Sephiria said, very calmly, as she looked over the rough map Jaheira had drawn for them of the temple grounds and the route she knew that would supposedly lead there, "Do we really have to go through the sewers again?"
"We do, in fact, unless you want to go through the Thieves Guildhall. There are two entryways I know of to the underground cavern formation we need to reach. One is through the maze the Guild uses to keep out the undead, and one is through a tunnel collapse in the sewers beneath the gate district. So if you would prefer to bribe a group of criminals, or kill them all when we are in something of a hurry, by all means," Jaheira said flatly.
"You know, in better times, I would question how you know any of what you just said. For now, I'll just say, 'how do we know this tunnel has not been fixed since the last time you happened to be tramping through the sewers looking for hidden temples?'" Acherai asked. "I don't have the most faith in urban developers, but they do exist."
"If the way is blocked, we shall unblock it. We are two full parties of experienced adventurers, including a trio of mages and a pair of divine casters. If we cannot defeat a wall, then Sarevok will be cleaning all our blood from his sword before the end of the day."
"Make that two and one? I'm not sure Edwin counts as a mage, and Viconia doesn't really do 'labor.'"
"You know me so well. I can almost see you as a thinking being instead of a thin-blooded pale-skinned faerie to be crushed beneath my boot," Viconia said.
"I apologize for her. She's still in a bad mood over last night. And the night before. Do you have good moods, dear?"
"Only after I've killed an obnoxious male."
"We're not really working with these people, right? Right?" Imoen asked.
"We shall let them go first into the breach once we open it," Jaheira said diplomatically.
"Fine by me! Me and this killing machine, we are ready to crack some skulls and make some gold," Shar-teel said proudly, clamping a hand around Xan's shoulder as he looked for all the world like he wanted to run for his life, but wasn't entirely sure he would make the door before she ripped his throat out with her teeth.
"She remembers me. She was so intoxicated last night she blacked out even before Minsc stepped on her face, but she still remembers me. If I ever thought life was worth living, I have abandoned that notion," he said, apparently trying to keep his voice low in case she was attracted by loud noises.
"HA! You hear that? You godsdamned hear that? Talos's beard, this is the most bloodthirsty bastard I ever met. Doesn't even care if he lives or dies. When we all split up, I'm sticking to this one. He'll find the bloodiest sword work I've ever seen, I just know it."
"Oh, sweet Corellon, defend your lost child."
"Minsc is pleased friend Xan has found love," Minsc said, nodding sagely. "Wise Dynaheir, when may we crush this vile Red Wizard in honor of their meeting?"
"I thought you talked to him about that!" Edwin screeched bravely.
"You guys know, you're not like, makin' me feel better here," Imoen said. "Does anyone else feel like we're all gonna die? I'm gettin' that feeling."
"I ain't dyin'. You might. Ya seem soft," Kagain said, lightly polishing the enchanted hammer he had very much come to consider the only decent companion he'd acquired from the entire journey.
Jaheira's nails made a kind of terrible crunching noise as she gripped the table. "Please. Focus. All. Of. You. NOW."
"Let them be themselves," Acherai said with a shrug. "Let's be honest here, morale is one of our few advantages here. Sarevok is dug in and he knows we're coming. No matter how or where we get into his lair, the odds are he'll be well-guarded, and we're going to have to punch through his defenses with main strength. Defenses we don't know, I might add."
Jaheira winced. "Yes. Which is why I feel now compelled to draw our attention to the elephant in the room, and how silent she has been."
"I cannot help you," Tamoko said softly from her position in the corner of the inn's common room, her hands still bound behind her. "I am aware of the temple you speak of. But I have only ever entered or left by magic, and never been outside the main sacrificial chamber. Any defenses that Sarevok or that devil Perorate have prepared around the structure are unfamiliar to me."
"She's lying," Viconia drawled. "Give me twenty minutes alone with her, a few old knives from the kitchens here, and a few vials of something caustic. We should have a more accurate understanding of the forces opposing us shortly."
"We do not torture prisoners, dark one, and I do not appreciate the implication," Sephiria said softly. "She has no reason to lie to us at this point."
"Does she not? I confess I do not understand why you've let this one live as long as you have, because as a few of your own group have been kind enough to inform me, she is Sarevok's lover," the drow snapped. "Now. I would have no compulsions about slitting the throat of any male who turned against me as hers has. But my experience with surface females has told me they are very nearly as weak and sentimental as your males. Does she 'care'about him? If so, nothing she says can be trusted."
"Sweet Sehanine, I am agreeing with a drow," Xan said.
"Do not attempt to ingratiate yourself with me, darthiir. I barelytolerate the one I have now and have no desire at all to add another to my collection unless it is as a slave."
"… Why does your group keep talking about enslaving me?" Xan asked.
"You probably just got an enslavable face," Imoen said helpfully, patting him on the back. "Anyway, Seffie likes the crazy lady, so we're keeping her. You should understand that, you are a crazy lady."
