Previously…
Suddenly, it all clicked. The vision, the hellfire, the light. He was supposed to activate it. It was probably not the best time to test such a working theory, but, in the end, Kazimir's unsatiable curiosity got the better of him. "Fraeya is going to kill me for this," he murmured with a mischievous grin.
Kazimir held one hand against the obelisk and waved his crystalline staff with the other. A rolling ball of flame burned into existence and slammed into the structure's other side.
The wizard's companions looked up in alarm as the raging sphere of hellfire appeared. But none of them could adequately react before the magic made contact.
Immediately, a piecing, bright white light filled the cavern. Wind gushed through the adventurers' ears—loud, howling, and unmerciful. Their bodies seemed to twist and be pulled in all directions. Their stomachs felt like they had dropped to their toes. But the light was so blinding there was no recollection of time or space. The entire disorienting experience could have lasted hours or mere seconds. There was no way to know for certain.
When the light faded, the companions found themselves in a totally different space, not within the Whorlstone Tunnels at all. Instead, this place better resembled the tunnels outside of Gracklstugh proper. The companions lay in a haphazard heap—some seated, some laying. Fargas, notably, found himself draped over Nine's lap. The halfling shot the auburn-haired half-elf a flirty wink as he clamored to his feet. But overall, they were safe, unharmed, and whole.
Whatever dormant magic Kazimir had activated from the obelisk had teleported the companions somewhere outside the city…
…but not all of them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Speakers of Stone
1485 DR / Day 35
An unknown location outside of Gracklstugh
The companions slowly sat up, recovered from the nauseating feeling of teleportation, and took in their surroundings with bleary eyes. For a moment, no one spoke; such was their shock. It was not until the wizard among them began shaking with silent laughter that the group returned to their senses. Immediately, Kazimir was fixed with five disapproving glares.
"What in the Nine Hells were you thinking?!" Fraeya exploded as she stormed up to the smirking tiefling and jabbed him roughly in the chest with her index finger. "You think this is funny, huh? We just lost the damn egg!"
"I don't think it's funny!" Kazimir responded, though his lips were still twisted in a partial smirk.
"Somehow…I don't think I believe you," Nine drawled bitterly.
"Did you know the obelisk would react that way when a spell is cast into it?" Zelyra asked the wizard as she favored the right side of her head. Derendil had accidentally elbowed her as they landed. Not that she was complaining! Secretly, the druid was glad that was the extent of her injuries. The quaggoth could have landed on her. That would have been a whole different ordeal.
"How did you know that's what I did?" Kazimir asked cheekily.
Zelyra tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "So, that flaming sphere just appeared out of nowhere? I may not understand the arcane like you, but I know enough."
"It was a joke, Z. Sheesh," the tiefling muttered. He sobered and said, "I didn't know what it would do. All I could surmise was that there was some sort of dormant energy within the obelisk that could be activated with magic—any magic. You could have done the same thing to a similar result."
"And so, in all your wisdom and brilliance, you decided to throw fire at it to test your theory?" Fraeya concluded testily.
Kazimir shrugged nonchalantly.
"Would it always teleport us to this exact spot? Or do you think—"
Derendil's question was cut off by Fargas as the halfling warily announced, "Uhm…I don't think it teleported all of us…."
The others anxiously looked around then and saw four people were missing from their group. Wherein there should have been eight adventurers plus two sprouts, there were now only six adventurers. Fraeya, Zelyra, Kazimir, Nine, Fargas, and Derendil were accounted for. Sarith, Eldeth, Stool, and Rumpadump were not.
Immediately, five of the companions exploded into raucous chatter—questions, fear, anger, and blame. But Fraeya fumbled for the sending stone she kept tucked in a pocket of her leathers, and as it activated, she called out to Sarith.
For a moment, there was no answer.
And then, "What happened? Where are you?"
Fortunately, it was Sarith's voice, and he sounded as utterly bewildered as the others. Certainly not worried, Fraeya thought. She knew the warrior would never show concern for her or the surface dwellers.
"I'm not sure. We were teleported somewhere outside of Gracklstugh. Where are you?" the rogue asked.
"Right where I was before—in the obelisk room!" the warrior answered testily.
"Shit!" Fraeya cursed aloud. Their two most wounded and two most vulnerable companions had been left behind in a place that could easily be ambushed, assuming they were even together. More questions came from those around her, but Fraeya irritably waved them off. Instead, via the sending stone, she pressed, "Is Eldeth with you? The sprouts?"
