There is a lot of drow dialog in the next chapter, and for reasons of it being annoying, not every line of dialog in Ilythiiri will always be written in that language from now on, as a good part of the story is from Solaufein's point of view. Also, it is worth noting herein that Ilythiiri is a limited conlang (fantasy language) and doesn't have as comprehensive a vocabulary as a conlang that's been in circulation longer, like Sindarin or Klingon. I use a dictionary in PDF format and the Chosen of Eilistraee's translator (no relation to this story title) for my shit. Also, Halaster doesn't rhyme because this isn't Tolkien.

PT 1: BINNE

I was wrong. It was all very bad.

It started off quite nice - we encountered a drow patrol that had just finished off a group of frenzied harpies and they were looking a little worse for wear. Easy pickings for us. Fighting had never felt so natural with another before, so fluid. It felt easy, and right. Solaufein explained that they were likely all that was left of an encampment of drow and had anticipated less resistance than they found in Undermountain. He had stripped the adamantine chain off of one of their dead and donned it and was looking very much like one of the dapper locals. He instructed Deekin spell himself and I under an invisibility spell, which was mortifying when Deekin brought out his cymbals in his pack and clanged them together loudly to complete the spell. Bards, ugh.

Then, Solaufein had donned the piwafwi, pulled his silken hood up over his head and ears, and walked off toward the patrol with nary a word. I wasn't even sure what the signal of his was for attack, but kept my energy coiled tightly in my gut for a quick entropic burst, just in case. My ears picked up on the whispered conversation from the next room as Deekin and I hid in the corridor. I was afraid to speak and ask him if he could make out what was being said, since I didn't want to be the one to burst Solaufein's cover.

Then, I heard the distinct sound of a few swords being drawn, and thought, 'fuck it.' I poked my head around the doorway and saw Solaufein standing there looking like he owned the ground he walked upon facing two drow males in blackened leather armor. They were all sneering at each other, the three of them. The two men had drawn their swords but were not pointing them at our dear leader. They all spoke in low voices, but even if I had heard them I was sure that I would not understand a lick of it. If only I'd thought to acquire a translation amulet at some point in my life. O'course, the ogres would've simply stolen it.

I tried to get a better look but made a slight scuffle. It was no louder than a rat and I thought I drew no attention, but I felt Deekin poke me in the side. Somehow his poke felt reproachful. I winced and continued watching, waiting, fuming at the inaction I was suffering. Neither male looked toward me and the scene hadn't changed, but I admitted Solaufein had a point about me not knowing a lick about stealthy-ness. Clearly, that was more his forte.

Quite suddenly behind Solaufein, a wizard popped into visibility - I only pegged him as a wizard by the robe and staff alone, which even amongst drow seemed stereotypical. I wasn't sure what Solaufein's signal was, but I wasn't about to stand and watch while he got ambushed to death. "Behind you!" I shouted and unleashed the coiled spring in my gut up through my chest and out of my palm, sending a beam of entropic light right at the wizard's unguarded back.

Fuck the plan. It was a bad plan. The entropic energy lashed out like a whip and sprang around the wizard's throat like an angry python before he could activate a contingency. The mage screamed for a moment before he was choked and being dragged back toward my position by the energy recoiling back into my hand. I reached out a dagger and ended his life before even thinking about what I'd just done - and behind me, the corridor exploded into action.

Deekin started clanging his cymbals together back in the hall we were spying in, scratching out something in his voice that I couldn't understand. Solaufein had drawn his sword with his left hand and threw the dirk from his hip right into the chest of the drow male on his right, just in time for Solaufein to block a blow and backpedal as the enemy on the left swung his sword hard with an enraged battle-cry. I couldn't be sure that the one he'd shot his weapon at was really dead and threw the first spell that came into my head at the fallen one - a fiery blast of angry hellfire that knocked him down, hopefully for good. I trusted Solaufein to handle the other - and sure enough, after a few seconds, my drow managed to cut the warrior down and proved himself the superior swordsman.

I caught up to Solaufein and he turned to look at me just as the entire room of drow became aware of us. Two of them had walked to the edge of their camp to speak with Solaufein, and now a whole seven other out of the ten-person hunting party were aiming crossbows and chanting spells at us. "Get the diviner," he told me just as a globe of impenetrable darkness fell over my head.

I hadn't been in such bracing battle in a long time. It was briefly thrilling. I had a spell that would have assuredly helped Solaufein, but he was out of reach and thus on his own. I ran for cover from the volley of crossbow bolts out of the darkness so I could see and aimed a spell of fear at the distant archers, hoping it would at least keep a few distracted. It affected at least two of them who went to run in panic while the other one just seemed confused and annoyed and aimed a bolt at my head. I ducked in time and looked for the 'diviner,' probably the cleric of the group. I spotted her just as she entered invisibility, one of three females in the group, the other two who were a swordswoman and a wizard focusing on Solaufein.

The spell I'd saved for Solaufein I used on myself, gaining the aspects of a spider with the ability to walk upon walls. It'd taken me an exhausting eight months at Blackstaff's school of studying spiders in their webs in dusty alcoves and examining their little toes with a scope before I could figure out how to shape my energy into the right form for the spell. My patience paid off. They definitely weren't expecting when I ran to the wall for me to run UP it and on the ceiling. I shot forward along the stone ceiling and jumped down in front of the place I knew the cleric was and used my nose to locate her as best as I could. I aimed for where I thought her face would be with a wide blow and found my hand connecting with plate armor. It hurt, but I had her. Feeling myself growl, I reached my hands forth and summed that innate fire I'd felt I lost not long ago, that churned and stirred in my blood. She was an invisible not fireproof and became engulfed in my flames. After that it was a simple matter of knocking her down and finding the next enemy.

But, the next one found me. A warrior had been guarding her that I'd kind of forgotten about, and in my haze of idiocy he reached forth and stabbed at me. His blow glanced my chainmail but left a bruise I'd surely feel later, and I stumbled back. He advanced on me just as the cleric managed to put herself out by rolling, but she was still panicked and a mess. I yet had time. I jumped back on the wall and used it to leap around him - but rather than attack from behind like he was expecting, I ran toward the priestess and slit her throat before she could push me off of her in one swift cut. One-on-one I was no match for him - I knew that, and besides, she was the greater threat. In response he snarled something decidedly nasty-sounding at my retreating form.

I ran for the other wall, clutching my stomach, and crawled up to the ceiling again for safety. One of the archers had recovered from the fear spell and was trying to hit me, only to be suddenly bowled over by a large bear that I assumed came from Deekin. That, or Halaster had a better sense of humor than I thought. The bear sat on the drow, completely rendering it immobile and swatted at anyone that tried to push him off with a swipe of his paw. Crossbow bolts probably tipped with all manner of horrible poisons were stopped by his thick hide, and he swatted them away from his furry body like little gnats.

From my place on the ceiling, I shot out a few more eldritch blasts, glancing off of armor or sometimes causing them to stumble or fall down. Most of them appeared to have enchanted armor and some innate magic resistance, but I distracted them enough or caused enough damage that it was fairly easily for Solaufein to pick them off. Deekin's bear and I kept the archers occupied, and finally ran back down the ceiling and walls when the last one had snapped out of his terror to reorient himself. I saw him aiming a blow at Solaufein's unprotected back just as he stabbed one of the wizards right through, and he never saw me coming. I had just my dagger and a kukri we'd found strapped to my lower back, and drew both - one to back-stab, and one for the throat. He fell with a gurgle, dead at my feet in a growing warm pool. I stepped out of it, conscious of my borrowed and not exactly stain-proof boots.

The battle had been over much faster than I anticipated. The drow had likely not expected or been prepared for much resistance. They'd been battling ogres and harpies and who knew what for months, probably while I'd been held captive. Despite that, we had fairly short work of them which was a feat for three individuals. The bear kept the last one who was alive immobilized and muffled. I patted it on the shoulder while Deekin clanged his way back into visibility. He was uninjured, Solaufein was winded and appeared to have been nicked by one of the bolts but did not look much worse for wear.

I was about to congratulate him when he fell on his knees, wincing. I ran forward, feeling worried. "What is it?"

"It is poison," he huffed. "Deekin!"

"On it, Boss!" The kobold chirped and ransacked his bag of holding. He came out victoriously with a potion bottle, which the drow snatched from his hands. After Solaufein drank it, he breathed in and accepted my offered hand to assist in standing up.

"Their crossbows are always poisoned," he informed me. "Were you struck?"

I didn't think I was. "I don't feel funny. Probably not, or I'd feel funny. The bear is sitting on a live one," I gestured over to the giant brown bear on top of a wheezing drow, who could probably only breathe due to his armor plating.

Solaufein harrumphed. "I suppose we will have to interrogate him as you suggested. Thank you," he said suddenly, stopping me short. "I had heard the wizard behind me but would not have had time to react. I may have needed Deekin's rod if you had not reacted so quickly."

I beamed. "My timing's alright. I'm not so good with stealthy, though."

He nodded and stepped forward toward the bear. Then, he paused and turned back to me. "Were you walking on the walls?" He asked with an amused expression.

"I was going to cast it on you, but you ran off too quickly," I admitted with a grin. "Pretty fun, yeah?"

"Interesting," he mused and moved to the downed drow archer.

The drow would have refused to speak with any of us, but clearly held no love for Solaufein. I watched the interrogation eagerly all the same since I'd never seen Solaufein next to another drow. There was really no comparison, though. Solaufein was taller than the other man, better looking, and a little harder in the eyes. I doubted they'd been eating very well, living in Undermountain as they had been. It seemed clear from their appearance, up-close, that they'd been trapped here as much as I was. The archer's eyes were full of spite and he stank of fear; I doubted anything he told Solaufein would be the complete truth, but it was all probably as much as he expected.

After a heated interaction, the only word I could distinctly hear was 'dough-bluff' and the bear was banished as Solaufein cut down at our prisoner with his sword in a two-handed stroke that cleanly beheaded the enemy. The gesture startled me a bit because it was so sudden; also because I hadn't been sure of what to do with our prisoner now that we held him at our mercy. It seemed the most efficient route; Solaufein performed the kill expertly and expressionlessly.

"They serve a powerful female calling herself 'Valsharess,'" he reported in an even voice as he flicked and cleaned the blood off of his blade with our former prisoner's cloak. "She has done this because the Spider Queen has gone missing."

That was hard to believe. "Ha! First Halaster now Lolth?" I scoffed. "Is whatever kidnapped Waukeen holding them all?"

Solaufein shrugged and stood up to sheath his weapon. His expression was cold, and serious. "No female could espouse herself as quar'valsharess with she-whom-I-will-not-name missing. Valsharess means 'queen' and 'goddess' in my language. It is a title reserved for Her exclusively, and she is a . . . very jealous deity, to put it mildly. This female has dismantled their houses, their cities, and united them under a common banner to invade the surface and take over the city of Waterdeep. They have been trying to do this through Undermountain and are somehow holding Halaster hostage so that they might do so unmolested. It appears to have backfired, as many of them are now trapped in Undermountain and cannot return."

I processed this. Somehow a drow priestess, or woman or mage of some kind (I was supposing she was a very clever mage) had kidnapped the Blackcloak. And Lolth was missing. A funny chill started at the base of my spine and spread up to my head. It made my tail twitch in anticipation. "Well, then it wasn't a waste. Surely this Valsharoon lady could not have done this alone," I wondered.

The drow squinted at me. "Velsharoon is the patron of necromancy, Binne," he gently corrected.

I pretended I hadn't heard him because I hadn't known that. "Halaster is no mere wizard. He writes his own spells, he's thousands of years old, and madder than a hatter. I doubt any drow priestess of any strength could capture him, even if she was the god of necromancy."

"I know little of Halaster," the drow admitted, "but I know my people's politics, and considering how massive an alliance this one styling herself as the new Valsharess seems to have, it would have taken a considerable amount of betrayal and planning. He said she overthrew the Great Houses of Menzoberranzan and he did not lie, which is a feat I would have thought impossible. Trust me, politics is one of my specialties."

I smiled. "I thought your specialty was swords."

"I have many specialties," he said wryly and returned my smile, but then it fell as his expression became thoughtful. "He confirmed that Halaster is being held on one of the lowest levels of Undermountain which does lead to the Underdark. Excursions have been unable to return there to resupply as Halaster was able to separate their group from their main forces. Either they were abandoned to their fate, or none could open the door from the other side. Now creatures have been fleeing Undermountain as a result, up toward the surface and wreaking havoc." His lips down-turned. "They all expected to die but did not expect us."

Deekin chimed in, "well, they not be very smart then. We be heroes!"

"Right you are, master bard," I agreed. "Now, let us loot their corpses for valuables!"

"You have to share any shinies you find," Deekin warned. "We be splitting loot three ways."

"I care not about the loot," Solaufein objected. After a pause, he added, "but if you see any swords, let me know. The weight of mine is . . . All wrong."

I wasn't privy to the problems of swording, having always preferred big things with which to hit. I'd grown up around axes, scythes, and whips used to tend to the wood, hay, and horses, but in the war I'd stuck with a poleaxe and a scythe. I was a little out of my element down there, but I'd never felt more in tune with my innate power in my life. I picked up an adamantine chain tunic from one of the males, who were the only ones even close to my height. It was tight, but it was better than my current armor, and felt a little lighter. The diviner's cloak had been valuable before I set it aflame, but the wizard held some goodies that Deekin carefully split. I kept one of their staves as my share and strapped it to my back as a last-resort measure (it was loaded with a few contingency spells Deekin had been able to identify, and it looked shiny), and a dagger with poison enchanted into it, and felt a little better about my odds in the next battle. Solaufein, per his declaration, did not care and let Deekin hold onto his share. He kept his current gear, though we did find a pair of boots with a permanent haste spell upon them that I suggested he keep. His eyes gleamed when he took them, and while anyone would have liked them, it was the only thing he wanted.

