Into the City of the Dead...

"Next thing we remodel are these stairs," Jhelnae said. "We'll put in a nice gently sloping ramp. And I mean very gently sloping."

"It's just six steps," Aleina, walking beside her, said. "We got this."

"Six steps at the end of a very long day," the half-drow said.

"It's almost over," Aleina said. "Up these steps, through the door, and we're home."

Despite her positive words, Jhelnae noticed how her friend slowed her pace to both put off and gather strength for the final push. That, and her compromised gait, told the half-drow the aasimar's legs were just as sore as her own.

"Let's do it," Jhelnae said, as much to herself as to Aleina.

They mounted the stairs, for her own part the half-drow winced and counted in her head at each step.

One, two, three, four, five, six - then she pushed open the door and the familiar smells, sounds, and sights of the Trollskull tap room flooded her senses.

It was early evening, well into the supper hours, but not yet sunset. The taproom was relatively crowded with a mix of regulars and people Jhelnae had never seen before. She traded a nod with the genasi smiths Embric and Avi who sat at one of the tables. Her eyes drifted to the stairs in the corner. It was a lot more than six steps and she inwardly groaned at the thought of carrying food and drink up to their own dining area.

"Let's just eat in here," Aleina said, obviously having a similar thought. "Have Fargas feed us and numb us up with a bit of ale."

"Sounds good," the half-drow said."There are some empty stools at the bar."

"Where have you two been all day?" Fargas asked, glancing their way as they approached. "Get rolled by some ruffians?"

"To the Nine Hells and back," Jhelnae said as they took their seats. "And I mean each and every layer. Then, because we hadn't enough of being tortured, we went to each layer of the Abyss."

"What?" the halfling asked, eyes widening.

"Oh, she is exaggerating," Aleina said, with a dismissive wave. "We did a little hike for the Blackstaff to get some information from a monk on Mount Waterdeep and joined him for a workout."

"You describe it your way," Jhelnae said. "I'll describe it my way. Now can we get some stew and ale? Because I'm starving."

Surprisingly, instead of quipping at or teasing them, the halfling did as requested. He even dropped off the raised platform he used behind the bar and scurried back to the kitchen himself instead of waiting until he could catch the attention of one of the servers. He brought back two bowls of chowder rather than stew, which suited the half-drow just fine.

"Thank you, Fargas," Jhelnae sighed through a warm spoonful of beef, barley, and onion. "You're my best friend right now."

"Mine too," Aleina agreed through her own mouthful. "And Lif is our best ghost friend."

The last part was in response to a pair of tankards floating over and landing on the bar top next to their bowls.

"You both look like you needed it," the halfling asked. "Your top is ripped, Jhelnae. The monk do that?"

"Nope," the half-drow said, still eating. "Someone else. That same someone scratched me too."

"You know what," the aasimar said. "I healed that scratch. Also have apologized. Multiple times. But fine, I am sorry again for ripping your top and scratching you. Satisfied?"

Her apology sounded more exasperated than contrite. Which, in Aleina's case, Jhelnae knew, meant she actually did feel guilty. The half-drow decided to let that gnaw at her friend a little bit longer before she fully let her off the hook.

"Wait," Fargas said. "Aleina ripped it? How did that happen?"

A patron from down the bar raised his tankard to catch his attention and he waved them off.

"Be with you in a moment, Wyll," he said, then under his breath, "Can you take care of that one Lif?"

"We had finished his workout," the aasimar said. "Poses, press ups, squats, lunges, you name it, we did it."

"Don't forget the boulders he made us hold while doing it," the half-drow said.

"I wouldn't call them boulders," Aleina said. "More like big rocks."

"Big rocks," Jhenae said, contemplatively, tapping her chin. "What is another word for a big rock, I wonder?"

"Yeah, yeah, the workout was hard," the halfling said, waving his hand dismissively. "Your best friend has customers waiting. Get to the clothes ripping and scratching part."

"It isn't all that interesting," the aasimar said. "After all the work out stuff he had us do a drill that was 'easy' and 'fun'. His words. But I'd use the words 'aggravating' and 'humiliating'."

"Actually," the half-drow said with a smirk. "I thought it was both 'easy' and 'fun'."

She moved from the chowder to the ale, but it was actually mead. It tasted sweet and felt so cool and delicious going down her throat. Between a mountain spring near the monk's cave and public fountains on the way back she'd had plenty of water, but only water. It was nice to drink something else.

