I wanted this chapter ready for Halloween because I think it would have been fitting, but alas…October was far too busy. So, without further ado… :D

Chapter Twenty-Five

An Undying Pledge

1485 DR / Day 34

The Whorlstone Tunnels, Gracklstugh

After completing the messy business of hiding Droki's body, the adventurers continued to explore the winding Whorlstone Tunnels. Fraeya and Fargas took the lead and scouted ahead while Sarith sluggishly trailed at the party's rear. Though the others had pressed him about what caused him to snap, the drow warrior was noticeably sullen and quiet and refused to speak on the matter—even to Fraeya. But neither did he clean Droki's blood from his swords, which struck the rogue as odd. Was it possible he regretted his loss of control? Surely it was not genuine guilt or remorse? A typical drow did not know such feelings.

The companions found the path split three ways at the chamber's end. To the left was a tall fissure that led to a small cavity that was short and squat. Derendil would not fit down it at all. The center pathway was a continuation of the current chamber, except a large pool of water blocked the way forward. Its strange, blackened waters were deadly calm, and something about the sour scent that hung in the air around it made the companions uneasy. The opposite shore was nearly one hundred feet away.

When Zelyra insisted on checking the waters for poison before anyone attempted a crossing, she found the pool entirely disease-ridden. The cause was soon revealed when Nine spotted a severed dark tentacle floating some ten feet from the shore. Seconds later, Fraeya noticed more body parts floating further out in the dark water—and they did not all appear to be from the same creature. Some, in fact, many were humanoid. Perhaps it was nothing more than a battle gone wrong, but it was enough to make the companions avoid the diseased waters like the plague. That left the third option, the tunnel to the right.

"I don't really care for the smell coming from that direction either," Zelyra told the group.

"What does it smell like? I don't smell anything," Fraeya asked the druid curiously.

Zelyra sniffed the air and thought for a moment. Then, she bluntly said, "Death."

"Well, now! That doesn't bode well either," Nine said. "Perhaps we should just try to bypass the pool."

"How? Not all of us can shapeshift into a giant spider and crawl across the ceiling," the rogue argued. "Zelyra is the only one with a sure way across. As for the rest of us—we've got no boat, the walls are too steep to scale, and the opposite shore is so far away that we don't have a hope of spanning a rope across," she listed.

The ranger scowled. "Or we could just abandon this folly altogether! We take the toenail clippings and the journal back to Blackskull, tell her Droki was delivering them to the Grey Ghosts and the Empty Scabbard Killers, and be done with it."

"It's not enough proof," Kazimir said. "And don't forget we still have to find Thunderchode's replacement."

"Must you call the dragon that?" Fraeya asked tiredly.

The tiefling shrugged with wide-eyed false innocence as he fought to hold back a snigger.

"Fine, we'll take the third passageway but let it be known that I explicitly do not approve of this and think it's a trap," Nine grumbled.

"You think everything is a trap…." Kazimir muttered with a roll of his eyes. Nine narrowed her eyes but did not make a counter-response. Instead, she looked down at something near his feet. The tiefling followed her gaze and saw that Stool had curiously sidled up alongside him. "Do you need something, buddy?" he asked the sprout.

Stool briefly bounced back and forth on their nubbed feet, then went trotting off towards a thicket of strange-looking red and blue mushrooms. The red ones were taller and had thicker stalks than the blue ones. When the tiefling joined the sprout by the strange fungi patch, Stool released a cloud of rapport spores so that they could communicate their request.

"C-could you collect some samples for me to take back to the Sovereigns?" Stool asked shyly.

"Sovereigns?" the tiefling echoed curiously.

"The protectors of Neverlight Grove," the sprout explained. "They are the old ones. Basidia has served the Grove for many generations of sprouts, but Phylo came to the Circle just before I was earthed. They brought others of our kind, and since then, the two Sovereigns have served together."

Kazimir knelt by the fungi patch and pulled out a knife to cut away a few stalks. But then, he thought better of it and asked, "What exactly are these, Stool?"

"I don't know what the surfacers call them," Stool admitted. "But they won't harm if that's what you're afraid of."

"It was," Kazimir admitted as he began cutting away a few samples.

"One makes you small. The other makes you bigger," the sprout explained.

When the mushroom samples were folded in cloth and safely tucked away in his knapsack, the tiefling said, "Something like that might come in handy… I hope you don't mind if I keep one of each sample for study. The rest can go to your Sovereigns." When Stool happily agreed, Kazimir said, "Let's hurry back. I see that Fraeya has a rather impatient look on her face…."