"I am not crazy. I wish I was. It would make things much easier on me. I would be with Sarevok right now, instead of being tied to a chair in the corner of a defunct inn," Tamoko said. "And you are quite right not to trust me. I… understand what is happening. I saw the smoke rising from the tower ruins. You are… going to kill him."
"Not if we can—" Sephiria began.
"Do not lie to me, and especially do not lie to yourself!" Tamoko snapped."Hewon't give you a choice. We both know it. He… he is gone, and he does not want to come back. There is nothing left but to put my love down like a mad dog, and I… I cannot…" she stopped, taking a deep breath, as if willing the pain to flow out of her body. "Your drow is right. My emotions are compromised. I swear to you I know nothing that could help you, but I also tell you now that if I did, I could not be trusted to actually share it. If you don't believe me, torture me as you will. Use magic to rip my mind open. Kill me, if it pleases you. It… it doesn't matter, anymore. Nothing matters."
"I will say it now: I do not trust or approve of this woman's presence, but I also do not approve of torture and murder. I should very much enjoy watching her taken to the authorities, tried for her crimes, and hanged. She would deserve every second of it. But while she is our prisoner, she'll not be touched. We are veterans all, and when we reach the temple we'll cope with whatever is arrayed against us, so whatever knowledge she has or doesn't have will stay firmly in her un-shattered skull until then," Jaheira snapped. "And do not think I would hesitate to kill every one of you, even over something so undeserving as her. At least two of you have already confessed to having some past in the slave trade, and in my mind the only useful purpose for a slaver in this world is as fertilizer. Are we clear?!"
Acherai grinned and turned toward Sephiria. "I like your mother. She's enthusiastic."
"Oh, do shut up," Sephiria said, trying very hard not to look anyone in the eye.
"She i-i-is enthusiastic, t-though," Khalid said fondly. "… You really all s-should focus now, w-we wouldn't w-w-want her to get r-really angry. S-she is enthusiastic, but not known for j-j-joking."
Entar had been polite enough to have his remaining employees (and his daughter, who had whined a lot) go to the smithy three streets down and purchase a variety of spare weaponry and armor, which he had chosen to politely state was not to be used for anything illegal such as vigilante justice against a man that the Flaming Fist would likely not have a bounty against for a few more days, and left to oversee the repairs to his home.
Jaheira had chosen to supplement her favorite quarterstaff with a very fine scimitar that she was now pressing her hand against meaningfully.
Everyone decided to focus from then on.
(*)
The plan, such as it was, was simple and approved immediately by both Acherai and Sephiria; him because it put him in relatively minimal danger, and her because it put her in relatively huge danger, which Jaheira supposed just showed that some apples fell so far from the tree they ended up in different countries from each other.
It had been about twenty years since Jaheira and Khalid had been to the temple with Gorion, but it was not an experience that anyone would ever forget. The actual grounds of the cavern were composed of a series of walls, ranging from chest-high on Jaheira to twice the height of Khalid; the remnants of some old city the Gate was built atop, they assumed. It was hardly so complex nor thickly arrayed as to qualify as a maze, and the Temple of Bhaal was the only structure in the cavern worth mentioning, visible from anywhere inside with sufficient light.
The problem, because of course there was a problem, was that the ruins might have been impossible to get lost in, but they were perfectly fine for hiding in. Which was an issue indeed because they were also crawling with hostile undead of all shapes and sizes.
The front lines would be Sephiria, Kagain, Khalid, and Minsc. Their primary goal was to spring whatever trap awaited, and in so doing expose it to the second wave; Jaheira, Coran, and Shar-teel, themselves also excellent fighters but less generally durable, would flank whatever enemy presented itself. Once Sarevok's first line of defense was trapped between two walls of metal, the rear lines, Acherai, Viconia, Xan, Dynaheir, Edwin, and Imoen, would take that opportunity to go on the offensive and burn them down as quickly and efficiently as possible. They would repeat the process, then, for each new pocket of resistance. It was a simple plan and a lot could go badly if the enemy was lucky or more skilled than expected, but it was easy to coordinate and allowed them several quick minds free of the melee who could help the entire group adapt quickly if something went terribly wrong.
It was a little sad, but at this point everyone agreed something definitely would…
(*)
"…and that's why," Kagain said shortly after as they trudged through the sewers, taking the northern route to the rendezvous point while Sephiria's group took the southern, to make them more difficult to detect, "we should turn around right now, head up north ta Luskan, and hire on as caravan guards. Safer, good pay, move all around over the North so nobody would ever find us, and there ain't no bloody Harpers in Luskan."
"Hm?" Acherai asked. "I'm sorry, I was mostly ignoring you because you are contractually obliged to be here if you want to keep any of your money from this venture, but what was that last bit?"
