Chapter Twenty-Three
Planting the Seeds
1485 DR / Day 32
The Shattered Spire, Gracklstugh
The Shattered Spire was an odd little building, resembling more of a run-down shack than a proper tavern. But several patrons milled about its entrance, and both Fargas and Sarith attested to its popularity amongst the locals. An enormous, fragmented stalagmite jutted out of the Darklake some forty feet from shore and functioned as a natural foundation. A bridge comprised of woven rothé wool and wide planks of zurkhwood linked the tavern back to land. The bridge swayed and creaked as the adventurers crossed it but was not nearly as treacherous as the spider-silk bridges in Velkynvelve.
"I could see this being a problem after one too many ales," Kazimir quipped. The tiefling then purposely jumped on the first plank, launching poor Fargas into the air as the halfling walked in front of him. Fargas laughed and asked for Kazimir to do it again, but the others were less than impressed.
Inside, the tavern was crammed with patrons, but there was no sign of Werz Saltbaron. Instead, the tables were occupied by all manner of everyday Underdark-dwelling denizens—duergar, drow, svirfneblin, orcs, a few derro, and even a handful of kuo-toa. Kazimir's attention, however, immediately zeroed in on a fellow tiefling. With bright blue skin and ram-like horns that curled down and around their arched ears, they were hard to miss within the dour crowd. But before the wizard could approach them, they rose from their seat and abruptly exited the building. Kazimir's shoulders slumped.
"Maybe you will see them again later," Zelyra offered as she perceived the tiefling's disappointment.
"I didn't even know what I was going to say…I've just never met another of my kind," the half-devil solemnly replied.
Zelyra did not press, but she was taken aback by the admission. Truthfully, she knew woefully little of his kind. But the few stories she'd heard from Laucian and those in Taras Aldar claimed that tieflings were an ill-omen, a treacherous race. And yet, Zelyra saw none of that in Kazimir. On the contrary, he was polite, funny, charismatic, and mischievous. And yet, the druid had also perceived a sadness about him that only appeared when Kazimir thought that no one was looking. More than ever, she wondered what his story was. How did he find himself on the Material Plane? Half-devils were even less common than half-elves, after all.
But that was a conversation for another time. "Come, let's find us a place to sit," the druid bade as she tugged on Kazimir's shoulder.
The wizard's gaze remained fixated on the tavern's door for several breaths before relenting.
Only two small square tables were open in the tavern's back corner. So the companions claimed both and pushed them together to make more room. Sarith, however, split from the party and went to sit at the bar alone. Fraeya had half a mind to go after him—she wanted to ask him about the mysterious drow scout—but quickly decided it was better to bide her time. She knew Sarith's penchants well. It was not a conversation to be had out in the open if she wanted to truly glean anything.
A paper menu lay on the table, which Prince Derendil and Eldeth translated for all those who could not read Dwarvish. Fargas recommended the blue-cap stew, so several bowls of it and a plate of sporebread were ordered for the party. For drinks, the halfling suggested a malty red ale brewed by Clan Muzgardt at the Darklake Brewery. It was not as expensive as Darklake Stout—which sold for 20GP a pop—but still far more potent than the cheap, light-colored ale Lizva had served them the evening before.
As the companions ate and drank, they swapped information. Fraeya, Fargas, and Nine quickly filled the others in on the assassination attempt on Werz and their subsequent arrest. This led to a brief discussion about the drow scout and who she might be. Fraeya suspected that Sarith knew the female but could not confirm it.
"The way they fought each other was strange," the rogue noted. "It was as if they anticipated the other's move before it was even made. I would say it was a beauty to behold, but they were fighting dirty. Did you see his eye? She gave it to him."
"So Blackskull didn't beat you?" Zelyra asked tentatively.
Fraeya's nose scrunched up. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Your injuries…" the druid cited. "It was before we knew you'd been in a fight. I assumed Blackskull tortured you for information."
"No. We were split up. I sat alone in a barred cell while a duergar stood on the other side, glaring at me for about thirty minutes," Nine said with disinterest as she picked at her nails. "I didn't even see Blackskull until she summoned us."
"Same here. Blackskull must have recognized the scout and talked to her first," Fraeya surmised. "We never saw her again after that. Which makes me curious to know what Blackskull meant when she said she'd ensure any loose threads we'd encountered here would be eliminated…."
"You think the duergar will kill her?" Eldeth asked with a raised brow.
The drow shrugged wordlessly in response.
"So how do you think Sarith knows her?" Kazimir asked curiously.
Again, Fraeya shrugged. "How should I know? I haven't had the chance to ask him."
"He probably wouldn't tell you anyway," Zelyra said.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that…" the rogue drawled slyly.
Zelyra snickered. "Oh—that's right—because you two are sharing lodgings!"
"What's that supposed to mean!" Fraeya cried. When the druid mashed her lips together to keep from laughing, the drow's silvery eyes narrowed further. "What?!"
When the druid refused to elaborate, Fargas took the lead and began making an obscene slapping gesture with his hands.
"Ugh! No!" the drow screeched in disgust as she finally caught on. "FARGAS!"
"I have a theory!" the halfling announced as he crawled up to stand on the top of his stool so all could see him. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he continued, "Let me paint the scene of a violent crime of passion! You all should have seen how Sarith and the female brawled. I say the mysterious drow is a scorned lover. How jealous she must be to see him now with a beauty like Fraeya!"
"Fargas, I'm warning you—"
When the halfling blew a raspberry at her, Fraeya grabbed a half-eaten chunk of spore bread and hurled it at Fargas so hard the blow knocked him from his seat.
