Chapter Eighteen

Unexpected Encounters

1485 DR / Day 21

The Lost Tomb of Khaem

When Dawnbringer confirmed that the tomb was clear of both traps and undead in the wake of Brysis's defeat, the adventurers felt safe enough to settle down in the hidden room for a well-deserved long rest. Fargas fell asleep within just a few minutes, so deep was his exhaustion. His companions took more time to wind down. Zelyra cleaned and bandaged Balasar's hand; it had been her spell that burned him after all. Near them, Kazimir eagerly studied the sword taken from Brysis's sarcophagus.

Like Glimmer, the ancient sun blade was an invention of the Netherese people. But Dawnbringer—as the wizard soon learned she was named—had the added novelty of sentience. Kazimir had so many questions, and Dawnbringer was glad to answer to the best of her ability. She was only a sword, after all. And yet, a sentient sword that had once been attuned to an arcanist. This was the opportunity of a lifetime! [1]

"But why would an arcanist need a sword?" the wizard pondered aloud.

"Why not? It's foolish to rely on magic alone," Zelyra answered. Then, when Kazimir gave her a baffled look, the druid clarified, "Think of it this way: if your well of magic ran out, what would you turn to?"

Kazimir didn't have an honest answer. Fortunately, he'd never been in that predicament. There were several simple spells that he always retained as a backup.

"Or better yet, imagine being in a situation where you could not cast spells but had to fight." Zelyra shot the wizard a pointed look, silently reminding him that they'd once been in a similar situation.

"An anti-magic field," Kazimir muttered, recalling the magic placed upon the slave pens of Velkynvelve. "I suppose I'd hope I had someone like Balasar with me then." He grinned cheekily at the dragonborn fighter.

"But what if there wasn't? What if it was you and me?" Zelyra prompted.

"Then I suppose we'd be dead. There is a lot of hypothetical thinking to this point of yours, you know!"

"No, we wouldn't be," the druid said, gesturing to her scimitar and shield. "It's the first thing that the druids taught me. Never rely on spellcasting alone. Never rely on shapeshifting alone. You must be flexible. Otherwise, you wind up dead. And if you must choose between the sword or shield, always choose the shield. It can both defend and function as a weapon."

"You should listen to her," Dawnbringer's voice rang in Kazimir's head. "That is wise advice."

The wizard crossed his arms across his chest. "Fine. When we find a market, I'll buy a dagger—" He'd scarcely finished the statement when a dagger suddenly came flying at him. It missed the tiefling by mere inches, and it was clear that was the intent of the thrower. Kazimir looked up in alarm, only to find Sarith staring at him.

"Have one of mine," the drow offered.

The wizard suspiciously eyed the spider-hilt dagger as if it were poison—knowing Sarith, it likely had at least some residue—before giving in and tucking the blade into the braided belt at his waist. Better to have it than not. Even if it was given to him by a supposed murderer.

"Eldeth and I can run you through the basics of defense," Balasar offered. "Once my hand is healed, of course. I don't think I'll be swinging a sword around for a day or two at least."

The shield dwarf snickered and said, "Why wait? I'm happy to pick up the slack while you wallow over that hand of yers." When lightning sparks shot out Balasar's nostrils at insinuating weakness, Eldeth fell over in a heap of laughter.

Shortly thereafter, a sudden commotion from the corner of the room caught everyone's attention. [2] Prince Derendil had been strolling about the chamber, examining the murals, when he stumbled over something near the foot of the sarcophagus. The prince looked down at his feet. Nothing. And yet, Derendil knew he had stubbed his toe on something. The intense throbbing on his right foot was a testament to it! Hesitantly, he probed the empty space again and felt resistance. And so it was that the companions accidentally discovered Brysis's invisible treasure horde.