"The rest of you might be amateurs," Kagain said flatly, "but I've been around in my time. Did a tour as a sellsword in Zhentil Keep before the fall. Some in the Dales too. The secret spell-meetings, the bleeding-heart 'prisoners are people too' bull, the whining about the slavers… that elf wench is a Harper, or I'll shave my beard. And that means even if we win this, we need to grab anything valuable we can and run if we want to make a profit. Only a matter of time before they send in more to take everything 'for the greater balance.'" He spat, which seemed like overkill in sewage up to his knees.
"… Huh. I've never actually met a Harper," Acherai admitted. "Are you sure? I always imagined them as more impressive than a pair of frumpy southern adventurers running a nursery for teenage paladins. But then they are supposed to keep their membership secret, so…"
"No."
"No you aren't sure?"
"No to whatever yer planning. Harpers are pests, pure an' simple. Worse than roaches. If you kill one a hundred start coming after ya, and if you take a coin from one they start compoundin' interest the second it touches yer palm. I ain't fighting that one, and I definitely ain't working for her. After this, we go our separate ways."
Acherai grinned. "Maybe I just want to see if she can get me a dinner date with one of the Silverhand sisters. We have a lot in common, after all. A flair for magic. Divine heritage. Devilish good looks."
Viconia snorted. "Perhaps a thin-blooded pale child of an insipid human goddess would enjoy your… unique bedroom technique. But be careful you don't break the poor dear when the barbarian steps on her spine."
"Are you going to hold that against me forever?"
"Only for as long as your worthless life continues."
"I didn't invite him, you know. Blame Edwin."
"Do not draw attention to me," Edwin hissed. "Rashemi assassins are everywhere, you fool."
"I firmly doubt that anyone cares enough about you to seek your death, Edwin. But just in case I'm wrong, do continue to stand alone near the back of the group where you're an easier target," Acherai said. Coran and Shar-teel, as if on cue, took several steps to the side so they were farther from Edwin.
It wasn't until after the disaster that they realized this had most likely saved someone's life.
Shar-teel took one step forward along her slightly new path, put her foot down in what appeared to be nothing more than another normal stretch of sewer water, and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, beginning to scream "Get back!"
She made it through the first syllable before the sword, wickedly serrated and deadly sharp despite the coating of filth and bloody rust atop it, burst from the filthy water and through her stomach.
(*)
Winski Perorate was not a general, but one didn't become a mage without a quick mind and (more to the point) a knowledge of escape routes from dangerous situations. He had found the Harpers' 'secret' entrance to the temple grounds years ago, at which point he had spent a few hours, late at night, disguising it from casual observers and telling nothing of it to Sarevok or even his own apprentices. Even back then, when Sarevok had been closer to conventionally sane, it had occurred to him he might one day need to make a quick escape from his master with little warning, and leaving himself options to do that was never a bad plan. And so, with an attack imminent and manpower at an all-time low, he had predicted quickly enough where the strike would originate from.
And he had spent several weeks, everything he had learned of Bhaal's power in his many years of study, and a great many valuable necromantic spells preparing a countermeasure for the temple grounds.
All across the sewers, reacting to one of their number awakening on their programmed command to kill any who disturbed them, they rose. Some missing limbs; some with armor and weapons that were little more than shards of metal twisted into their bodies; some with helmets crushed in too far to allow any sort of solid skull beneath; some burned black and shedding bone dust with every motion. The only thing the macabre skeletal army had in common was the symbol of Bhaal etched into all their breastplates; even on the most damaged armor among them, that skull still grinned out at the world, as if daring anyone to remove it.
Coated in sewer filth, old blood, and the dust of their own makeshift crypt, the Deathbringers rose from beneath the waters and marched to defend the Temple of Bhaal, mindlessly fulfilling their duties long after their own deaths. But any who sought to break their vigil this day would find the Skeleton Warriors that rose to meet them, armed and armored still in the decrepit steel of Bhaal's warrior cults, were far more deadly than they had ever been in life.
In the temple proper, Sarevok sat in the center of the holy symbol carved into the floor, his eyes the only light in the dead building, and smiled beneath the spiked helmet.
"Old man, letting you live out your last few years really was worth it."
(*)
Sephiria had not, at the time, fully comprehended what was happening. One moment they had just been tromping through the sewers, planning to meet with Ach 0erai's party in a few more minutes according to Jaheira's maps. The next, what seemed like an army was simply bursting from the filth like some kind of nightmare, both from the path they had just taken and the only way ahead, trapping them between a half dozen ragged, vile, things. But more, just looking at them felt… wrong. Familiar, somehow, but wrong, like a tune she could only half-remember playing off-key in the back of her mind.
Of course, she did not have long to consider this, because they were surprisinglyfast for waterlogged skeletons stuffed in decaying armor, and they were not friendly.
Sephiria was the first to the front line, reacting less on actual thought and more on instinct that snapped in her mind to move before any of them had consciously realized they were under attack. She met the first charging corpse head on, her shining blade slamming home against its rusted one with enough force that most men she had met would have been left on the floor with two dislocated shoulders.