I'd completely blown the plan up, but it had worked out alright in the end. Solaufein didn't lecture me at all about it, which was nice of him - he struck me as a pragmatic fellow. We'd gotten the information, and that was all that mattered. For a while it was a question of whether or not we'd head back up and get a message to Durnan, but Solaufein decided against it and determined that he wasn't going to return until Halaster was freed. I was dearly hoping the bastard was dead, personally. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as my mother says.

The south part of the dungeon was fairly clear, except for the sleeping blue dragon. That part had been a bit of a cinch in the plan, but thankfully its snores were so loud that it didn't hear any of us creeping by. Deekin had wanted to loot it but couldn't convince Solaufein to go and check the chamber out for any gear; he was deadly, not suicidal. Then, the kobold took it upon himself to investigate and came back with a rather nice looking set of blue armor that none of us had any use for, other than to sell. We all shrugged and went back about our business.

Unofficially, I had been in charge of directions. The problem was that I was struggling to remember exactly where I'd started the portal-jumping. We had to return to the entrance to the well-room before I could orient myself and lead us toward the right one.

I hoped I sounded authoritative in a way I didn't feel. "Ahem. There's a specific order to these that we have to go in, and some of them will be easy and some of them will be dangerous. Some of them might also be very random. I can't predict what we're going to see or run into since these sometimes fire us off into random places, but from what I could figure out—"

"Just do it already," Solaufein demanded, and I shut up.

We ran through the first portal and it was a little disorienting. The yellow light flashed until it faded, depositing us down a blank hallway that I didn't recognize. The others seemed unaffected by wear, so I looked around for the next portal which was down a fair ways. Instincts alerted me to the presence of danger just as Deekin shouted about a trap, and I jumped back in time to avoid getting a dart to my sides and neck. We waited for the volley to stop before running ahead and jumping through the next one.

This one led us to a chamber situated between two hot pools of magma that nearly choked the air. I felt a little bit toasty, but I worried about the others who seemed a little worse for wear. I hurried us to the end of the chamber and stepped into the next yellow spinning light, this one situated right into the wall rather than the ground.

The next one I actually recognized, having stumbled into it before by accident when we were running from some harpies - that is, the party I'd been adventuring with before. So long I'd been down there that I'd forgotten their faces and names. One of them had died of poison in this room from a trap. "Hang on," I said to my new companions and looked about - and sure enough, there was the body of a halfling in plate armor. "Huh. Guess nothing must come down here." I bent down and he still seemed intact - so I stripped him of his potion belt, since I was sure he wouldn't mind. "I came down here with this fella. Can't remember him for the life of me. Might be some loot about, maybe we should pause a bit?"

Solaufein looked queasy. "Very well," he assented, and leaned on a wall.

I was concerned. "You all right? You seem a little ruffly."

His brows pinched. "I do not know that word."

"Worse for wear, I mean," I clarified. He had started to teach me the odd drow word in exchange for my teaching him insults and colloquialisms.

He took a deep, calming breath. "Ah. No. I hate portals."

"They not be Boss' stomach's favorite!" Deekin called over, apparently having overheard. "Hey, guys! Deekin finds something. Come look!"

We meandered over in the dim light toward the sound of Deekin's voice. The light got brighter as we noticed a few lit torches, illuminating a larger chamber lined with thrones. Large and ornate, made of stone and ivory and mithral - there seemed to be about nine of them in total. Upon each throne was a skeleton, seated - some with weapons in their hands, some with crowns. It was all very odd and seemed perfectly within Halaster's idiom.

"This be the hall of Sleeping Kings," Deekin informed us in a hushed voice. "Deekin not sure if they be sleeping or dead, but probably both. Why Halaster keep a bunch of dead, sleepy kings in his death-dungeon? Oh, wait, Deekin answered his own question."

"Who knows why he does anything he does," I muttered, eying the skeletons. "Let's not wake them up."

I expected our drow leader to chime in at some point, but his corner was silent. I turned to look where I last saw him, only to double-take when I noticed his shadowed form approaching one of the thrones of the king's. Wary, I followed while Deekin started looking at a staff clutched by one of the skeletons up close.

Solaufein was staring at a particular skeleton, seated, and resting forever in his throne/prison. Clutched in its hand and resting across its thigh bones was an ornate black longsword made of some kind of glass or stone, I couldn't tell - it was no recognizable metal to my eyes. "This is a tomb," the drow commented as he heard my approach by his shoulder.

"Right, well, the portal's just outside the door here, if I re—"

"You there!" A foreign voice suddenly barked, snapping the tense air. "Mortal! Person! Thing! With the moving fleshy parts! Yes, I'm talking to you, sir in the shiny armor with the - er - couple of slaves? Is it? I'm not judging! Just trying to get your attention. Look over here, yes, I'm the extra-shiny sword, if you'll just turn your attention my way please."

Solaufein and I looked at each other, startled. He looked back at the skeleton. "Are you speaking to me?" He wondered.

Suddenly, the sword in the skeleton's lap began to emit a deep red glow, almost the color of blood. The light within fluctuated with each word that was spoken by the sword, as if it was speaking through the sword. "Yes, you! Look down! No, not at the floor, at the glittering sword! Yes, thank you. That's it. Hello!"

All three of us stared at the sword, and then shared a look between each other that spoke volumes as to what we each of us thought of Halaster's ridiculous death puzzle. "You are a sword," Solaufein stated in a perfectly dour tone that could've been an imitation of Hembercane for how dry it was.

"A master of the obvious you are," the sword snarked before I could, letting out smatterings of red lights like a glittery glow beneath the black metal's surface. "Yes, 'tis I, Enserric the Gray. I am, quite obviously, a sword. And a rather nice one, as you can see. Not only am I shiny, but I'm also supremely sharp."

"I can see that," he observed. His eyes appeared to have lit up a bit at the sight of a shiny sword in the way mine would on an unbreakable nail file.

"Are you part of Halaster's decor?" I asked. "I have a few suggestions for him, if so."

The sword flashed bright red. "Nothing so fancy, I assure you," Enserric the longsword chimed. "No. I am, or was, an adventurer. That rather unfortunate looking pile of bones off to your left? That was me so long ago." I turned down to my feet and let my eyes crawl up a disheveled stack of bones near the base of the throne, with scraps of ancient fabric. I toed it with my boot, feeling a little sad for him. "This sword has a rather intense vampiric enchantment placed upon it that I was hit with shortly before my death, and my consciousness was transferred inside. It was some fifty years ago. I've been here ever since, sitting in the lap of a skeleton."

Deekin had approached us slowly after overhearing the conversation. "That sound very boring," he decided. "Deekin feel sorry for you, and also wonders how you be counting the years trapped inside of a piece of metal. And hows you be talking right now, and also hows you not be insane from being alone so long in creepy death dungeon with creepy skeletons everywhere."

"And now I have the pity of a kobold," Enserric spat. "Wonderful. My eternal ennui is complete. Who's to say I'm not mad? I could very well be, for all I know."

"At least he's honest," I assessed. I turned to Solaufein. He had a peculiar gleam in his eye as he looked at the sword. "What are you thinking, Solly?"

He barely glanced at me. "First, never call me that again. Second, I am thinking that if we take this sword, this chamber will no longer contain sleeping kings."

Enserric paused before replying. "Well, er, yes. That is part of the problem. Chief Skele-dome here might not like it if you take his longsword. On the other hand, I'll be free and you can kill him! You seem like capable young adventurers. What do you say?"

"Hah!" I chuckled. "Chief Skele-dome. I like 'im. Let's take him. We can take the bonesacks."

Solaufein smirked. "I think a talking longsword would be a liability. My mission requires stealth. We should be on our way." He turned away, and then Enserric started begging.

"Oh, please don't leave me here!" The sword's cries were strident. "I-I can be stealthy! Quiet as a mouse."

"Tell me about your enchantment, first," the drow commanded. "Does it work both ways?"

Enserric went quiet and still for a second. "Somewhat. It transfers the enemy's life energy to your own, a sort of vampiric regeneration. I think my body has a few other perks to it, but you'd need a wizard to tell you more. I used to be one, but no longer have access to my stores of magic. That seems to require a physical body, in the same way that a lich with no animus would only lay dormant in a phylactery."

"Deekin can probably figure it out," the kobold offered. Solaufein motioned him forward and the little bard bent down in front of the skeleton to examine Enserric more closely. "Hmm. Sword be right, there be a few enchantments. One to steal life, and one to keep it sharp, Deekin think, and one maybe to change its size. Could be shorter or longer if you wants. Maybes more, but Deekin would need time to study for longer."

That gleam appeared in Solaufein's eyes again that I was starting to realize was a kind of gleeful anticipation. "Very well. Prepare a spell of invisibility. I am going to take Enserric, and then we will run for the next portal."

I headed right for the door that led to the next portal, hoping I could keep it open just in case it was spelled to close in the event of the kings' waking up. Deekin sang a little scratchy song, thankfully not using his cymbals which would wake up Pandemonium with its racket (along with the entire hall of skeletons prematurely), and before he was finished, Solaufein's nimble fingers pulled Enserric the longsword from the skeleton king's grasp.

Just as he did so, the sword's length shifted as it seemed to slide up into the hilt, becoming a regular longsword. Then the skeleton king's eye sockets began to glow, and it stood in its chair. I heard in my periphery the sounds of other bones clacking and weapons being drawn. Deekin's spell finished and the two of them disappeared into thin air. The skeleton seemed almost confused; I didn't need to know where they were since they knew to follow me and trusted that they were close behind when I booked it to the next portal outside the next hall.

Before we knew it, we were free, and without getting a single hair damaged. I wasted no time in leading us to the next portal, which was barely five feet away from our own, and thankfully that one led us back to the main entrance.

This frustrated Solaufein, however. "You have led us in a circle!" He growled at me.

I frowned. "We'll circle back a few times, but we'll get there. Come on, the next one's barely up this way. I promise I've done this before. Try to trust me on this." He looked very frustrated with me and if I didn't know better, I'd say he pouted.

"Ah, what is the demon attempting? To cheat her way through Undermountain?" Enserric the Gray scoffed in Solaufein's hands. "That's not what those portals are for."

"You've been down here decades, stuck in the body of a sword! What do you know?" I snapped. "The method works, trust me."

"Trust a scheming cambion? My times have changed," he scoffed. "Then again, it is a drow who has rescued me, so perhaps I should be more blithe."

"Yes, you should," Solaufein nodded, "and you can repay me by keeping quiet for now, unless you have something constructive to add. No? Then let us hurry."

I hesitated only because he'd felt so queasy earlier but figured he would tell me if something was wrong. It appeared he decided to take me at my word, which was a new one for me. With a spring in my step, I led us on to the next, and the next, and the next.

We flashed by dragons, by ogres, by fairies, and at one point startled a faun who was bathing by appearing in her room and abruptly running out. Deekin shouted an apology after us.

I don't know how many we went through, exactly. A few place I recognized, and some I did not. I was sure it would work, however, and I don't know exactly why I was sure. It was something that I couldn't explain, though I was certain our lack of progress was frustrating Solaufein. A few times we seemed to double back, and then skip forward. Once, we had to stop to regain our bearings as he began to feel nauseous again. There was something oddly endearing about the fact that his stomach couldn't handle extensive portal travel. He was a force of nature in battle but show him another portal and he'd dry heave.

We did eventually make it into Halaster's lab. It was more a matter of the number of portals you used - from what little I understood, most were random, but some were specific. It was only a matter of time before you'd cross the right one. When we got there, I didn't know it was his lab at first - it was by complete accident I'd gotten there the first time, and the second time was only slightly more intentional. I didn't recognize the dark room we'd emerged in, but my nose picked up on the scent of rotting flesh approaching that alerted me to the presence of undead.

"Watch out!" I cried and moved instinctively to the side only to find myself flush up against a stone wall. As an instinctive flare of wild energy balled up in my gut, a globe of darkness fell over all of our heads - I'd seen other drow cast the ability before and assumed it had been Solaufein. Everything became near-pitch and I had trouble making out even the slightest detail. I heard a warbled growl and cry, followed by him shouting - or swearing - in drow. The sound of a sword cutting through flesh and Enserric's crow of victory informed me the battle was over long before the darkness was dispelled by Deekin. Not that the faint light was much better than the dark . . .

That was when I realized that I'd forgotten all about Berger.

When the darkness faded, I was stunned by how quickly everything had just happened. First, we'd actually gotten to the lab; only about half of my ideas ever work, and usually not the way I intend them when they do. This had not been my intent, because second, Berger had locked himself inside the lab and had tried to protect it from us, the intruders, and attacked on instinct. Solaufein had assumed we were being attacked when I alerted him - I'd followed my nose before my brain, as usual, and hadn't even recognized the golem before the darkness globe had been cast. He'd been attacked by the flesh golem, who was probably defending itself from the invaders, or defending Halaster's goods.

I stepped up to examine the damage. Solaufein's adamantine chain hadn't been scratched, but his face had three rather large new wounds across it that he was nursing, in addition to the portal-induced headache when earned a few groans from him. Deekin was already fetching a potion. It looked like the golem had gotten in a lucky shot - why Solaufein never seemed to put on a helmet was beyond me, maybe it interfered with his eyesight or they didn't make them in drow sizes . . . Either way he was probably fine, but Berger's twitching body was emitting some kind of foul-smelling black blood and lay still at the drow's feet. When the golem's arm twitched out to violently grasp at air, Solaufein calmly cut its head off.

"This is a bloody disaster!" I announced, dodging the rolling head.

Once Solaufein was healed, he stood up full and stretched. "A warning would have been nice," he said snippily, after leveling me with a glare. He winced and sat back down, groaning, and clutching his head.

I shook my head. "No," you don't understand, I wanted to say, you don't know what you've done. How to put this? "This is beyond a disaster. This is catastrophe. I'm so sorry, Solaufein, I should have reminded you or - I - this is bad. That was Berger you just killed, Halaster's son!"