When the pair met back up with the others, Fargas and Fraeya led the way down the tunnel on the left, scouting forty feet ahead of the rest of the group. Unfortunately, within minutes of entering the tunnel, everyone else began to smell the same rotten stench Zelyra had warned them of. Still, they pressed on. But Fraeya curiously noted that the faerzress had changed. Rather than emitting a pale grey glow as in the first chamber, it was sickly green in color and pulsed rhythmically instead of flowing fluidly.

A low fog gradually settled about knee high to the drow and nearly reached Fargas's chest. It was so thick that it obscured everything on the chamber floor beneath them. Thus, the rogue pair's advance was slow and cautious. More than once, they stumbled over something that felt soft and fleshy, but both were too unnerved to reach into the fog to find out what it was. Whatever it was, at least it was not moving.

"Probably just some stray waterorb," Fargas whispered.

"Probably," Fraeya echoed, though she was uncertain.

Shortly after, the passage opened into a circular room. Here, the stench of decay was unbearable. And it was soon apparent why. The fog ended just outside the chamber. Fraeya and Fargas glimpsed the stone floor for the first time and instantly felt their stomachs drop.

A trail of bodies.

Or rather, body parts.

Severed hands, fingers, toes, legs, torsos, a head or two, belonging to all manner of small-statured Underdark denizens like derro, deep gnomes, a few goblins, as well as a couple of grimlocks. Scattered among the fleshy humanoid parts were skeletons and the dissected bodies of beasts of burden, most notably, giant spiders. All these decomposing parts were carefully arranged in a spiral pattern that circled up to a plateau in the room's center to form a makeshift altar. A hunched figure stood there, humming an eerie, off-tuned melody as they piddled around with something strapped down to it.

Do we approach? Fargas gestured to Fraeya in a rough version of thieves' cant.

Against her better judgement, Fraeya nodded.

The humming abruptly stopped as the pair crept into the room.

"Don't worry, I'm almost finished now," a chilling voice hissed in Undercommon. "Just a little more… All for His glory!"

Fraeya felt her heart leap into her throat, and Fargas visibly paled. The figure whirled around, granting them a look at his face—but they hadn't needed that to know who the individual was.

The one that got away.

Their former companion turned enemy.

Buppido.

It didn't make any sense. Why here, in the tunnels, of all places? But his form was unmistakable. He was still thin as a rail with nearly translucent skin stretched over bone, a shock of white hair, and milky eyes that lacked an iris and pupil. But that was where the similarities ended. A vicious grin now split his dark-lipped mouth, and his black-robed torso was splattered with blood.

"My Gods," Fargas suddenly breathed. "He killed him."

Fraeya had been so preoccupied staring at Buppido that she failed to see what the derro had been busied with on the altar. She, too, could not hold back her gasp of disgust once she saw it. The body's torso had been flayed open, the entrails carefully rearranged in an artful pattern, and the head nearly severed from the shoulders. Fresh blood dripped from the gaping wound, indicating it was a fresh kill. And it had to be, for Fraeya had just spoken to the now-deceased individual just hours earlier.

It was a duergar. And despite the horridness of the scene, both Fraeya and Fargas were secretly relieved that it was not a brass dragonborn. But the question then begged: why? Why was their contact, Werz Saltbaron, lying dead on an altar?

Buppido read the question on their faces and cackled, "A sad sap in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've always hated those Grey Ghosts—always trying to steal our territory! Alas, in stumbling into mine, this one was rewarded the most honorable death! Now he gets to be part of the gift to the Undying Master!"

"A sicker individual has never lived…." Fargas cursed in disbelief.

"If you two are here, then surely the others are not far behind. Call them in! Hurry now! Yes, yes…this will work out nicely. We may pick up where we left off!" Buppido chittered eagerly.

Knowing there was no going back, Fraeya urgently bade Sarith to bring everyone into the room using her sending stone.

"What did you find?" the warrior asked disinterestedly.

"Well, let's just say this is one head you could lop off, and I wouldn't say a word," Fraeya replied.

The rogue was unwilling to take her eyes off Buppido as they waited for the others' arrival. She did not trust him not to sneak an attack at her as her back was turned—a drow would. Buppido knew this and stared Fraeya down with that same creepy, wide-toothed grin full of malice. Beside her, Fargas anxiously bounced on the balls of his feet.

A few seconds later, shuffling near the mouth of the chamber told Fraeya that the others had met up with them. Sharp gasps, curses, and dry heaving—that one, presumably Zelyra—soon filled the space as they, too, recognized their former companion and the one that he'd just killed.

"You foul creature! Where's Balasar?!" Eldeth immediately bellowed in Common.

Buppido smirked and replied, also in Common, "That's not why we're all here."

The shield dwarf tightened her hands on the handle of her beloved battle axe. A murderous, red-hot rage filled her as she again asked, "I say: where is he?! What unnaturalness have ye done to him?!"

