General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.
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City-of-Caverns
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Imoen's flaming arrow hit the ettin at the same time as Anomen's mace smashed into its already wounded leg. The forces combined were enough to fell it, and the priest wasted no time in finishing off their opponent to the rapturous cheering of the watching sahuagin.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his worried eyes looking over her form as he checked for injuries. She grinned slightly.
"I'm fine. You?"
He smiled warmly to her. "I am as fine as can be expected in this situation."
They drew apart slightly as King Ixilthetocal lumbered over to them. "Congratulations, my wondrous little humans! You are, indeed, a mighty specimen... and the one sent to us by Sekolah, I might add."
"No!" shrieked Baron Thelokassyil. "Most exalted Ixilthetocal, you cannot be serious!"
"Oh, stop complaining, Baron," chuckled the king. "So your High Priestess lost the challenge, that's too bad. There's no need to go on whining about it. Time to take her away for sacrifice! Try not to get caught in Sekolah's teeth, Tlyysixxous. I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it."
"I... I see," stammered Tlyysixxous. "Of course, most exalted Ixilthetocal." Several of the sahuagin guards surrounded the priestess and escorted her away from the arena. She threw one last glance to the Baron before she disappeared from view and he slumped visibly at her departure.
"Ah. Now that that little dispute is over with, perhaps we can get down to real business, eh?" asked Ixilthetocal. "Are you bitter, Thelokassyil?"
The Baron was startled from his thoughts. "N-no, most exalted one. As... as long as the prophesied ones deal with the rebels, they will have served the purpose Sekolah intended..." He looked hatefully to Imoen and Anomen.
"The rebels! That's right!" exclaimed the king in glee. "And here I was, forgetting all about those rebels. That is an excellent task to set these surface dwellers on!"
"If... if I may speak, most honourable one," interrupted Priestess Senityili, "as to the Shark-Father's intentions?"
Ixilthetocal peered at her curiously. "Eh? Are you still here, Senityili? Didn't I just have you sacrificed?"
"That was Tlyysixxous, honourable Ixilthetocal," his priestess explained patiently. The Baron flinched openly at her words.
"Oh. How disappointing," sighed the king. "Well, I suppose you can speak, then."
"I urge you not to listen to the Baron," spoke the priestess. "He would have you destroy the rebels, when there is a far greater need for them in the City-of-Caverns. Our numbers dwindle, honourable Ixilthetocal. You have... exiled many. The hatcheries are barren, and there are too few females... In short, our bloodline grows thin. We need these rebels to join us, to add their blood to ours so that the City-of-Caverns may grow strong again!"
"I see what you say, Senityili," replied Ixilthetocal sincerely. He sounded almost sane to Imoen. "Oh, yes I do. We should have the rebel and his army join us... in principle. The drow and the illithids take more each year. I've no wish to retreat to the depths..." A silence fell over the group and the priestess watched her king; a hopeful look in her eyes.
"But, no," he eventually concluded. "I'd rather have the rebel's heart."
"But... but, honourable Ixilthetocal-"
"Excellent decision, our King!" interrupted the Baron, throwing Senityili a poisonous and smug glance.
"I thought you would like that, my Baron, but I am not doing it for you," continued the king. "The rebel will invade with his army of exiles if he isn't stopped, you know. So it comes down to you, surface humans! I am sure you have no wish to help a race such as us. But you've no objection to killing a few... Hunt down the rebel leader for me, my man and woman... bring me his heart and I shall reward you with great riches!"
The humans exchanged a glance but said nothing. Ixilthetocal watched them intently.
"Your kind does not object to sorcery? We have collected much that is magical during our raids. You are welcome to it all, if you bring me his heart. So... what do you say to that, my surface humans, chosen of Sekolah?"
"We can't fight this rebel if we're prisoners," replied Imoen quietly.