The drow blinked. "That was a flesh golem," he said slowly.

I shook my head again, a few more times. Maybe I was in disbelief? Hoo boy. "Halaster's going to be furious. If he's alive. If we free him. If . . . If is good. Or maybe if he's still captured, we could kill him before he kills you . . ."

Solaufein seemed genuinely confused. "It attacked me, so I killed it."

I slapped myself on the horns in exasperation. "Don't you remember? The ogre talked about him! And I did. A little. Berger isn't the mad wizard's literal son, he's a golem that Halaster created to be his son. He was kind of stupid, honestly. Annoying, but mostly harmless. So, maybe it's not the worst thing for him that he's dead, who knows what Halaster's going to do when we find him now! Best not mention this," I warned. "And that's only if he's alive when we find him."

Solaufein reconsidered the flesh golem's corpse and toed it with his boot. "It is a flesh golem," he repeated slowly.

"What Blackcloak do if he find out Boss killed his, um, flesh golem son?" Deekin wondered.

I shuddered to think. "What you're failing to really understand about this place is that Halaster is Undermountain. It's not just his laboratory, or his pet project . . . How long do you remember being down here?" Solaufein thought about this and seemed consternated when he couldn't answer immediately. "I guarantee it's only been an hour or two on the surface. I was gone but a month or two, and it felt as if years passed. Everything is different down here, something about the wild magic in it. I don't know, but Halaster probably already knows what happened. He might be dead or imprisoned, but the fact that the drow couldn't get back to this level means he must be alive enough to maintain some kind of control. He sees everything that happens inside. If he's alive, he probably already knows what happened in here. This place is nothing more than a dark reflection of his own crazed imagination."

"I defended myself," Solaufein insisted firmly. "It attacked me! What was I supposed to do?"

"Halaster won't see it that way," I warned. "Just . . . Don't mention it if we find him. And if he brings it up, stick to that. Maybe he'll be lenient. Don't count on it. You might end up spending the rest of your days as a rat, or a pile of soot."

Enserric glowed from the black sword's depths. "Ah, in that case, would one of you be kind enough to take me out of this wretched dungeon in my wielder's place? I should hate to be in the possession of some soot. To be rescued only to get stuck back with those sacks of bones again by the mad wizard would be tortuous, although it would be a slice of thematic irony."

"I'll think about it," I promised.

Solaufein stared at the flesh golem's body for a little while before moving to search for a way out with the rest of us. He pointed out a way down for us and Deekin was able to de-trap and pick the lock on the door. "I still can't believe you killed Berger," I was repeating in disbelief as we descended into the third level. The drow didn't even bother to glare at me, he just kept walking straight ahead. I couldn't deny a thrill at the idea of getting farther into the dungeon. It felt as though we were really making progress . . . Something that I was sure, in my bones, would be halted by something terrible.

I was sure of it. There would be umber hulks around the corner any minute. The further down you went, the worse it got. Durnan had warned me of such the first time I attempted the descent. I didn't know if we'd encounter the rakshasa, but it was possible that we'd circumvented them. I hoped so.

PT 2: SOLAUFEIN

"I hear . . ." Solaufein stared up at the stones on the ceiling as if there was some hidden writing there that might reveal his own thoughts to him. "Ah, what is the word for a word that is a noise?"

Binne's brow scrunched, stretching the gold piercings around the corners of her eyes. "What kind of noise?"

He touched his tongue to palate. "It is like that, but quieter. And many."

She seemed even more confused and looked to Deekin for clarification. "Are their chickens down there?" She wondered incredulously. "I mean, now that I think about it, that does seem like something Halaster would do - guard his lower levels with killer chickens."

It was Solaufein's turn to be confused. "Chicken? No, it is," he repeated the noise a few times rapidly. "Fainter, and soft. Sharper than taps. I would think it is either the faint sounds of mining, or a hook horror."

"Oooh. What be hook horror?" Deekin asked with a gleam in his eye. "But Deekin pretty sure it not be mining. Mining usually done by dwarves and dwarves all kicked out of Undermountain when Halaster roost here."

He didn't have the time to try and figure out how to explain what a hook horror was to a surfacer. "I will describe one to you later."

Binne looked down at the kobold with wide eyes. "You don't think there really are killer chickens, do you? That'd be terrifying. Oh wait, word that's a noise!" Binne's eyes lit up. "Those are onomatopoeia's. Like 'click' or 'clap' or 'hogswoggler!'" Deekin started scratching in his notes.

". . . Yes, I hear click ahead," he warned them after struggling to remember what an onomatopoeia was after giving up on figuring out 'hogswoggler.' His Common had improved rapidly since he'd left Ust'Natha, which is why he often found himself at a loss for words when Binne opened her mouth. Clearly, Common was also not the warlock's mother tongue. That was the only explanation he'd been able to conjure for the bastardizations of language that emerged frequently from her.

"What is it?" Deekin scratched quietly.

"Not dwarves," was all Solaufein could say for certain and disappeared into the shadows to find more. The tunnels felt more like home to him, the longer he spent in them. He wasn't sure if he should worry about that or not, but if Eilistraee truly had a purpose for him here, he could only assume that she was also guiding his steps. He stuck close to the walls and wished for a moment he could find a way to transform that warlock wall-climbing trick into a cloak or a pair of gloves, so he might tunnel-walk.

As Solaufein was fantasizing about outrunning a dhaerow patrol on z'orr tizzin while he donned a spider-cloak and his new boots of haste, he heard the sounds of a trickle of water ahead. It stopped him in his tracks and from behind he could hear the warlock grumble, "why's 'e got to be all mysterious?" A part of him was possessed with the violent urge to run back and throttle her, and then teach her the proper meaning of stealth - or at the very least get Deekin to spell her into silence, but the kobold's reply earned an involuntary chuckle out of him.

"Boss always be a little dramatic," the kobold confided, his voice more or less at the same level. "Deekin think it be an elf thing, they all kinda be like that. Boss be a little better than most about it. Heart be in the right place." The dark elf snorted at Deekin's vote of confidence and crept ahead and found a dug in trench running with water. The marks on the ground struck a chord of familiarity from his past. He felt like he could smell blood and clay, and remembered a peculiar tapping that echoed through the tunnels beneath the Anauroch . . .

The conversation faded further and further as he went ahead, only to meet a dead end. " . . . Was she mean. E's an alright sort, though. Where'd you first meet?"

"That be a good story!" Deekin proceeded to tell a rather summarized series of events of their first encounter, and as Solaufein's eyes scanned in the heat spectrum to find purchase he heard Deekin stop short near the end of his tale at the mention of Drogan. Though the dwarf was long since gone, a part of him was a little touched that Deekin held the old wizard in any fondness; they hadn't exactly met on the best terms or known each other for long. Solaufein still missed the grumpy old dwarf whenever he thought of him, but the thought did not hurt.

He examined a cool spot closely on the wall and detected a hidden passage, clearly man-made. He curiously pressed in with his fingers and heard a faint click and scrape of stone. Part of the wall moved in and slid away into itself and revealed a metal door with a lock he couldn't break without causing an abominable amount of noise that would defeat his entire goal. In the background, he heard Binne change the subject and ask after Deekin's old master.

It didn't take him long to get back, just as the kobold had finished explaining that Tymofarrar had inspired him to be a bard by commanding him to learn magic and tell stories for the white dragon's amusement. "I could hear you at the other end of the cavern," he told to the cross-legged warlock. "You really do not understand what 'stealth' means."

She smiled disarmingly. "Not at all!" She chirped and stood up in one fluid motion. "Father always said that the best possible defense was to be as offensive as possible, but that's an Uthgardt for you."

One of Solaufein's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "You have led a strange life," he observed. "And this explains much about you. Now be silent as we approach."

They were more or less quiet on the way to the door. Deekin immediately started trying to unlock the door and pulled out a set of tools from his pack. He leaned against the wall and waited while the cambion twirled her staff in her hands. He watched carefully as she inevitably fumbled and dropped it, reaching forward with panicked eyes trying to keep it from the ground. He put out his foot and caught the staff on his boot before it hit the ground and kicked it back to her. In the light-less cavern, he could see with his heat vision the blood flushing up to her face. "You can stop fidgeting any time," he informed her politely, and she nodded quickly, holding even her tail still.

Deekin finally opened the door with a click and a satisfied hum, and the door swung inward on thankfully well-oiled hinges. He stepped into the door first with his sword drawn and told them both to stay and be quiet and had Deekin hand him an invisibility potion so he could scout ahead. The clicking had grown louder from the southern part of the passage, but to the north he heard nothing. Certain now that the sound was Formians and possessed of no desire to fight them, he waited until the clicking grew fainter, meaning a patrol must have just passed into adjoining corridor. He hissed for his companions to follow and they made their way north through the winding tunnel until he finally saw a door that was emitting a small amount of heat.

Once more the kobold nodded and stepped up while the warlock stepped back a bit. He remembered the fire trap in the upper dungeon and smiled, knowing she couldn't see it. He'd never met someone so prone to little misfortunes, as if Beshaba had smiled on her birth. The potion wore off by the time Deekin de-fanged the flame trap on the door and managed to open it. "Deekin hear clicking too, and think it be ant-people," the kobold said aloud in a thin scratch. There was no real risk of the enemy overhearing at this point.

Solaufein made an affirmative noise. "I don't want to know," the warlock decided with a head-shake.

The door led down to the next level, and a part of Solaufein felt suspicious that they had made it through so far without any battles or injuries. He was anticipating danger long before he heard the patrol ahead, and practically plastered both of his companions to the wall with his arms to keep them still and quiet. The inconvenience of being unable to convey silent information with finger-signing frustrated him and made him determine that he would soon have to sit the warlock and the bard down and teach them.

He ambled a little far ahead on silent feet and crouched beneath an outcropping of stone to listen. Ahead, he detected two males, one with a crossbow and the other with a longsword and dagger drawn. Their postures were casual and their strides wide and careless; it was apparent that they were not expecting trouble and were overconfident that they could easily dispatch any that came their way. He estimated his chances at killing both of them without one of them warning the others that he heard milling about in the far cavern as minimal and kept his distance.

The two males were laughing softly at something he only half-heard as they approached. From somewhere behind them, he could hear the rapid clap of plate boots on the ground, and the two patrolmen stopped and held still. "You two! Males!" A dhaerow female barked out in Ilythiiri. "You are needed in the lower cavern. Relieve the guards of the insect."

They barked back an uneasy affirmative and the female trounced away. The male muttered something about whips and ambled their way back to their camp. Solaufein crept back to his companions and briefed them on the situation.

"Ambush 'em," Binne supplied with a shrug once he asked for suggestions.

"Deekin could summon bear again," the kobold offered. "Maybe have the scrolls for a few elementals. Ooh! And wand of cloudkill. Deekin wanted to save that in case we ran into umber hulks, but they not be very expensive. D'jinn man might have more for sale."

"I've got a few demons up me sleeves, and a few more up me new trouser-legs," the warlock offered and looked down to the kobold. "I don't have any d'jinns, though. That's a fair sized patrol with just the summons, right?"

Deekin cleared his throat. "How many drow there be, Boss thinks?"

Solaufein estimated in his head. "Standard war-band is nine. I would plan for at least eleven, some with lizard-mounts."

The warlock blinked her amber eyes slowly. "They have pet lizards that they ride? Like . . . cave horses?"

He nodded. "Similar. They walk on any surface as a spider would. The dhaerow ahead have plentiful supplies and are well-entrenched. They are also holding hostages."

They all thought about this for a little while. It was eventually decided that Solaufein would sneak past with an invisibility potion and the piwafwi to hide his body and temperature, while Deekin would blind them with a solar ray and he and the cambion would summon minions to target the spell-casters and keep them from firing anything significant off. Deekin would work on distracting the remaining forces and Binne would try to target any priestesses. She hit Solaufein with her Spider-Walk spell, and he couldn't deny a gleeful part of him greatly enjoyed running above the entire encampment while none of them were the least bit aware.

The distraction hit just as he sneaked past a herd of peaceful rothe. At the end of the long cavern was a rather well-guarded Formian prisoner held in an imprisonment spell. Solaufein assessed the enemy. Two warriors, a bolt-man, and a wizard. The wizard likely held the key to the spell, or it would end with his death. The dark elf decided; drew Enserric in one hand and threw a dagger with another that flew unerringly at the wizard's throat.

He dropped down in front of the startled others; though they were startled, they were still well-trained and reacted quickly. The weapon master (he'd had to reassess) that he had swung Enserric at parried the blow easily and lunged low. Solaufein had to step back, which in boots of speed was really a leap, and targeted the one with the crossbow. He managed to damage the dark elf's weapon by slicing the string, causing a backlash that wounded the bolt-man in the eye and downed him momentarily. The weapon master was close behind and put Solaufein momentarily on the defensive until his experience (or luck) won out and allowed him to pierce his sword through the weapon master's side, catching him by surprise with the death blow. "Ah, drow blood! So piquant!" Enserric crowed, unnecessarily, as Solaufein swung him at the next enemy.

"I should have left you with the liches," Solaufein half-heartedly threatened, drawing his sentient sword through the next swordsman, and finally moving to behead the one with the broken crossbow.

His sword cut quickly down and beheaded the half-blind enemy. "Wielder!" Enserric the Gray mocked. "You wound me. I thought we were becoming friends."

"You are my weapon, and we are not friends," he muttered and walked towards the imprisoned Formian. Enserric huffed.

A buzzing noise bore through his mind like a fly near the shell of his ear. *Friend/Foe* was the thought that entered his awareness with it, but it felt like a question. It also struck him with a protective feeling, and one of mistrust. He looked up to the Formian, whom he now saw was held to the ground by a series of chains that wrapped around its body. It had characteristics the others did not and was much larger than the average - most likely a Queen, he deduced, kept captive so the dhaerow might be able to walk amongst them unmolested. He sheathed his sword, sensing no more danger. "How do I free you?" He asked her aloud.