"I take back my apology," Aleina said. "He called it 'sticky hands'. Which is kind of a dumb name since it is the wrists not the hands you hold together and move them in circular motions as you try to lead your partner into trips. Someone, who is the daughter of two paladins, had done it before. Apparently many times."

"It's a basic drill that teaches you to sense shifts in body weight and movement," Jhelnae said. "My parents and I did the same drill."

"So you'd think she'd take it easy on her friend who was a complete beginner," the aasimar said. "Well, you'd be mistaken. She kept tripping me. Again and again."

"Oh, by all that dances," Jhelnae sighed, rolling her eyes. "How many times do I have to say I was taking it easy?"

"Yeah right," the aasimar said. "You didn't even give me advice. Just kept laughing as you tripped me."

"Tried to give you advice," the half-drow said. "You didn't want to hear it. And those fierce and determined looks you gave me were so cute. I couldn't not laugh."

"I can see where this is headed," Fargas said, chuckling. "She lost her temper."

"I did not lose my temper," Aleina said. "I just got a little bit frustrated."

"Little bit?" Jhelnae asked, pointing at the tear in her top.

"Fine," the aasimar said. "A lot of frustration. My hand sort of came in contact with fabric and I sort of grabbed a fistful and I sort of yanked as hard as I could."

"And I sort of fell face first towards the ground," the half-drow said laughing. "And sort of had scratches on my collarbone from her nails."

"Sorry," Aleina said, this time really sounding contrite.

"I would have loved to have seen that," the halfling said.

He laughed and shook his head as he moved away to serve waiting patrons.

"Can I confess something," Jhelnae asked.

It was time to let her friend fully off the hook.

"What?" Aleina asked, curiosity in her voice.

"My parents are both better at that drill than I am," the half-drow said. "So, I know how you felt. That is why I completely understood what you did and even admired you for it."

She gave her friend a wink and a smirk and lifted her tankard. The aasimar smiled and toasted back with her own mead and they drank.

"You also really were getting better," Jhelnae said, "You almost did have me a few times."

"Whatever," Aleina said, shaking her head and huffing out a breath.

The aasimar clearly thought her friend was just trying to assuage her ego, but Jhelnae told the truth. For someone with no training, Aleina had picked up on the drill pretty well. She had good instincts.

"As a way to make amends," the aasimar said. "I'll let you use the bathtub first. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like a good start," Jhelnae said.

Aleina's eyes narrowed.

"Joking," the half-drow said. "Just joking. Thank you and I'll try not to soak for too long. But it's going to feel so good."

"So good," the aasimar agreed. "Selune's Tears, I can't wait."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Fargas said, making his rounds. "Mellanor came by earlier today and dropped this off for you."

He tossed a rolled scroll down on the polished bar top.

"For me?" Aleina asked, brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Well he actually said for Kuhl, Aleina, or Jhelnae," the halfling said. "Then he hesitated before adding Red Sky in the Morning and finally said Surash and I could also participate if we wanted to."

"And?" Jhelnae asked. "Don't keep us in suspense. What does it say?"

"Surash and I decided we didn't want to," Fargas said. "We're very busy running the Trollskull and all. Speaking of which, I should see if he needs my help. Never leave an alchemist to his own devices in a kitchen you know. Kuhl and Sky have been off to who knows where all day, so that leaves you two."

He wandered back to the kitchen leaving his friends to stare at the rolled up scroll.

"It has to be from Lady Jeryth," the aasimar observed.

"Of course it is from Lady Jeryth," the half-drow agreed.

"She probably wants a favor," Aleina said.

"A goddess grants you one little unicorn ride in the High Forest," Jhelnae said. "And suddenly she and her Chosen own you for life."

"Actually," the aasimar said. "She has sort of become our friend. We did go out dancing the other night. She is a lot of fun."

"She is," the half-drow sighed.

Jhelnae could feel the anticipated warm waters of the bath slipping away as she motioned for Aleina to pick up the scroll. Her friend untied it and unrolled it. It was a posting, like many of those put up on boards in taverns. This one had a jagged tear at the top to show it had been ripped down.