"Yes," came the telepathic reply. And before Fraeya could prompt him, the warrior added, "All unharmed. What was the flash? What did the wizard do?"
Fraeya breathed a sigh of relief that at least those who had been left behind were together. She answered, "Kazimir figured out that casting magic into the obelisk would trigger a latent power. Apparently, that power is teleportation."
"And?" Sarith drawled, knowing that Fraeya was not finished.
"Well, our people are born with some innate magical abilities. You could—"
"No," the warrior immediately rebuffed.
"You don't even know what I was going to say!"
"I'm not casting a spell into the obelisk."
Okay—maybe he did know.
Sarith continued, "There is no way to know that we would teleport to the same spot or that all of us would be affected. Wild magic is not something to be frivolously tampered with."
Again, Fraeya sighed. He was right. By now, they all knew well how chaotic the faerzress could be, and the obelisk room was teeming with it. It was different for people like Kazimir and Zelyra, who had at least some control over their casting, but for non-spellcasters such as themselves? In the end, it was not worth the risk.
"Then stay where you are. Keep to the high ground and guard the egg. If anyone enters that room, tell me. We'll make our way back to the city as soon as possible," the rogue said.
"Understood," Sarith replied.
Their telepathic connection fell silent then, so Fraeya finally put the others' minds to rest as she explained the fate of their missing companions. None were happy to know that an injured drow warrior and shield dwarf fighter were all that protected the dragon egg from being retaken by the cultists—not after all the injury they had sustained to reclaim it. Sarith and Eldeth needed their aid, and they needed it quickly. There was no time to waste, not even for a short rest. So, the group made their way back to the City of Blades posthaste.
This time, Fargas and Nine led while Fraeya fell back to walk at the rear with Zelyra. The change in position was a reluctant one for the drow, as she liked knowing what lay ahead by using her own eyes rather than relying upon a relay. But even Fraeya could not argue that the adjustment was one of necessity. The ranger possessed the map of the Wilds, and Fargas reluctantly revealed that he was familiar with the passageways around Gracklstugh, though he did not say why. So they were not as lost as they believed.
The six companions traipsed through dark and winding tunnels before the ground beneath their feet eventually flattened. Stone tiles, pressed within the earth, became more frequent, and before long, they recognized they were walking on a proper road once again. Light faintly glimmered in the distance, pale blue in color and too regularly spaced to be phosphorescent fungi—the lanterns that flanked the main gate. All breathed a sigh of relief. After only a few hours' delay, they had safely returned to the City of Blades.
"Perhaps we should take Sarith's advice and not enter by the main gate," Prince Derendil suggested, remembering the drow's warning from their prior arrival. [1]
But Fraeya's lip turned upward in a snarl. "I'd like to see that blackmailing, slimy bastard threaten us again," she growled as she retrieved the Stoneguard badge and the gold emblem representing the Keepers of the Flame from her pockets. In this, she was a drow through and through—utilizing any method of intimidation she could. Perhaps in that, she was no better than the corrupt guard. But presently, Fraeya did not care.
All that mattered was getting back to the egg.
And their wounded and missing companions.
And Sarith.
The drow approached the iron gate but did not get more than a few paces before a gruff voice called out to her through a concealed slit in the outer wall. Unlike before, it did not startle her. This time, Fraeya fully expected it.
"State your full names and business!" the voice shouted in Dwarvish.
Fraeya did not have to understand Dwarvish to know the question being asked. They had gone through this before. She swiftly replied in Undercommon, "We wish to reenter the city. We're on urgent business for Captain Errde Blackskull and Gartokkar Xundorn of the Keepers of the Flame. As for my name, you don't need it."
"Lying to the Stoneguard can get you enslaved around these parts," the hissing voice replied, also in Undercommon. "But I might be willing to turn a blind eye if you pay the toll."
"You're getting nothing from me," Fraeya spat as she presented the Stoneguard badge, followed immediately by the emblem of pure gold gifted to them by Gartokkar.
"Drow thief! Those are stolen! I should bring you before the Captain at once—"
Fargas stepped forward and said, "Go right on ahead. That's where we were headed anyways." Of course, it was a lie, but the guard didn't need to know that.
