relative ease. She leaned in a little closer to him, just enough to where their shoulders were touching, giving him a silent reminder of her support. He stood strong, however; not reacting as Yazrena smiled in approval.

"That's perfect. Dhozsordn it is, then."

Her focus returned to the rest of the group.

"It's imperative that we leave immediately. I can't be sure how close Ilvara is behind us, and obviously she has something of yours to track you- so prepare. As soon as we're all packed up, we're going to set off, and there will be no time for stopping, talking, or any more planning. This is it, my friends. I hope you're ready."

M'akzwehl turned to Morrigan then, cupping her face in his hands. She melted into his grip as he pulled her lips to his, and he kissed her like it might be the last time he ever did so. It left her breathless and dazed, and after he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to hers.

"I love you."

Morrigan tugged his hands away from her cheeks, holding them in her own palms as she clutched both pairs to her chest. Her golden eyes locked onto his soft greys.

"I love you too, M'akzwehl. But I- Look. If they capture me… or- gods... M'akz, I just need you to go, okay? No matter what happens."

The bard flinched ever so slightly, but his eyes never left her face as he replied.

"Okay, love."

Morrigan didn't believe him; not for a second. Somehow, though, hearing it made her feel a bit better about possibly putting them all in danger. That feeling of relief would be short-lived, however. The party set out, and in no time found themselves facing the gate of Menzoberranzan. Morrigan hid as best as she could in the middle of the group, trying not to draw attention to herself. She kept her eyes lowered, only ever sneaking a glance up to check on M'akzwehl, who was walking at the front between Yazrena and a giant spider that Dunham had summoned to carry their belongings. When they were let into the city, she allowed herself a small swipe of her across her surroundings, and was taken aback to see the most beautiful place she had been in since the Neverlight Grove. Everyone must have been a bit distracted, as the line faltered for a moment, slamming to a halt as Yazrena tripped and almost fell. Neia grabbed her arm with grace, sliding her back to her full height gently and fussing over her dress and hair. Yazrena preened, then reached out and struck M'akzwehl in the back of the head.

Morrigan heard the impact more than she saw it, and the accompanying whimper from her lover sent her skin rippling with anger. She made an effort to swallow the growl bubbling up from her gut, knowing that if she lost it now, they would surely lose all element of surprise. M'akzwehl's shaking form in front of her was hard to ignore, so she closed her eyes, placing her grip on Dunham so she could be led in the right direction. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until a bell tolled through the city, causing the line to slam to a halt. Morrigan opened her eyes then, rage having abated, and saw Yazrena walking away from them to a small group of drow women, who were beckoning her closer. Yazrena's voice lifted above the din, directed towards Neia.

"Take the slaves on, Ilmren. I have been summoned."

Morrigan couldn't bring her face to Yazrena's for fear of meeting the eyes of the other women, but her voice alone sent shivers down the fighter's spine. It was strong, but marred by an undercurrent of fear. Neia kept up the dwindling charade.

"You heard the mistress! Keep walking!"

Morrigan heard the unmistakable sound of a blade on flesh and a heavy smack as something fell to the ground. She knew without looking up that they were now on their own. A static charge of both sadness and haste threaded through the party, and it wasn't long before they reached the stretch of the city where they had been told the sewer grate would be. As Neia searched for the correct one, a voice rang out in front of them. Morrigan held her breath as she listened to Neia attempt to reason with a child who was threatening to send forces their way. As she did so, distant sounds of scuffling arose from farther behind.

"I wonder if it's the slaves she was hiding from us!"

Hearing this, Neia produced an amethyst from the chest perched haphazardly on the spider's back, and made the girl promise to keep quiet. She agreed, but not long after she had left their sight they heard the same small lilt rise above their own footfalls.

"They're right over there! It's the ones you're looking for!"

With that one exclamation, all acting and decorum were tossed out of the window. The adventurers broke out into a run, and they were set upon by a group of drow. It was mostly women, though as they sent a call out to the various inhabitants of the city, they were joined by a handful of men. Everything began to fall apart yet come together at once. Spells were cast from both sides, sending their belongings flying. This and barrels shoved out into their way made running difficult, and Morrigan herself tripped and fell as she looked for a way to grab her maul from the pile. She thought better of the action and kept going, but noticed Mela D flying away from M'akz and into the face of one of the Drow women. The fluttering of wings filled her ears as a swarm of locusts attacked their foes, and with no other baggage to carry, the spider left its post by Neia's side and joined the fray as well.

The fighter heard Gwynt's voice through the din, and as she sprinted ahead, she saw him waving to them all from the very grate they had set out to find. She brought herself to near exhaustion to make it all the way there, but once she had jumped in, she stopped only to wait for M'akz to join her. Chest tight, she strained to hear if he had made it, and was rewarded with a sharp command.

"Run, you idiots!"

It was her bard. He was so close, and he was also out of his mind if he thought she was going to leave him. A shadow darkened the grate, and for a moment she thought that he was finally coming down. It wasn't until Venn's scaly form landed on her shoulders that she realized how wrong she was; but M'akzwehl wasn't far behind. He dropped down, grabbed her hand, and without a word started to sprint down the sewer. Morrigan heard the voices of her companions not far behind; and Neia was yelling an incantation. A solid click echoed through the tunnels, and something about the sound made Morrigan feel much safer. As her mind was struggling to catch up with her legs, M'akz stopped. There was an ornate symbol in front of them. He let go of her hand to pull a rapier from his side. As he pressed it into the stone, Morrigan found the faces of her party around her. They all looked tired, frightened.

Suddenly, her vision went completely black. She felt as though she was falling, and she wanted to reach out to M'akzwehl, but she couldn't move. Before panic had time to set in, an unseen pressure pushed her down, and she was submerged in water. Morrigan stood up, finding her lover by her side and Venn still hanging from her neck. Disappointment seeped through her as she looked around at the cave they landed in- until her eyes fell on something miraculous. Muted midday rays of sun shone from the opening of the cavern. Her hand found M'akz's and squeezed, breathlessly. They had made it to the surface.