"Prisoners? (hee hee!)" The king giggled inanely. "You are the chosen of Sekolah! You have been sent to us by the prophecy! After we're done here, you can wander off on your way... rest, re-arm yourselves... whatever it is that you surface people enjoy doing, I suppose. Your possessions will be returned to you. Soon you'll leave the city and kill this rebel Prince, saving the City-of-Caverns as the prophecy foretells! And I shall reward you with great riches! Until that time, you will have the free run of the City-of-Caverns. Go where you wish, my good man and woman."
"B-but... but, most honoured one!" Thelokassyil looked horrified. "You wish to let them loose in the city?!"
"They are doing us a great service, my Baron," explained Ixilthetocal. "I want everyone to treat them like... like... like pale, small-toothed, skinny fellow Sahuagin. Yes. Like that."
Anomen gave Imoen a helpless look and spoke. "Very well. We will try to find this rebel you speak of and return his heart to you."
"Good," replied the king happily. "The less rebels running about, the better. You shall save the city and be rewarded... everybody will be happy! Except for Villynaty. And then you'll be free to go off to the Underdark, if that's where you're headed. Unless you'd care to try the oceans again, my little humans! But now I leave you, chosen ones. I desire meat, and the King always dines in private."
With that he wandered off, the Baron following closely behind with his guards. He scowled at the humans as long as he could manage to keep his gaze on them, and soon they were left only with the Priestess Senityili and the corpse of the ettin. She looked at them and spoke with a sense of urgency.
"The king has made it clear I should instruct you as to how you may enter the Prince's base," she said quietly. "It lies at the far end of the city, beyond a chamber with two great doors. Long ago Sekolah appeared there and slew a thousand infidels. He decreed no heretic should again enter the city and sealed the doors. He placed his tooth upon the doors so that we could open them, but later, the drow came. With powerful magic they stormed the city, led by a mage of great strength. He took Sekolah's Tooth from our lax guardians with the intent of blocking pursuit." The priestess paused in her tale and pointed to a distant part of the city. Imoen could only just make out a change in the appearance of the paths and surroundings -- the marble and rock was darker, and the designs and decorations appeared much more twisted than where they currently were.
"The mage built an edifice in the southwest section of the city," Senityili continued. "He was killed, but his complex remains. Sekolah's Tooth is guarded somewhere within..." She sighed. "We have little need for it... the ocean is the means of our travel. But you need it. Seek out the drow's construct, foil his guardians and obtain the key."
Imoen nodded. "We'll do that, but we'll need our belongings first."
"I shall take you back to my chamber to collect them," she said softly. "But first -- I wish to ask something of you."
The humans raised their eyebrows.
"Our King is mad," she said calmly. "Surely your audience with him showed you this."
"He did seem to be a bit strange," agreed Anomen.
"A bit?" asked Imoen. "He was completely doo-lally!"
"He is the result of... poor breeding." The priestess spoke slowly, being cautious with her choice of words. "Like his father he has executed or exiled far too many of our kind. Our numbers are too few, our blood too thin. We must regain what we have lost. Prince Villynaty, the exiles' leader outside the city, is our only hope."
"So he's been exiling all the strong sahuagin outside of the city?" asked Imoen. Senityili nodded sadly. "Eventually everyone left inside will be weak," frowned the mage.
"With the Prince on the throne, we would be strong again... to fight the illithid and the drow. I have been in contact with the rebels and now is the time to strike!" She paused and looked at them eagerly. "What do you say, humans? Surely you hold no love for our mad King. Help us to survive, lest we be swept away by the denizens of the Underdark!"
"I... I don't know," said Imoen cautiously.
"I only ask that you talk with Prince Villynaty, that is all," urged Senityili. "Listen to what he has to offer, and decide then what you shall do. Take this orb." She pulled a small golden globe from her robes and handed it to Imoen. "The rebels will recognise it... they will bring you to Villynaty. That is, of course, if you agree to talk instead of kill. I... I pray that you and the Prince can come to an agreement, that you will talk to him... for the sake of all of my people. Come, then, and we will collect your possessions. May Sekolah guard you from harm."