The duergar offered no reply—to them, at least. Instead, a sudden commotion came from behind the gate, comprised of muffled conversation and a short scuffle followed by lots of cursing. The adventurers exchanged curious glances as they waited for it to pass. Then, a moment later, a stone door concealed within the cavern's side wall swung open to reveal another member of the Stoneguard. This time, a high-ranking female. The corrupt guard they'd had dealings with previously was nowhere to be seen. None of the adventurers cared enough to ask after him.
"The Captain is going to have to wait. If you are the group that I suspect you are, your presence has been requested. I am to escort you to Cairngorm Caverns at once by order of Stonespeaker Hgraam," the female told the companions in a no-nonsense tone. When she was met with stunned silence, the guard tried again. "You are the ones who spared Apprentice Dorhun, are you not?"
"The two-headed stone giant?" Kazimir sputtered, recognizing the name.
"Yes," the female snapped impatiently.
That battle felt like it had occurred a lifetime ago, though only two rest cycles had passed. And it was no wonder! An overwhelming number of exigent matters had been pressed upon the party since then. [2]
"The timing is unfortunate, but…I think we might have information that would interest them," Kazimir said to his companions as he gestured to the satchel tucked by Fraeya's side.
The others exchanged wary glances. They had promised Rihuud a conversation before Gartokkar intervened. But the crazed giant now seemed low on their list of priorities. Or was it? Could it be more connected than even they knew? They'd almost forgotten about the vials of toenail clippings within Droki's satchel… Perhaps showing them to the stone giants might glean more insight into that mystery.
"I suppose you should lead the way then," Fraeya murmured to the ranking female as she read the consensus of reluctant agreement among her companions. Because if Blackskull would have to wait, that meant Sarith, Eldeth, and the sprouts would too.
As the mighty main gates of Gracklstugh lifted at the female's signal and the adventurers crossed under it, Fraeya's fingers inconspicuously curled around her sending stone. "Slight change of plans. We've apparently been summoned to Cairngorm Caverns by the stone giants," she telepathically relayed to Sarith.
"We can wait. All is quiet here. What would you have us do in the meantime?"
In any other circumstance, Fraeya would have been taken aback that Sarith was asking her for instruction. But presently, she was focused. "Look for a way to safely move the egg. If you think you can get it out, move it. Retrace your steps. We'll meet you as soon as possible," the rogue replied.
"Understood," the warrior repeated his same stony reply, almost like a soldier taking orders from a general. It rubbed Fraeya the wrong way but now was not the time to open that can of worms.
The group's female escort was accompanied by five other Stoneguard. Such a force was not truly needed. This was for show—a stern reminder of the city's control over outsiders. For their part, the group played along and followed without incident. They caught the eye of many duergar as the Stoneguard paraded them through the streets.
The colorful procession trudged a path south, past the thatched huts, fungal fields, and storerooms of Clan Bukbukken, the farmers, and a handful of cave-like dwellings inhabited by Clan Ironhead, the weaponsmiths. Yet, strangely, little activity came from the houses belonging to Clan Ironhead. Considering their chosen profession, one would have thought they might hear the ting of metal on metal or see the light of a burning forge. But the caverns were silent and dark.
The group then approached Laduguer's Furrow, the two-hundred-foot rift which split the city of Gracklstugh in two. They marched over a wide, stone ramp crammed with pedestrians and crossing wagons to step foot in the heart of Gracklstugh, where the vast majority of duergar clans took residence. And as the last time the adventurers had been permitted to cross into this territory—the first, being escorted by Gartokkar Xundorn to the Flowstone district—the ranking female snidely told the adventurers that non-duergar were typically barred from crossing Laduguer's Furrow. The one exception to this was the stone giants, who had sworn fealty to the Cairngorm Crown, the traditional regalia of Deepkingdom monarchs. For their allegiance, the monarchy had granted them permanent residence in an area known as the Southfurrow District.
As the party weaved their way further south, passing by the homes of Clan Thrazgad, the armorsmiths, Nine noticed a handful of crates stacked up near the entrance to one of the larger homes. The ranger did a double take, for the insignia stamped upon them was familiar. They'd seen it on the crates of black ore in the obelisk room.
"Aren't those the same crates we found in the obelisk room?" Nine covertly hissed to Kazimir, who walked near her.
Though the words had been spoken quietly, the ranking female leading the procession stumbled for half a step before recovering and dutifully marching on. Both the wizard and the ranger noticed the strange reaction. Kazimir gave Nine a slow but affirmative nod rather than speaking aloud.