Zelyra wiped the sickness away from her mouth with the back of her hand. The smell in Buppido's chamber was more unbearable than anything she'd ever experienced. She had, of course, lost the battle with her stomach. But at least she'd missed Derendil's feet this time… Her own boots nearly took the brunt this time. The druid took calming breaths as her eyes surveyed the terrible place. "I don't see him, Eldeth. I don't think he's here," she said.

"Not even a part of him?" the shield dwarf growled back.

The druid shook her head, but Eldeth still did not back down. Despite Zelyra's instance, she could not accept it. They could not afford such hope. And so, in true hot-headed, dwarf fashion, she bravely hoisted her battle axe to her shoulder and bellowed out a vengeful war cry. Then, before any of her companions could stop her, Eldeth led a single man charge across the bloody chamber towards Buppido.

The necromancer grinned. It was precisely what he had predicted. "Don't worry, your deaths will be the sweetest. You're the last piece I need," he snarled as he chanted ominously in Abyssal.

The eerie fog, which had previously been contained to the tunnel outside, drifted into the room. With it, a horde of skeletons arose. The adventurers once again found themselves fighting the undead. However, being their fourth time now fighting such creatures, the adventurers easily settled into comfortable, battle-ready positions. Most of their attacks would not fully touch the undead, but they had confidence that Zelyra's moonfire could.

Nine and Fraeya found pillars and stalagmites to take cover behind as they launched arrow after arrow at the main prize—Buppido. Prince Derendil and Fargas formed a protective melee barrier in front of Zelyra and Kazimir as the spellcasters readied destructive spells. A powerful lightning bolt from the wizard instantly cut down a line of shambling skeletons while the druid's dancing beam of radiant moonfire incinerated several others.

The only one who didn't follow the mold of how the companions typically performed in battle was Sarith. Instead of hanging back and favoring his crossbow, the drow warrior drew his twin swords and raced towards Buppido at the altar. He quickly flanked the necromancer opposite Eldeth. And while the shield dwarf admittedly would have preferred any of her companion's aid to his, it was better than having none.

Sarith took one look at Werz Saltbaron's disemboweled, disgraced body and launched a deadly dual sweep of swords against Buppido. He had no idea where the heroism came from. He had no loyalty to Werz, just as he had no true allegiance to any of these wretched surface dwellers. His only connection to the group was Fraeya. And she was mystifyingly full of righteous anger, so—

Thrown off by Sarith's unexpected tactics, Buppido summoned his patron-gifted dagger and began to slowly hack away at the dwarf and drow. He was quick and agile and had no qualms about tumbling and sliding beneath the taller creature's legs to cut at their ankles. And when he saw that the spellcasters were making quick work of his raised undead, he knew he needed more reinforcements. The necromancer slipped a hand into his robe and briefly touched an Abyssal symbol that had been painstakingly carved upon his chest.

"Come! My undying servants!" the deranged derro bellowed.

A roar sounded from an opposite chamber, a direction the adventurers had yet to explore. It was followed by a second answering howl. Then, from the darkness, two sickening creatures appeared. Until now, the adventurers' foes were mostly skeletal and smaller in stature. This pair was most strangely drow—or rather, they had been in life. Now they were what was more commonly known as a ghoul, emaciated and hairless with rotten, decaying flesh that stretched tight over their bones. They had the sharp teeth of a carnivore and sunken, black eyes that could burn the soul as surely as a hot iron pressed to bare flesh. The ghouls charged across the bloody cavern and tore through the makeshift barricade that Prince Derendil and Fargas had formed in front of the spellcasters. Presently, Buppido read them as the biggest threat to his ritual—especially the druid's blasted moonfire.

Zelyra shrieked as one of the ghouls wrestled her into a near chokehold. Her concentration was broken with that initial brutal attack, and the disastrous moonfire faded from the field. The ghoul raked at her with its claws, but when it realized their paralyzing effect did nothing due to her fey ancestry, it savagely bit down on her neck instead. In a panic and fight for her life, the druid somehow managed to draw Flameruin and slashed outwards to cut across the undead creature's stomach. Zelyra then arced the sword around to stand at attention between them. Flameruin ignited to its name, and the ghoul screeched as the sudden bright light blinded it. [1]

When it recovered, the creature came for her a second time. But this time, the druid swung her shield with her opposite arm, ramming the once-drow creature away. It tumbled back, straight into Prince Derendil's waiting arms. The quaggoth savagely tore into it with his claws. All proper reason had left him. The moment he saw Zelyra and Kazimir in danger, the beast within took over to protect them.