"Brave heroes wanted," the aasimar read aloud. "For a possible rescue mission in the City of the Dead. Meet at the South Gate at sundown tonight if you can muster the mettle. Custom tailored outfit by Sophraea Carver-Bone as a reward. Signed - Sir Ambrose Everdawn, Knight of Kelemvor."

Aleina looked up from the posting.

"Well, that is kind of a different reward," she said. "A custom tailored outfit? There is more writing by a different hand, probably Mellanor's for Lady Jeryth. It says 'Please assist if you can. Ambrose Everdawn is a dear old soul and Sophraea Carver-Bone can always be trusted to know when something is amiss in the City of the Dead. Also, she is a very good seamstress. I'd want her to make me an outfit if I still had a body.'"

"By all that dances!" the half-drow said, throwing up her hands. "Why tonight? Why? Do you know how sore my butt is from hiking up and down that mountain and everything else?"

"Since I also did all of that," the aasimar said. "I have a pretty good idea. How long until sunset?"

"Probably around a bell," Jhelnae said.

"South gate," Aleina said thoughtfully. "It's not too far. We have just enough time to go upstairs, get some things, and head out."

"Fine," the half-drow said, well aware that her tone said it was anything but fine.

Groaning, they climbed off their stools and hobbled upstairs. After attiring themselves in warmer clothes for the evening, and one without a rip at the neckline in Jhelnae's case, banging on Sky's door, then climbing all the way to the top floor and banging on Kuhl's, they clambored back downstairs.

"You'd think going down stairs would at least be easier than going up," Jhelnae complained as they came back down into the tap room. "But it isn't."

"Where in the Nine Hells is Kuhl?" Aleina muttered. "We're being asked to go into the City of the Dead at night. He is a paladin and a former member of the Evereskan Tomb Guard. This is perfect for him. If we die some horribly grisly death because he and Sky were trying to get a kitten out of a tree, I'm haunting him."

"You know," the half-drow said. "The posting said possible rescue mission. We might show up, find out we aren't needed, and get to come back home."

"Moon Maiden's Mercy, please let my friend be right about that," the aasimar said, staring up at the darkening sky as they exited out and back down those same six damnable steps.

They raced the descending sun through the cobbled streets of Waterdeep. Teams of lamplighters already plied the streets with wicks at the end of long poles. Now that they had some food in them, their legs actually loosened a little as they warmed up and glimmering sunlight still shone as they came into view of the southernmost gate of the City of the Dead.

Other than Watch members obviously getting ready to shut the gate, there were only four other figures at the designated meeting spot. One heavily pregnant, one with a toddler on his shoulders, another that toddler, and an aged, thin man in ill-fitting plate armor.

"We could just pretend we're out for a stroll and walk on by," Jhelnae suggested.

"That poor woman looks ready to burst," Aleina said. "Surely she isn't going into the City of the Dead at night like that! And they can't be planning on bringing a toddler, can they?"

The half-drow inwardly sighed, hearing the concern in her friend's voice. They were doing this.

"Oh, look," the man with the toddler on his shoulders said as they approached. "Someone has finally come after all."

He sounded relieved, but then switched to a whisper he probably didn't realize Jhelnae's elven ears could hear.

"Is that a drow?" he asked. "Not really what we expected."

He had brown hair and a closely trimmed brown beard, which made his bright green eyes below dark lashes very striking. The boy on his shoulder had the same eyes, but framed instead with curly dark hair like the small, very pregnant, dark-skinned, dark-eye woman standing next to them.

"Probably from the Dancing Haven temple in the North Ward," the old man whispered back.

He was wrong about that, but at least better informed than most. So much about the man was gray. Gray haired, gray bearded, gray eyed, a grayish cast to his skin - even the metal of his armor was gray toned, the breastplate bearing the engravings of a skeletal hand gripping balanced scales. He looked old, and weary and his armor hung loosely off his tall, spare, frame.

"Hello," Jhelnae said, smiling and adding what she hoped was a disarming wave.

"Hello," the pregnant woman said with an uncertain return smile. "I'm Sophraea Carver. Are you here because of the posting?"

Aleina held up their folded up copy of it.

"How far along are you?" she asked, motioning to the woman's belly.

"Any day now," Sophraea said, with a sigh that said she was more than ready for her pregnancy to be over.

"I'm Gustin Bone," the young man with the child on his shoulder said. "And this little fellow who won't be a big boy and stand on his own is our son, Gallant."

"Gallant?" Jhelnae asked.