The dwellings of Clan Thrazgad soon fell behind them. Then, as they rounded a bend skirting the city's outer wall, the female guard began to lead the procession down a long tunnel that would eventually open into the Southfurrow District, home of the stone giants of Clan Cairngorm. It was here that she abruptly halted the group and addressed her fellow Stoneguard.
"I will take it from here," the female barked in Dwarvish, dismissing the other guards. The five Stoneguard glanced at each other in confusion before shrugging and following the order. One did not question the word of a superior in the Stoneguard.
No sooner did the other duergar turn away did the ranking female spin on her heel and continue her march down the long tunnel. The adventurers quietly followed her. But when they had nearly reached its end, the party's escort halted again and turned to face them.
"I overheard a bit of conversation as we passed the homes of Clan Thrazgad that is of great interest to me," she told the group in Common.
Kazimir and Nine immediately exchanged wary glances.
"What is it you think you overheard?" the wizard replied.
"You recognized the crates of Thrazgad ore. It is a material specific to that clan and that clan alone," the female said. "Recently, much of that ore was stolen. And so, I want you to tell me precisely when and where you saw it."
As one, the group hesitated. Fraeya and Zelyra had no idea what the female was talking about, as they had not been around for the ore's discovery. Meanwhile, the others saw no reason to trust a stranger with information they had yet to report to Captain Blackskull. And having no shame in that, Kazimir told the guard precisely that.
The female heaved a heavy sigh and removed her helmet, a sign of surrender and common ground. She seemed much smaller without the heavy garb and had a pointed face, shining white eyes, and a mop of messy stark white hair.
"My interest is not Stoneguard related. It is personal. My name is Ingres Thrazgad, and if you have any news of my clan's missing ore, I'd be in your debt to hear about it," the female revealed.
The group relaxed, but only marginally.
"Perhaps we could contact you and your clan after we've spoken to the Captain," Fargas suggested. "That would be following protocol after all, wouldn't it? I doubt that Blackskull would be happy to find out we divulged secrets to a random guard before reporting to her, am I right?"
At this, Ingres's brows rose. "The Captain hired you to search for my family's missing ore?" she asked skeptically.
"Not exactly," the halfling replied. "The people who stole it are involved in an illegal activity that she did ask us to investigate. So, you can understand how it would look bad if we revealed our findings to you before her, right?"
"No, you are right. It's just…." Ingres's eyes darted, showing her nervousness and desperation. "That ore is the livelihood of the clan. Most duergar have no use for feeble, leather armors. They want sturdy chainmail and plate. And so, how is a clan supposed to complete orders when their stores have been depleted?"
"We recognize your plight and can sympathize," Prince Derendil began in his typical diplomatic way. Ingres stared at the quaggoth in bewilderment, stunned by his elegant speech. Derendil continued, unperturbed, "Aside from the Stonespeakers, we have other official city matters that must be attended to, but we promise to report the stolen ore's location to Captain Blackskull as soon as we are able. I am sure that she will be able to organize its retrieval."
"What he said," Kazimir said, thrusting a thumb in the prince's direction.
Derendil dipped his head in acknowledgement of the praise. He then looked down at Ingres and said, "Will that do for now?"
"It seems I have little other choice but to agree, do I?" the duergar said.
"And now you know how it is to be on the reverse side of every one of our dealings with your kind," Fraeya grumbled quietly.
Ingres stared at the drow questionably before stating, "Same could be said for dealings with your kind. The reports involving your group specified two drow elves amongst your party, yet my eyes only perceive one."
"We were separated," Fraeya bit back. "We're missing four of our companions. And so, if you please, I'd rather get this meeting with the stone giants out of the way so we can reconvene with them."
"What—"
"None of your business," the rogue snapped before Ingres could finish the question.
The duergar glared up at Fraeya for half a breath before giving in to the demand to lead the party forward. Zelyra elbowed Fraeya pointedly as Ingres turned her back to them and whispered, "Could you tone down the sass just a pinch?"
"But we're wasting time!" the drow hissed. And then, in Elvish, she told the half-elf, "You know the situation we left the others in."
"It's still no reason to be rude," Zelyra bit back. "Maybe you should practice a measure of that thing called 'sympathy' that the prince spoke of."
"Drow don't sympathize," Fraeya returned.
"But maybe you should," Zelyra said sagely.