Panting in terror but safe for the moment, the druid looked around for Kazimir, only to find him frozen in place and unmoving as the second ghoul suckled at the exposed skin on his neck and prepared for a proper bite. Fargas had paused his attacks to uselessly tug on Kazimir's arm, but the ghoul's clawed attack had left the wizard utterly paralyzed. There was nothing the halfling could do to snap him out of it.

"Peanut—go!" Zelyra urgently bid her fey mouse companion as she rushed to Prince Derendil's aid.

The fey mouse scurried out of his hiding place in her braid, down the druid's arm, and sprang towards the wizard. His tiny little claws latched onto Kazimir's robes, and Zelyra's held spell of restoration activated as they made contact. Kazimir tore out of the ghoul's grasp just as its rotten teeth were about to pierce his throat.

In retribution for the near bite, the tiefling pointed a single finger at the undead creature and calmly said, "Burn!" in Infernal.

Hellfire instantly engulfed the ghoul. It screeched and wailed and uselessly tried to bat out the hellish flames, to no avail. And in its distraction, Fargas launched his black-handled dagger at the undead creature from behind. It sank into the base of the ghoul's spinal cord with a sickening squish.

"Thanks, Fargas," the tiefling breathed in relief as the ghoul fell to the ground, twitching but very much dead.

"Don't thank me, thank Peanut!" the halfling panted in disbelief.

Kazimir plucked the fey mouse from where he clung to his sleeve and held the grey, fuzzy creature up to his face. "Thank you, Peanut," the wizard said sincerely. "I see you and Zelyra have some tricks up your sleeves."

Peanut's whiskers wiggled up and down in happy acknowledgement.

"Now," the wizard continued. "Let's put you somewhere safe until this nightmare is over…."

Kazimir ultimately slipped Peanut into a side pocket of his robes. The fey mouse curled up in the cozy space and fell asleep in moments despite the still-raging battle. His work, at least, was complete.

Meanwhile, Buppido slowly faded on the altar to Sarith and Eldeth's vicious attacks. His life-draining dagger might have helped him to regain some stamina, but for how long? For every strike he made against one of them, four came back at him—two cleaves of Eldeth's battle-axe and one slash from each of Sarith's swords. His raised skeletons were toast. And his ghouls—a pair of noble drow elves he'd fortuitously managed to ensnare—were soon to be ravaged if the damned quaggoth had anything to say about it. Realizing he desperately needed the regroup, the necromancer snapped his fingers and disappeared without a trace.

"Where did he go?!" Sarith snarled as he wiped a bit of blood from his mouth.

Eldeth whirled around breathlessly. "I've no idea!"

Unbeknownst to the bewildered shield dwarf and drow, an invisible Buppido scurried down the plateau and fled for the far part of his death-filled cavern. Here, his secret horde lay, including several spell scrolls gifted to him by the elder one, Qualax. He hadn't thought he would need to waste such gifts against petty fools, but they'd grown in power since he'd last battled them and wizened to his efforts, so it seemed.

Buppido retrieved three scrolls. One, he immediately expended, sending a beam of dark, crackling necromantic energy at Prince Derendil. It struck the quaggoth square in the back, and he soon found himself engulfed in strange green flames that did not burn. Instead, they seemed to suck all the life out of his bones. The prince staggered and ultimately kept his footing, but the magical attack left him drained and susceptible to the ghoul's assault. [2]

Fortunately for the adventurers, the expense of the first scroll rendered Buppido's invisibility spell useless. He was now visible and vulnerable again to his enemies' attacks. Sarith and Eldeth thundered down from the altar and charged in his direction. He let them get three-quarters of the way across the cavern before reading the second scroll. He finished with a snap of his fingers and activated a dimensional door that took him back to his original position at the altar. The time it would take for the pair to retrace their steps would give the necromancer enough time to activate the third and final scroll.

Zelyra teamed up with Prince Derendil to finish the final ghoul but not before the undead creature made a vicious swipe that shredded the prince's already damaged robes. They hung fully open now, exposing his bestial chest. Derendil responded with a brutal return swipe of his claws that crushed the ghoul's skull. It fell to the ground dead, and as it did, the prince looked down at his bloody claws in a slight horror that they could have caused so much damage.

Nine and Fraeya took out the last of the summoned skeletons, and Kazimir had a naughty look on his face that made it clear that he was about to unleash some destructive magic. Buppido realized then it was his time to move. The third scroll he had grabbed was a gamble, but if he did not try, he would lose, and all his work would be for not! So, with a sudden zealousness, he unfurled it. It was less of a magical enchantment and more of a…binding agreement…a temporary summoning. He placed one hand on Orcus's altar and then loudly and clearly recited the Abyssal words on the scroll, though few could understand them.