"Point taken!" the halfling croaked from the floor.
His companions erupted into laughter. After they settled, the topic of the scout was dropped. Instead, they discussed their next move. The group decided it was best to follow Captain Blackskull's lead on Droki after restocking supplies and properly outfitting themselves. It was hard telling what they would encounter in derro territory—Fargas had little good to say about it. The conversation then awkwardly switched to the secret Captain Blackskull had inadvertently revealed, their drow pursuit. The former prisoners expected an uproar, but they got the exact opposite. Fargas and Nine were entirely unmoved by what they heard. After all, only an extraordinary event could force such a strange group of individuals together.
"Your secret is safe with us," Fargas pledged. "If it's actually a secret."
When the halfling looked to Nine to second that pledge, the ranger only offered a shrug of indifference.
"I'd not be calling it a secret," Eldeth claimed. "It's just…the fewer people that know, the easier it is for us to lie low. But unfortunately, Captain Blackskull only confirmed what we've feared for some time. Ilvara is hunting us down. I'd not like to be found and forced back into her slave camp."
"I hate to break it to you, but I doubt Ilvara will take us back as slaves," Fraeya said.
"What do you mean?" Prince Derendil asked as he sipped on his ale.
"For the humiliation we caused her, it's more likely that she'll ship us to Menzoberranzan to be sacrificed to Lolth," the drow said unapologetically. "And I don't think she will care whether Fargas and Nine are escapees or not. If she finds us together, we're all going! So, you two better decide now if you're comfortable with that," she told the explorer and the ranger.
Nine folded her arms over her chest. "It's not like we have a choice in the matter now," she spat. "The duergar have blackmailed us! Perhaps you should have warned us of the target on your backs from the start. Then Fargas and I could have made a proper decision as to whether we wanted to risk traveling with you."
But Fargas shrugged and said, "What's done is done. Nothing we can do about it now. But if it's any consolation, I'd have gone with you anyway."
The ranger huffed and tucked back into her stew.
"You are always looking for adventure—aren't you, Fargas?" Zelyra said fondly.
The halfling winked and said, "It runs in the family!"
With all proper business squared away, the conversation steered in a more casual direction. Fargas regaled his companions with exciting tales from his father, the famous adventurer Falver Rumblefoot. But Zelyra found that it only reminded her of Laucian's accounts of hunting down aberrations in the Underdark. She'd idolized those stories and dreamed of following in her father's footsteps one day. Well, she'd gotten her wish! But her own adventure was turning out quite different…
So instead, the druid tuned out Fargas's enchanting tales and chose to observe the patrons of the Shattered Spire. But unfortunately, there was only so much one could discern when they could not understand the languages being spoken. So Zelyra closed her eyes and listened, as Derendil had suggested, while absently trying unfamiliar words on her tongue. At one point, the prince's head turned sharply in her direction and asked, "Why do you keep saying the words 'sewer system' and 'tunnels'?"
Zelyra opened her eyes. "What?"
"That is what you are saying—sewer system and tunnels," Derendil told her, enunciating the words first in Undercommon and then in Common.
The druid shook her head. "I don't know. I was just repeating some of the words I was hearing," she said.
Prince Derendil opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as Fraeya suddenly hissed, "There's Werz!"
The companions turned their attentions to the doorway as an ordinary-looking duergar entered. Fargas and Nine confirmed that it was indeed Werz Saltbaron. They watched as he sat down at a two-person table, and the server immediately attended to him by bringing out a prepared meal on a large platter. Oddly, it held far more food than what one individual should have been capable of consuming in a single sitting.
Fraeya surveyed her companions before setting her sights on Zelyra, who sat directly across from her. "Come with me," she said.
"What?" the druid asked confusedly.
"I'm going to go talk to Werz. Come with me," the drow said shortly. She then stood and walked away from the table without waiting on the half-elf's answer.
Zelyra sighed and drained the rest of her cup. "I guess I'm going with her," she told the table. "Though I'm not likely to understand anything they say…."
"I think I can help with that!" Kazimir said brightly. He scurried over to the druid and placed a hand on her shoulder while muttering a quick incantation under his breath. A sharp pain sparked between Zelyra's eyes. But fortunately, it eased into a dull throb before dissipating entirely.
"What did you do to me?" she asked the wizard.
"You can now understand any language you hear for the next hour," Kazimir said. He spoke in Infernal, yet Zelyra understood the words as effortlessly as if he had said them in Common or Elvish. "Now go! Catch up with Fraeya!"
"Thanks, Kaz!" the druid called as she rushed after the drow.
Meanwhile, Fraeya weaved her way through various tables, dodging more than one flailing arm as inebriated patrons energetically engaged in conversation. As she passed an abandoned table, she stealthily swiped a chunk of sporebread from a plate and hurled it towards the bar. It met its mark—striking Sarith squarely in the back of the head. The warrior instantly turned around, an angry scowl contorting his dark features. But as he met Fraeya's silvery gaze from across the room, he heaved a heavy sigh. Sarith thus rose from his seat and abandoned his half-drunk goblet of Spiderblood wine. [1]
Werz Saltbaron idly sipped on a tankard of Darklake Stout as he beheld the approaching trio. He quickly flagged down the server and requested more ale—not only for Fraeya, Sarith, and Zelyra but a round for those waiting back at their table as well.
"Please, sit," the duergar said to them in a surprisingly polite tone.
Fraeya claimed the only seat. Zelyra and Sarith remained standing awkwardly behind her.