She seemed relieved and clicked involuntarily. *Dark elf/Magic/Hand/Lever/Glow* - the words spliced through with the images of the Formian's memories of the dark elven wizard who had held her captive and killed many of her people, enslaving them against their wills. A feeling of regret and violation accompanied the memories. He was unbothered at the thought of her rifling through his mind in the same way; he had nothing to hide in there. Nearby he found a lever, just out of the Queen's reach, and it took some effort to move. The chains slithered away with a clank, perplexing him as to how long these dark elves had been trapped there in the time-warp that was Undermountain, that they had constructed such an elaborate imprisonment system. The queen tentatively stepped out of the circle once she was freed, and then stepped further with relief when she realized the glow of the magic was gone.

"Will you tell your people not to attack mine?" He asked, not wanting another disaster like the one over the dead Bedine guide to happen. The images and sensations of his memories, along with the mental images of his two companions entered his mind, and he knew the Queen picked up on it from the twitching of her mandibles.

*Safe/Travel/Friend/Warn/Victory/Return* It seemed a kind of telepathic goodbye, with images of warm cocoons and nectar and a feeling of harmony - but soon enough the queen had disappeared through a side passage he hadn't even realized was there and stared after with wide eyes, as two Formians dug up through the ground and the queen descended into the hole. He stared only for a moment at the bizarre sight before running toward the sounds of continuing battle.

In the thick of it, at least seven different Deekins of varying translucency and color were running about raising hell and creating magical distractions. He couldn't see the bard, most likely spelled himself back into invisibility to stay out of the line of fire of the warriors with crossbows that were freely firing poison bolts wildly into the fray. A fire elemental and a large air were keeping a group of them occupied and keeping one priestess distracted. Another diviner uttered an incantation and pointed at Binne in a spell that must have backfired or unaffected her, for all it did was make the cambion's tail twitch before she hurled an entropic bolt right at the priestess' head. It almost hit Solaufein who was some distance behind her when she dodged it, so rather than wait he ran forward and speared the dark elven woman through the chest from behind as she attempted to dodge the bolt.

"Watch your aim," he suggested to Binne as he let the priestess fall off of his blade. He ran for the nearest wall before he could hear her reply and slipped behind a few archers, only half-hearing what she shouted after him.

That was the last thing he remembered in that cavern.

There was no pain, just darkness that washed over him when he inevitably slipped into reverie. He kept seeing a woman's face - of his race with eyes the color of a robin's egg. Memories flashed by like fireflies and were swiftly forgotten upon waking. For a time, he stood in the sun in Saradush, and then under the moon in Tethyr, and then in Ust'Natha in the foyer of House Despana. Ardulace was sneering down at him, commanding him and before knew it he was divested of his clothes and whipped by a passionless, hollow-eyed Phaere performing under her mother's careful gaze. He felt the pain of wounds whose scars had disappeared, when he had been re-made by the Reaper, and found his mind again traipsing back to Drogan's wintry cottage atop Hilltop's namesake. Quietly, in this semi-reverie, Solaufein wandered down familiar halls and toward the town, stopping by Fearghus' den as he felt a pang of regret at the destruction he had once left behind to the peaceful little village. When he turned to look back at Hilltop, it was aflame.

He suddenly came to and immediately felt a searing pain in the back of his head, drawing an involuntary hiss from his closed lips. He became first aware of the fact that his hands were bound behind him, then that he was sitting up right, and then that he and the cambion were bound together back-to-back with silken rope and had several weapons pointed at him by the enemy patrol that had ambushed them. His senses took in his surroundings, and he knew that they had not been moved far, nor did he experience the disconcerting feeling of lost time. He decided that he most likely had been knocked out by brute force and caught unawares and cursed under his breath at his own recklessness. Eilistraee guided his fate, not his follies. Those had always belonged only to him.

His eyes sought out a commanding officer. A female in red chain and dark plate-mail stood closest to him, with an eager male spell-slinger at her side in robes. She stared down contemptuously at the both of them, assessing him just as he was assessing her. His hands clenched and flexed, straining against the spider silk.

"Ah already tried that," Binne said from behind him with a morbid cheer. Her voice vibrated through both of them. "Can't reach 'em with me claws without hurting both o' us. You sods are as good with your knots as sailors. You'd make great pirates. Ever thought of a career change?" She was addressing their captors, but none of them responded to her.

His eyes never left the female. She was the most dangerous, with a long practical braid binding back her white-gold hair from a sharp gaze the color of rose quartz. She alone quietly assessed with her gaze as compared to the mindless hateful glowering they received from the others at weapon's edge. "Your companions will die before you do," the red armored woman promised him in a light voice in their mother tongue. As before with the scouts, he experienced an odd nostalgia at the sound of familiar words from a stranger's voice. Her hand strayed near the whip at her hip, but not a serpentine one that he expected. It was a single rope of some deep, blood-red substance and littered with tiny razors woven in. It was built for pain, but not by Lloth. "If you try to escape in any way or do anything that I do not tell you to do, they will suffer immensely. I think you understand this now," she assured him.

His eyes sought out Enserric and saw his own sword resting on the female's hip. His disgust at the sight was unmistakable. In Common more to irritate his fellows than for Binne or Deekin's benefit, he spat out, "I do not take commands from a spider-whore that even Lloth has abandoned."

Antagonizing females was something of a talent of his. He'd had many centuries to hone this particular skill. The priestess' whip was around his throat within the next blink, drawing rivulets of blood out from beneath where it cut through the surface of his skin. Though he struggled to breathe, there was a certain satisfaction to the feeling her reaction got him. He wanted to laugh at her instinctive, predictable reply, but he was choking. Behind him, he heard the cambion cry out, "Oi, hey, you didn't tell him not to call you a spider-whore, now did you?!" She seemed genuinely upset, as if she didn't understand that they couldn't kill him if they wanted him alive. He would've lectured her if he could breathe. "Now that's your own bloody fault for not being specific enough! 'Sides, y-you can't expect him to—"

"I commanded you to be silent!" The priestess screeched, still in Ilythiiri. Her whip left Solaufein's neck and cracked against a part of the girl behind him that he couldn't see. Though he did not regret his remark, he regretted her defense of it. Binne had brought it on herself, though. The choking sounds and labored breaths did alarm him, and he thought of any way he could rectify the situation without causing more harm to the both of them.

"Your slaves are incredibly obstinate," the wizard standing next to the priestess informed Solaufein. He spoke casually, even confidentially, which seemed to irritate the female greatly. Great must have been his power also, for she did not back-hand the wizard immediately after he opened his mouth without being addressed. The wizard pointed at the gurgling cambion. "That one mouthed off considerably before we figured out that all we had to do was whip the kobold to keep her silent," he went on. It was decades of discipline that let Solaufein contain his rage at hearing this.

"You have nothing to fear from her. If I find out that you have hurt that kobold, I will the one to break you," Solaufein promised to anyone within ear shot. "All she will probably do is watch and criticize my technique." Binne started giving out a choked, garbled laugh that sounded painful but warmly amused him to his core. It was deeply, viscerally relieving that even in such dire circumstance they could still bring out the humor in one another. He doubted he'd ever find another abbil of her like and prayed silently to his goddess that she would survive this failure.

The priestess grabbed Solaufein's attention by bending down to his level and literally seizing his hair to tilt his head so she might gaze in his eyes. The whip eased off of Binne's neck and he felt himself shift backward as the cambion took deep breaths that inadvertently tightened the ropes around both of them. The priestess' glare tried to bore its way into him, but it found a wall within him that could not be surmounted. She did not seem to like what she saw, and there was a resignation in her bearing that seemed out of place on one of Lloth's. "Then it is lucky for you that he is still alive," the priestess hissed. "If keeping them will warrant your cooperation, then you will be responsible for them. Any actions they take will be used upon you, just as anything you do wrong they will be punished for. Another obstinate word out of the demoness' mouth, and I will strip it from your hide. If you cannot keep your slaves in line, then we will kill them. Do you understand, male?"

She was impersonal about it, at least. Despite invading his space, there was no real malice behind the female's voice. Only a resolve, hardened by a weary edge. All the priestesses he had met were eager to punish, even took joy in it. It was clear she took no joy in her work any longer and had grown weary of it. How long they had been down there away from their overseers he did not know, but he felt satisfied that at least their company suffered many losses before they overcame him. "We will comply," he said in clear and loud Common, for Binne and Deekin's benefit.

The female stepped back with satisfaction written on her face and ordered that they be untied.

He and Binne were then separated. They were stripped of all of their gear, though apparently it didn't occur to them to take his boots. He counted that as a small grace, though wondered if it had something to do with the relic he kept in there. Using it would be too dangerous with no surefire guarantee that he could take the others with him and would defeat the point of freeing themselves as it would alert the priestess to the artifact's existence. It seemed to him they had no choice but to continue where the patrol would lead them and wait for the right moment.

Immediately upon being separated, they were marched by a few swordsmen and seated while the rest of the group seemed to be breaking down a makeshift camp for travel. A crossbow and drawn sword were kept near their throats at all times. It was hours of silence before the priestess returned and commanded them to follow her at the head of the group, while a few scouts on mounts traveled a ways ahead to ascertain dangers.

The cambion was fairly mute after she tried to goad the priestess again during this sedate march, and the entire party was stopped so that Solaufein could be whipped. He was stripped of armor and held on his knees and did not bother to display any signs of protest. He took the punishment without flinching or a word of complaint, but he saw that Binne flinched with each strike. Her tail betrayed her, always, although her face was impassive.

The priestess was insistent that she watch the consequences of her behavior, and she didn't cry which he was grateful for - he'd seen her tears before and had been very unsure of what to do about them at the time. Crying wasn't something he'd been fortunate enough to witness often in his life. Uniquely, it struck him as a very human thing for Binne to do; feeling the pain of another being was considered a mental illness punishable by transformation into dothkarn amongst his people. The irony of that amused him and kept him through the pain in his back while they marched further into the tunnels, now looking increasingly like old duergar or svirfneblin mines.

The priestess didn't bother healing him until a day later, and he didn't complain. He even said thank you, which irritated her and amused him.

The warlock hadn't liked what he'd translated of the priestess' words to her, in a rare moment where they were all allowed to eat and sit next to one another under guard. Deekin, he saw, was bound, and kept still by only one bored looking crossbowman most of the time. He didn't know how they'd injured the kobold, but he swore to take it out on their captors tenfold if they had. He prayed to Eilistraee that they would not get bored and try to eat Deekin.

Their captors rarely spoke to them, and indeed rarely spoke with one another. The atmosphere was tense and even the commander seemed affected; she was not so much ill-tempered as accustomed to authority and saw hesitation as disobedience. There were about fifteen in the entire company that had been waiting as back-up for the force they'd overwhelmed. Solaufein felt foolish for jumping in, wondering if freeing the Formian Queen was even worth it. He didn't have much time to police his conscience, however. The priestess marched them and was stern on any infraction.

She unbound him completely to his frustration and blatantly kept his sword on full view after the first few days or so. Time began to blur, and he was reminded of Binne's words back in the lava-chamber he'd found her in, about time 'running' in Undermountain. It seemed to stretch around them, minutes perhaps lengthening into hours. Would it turn days to weeks? Months? Contemplation of this implication distracted him from fantasizing about ways to kill the priestess. Her hand never strayed to his sword, preferring the whip. He was kept within close eyes of the wizard at all times. Binne and Deekin were kept separated from him while they traveled, a little away from the group. They were allowed small meal breaks and given water sparingly.

For days they traveled, resting for no more than four hours a time before marching on. He was no longer certain that they were in Undermountain at all, and not in the Underdark as the passages grew darker. Occasionally they would stop and always send scouts on z'orr tizzin.

The wizard had also developed some manner of unnatural interest in him and kept trying to goad him into conversation. The attempts grew increasingly uncomfortable and escalated into Solaufein enduring the wizard's advances before finally the priestess had to shout at him to shut up, which seemed to momentarily phase the spell-caster. He didn't know the wizard's name and had no desire to; he simply ignored the man and remained aloof, knowing that this at least was something he could control. The warlock took it upon herself to start goading the wizard rather than the priestess, which the commander didn't seem to mind. Perhaps it was the language barrier; neither her nor the wizard seemed to speak any Common. It seemed to work at distracting the spell-caster, which was a bit of a relief for Solaufein.

He hadn't had a moment to himself at all and time continued to run away from them. Between the brutal pace they had set, the limited rest, and the endless punishments, his mind drifted. He was satisfied that his captors seemed only slightly less weary than he. If he slept, or pissed, or shat, or ate, someone seemed to always be there at all times to make sure he didn't do anything threatening. He suspected that they were trying to break him in some way; it didn't really bother him to be observed in intimate moments, but it made any attempts at escape or communication inconvenient.

At mealtime, he saw a moment when Deekin was sat next to him by his guard. The kobold looked tired and had a few bruises that seemed to be healing - and smelled a little of fear, but it seemed to dissipate when he sat next to Solaufein. "Hi, Boss," he scratched quietly, almost brokenly.

Solaufein feigned pain and reached into his boot. "Hold on. There is a rock in my boot." His guard hadn't even glanced at him, both of them clearly having better things to do than guard the hostages. He pulled out the tiny stone and tossed it into Deekin's lap. The kobold's eyes widened, but he otherwise betrayed nothing. Deekin, to Solaufein's chagrin, immediately decided to hide it in his mouth. It wasn't ideal and wasn't the place Solaufein would have chosen, and it made him grimace. At least it was still hidden, he decided, and he knew that Deekin knew well how to activate it in the event of an absolutely life-threatening emergency. No matter who activated it, it would only transport Solaufein (or anyone touching him and/or the relic, so Deekin in this case), but it had its advantages. They'd used it on occasion when in desperate need of a place to rest in Undermountain, or to store items they'd otherwise not desire to carry, since the Reaper didn't seem to mind anything much. He knew his people would underestimate Deekin and if the kobold could activate it, he would be able to find a stock of healing potions there, at the very least. Deekin had even managed to teach the creature how to play checkers one evening, so if they all died at least the Reaper would keep him company.