There were many items inside the magically cloaked object, not that the adventurers could see them. The chest was eventually tipped over by Balasar and Derendil, and as its contents spilled out upon the ground, it became visible. Most of the horde was gold, but there were also several magical artifacts of note: a greater healing potion, a fist-sized dark blue gem, eleven smaller gemstones, three magical arrows, a set of spider-silk gloves, a necklace of bright red spheres, and a mysterious vial containing a glittery pinkish-red liquid. [3]

The discussion about splitting the treasure did not come until the following morning. Fargas was relieved that his strength returned after a long rest because the ensuing argument was uncomfortable and long. Everyone had points to debate. For example, Fargas and Nine were under contract by their mysterious employer. That had been made clear to the escaped prisoners from the get-go. But they would all be dead if not for Zelyra and Balasar's efforts. More importantly, not just dead, but undead and eternally bound to Brysis.

Ultimately, it was decided that Fargas and Nine could claim one-third of the gold and two zircon gemstones for their employer. The remaining gold and zircons were to be split equally amongst the party, minus Stool. Additionally, it was agreed that the magical items would be divvied out on loan as they could prove vital to the party's survival. Not even Fargas could deny that the Underdark was dangerous. However, the halfling clearly stressed that it was indeed a loan. Should they return to the surface together or reach a point where the party was to split ways, all magical items acquired from the tomb would be surrendered to Fargas and Nine.

This was the first time the party had seen their normally loquacious and friendly companion so stern. But, unfortunately, such was the nature of business. But when Fargas tried to broach the subject of Dawnbringer, and Balasar imparted that to her, the sentient sword quickly put an end to such thinking.

"Greedy halfling! Have you learned nothing? I am not some trinket to be frivolously given away or sold!" the sword shouted into Fargas's mind. The response came with such conviction that the halfling fell to the floor and sought to cover his ears. But Dawnbringer was not finished. "I was made to combat the darkness of this world! You would have to pry me from my wielder's cold, dying hand!"

And when Fargas timidly looked up at Balasar, the dragonborn's fierce expression confirmed that Dawnbringer was not up for negotiation.

"Ah, forgive me," the halfling hurriedly apologized. "It was only business."

In his head, Fargas heard a disinterested snort.

"So, where do we go from here?" Kazimir then asked the group.

"It would make the most sense to head for Gracklestugh," Fraeya answered. "We can trade for supplies and lie low for a while."

"Why would you need to lie low?" Nine said curiously.

The rogue cocked her head to the side and drawled, "That's rich, coming from you. Perhaps I should cite what you told me when I asked a similar question—that is not of your concern. Remember that?"

Before Nine could respond, Fargas interrupted, "I am also curious about that. You are a strange crowd. I wonder how it is you all found each other?"

The escaped prisoners exchanged wary glances out of the corners of their eyes. In truth, their prior imprisonment was not something to hide. But why should they share their tale when so much of Fargas and Nine's business was shrouded in shadow? Besides, there was always that creeping hint of doubt in their minds. Ilvara hunted them. And while they liked Fargas well enough and did not think he would purposely betray them or sell them out, it would be foolish to ignore the possibility. And his ranger companion was a whole different story. In the end, could she be trusted?

Always watch for the knife coming at your back. Never, for any moment, let down your guard. Such was the way of the drow. And the surface dwellers were slowly coming to understand that as well.

"Why should we tell our secrets when you've revealed none of yours?" Kazimir countered to steer away from the uncomfortable question.

"I've told you many secrets!" the halfling exclaimed. "I'm practically an open book!"

"But she's not," the tiefling said, pointing at Nine.

The half-elf scowled.

"All I want is your true name," Kazimir said, and in those seemingly innocent words, he risked a bit of magic by adding a boost of suggestion. But, unfortunately, it was not to be. Though Nine was not a full elf, she still had the inherent fey ancestry of one and was resistant to such charms.

The ranger's instincts were sharp, and she knew exactly what the wizard had just attempted. Her eyes narrowed. "Did you just try to magic the answer out of me?"

"No," the wizard said mischievously.

"I will remember that," Nine promised.

. . .

The party was on their way shortly after, and all except Fargas were happy to put the lost tomb behind them. But none was gladder to be rid of it than Dawnbringer, who at long last was free of the dark and able to discover the delights of the road through her new bearer. So back up the narrow passageway, the party trekked until they returned to the mysterious four-way that was not on the map.