Kazimir paused in the middle of his incantation, for surely, Buppido would not do something so damning to his soul even in his madness.

The cavern suddenly quaked, and a terrible, jagged line of green energy appeared in the open space in front of Buppido. It was accompanied by a ripping sound as the line expanded and tore into the very fabric of Weave. The line grew wider until it formed a proper portal that revealed a dark landscape, not unlike the wilds of the Underdark. Out of the portal came a giant, dark-clawed hand attached to an arm of dark reddish flesh. In that clawed hand was a strange weapon, a black obsidian and iron rod topped with the skull of a human.

"You ask to serve me for all eternity," a stomach-turning voice bellowed in Abyssal. It came from the portal, yet everyone in the room could hear it and understand it in their heads.

"Yes, Master!" Buppido screeched. "I know what it is that I ask for! I swear my soul to you! Just let me continue my work!"

"And will you? In this plane or the Abyss?"

"Yes, Master!"

The eyes on the skull suddenly began to glow. A mist then streamed out of the mouth to consume Buppido's form. As it did, the necromancer's shape changed to double in size. The Prince of Undeath's blessing flayed away the body, mind, and soul of what was once Buppido to leave behind a sentient husk. When the dreadful transformation was complete, the rod and arm disappeared into the portal, and the gateway promptly shut.

Buppido now resembled somewhat of an enlarged derro, though now sexless and muscular. His skin had turned a deathly pale white, and his body was devoid of all hair, like the ghouls. But most terrifying was the creature's face, which resembled nothing of what it was before. Instead, it was twisted into an inhuman visage of sheer madness and horror, with empty, milky-white eyes that stretched into the shape of vertical ovals. And when the creature—an undying servant of Orcus known as a bodak—opened its mouth to speak, a hiss came forth from it that tore down each of the adventurers' spines. They found themselves troubled to even glance at it; such was its abysmal horror.

"By the Gods!" Kazimir exclaimed in disbelief.

In the wake of the transformation, the others were similarly taken aback. Sarith was the first to break from the trance and took off in a sprint toward the plateau. Eldeth followed, but her stubby strides quickly fell behind the nimble drow.

Out of the corner of her eye, Zelyra saw Sarith running, and instinct took over. Perhaps it was part of her daze from the ghoul's earlier vicious attack, but for a moment, the druid swore that she saw twin scimitars in his hands, not short swords. Zelyra rushed into the drow's path and dropped to one knee, bracing her shield at an angle against her shoulder. She could get him up onto the plateau faster with a bit of momentum.

"Varan—shield!" she cried unthinkingly in the language of her people.

But Sarith didn't even blink. He'd already caught on to her idea. Just as he would have crashed into her, the drow pushed off the shield with his foot. Zelyra held firm, pushing back with all her might. The combined effort sent Sarith springing into the air, and as he rose, Zelyra sent a conjured torrent of wind on his heels, allowing him to breach the plateau with ease. [3]

The drow warrior savagely brought his swords up and then down, slicing into the demon that was once Buppido with a growl. As his blades struck, he averted his gaze as he'd heard tales of these dangerous servants of Orcus before. To look upon their face could render one insane—and Sarith already had enough problems in that department. He was used to fighting blind, anyways. It had been his staple trick at Melee-Magthere.

Zelyra laughed despite herself as the drow landed and still could not say what had come over her. When she'd seen the dual wielder rushing across the field, she hadn't even stopped to think. The shield trick was a combat maneuver her Circle frequently used with their rangers—not all of them had magical boots like Varan. A wave of sadness then washed over her at that thought. What she wouldn't give to have the stoic ranger's aid at present.

As Sarith danced around to the bodak's back, the creature turned its withering gaze on the next most dangerous target—Prince Derendil. He was already gravely wounded, but the bodak had enough sense to stop the quaggoth before he attacked. Unfortunately, poor Prince Derendil did not know what the demon's gaze could do and took the full brunt of its psychic attack. He dropped to his knees with a pained whine and slumped forward.

Zelyra rushed to Derendil's side and shot small balls of fire at the bodak in retribution. This was followed by an accompanying bolt of flame from Kazimir's crystalline staff and two arrows fired from Nine's longbow. One of the ranger's arrows produced a writhing mass of thorny vines that roped around the demon's form and ensnared it. All three made their shots without averting their gazes as they did not want to risk hitting Sarith if they missed. Fortunately, the bodak's death gaze did not instantly incapacitate them, but it was draining.