He just prayed the little bard didn't decide to swallow the relic. Then they'd be well and truly fucked, as Binne would say. An unpleasant mental image came to mind when he thought of the commander's pet wizard that seemed to have taken to giving him longing looks whenever possible.

'WIELDER!' A voice pierced through Solaufein's thoughts with enough force that it made him visibly wince. 'Oh, sorry. Hopefully, that's better. Ahem!'

They had been marching for three days. They used their lizards exclusively for scouting ahead, so their progress was slow. The priestess was ahead and he'd been watching her carefully since the only other thing to stare at was rock, or the wizard that was creepily staring at him. The sword at her hip had his attention suddenly as he recognized the voice as belonging to Enserric.

'Yes!' The voice confirmed. 'Don't say anything. I can hear you. Been trying to figure out how to reach you for a while now. Wait, how long's it been? Never mind that.' Solaufein couldn't help but wonder at the sword's array of abilities. It stole life and bestowed it to the wielder, had an entire personality, was permanently sharp, and now apparently telepathic. 'Yes, that's fairly new to me as well, but I think it's because you're my wielder and you picked me up after my old one died. Not entirely sure. Anyway, just wanted to alert you that we're being followed.'

Subtly he felt his gaze turn behind him, only to unfortunately meet the eyes of the wizard. He shuddered. 'I can sense them, not sure just how yet, but I'm sure they're there. When they attack, if they do, please don't leave me with this heinous woman. That's all I can ask. Her mind is hideous.' Solaufein wondered how his mind compared. 'Well yours is quite terrible too, but in a clever way. Or at least a productive way, and besides, we have fun killing together, don't we?'

The sword had a strange idea of fun. Solaufein was a little paranoid after that but schooled his feelings carefully so as to betray nothing to their captors. He dared not tell the warlock because he knew within a second of meeting her the first time that she was utterly incapable of lying but managed to whisper to Deekin to 'wait' in a way that sounded enough like a light cough that no one was the wiser. He hoped the kobold understood that he wasn't to use the relic quite yet. Deekin wasn't always the best on picking up subtleties, but he'd gotten much better since the days of their first meeting in the dilapidated shop near Hilltop.

It was hours before the slog stopped. He felt wearier than he normally did, most likely due to the lack of nutrition, and noted that the commander was the only one who appeared to be unruffled. An effect of a spell, no doubt. He had one such that would give him surpassing strength for a time but had to wait to use it until the right occasion - when poisoned bolts weren't pointed at his allies. In a cavern that was potentially days and days away from their initial entrance into Underdark from the mad dungeon, they were placed down and had all of their hands bound again.

"Ah, there you are," said an uncomfortably familiar voice in Ilythiiri. Solaufein did not turn his head to acknowledge his captor; the wizard was alone this time, as was he. His guard was nowhere to be seen, and they were a ways away from the others. It wasn't possible for Solaufein to be unnerved - that weakness had been removed from him as a child - no, he was only annoyed. The wizard annoyed him a lot. "Must I enchant you to get your attention? Or shall I borrow Akordia's whip? You were so entertaining after we punished the demoness." The snide voice continued from somewhere over his left shoulder.

Solaufein was unable to suppress a sigh at his own ill fortune and felt justifiably livid when he recalled the incident that the wizard had referred to. The wizard had attempted to touch him before, and Solaufein had reacted by head-butting him in the nose. The wizard confirmed then to be some sibling or relative of the priestess whined with his bloodied nose.

Solaufein's unorthodox punishment for defiance and hurting the creep once the priestess divined the nature of the assault was to be sodomy - taken out on the defiant cambion while Solaufein would be forced to witness. The priestess he knew now to be named Akordia had promised that any of his infractions would be taken out upon his abbin, and vice versa. Akordia had held Solaufein's head back by his hair and placed Enserric's against his neck while one of her swordsmen raped Binne Ofgren a few feet in front of him.

Binne had started clawing at her attacker as soon as she could, and was restrained, pacified only a little when they threatened to cut off her tail. Then she'd started criticizing her rapist's technique with very colorful language and went on with lurid descriptions and suggestions for some time, which had caused Solaufein to inadvertently let out a startled laugh that had also been taken out on her as punishment in the form of a gag and six lashes after the whole thing was over. Binne had been quiet for a while after that and had remained so until recently, although it pleased him that she still goaded anyone who man-handled her whenever she could. Whenever she did, it was Solaufein who was punished. He had taken the abuse gladly, complaining that they couldn't take care of the itch on his back each time.

At the moment as the wizard approached, he distantly recalled a conversation with Viconia De'Vir en route to Athkatla about human sexuality. Both of the Underdark natives found people on the surface to be very peculiar; consent was defined, in his society, as a matter for females to decide for themselves. They selected whomever they chose. They did not care what males did on their own, and it was fairly normal for men at arms to seek release with one another. Only amongst allies that you could at least trust as far as you could throw them. Certainly not amongst captives. Those who lay with slaves (rothe) or hostages were deemed too pathetic or too ugly to secure their desires elsewhere.

It was not uncommon as a punishment however but considered himself fortunate that the commander was only creative, not bloodthirsty. He also wasn't sure if he should consider it a compliment or grave insult that this wizard had gone far out of his way to arrange an alone moment with his favored captive. He was grateful, in a way, because finally the wizard had allowed himself to be alone with Solaufein, giving him the perfect time to strike.

"You disgrace yourself," Solaufein finally said after forcing his admirer to endure a moment of uncomfortable silence. This time, he did look at the wizard because he wanted to see the expression on his face, and he was rewarded with a seething rage that made him chuckle. It was the same words that the commander in red had reprimanded to the wizard not a day earlier, after the man had responded to one of Binne's goading comments literally explosively. "Xa'huuli jaluk," he added, and actually grinned when the spell-caster flushed in anger.

"Remember whose mercy you are at now," the mage seethed, and grabbed Solaufein's hair to yank his head back. He allowed the touch and prayed the wizard would lean in just a little bit closer . . .

Solaufein's ear twitched as he heard a distant scuttle from the wrong end of the cavern. Enserric's warning sprang to his mind; the wizard had heard the same noise, possessed of the same hearing, and began to mutter another spell under his breath. Solaufein's hands remained bound to his chagrin, so - out of options - he leapt up from his position and head-butted the wizard in the nose again.

He felt like the idiot deserved it after trying the same thing twice, and grinned as the robed dark elf cried out in pain as blood streamed from his face. Before he could shout an alarm, the warrior was on top of him with hands clenched around the other male's throat. "Why is it always wizards?" he snorted derisively in Ilythiiri as the male fled into unconsciousness with some struggle; he'd let his guard down for the second time in his arrogance and suffered the result. Anyone this helpless and malicious wouldn't survive long in the Underdark anyway.

Solaufein maintained his grip and cocked his head to listen closely to the sounds of crossbows letting loose and swords being drawn behind him in the cavern. No one seemed to have noticed what was going on with the mage, at least, because a battle had begun and someone had discovered their fellows dead and raised an alarm. Whatever had been following them had chosen the ideal moment to attack. His white-knuckled grip eventually resulted in a cracking noise from the wizard's throat, snapping the bone and causing it to pierce the man's windpipe. The male abruptly came back into consciousness only to slowly asphyxiate to death on his own blood. Solaufein, feeling relieved, calmly stood up and rifled through the flailing spell-caster's clothes for something to cut his ropes with.

He discovered a boot-knife and began severing his silken bonds, thankful that the blade was adamantine and could cut through the thick spider-silk with some struggle. He heard a distant cry that sounded like Deekin's voice, and an enraged shout in an abyssal tongue from the warlock just as he worked at least one of his hands free. Finally, he ran along the edge of the cavern with the knife and assessed the situation.

The party of fifteen had been reduced to eleven - three scouts lay dead with their throats slit. Who was on whose side was a little harder to determine since the attacks appeared to also be perpetrated by dark elves. His friend Deekin, he could find no trace of. He focused on finding his allies and sensed, rather than saw, the warlock battling the priestess to the north. The entropic energy was unmistakable and typically ran over his mind like a cold feather, palpable even at a distance. The priestess, Akordia, was chanting over the din of the battle just as a flaming column flew out of her hands and nailed one of the attacking dark elves in the chest, sending a black-cloaked and black-armored female out of an invisibility spell mid-flight, and hitting a spot on the floor near the concealed and rather startled Solaufein.

The one who was struck was a female dhaerow of lithe build in armor that seemed to shelter her from both spectrums. Solaufein barely had time to duck as she was sent flying by the spell and slammed into the cavern wall, winded and injured, but certainly not dead. Solaufein, feeling like it was the right thing to do, knelt next to the woman and turned her over. She winced in pain and did not seem to see him. He spared but a moment to heal her wounds with a quick spell before apologizing and dropping a globe of darkness over them both. The female cried out his own name to him, "Solaufein, nau!" which startled him again (he wasn't exactly famous amongst his people) but did not stop him from making a beeline toward the red-plated commander. He knew that she had Enserric, and she'd been the one holding Enserric to his neck while they'd violated his undeserving friend in front of him, so she was the primary target. She would die in pain if he had any say in it.

When he exited the globe he used the haste enchantment on his boots to his full advantage. At least seven warriors, including the female he had healed were attacking the dark elven party, along with an earth elemental and familiar dire wolf that he assumed was at Deekin's command since the priestess was busy. The bard was still nowhere to be seen, however, perhaps having already spelled himself into invisibility. He was vaguely disappointed that Deekin had either chosen not to or been unable to activate the relic, but it would hardly be a good time now in the thick of battle. Binne, on the other hand, didn't know how to be invisible or didn't seem to care and was throwing spear after spear made of seething, cold necrotic energy at the priestess, whose spelled armor seemed to protect her. It was enough to distract the priestess from further spell-casting, but the action left the lone warlock completely open to attacks from behind.

He darted around the combat between his captors and the enemy dark elves and saw a swordsman try one such attack and threw his dagger at the offender, nailing the male right in the chest. Upon examining the male's face when he leapt forward and kicked the knife and driving it further in, he realized this had been the male that had been instructed to violate Binne, and he was pleased with himself for the kill. He reached quickly down to rip the dagger out and sliced through the throat.

An arterial spray coated him in blood and alerted the warlock to his presence, though she did not cease in her attack. "It's a good day to die, innit?" Binne chirped and let out a grunt of effort as she tried to form her energy into a whip and sent it at the enraged Akordia. It lashed back and forth, driving the priestess back, but not harming her to the cambion's great frustration.

"Let us switch," he suggested, and they changed positions as he faced the priestess down. A spell let loose from the warlock's arsenal and collided with two crossbow men who began to clutch their heads and scream in fear or agony, it wasn't certain. The distraction earned them swift deaths by crushing from the nearby elemental.

The priestess in red, Akordia, glared at him and lowered her shield and whip. "Jaluk," she hissed. "Og'elend ulu udossta dazzan!" Was her battle cry before she leapt forward with Enserric in her hands.

"Hey!" The sword cried out. "That's my wielder, you ridiculous woman!" He dodged a rather slow and lazy strike from the priestess and, more to irritate than injure her, kicked at the back of her knee. Enserric seemed to be doing his best to make the fight difficult and lengthened himself, making himself a great deal heavier than the priestess was used to, to her frustration. Solaufein's knee-blow struck but did not fell her and only increased her rage. "Don't you know the first thing about vampiric swords? They don't work on their bound wielders! You know you'll only hurt yourself with your ignorance, you daft bint!" The sword went on in a lecturing tone.

She glared down at the weapon in her hands and kept swinging at Solaufein who easily dodged. Finally she abandoned her shield and tossed it to the ground, switching the talkative sword to her off hand and grabbed her vicious whip in the other. Enserric kept lecturing her the entire time and started cursing her in several different languages. She pretended well that it did not bother her, but her impatience had begun to make her movements predictable. Each time she attempted to go for the kill and missed him completely, drawing louder and more volatile complaints from Enserric.

Solaufein anticipated her move for it was one that Imrae had often resorted to when the Handmaiden was feeling most impatient with him. Not to mention that this particular female had done it before while he was tied up when she had accidentally let her anger slip in front of him. Though it was common for females to use an off-hand weapon and whip at the same time, it was not as common for them to hone their physical combat abilities, and they usually chose to hide behind enchanted armor and spells. For those ordained in Lloth's temple, Lloth herself was their only necessary shield. Her favor was all they needed to be safe, and her disfavor meant death. The whip cracked through the air toward Solaufein's throat but struck his outstretched arm instead and wrapped around it. The dynamic abruptly changed, and a trickle of fear prickled at Akordia's eyes.

Akordia frowned. Solaufein grinned and pulled the whip, spinning forward in a blur of footwork to wrap the whip further and further up his arm - minding not the razors, pain, or blood trailing down his arm - until he was but a few footfalls from her. A spell loosed from her lips a little too late as she let go of the whip allowing the handle to fall into Solaufein's own hand and stepped back. She tried to stab close at Solaufein with the gleaming black blade now that his guard was down.

Solaufein allowed the female her strike, unhindered by his presence as he merely stepped to the side and she stabbed at empty air. He pulled on her grip and sent the elbow that that the whip had wound around right to her unarmored face, hitting her in the nose.