What met them at that crisscrossing junction of tunnels instantly put the escaped prisoners of Velkynvelve on edge, for a lone drow awaited them. Not just any drow, but one of Ilvara Mizzrym's scouts. The cloak and armor style combination was unmistakable as it was identical to the stolen gear that Sarith currently wore. And yet, the escaped prisoners knew this drow was not a threat.

They were dead, very dead.

It was a chilling reminder of the body the adventurers had stumbled upon days before, the bandit captain's son. But this killing was…beyond that and so much more.

Zelyra leaned over and promptly vomited up her breakfast of ripplebark at poor Prince Derendil's feet. He gently patted her back as she continued to retch, and not for the first time, the druid cursed her enhanced sense of smell. But, there was no holding back her stomach this time. The reek of decay was too intense. They had only been inside the tomb for a day, yet it was clear that this body had been dead for far longer. It was swollen, bloated, and unceremoniously strung by its entrails on a tall stalagmite. There was no head. And yet, the most disturbing aspect was not even on the body itself but burned into the ground before it. The symbol was crude and rudimentarily done, but the best the adventurers could make out…it was a four-horned goat head.

"What is that—what is that?!" Fargas repeatedly cried out in a panic.

Sarith's face was grim as he knelt to examine the symbol. "I believe that is the mark of Orcus," he said.

"Orcus?" Balasar asked.

"The Demon Prince of Undeath," Fraeya quickly clarified for those who did not immediately recognize the name. "But why would his symbol be here on this body?" she pondered.

"It might have something to do with Demogorgon's attack on Sloobludop," Sarith said. "Maybe that triggered a response from a rival cult. The demon lords hate each other above all else."

And there it was. For the first time, the adventurers could put a name to the abysmal horror that razed Sloobludop, for it was Sarith alone who had recognized the Prince of Demons. Until then, the others had only guessed or made assumptions.

Kazimir now understood why the damned brand on his hand had burned that day. A demon prince would catch Her interest.

"You did this!" the tiefling was quick to accuse, pointing his finger at Sarith.

But Zelyra came to the drow's defense, and it pained her greatly to do so, for that had been her first thought too. "No, it couldn't have. He was with us," she said.

"Maybe he has nothing to do with the attack on Sloobludop but this? He's been accused of murder! He knows the demon lords' names, their symbols! He crawled through the hole in the door alone. You weren't there—" Kazimir spiraled.

Zelyra's face flushed at the memory. "I'm the one who broke down the door. I just…you didn't see me because I experienced a backlash of wild magic when I called upon the faerzress to help me," she admitted.

As Zelyra and Kazimir stubbornly argued over his innocence, Sarith's hands silently moved in Drow Sign. And Fraeya was not ignorant to it.

"I have no memory of committing either killing. Trust I am speaking the truth."

"Trust is not the way of the drow," the rogue's hands danced in reply.

Sarith's mouth quirked just ever so slightly.

"The faerzress turned Zelyra into a potted plant," the warrior divulged aloud, and it was perhaps the closest his companions had seen him to showing amusement. But in truth, it was a front. Fraeya's response had almost humored him. Meanwhile, he signed, "I will explain." Then, when the rogue cocked her head with interest, he clarified, "Not now. In Gracklestugh, when we can speak without so many prying ears."

"My point is, I was with Sarith in the stairwell the entire time you all were battling Brysis. And before that, you yourselves were with him. He did not do this," the druid continued, oblivious to the dark elves' silent conversation.

"What if he paid someone to do it?" Kazimir said.

Fraeya rolled her eyes. "If you are to accuse someone based on their knowledge of demons, then you and I should also be suspect," she cut in, glaring at the tiefling pointedly. "Drow are no strangers to the Abyss. After all, are we not neighbors? The Underdark is merely a barrier. But wasn't it you, Kazimir, who suggested that a greater demon attacked Sloobludop? I believe your exact words were: you could sense it?"

"I could sense it," Kazimir maintained. "But I couldn't put a name to it."

"Okay! No one here could have done this. So, our greater concern is, if not one of us, who?" Balasar roared. "As Sarith suggested, what if the event in Sloobludop triggered rival cults?"