She turned and walked quickly back along one of the paths through the city and Imoen hastily put the small globe into her pocket as they ran to keep up. They followed her through the winding paths as they ascended the slope, climbing several sets of stairs until they reached the room they'd awoken in. Already there was Tlyysixxous, flanked by some of the king's guards. She didn't even look at the humans.
Senityili pointed to their possessions and strode purposefully towards her former equal. Imoen noticed the platform at the edge of the room, and suddenly became aware of the noise of rushing water. She could imagine what lay beyond.
"An offering for you, Sekolah!" called Senityili as she approached her altar. "Open your mighty jaws and take this, your former servant, as sustenance for you!"
The guards took a firm hold of Tlyysixxous' arms and pulled her to the edge. As she got closer she thrashed slightly.
"We are mighty, Shark-Father!" continued Senityili loudly. "We strike without fear and without remorse! Take this gift as a measure of our power!"
The guards pushed the baron's former priestess roughly over the precipice, ignoring her screams as they echoed in the cavern. Imoen watched the scene horrified, her hands up to cover her mouth. Anomen carefully pulled her away, guiding her to their possessions before coaxing her back onto the city paths, away from the priestess' chamber.
"That..." Imoen's voice faded. Anomen just nodded understandingly and pulled her into his arms, holding her for several minutes until she composed herself. She smiled up to him when he released her.
"Thanks. I needed that."
The knight seemed to colour slightly. "I... I would be happy to offer it whenever you need it, my... Imoen."
Imoen grinned and took his hand firmly in her own. "For security," she explained. He nodded sheepishly. "Let's go and explore this drow section, then," she sighed. "It's not like we have much in the way of choice."
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The older paths in the southwest section of the city were crumbling and dusty. A sahuagin guard warned them as they passed that they would be entering a section that had long been deserted, and the humans nodded solemnly, Imoen placing a hand on Anomen's arm to prevent him from going too far ahead. She'd spotted several snares in their way, and she worked to disarm them with speed and efficiency while he watched her with mild admiration.
Their progress was fairly slow due to the young thief's careful eye, but it wasn't long before they saw their eventual destination. A large circular platform; the pattern on the tiled floor was unmistakably drow -- an intricate circular body with eight curving legs extending from its centre. Six chests were spaced around the room, one significantly larger than the others. Another small passage led to a slightly smaller dais with a strangely designed pillar resting in the middle. A seventh chest lay at the base of this column and hovering above it was a fairly large beholder.
Anomen and Imoen looked at each other and sighed.
"Nothing's ever simple, huh?" asked the thief as she cautiously made her way across. The beholder was watching them carefully, but she was sure she could see amusement in its many eyes. It made absolutely no move towards them, nor did it give any sign of hostility. This didn't make either of them feel any safer.
"Wait," she whispered as they approached the pattern on the floor. "Something's not right."
Anomen stood perfectly still, watching as she measuredly examined the tiles, working diligently at some mechanism he couldn't even see. All the time her attention was taken by it, his own was fixed to the creature watching them in turn, but still it made no advance from its position. He was relieved when Imoen finally stood up, a triumphant look on her face.
"Well, that was tricky-" she began, stopping with a jump as two imps suddenly popped into existence; one a vivid green colour, the other blue, and slightly less bright. They skipped over to Imoen delightedly.
"Hoo-oooh! Someone has come to play at last!" exclaimed the green one.
"Yes yes yes! Someone will play with us, now!" squealed its blue friend. Both of them looked at the thief with large, orange eyes, almost imploringly. She found them quite cute. Anomen didn't seem to share her sentiment, as he was scowling darkly at them.
"What game?" she asked with a smile.
"Our game!" beamed the green imp. "And you're not even that stodgy overgrown fish-King!"
"Yeah! That old fish-King! Pheee-eeeww! No sense of humour!"
"None! But now... hee hee! You big peoples will want the treasure, right?"