Eldeth fell to the same fate as Derendil just inches from the plateau's base before she could make a single attack. Fargas made it a bit further, about halfway up the ascent, before succumbing. He slid all the way back down to the bottom and landed next to Eldeth. Moments later, Sarith mistimed a strike and, in his panic to redirect a parry, he accidentally risked a look into the bodak's face. He felt his head explode in pain ten times that of the whispers that plagued him and slumped backwards off the plateau. The bodak thoughtlessly kicked the body aside, and the drow warrior tumbled over the side to land on top of Eldeth and Fargas on the cavern floor ten feet below.

As Sarith fell, Fraeya peaked out from a large stalagmite she'd taken cover behind and fired a deadly sneak shot at the demon. For a moment, it seemed as if it would miss. But then Kazimir tugged on a thread of the Weave that only he could see, and the arrow redirected. The rogue had aimed for the creature's gaping maw. As the arrow met its mark, it disappeared deep inside and strangely did not come out the other side. Instead, the bodak screamed as the arrow lodged in the back of its throat—not dead, but bloodied.

Another volley came from each of the still-conscious adventurers shortly after, and this time, they made sure to avert their gazes to protect themselves from the bodak's withering ability. Fargas, Sarith, and Eldeth were fortunately shielded from the attacks by rocks at the base of the plateau. Flames came from the spellcasters, and arrows were launched from the ranger and rogue's bows. Unfortunately, Zelyra's ball of fire and one of Nine's arrows flew wide of the demon, but Kazimir's bolt slammed into the creature with enough force to knock it clear from the altar.

The nightmare that was once Buppido fell dead in an unceremonious heap among his dreadful horde of body parts. Nine shot two more arrows at him just to be sure he was really dead.

"I had to be sure," the ranger said at Kazimir's questioning look.

The bodak began to melt into a pile of black tar moments later. Its soul would transfer to the Abyss and Orcus's undying service. Buppido was most certainly dead.

In the wake of the battle, Fraeya, Nine, Kazimir, and Zelyra took a moment to catch their breath before tending to their wounded companions. Fraeya dumped the health potion she'd taken from Droki's satchel into Sarith's mouth while Nine lay a healing hand first on Fargas and then Eldeth. Zelyra saw to Prince Derendil. And in her shakiness after the battle, she forgot all about what had nearly happened the last time the prince was gravely wounded.

The druid paced a hand on Derendil's chest and began to mutter a short prayer to the First Circle. Her spectral vines pierced the prince's chest and drug him back to consciousness, but not with his sanity completely intact. His eyes burst open with a start, and his emerald irises narrowed in that terrifying predatory way. Zelyra realized her mistake too late. He was still lost to the rage. He had the look of a beast—not a friend.

Before Zelyra could step away from the beast, he attacked. One swipe raked across the druid's chest and then another. The sharp claws pierced straight through her leather armor, down to the skin. Blood quickly poured from the wound, which excited the predator. The druid rolled and brought up her shield in front of her to protect her from her friend.

"Prince Derendil," she whispered in shock.

The beast growled low, having no understanding of this so-called prince.

"Prince Derendil! You just attacked Zelyra! Get ahold of yourself!" Kazimir bellowed as he rushed to the druid's side. The tiefling stood protectively at her back and aggressively held out his crystalline staff.

"No! Don't threaten him, Kaz! Can't you see he's a cornered animal right now?" Zelyra cried. "He needs more healing!"

Despite her fear, the druid took another deep breath and reached deep into her pool of fey energy healing. She sent a burst of it Derendil's way—this time mindful to keep a safe distance. Zelyra reasoned that he just needed to come out of his rageful state. He needed to remember who he was! A warm, golden glow engulfed the prince's body, accompanied by spectral vines. When it faded, Prince Derendil looked around bewilderedly, curious as to why he was down on all fours.

When he met Zelyra's terrified gaze and Kazimir's reproachful glare, he shrunk back and shook his head.

"Did I—" he began.

"Yes," the tiefling snapped.

"Kaz, don't. It was an accident…" the druid said softly.

Kazimir harrumphed. But the prince sat back sadly on his haunches as realization washed over him. He had attacked Zelyra in a blind, animalistic rage—the last person he'd ever wish to harm. Derendil lowered his gaze, mumbled an apology, and hurriedly rose to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Zelyra called out confusedly.

Derendil swiftly walked away from the pair of spellcasters without answering.

When the druid made to follow him, Kazimir put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. He sighed and said, "I suppose something like that would be rather hard to take in. See to your wound and give him time to come to terms with what he did."

"As if we haven't already been through enough," the druid answered sadly, gesturing to the bloody room they were in. But in truth, her ribs were aching terribly from the force of the quaggoth's blow, and the wound itself stung. A bit of healing would be nice…

Prince Derendil found a stray rock to sit upon as he considered the grave blow he'd just delivered to his dear friend. What if they had not been able to get through to him? What if he had not stopped? What if he had killed her? Derendil knew that he could never live with himself if he had.