The monster met the attack without any sign of discomfort, not reacting in any visible way even as her weapon dug half an inch into the metal of its rusted blade, and even on the slick sewer floor it did not give so much as a single step of ground before her.
And then, with the barest motion, it began to push her back.
(*)
The thing about a cleric in the group, Acherai mused for a half-second before he did something that seemed deeply stupid on the surface, was that conventional medical wisdom was often just somewhat pointless.
Acherai leaped forward, threw an arm around Shar-teel's shoulders, and pulled her back off the blade with as much force as he could muster, while shouting "Edwin! Viconia! Make yourselves useful!" even as he dove forward with the half-conscious woman into the filth.
The warrior woman began to gush blood from her suddenly opened wound almost immediately; Acherai saw it clouding red into the disgusting brown water before he lost his footing and fell into it, cursing mentally. He did not see the creature fully rise up behind them, nor see what Edwin chose to do to it; he merely heard the detonation and Kagain snarling out a long string of dwarven profanity, even through the muck in his ears. He just knew that when he pulled himself and… most of the woman in his arms off the floor, the undead thing was blasted halfway down the tunnel with a red-hot hole in its breastplate and most of the ribs underneath seared black and smoking.
It was also still moving.
He cursed, propping the gasping Shar-teel against a wall, and Viconia had already laid a glowing hand across her stomach before he'd even finished the moving. "Leave her to me," the drow hissed.
"Quickly. We need to run, get somewhere defensible, and-"
"Shut up and look."
He turned, eyes wide, to see two more identical creatures rising from the knee-deep water on either side of the one they had just stunned.
And from the path behind them, two more boxing them in.
… 'Brother dear,' I take back all the pragmatism I was planning to show in dealing with you. You're going to die for this, and horribly.
"Coran, hold them back. Kagain! We can't let ourselves be surrounded here!" he snapped.
The elf and dwarf were both already moving. Kagain slammed into the fallen undead hammer-first before it fully reached its feet, shocks of lightning running down its body to sputter out in the filthy water with tiny shocks of steam. The creature fell to one knee, its right leg physically too broken to support its weight. Coran danced in between the two that had cut off their retreat, his blade singing with as much skill as his bow ever had, not focusing on doing damage so much as just trying to keep both foes targeting only him and unable to land a blow on anything but cold steel.
Acherai tried not to roll his eyes despite the seriousness of the situation; a casual observer might have found the elf thief dignified and useful at that moment. Still, it was a good sign to the start of the encounter.
Which meant, of course, that it did not last.
(*)
Sephiria had, in her brief adventures, fought bandits, mercenaries, hobgoblins, dwarf warriors, and a literal demigod. She had not really enjoyed any of it, but she had at least found herself to have a talent for the work. In particular, she was strong, maybe even stronger than Minsc if he wasn't descending into a berserk rage over gerbils or something. Of those many threats, only Sarevok had been able to meet her blade-for-blade and hold against her with main strength.
Until now.
She strained her muscles and held it, blade locked, maneuvering it to ensure the other skeleton coming down the tunnel behind it would have to decapitate its own ally in order to get to her, but she knew just from the pressure on her arms that it would not last. The simple truth was that she could feel her muscles screaming with the effort, and that this thing was not going to get tired. Trying to fight it in her preferred style was not going to work. She needed to think up some other option, and quickly, because the second creature behind it was already drawing back its own sword, very much intending to go through its ally to reach her, and she didn't see a way to avoid it…
An arrow zipped past her head, so close she felt her hair flutter from its passage, and slammed into the eye-socket of the creature she was holding at bay.
This would have been dramatic and impressive, if it hadn't simply lodged in the bone, clattering about in the empty skull, without doing any visible damage or weakening the pressure on her blade in the slightest.
"I was hoping that would help more!" Imoen admitted.
"They are Skeleton Warriors, then. This is bad," Jaheira muttered. "Minsc! Sephiria! Khalid's blade and my staff are enchanted, let he and I hold the front line! You two need to focus on keeping them from the others, you can't hurt them!"
"I… I truly wish… this had been brought up earlier!" Sephiria snapped, pulling her head back as the second undead finally began trying to attack her in earnest, outright hacking chunks of its own ally's bones away as it slammed its weapon into her guard again and again to try to get to her more quickly. And the front skeleton simply refused to let her unlock their blades, pushing against her with unchanging, inhuman force as its dead eyes bored into…
Wait.
'Hacking chunks out of its own ally…'?
She grinned at the sudden realization, and moved. Without any warning she stopped trying to hold the monster back and instead pulled it into her, the smell of sewer rot and grave dust overwhelming as the beast's inhuman power was suddenly turned against it. It feel forward, its own momentum carrying it into Sephiria's shoulder as she sent it tumbling over her into the sewer water…
And leaving its filth-coated blade clattering to the wet stones.