"Treasure?" asked Imoen blankly.
"Big peoples always wants the drow's treasures!" explained the blue imp solemnly. "Yes!"
"You can have the drow treasure, oh yes!" proclaimed the green one, "but you have to play our game, first! Hee hee! You have to play our game!"
Imoen threw a bemused look to Anomen, which proved to be enough to remove the frown from his face. "Shall we?" she asked.
"It… I will leave the decision to you," he smiled graciously. Imoen grinned back to him mischievously.
"All right, we'll play your game!"
The imps squealed with delight, then finally calmed down long enough to describe their game. Imoen and Anomen were to approach the five images that were conjured before the five smaller chests and accept an object from them. They were then to place the object into the chest behind the person most likely to want the gift, and only when they got it correct, would the imps agree to open the sixth chest. When Anomen asked why he and Imoen couldn't just open it for themselves, the imps took on serious expressions.
"It has a nasty nasty nasty inside it that will come out and steal your soul! You'll be forever dead-dead!"
"What if I don't have a soul, anyway?" challenged Imoen. "I couldn't harm me, could it?"
The imps looked at each other. "Uh... you don't have a soul?" asked the green one.
"Poor, poor thing," sympathised the blue.
"Best not take chance, even so," nodded green sagely. "Might still take soul of manling behind you, and then you'd be on your own."
"You have a point," agreed Imoen. "Conjure the images -- we're ready to play."
The imps cheered a bit more and then the five figures materialised into their places. Imoen recognised all of them -- famous figures she'd heard the Candlekeep sages lecture on and on about. Anomen, too, had a good idea on the identity of them all, and it wasn't long before they'd sorted out the items and turned to the imps expectantly.
"Oooh! You gots it all right, you did! You outsmarted us but good!" squealed the blue one.
"Awwww, is the games over already?" pouted green.
"Okay, okay. We keeps the deal," nodded blue. "You goes and opens the last chest, now, and we imps will save you. We gets to laugh at the nasty nasty nasty!"
Imoen shook her head at Anomen, approaching the chest alone. She bit her lip as she reached out to the cold handle, noticing her hands were trembling slightly. Silently, she told herself off and clenched her teeth as she heaved the heavy lid open, instinctively standing back as a swish of air spilt from the confines of the container, taking on a ghostly presence at her side.
"Ahhhhaaaa... you hhhaaavvve rrrreleeeaaasssed me..." it hissed quietly, a spectral hand raising up towards her. She recoiled from its touch and it seemed to fade slightly, a puzzled look crossing over its hazy face. "But... whaaaat isss thiiiissss? I... I cannnnot rrrreeeeaaaach yyoouur liiifffe fffffoooorrrrce..."
"Ha ha! Poor nasty nasty nasty!" exclaimed the green imp.
"You can't do nothing, nasty! We protectings the big people! Thpppppfffft!" The blue imp danced around for a bit.
"Nnnnooo! NnNnNNOOOO! I... I aaaammmm tooo weeeeeaaaakkk..." screeched the apparition as the imps began to chant something in unison, the energy from their spell dancing towards the wavering figure. Within seconds it had gone.
"Ha ha! That was fun!" declared the green imp.
"You funny big peoples!" nodded blue. "We go now."
They waved in unison and disappeared with a small rumbling noise. Imoen grinned at Anomen, and he allowed a small smile to cross his features as he walked over to be next to her.
"And we thought the king was mad," he said softly.
"I don't know," said Imoen thoughtfully. "I still think he is -- the imps were just fun."
The knight looked slightly aghast. "You are not serious, are you? They were... they... well, they were..."
"Loud? Excitable? Annoying?" offered Imoen.
Anomen nodded. "Exactly."
Imoen sighed slightly, and a wistful look crossed her face. "So was I, once," she said quietly.
Anomen winced slightly at her words, and reached out to touch her arm comfortingly. She smiled her thanks somewhat ruefully and shook her head. "It's fine," she lied. "And anyway -- I was never quite as bad as that. I don't think..."