Her arrogant expression changed to one of pain as she fell backward and Enserric fell from her grip. With both of her weapons gone, she was about to get desperate. Before she could let off another spell he let the whip fall from his arm and gripped it, cracking it out towards her head. Akordia's armored arm predictably went up to her throat to give her room to breathe within the whip's grip, which left her side vulnerable to a sword. Enserric pierced through her armpit and the startled Akordia fell to her knees as the red within the black blade pulsed, reacting to the life's blood it had stolen. "Nau . . ." Was her last utterance before the blade in her heart drained the last of her life.

Solaufein shivered, but nonetheless felt rejuvenated as a slick, uncomfortable feeling washed over his entire body. His half-healed lacerations and lashes over the past few days seemed completely healed. Though it almost felt like a barrel of snakes had been upended upon him. He kicked the dead female off of his sword, tearing it free and took a deep breath to shake the feeling off. "Enserric," he uttered curtly.

"Yeees?" The sword chimed in a happy tone.

"Thank you." After all, if it had not been for the spirit's warning, he might never have escaped captivity. "Can you sense how many enemies are left?" Several globes of darkness had fallen over the battlefield, and the warlock had taken to hiding behind a boulder and cursing under her breath. Deekin was still nowhere to be seen, but there was now a suspicious large dire wolf running about and knocking over enemies here and there, howling distractingly. Solaufein felt more alive than he had in a long time, thanks mostly to the sword's enchantment - and revenge was always sweet to taste.

"I believe at least five," Enserric finally decided after some deliberation.

"At least," the dark elf drolled.

His sword spluttered. "Don't judge me! The magic in the air has my signal all jumbled!"

Solaufein shook his head, not understanding at all, and ran over to Binne. She perked up at the sight of him, but he could smell the fear off her, even as it began to evaporate at his approach. He passed her the whip he'd taken from the priestess without a word to her hand, having seen her use one made of energy and knowing that she was at least less incompetent with it than she was with the staff that they'd lost track of in their capture. "What—" she was about to say, but he put up a hand to stall the cambion's remark, pointed up, and leapt out into the darkness.

Two weapon masters remained, and two of the attackers lay dead. Solaufein distracted one while he left his flank open to a few arrows from the enemy scouts, which slowed his movements down enough for Enserric to get in a few good slashes. It did not deter the weapon master's determination, and he appeared to experience a second wind when he dropped his own globe of darkness on top of Solaufein's head. Solaufein dodged out and away from the circle and went around, but the warlock beat him to it - the ceiling was far enough away from the spell that it didn't affect her eyesight or other senses, and a whip cracked down from above that successfully dragged the surprised weapon master by the leg out of the globe and deposited him in front of Solaufein's feet. He gave a quick salute to his a'temra on the ceiling after he beheaded his startled enemy. He paid no mind to the mess that sprayed out from the neck as the elf's body collapsed, still coasting as he was on Enserric's bloody rejuvenation.

The last enemy died rather suddenly as his assassin appeared spelled out of invisibility from behind him - a female in the leather armor who let her foe fall from her blade in dispassion. The one that he had healed (more or less upon instinct and not really out of logic) had finally rejoined the fight to end it. Her eyes remained fixed on Solaufein even as she killed; he was more concerned about finding his companions, since the other dark elves didn't seem to be a threat.

"Deekin?" Solaufein called out, whipping around to try and find the kobold with infra-vision. His eyes swept over a gray expanse dotted with the curling heat signatures of their unexpected allies - he cursed under his breath when he remembered that kobolds were cold-blooded. "It is safe, they are all dead."

"Deekin?" Came the responding scratch which caused his heart to swell with relief. Out from behind one of the tents, the kobold padded forward on the back of the large, tongue-lolling dire wolf. "Battle be finally over?" He asked in barely expressed relief.

Solaufein nodded tiredly and slumped down to the ground when a wave of exhaustion swept over him. He swatted at a bloody lock of white (now pink) hair that fell into his eyes. They had been marching for days on little food or water, all three of them, and had just fought in a tense and unexpected battle for their lives. Enserric's enchantment had given him a brilliant second wind, but now the bone-deep exhaustion was starting to set in. "We need to strip the camp," he realized wearily.

The cambion plopped down quietly beside the three from the ceiling into a protected roll and came to a seat beside him. She assessed his condition with wary eyes as she batted her wild, long hair out of her face. "You alright?" she asked brusquely.

Solaufein assessed her haggard appearance in turn and his tongue stilled as he was about to ask her the same question. Her eyes were bright and expression concerned. She did not appear to be different, or changed, though he supposed they all must look a little different. More worn maybe, hair slightly longer, dirtier, and a little harder in the eyes. Time was ill-measured in Undermountain; how long had they been prisoners? What perhaps was days had felt like weeks. He sensed that there would be long-term changes for her yet in store that aroused from these events. For him, it was as if he had walked into his old life and felt right at home despite his conscience disagreeing. Even Deekin, though yet fairly young, had experienced many great and terrible things in his life even after he earned his freedom from Tymofarrar. For Binne who was as much a mystery as an open book, he wondered if it felt more like stepping into a different world. Her nature had proven adaptable so far and had no reason to believe that she would fail to adjust.

He instead nodded, choosing to trust that she would tell him about any concerns she deemed important. Binne seemed to crave guidance most, which he could offer. "You and Deekin search for food, water, any supplies. Strip anything of value you see. There should be plenty of healing potions, and the wolf might be able to sniff out traps."

His tired companions exchanged a weary glance but nodded and went about his request. Binne's legs easily kept up with the wolf-straddled Deekin as they went to quick work looting first the bodies of valuables and piling them in the center of the room. He watched for a little while, amused as they appeared to struggle to get some scale male off of one of the archers, the effort sending Deekin flying back onto his backside and Binne flying back with the mail in hand, still attached to one of the arms of the archer. She screamed achingly high and threw it off, before appearing to reconsider her action and then took up the severed arm to chase Deekin around for laughing at her, with Deekin screeching until they wore themselves out quickly.

The other dark elves that had survived milled about, recovering from minor injuries, and taking care of their own dead. There were three on their side that had fallen - two archers and a scout, it seemed. He considered using his rod to resurrect those allies that had fallen, but did not know their true intention, and remained ambivalent on the matter. Solaufein waited for a moment to see if the black-clad female would approach him, or if he would have to approach her. She continued staring at him after tending to her surviving companions. He was struck by the obvious concern she showed for them, knowing it was unbecoming of a female in command to do so. It did not take the female long to make up her mind as she nervously stepped forward. Her hand remained near her short sword at all times, but her bearing was measured and careful.

Now that he had seen the quiet female move, it made him wonder at her training. She was not, nor could be, one of the priestesses of Lloth - for she moved too much like a hunter of the dark. Like him. Warily, quietly, and quickly. Her expression was a careful, indifferent mask as impenetrable as his own.

His hand reflexively twitched to his sword when he acknowledged her presence. The dhaerow woman's shoulders were tense, and she remained battle ready. He waited for her to say something, but she said nothing. "Since you have not tried to kill me yet, I presume you are not my enemy," he uttered in quiet Common. "You must forgive me, for I keep my hand on my sword. We have traveled many days and known nothing but enemies. Maybe a mad dryad," he reconsidered. "One very strange goblin," he added. "And I suppose upstairs is where I met Binne. Oh, and the ogre."

She responded with a curiously courteous bow that he'd never seen a dhaerow perform before. It seemed an almost noble gesture. "Usstan hass'l dos nau jivviim," she greeted formally in an even, calming voice and held up her hands without their weapons (though they remained sheathed at her side for quick access).

Solaufein allowed his hand to stray away from Enserric but remained seated less out of a desire to be impolite and more because his legs didn't seem to want to move on their own anymore. He felt leaden, glued to the ground. "How long have you been tracking them?" He continued in Common more or less for his companions' benefit, knowing that at least Binne could hear him in the cavern and would be able to respond if the encounter turned combative.

"We've been tracking you," she revealed. Her voice was clear in any language it seemed, and her accent was very faint, but her pronunciation distinctive enough that he could tell she was no surfacer. She probably spoke the language better than him, though, given he'd only had about a decade of learning compared to her lifetime and had given up on trying to get rid of his accent. Where she came from and her intentions were in question, but she was clearly the leader of this band. Her right, as a female.

"Who sent you?" He demanded.

"Not the Valsharess," was all she would say on the matter. "She has many enemies, and we are but a few. What you need to know is that she has personally targeted and named you and desires your capture. We do not exactly know why. I was instructed to find and ask you to help me find Halaster and free him however possible, in exchange for an offer of our aide to help protect you from the Valsharess."

He stared at her, thinking of Veldrin. This one was similarly young in appearance by his people's standards, and he gathered that he must have at least two centuries over her. It was in the eyes, mostly - humans had the luxury of appearing the age that they were and changing over years, while the only way to determine an elf's age was in the eyes, which always betrayed them. They were on the pale side of red and were bright, cautious, but curious - and that curiosity was shining openly when she looked at him. She seemed at least as sincere as her blade, and like it, she was undoubtedly sharp. He doubted very much she could offer protection that he could not offer himself. "What is your name?" He asked politely, deciding this female deserved deference.

"I am Nathyrra." She nodded, her silver hair shaking forward and back.

He pointed vaguely at the other end of the cavern where he could hear Binne and Deekin arguing over some enchanted goods they found and he identified. "You know my name. Over there are my abbin, Binne and Deekin. I was asked by the Lords of Waterdeep to look into Halaster's disappearance. Our capture here was unexpected, and the rescue needed. I am in your debt. I will not stand for you, for I am weary."

She frowned and looked away. When she looked back, her eyes were less bright. "There is no debt. You saved my life if you recall." He waved it off. "We have some supplies, if the camp here is lacking, for you to replenish yourself. I intend to send my people back to our outpost and travel now with you myself to find Halaster. The enemy's z'orr tizzin were uninjured in the battle," and with this she paused and gestured towards the mounts of the scouts that had remained largely undisturbed throughout the battle. They were well broken and used to gore. "My intent was to use them so that we might gain back some of the time you've lost."

He eyed the lizards contemplatively. Freeing Halaster seemed such a far off goal that it made him wonder how much time he had utterly lost. "You know of the one they call Valsharess," he stated.

Nathyrra nodded. "I know much about her, and her forces. I will tell you what I can once we free Halaster. He must be the priority, because he is the only one who can close this surface entrance into Waterdeep for good."

"It is a title for the Spider Bitch," he commented lightly. Nathyrra's gaze did not move from his. She did not nod, or flinch, and appeared to have no love for Lloth. This, he considered, was as alarming as it was a relief. Nathyrra was either sincere or an excellent actress, and the latter was more likely.

He sensed and smelled the cambion before she approached, coming to a stop by his left shoulder. "Mayhap rethink that plan o' yours. Halaster's as mad as a hatter and probably madder still now that Solaufein killed his only son," Binne suddenly spoke up, having chosen that precise moment to interject and Solaufein had no doubt it was on purpose. Her tail swished betraying her amusement while Nathyrra's expression turned to one of surprise and horror. Solaufein kicked her in her booted foot; she'd recovered most of her equipment but seemed to prefer the whip to her other weapons. She rolled her eyes at the half-hearted attack and her tail reflexively swatted at his offending foot.

"It was a flesh golem," Solaufein defended tiredly. "Not a son!"

"Halaster has a son whom he turned into a flesh golem?" Nathyrra's horror grew, as did her misunderstanding.

Solaufein decided this conversation was going nowhere and had no desire to endure Binne's further taunts about that particular misadventure. He grumbled quietly about how mad wizards could all rot in the Hells while he stretched his pained limbs and went in search of Deekin as well as rations. The mystery of Nathyrra and her allies could certainly wait until he had recovered somewhat from their ordeal.

"You know," his sword suddenly spoke up, sounding a little miffed. "You never asked me to be your dagger!"

Solaufein stopped mid-stride, feeling confused and alarmed at the sword's tone. He stared down at the bloodied weapon. "Are you . . . jealous that I used another weapon?"

The sword hesitated in response. "A little! I can shrink to a dagger, you know."

"I need to find your sheath."

"You can stifle my voice, but not my spirit!" Enserric cried. "I have feelings, you know!"

It took about an hour to sort through all of the gear they'd gathered. He found another sheath for Enserric since he could not find the original of dhaerow craftsmanship and replaced his armor with an enchanted set they acquired from a corpse. They placed what they could into the bag of holding. A few weapons they thought might be of use and components Deekin and Binne desired for alchemy were stored in the Reaper's room, which Solaufein truly dreaded as it required portal travel (and also because he'd forgotten how to summon a portal from it to that nexus realm, and it took him a few frustrated minutes of muttering to himself before he figured it out - he could hardly blame Deekin for not using it earlier when he noticed that the carved gems inside of it were facing the wrong direction).

The warlock took it in stride that he had an inter-dimensional key in his pocket that led to his own nexus-realm, and only complained that the relic couldn't get them to Halaster faster, since Solaufein hadn't thought to place a binding to their old location. The only binding he had in place led back to his room in the Yawning Portal, which was not of much use to them now that they were pressed for time.

He had offered Nathyrra the chance to resurrect her allies, which she took gladly. Only two of them were able to return, however, as the others for whatever reason did not or chose not to cross back over. While she and her allies were constructing a cairn for their few permanently fallen, Solaufein and his allies dined on potions and jerked rothe meat. It did restore their strength a little, but all three admitted freely that they'd rather be sleeping than going on to take the fight to Halaster.

Once the other dark elves were finished with their makeshift funeral and the other two were successfully adjusted from their disorientation upon waking up from death, Nathyrra approached him again cautiously as before. "We must leave, as soon as you are ready," she told him. "Our destination is half a day's journey from—"

"Hang on a minute," the cambion interrupted with a frown. "Who is this, exactly?" She looked to him and pointed at Nathyrra. "She's new, right? Or have I finally lost my mind in this madhouse and am imagining a little drow woman standing here?"

Nathyrra opened her mouth to respond, but Solaufein beat her to the punch. "Nathyrra, and we are not, as of yet," Solaufein told her and turned back to Nathyrra. "Unlike you I no longer believe Halaster is in any immediate danger."