The chastising words had the precise effect that the half-elf intended, for the drow now bore a conflicted expression on her dark features and did not respond. Zelyra knew then that Fraeya could talk the talk. She could cite the indoctrination of the drow until the metaphorical sun came up, but Fraeya had a wholly separate, instinctive, moral compass. The druid had witnessed it on numerous occasions since meeting in Velkynvelve.
After a few more minutes of walking, the long tunnel finally opened into the Southfurrow District. Unlike the loud, bustling, and crowded streets of Gracklstugh proper, this space was dark, utterly silent, and sparsely occupied. Not even the din of the great forges could pierce the rock here.
But as the adventurers looked around the enormous chamber, they found it was not nearly as scant as they first believed. Instead, the space had been built to resemble a giant cathedral complete with flying buttresses, pinnacles, and grand arched columns. Carved into the walls of the aisles were meticulously chiseled murals and paintings. And in other areas, the stone had been shaped into raised reliefs depicting the stone giants' allegiance to the Deepkingdom through the ages. The space was both a cleric's and an artist's dream.
"Beautiful," Prince Derendil whispered to no one in particular as he stared at the reliefs.
Only one stone giant was waiting to greet the group. He had granite-gray skin, gaunt features, and black, sunken eyes that endowed him with a stern countenance. The adventurers recognized him at once. This was the same giant who had spoken to them after Dorhun's attack—Rihuud. He offered a curt nod of acknowledgement.
"Thank you for bringing them," Rihuud told Ingres. "But I will take it from here."
Ingres gave a curt nod and made to leave the chamber but then paused. The duergar looked over the adventurers one by one, fixing each with a piercing stare. "Do not forget what you have promised," she reminded them.
"As soon as we can make a report to Captain Blackskull, we will," Kazimir assured her.
Ingres then left the chamber without another word.
"Come," Rihuud bade the group. "I will take you to Stonespeaker Hgraam."
The adventurers silently followed Rihuud as he led them across the cathedral's space, down the nave, over the crossing and transept, up many stairs to the apse, and then through a narrow doorway at the back that opened into a quaint room—by stone giant standards, anyhow. The only piece of furniture here was a long stone table. And standing at the head of that long table was the largest stone giant they had ever seen. Wearing simple grey robes accented by a sash of vibrant red, he stood nearly twenty feet tall and had some age to him. [3]
"Stonespeaker Hgraam, these are the individuals I told you about," Rihuud addressed the other stone giant.
Hgraam nodded and then spoke to the group. His voice was unwavering, firm, and loud enough to shake the stone walls around them. "You have the entire clan's thanks for sparing Dorhun, as you did," he told the adventurers. "But you also have my personal thanks. Dohrun is not only a Stonespeaker apprentice, like Rihuud here, but he is also my sister-son. What happened was not his fault."
"Just doing our civil duty," Kazimir quipped.
Both Zelyra and Fraeya shot the wizard an exasperated side-eyed glance.
"Do you know what happened to him? I believe Rihuud told us that Dorhun had been 'speaking to the stones'—whatever that means—when he 'suddenly went berserk," Zelyra quoted Rihuud's claim from that day. "He said you could tell us more, but then the Keepers of the Flame intervened."
Both Hgraam and Rihuud shook their heads.
"The stones have not given us an answer," Hgraam claimed.
Fargas tugged at Fraeya's arm and silently pointed to Droki's satchel. Remembering its contents, the drow stepped forward and presented it to the Stonespeaker. "I think we may be able to clear some of that up for you. We found something of interest on a messenger for the Grey Ghosts and the Empty Scabbard Killers," she said.
Hgraam leaned down and keenly eyed the satchel in Fraeya's outstretched hand. "Show me," he pleaded.
Realizing then that the satchel was too small for the stone giant to properly handle, Fraeya removed the three stoppered vials from within the bag. "These vials contain toenail clippings. Each one is labeled—Hgraam, Rihuud, and Dorhun." The rogue rotated each of the vials so that Hgraam could observe the writing before continuing, "But as you can see, Dorhun's is empty."
"We think the clippings might have been used as a spell component," Zelyra added. "The only problem is that we have no idea who the vials were intended for. Why would the Grey Ghosts or Empty Scabbard Killers try to curse your clan?"
"Actually, I can answer that," Kazimir interrupted.
Hgraam silently gestured for the tiefling to speak his piece.