"I can get more chairs," Werz offered.
Sarith shook his head. "I'll stand."
Zelyra nodded in agreement, not wanting to risk saying something embarrassing. Unfortunately, Kazimir's spell could only help her so far. It granted her the ability to understand all languages—not speak them.
"Interesting companions you dark elves keep. This is a different half-elf than before. Slaves of yours?" Werz asked the drow.
"None of them are slaves," Fraeya said shortly.
The duergar's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Fascinating. Again, I must thank you for your help fighting off those assassins. Your debt to Gorglak might be forgotten in exchange for a second favor."
The rogue slammed her hands on the table and leaned forward threateningly. "Excuse me? Might? That's not what you told me earlier. So now saving your life wasn't enough?" she asked cattily.
Werz shuffled uncomfortably. For his brave talk, it was clear that he was still intimidated by the presence of two dark elves. Sarith's supporting, pitiless glare at Fraeya's shoulder certainly did not help matters. But the duergar was under orders of a higher power. The ease with which the drow and their companions took out the assassins had caught their interest.
"You were arrested by the Stoneguard, and yet, now you sit here free. I can only assume that Captain Blackskull offered you some sort of deal. I wish to do the same," Werz insisted as he raised his hands in peace. "That attempt on my life is not the first."
The duergar then explained that he was the third member of his family, the Saltbaron clan, to be targeted. He personally believed it to be a coverup of the Stoneguard. For too long now, they had displayed brazen violence against Gracklstugh's ordinary citizens. Of the twenty duergar clans in Gracklestugh, all had seen at least one murder, and strangely, the weapon-smithing families seemed to have taken the hardest hits. The one exception was Clan Steelshadow, the Deepking's family. Clan Steelshadow had not seen a single murder. Instead, important figures of rival clans were being targeted. Obviously, the killings were meant to incite panic and divide the city—similar to what had occurred in Sloobludop.
"Someone is being contracted to do these murders," Werz concluded. "I implore you to find out who."
Fraeya met Sarith's gaze, then Zelyra's, before turning back to Werz. "What's in it for us?" she asked plainly.
Werz hesitated before revealing a nondescript leather satchel, which he pushed across the table towards Fraeya. Then, he leaned forward and hissed, "Inside, you will find items to aid in your quest. I suspect it might even fall in line with what Captain Blackskull has already asked of you. Her clan has been hit hard by the assassinations."
But when the drow peeked within the satchel, it was empty. Fraeya huffed and absently passed it to Zelyra, demanding, "Is this some kind of joke?"
The duergar shook his head. "That bag is protected by magic. It can hold far more than you can possibly imagine," he claimed. "Items stored within must be called out by name; only then will they appear. Call it a theft deterrent—unless said thief knew to turn the bag inside out, then everything would come tumbling out."
"So, what are its current contents?" Fraeya asked curiously.
"A lapis lazuli spell gem, a pair of sending stones, and a scroll of see invisibility," Werz disclosed. "The spell gem can be infused with one minor spell for later use. It's all yours, compliments of a friend." [2]
To test his word, Fraeya asked Zelyra to summon one of the items from the bag. The druid reached a hand inside and thought of the spell gem. Immediately, she felt something round and cool in her palm. Zelyra promptly removed her hand from the bag, revealing a deep-blue metamorphic stone with veins of gold. She briefly showed it to her drow companions before dropping it back into the satchel. It disappeared within with a flash of magic.
"And who is this friend who has so generously given us these gifts?" Fraeya probed.
Werz shuffled uneasily once more. He chose his words carefully as he said, "From time to time, I assist members of a thieves' guild within the city called the Grey Ghosts. I can only assume that is why I was the target of assassination. Those who have dealings with the Ghosts often find themselves a target. Perhaps the assassins mistook me for a full-fledged member."
Fraeya mulled over that interesting bit of information for a moment before asking, "Have you ever heard of an organization called the Empty Scabbard Killers?" she asked.
"It is a children's story," the duergar claimed. "Or, at least, that was what I believed until I was a target of assassination. Do you have just cause to believe it real?"
"Call it a working theory," Fraeya drawled.
Werz unscrupulously leaned forward and whispered, "Fine. One last thing, and then I will let you go. My friend has uncovered a small lead in one of their couriers who they believe is double-crossing the guild; a derro who goes by the name Droki. He is recognizable by the strange hat he wears. It has big white puffballs on the ends. You can find him in—"
"The Blade Bazaar," Fraeya interrupted with a yawn. "We've heard of Droki."
"Then you seemingly have more of a head start than I," the duergar muttered grouchily. He then returned to his oversized dinner without the offer to share, an effective dismissal of the trio.
The rogue stood up, and before taking her leave, she said, "Thanks for the drinks."
Werz grunted in acknowledgment but, otherwise, said nothing more.
Sarith begrudgingly trailed Fraeya and Zelyra as they weaved their way back through the maze of tables to rejoin their companions. "Why did you want me to come with you?" the druid asked Fraeya curiously. "You couldn't have known Kazimir would have a spell he could use to help me understand the conversation."
"That was just luck. I chose you because you are observant," Fraeya said. "Tell me, what could you read from Werz? Was he being honest? Or deceitful? Hiding anything?"
Zelyra sighed. "Werz often seemed to pause and think better of his word choice," she answered. "His statements were abrupt. Too often, he averted his gaze and just generally appeared uncomfortable. I don't believe he was telling you everything."
"Good to know," the drow muttered.