The adventurers looked again at the mutilated drow scout, though it deeply unnerved them. Was it a coincidence that they had just come from a tomb filled with undead, only to find a ritualistic killing in the name of the Demon Prince of Undeath? It seemed highly unlikely, and yet, what other logical explanation was there? Had a follower of Orcus been shadowing their steps the entire time? Had that individual made it to the tomb first and left them a message?

They had not checked for signs of foot traffic when they passed through the junction the day before. But at present, fresh tracks circled the body before continuing down the second tunnel on the left—the same direction the adventurers would soon be going.

"How long ago was Brysis turned into a wraith?" Balasar asked Dawnbringer.

But Dawnbringer could not answer that, for she had no concept of the passing of time. The sentient sword could only retain that which her bearer imparted to her. And it had been such a long time since she had a living, breathing bearer. The adventurers could then only conclude that Balasar's question and many others would have to remain a mystery. It was time to move on.

"It feels wrong to leave them like that," Zelyra whispered, surprising even herself that she could feel such compassion for their enemy. She added, "But not even I think I could stomach handling the body."

"Then leave it we must," Eldeth said. "Because I can't either."

Everyone else similarly agreed. There were some things that, even in the name of respect, were too unpleasant. And so, the adventurers left the mutilated body where it was and were on their way to Gracklestugh with more questions plaguing them than answers.

According to the map, it would take at least a tenday of travel to reach the duergar city. This time, Nine chose to walk at the back of the group and let Fraeya lead alongside Fargas. Kazimir took possession of the map and acted as navigator, much to the rogue's annoyance. The halfling and the wizard spent far too much time chatting for her liking. She preferred a silent hike.

Fortunately, the first half of that tenday passed without incident. But on the fifth day, the terrain began to drastically change. The temperature became hot, sticky, and stifling. An increased presence of fire lichen, a fungus that thrived in geothermal heat regions, was an omen of what was to come. Streams and pools of roiling magma soon became commonplace. The adventurers' every breath took acrid fumes into their lungs and triggered violent coughing fits. After less than an hour or two of enduring those fits, the party fashioned long strips of cloth to tie around their mouths. It helped somewhat.

But then the party came across an unavoidable obstacle, a river of magma that stretched eight feet wide and blocked their path forward on either side. They stopped and examined the stream with trepidation. The magma bubbled and roiled. It popped and cracked. And the only way to cross it was a few jutting rocks that could function as footholds to leap across. It was feasible, but if one jumped and missed a rock…

Kazimir volunteered to be the first to attempt the crossing as his infernal heritage gave him a natural resistance to fire. The tiefling boldly made the decision to carry Stool across as well. All was fine until he reached the final rock. His foot slipped, and Kazimir tossed Stool in a panic. The myconid sprout soared through the air and crashed into the opposite bank, clear of the magma. But Kazimir was not so fortunate. His left boot dipped straight into the lava.

It took a moment for the pain to register; such was his shock. And in fact, the tiefling still hopped from the last stone to join Stool to the other side. But then he dropped to the ground, roaring in pain. His left boot was melted entirely, and the leather material now fused to his skin.

"Kaz! Are you okay?!" Zelyra shouted in a panic.

The only response she received was loud Infernal curses—an obvious no.

The druid frantically riffled through the pouch at her side, pulled out a tiny tin of honey, and shoved it into Fraeya's hands. She told the rogue, "You can cross the pit faster than I can. Put aside whatever rivalry you have and help him!"

When Fraeya stared at her, almost uncomprehendingly, Zelyra urgently repeated the charge.

"Why me? I'm not a healer!" the rogue sputtered.

"You don't have to be! Carefully—" the druid was clear to stress the word, "—pour water from your waterskin onto the burn and then apply that poultice to any broken blisters until Nine or I can get across. Hurry!" the druid counseled.

"I'll go after her and do what I can until you cross," Nine volunteered.

Once again, Zelyra was taken aback by the ranger's sudden willingness to help. It seemed her acts of selfless goodwill came once in a dozen.

Fraeya seemingly danced across the rocks with ease. Nine was hot on her heels. The ranger and the rogue dropped down on either side of the injured tiefling and began to work. As Fraeya slowly poured water on the bubbling blisters, Nine simultaneously cast a healing spell upon them. A tiny green vine with blooms of borage wrapped around Kazimir's heel. It dampened the pain but could not erase it completely.