She ignored her own weapon, diving for that sword. It felt cold and heavy and wrong in her hands, but she raised it with perfection born from years of drilling and months of constant struggling for survival, as the second monster lunged at her…
And impaled itself on the stolen blade with its own strength, right through the spot where its heart should have been, cutting through its breastplate like it didn't exist. There was a hideous shriek of sparks and dark smoke far beyond anything that metal on metal should have allowed. The undead's empty eyes flared with cold light, almost like something was eating it from the inside, and the pressure against her arms suddenly diminished as the beast's began trying to free itself from the weapon rather than try to push forward further.
And Sephiria always the helpful sort, yanked the blade free with another shower of sparks, before whipping it around to cut in at the thing's neck, a perfect strike right between two vertebrae. The skull went flying, slamming against the sewer wall and exploding in a shower of bone shards and dust. She grinned at her old-new sword, the rust and filth on the blade having fallen away in chunks to reveal gleaming steel… and a pale, unpleasant red light that occasionally flared up on the edge as the weapon moved.
"Minsc!" she called. "Hurry, take the weapon from this one! We can-"
And then the one she had thrown over herself wrapped its cold, steel-coated, inhumanly strong arms around her from behind, and began to squeeze.
As she felt her first rib break almost immediately, strangely, the only thing she could think was, Sweet Torm, why do you still let me be confident about things…?
(*)
The two skeletons pressuring Coran sped up to match him, a grace that would have been rare to find with one hand, swung its broadsword against Kagain's shield, clearly not feeling any discomfort to speak of. The dwarf caught the blow, despite the strange angle making both attack and interception extremely awkward, turning it aside and stepping into the swing to slam his helmeted head into the creature's nose. A dwarf's skull was considerably harder than a human's, whether it had skin over it or not, and the attack would have most likely left a normal enemy with the shards of their cheekbones driven six inches into their brain.
Kagain bounced off, cursing and grabbing at his suddenly bleeding head even as she slammed his hammer across to strike away another sword swinging down at him, a second skeleton coming in behind the first to attack him over its shoulder. "Blood-spewing pus-bursting hells! Magic only on these ones! Drow, put my head back together before they take out the rest of it!"
Acherai did not curse out loud, but only because there was no time. If these beasts were immune to un-enchanted weaponry, that meant they were much stronger than the naturally-occurring undead that flocked to places touched by death magic. Rather, he raised a wand, aiming at the ceiling over Viconia's head, and said, "If she can't walk, leave her!"
"Not… getting rid of me that easy," Shar-teel snarled. Blood was still slipping from the hole in her armor, and her face was so pale it made her tattoos look almost matte-black in comparison, but she was able to shove past the drow and limping toward Kagain, stooping to grab at one of her dropped swords so she could swing in at the skeletons he was holding back.
Acherai nodded, and said, "Coran, run! Edwin, Fireball, on my target!"
And then he triggered the wand, followed shortly and delightfully by Edwin's spell of fireball. He had to admit, the Thayvian had no mind for tactics, politics, or anything requiring subtlety at all, but he could get a spell off fast. The two balls of ruby flame impacted against the sewer ceiling at almost the exact same moment.
The blast wave was so intense Acherai actually felt himself leave the ground as he was running away from it, hurled forward over Kagain's head and once more landing without in the sewer slime, dangerously close to the pair of skeletons the dwarf had been holding back. But the deafening sound of the streets above collapsing down on top of their pursuers made it very worth the indignity.
At least until the ceiling above him started to rapidly crack along the lines where the stone next to it had shattered, and he began to wonder if mistakes had been made.
(*)
Imoen was not sure what to do, but she'd never let that stop her before. Aunty Jahrrie and Uncle Khally were holding one front. Minsc holding the other; he did not have a magic sword, but he was really furious, and sometimes that was enough to just hold the line. But they were gonna die, and it was gonna be Seffie going down first at this rate.
So with no better ideas, she turned to the two mages, and chose to delegate with her natural calm and dignity.
"Solve the problem!" she shrieked.
Dynaheir sighed. "Child, magecraft is of little value against such beasts. Their natural resistance 'tis…"
Imoen held up a hand in a shushing gesture. "I think we're in a situation where it's worth a shot, thanks!"
"I… could try to collapse the tunnel 'pon them…?" Dynaheir said slowly. "No, we are beneath the city. Even if t'were safe, only a monster would endanger innocent lives so."
Not so very far away, the tunnels very suddenly shifted with a deafening sound of shattering stone, the rumbling so intense that Imoen felt it in her teeth. Cracks, barely visible but very audible, began to spread along the walls and ceiling. Pieces of rubble began to shift, with a very ominous and unpleasant creaking noise.
"Oh. Right. Our allies are monsters," Xan said.