The trio returned to their table to find that Werz had been more than generous in treating the party. Not only had he bought a round of Darklake Stout for the table, but he'd also informed the attendant to keep the ale flowing—all to be charged to his personal tab. Sarith abruptly turned on his heel and returned to the bar, wanting no part in the group's current chaos. For it was, indeed, chaos.
Dozens of empty flagons littered the table, and at present, Fargas and Kazimir were engaged in a rowdy drinking contest. Eldeth and Derendil roared with laughter and clinked their tankards together as they bid on the winner. The only one not partaking in the frivolity was Nine. Stool sat on the ranger's lap, and judging by the yellow spores swirling around them, the pair were engaged in telepathic conversation. Notably, Nine took occasional sips from her water flask rather than partaking in the free ale—Fargas was quick to claim her portions for himself. [3]
"What in the name of Vhaeraun is going on here?! We were gone ten minutes!" Fraeya exclaimed.
The drow received multiple slurred answers in response.
Zelyra looked about the tavern and found that their table was the center of attention. Many an eye fell on the strange, boisterous group. She looked to her drow companion and whispered, "Everyone is staring at us."
"Gee, I wonder why!" the rogue hissed.
But before anything more could be said, two duergar who had been calmly discussing business at a nearby table suddenly flew into a confusing rage. One of the males launched himself across the table and tackled his companion. The chair tipped over, and both duergar went sprawling to the floor. But it did not end there. They began wrestling on the ground whilst spitting and swearing at one another.
Fargas slammed his drink down on the table. "BAR FIGHT!" he bellowed. The halfling climbed up on the tabletop, kicking multiple tankards of ale over as he prepared to belly flop onto the two wrestling duergar.
"Fargas—no!" Zelyra cried as she waved a hand and called forth her magic.
The halfling suddenly froze in place in the middle of the tabletop. The group burst into laughter. Meanwhile, the druid felt a pushback of stubborn willpower as Fargas fought against her paralyzing hold on him.
"Let…me…go," the halfling forced out through frozen lips.
"Not unless you promise to sit back down!" Zelyra hissed sternly.
"You…are…no…fun!"
When the druid dropped her spell, Fargas begrudgingly climbed down from the tabletop. It was just as well, for the two fighting duergar had been pulled apart by other patrons. They now sat back in a pure daze. Neither could remember what had sparked the uncited violence. But Fargas glared at Zelyra and said, "What are you—my mother?"
"You are drawing far too much attention to us," the druid snapped.
"You don't use magic on your friends!" was the halfling's snarky reply. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms petulantly across his chest.
They were seemingly innocent words, but Zelyra froze upon hearing them. A dark memory crept its way to the surface. The druid quickly pushed the awful recollection away before further guilt could sink in. She couldn't think of Varan now… Zelyra had promised she'd never use trickster magic so unjustly again. But this was not the same, was it? She'd paralyzed Fargas to protect him—not to deceive him for her own benefit.
"Let's just leave them to it," Zelyra muttered to Fraeya.
The half-elf and drow claimed two empty chairs at the bar near Sarith. The duergar barkeep barely paid notice to them. He was far too busy wiping down tankards with his own spit. Zelyra's face turned a little green as she looked down at her own cup. Did the duergar clean all glasses in that manner?
"Mind if we join you? The others are drunk out of their mind," Fraeya drawled to her fellow drow.
Sarith presently had two goblets of wine sitting in front of him. One, he slid over to Fraeya as he muttered, "And that is why I prefer to sit alone."
The rogue curiously sniffed the proffered glass. "Are you trying to purposely poison yourself?"
Sarith shrugged. "I've built up a tolerance to Spiderblood wine." [4]
Fraeya slid the goblet back to him. "Well, I haven't. I think I'll stick to ale."
"Suit yourself," he said and abruptly drained his glass.
The trio sat together for some time, not speaking, just quietly sipping on their drinks of choice. Zelyra inwardly reflected what a strange sight they must have been. Two drow and a half-elf sitting comfortably—for the most part—at a bar together.
It was not until the equivalent of the wee hours of the morning that the companions, at last, returned to their lodgings. It felt like the longest walk through the Blade Bazaar, for more than half of them were drunk. Zelyra, Nine, and Fraeya better resembled mother hens herding wayward chicks as they had to constantly curb Kazimir and Fargas's urge to wander off.
Meanwhile, Sarith trailed far behind the rowdy group as he slowly sipped on a silver flask that the bartender had filled with more Spiderblood wine. At long last, the drow was in a comfortable inebriated state. With it, the whispers in his head had blissfully quieted. What a reprieve! Perhaps, he might finally achieve reverie this eve.
. . .
A frantic knocking on the door of Fraeya and Sarith's lodgings effectively ripped both drow from their reverie mere hours after falling into it. Fraeya rose and cautiously went to the door while Sarith remained curled up on his cot in a daze, desperately clutching at his pounding head. The warrior cursed whoever had disturbed them, for it was the first time in tendays he'd found any rest—there was no telling if he'd be able to find it again so soundly.
Fraeya creaked open the door, only to find a cloaked figure waiting on the other side. The rogue had half a mind to slam the door shut and run back to her cot for her sword, but the figure raised their hands in peace. The hood fell back just enough to reveal the stern features of Captain Errde Blackskull. Fraeya settled and silently gestured for the duergar to come inside.
"What are you doing here?" the rogue asked once the door was shut.
Sarith immediately sat up in his cot at the sight of the duergar captain.