By the time Zelyra reached the trio, the tiefling's Infernal cursing had ceased. The druid's spectral vines of healing joined Nine's borage shortly after. Nine was then free to turn her attention to Stool. The sudden tossing had significantly injured the myconid sprout but undoubtedly saved their life.

The others crossed the magma pit slowly and without incident. They then gathered around their injured companions, with the one exception of Sarith. The drow warrior's crimson gaze was locked dead ahead of the party on a figure that the others had not noticed. Sarith slowly reached for his crossbow. Fortunately, the individual either did not seem to see them or simply didn't care. They were some hundred feet away, just at the cusp of Sarith's darkvision, quietly picking through a patch of fire lichen.

"Isn't it ironic that you're resistant to fire and the only one to fall into the magma?" Fraeya told the wizard.

For once, Kazimir did not respond sarcastically to her goading. Instead, he laughed and said, "You say that as if it's a bad thing, but it probably would've been much worse if it had been someone other than me."

"I have no doubt," the rogue agreed.

"Thanks for the quick response, ladies," the tiefling said.

Fraeya and Nine both nodded in acknowledgment. Their pride prevented them from making the moment more sentimental than necessary. But Zelyra placed a hand on Kazimir's shoulder and said, "I'm glad you're okay. Between your resistance, our healing spells, and the quick field dressing, you should be able to walk on it with minimal pain. We'll need to wrap something around your ruined boot, though."

The wizard grinned and held up a single finger. Then with a wave of his other hand, the melted leather material stretched and reformed, mending back into an impeccable pointed boot.

"Or there's that," the druid giggled.

"Sorry to interrupt your magic show, but we've got company," Sarith drawled then. The party looked in the direction he pointed, but only Fraeya and Prince Derendil had dark vision keen enough to distinguish the figure. The others only saw a vague outline.

"Shuushar?" Prince Derendil said in disbelief.

"He survived?" Fraeya exclaimed.

Zelyra shook her head. "Surely, you're mistaken. We saw—"

But it was too late. Balasar blindly charged forward at the mere mention of his friend's name. His companions were quick to follow.

As they neared, however, the party realized that it was not Shuushar and quickly relayed that to Balasar. Instead, this unfamiliar kuo-toa wore an elaborate stone necklace of runic carvings and carried a hooked staff. The adventurers slowed their pace but hesitantly advanced. Kuo-toa were known to be hostile, and even though this one was alone, it was prudent to be mindful of that. Because it was too late to turn back. In the commotion, the kuo-toa had paused their task and was now staring at them.

"Greetings, stranger! Pardon our hasty approach. We mistook you for someone we know. We mean no harm unless you wish us harm!" Kazimir called out as the party closed in. But the kuo-toa merely blinked, not understanding.

Balasar quickly repeated the phrase in Undercommon.

"Oh, that is quite alright. If you don't mind me asking, who is it you are looking for? It is not often that individuals such as yourselves seek out one of my kind," the stranger replied, surprising all who knew Undercommon with his clear articulacy. Kuo-toan's were often challenging to understand as they spoke in bubbling, gargled tones. This kuo-toa's voice was different, though. Clear and confident, it held a wealth of intelligence and a telling sign of long-windedness.

"His name was Shuushar," Balasar answered.

"Was?" the kuo-toa echoed, not missing the past tense wording.

Balasar nodded. "A false hope on our part. We're almost certain he perished in the recent obliteration of his village," he said.

The kuo-toa's ocher eyes widened further. "We must have a conversation! News of such destruction has not yet reached my ears nor the minds of my fellow society members. Please tell me all that you know!" When Balasar hesitated, the kuo-toa continued, "I realize that such a request might sound peculiar from a stranger, but I do not have ill intent. I must assume the obliteration of which you speak originated in Sloobludop, yes? These questions come from a selfish place. Sloobludop is my birthplace, and as such, I knew Shuushar quite well. He was one of the few… I considered him a good friend. Oh! Forgive me. Perhaps I should have first introduced myself! My name is Archpriest Sloopidoop. Four other intelligent fellows and I have formed the Society of Brilliance. We are but five outcasts of ill-stereotyped races who have dedicated our lives to solving the Underdark's problems and making it a more hospitable place," he finished proudly.