"How do we burn down everything we fight in?!" Imoen screeched. "Gods above! Merchant costers, mines, towers, and now we're just taking the whole city with us!"
"Probably only about a few blocks of it, at most."
"Not the point, Xan!"
"I thought you liked optimism."
"What I'd like is for you to quit bein' a depressing donkey and use that stupid sword you carry around!"
"What? No. I can't sword-fight a lethal undead warrior, are you insane? I'll stick to my magic, of course."
"You haven't been doing that either!"
"Well, of course not. It wouldn't work on the undead. You can't Charm them."
"Then give your sword to someone who can use it, at least! Minsc is basically just swinging around a piece of paper out there, for all the good he is!"
"Oh, no. Anyone but I who draws this blade will die. It is my curse, you see, to be forever trapped in the cold and ultimately meaningless web of the Elven royal family, although I myself have no hope of-"
Without another word, Imoen ripped the sheathed blade from his belt.
It was a bad, bad choice. Just touching the sheathed sword was like gripping a red-hot iron bar. But she persisted, even as she felt the blue light limning the sheathe burning her palms down to the bone… at least for the five seconds it took her to reach Sephiria and shove the thing between the exposed ribs of the monster trying to crush her.
And hoo boy, did that have an effect.
The skeleton, a creature that she was reasonably sure could not feel pain and which definitely did not have lungs, screamed as azure fire took root and began to run across its bones beneath the armor, lighting the whole . In a… distressingly lifelike reaction, it threw Sephiria aside, the young paladin gasping for air, and frantically grasped at the Moonblade to attempt to pull it three.
Unfortunately, it did so by the hilt.
The explosion of azure light was blinding, seemingly even to the other skeleton warriors. And when it faded, there was nothing left but a few flakes of ash and the elven sword lying abandoned in the muck.
Xan blinked. "So. I shall need to have my uncle explain to me again why it is an honor to carry one of those…"
"Why are you all standing around?!" Acherai screamed as he ran down the tunnel, his entire party following as closely as they could manage, even the noticeably pale and limping Shar-teel. "Run, run, run!"
The rumbling got louder. Quickly.
They ran, going so far as to actually shove one of the undead horrors out of the way simply because there was no time to do anything else befoooooore…
Boom.
(*)
It was not, in fact, a whole city block.
What collapsed, in the end, was just about one quarter mile of road along Dragonpine street, in front of Sorcerous Sundries in the gate district. A major path, to be sure, but thankfully it rumbled for quite a bit before giving up the ghost and crashing down hard into the sewers beneath it. There were no civilian casualties beyond one thief by the name of Nicky the Knife who had been trying to get into the second floor of a home bordering the collapse and lost his grip in the chaos, falling onto an ornamental fence and being impaled through the neck.
This helped absolutely nobody feel better.
"You… you. You did this," Jaheira snarled as she looked at the almost solid wall of shattered stone blocking them off from any exit from the sewers. "Not only have you endangered Silvanus knows how many people…"
"Probably only one city block," Xan offered.
"Not the point, elf!" she snapped.
"I'm not sure why you're so angry. I need to find some way back into all… that… to find my Moonblade. I'll start slowly dying if I get too far from it," Xan huffed. "Yes, a real honor to carry one, isn't it? I hate my uncle."
"Why am I angry?" Jaheira asked, whirling suddenly on Acherai with one of her eyes noticeably twitching. "Not only have you most likely killed more than one innocent in the city above! Not only have you blocked our only path out of this putrid hell! But it didn't even kill the bloody monsters!"
As if to punctuate her anger, a fistful of stone fell off the pile as something could be heard scraping at the other side.
Acherai coughed, rock dust pluming off his coat. "Well. I admit it didn't turn out well, but considering the only other option was to die, I'm not going to take too many critiques here. At least we have some time to regroup now."
"I would really be down for someone making my hands look less like Winthrop's char-broil surprise," Imoen said. "They, uh, they don't even hurt anymore. I think that's a bad sign…"
Sephiria sighed, kneeling beside her sister and pressing her lightly glowing palms into Imoen's ruined fingers. "I've got you, Immy. Jaheira… as angry as I am, and trust me, I am angry that innocents have been drawn into this… for the moment, I think we need to accept it was done with intent to survive more than malice, and determine what to do next."
"… Bah," Jaheira said, sitting down against a wall and rubbing at her temples. "Dearest, I cannot focus. Too much time in the bowels of this blasted city. Please."
"W-who has a weapon t-t-that can harm those creatures?" Khalid said, holding up his own well-worn but still slightly too shiny sword as an example. Acherai, Kagain, Shar-teel, and Minsc stepped forward.
"… M-M-Minsc, I know you do not. I just saw you n-not," Khalid said.
"Shar-teel, you better not because if you do, you have even less excuse for being worthless up to now," Acherai snapped.