"We have just cause to believe that the Council of Savants has infiltrated the Grey Ghosts and that one of its members was performing unnatural experiments—including the successful mutation on a dragon egg to give the wyrmling two heads." Kazimir pulled out the notebook he'd snatched off Pliinki's body and waved it in the air. He continued, "It's all here. All Pliinki's notes and research. While she doesn't mention the stone giants, the coincidence between what happened to Dorhun and what we know she did to the egg can't be ignored. I believe the wyrmling is meant to be a gift for Demogorgon."
Many of the wizard's companions were startled by this, as it was the first time they heard the information. There had not been time to discuss their findings on the march back to Gracklstugh. Silence was best when traveling through the Wilds. The companions had no idea how much they appreciated using Stool's rapport spores until it was no longer an option.
"I can also support some of those claims," Fargas said. "I found letters on Uskvil, the savant's master thief, which prove that the Council of Savants has overtaken the Grey Ghosts."
"But why would they target the Stonespeakers?" Zelyra pondered aloud.
"To breed more chaos," Kazimir snapped. "They clearly worship Demogorgon! Look at these sigils! Don't they look familiar?" He pointed to the y-shaped symbol on each of the pages. While none of the adventurers were familiar with the Prince of Demon's mark, it did look similar to a creature with two heads.
Hgraam rested a heavy hand on the stone table, not quite a slam, but the sound echoed through the rocky chamber. He eyed the assembled group sternly before saying, "These are grave tidings you bring to us. But I cannot deny that I have felt it. There is evil within the stones of the city, something dark that bleeds. Whatever happened to Dorhun, ensure that it never happens again. Next time, the giant might not be so lucky to be spared…" he concluded somberly.
The adventurers looked amongst themselves warily.
"We can try, but we already have a lot on our plate. The people of Gracklstugh are keen on handing out jobs left and right…." Fraeya said.
"Try is all that I ask," Hgraam pleaded. Then, he looked Kazimir dead in the eye and said, "And in exchange, I will offer you the stone giant's blessing and aid. I did not extend an invitation to these halls merely to thank you. There is something that I must give you, Kazimir, that will help. Maybe not in this quest, but one that you have yet to begin."
The tiefling's brow rose to his hairline—he hadn't told Hgraam his name.
Hgraam crossed the room and removed a cloth-wrapped object from an inconspicuous storage chest in the far corner. It blended in with its stone surroundings so well that the adventurers could not see it until Hgraam opened it. It made them wonder…what else was concealed within the stones here? The Stonespeaker took the wrapped object and slowly made his way to the group. His every step made the ground shake. When the giant reached them, he bowed low and presented the object to Kazimir.
The wizard eyed the cloth curiously. "May I?"
Hgraam cracked just the slightest hint of a smile. "It is yours now to do with as you wish," he said mysteriously.
Kazimir's companions gathered around him as he carefully removed the outer wrapping to reveal the shining object within. It was a shard of pure white quartz, nearly nineteen inches in length. Still, the wizard was perplexed. "What is this?" he asked.
"That is for you to discover," the Stonespeaker replied. His dark eyes glittered with pure mischief, making him appear much younger than he actually was. "It is okay to not know what you are searching for, Seeker from the Dreamlands. But I know that you are a learned individual. So, do as you do best. Study, research, trust the stone."
Kazimir's jaw dropped. "How do you—"
"We have met before. In a strange place where time does many strange things," Hgraam said cryptically. "But that is a story for another time. The Stonespeaker Crystal is not the only aid I have to offer your group."
Hgraam signaled to Rihuud then. The younger apprentice left the room for a time before returning with the oddest of creatures. This was not a stone giant but a machine made to look humanoid. It was a hulking thing, standing over eight feet tall, and looked battle ready with two sharp blades strapped to its broad chest. Metal horns curved down and around its head, not unlike a tiefling, and it bore a dark green mantle.
As Kazimir keenly surveyed the strange construct, he saw it was a mixture of organic and inorganic material. Concealed beneath a scrappy, patchwork frame of adamantine, darkwood, and stone were root-like cords infused with alchemical fluids to serve as muscle. The outer plates merely formed a protective outer shell to reinforce its vulnerable joints.
But it also did not escape Kazimir's investigative gaze that this creature was made explicitly for war. Mundane scratches on its armor, which the tiefling immediately recognized as Infernal runes, told a story of many battles. Kazimir had heard of such brutes. This was a humanoid of rarity, known in other worlds as a warforged. Though manufactured, they had all the functionalities of a living, breathing person.