Fraeya outwardly snorted at that last bit and exchanged a sly glance with Sarith. The drow elves knew that making the Underdark a hospitable place was a hopeless endeavor. Corruption and madness ran too deep.

"Bet you all wish you know Undercommon now, don't you?" Fargas teased Kazimir, Zelyra, and Eldeth.

"And you do?" Zelyra asked.

The halfling's grin was smug as he said, "Sure I do! As does my dear ranger!"

Sloopidoop had given those who could understand him a great deal of information to absorb, but Balasar thought he caught the gist. The dragonborn quickly apologized, "Sorry to have unknowingly dumped that bad news on you." He then filled the archpriest in on Demogorgon's devastating attack of Sloobludop, now sixteen days past.

By the time the dragonborn finished, Sloopidoop's shoulders were slumped in utter dismay. "You all witnessed the demon lord's attack?" he asked.

"And lost two of our companions in the process," Fraeya spoke up.

"A drow—no, two drow! Traveling cooperatively amongst surface dwellers. How peculiar," the archpriest muttered to himself. His bulging, ever-darting eyes focused independently on Fraeya and Sarith.

Fraeya shrugged her shoulders.

Sarith offered no opinion. He was more concerned with keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings. Fortunately, he was not alone. Nine was being vigilant as well.

"For both the troubles you endured in my former home and the kindness you showed to my dear friend, I owe you a debt." Sloopidoop reached into the satchel he had previously been stuffing fire lichen into and revealed a spell scroll. He looked about the group with a keen eye before ultimately settling upon Kazimir. "Should you need my aid, you may summon me with this scroll. I will not be of use to you in battle, but I might assist if something most ill befalls one of your companions," the archpriest said.

Fargas translated the instruction to Kazimir. The wizard then nodded to show he understood and accepted the unexpected boon.

The archpriest then asked, "And I must ask, for mere curiosities sake…were one of you injured earlier? I heard such dreadful Infernal curses! And something about someone's foot being on fire? I ignored it, of course, because even I am not brave enough to engage a party your size alone."

Fargas snickered and elbowed Kazimir, knowing the tiefling couldn't understand the archpriest's words. "He heard you cursing and crying about your foot and ignored it," he said. And then, in Undercommon, the halfling added, "You'll have to excuse him. Our half-devil friend here took a dip in the lava."

"Oh my! And he stands?" Sloopidoop exclaimed.

"Our druid and ranger healed him," Fargas said. "Plus, you know, infernal constitution! I think he was more concerned about his melted boot."

The archpriest nodded. "Excellent! If he is healed and you need me no further,I must take my leave. The relay of this important news cannot delay! If it is as you say and Demogorgon has been unleashed from the Abyss, the status quo of the Underdark will soon be upheaved!" Sloopidoop cried. In his next breath, the archpriest snapped his fingers and disappeared in a ripple of teleportation magic.

"That was not the encounter I expected," Balasar said when the priest was gone.

Kazimir shook his head and said, "I understood none of that."

Zelyra and Eldeth nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss much. At least we got something good out of it," Fraeya drawled. "He could have been insane and attacked us. Or been a follower of Demogorgon."

"Or Orcus," Zelyra added, grimly reminding everyone of the mutilated body they'd left behind five days prior.

. . .

Another five days of travel passed for the adventurers with only minor setbacks. At one point, the characters came across an exotic fungus called tongue of madness. Fraeya silently conveyed the idea of convincing one of the surface dwellers to eat it to Sarith via Drow Sign but the drow warrior's quick response of, 'Do not, for the sake of our sanity!' had her thinking better of it. Tongue of madness could cause an individual to speak their every thought aloud for an hour—which in the case of some party members could prove very annoying.

The group was later forced to walk along a narrow ledge that skirted a 300 feet deep ravine. As a precaution, the companions roped together. No one wanted to take an unexpected plunge. But for their caution and slow pace, Kazimir surmised that it would take an additional day to reach their destination, bringing their total travel time to Gracklestugh to eleven days.