"Hehehehe… friend Khalid assumes much of Minsc. For you see, with the wisdom of Boo, Minsc has grown! Transformed! His might for butt-kicking is BEYOND EVEN HIMSELF!" Minsc roared with unimaginable pride.
"I gave him the sword I took from that Skeleton Warrior in the first skirmish, Khalid," Sephiria said. "I… I didn't like touching it."
"ALSO YES!" Minsc confirmed with another roar of absolute pride. Boo squeaked.
Acherai sighed. "Shar…?"
She shrugged and unsheathed the shorter of her two blades, revealing a blade of glossy black metal lined in soft red light. "Never got a chance to use it before I got gutted back there. Looking to make up for that. I'm angry now."
"… Is that the sword from the assassin that tried to kill us at Entar's mansion?" Acherai asked with a confused blink. "When did you get…"
"I took it from his corpse."
"… You could have mentioned you had it before now, woman!"
"Want me to take it off your corpse too? Keep taking that tone with me."
Viconia chuckled as Acherai's mouth opened and closed a few times, with no words coming out. "Oh, the look on your face, abbil. If she was drow, I would have to poison her for being a worthy rival."
"I… you know what, I give up. Here," Acherai said, handing a short metal staff strapped across his back over to Khalid. "I have mostly been using it as a walking stick, I'm not much good with it. We did confirm it was magic shortly after I took it from Garrick's dead idiot boss, back when I thought I could succeed in this profession, but there hasn't really been anyone to put it to good use."
"You could have given it to me!" Edwin protested.
"I said good use," Acherai drawled. "Now, which of us is going down to kill Sarevok while the others hold this mess back?"
"D-do you really feel splitting the party is a w-w-wise choice?" Khalid asked.
"I feel we don't have a choice. We're flanked here," Acherai said, gesturing back and forth to the hole in the wall further down the tunnel, what should have been a dead end opening up into an intense, foreboding darkness that the light from the city above couldn't touch. "Sarevok is down there, and definitely not alone. If we don't deal with him, we risk him coming up here to deal with us while we fight his dried-out friends on the other side of the rubble."
"I wish you'd put that differently," Sephiria muttered. "And obviously, you and I have to. It's… I hate to say 'destiny,' but I suspect he'll just flee if we aren't there. We're the ones he wants."
"You just try an' keep me from going," Imoen said. "Hey, um… I don't know your name, so I'mma call you 'Drowy.'"
"Do not do that," Viconia said.
"We need a healer, so Drowy should come with us too. And… hmmmm… I wanna say 'wizard' but none of them are really good except Dynaheir an' she's…"
"WHERE DYNAHEIR GOES, SO GOES NOBLE MINSC!"
"… a package deal."
The Rashemi witch rolled her eyes. "Minsc, remain here and guard my path home. I shalt return anon, worry not."
"Minsc worries constantly for his charge, wise Dyna-"
"He also follows her commands and she please, please, is telling him to stay here," Dynaheir said, her tone and her eyes both suggesting, very loudly, that she really needed a break from this and would be willing to set someone on fire to get it.
"… Boo states that yes, Minsc does obey his witch in all things."
"Boo is wise."
"Squeak!" Boo said.
Acherai shrugged. "I'd say we have room for one more and could use a little more physical muscle. Coran, you're useless here, form in and get ready to move."
"Well. Boss, as much as I would just love to descend into the blackened depths of the world with a drow to fight an evil demigod, I…"
"If you don't pick up your bow, quit whining, and get ready to take point behind Sephiria down that tunnel right the Hells now, I will absolutely give Kagain permission to break your knees and use you as skeleton bait," Acherai hissed.
"Can I also have his money after he dies?" Kagain asked.
"… That is a group of six, then! I look forward to helping out!" Coran declared.
Jaheira, sitting with her head in her hands as if she was about to cry, said, "Just… just all of you go away."
Khalid patted her softly on the shoulder. "I-I could use a vacation t-t-too, dear."
(*)
The tunnel sloped gently downward for what seemed like an eternity as the hastily chosen and not terribly happy group descended it behind the light of a small lantern secured on Sephiria's belt. The atmosphere was thick as blood, and all of them were on edge and frankly miserable, as no matter how far they went down, the path never seemed to stop sloping.
Viconia grinned and took a deep breath of the tunnel air. "Ahhhhhh. I may never see the beauty of the true Underdark again, but this is a pleasant change at least. No sun, no wind, no filthy trees filling my nostrils with the stench of weakling nature gods. Just stone and darkness on all sides, as is right and proper."
All right, most of them were miserable.
"Could you please stop her from talking about the stone on all sides? It just occurred ta me we could… we definitely will cause a cave-in," Imoen muttered. "We can't help it. We just break shit. It's cause Seffie's a damn behemoth."
"Behemoth?!"
"Focus, please," Acherai muttered. "In addition to Sarevok there will be a mage or cleric down here who is responsible for those skeletons. We should try to avoid being noticed as much as we can.