"Sorry to disturb your rest," the captain began swiftly. But Fraeya noted that Blackskull didn't really sound sorry at all. "My guards have a new lead on Droki. He was spotted just hours ago in the Bazaar. The patrol tracked him as far as the West Cleff district before they were forced to turn back. I suggest you make your way there as soon as possible and scout out a series of abandoned tunnels below the city. My sources claim that Droki uses them to smuggle goods from the Bazaar to the Council of Savants."
Fraeya and Sarith took in all the captain had told them in stride.
"And why could this information not wait until we'd rested? Or have been delivered in a note?" the rogue demanded irritably.
Captain Blackskull sneered back at the drow. "Because the situation has escalated substantially since we last spoke! My clan's second-in-command was assassinated not but an hour ago."
"And so now this has become a personal vendetta?" Fraeya surmised.
Captain Blackskull nodded resolutely.
"We have some leads of our own to follow," the drow said. "But we will not seek out these tunnels until everyone has had a proper rest. Unfortunately, some of our companions hit the bottle a little too hard at the Shattered Spire."
The captain rolled her eyes. "Just see to it that this mess is solved, or you will find yourselves back in chains," she threatened.
"So, is that all? Can we get back to our reverie now?" Fraeya asked snappishly.
Rather than respond, Captain Blackskull spun on her heel and saw herself out. The wooden door slammed heavily behind her. Sarith rubbed his temples at the loud, offending sound and cautioned, "I wouldn't go making an enemy out of her, Fraeya. At least not now."
"I'm not! I'm tired and want to return to my reverie," the rogue argued.
Sarith sighed as he rolled over on his side, effectively turning his back to her.
. . .
The equivalent of 'morning' came far too quickly for the companions. Prince Derendil, Fargas, and Kazimir fought splitting headaches. Eldeth was slow-moving as well. Nevertheless, the group met in the Lair's common room for a quick breakfast, and Fraeya shared what information Captain Blackskull had given her and Sarith during the night. After, the party ventured into the Bazaar to restock supplies.
Zelyra, Kazimir, and Prince Derendil briefly stopped at an apothecary to ask about health potions. But upon hearing their asking price set at 100GP, Zelyra quietly told Kazimir that if she had an uninterrupted 8-hour period and the right herbs, she could create a minor health potion for a quarter of the cost. Thus, they decided to hold off and instead inquired as to what other enticing wares the seller had. Unfortunately, everything the shopkeeper showed them was far out of their price range. The duergar eventually became so annoyed by the adventurers' wasting his time that he abruptly turned invisible, thus concluding his dealings with the three.
The party's next stop was a smith shop owned by Clan Ironhead. As Nine, Kazimir, Fraeya, and Sarith entered, they noted that the shop's walls were nearly bare. When they commented on it, the elderly male duergar working the stall grumbled at how the Deepking's family, Clan Steelshadow, had been monopolizing nearly all smithing orders. Subsequently, Clan Ironhead had fallen on hard times. Fortunately, the shop had just enough stock to supply Nine, Fraeya, and Sarith with arrows and bolts. Kazimir also purchased a light crossbow, bolts, and a small blade. The wizard thus returned the borrowed spider-hilt dagger to its drow owner. When business was concluded, the elderly smith diplomatically thanked the adventurers for their purchases—their commissions would feed his family for several days.
As the other half of the party waited outside the smithing shop, Prince Derendil nudged Zelyra and directed her attention to a small derro ducking between shops. The druid, in turn, pointed the figure out to Fargas. The strange individual had a long white beard and was dressed swashbuckler style, complete with knee-high leather boots and a funny-looking leathery hat with two little white puffballs on the ends.
"That must be Droki!" Zelyra exclaimed. "Werz told Fraeya last night that he wears a strange hat!" But before the druid could muster a spell to stop him, the derro ducked into an alley and fell out of sight.
"He's a swift little bugger. Do we follow him?" Fargas asked. [5]
"We can't just run off and leave our companions," the prince said with a heavy sigh.
Zelyra nodded. "I agree. There will be another opportunity, Fargas. I still need to find a new healer's kit. My supplies are running quite low…."
"Ah—you're both right. I'll chip in on the kit, Zelyra," the halfling said with a wry smile. "As you're likely to be using it on me again at some point."
When Kazimir, Sarith, Nine, and Fraeya rejoined their companions, they were informed that Droki had just been spotted in the Bazaar. But, like Zelyra and Derendil had argued, the others agreed that pursuing the derro would have to wait. The group instead headed for a general supply store. Unfortunately, the shopkeep only had one healer's kit in stock, and it had seen far better days. Zelyra and Fargas split the purchase anyway. It was far better to have it than not.
Just as the group was to conclude their shopping and make their way to the West Cleff district, Kazimir was stopped by an eccentric half-orc shop owner with a pop-up tent claiming to sell oddities and rare items.
"You look like the type of individual who would appreciate such things," the half-orc told the tiefling.
Kazimir grinned and said, "You have my attention, friend. What do you have that might benefit a learned individual such as myself?"
The half-orc began to furiously riffle through his storefront. Every so often, he would pause, sticking out his tongue as if in deep thought, before returning to his search. The half-orc passed over a cloak of pure starlight, a glowing yellow vial, a severed, decomposed head of a Giant Elk, and a bar of soap. Instead, he selected a small tan drawstring bag.
"Look inside! Look inside!" the half-orc repeated eagerly as he gave the bag to Kazimir.
It was a seemingly ordinary bag made from tan cloth. The wizard drew it open, only to find it completely empty. Before Kazimir had the chance to question the half-orc, the eccentric proprietor cackled and said, "Now, reach a hand inside."
