The Shadowdusk Mausoleum
It had surprised Aleina that the City of the Dead was not entirely dark at night. Not long after the gates shut behind them and the sun had set, sconces at the corners of the tiled roof of one of the grander nearby tombs had flickered to life with magical flame while a brazier set before the mausoleum's entrance did the same. The fires were large enough for the aasimar to feel the kiss of heat on her cheek as she stared. Following that, a line of torches ignited in the distance up the spiraling steps of the tall, marble, tower-like structure near the center of the cemetery topped by the carved sculpture of a bearded, robed wizard facing westward with hands outstretched towards the city.
Aleina had regretted expressing her amazement and wonder at seeing that as Sir Ambrose Everdawn then took them to see the statue of Ahghairon - further insisting they climb up each and every torchlit step to get a closer look at the incredibly lifelike, smiling carved features of the first Open Lord of Waterdeep. Which would have been appreciated more if the aasimar hadn't hiked up and down Mount Waterdeep earlier and hadn't participated in a hermit monk's masochistic daily regimen. Her legs had ached both on the way up and on the way down.
But most of the great graveyard lay in darkness, lit only by the moon and stars on a cloudless night like tonight. Aleina's vision, as she now walked the gravel paths with the others, was a mix of normal and dark vision. Though normal was a relative term and, during her time in the Underdark, her heightened sight in darkness had actually been the one more commonly used. This mixed vision gave the headstones, worn statues, urns, and mausoleums made of marble a pale glow. In contrast, things made of granite appeared shadowy black with a limning of ethereal light. The cemetery, under these conditions, was beautiful, hauntingly so with the snaking tendrils of pale mist running in places along the ground, and the crunch of their booted footsteps sounded eerie against the surrounding silence. It put Aleina in both a morbid and reverent mood, thinking thoughts on mortality and the fleeting nature of life.
"Death is but part of life," JB Nevercott said, reading the weather worn carved script on a stone monument wall they passed. "Fear it not, evade it not, and view it not as evil."
The haberdasher laughed and shook his head, which set the blue feather on his maroon hat waving.
"The preachings of Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead," Sir Ambrose Everdawn said. "Graveyards like the City of the Dead are sanctified places where those who have passed on are laid to their eternal rest. Such areas are as sacred to him as any house of his worship. More so."
The old man's tone gently chided. Not surprising as the etched picture above the words on the stone monument, balanced scales held up by a skeletal hand - the symbol of Kelemvor - also was engraved on the gray metal breastplate of the knight.
"Well, I disagree with all of it," Nevercott said. "Death is like a dark malicious bitch of a seductress. And trust me when I say that I've known plenty of them in my time."
For some reason he favored Jhelnae with a wink and a smile. She sighed and rolled her eyes at Aleina.
"Flirt with her, dice with her, and dance with her all you want," the haberdasher continued. "But her embrace? Fear it, evade it, and think of it as the most dire of all evils. Because death is a cold, jealous, and very very humorless mistress. Or so I've been told."
"So you've been told?" the half-drow asked. "By all that dances, that makes no sense. Unless people died and came back just to tell you what it is like to be dead and shared the oh so insightful revelation that death is humorless."
"If by people you mean an old comrade and a sister, then that is precisely what happened," Nevercott said. "They aren't too talkative about their experience, so I've had to infer. Humor was neither of their strong points in the first place. Let me assure you, dying and coming back to life did not improve that quality in either of them. Especially in my sister."
"Your sister died and came back to life?" Jhelnae asked, raising an eyebrow. But she then shook her head. "You know what, forget I asked."
Earlier in the evening, the half-drow might have been intrigued by the haberdasher's claim. Earlier Aleina herself would be curious. But this was their third circuit of the graveyard and Nevercott had already subjected them to plenty of his tall tales of his past or prowess. He'd told them, for instance, of his mastery in the art of dual wielding scimitars but, not having such weapons on his person to prove his claim, felt the need to put on a demonstration of his skill with the blades he did possess.
A pair of fabric shears.
"Are you sure?" the haberdasher asked. "The story of her death and resurrection is a fascinating tale."
"Absolutely sure," Jhelnae assured.
"Very well then," Nevercott said, with a sketch of a bow as they walked. "It is forgotten you asked. What were we talking about again?"
"The importance of silence on a patrol so we can listen," the half-drow said.