The question came out before she could think about how rude it might sound.

"It's sort of a family tradition," his mother said. "My father's name is Astute. Then I have uncles named Vigilant, Sagacious, Judicious, and Perspicacity."

"Hello up there Gallant," the aasimar said. "I'm Aleina, and this is my friend Jhelnae."

The boy stared back at her, eyes suspicious and lips pursed shut.

"Now don't be rude," his father said, eyes looking up even though he wouldn't be able to see his son. "Say hello."

Gallant gave a defiant shake of his curly haired head.

"I'm so sorry," Sophraea said. "He is just tired."

She sounded exhausted herself.

"And I'm Sir Ambrose," the old knight said. "I will be accompanying you on this patrol through the City tonight - but we rather hoped for more to show up and I have to ask, have either of you two ladies done anything like this before?"

Jhelnae suddenly recognized that, as much as she'd been eyeing the knight critically based on his age, he had been doing the same for them based on their youth and gender.

"Does fighting a necromancer led undead horde from the Underdark count?" she asked, with a challenging tilt of her chin.

The man's gray eyes widened and he rocked back slightly at her statement. But his expression quickly turned thoughtful and pleased.

"Very much, so," he said. "Count me very happy to make both of your acquaintances."

"We do have some experience," the aasimar said, nodding. "The posting mentioned a possible rescue mission?"

"Two of my friends may or may not have gone missing in the City of the Dead," Sophraea said.

"May or may not?" the half-drow asked, feeling her brow wrinkle in confusion.

The curly haired woman gave an apologetic cringe.

"My friends are a thorn named Briarsting and an animated topiary dragon," she said.

"They missed Gallant's birthday, which they promised to come and help celebrate," Gustin said.

"Dragon Bush," Gallant said, speaking for the first time from on top of his father's shoulders.

"Yes, Gallant has given the very creative name of Dragon Bush to our topiary friend," Gustin said, rolling his eyes.

"Topiary dragon?" Aleina asked. "It sounds like one of those shrubs that gardeners shape with shears into an animal shape."

"That is exactly what Dragon Bush is," Sophraea said. "Except he can move around. And Briarsting is a small fey warrior with green skin and brown hair."

"With a nasty little thorn sword he is always threatening to prick people with,"

Gustin said. "We've been all over the City of the Dead calling for them, but if they don't want to be found, they won't be found."

"Any reason they wouldn't want to be found?" Aleina asked.

"No," the pregnant woman breathed out in a sigh. "Which is why I am worried about them. I just have a feeling."

"My wife is a Carver," Gustin said. "Their livelihood is the monuments and gravestones of the City of the Dead. She has lived right next to the City her whole life and probably spent more than half her life in it. So, if she has a bad feeling where the City of the Dead is concerned, it shouldn't be ignored."

"And if something bad did happen to them," Sophraea said. "It didn't happen during the day. Not without a single tomb visitor, walker, or picnicker seeing something."

"Dragon Bush is a rather large topiary guardian," Gustin explained. "Curse it all, now Gallant has me doing it."

"Which is why you want someone to take a look at night," Aleina said, nodding. "If we find someone or something suspicious they might lead us to your friends so they can be rescued."

Sophraea gave a grim nod, and from the tight pursing of her lips it was clear she realized the likely bleak possibility that her friends might not be alive to be rescued. Everyone acknowledged the same with a silent trading of glances, leaving it unsaid.

"Gustin and I would go with Sir Ambrose, but…" the woman trailed off with a gesture at her belly followed by a look at her son.

"No," the aasimar said, shaking her head. "No. Of course you shouldn't be wandering a graveyard all night in your condition. Go home, put your feet up…"

"Sir Ambrose," one of the City Watch called out. "We can't keep the gate open any longer. Standing orders, all gates shut at sun down. No exceptions as you know."

While they talked the sun had continued its descent and now had set. The only light in the area came from a pair of brightly burning lamps on either side of the mostly closed gate. A gap had been left large enough for a person to squeeze through.

"We're coming?" the old knight said, with a raised eyebrow look at Jhelnae and Aleina.

"We are," the half-drow said after a confirming glance at the aasimar and a stretch of her sore muscles.

She didn't realize how resigned and put out she sounded until Gustin and Sophraea traded a look of pure guilt.