"I don't know if I want to do that," Kazimir replied warily.
"It won't harm!" the half-orc promised. "It's the only way to see what is inside."
Kazimir turned back to his companions, only to receive shrugs and worried looks.
"This is your death wish," Fraeya told him bluntly.
"That's it! I'm doing it—just to prove you wrong," the wizard boasted.
The rogue rolled her eyes, and Kazimir plunged his hand into the bag. And when he removed it, a small object lay within his palm. It was circular, soft, and furry, nearly the size of a standard pom-pom.
"Now, toss it!" the half-orc bade.
When Kazimir did so, a burst of magic activated as the puffball touched the ground—akin to a firecracker exploding on a city street. In the fuzzy item's former space now stood a fully-grown black bear. The beast curiously sniffed the air and then examined the colorful new realm so very different from his home on the Ethereal Plane. As the bear's gaze met Kazimir's, he instantly recognized the wizard as a friend and bounded up to him while making happy bear noises.
Kazimir stroked the black bear's head in amazement. "A bag of tricks? I presume," he asked.
The half-orc gave the wizard a toothy grin. "That would be correct. Each puffball embodies a different animal. Three can be utilized per day, and the summoned animal remains until they fall unconscious or twenty-four hours have passed, whichever comes first."
"The equivalent of a familiar, then," the wizard pondered.
"But far more potent," the half-orc leered.
Kazimir continued to pet the happy bear's furry head before asking, "Okay, how much for Mr. Bear and his friends?"
The half-orc mulled over his chosen price before saying, "375GP."
Kazimir was not the only one to croak over the hefty price tag. None of the adventurers were the owners of that much gold. Fortunately, the tiefling had another trick up his sleeve. He reached into his coin purse and removed the strange coin he had found in the boneyard before the group had battled Buppido.
"How about a trade? One unique item for another. This rare coin is worth far more than 375GP if shown to the right collector. It was found in a strange cavern full of bones that rose and came to life to attack at the call of a great necromancer!" Kazimir dynamically spun. With his every word, the half-orc's eyes grew wider and wider in wonder. Finally, the tiefling smirked and asked, "So, do we have a deal, my friend?"
"A deal we have, indeed!" the half-orc grinned, snatching up the rare coin.
After the half-orc carefully placed the coin into a display case, he promptly began closing up shop. When the tent's flaps were all closed, the eccentric merchant disappeared within, not to be seen again. [6]
With their shopping officially concluded, the adventurers left the Blade Bazaar and headed south through the city, towards Laduguer's Furrow and the West Cleff District. Long ago, a terrible earthquake rocked Gracklstugh, leaving a chasm that would forever split the city in two. The rift was nearly two hundred feet deep and spanned over five hundred feet wide. It extended for a quarter mile or more in either direction, passing even the city's outer walls. A packed gravel floor lay at its bottom, and at each end, there were sets of stairs and ramps to allow pedestrians and wagons to safely cross to the other side.
Presently blocking the rift from view, however, was a stone gate and guardhouse manned by a force of over twenty Stoneguard. Naturally, they immediately demanded to know the approaching party's intentions, for outsiders were not allowed in this part of Gracklstugh. So too, were the guards wary of the strange dark beast that walked at Kazimir's side. Fortunately, the Stoneguard begrudgingly acquiesced to their passing with a mere flash of their badges.
But no sooner had the guards pulled the gate lever did the stone beneath their feet begin to shake. The rhythmic hammering of the city's forges was drowned out by a great commotion on the other side of the wall. Shouts and screams rose. And before any of the adventurers could understand the rising panic of the Stoneguard, the gate abruptly shattered to splinters. In a cloud of debris stood a stone giant with a mutated second head sprouting from his neck. Granite-gray skin, gaunt features, and black, sunken eyes endowed the normally peaceful giants with a stern countenance. But presently, this creature's eyes were glazed over and crazed. Both heads roared with unyielding fury as they swept two mighty fists through the crowd, crushing and instantly killing two Stoneguard. Their broken bodies were unceremoniously hurled through the air, only to smash into the ground near the party with sickening crunches.
The adventurers immediately took up a defensive position alongside three other Stoneguard. The guards launched bolts from their heavy crossbows while Eldeth immediately threw herself headlong into the fray. The dwarf pushed aside any doubt she might have felt upon realizing that she would be raging into melee alone instead of alongside a fellow fighter. But she was, in fact, not alone. As the Eldeth cleaved her beloved battle-axe into the stone giant's calf, Zelyra appeared bearing an ignited Flameruin. The druid briefly nodded at her dwarven companion as she slashed at the giant from a flanking position.
Sarith, Nine, and Fraeya maintained their distance, allowing them to properly utilize their respective ranged weapons. Derendil soon joined Eldeth and Zelyra in melee, begrudgingly striking with his claws and biting with bloody teeth. Fargas came at the giant with his blackened dagger whilst Kazimir readied a deadly lightning spell for when his friends were clear of the crazy giant. The wizard unleashed his spell as the giant hurled a chunk of stone at Zelyra and Eldeth. The pair dived out of the way just as a bolt of lightning, not unlike what Buppido had used against his former companions in the bone den, arced across the plaza. Electricity flickered and sparked as the bolt struck the launching stone and the giant. A burnt smell then hung in the air as it seared the creature's flesh.
The stone giant roared in fury and charged the poor wizard.
Kazimir made a loud screeching sound and dove for cover.