The haberdasher smirked in response, but surprisingly did stay quiet. They were in the southwest portion of the graveyard and Sir Ambrose Everdawn, following some patrol plan in his mind, silently chose a different path northward than they'd taken before. Their footsteps crunched along the gravel path and soon Aleina could faintly hear the babble of water as it gushed from the wounds of the troll, orc, hobgoblin, and bugbears statues of the Warriors' Monument fountain from somewhere to the northeast in the cemetery. The spiral of flaming torches up to the tower base of the sculpture of Ahghairon stood as a backdrop above the tombs and grave sites further to the north.
The aasimar yawned into the back of her hand. Not for the first time she wondered if this would be a wasted evening. They'd seen no sign of the missing friends of Sophraea Carver-Bone or anything suspicious that might be the cause of their disappearance.
"We need Sky," Jhelnae said, giving voice to Aleina's thoughts. "She'd talk to that winged statue over there and we'd all think her crazy. Then it would animate and tell us Briarsting and his topiary dragon friend were in a dragon ante tournament in one of the tombs with fellow graveyard guardians and there was nothing to worry about. After which, we could knock on one of the gates, get the Watch to let us out, and all go home to our beds."
"Ahhh…" Sir Ambrose said.
"What does 'ahhh…' mean," the half-drow asked.
"I think the good Sir Ambrose is trying to work up the courage to tell you the Watch will not be opening the gate," Nevercott said. "Even if everything worked out just as you said, we're here in the City of the Dead till sunrise."
An apologetic shrug of armored shoulders of the old knight confirmed it.
"Oh, by all that dances," Jhelnae groaned.
Aleina blew out a heavy sigh and her shoulders slumped. Although, in the back of her mind, she realized she could conjure her wings and fly out and carry the half-drow with her. Which would be rude to Ambrose and Nevercott. But oh so tempting.
"I'm guessing you ladies came unprepared," the haberdasher said. "Do not fear, magical spells of warmth and enlargement are woven into my cape."
He waved to the gold half-cape on his back that only came down to his waist.
"It can be stretched to accommodate three," he continued. "Sir Ambrose, no doubt, will want to stay on watch all night. Once we have finished whatever we need to do we can pass the evening pleasantly, even pleasurably, on the stone balcony at the top of the steps under the statue of Ahghairon and take in the view of the dawning sun in the morning. Unless the rumors are true of drow burning away to ash from sunlight. Then she'll have to pass on the last part."
Jhelnae gave a mirthless laugh.
"I'll pass on the whole thing," she said. "My friend and I would rather spend the night warming ourselves at one of the braziers in front of one of the mausoleums instead."
"Am I understand you'd rather spend the evening standing?" the haberdasher asked. "Huddled next to a fire. Jumping in fear every time the wind moans through a pillared portico. Rather than share a blanket with me?"
"No," the half-drow said. "You are to understand that I'd rather spend the evening standing over my wounded and fallen friend, fighting a horde of putrid, rotting, and nauseating zombies all night."
"Wait a moment," Aleina interrupted, brow wrinkling. "Why am I fallen and wounded in this scenario?"
"Trying to make a point," Jhelnae said, holding up a finger to the aasimar. "Let me finish."
She focused again on Nevercott.
"Then share a blanket with you," she finished.
"Normally I would feel honor bound to chastise you for your insinuations on the virtues of these fine gentlewomen who, out of their goodness of heart, have volunteered to help in this venture," Sir Ambrose said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "But I feel the lady has successfully accomplished that on her own."
"Oh, on that we are in complete agreement, sir," the haberdasher said, though he did not seem chastised in the least. In fact he chuckled and amusement shone in his deep blue, almost purple eyes. "I shall take your colorful and imaginative rebuke as a sign of your disinterest and willingly give up my magic cape at the conclusions of this evening's patrols and keep look out with Ambrose for any dangers while you two share in its warmth."
"That is very gentlemanly of you, sir," Aleina said. "We thank you."
"Never a gentleman," Nevercott scoffed. "A scoundrel through and through, I assure you. The Waterdeep Wazoo has put out rumors of the Runaway Aasimar Bride and her dark elf 'friend'. I plan on watching to see if those rumors are true while you share that blanket and maybe get a salacious, vicarious, little thrill."
Aleina's eyes widened and, due to surprise at what the haberdasher said and the expression on his face, she laughed
"Ah, a sense of humor," Nevercott said, pointing. "Clearly you have not died and come back to life then. Therefore, you are not likely to be a disguised undead and I can eliminate you as a suspect in whatever is going on in the City of the Dead."