It was the priest's turn to grin. "Even if you were, I am sure it would be more endearing than annoying." He instantly coloured and moved past her to examine the chest, trying to ignore her amused expression.
"Why, thank you," she replied, slightly teasingly. "Maybe you'll be around long enough to see me return to my old self so you can witness the real Imoen first hand."
Anomen drew out a cloak and a pair of boots from the chest and handed them to the girl while he desperately tried to hide his smile. "It would be... nice."
Imoen waved her hand over the two items, identifying them as possessing fairly strong enchantments -- the cloak of protection, the boots holding an ability to make the wearer ethereal for a limited time each day. Anomen was quick to insist that she wore both. She shook her head.
"I already have your cloak," she pointed out.
"I can take it back," he shrugged. "It is pretty poor protection for you, and the cloak would make me feel much better about your lack of armour."
"I don't wear armour," she snorted. "Gets in the way of my casting, see."
"Ah, of course," replied Anomen. "Well, until you get some worthy robes, at least."
Imoen pouted slightly and he raised an eyebrow. "I like this cloak," she said in a small voice.
He frowned, puzzled. "But, my lady," he protested, wincing as he noticed her glare. "It can't rival the benefits that this one has."
She sighed and reluctantly unclasped her warm cloak, grudgingly handing it back to him and taking the new cape in replacement. All the while, Anomen peered at her curiously, failing to understand why she would decline the opportunity to receive a better piece of equipment.
"She doesn't want to give you your cloak back, silly human, because it came from you, I'd wager." Anomen spun around to see the beholder still watching them, a definite look of amusement in its many eyes. Imoen flushed at its words and scowled over to it.
"Hey, who asked you?" she demanded.
"No one," it replied simply. "Just thought I'd get involved."
"Well... don't!" Imoen exclaimed, hurriedly marching over to it despite Anomen's protests, in a desperate bid to hide her blush. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Oh, you know, floating about," it replied airily. "Hello, by the way. I don't often get visitors here. Except for those mad imps, but I guess you've got rid of them now, for me."
"Oh," said Imoen simply. "Sorry?"
"No, don't apologise. You've done me a favour. I guess I'm back to just the mad little sahuagin visiting occasionally again."
"That must be fun," grinned Imoen.
"Riveting," replied the beholder dryly. "I see your friend is less at ease with this conversation. Do you think he objects to my species?"
"I think he's just a bit confused as to why you're talking to us and not trying to kill us," admitted Imoen, throwing Anomen a teasing look. He frowned even more.
"That is because I am but a Spectator Beholder, however, and not quite like others you may have met. I am set in this place to guard one thing and one thing only."
"Let me guess -- you guard the chest below you," hazarded Imoen.
"I'd call you clever, were it not so painfully obvious."
"I know, it is obvious, isn't it? I try to act dumb, but it just doesn't work..."
The beholder sighed. "I meant... no, never mind. I'm almost wishing the imps would come back."
"Aw, come on now, I'm just having some fun!" pouted the thief. "So anyway... what's in your chest that's so exciting?"
"I don't have a clue," replied the Spectator. "The mad little sahuagin kept asking that, and I'd keep saying the same thing to them over and over. But that reminds me… I did promise them I'd try and scare away intruders so... Boo!" Anomen jumped at the sudden shout, causing Imoen to dissolve into a fit of giggles. "And that," continued the beholder, "is about as much effort as I'm willing to put in."
"Seems like it was enough," snorted Imoen hysterically. Anomen gave her a poisonous look and turned his attention to the Spectator.
"Whatever your purpose, you are still a creature of evil," stated the knight calmly. "Your end should be here, this day."
"Well, if you really want to fight, you'll have to attack me first," it replied calmly. "I can't cause harm to anyone unless they try to damage the chest, you see, so the ball is really in your court."
"We're not gonna fight you," retorted Imoen. "Anomen's a knight and he has a sort of one-track mind when it comes to things like this."