A rivaling roar of fury shook the battlefield as Mr. Bear came to his master's aid. But a mighty sweep of the stone giant's fists severed the summoned beast's connection to the Material Plane. Mr. Bear disappeared in a blinding flash of magic. Kazimir breathed deeply and let loose another deadly bolt.
Though dozens of bolts and arrows met their mark, the creature still raged on. One Stoneguard fell to the giant's mighty fists, while a second lay on the ground unmoving, his spine utterly shattered. He shrieked in agony, yet there was nothing the adventurers could do to ease his pain, for even Zelyra's healing magic could not regrow bone.
Kazimir zigzagged through the plaza in terror, firing off bolts of flame to deter the giant's hot pursuit. At this point, the space was littered with broken debris and rock. It was a wonder that the tiefling remained on his feet instead of tripping over a wayward stone.
As she was no longer engaged with the giant in melee, Zelyra took a step back and turned her eyes to the cavern's ceiling. She reached upwards with a single hand, and wisps of cloud began to form one hundred feet above them. They quickly darkened, growing to a swirling storm. And when the druid made a forceful downward gesture with a clenched fist, thunder rumbled. A second bolt of blinding electricity arced from the cloud and struck the stone giant.
Her spell might have distracted the giant from its pursuit of Kazimir, but the druid found herself now the subject of its rage. The creature swiped up a chunk of stone and flung it in her direction. But just as surely as the rock would have crushed her, Prince Derendil threw himself in front of the druid to take the hit for her. He dropped before her, his ribs now cracked and heavily bruised. Zelyra shrieked and scrambled to his side. Derendil's chest rose and fell shakily with pained breaths. But it wasn't just that that worried Zelyra. The prince's clear green eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he growled up at the druid. This was the face of an individual Zelyra did not recognize. It was the look of a beast—not a friend.
"Prince Derendil!" Zelyra beseeched. "Calm yourself! The danger has passed!"
The druid scooted away from the quaggoth, afraid of what he might do in his rage. All the same, spectral vines burst from the earth to cocoon the prince's battered body. It would not be as effective as her touch but would still soothe his wounds. As the healing spell washed over him, Derendil relaxed and returned to his senses. The prince breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing he had not lost control. He had not harmed Zelyra. It was a struggle he endured in silence each day; to suppress the will of the beast so ardently.
Meanwhile, the giant raged on. Now, its ire was focused on Fargas as the nimble halfling daringly raced between its legs, cutting and slashing as he went. Eldeth came to his aid, and the pair turned the fight into a game of cat and mouse. Whenever the giant would go to strike at one, the other would goad it. It kept the stone giant's focus split in confusion, allowing Nine, Fraeya, Sarith, and the last remaining Stoneguard to fire their ranged attacks freely.
"Is this a normal problem?!" Fraeya shouted to the guard as they fought near her.
The panicked duergar shook their head. "No! Dorhun and the rest of his kind of peaceful and generally keep to their own! They are allied closely with our King!" [7]
Fraeya curiously studied the rampaging giant's crazed features, taking note of the strange protrusion sprouting from its neck. Then, a sudden correlation came to her as she recalled a greater demon with similar unyielding rage that also sported two heads.
"Something is very wrong," the rogue cried out to her companions. "Bring him down, but don't kill him! He's been cursed!"
At her warning, Kazimir reacted, for he had just the spell prepared. As the wizard's right hand traced a deft pattern in the air, his left subtly tugged on the delicate threads of the Weave. His magic touched the giant, but it did not harm it. Instead, Dohrun felt a wave of sudden exhaustion fall over him. The giant fought against it, but Kazimir's will was strong—as was his connection to the Weave. The stone giant's movements slowed, and his eyes drooped until, at last, he tumbled over and skidded across the ground, carving a deep impression into the earth.
The adventurers took a moment to catch their breath in the wake of the attack.
"Way to go, Kaz!" Eldeth enthusiastically cheered the wizard.
"Yes, that was quick thinking," Fraeya agreed as she dusted herself off.
Kazimir quirked an eyebrow. "Did you just offer me a compliment?"
"Don't get too cocky," the drow sneered. "Lest I take it back."
Again, the ground began to shake. The battered adventurers and remaining Stoneguard readied their weapons. A second stone giant appeared, standing over nine feet tall. But this one's gaze was perfectly lucid, and only one head sat upon its neck. They looked out at the fallen body of their fellow giant, observed how the chest rose and fell with snoozing breaths, and bowed their head in relief. At the same time, a unit of Stoneguard arrived as reinforcement. The surviving guard quickly informed them of the party's involvement in bringing down the rampaging giant.
"My name is Rihuud, apprentice to Stonespeaker Hgraam. You have my clan's thanks for not killing Dohrun," the giant told the adventurers in Undercommon. "He needs medicine."
"What happened to him? Why does he have two heads?" Fraeya asked urgently.
Rihuud's face turned grim. "We cannot say. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Dohrun was speaking with the stones when he suddenly went berserk. He stormed out of our cavern before I, or Hgraam, could stop him."
"How exactly does one 'speak' with the stones?" Fargas inquired.
"Perhaps this would be a conversation better had in Cairngorm Cavern alongside Stonespeaker—"
But Rihuud's suggestion was abruptly cut off by the sound of clapping. In their distraction of speaking to Rihuud, the adventurers had missed that a secondary host of duergar had appeared. These were different from the Stoneguard. Rather than wearing short dark blue cloaks, these individuals were swathed in flowing red ceremonial robes or red-tinged plate mail. Their weapons were shiny and sharp, appearing far finer crafted than the tools held by the Stoneguard. The male duergar at the group's head bore a brass pin with a dragon head on it. To the companions' surprise, Rihuud immediately submitted to the red-robed individuals, going so far as to bow his head to them in respect. Likewise, the Stoneguard stepped back and kept their distance.