The aasimar laughed harder.
"This is a sign my friend desperately needs sleep," Jhelnae said, looking at Sir Ambrose. "She is so tired she is actually laughing at his antics."
The old knight made no answer, but the hint of a smile on his lips broadened.
"Your drow companion on the other hand," the haberdasher said in an overly loud conspiratorial whisper to the aasimar. "No sense of humor at all. Probably undead."
"Oh, she can be very funny," Aleina said, laughter trailing off. "But we've had a very long day."
"Very long, very painful day, that I'm still sore from," the half-drow said.
"And now we are in the midst of a very long night," the aasimar continued. "She isn't in the mood to be teased right now. I wasn't either, but you caught me off guard."
Her brow furrowed in thought and she turned towards Sir Ambrose.
"Why are the gates locked up tight at sundown?" Aleina asked. "Waterdhavians come here and picnic during the day but it is off limits at night? It is a bit creepy at night, but beautiful as well. And watching the sun rise from the base of the statue of Ahghairon, like Nevercott suggested, sounds appealing. Even if I would prefer doing it with someone else. No offense."
She gave the haberdasher an apologetic shrug at the last part.
"None taken," Nevercott assured. "The list of beings I would prefer to be with over my present company is innumerable."
"That is fair I suppose," the aasimar said with a nod.
"Well, that's a bit insulting," the half-drow said at the same time.
"To answer your question," the old knight said. "The City of the Dead has always only been open to the public in daylight hours. There are a lot of burials and interments here as you can see."
He made a sweeping gesture to indicate their surroundings as they passed under an archway in the remains of a wall. It must be old. From the civilization from before the founding of the city of Waterdeep even. Sir Ambrose had explained earlier that Sophraea's family, the Carvers, maintained stonework in the cemetery and had taken the responsibility very seriously for generations. So, the ruined wall must have been built before their time in the graveyard.
"And what we see is only a portion of the graveyard," the old knight said. "Even back in Ahghairon's time the place was getting crowded and with fewer and fewer plots available. It was the first Open Lord himself who started the tradition of linking tombs to extra dimensional spaces to let the City of the Dead continue growing."
"Hold on," Jhelnae asked, stopping, which brought the others to a halt around her. "Are you saying a building like that has a portal inside it to another dimension?"
She pointed to a large mausoleum off the gravel path with granite walls and both a dome shaped roof over the main portion of the building and a pitched slate roof over the porch like area supported by pillars. A bronze coated door, green with age, was inset deep in the porch. A large sculpted torch angled out from the peak of the triangular roof above the entrance, seemingly meant to ignite and flame at sunset, like at other tombs, but the end was cold and dark. An inscription in the granite under the carved torch read, 'No secrets without truth.'
"It probably does," Sir Ambrose said. "Yet I shudder to think where its portal might lead. Most the portals lead to expansive spaces where even more dead can be interred. But that particular mausoleum belonged to the Shadowdusk family."
"There is a story there," the haberdasher said.
For once his tone was not flippant or mocking. Aleina glanced over and found Nevercott staring at the old knight with thoughtful curiosity. At that moment he looked like a different person, eyes showing a keen intelligence. It reminded her of someone, someone who she met during her time in Waterdeep, but she couldn't quite recall who.
"The Shadowdusks were a noble Waterdhavian family," the old knight said. "Much of their wealth came from successful expeditions deep into Undermountain. But it was rumored the treasure they uncovered down there also brought about their doom. Something put them into contact with the Far Realm and the entire family, it was claimed by broadsheets at the time, were replaced by aberrant horrors in human guise."
"Well that doesn't mean anything," the half-drow snorted. "Broadsheets say I tempted the Runaway Aasimar Bride away from her patriar marriage in Baldur's Gate. I've never even been to Baldur's Gate. We met in…hey!"
She glared at Aleina who had just prodded her with an elbow. The aasimar gave her a meaningful look and understanding dawned on Jhelnae's face. She had been about to share information they didn't want shared. It was unlikely Ilvara's reach extended as far as Waterdeep, but then again the companions had shadowed a trio of drow through the city not all that long ago. And the mistress of Velkynvelve had proven she was a stubborn, spiteful, vindictive bitch who had doggedly pursued them all through the Underdark. Who was to say she'd given up finding them? The half-drow firmly shut her mouth, sealing it behind pressed lips.
"There is a story there," Nevercott said, repeating his earlier phrase and watching with an appraising gaze.