"Oh, I see," said the Spectator sympathetically. "My condolences." Neither Imoen nor Anomen were sure who he was talking to, but the priest took offence and huffed with annoyance regardless.
Imoen looked back to the chest. "Are you sure I can't see what's inside?" she asked with her widest eyes and smallest voice. It never used to fail back in Candlekeep.
The beholder sighed. "What? Are you in desperate need, or something? You have a dying relative that desperately needs what's in this chest? OH, I get it! You just have to have what's in this chest, right? Because if a beholder's guarding it, it has to be cool!"
"Something like that," she admitted.
"Keep in mind that the drow who summoned me was mad," it replied. "But, hey, who am I to judge, I suppose. I've been playing tic-tac-toe with a pair of imps for sixty years."
"Is that a 'no', then?" Imoen pondered fluttering her eyelashes, but realised it probably wasn't worth the effort.
"Ah, the cleverness again. No, you can't look at what's in the chest. The drow specifically summoned me to guard this chest."
"Did the drow summon you to guard just the chest or what's inside the chest?" asked Anomen suddenly. The beholder and Imoen turned to look at him, seeming to have forgotten he was still there.
"Hmm," replied the Spectator thoughtfully. "Well, he screamed 'my chest', as I recall. A spear was being thrust through his own chest at the time, though, so he could have been referring to that. I assume he was talking about this chest, though. And that means I can't let you open it... or do anything to it... even if I'm not guarding what's inside."
"But that doesn't mean that you can't open it?" pressed Anomen.
"And we could get to what's inside without touching it," added Imoen excitedly.
"You're probably right," admitted the beholder. "Hmm. Actually, I've been wondering what was inside. Tell you what... I won't turn around and you just go take a look, ok?" It swung down to the container and somehow managed to open it. "On you go, then."
Imoen darted over fearlessly and peered into the chest. She pulled out the solitary object from it and held it up so Anomen could see.
"Hmph. Is that it?" The Spectator sounded disappointed. "Shoot, you'd have thought the whole future of the drow race depended on it or something, the way that mad drow was screaming." It sighed heavily. "I suppose I have to resign myself, now, to guarding a completely empty chest for the next forty years."
"You wouldn't have to do that, would you?" asked Imoen. "Keep guarding an empty chest? What would be the point?"
"You know... you're absolutely right," replied the beholder, sounding a little happier. "Not even that drow mage would want me to guard an empty chest. It's not even a nice chest."
"It's a bit plain and ugly," nodded Imoen in agreement.
"There's no way that the Beholder Council, bloated bladder-bags that they are, would hold me responsible for this contract!" the Spectator exclaimed with joy. "I... I'm free! Free! Yippee! What to do now? Hmmn. Kill the imps... yeah. Those bastards deserve to die. But first I'm gonna go eat something. You have no idea how hungry I am."
"Eat the imps?" suggested Anomen dryly. "Kill two birds with one stone."
"Hmm. I would, but they'd probably just cause me trouble on the inside. Their level of annoyance knows no bounds. It's been a pleasure conversing, but you'll excuse me if I leave now. Don't catch the madness of the local king in your travels -- it would be a shame."
The Spectator teleported away, leaving the two humans standing alone on the platform. Imoen examined the object in her hand -- a sharp white tooth that seemed to radiate magic.
"This must be Sekolah's tooth," she said to the knight. He nodded his agreement. "We should go to see the Prince now, then," she continued, handing their gain to him to hold onto for safe keeping. "Hey... are you okay?"
Anomen nodded again, turning away to walk back towards the main part of the city, but Imoen caught his hand and stopped him. "You're not upset at me, are you?" she asked. "I was only teasing about the knight stuff-"
"I know," he said, too quickly. He drew his hand away, and forced the smallest of smiles onto his face. "Let us finish this business and escape this infernal place as soon as we can," he said, continuing on his way. Imoen sighed and trotted after him with a frown.