"You will have your conversation, Rihuud, I promise. But presently, these mercenaries are to accompany me to the Keepers of the Flame barracks in the Flowstone District," the leader said, his snappish tone leaving little room for argument.
"Excuse me?" Fraeya burst. "Who are you?!"
"Gartokkar Xundom, head cleric of the Keepers of the Flame," the duergar barked in introduction. "I have a task for you and your companions."
"And what if we refuse?" Fraeya boldly replied. "We're already working for Captain Blackskull and the Stoneguard." The rogue then flashed her Stoneguard badge, but Gartokkar was wholly unmoved by the gesture. If anything, his look soured.
Sarith elbowed his fellow drow and urgently shook his head. Fraeya did not know it, but the Keepers of the Flame had far more influence than Errde Blackskull and the Stoneguard within the city. They worked directly for the Deepking as his personal security force of psionic clerics. They also oversaw the work of Themberchaud, the red dragon wyrmsmith. Thus, Sarith knew that the badges Captain Blackskull had given them would be of no use in this situation. The Keepers of the Flame answered to the Deepking and the Deepking alone. If Gartokkar requested an audience with them, the companions had no choice but to comply.
Gartokkar soon confirmed this as he narrowed his eyes and hissed, "You do not have that option. I care not what that paranoid old fool asked of you. Either you come with me willingly, or you will be subdued by force."
"That's what everyone keeps saying," Fraeya grumbled.
Again, Sarith elbowed her, and to Gartokkar, he said, "We will go with you willing."
"We will have our conversation later," Rihuud told the adventurers as he, too, conceded to a higher power within the city.
"I will personally see to it that they are safely escorted to Cairngorm Caverns when they are ready," Gartokkar said to Rihuud.
The stone giant nodded his thanks before excusing himself to attend to Dohrun. Shortly after Gartokkar's abrupt entrance, the cursed stone giant had woken from his magically induced slumber. Fortunately, whatever madness had overcome him had passed—but the second head remained.
Dohrun looked at the destruction around him in confusion and asked Rihuud, "What happened, brother? What have I done?"
Rihuud sadly shook his head and silently bid Dohrun to follow him. The pair solemnly took their leave and quickly disappeared deep into Laduguer's Furrow. With the stone giants gone, the adventurers had no choice but to accompany Gartokkar to the Keepers of the Flame barracks in the Flowstone District.
[1] Fun fact: Fraeya's player rolled a natural 20 to hit Sarith in the back of the head with that piece of bread. :D
[2] Loot. Zelyra took the bag of holding along with the lapis lazuli spell gem. Fraeya and Sarith usually held on to the pair of sending stones, though they were occasionally passed around. The scroll of see invisibility was given to Kazimir to copy into his spellbook. It. Was. Clutch.
Important note on the sending stones. They have a use limit of three times per day AND can only transmit 25 words at a time. But…we didn't realize that until halfway through the campaign. So we basically treated them as the equivalent of telepathic walkie-talkies. They were probably the most important magical item we obtained during the game, and since we used them *constantly*, I can't undo that mistake.
[3] Darklake Stout. I remember having to make CON saves for consuming the potent ale, but I can't find the specifics now in the module.
[4] Spiderblood wine. A mushroom wine crafted by the drow includes a substantial dose of venom from poisonous spiders. Its taste is remarkable and unlike anything encountered on the surface world. Anyone not used to drinking such a wine (usually a non-drow) must make a successful Constitution save (DC 11) or be poisoned, in addition to making the secondary Constitution save against intoxication (DC 11). Those wishing to overcome this poisonous effect must drink one glass over several hours every day for three months. Drow will typically consume small amounts as children over months or years to build up an immunity to the poisonous effects of the wine. (I think this comes from the 3rd edition.)
[5] I didn't realize that 'bugger' was a swear word in the UK until Word alerted me that I was using 'offensive language,' lol. So, if I have any UK friends reading this, please know that I'm using it as slang for 'small animal'—which is ironic since Fargas is the one saying it—and not in any abusive or sexual manner.
[6] On shopping: I didn't want to drag out an entire chapter by having the characters go around to different stalls, so I summarized most of it. I hope it worked okay? If not, I can rework it.
Our first trip to the Blade Bazaar was an eye-opening experience. We were so excited to get some new goodies, only to find out how *expensive* everything was. (Again, this is telling of DM/husband's 'realistic' playing style). It's like the equate of shopping in a remote place…or that other dreaded word—inflation. Goods are hard to come by (especially magic items). Thus, their worth skyrockets. I'd like to think most Underdark markets are priced twice what a similar item would be worth on the surface.
[7] I realized while writing this chapter that we accidentally switched the roles of module-defined characters Dohrun and Rihuud. As Rihuud becomes an important NPC in his current position, I'm leaving it the way we did our playthrough.
I had full intentions of posting this much sooner…but I got distracted in watching and then rewatching Rings of Power twice. Oops. This has not been proofread by DM/husband, so I'm sure there is all manner of silly errors.
If it seems like the party is being pulled in 9328528106 directions, they are. Just wait! It gets worse! But I promise all these little threads will converge for a satisfying end. We spent most of our Gracklstugh arc in mass confusion as we tried to connect all the plot hooks that DM/husband threw at us…