The dark elven female seemed frustrated with this answer. "He is imprisoned by the Valsharess, and we cannot waste a minute. I know you have endured much, but for the sake of my people, I need your help to free him. The Valsharess needs him alive to keep Undermountain open - if he were dead, it would collapse. I have read that his magic is innate to the place, in tune with him as an arch-wizard might be in his own tower. He is the only one with any real power here."

Solaufein turned to Binne and Deekin, seeking opinions. Deekin's was most thoughtful. "Deekin not really believe a big scary wizard with a name like Blackcloak go and get captured by anyone by accidentally or on purpose. Maybe accidentally on purpose. Not even by drow, although you all is pretty tricky. No offense, Boss."

"None is taken," the warrior replied contemplatively, scratching his chin. "So you too think it is a trap?"

Binne nodded at Deekin's words. "Trap for whom? Sod's a loony, but powerful. Don't know why he'd plan on getting captured. Seems like an elaborate suicide."

Solaufein considered this eventuality. He remembered seething at Phaere for allowing herself to become captured by illithid and had called her plan many things, 'suicidal' least amongst them. She had not cared. He'd been infuriated, but overall lucky that Veldrin had been there to keep Phaere from flaying him on the spot. Phaere's insane defense was that it would bring her closer to the illithids' leadership, and she 'had not anticipated' the strength of their psionic blasts. If Halaster was the same kind of insane that she was, perhaps it was for a similar reason. Passively, he found it curious that he thought more of the past the deeper down they went. "Perhaps to draw out his enemy, to bring his enemy closer to him, and to catch them off guard," he mulled. "It is a mad plan."

"A mad wizard with a mad plan sounds about right," Binne nodded, and bit into another bit of meat.

"The consequences of his capture have opened the Underdark's forces to Waterdeep," Nathyrra reminded him. Her eyes were quite expressive and reflected her urgency. "If you want to save this surface city, we must act quickly to free him."

Solaufein was a little less eager to free Halaster - not that he didn't agree that saving people was a good and noble thing to do, but he had no desire to rush into his own death. He was sure that was what awaited him if Halaster found out about his killing of the flesh golem on the second level. "What does fate really smell like?" He asked Binne. Her nose was a bit more sensitive than his.

Her brow scrunched under her horns. "Coriander and loam with a bit o' rain. Bit subtle, but she's got it." She pointed at the confused Nathyrra.

He sighed. "I miss the rain. Very well, Nathyrra. We should go." He turned to the warlock and his bard friend. "I will not ask you to follow me into this. We may die."

Deekin shrugged. "Deekin die all the time. Er, maybe it was only that once, but Deekin also get knocked unconscious a lot since he take up adventuring, and he remember dying only hurt a little while before it gets better. Worst part is only remembering what rats do to Deekin's eyeballs." Solaufein recalled that same memory from the ruins of Undrentide and scowled in unison with the kobold.

Binne also shrugged. "Could die any day. Rather it be my choice. I'm with you, Solaufein."

He turned to the black-armored woman. "How many mounts can we use?"

She thought about this for a second, brow creasing. "Three. My people need at least two, to return to our outpost and report back, and it will take them several days. I believe Deekin can ride with me." She suddenly smiled, which seemed a peculiar but not at all unpleasant expression to cross her face. He studied her; it suddenly struck Solaufein that he had never really been treated politely by any dhaerow female in his life, or with this amount of deferential courtesy. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever seen one smile in a way that wasn't cruel, or viciously pleased - not since his first century before Phaere had been corrupted by Lloth. He supposed Veldrin didn't really count, and while Viconia De'Vir was many things, polite was definitely wasn't one of them. "I do not mind. I am the smallest and lightest, and it makes the most sense," Nathyrra reasoned.

The cambion seemed unsure of herself. "We're going to ride those . . . Lizard-things?"

"Tunnel-crawlers," Solaufein corrected, "is perhaps a better translation. They lack eyes and see by sound, as bats do. You must cling to the reigns, or fall, for they travel as like your spider-spell." She gulped. Deekin appeared excited and his earlier weariness from their capture disappeared for a little while. They retrieved most of their gear that had been taken, although he kept the dagger that Enserric had been sensitive about.

Before they left, the warlock approached him when he was away from the others with an unusually tense air about her. "Er, Solaufein. May I ask a favor?"

He cocked up an eyebrow in curiosity. She had never asked him for anything before. "Speak it."

Her hands reached up to the mass of long, red-black hair that had gotten tangled and matted over the days. The mane was or had been magnificent by even dark elven standards and reached her lower back but had clearly grown cumbersome. Solaufein was fond of it - it was one of the first things he noticed about her after the more obvious traits - though it looked bedraggled now. Once cleaned, it was a magnificent wavy mane the envy of any elf. It'd been bound by a few times before, but those were long gone. He recalled that, during her 'punishment,' her rapist had knotted it back in his hand and used it as a painful grip on her head, yanking more than a few strands out. It had neither been combed nor brushed since their capture. "Would you cut my hair?" She asked of him plaintively gesturing to the knotted mass. "Just hack it all off, I'm done with it. No comb can ever save it now."

He examined the mane and felt a twinge of an unnamed emotion. "It could still be cleaned, and braided back," he offered diplomatically instead, touching the locks gently. "Though it may be some time before then. Are you certain you wish this?"

Binne did not seem certain; she shifted uneasily and her eyes hesitated to reach his. Her actions and hesitation struck a chord of empathy in him. "Well, I don't want to be held quite like that again. It was. It. It was a powerless feeling. I don't." She couldn't seem to complete her thought and gesticulated helplessly, but Solaufein understood her immediately. She struggled with the right words as he did from time to time, but the emotion was naked in her expressive, amber eyes.

He simply nodded. "I used to have the exact same problem until I cut mine. I had long, luxurious hair once. Became a liability in battle, however."

Binne seemed dubious. "You? With long hair?" Her faced scrunched as she indulged her imagination.

"And luxurious," he bragged, folding his arms. "Long and thick hair is a sign of beauty among my kin. I still kept a small length." His hands ran over his shaven sides and he noted they'd grown longer, making a mental note to clean it up when he next had the time.

She laughed a little bit more like her previous self. "Well, maybe don't cut all of mine off. Just somewhere around my shoulders, above where the tangling is worse. It's a lot of weight, now."

He nodded again and bade her to sit. He took out the adamantine dagger and pulled her hair back, earning a wince and tense from her. He let their hair go slack in his hands and held very still. "Breathe," he suggested gently.

"I-I don't know-why-" she struggled to explain, and her hands began to tremble. She started to cover her face with her hands, but he pulled them away and forced eye contact.

"Breathe," he instructed, holding her gaze steadily. "This feeling will pass. It may return but remember that it always will pass. All you can do is breathe through it." She took his suggestion and her reactive state seemed to calm down. He suspected that she might have such a reaction to anyone grabbing at her hair; it was normal, to have a reflex to trauma - after all, it had been but a day (or so, who knew) ago that it'd been used against her. He'd experienced quite a few over the years and had seen many in others. Imoen, in particular, he recalled had woken up from many nightmares in the night and had an occasional episode of bizarre hallucinations where she seemed to believe she was still in the dungeon of Jon Irenicus. He was impressed that Binne was holding up as well as she was, given the circumstances, and found himself taking pride in his choice of companions. She had fortitude, as did Deekin, who both remained undimmed by their experience.

He was quick about it and hacked off the matted length, letting it fall to the ground, and trimmed a few pieces that lingered. She leaned forward as soon as he was finished and sighed in relief.

"Oh! Ha! I feel as though I had a weight on my neck!" She pulled and played at the dark length that brushed her shoulders in joy. "I've never felt free-er. Do I look fetching?"

"It suits you, and it is still long enough to weave," he answered. "Here. Hold still." She did, and dutifully didn't flinch once while he used his fingers to separate her hair quickly into lengths and braided it back as gently as he could. He made a makeshift tie out of a piece of cut lacing from a boot, and released her, feeling oddly much less weary than he did before. Binne was well pleased and seemed more like herself after. Perhaps it was an unnecessary comfort, but it felt important to him because it seemed to be important to her.

"Thank you," she said with simple, utter sincerity.

"I killed him," he told her and wasn't really sure what possessed him to say so.

The warlock tensed for a moment, but then smiled somewhat sadly. "Doesn't really change what happened, does it?"

He shrugged. "Nothing can change that. I got him with this dagger, and now he is dead." He gestured to the one he'd used to cut her hair, and her smile brightened.

She sighed, and lines crinkled around her eyes even as she smiled. "Just, only a shame I didn't get to him first. But, good. May they all rot in the Abyss or wherever it is they end up. Hopefully somewhere horrible with lots of pointy things that they get stabbed with all the times!"

He nodded. "I am sure there is a special pointy punishment in store for them, wherever they are now."

"Yes. A special, pointy Hell!"

They laughed and did not speak more on the matter. He doubted that she wanted to, but he purposefully left the discussion open should she try to revisit it. A part of him still felt deeply guilty for his failure that had led to her suffering, but he knew deep down that he was not the one responsible. The ones that were had died, and that would have to suffice. Only time would heal things. He felt sure, after speaking with Binne then, that she would recover. She would not entirely be the same, but she would heal in time. Much like Deekin, there was a strength of spirit in her that helped renew his own.

They left soon after the other three scouts did. The only one who seemed to enjoy the long, half-day ride was Deekin, whom for whatever reason was thrilled the entire time. Said it felt like flying on the back of a cave dragon. He pestered Nathyrra with questions during the brief water break they'd taken. By far Binne enjoyed the ride the least, but also complained the least and stuck to scowls and rubbing her backside. He was sympathetic to the pain, but they all knew they couldn't stop for long. It was honestly surprising how time flew as they back-tracked swiftly through the tunnels. Marching in a large group had forced them to go much, much slower. The z'orr tizzin proved their worth and trudged on tirelessly for the twelve to thirteen hours. There were all rather sore from the saddles at the end, and a few healing kits were spared so that they didn't all walk bow-legged. Binne, by far suffered the worst from it, and seemed to be a magnet for 'arse-pain' as she dubbed it.

When the time came to dismount, they threw the saddles and bags off of their mounts and bade them to flee, since none of them were certain that they would return by that route. An odd clarity washed over Solaufein as they began to follow Nathyrra on foot when he realized he was highly likely going to die in the next few hours, whether or not they freed Halaster. It was liberating, rather than disheartening. The only part of him that felt a pang was the part that missed his old friends, whom he'd likely never see again. Still, he would die amongst abbin in battle, and that was a better death than most had the luxury of.

They traveled through the mining tunnels until they reached a peculiar metal door built into the cavern itself. A glow of magic was about it that set his teeth on edge. "Methinks Halaster lays beyond this door," Enserric piped up. "This magic reeks of the rest of Undermountain."

Nathyrra nodded from his side. "I can dispel it and get us inside, but we must be prepared for the worst. This is the only entrance that I—"

A rumbling beneath the earth disrupted Nathyrra's words and set them all into states of alarm. Deekin, or Binne (he could never be sure) let out a shriek that was abruptly stifled once they remembered they were supposed to be stealthy, which seemed to be a hard concept for his companions to really grasp. From the far wall of the cavern, his heat vision detected the unmistakable forms of Formians amidst an all-too familiar clicking noise.

"Let me," Solaufein spoke, motioning for everyone to be still. Everyone but Deekin gave him rather incredulous looks as he approached the Formians that had literally appeared out of nowhere, in a tunnel they'd dug from the main dungeon to get to them.

The one he'd freed, the Queen (or so he suspected) was not amongst them. Instead, a large black Formian clattered forward on six legs and clicked his mandibles at Solaufein. The man stopped and held still to wait for the telepathic impressions. *Help dark elf/Help free* Was what he received, along with a mental image of a runed circle with an old man chained to the ground inside of it, surrounded by five white stones. *Help Halaster* the Formian added, like an afterthought.

Solaufein nodded. "There are many enemies in there. We will form a plan. Do you have another way into that room?" He gestured.

The Formians clicked amongst each other. About seven more poured out of the tunnel and chittered. *We fight/We bring/We make the way* The black, chitinous soldier sent. Solaufein nodded again and bowed in gratitude, hoping they'd not misinterpret the gesture.

He strolled back to his companions. "Making friends with bugs now?" Binne teased. "Quite the budding druid, you are."

He glared at her but couldn't really dispute the remark considering all the goblins, kobolds, Formians, and swords he'd befriended lately. "I freed their leader in the caves. She appears to have sent them to help us free Halaster. They can dig and find a back route into the chamber while we charge the front. I want you, Deekin, and Nathyrra to go with them. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

Many ideas were put forward and a few tossed out. They were exhausted from the last battle, but Binne had an Eryines that she could summon under her employ, as well as her familiar who was a dour but surprisingly quick-witted Imp named Hembercane. Deekin was able to bring forth a few elementals and one Shadow of necromantic origin, as well as summon a spider or two with a wand he'd had in his bag. Nathyrra had summoned the earth elemental before, it seemed, and had only one more of that spell in her disposal - she would hold off on summoning the elder earth elemental until the Formians were in position. Binne had given him the spider aspect once more, and he had her spelled into invisibility along with her Eryines with instructions on freeing Halaster by any means necessary, while Solaufein distracted the bulk of the enemy. Any priestesses and wizards were top priority targets, after the one that was holding Halaster's key.

With his death surely approaching, Solaufein felt confident that he would at least go out with a large bang. He prayed briefly to his goddess for strength before entering through the main door that Nathyrra dispelled, and she dropped a globe of darkness over his position as soon as the door opened and they heard a shout of alarm. The Formians had enough time to impart a decent mental image on the enemy fortifications as they tunneled through the other side as fast as they could. Archers lined the walls, with a heavy enforcements at the door of both swordsmen, wizards, and at least three priestesses. Only one appeared to be guarding Halaster himself, who had been the wrinkled old man in the imprisonment spell he'd seen in his mind's eye. When the darkness kicked in, Solaufein climbed up the wall behind him and wrapped the piwafwi he still had around his form, shielding himself from the spectrum of heat and ran in a wide circle. They would surely see his trail, but he counted on the archers being slower than his boots of speed.