While the prince had forged bonds with several members of their party over the past month they'd traveled together, Zelyra was just a bit different. She held a confusing, exciting worldview that was the complete opposite of the stuffy, royal lifestyle he had known for over two hundred years. She was the first to accept his implausible story without batting an eyelash—he'd seen the looks others had given him behind his back, even amongst the current party. But Zelyra had never done that, not even once.

But how could the druid trust him now? How could any of them? Especially when Derendil was unsure that he could even trust himself after this incident. Maybe he really was just a quaggoth. Perhaps it was all just a delusion. But how could that be? When all the memories were there. His sister and father, his dear departed mother, memories of mentors, and friends and rivals among the court? Surely that could not all be false!

The only thing—the only thing—that was hazy in Derendil's memories was how his transformation had occurred. A friend of the royal court wizard, Turin, had come to the palace. The family had eaten dinner, after which Derendil went for an evening stroll on the courtyard grounds and encountered Turin's friend. They continued a discussion they had begun at dinner for a while, but Derendil was almost sure they parted before the sun set. He intended to retire to his chambers after his stroll…but that part was fuzzy. He couldn't quite remember whether he made it back there. The next clear memory he had was waking up in a strange place surrounded by drow elves.

But it did no good to dwell on any of that now. The patron god of Nelrindenvane was Labelas Enoreth, the elven god of time, history, and philosophy. Perhaps if the prince remained faithful to his pursuit of knowledge, all would be answered in time.

While the prince mulled over this heartbreaking dilemma, his companions searched Buppido's lair from top to bottom for any sign of their missing companion. There was none. Not even a stray draconic claw. Balasar had disappeared without a trace. But Sarith did eventually find something rather peculiar in Buppido's horde in the far back of the cavern. It was a bill of sale in which the derro accepted a reward for returning some missing property. The receipt was signed in Dwarvish by one Bunrick Burakrinwurn.

"Why would Buppido keep a sales receipt?" Fraeya asked confusedly as she read the paper over Sarith's shoulder.

The drow warrior shrugged wordlessly and handed the slip over to Fraeya for safekeeping. Along with the strange sales receipt, the drow elves also found a nice cache of gold, two spell scrolls, a zircon gem, and an ornate necklace. Fargas snatched up the necklace, which no one contested him on as the thing was likely cursed. They would put nothing past Buppido anymore. Kazimir claimed the two spell scrolls, and the gold was split evenly amongst the eight adventurers. [4]

As the companions finished up in the lair and prepared to move on to further explore the tunnels, Zelyra hesitantly approached a morose Prince Derendil. He sat apart from the others on a small boulder and had his fist held against his mouth. The druid had to say his full title three times before he acknowledged her, so lost in spiraling thoughts he was.

"Are you okay?" Zelyra asked softly.

The prince shot her a dumbfounded look that told her she should already know the question to that answer. His grief-stricken gaze lingered on her injury, which would heal in time but would almost certainly leave a nasty scar. She'd stopped the bleeding, but her armor was compromised until she could get a replacement. Zelyra was already dreading that prospect. She doubted that duergar craftsmanship could hold a candle to the supple leathers found in Taras Aldar. They specialized in metals, and most druids considered metal armor taboo. But if that was all that was available, and it might better protect her…sacrifices might have to be made to survive in such a harsh environment.

"I just need you to understand that I am not mad, and you shouldn't blame yourself either. It was an accident," the druid continued awkwardly.

The prince huffed. "An inexcusable one…"

"Still, I've been thinking about your curse for some time. I have wondered if it does cause you to take on more bestial-like qualities when you are in distress or injured. Sort of like the predatory senses that I gain when I beast shape," Zelyra prattled absently. "But since your form is permanent, it would make sense that—"

Derendil abruptly cut her off and shoved passed her. "I don't want to discuss this right now," he said bitterly.

Zelyra stopped him with a hand on the arm. "Derendil, I'm just trying to understand…" the druid said compassionately. "I want to help if I can."

The prince closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He was not angry at her. He was angry at himself. "I appreciate that. Very much. But…not now," he pleaded.

Unable to look her in the eye, Derendil carefully unhooked her hand from his arm and lumbered off after the others. The druid had no choice but to follow.