The party's luck turned on that eleventh day, so very close to their destination, as all too familiar tremors began to shake the stone.

"Please don't be a worm. Please don't be a worm. Please don't be a worm," Kazimir muttered to himself.

"A worm?" Fargas asked loudly. "Why would we be afraid of a worm?"

Fraeya urgently shushed them. "Not just any worm, Fargas—a tunnel eater. And if it is, you don't want to call it to us," she hissed quietly.

The rogue looked to the back of the line and signaled Sarith to be on alert for a cave-in. But the action was unneeded. The warrior was already vigilantly watching the stone above them. He had not forgotten what happened the last time they had experienced such tremors.

Then came a quake so violent that it forced the party to a standstill. The escaped prisoners instinctively covered their heads. Eldeth threw up her shield. Prince Derendil wrapped Stool protectively up in one arm and pulled Zelyra to him with the other. But this time, the danger lay elsewhere. The party was so concerned with the rock above them that they failed to notice spidering cracks forming beneath their feet.

Yet another rumble came, and the floor abruptly gave way. At the back of the line, Sarith and Nine dove for something—anything—to hold on to. At the front, Fraeya and Fargas reacted similarly. But it did not matter. The entire party fell into pure darkness, to a place that had not seen the light or the living for many a century.

When they landed, it was not upon solid ground. Immediately came a series of sickening crunches and cracks. Some feared they had fallen upon and crushed their fellow party members. For others, scattered objects poked and prodded into their backs or sides, depending on how they fell. Some of those items felt smooth and cool to the touch, while others were metallic and quite sharp.

It was unclear precisely what kind of space the group found themselves in, for the cavern was dark as pitch and the air stale as it had not been disturbed for many a year. There was no wind, no light. There was no sign of life. Not even in the form of phosphorus fungi or lichen to faintly illuminate the space as the adventurers were so accustomed to. This place was barren and cold. [4]

Dawnbringer flared and bathed the immediate space in bright light. Fraeya and Sarith recoiled from it in agony, for it was pure sunlight, something their sensitive eyes were wholly unaccustomed to. When Dawnbringer read Balasar's thoughts and understood how it harmed two of her bearer's companions, the light just as abruptly extinguished. The space darkened once more.

"It was a reflex. I spent too long in the dark," Dawnbringer apologized to the party.

Kazimir was the first to come to his senses and threw up his luminous dancing lights. To his surprise, Fraeya and Sarith followed his lead, utilizing their innate drow magic for the first time since the wizard met them. Sarith's orbs burned like purple flames while Fraeya's better resembled flickering stars. Kazimir would have been mesmerized by their beauty had a panicked shout from Fargas not taken precedence.

"Bones?!" the halfling exclaimed.

"Not another tomb!" was Balasar's immediate reply.

"Not a tomb, a graveyard," Zelyra corrected as she jumped to her feet and began dusting off her person.

Because it wasn't just random bones. It was hundreds. Thousands. In fact, the majority were full, intact humanoid skeletons of two distinct types. One was small and thin, while the other appeared only slightly taller but noticeably thicker boned. There was also an array of armor, hammers, axes, daggers, pikes, and shields, all rusted beyond repair. It was hard not to imagine an old battlefield then. And it seemed endless, going on and on past where the dancing lights could touch.

Eldeth knelt beside one of the larger skeletons that still bore a war hammer in its lifeless hand and said, "This looks dwarven and yet…not."

"That's because it's a duergar," Sarith said. The drow then pointed to the smaller remains and added, "And that is a derro." He then briefly explained, as was Sarith's way, that the derro had long ago waged a doomed war against the Deepkingdom. The revolt was swiftly crushed by the might of the duergar, and any surviving derro were brought back to Gracklestugh as slaves.

"If this is the site of one of their battles, then we must be close to the city," Kazimir said. He looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling so very high above them and then down at the map in dismay before adding, "I don't think this will be of any help now."

"Why?" Fraeya asked.

Kazimir replied, "Because there is no way we're getting back up there."

"What about a rope?" Eldeth suggested.