"We met, we became friends, and now we are here in Waterdeep," Jhelnae said, warning against further inquiry with her expression. "The end. I think Sir Ambrose was telling us about the Shadowdusks before I interrupted him."
"Not much more to tell," the old knight said. "Their ancestral villa burned to the ground over a hundred years ago, killing all members of the family. Rumors and gossip say the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors were responsible and no one at the time complained."
They stood as a group in silence for a time, all staring at the dark mausoleum. It looked more forlorn and abandoned than other tombs, but the aasimar didn't know if that was because of the story she just heard or its actual appearance. The former, she decided. Like all the other stonework in the cemetery, this building was well maintained.
"Sorry," Sir Ambrose said. "You happened to pick the mausoleum of a family with a dark history. The point is, with all the dead here, both physically and extra dimensionally, this place is a vast well of potential necrotic energy which, as I understand it, the sun naturally dissipates. Sometimes that potential energy is tapped, either intentionally or not, and things rise. At times in the history of the city, en masse, but even singularly it is dangerous to Waterdhavians. Thus the wall and the rule of closing the gates at night."
"I get it," the aasimar said. "A stroll through the City of the Dead on a warm summer night might be pleasant for people. But it's not worth the risk."
"Essentially correct," the old knight said.
"The Shadowdusks were involved in the Far Realm?" Jhelnae asked, still looking at the nearby mausoleum of granite. "I've heard of it, but…"
She trailed off and it was Nevercott who answered her unspoken question.
"Hearing about it is more than enough," he said. "From what I can tell, most of the supposed learned scholars on the subject are mad. In most cases, more knowledge is better, but not with the Far Realm."
Aleina straightened and the others around her did the same, jumping slightly at a sound. The click of a lock followed by the rasp of something heavy being pushed across stone. They watched in amazed horror as the aged bronze door of the Shadowdusk mausoleum cracked open and proceeded to be pushed open further and further. Then long honed instincts born from facing dangers in the Underdark kicked in and the aasimar summoned her warding armor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pale, glowing, translucent webbing of Jhenae's also settle into place. Sir Ambrose put a hand on his sword and Nevercott raised one of his ridiculous fabric shears.
Further and further the door opened until, when there was enough space, two fairly ordinary looking men slipped out, both carrying shovels. Their eyes widened to find an audience watching their exit. For a time, the two groups stared at each other, then the two men sidled back inside the tomb and the door started sliding closed, grinding against the stone floor of the patio as it did. In a graceful motion, the haberdasher threw, and his shears went spinning to wedge into the crack of the doorway before the bronze portal could fully settle into place.
"I say," the old knight said. "That was a really amazing throw!"
"It really was," the half-drow said with a tone of surprised admiration.
"Just buying some time," Nevercott said. "Now, I believe we are here in this graveyard looking for something suspicious?"
All three around him nodded, minds still catching up with unfolding events.
"Does two workmen coming out of a tomb of a family thought long dead with supposed ties to the Far Realm in the middle of the night count as suspicious?" he asked.
"Pretty suspicious," Jhelnae agreed.
"Then I suggest we go force that door open before they realize they can open it slightly, let the shears drop, and seal us out," he said.
Not waiting for their answer, he ran to do as he said, the others following on his heels. Aleina's legs twinged in complaint at having to provide a sudden burst of speed.
"By all that dances," the half-drow muttered as she ran. "Why do I have to go tomb delving tonight? Why? When all this body wants is a hot bath."
Confession here...I don't have a full idea of where I'm going with this. Kuhl and Sky's upcoming adventures I pretty much have plotted out in my head. Aleina and Jhelnae will obviously enter those adventures at some point and the party will be reformed. But the original plan was that they would be explained away through shopping trips and bouts of binge reading. They, however, were not satisfied with that and insisted I have stuff for them to do rather than essentially wait in the wings for a dramatic entrance. See, as any reader who has made it this far knows, I considered Kuhl (my PC) the main character when I started this and Aleina and Jhelnae were the competing love interests. But as soon as I tried to find their voices they were both breaking the fourth wall and like, "What the F-? Let's get something straight. *We're* the main characters. Kuhl is a side character to *us*.
Therefore, they won't let me do things like push them to wait in the wings and therefore you are reading about their adventures that I am very much struggling to come up with! So I hope it is readable and enjoyable!
Also, JB Nevercott is an absolute *pain* to write. Hopefully I'm doing okay with him.