Alarm in the room was raised just as he had reached the first group of archers and dropped down from the ceiling to wreak havoc on the enemy. He dropped down sword first and nearly cleaved an entire archer in two, briefly lodging Enserric. "Shrink!" He commanded the sword and tried to kick the body off just as his fellow soldier swung low with his short sword and stabbed at Solaufein's legs with his second. Solaufein spun the body of the one his sword was still lodged in around to take the blow for him and kicked out behind him, hitting a shield, and knocking its wielder off balance as more closed in on him. Enserric's blade seemed to disappear into the handle briefly as its length changed, and the dead body finally fell free. He pulled the dagger quickly out of his boot and parried a blow from the swordsman behind him and went on the defensive. "You could - hah! - enlarge - any time now!" He gritted out as the enemy pressed his assault.

"Well, it's been a while!" The sword defended in a huffy tone and suddenly grew to the length of a great sword. With the unexpected weight in his hand, Solaufein plunged his adamantine dagger into one that had charged him and swung in a messy z'ress a'thalak maneuver that required some adaptability. The great sword of Enserric unexpectedly cut through two of his enemies at once, leaving only just one more archer on the platform.

Solaufein had to dodge a bolt before he got in close enough to impale his enemy. "We have to work on our communication skills," he decided, addressing Enserric.

"I agree," the sword huffed. "This is all getting very messy."

"Just go back to a normal size," he commanded and retrieved his dagger, feeling his arm lighten as Enserric changed into a longsword once more. He switched his stance to bautha z'hin and used the haste enchantment and Binne's ever-useful spider-walk to run off of the platform's edge and down it, toward the cell where he saw Halaster being imprisoned.

A quick assessment revealed the Formians had already flanked the enemy and were working on the second platform. A group of reinforcements had come from the summons of the wizards and priestesses, but for each one of them that was taken out, a few summoned beasts would disappear. The earth elemental was proving useful in keeping two of the diviners distracted while Binne attempted to keep the chief priestess occupied - another female clad in specifically red armor - while Nathyrra was working on toppling over the stones imprisoning the mad wizard with Deekin's assistance in the form of a determined water elemental. He threw his dagger at the priestess to draw her attention away so that the cambion might get in a good lick with her whip, but instead the warlock brought her leg and tail around in a wide sweep that knocked the priestess off of her legs and threw a mailed fist into her face.

The red-armored cleric snarled and charged at the cambion after rolling away in time to avoid the blow, putting his friend on the defensive. Noticing that the feathered Eryines was nearby and positioned to attack, he left the battle and ran up the second platform to help the Formians finish off the archers, as well as a wizard up there who had trapped himself in a globe of invulnerability.

The wizard, like most others he had met (with maybe the exception of one in his entire life) was arrogant in his escape. He didn't expect Solaufein to point Enserric at him and cast a rather effective dispel; he didn't like to use his gifts only but sparingly, but it made the look on his enemies' faces worth it when it caught them by surprise. The wizard was dead a moment later, and Enserric the Gray had another life to ghoulishly feed on.

He glanced down at the still-imprisoned Blackcloak and saw all but two of the pillars were down. One of the diviners had been squashed by the other elemental, but the other had successfully banished most of all of their allies except for Binne's, and two elementals. She finally cast a confusion spell on it that appeared to have worked, in that the earth elemental appeared confused as to the location of his enemy and started beating on the walls and ground. Solaufein ran down the second platform again, trusting the Formians to finish off the work.

He was about to stab the other diviner in the back when the Imp, Hembercane, had canceled his invisibility a few inches away from the diviner's face. She didn't have time to blink before the sour-faced Imp breathed, or burped, a large amount of fire into her face that lit her hair and eyebrows and causing her to panic. Solaufein beheaded her shortly after as she ran into him in her panic and nodded at the Imp. Hembercane flapped in place and made a 'tsk' noise.

"Henotep . . . gaer!" Nathyrra grunted from the other side of the prison, trying her best with the last elemental to push over another large white rune stone.

The cleric in red was the only one left and continued to be kept at bay by Binne and her Eryines. She appeared to realize this and for a moment made eye contact with him. The red priestess ran for Nathyrra rapier-first. Solaufein moved to stop her at the same time the cambion did, but rather than attack Nathyrra as suspected the priestess whirled around and stabbed the cambion right through the chest.

Binne let out a startled bloody cough before sliding off the blade, just before the priestess did the same thing as her neck became pierced by Solaufein's black sword.

Just then, the last runic stone that held Halaster's prison together fell to the ground and cracked in two. Nathyrra bent over in relief, and the water elemental beside her disappeared in a puddle as Deekin approached from the back of the last spider that he'd chosen to ride. A whirring noise filled Solaufein's ears as he noticed the prone wizard began to emit an incandescent white light.

He did not care and knew he'd likely die soon enough. He knelt to Binne's level and took off his glove to grasp her hand when she reached it out weakly at the sight of him. His fingers sought out the fluttering pulse at the inside of her wrist. She had started fleeing into unconsciousness and was bleeding out from the wound; a poison on the blade had changed her coloring rather rapidly. "Deekin," he called out, and heard the spider's legs ticking in his approach. The disappointed-looking Eryines disappeared as soon as her summoner died, along with Hembercane the imp who scoffed and flashed away in a huff. Binne's eyes were closed, and her fluttering pulse had abruptly ceased. "Get the rod," he impassively instructed.

Everything went white before he heard Deekin's answer. He thought he might be blind, but still felt the warlock's cooling hand in his own. "I gots it!" Deekin suddenly cried out and a loud THUNK of something hitting flesh resounded. His vision returned as the cambion's breath did. He found himself letting out a held-in breath of relief without realizing it. Only momentarily gone, Binne sat straight up after the Sunite's rod struck her, gasping for air and coughing.

"Did I just die?!" She whirled about, looking between the kobold, Solaufein, and her imp flapping in their air next to Nathyrra - it seemed that Hembercane had summoned himself upon her resurrection, after her death had banished him. She shuddered. "I d—Oh no, never doing that again. No, no, no—oh, I think I'm gonna be sick— "

Solaufein held up a hand to silence her and pointed to the suddenly standing mad wizard who was examining all of them rather contemptuously, despite not wearing anything but a loincloth. Nathyrra, from a few feet away, tried to approach and addressed the wizard by name fearfully . . . And then a second wizard of identical features in a red bath robe appeared right next to the formerly-imprisoned Halaster. "Hal?" The clone greeted, stroking his long, white beard. Solaufein put his gloves back on and assisted Binne with standing and estimated his odds of survival had just decreased by at least half.

"Hal Two?" The first Halaster said, also stroking his dirtier, more bedraggled beard. "I thought we had an arrangement!" He suddenly shouted at his cleaner, less bedraggled clone.

The second Halaster flapped his arms. "We had no such thing! And you're Hal Two, not I! The arrangement was conditional on your capture! You're not captured anymore, you blighted idiot!"

"Don't get mad at me!" The first flapped right back. "I may be separate, but I'm your equal!"

"Oh we are separate," the second Halaster in red growled and shook his fist at his counterpart, "but we are not equal!"

"That's clone discrimination, that is!" The first one roared in the second one's face. "I'll not work under these conditions! Don't make me unionize!"

Hal Two laughed uproariously. "Who ever heard of a magical clone union?!"

"Why the fuck are there two of 'im now? He's supposed to be one, not two!" Binne wondered out loud uselessly.

Both Halasters turned their attention to her and the wary dark elves. "Seen you from afar, we have," the second Halaster began, and then the first continued his thought in a bitter voice, "and seen your misdeeds!"

The first (the one held captive) got mad at Halaster the Second-to-Arrive again. "Oi, don't talk over me!"

Halaster Two sneered right back, "you're the one talking over me!"

"Shut up!"

"No you shut up and help me smite these meddling idiots who killed our son!"

"Naut l'xsa n'tranz'luin 'sohna," Solaufein muttered into his palm as his face met it.

"Halaster, please!" Nathyrra spoke up to the mad wizard. She flinched under his ire, which was now focused on her. "Halasters. I-people are dying. Undermountain must close, or Waterdeep will fall. If it is the Valsharess that you fear, my people are already fighting her. We will continue to fight her for as long as we have to. But please, spare Solaufein. My people need him. We are fighting the Valsharess daily. We need his help!"

"We needed Berger!" Both cried out at the same time. The haggard one looked angry and the other one just looked depressed. "Who's going to make my tea the way I like it now?/Who will ghostwrite my autobiography now?" They both cried at the same time, and then turned to Solaufein. "No, I'm afraid the drow must die," the first Halaster decided.

"Wait," the second said, just as Nathyrra opened her mouth to object. "I—"

"Oh, stuff it you mad codger!" The cambion snapped, losing her mind or her patience, Solaufein wasn't sure. He absently wondered how many charges his rod of resurrection had left. She ambled to her feet and swayed a bit in place, but nonetheless managed to come across as indignant. Solaufein appreciated the effort, if not the execution, and fluttered uselessly behind her as he anticipating her fainting at any moment from blood loss. "My arse has taken QUITE the beating and we've been through a bloody LOT in the last few days and I just DIED trying to free you, you bloody ungrateful twattering—" A grease spell, or something worse, caused the floor to slick under Binne's feet. She would claim it was a grease spell later, but it was likely her own spilled blood that caused her to trip and fall, injuring her tail and backside again with a pained cry as she landed on it. "Arrrrrrgh! My arse! Why is it always me arse?!"

Unexpectedly, both Halasters began to laugh themselves into nigh hysterics at the sight. Solaufein was a little darkly amused as well but managed to stifle his chuckling. When they were crying, leaning on each other, the second Halaster said to the other, "I have a much better plan. With much more suffering."

The first Halaster literally clapped in glee, which sent a chill down everyone's spine. Especially Enserric's, who let out a low-pitched whine. "I don't like the sound of this at all," the sword demurred, glittering red from his black depths.

"I like it even less," Solaufein muttered back as he once again helped Binne onto her feet, for the second time in a minute.

The second Halaster gave the dark elf a measured look, like he was calculating the worth of his innards. He spoke an arcane phrase and a light was sent through Solaufein's skull. It rent through his thoughts and psyche with such a force that he felt it must have come out the other side of his head. It pinched first between his brow, and then it screamed. Or perhaps he was the one who was screaming. He was on the ground, and there was the blood or 'grease spell' that Binne had slipped in that smelled of ash and copper, and the pain was unlike anything he'd ever experienced in his life. He'd met some creative torments over the years, but nothing compared to the splitting pain in his skull that continued throbbing even after it had abated somewhat and sent him reeling to the floor in nausea in the after-shock.

"No!" He heard Nathyrra cry out. Hands were around his, trying to pull them from his face, pull him back up, but he couldn't face it. The pain was too much. He gripped Enserric as if it were his lifeline and tried his best to breathe when a voice nearby suggested that he do just that.

"You ungrateful sods!" The warlock screeched from the ground. Solaufein looked up at just the wrong, or right time as both Halasters sent an identical ball of light that collided with the base of Binne's tail and sent her doubled over in pain again, whimpering. Solaufein wanted to laugh at her luck just as she started screeching about arse-pain again, but there was another light that engulfed him that distracted him. For a moment, he wondered if he had gone blind or was in the process of, for the world had grown dim and blurry as the edges of his vision darkened.

"Boss? You not look so good," Deekin scratched from somewhere near him. All Solaufein could do was moan in agony at Deekin's toes and press his temples with the heels of his hands.

The pain abated for a moment, but the nausea didn't. "Chosen you are, but not by I," both of the Halasters said as the light eclipsed Solaufein's vision. "I see a life-long shadow growing upon the other . . . But I think you'll both do nicely this time around. Alone, you'd surely fail. So you'll fight the Valsharess for me, use your gift to bring her to a swift end. One year, I give you. One year to kill her, and my geas is released. Flee, and you will die in unimaginable agony. One year, you have . . ."

Solaufein was honestly not aware of much after that. The pain blinded him to his surroundings. He cursed wizards, he cursed his luck, and he cursed Lloth many times. He was distantly aware of Binne still complaining about her arse pain, and still wanted to laugh darkly at her predicament just as she had laughed at his portal-induced nausea, but he was clinically unable to anything but reel in pain. He'd settle for reminding her about it later about as often as she'd reminded him of slaying Berger. At one point, he remembered asking Nathyrra to kill him, and at some other point he know he must have vomited because he tasted bile on his tongue in in spite of his delirium, and the smell of it permeated his nostrils unpleasantly.

When the pain went away finally, a cool and soothing touch on his forehead drew his gaze up and into a face he'd seen only in a distant dream. A gentle dark elven woman with eyes as blue as the sky over Athkatla cradled his face and smiled. "Welcome, Solaufein," said the lady in a voice that was as soft as her hands. "I have been expecting you."

Drow-to-Common Dictionary:

Vith . . . Ah, bugger this nonsense
Dobluth . . . Homeless
mzilst z're . . . Someone who's getting too big for her britches
z'orr tizzin . . . One o' them tricky ass lizards that crawls up walls and such
Xa'huuli jaluk . . . Something that female drow like to call the males
Usstan hass . . . Dude, chill
Og'elend ulu . . . Like accusing someone of not being drow enough, so like racism inside racism
Heno . . . Nath is asking why they didn't give this job to the earth elemental
Naut l'xsa . . . If I have to hear one more word about that stupid flesh golem I'll kill myself
The 'z'ress' and 'bautha' thingies were different drow fighting styles. One is about big swings and the other is about sneakysneak.