"And what? Is the rope going to magically levitate and tie itself off at the top?" the wizard asked sarcastically.

The shield dwarf shrugged. "I thought ye might have some sort of spell for that."

Kazimir shook his head. He did not. Zelyra then confirmed that she didn't either. She'd expended her beast-shaping magic earlier that day to cross rugged terrain.

"We'll forge a new path then. This is so exciting!" Fargas said, rubbing his hands together. "Maybe we'll find some treasure!"

"Is that truly all you care about?" Balasar asked.

Fargas shrugged. "What? I like oddities."

The adventurers began their trek. Fraeya and Sarith extinguished all but one or two of their dancing lights, letting Kazimir's pale blue orbs act as their primary light source. In this case, even the drow could not argue that light was necessary. One could not move anywhere about the cavern without weaving around a skeleton, stepping on a random thigh bone, or stumbling over a busted shield. It took the group many hours to cross the expanse as Fargas was, unsurprisingly, keen on searching for anything of note. But there was nothing except an old coin that Kazimir scooped up before the halfling saw it.

At last, they reached an end where a very short tunnel connected to another open chamber. Light flickered from within, bright torch light. And faintly drifting outward was a strange cadence that resembled the drone of ocean waves mingled with a swarm of stinging insects. This was not a mere sound. It was language!

The speech of the lower planes was understood by none of the adventurers but Kazimir. His eyes widened as he internally translated some of the words. The tiefling then extinguished his dancing lights and signaled for the party to halt.

They were not alone.

[1] As per the manual, "Dawnbringer can speak, read, and understand Common, and can communicate with her wielder telepathically. Her voice is kind and feminine. It knows every language you know while you're attuned to it." So, while it doesn't explicitly say that she can extend that telepathy to others, I see no reason why she can't. She's already been shown to reach out to the entire party to show them the tomb. That is per the module. Why would after she's attuned to a bearer be any different? Plus, it gives me an excuse to bring her into the narrative more.

[2] My grammar tool alerted me that the word 'thereafter' might be considered 'archaic' vocabulary and suggested rewording. I kept it out of spite.

[3] We rolled a natural 20 to find the invisible chest. Thus, DM/husband threw in a few extra goodies. The counterbalance to our party receiving those additional items meant that some magical items normally found in the Gracklestugh part of OOTA were not included in our game. The chest contained 4000SP, 1200GP, a potion of greater healing, an elemental gem (blue sapphire), eleven zircons, three flame arrows, gloves of missile snaring, a necklace of fireballs, and a philter of love. I didn't feel like droning on for three additional paragraphs about who got what, so here is how the loot was divvied:

1333 SP, 400GP, 2 zircons set aside for Fargas/Nine's employer

2666SP, 800GP, 9 zircons split 9 ways for 296SP, 89GP, 1 zircon per party member

gloves of missile snaring (Zelyra)

necklace of fireballs (Fraeya)

three flame arrows (Nine)

philter of love, air elemental gem (Kazimir)

potion of greater healing (Fargas)

And, of course, Balasar currently wields Dawnbringer.

It was agreed in the scenario that a) the party escapes the Underdark or b) the party splits ways from Fargas while in the Underdark, all magical items that have not been expended (i.e., potions) be surrendered to Fargas to fulfill his exploration contract. Dawnbringer was the exception, as the sword made it clear she had no intention of abiding by that.

[4] As a side note, we're lucky no one got impaled here.

Sorry, I know this was long. Lots of little encounters in this chapter, but they are a setup for the next leg of our journey. I'm so excited to get to Gracklestugh! (I know I say this for every story arc, but…) We will diverge from the module into some revised content while the party explores the City of Blades. I might get to surprise some of you for a change! I, of course, say this because all readers I actively interact with are either players or DMs of OOTA itself, or they have read the module or other stories based on it!

One year ago we concluded the Out of the Abyss campaign. One year ago, I began writing this monster! And look, we haven't even made it to chapter four of the module yet, LOL. Crazy how time flies. Thank you all so much for reading.

And *huge* thank you to both 'Kaz' and DM/husband for not only reading my work but for bringing these characters to life in the first place!