"Go home, put your feet up, and leave the rest to us," Aleina said reassuredly as they collectively started towards the gate. "Jhelnae and I have sort of become professional errand runners for things like this."

"That is definitely true," the half-drow said, barking out a laugh.

"Oh, am I too late to join the group for the reward of an outfit tailored by the great Sophraea Carver?" a smooth voice came from behind them.

They turned to find a man in a snug fitting red and gold flamboyant doublet waving a folded up parchment, presumably a copy of the posting, and striding towards them, cape fluttering behind him. A maroon and blue feathered hat perched on his head.

For her own part, Jhelnae was so surprised by his sudden appearance she could only watch his approach in stunned silence.

"Sophraea Carver," he said, stooping in a low bow and deftly grasping a hand. "May I say your expectant abundance has magnified your charms. Such a pleasure for I, JB Nevercott, humble haberdasher, to meet a designer and a seamstress of such skill and renown."

Still bowed over, he brought the pregnant woman's knuckles to his lip before releasing her.

"Don't know if I am all that well known and regarded Sir… Nevercott," the pregnant woman said.

"That is Sophraea Carver-Bone," Gustin said, sidling protectively closer to his wife.

"Of course it is," the newcomer said. "May I congratulate you with marrying well above your means, good sir."

"You may," Gustin said with the start of a smile, then a look of confusion.

But the man had already moved on.

"Let's see, dour older knight and a pair of pretties adopting the 'I am a practical adventurer look' that never should have come into vogue," he said. "We're all here, shall we go?"

"Hold on a moment," Jhelnae said, putting up a hand. "Who are you and what is wrong with the way I am dressed?"

"JB Nevercott, haberdasher," the man said. "Do try and keep up. It is true, unfortunately isn't it, what they say, about the gods rarely giving out full cups, so fine of form typically means they sacrificed in other areas."

He tapped his head and gave a conspiratorial look at the others. The half-drow's eyes narrowed.

"And you are dressed like you are worried you are going to have to clean out grave muck and zombie bits out of it later," Nevercott said.

"Ah, don't know if you know this, but we are going into a graveyard," Aleina said. "So we are dressed appropriately."

"See there is your problem," the man said. "You said 'appropriately' and never has there been a word so in anathema to good style."

"Sir Ambrose," the Watch Captain said. "We really do need to shut the gate."

"Of course you do," Nevercott said. "And if these two would quit trying to glean free fashion advice from me, we'd already be inside. Come along ladies, I can dispense advice as we walk. Normally the clientele in need of my services is male, but for those in obvious desperate need, I'm willing to take on a couple of charity cases."

He gave the aasimar and half-drow an appraising once over with eyes of such a rich hue of blue they almost seemed purple, tut-tutted to himself, shook his head, then slipped his slim form through the gap in the gate.

"If we are attacked by zombies or skeletons tonight," Jhelnae said. "I am letting them tear his silk cape and doublet to shreds before I lift a finger to help."

"Fair enough," Aleina said, with a laugh and a shrug.

"Unless he is some sort of magicker," Sir Ambrose said. "He'll likely be more of a hindrance on our patrol. He bore no weapon I could see. But he is already inside."

He side-stepped through the gap in the gate door and the aasimar and half-drow followed. A chill breeze seemed to cut through Jhelnae as she paused inside to let her dark vision adjust to the lack of lamplight on this side of the wall. A mixture of darkness and ground creeping mist pervaded the spaces between the monuments, grave markers, and wending cobblestone paths.

"Wait, how and why is there mist in here?" Aleina asked with a palm up gesture of question. "There was no mist on the other side and now there is? That doesn't make any sense."

"Good luck," Sophraea's voice called through the crack of the closing gate. "And thank you!"

Then, with a ominous thud, the Watch brought the gate closed and they were sealed inside.

First off, in case I don't post again, Happy Thanksgiving!

Second off...I know I shouldn't use you all as beta readers, but, here is the deal. I don't have any beta readers! So you're it. And I'm really, really, thankful for that! Very thankful.

What I should do is let this sit for a bit, read through it after a few days, tweak it with a fresh mind, etc, etc. But come on... that isn't me. I'm not that disciplined when it comes to my writing. I'm just like, "Okay, I got to a good stopping point, on to the internet with you! I'm sick of you stupid words that never seem to come out right!"

;)

Another set up chapter, but should start getting into some action after this.