"That'll be hard, considerin' we have a fire-haired giant on the front lines," Imoen said cheerfully.
"Well, I'm sorry I'm not stealthy! I suppose it's because I'm a decent person and not a sneak-thief!" Sephiria snapped, pushing aside the last bits of rubble as they stepped into the temple grounds proper at last. "And I'm just tall, you're acting like I'm some kind of… there's a… a diff…er…"
"Oh," Imoen said.
Jaheira had made some effort to tell them the scale of what they were dealing with, but actually seeing it was an entirely different thing. The cavern was magical in nature, it had to be given how large it was and its position directly under the city; none of them felt they had gone deep enough into the earth for the cave ceiling to be so high above them. This close to the surface, every instinct Sephiria had told her that a massive chunk of Baldur's Gate should be falling through the stone and landing on them. Further, while it was still dark, it should have been black as pitch; there were no chutes leading to the surface as in the sewers, and no torches save the one guttering in Imoen's hand. Despite this, they could see clearly. As if everything about the cave had some faint inner light, outlining it against their eyes despite what should have been perfect darkness.
Nobody particularly liked this.
"It's… gods, there was an entire city down here," Sephiria murmured, her eyes combing the ruins. "Not… not as many as above, but there are buildings. Houses. People lived around this temple. It was a center of a community. Families, children, spending their entire lives in this lightless hell? Just to be closer to a temple to Bhaal?!"
"Priests of murder have families too, I suppose," Acherai said. "And they would have had… bodyguards. Servants. A cult may not be what we think of when we think 'community,' but if you gather enough people together for a long enough time, someone will eventually have to go bring home dinner and clean the privies…"
"This isn't a joke," Sephiria hissed.
"No, it clearly is not!" he countered, waving an arm at the necropolis. "I was here, you know. I remember that temple. It was the worst experience of my life, and finding out what was around it? That there were people, dozens or even hundreds of them who lived and loved and prayed to their god every day at some point here. All around a temple where their priests killed children and bathed in their blood with a delighted smile. I'm not finding it very funny at all. I want more than anything to burn this place and spit on the ashes."
Imoen chuckled nervously. "Well, I mean, we do tend to get there eventually…"
"This really isn't the time, Imoen," Sephiria said.
"… Are you okay? I know why creepy elf here is upset, but have you been down here too?" Imoen asked, putting a hand on her sister's shoulder.
"I… I don't know. It feels right and wrong at the same time. My head is pounding just looking at it," the young paladin muttered. "I want to retch from the mere thought. But at the same time it's… it's familiar. I… gods, I think I know this place, but it just isn't…"
Imoen nodded once, in deep sympathy, and then smacked her across the face.
"Ow!" Both women said in unison.
"What was that for?!" Sephiria snapped.
"Why is your face so hard?!" Imoen snapped right back.
"I don't know! I've never slapped it before! Explain!"
"I was tryin' to cheer you up!"
"By hitting me?!"
"I thought you liked that! You're all muscley and you always head to the front of the party!"
"No!"
"Well I'm sorry! I'm not good at cheerin', I guess! But at least it snapped you out of your weird creepy murder-god funk, right?!"
"Yes! By making me angry!"
"So you're welcome!"
Acherai sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "And three, two, one…"
Deeper into the cavern, something roughly the size of a bear and familiar to Sephiria in a much more personal way roared, far overpowering the hissing of something cold and long-dead stirring. She didn't know where in the twisted mess of ruins ahead of them that Tazok and the undead were, per se, but judging by the sound of stone being crushed underfoot getting steadily closer, they sure knew where she was.
He turned to the two girls, and said, his tone one of absolute contempt, "Not to imply anything, ladies, but I kind of see why your team's den mother doesn't like you very much."
(*)
In the Blade and Stars, Tamoko sighed, and let the waves of pain spur her on as she, for the third time, slammed her manacled thumb into the wall behind her, until finally she heard the sickening crunch she had been hoping for. Slowly, torturously, as her head swam with dizziness that she desperately fought to keep from becoming outright blackness, she slid the newly dislocated thumb through the manacle, and then sliding the shackles free from the chair she had been left secured to.
She did not bother trying to relocate the digit; she almost definitely would pass out trying to deal with that a second time, and it would be more efficient in general to find her holy symbol among the gear the groups had left behind. So, hand throbbing madly, she made her way to the inn's basement and began to dig through the packs, following the barest whisper at the edge of her mind. None of them could use it, none of them could afford any dead weight...
She pulled her holy symbol from the oldest and most ragged of the packs, the polished steel catching the dim candlelight of the cellar more brightly than it perhaps should have. It felt strangely heavy in her hand, and she wasn't sure if the weight was divine power, or the choices it now offered.
They were only two, of course, but that was still more than she'd had a moment ago. And they were… they were not insubstantial.
Without a word, not even a muttered prayer, she left the inn and began to look for an entrance into the city's sewer network.