[1] When I was reading the ghoul's stat block on DnDBeyond, there was an interesting note about why elves are not affected by their paralyzing attacks. This is copied straight from the website: "Ghouls trace their origins to the Abyss. Doresain, the first of their kind, was an elf worshiper of Orcus. Turning against his own people, he feasted on humanoid flesh to honor the Demon Prince of Undeath. As a reward for his service, Orcus transformed Doresain into the first ghoul. Doresain served Orcus faithfully in the Abyss, creating ghouls from the demon lord's other servants until an incursion by Yeenoghu, the demonic Gnoll Lord, robbed Doresain of his abyssal domain. When Orcus would not intervene on his behalf, Doresain turned to the elf gods for salvation, and they took pity on him and helped him escape certain destruction. Since then, elves have been immune to the ghouls' paralytic touch."

[2] Fun fact, this is one of the rare cases where I rolled for damage and saves to see if Derendil would be knocked out instantly on this. Buppido cast a 4th level Blight on the prince to deal 55 points of damage (I rolled SO many 7 and 8's—so sorry, Derendil!) Fortunately, Derendil made a 21 on his Constitution saving throw to take half damage. Phew…

In our gameplay, Buppido used Fireball and Lightning Bolt spell scrolls against us that I mistakenly attributed to him using when we battled him at the original shrine. I wanted to use different scrolls this time, so I just borrowed a spell from the 'necromancer' stat block in Volo's Guide to Monsters.

[3] I didn't think to do this with Zelyra in-game, but I wanted to give Sarith a cool fighting moment after what I put him through in the previous chapter. Unfortunately, he did get knocked out…most of the NPCs did in battle. The original stats that DM/husband used for them in-game made them a level or two below us. So, they had a lot less health. Tasha's Caldron to Everything's inclusion of sidekicks made all the difference and brought them up to our level!

[4] The loot we took from Buppido's lair is as follows:

- A spell scroll of Mirror Imaging and a scroll of See Invisibility (both to Kazimir)

- 1 zircon gem (Nine)

- 58CP, 463SP, 63GP, 3PP

- Split between the party for 7CP, 58SP, and 7GP. I don't recall who took the platinum, but I will say it was likely Fargas, Kazimir, and Fraeya.

- 1 ornate golden necklace (Fargas)

I realize this is much more loot than defined in the manual. That is because I am retconning the haul that Buppido should have had stashed away had he stuck with the party instead of abandoning them in Sloobludop. For the sake of the story, I'm playing it off as what he got as a reward from Bunrick…and also dropping a bit of a clue…

So. Many. Post-Chapter. Notes.

I made another slight twist to this encounter. As stated previously, Buppido and the duergar prisoner from Sloobludop, Hemeth, traveled with us to Gracklstugh in our original game. They abandoned us in the middle of the stone giant encounter, and it wasn't until we met with Gartokkar and he gave us the badges that we realized they were missing. (We asked for 10 badges, to which Gartokkar replied, "But there's only 8 of you…") Looking back, it is funny that we went *three sessions* without realizing two of our companions had taken off. Such is the fun of theater of the mind in-person play!

When we finally met up with Buppido in his lair, we discovered that he'd lured Hemeth there and then killed him—so, definite shock factor. I wanted to keep that feeling in the narrative, so I needed a new victim. Werz was the most logical choice because he is a character that you as readers have become familiar enough with now, but we as players never interacted with him again after our couple of meetings in the Shattered Spire (DM/Husband was juggling too many other NPCs. Werz's quest got put on the back burner) So…sorry Werz. Glad to have known ya!

Honestly—I never imagined how much of a ripple effect that *one* wild hair decision of having Buppido and Sarith abandon the party in Sloobludop would make! But it's been a fun ride. With the conclusion of this chapter, we should be back on track now.

The Buppido battle felt like the-battle-that-would-never-end. Wave after wave of summoned enemies came at us. And yes, I know the book mentions nothing of Buppido turning himself into a bodak or being a follower of Orcus. That was DM/husband's twist and a way to scale up the encounter for a larger party. Hope it was a fun read!

On Derendil—this was the moment "in-game" that made me fall for the character hook, line, and sinker. Zelyra and Derendil hit it off as friends from the first session, so this ordeal—for me as a player—just broke my heart. I didn't quite know what to think of it, but I truly felt for him. I should note I did indeed put my foot in my mouth as Zelyra does here, and Derendil was justifiably standoffish because of it. I genuinely hope I captured that same emotion in his monologue and the ending of this chapter that I felt in the moment.

Lastly, for those familiar with questlines in the tunnels, I have decided to omit the scene where the characters interact with the ghost Pelek. To be honest, we totally forgot about the ring. Nine was the one who found it (severed the entire hand off Pelek's corpse, much to the disgust and…respect…of the group) and carried it around in her pack but didn't do anything about it once we got to Blingdenstone. Since it won't have any further consequence to the storyline, we will keep trudging along… There is still a lot to get through in the Whorlstone Tunnels.

Coming up next: a scene that I've been waiting to write for a very long time :D