The tiefling half expected to feel a burning in his left palm at the sight of the infernal warrior, but the sensation never came. This is not Her doing, Kazimir realized. Still, he refused to let his guard down.
"This is Broot," Hgraam said in a swift introduction, which broke Kazimir from his panicked thoughts. "His kind were once used in ancient battles of devils against demons—the Blood War—which remains an ongoing conflict to this day. Many were destroyed by their makers, yet this one survived. We do not know how he came to be here, but our clan found him and brought him back to functionality. His primary function is to root out any unjust or evil, regardless of consequence. If all is as you say, and there are followers of the Prince of Demons in our city, I believe Broot may be of aid to you in your quests…" [4]
"Created by devils?" Zelyra mouthed to Fraeya uncertainly.
The drow shrugged and instead turned to the tiefling among them. For once, Kazimir's face was the likeness of stone and did not give away whether he knew about such devilish creations. Meanwhile, the warforged surveyed the assembled party with a pair of burning white eyes before determining that they held no evil intent.
"We leave at once," Broot abruptly announced.
"Wait just a minute," Nine interrupted, holding up a hand. "We said we would try to figure out how the savants cursed Dorhun if it aligned with our other duties. We are working for Captain Blackskull and the Keepers of the Flame. Their tasks take priority."
The ranger's companions winced to hear the brash words leave her mouth. But, fortunately, the stone giants did not take insult. And if anything, Broot appeared more determined than ever.
"It will align," the warforged insisted.
"We need to go back to the tunnels anyway," Prince Derendil quietly reminded the ranger. "Perhaps while we are down there, we can gather even more evidence against the savants. One can never be too thorough."
Nine huffed. "I just don't want to take on another debt," she argued.
"We won't," Fargas assured his companion. Then to Hgraam and Broot, he said, "I think it would be best if we could rest before setting out again. It would give us time to thoroughly review the evidence we've collected and recover from our last encounter with the savants."
Hgraam considered the request. "Then take your rest within our halls, and you may set out with Broot at your leisure," he generously offered. "It is not often that we take in guests, so I'm afraid that your quarters will be plain. But I can assure you that you will be safe and undisturbed."
"I'm sure that whatever you have to offer will be more than adequate," Zelyra kindly assured the giant.
The adventurers took their leave of Hgraam and Broot then and followed Rihuud as the Stonespeaker apprentice led them out of the chamber and back through the cathedral-like hall. They walked through the northern transept and passed under an arched doorway that opened into yet another offshoot cavity. This one was smaller than the audience chamber and held no furnishings. Yet, like the main chamber before it, the walls were adorned with many sculptures and murals.
"You may take your rest here," Rihuud told the adventurers.
"This is more than fine, Rihuud. We'll be comfortable here," Kazimir said politely.
Once Rihuud excused himself, the adventurers began airing out their bedding and blankets and prepared for another night of sleeping on the ground. But unlike the past few rest cycles spent in the Whorlstone Tunnels, at least the six adventurers had the assurance that they could rest safely without taking watches. Unfortunately, their four missing companions would not be so lucky.
"Why so gloom?" Zelyra asked Fraeya as she took note of the drow's sour countenance.
For a moment, Fraeya did not answer. And then, "I'm just worried."
"That's right! I forgot your boo isn't here," the druid said lightly. [5]
The joke about Sarith was met with a snarl from Fraeya.
Immediately, Zelyra back peddled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I was only trying to—"
"Well, don't," the drow snapped.
"I'm sure Sarith is doing just fine. At least he isn't alone. Eldeth is with him, and the sprouts!" the druid said. "And you can still speak with him! That's more than what we can say for Balasar…."
But the encouragement brought no measure of comfort to Fraeya. The others didn't know. Not like she did. From the moment Fraeya had witnessed her fellow drow's first nightmare and realized his touch of madness, she had vowed to help him. She didn't know how. She didn't know when. But whatever the strange affliction was, the rogue swore they would see an end to it. It was a seemingly dauntless and impossible task. But something in her gut told her that she—they—had to try.
Because sometimes, in the dead of night, when the rogue fell into reverie, the whispers came. Mind you, these were not terrifying or uncomfortable in the slightest. Nothing like Sarith's. Instead, they were warm and comforting—a feeling Fraeya had never known until recently. The voice was musical and radiant. They promised that redemption was possible, for even the lowliest could rise above the sins of their forbearers. All had a chance to see the light. Love could be true.
And that made Fraeya uncomfortable, for what did any drow know of love?
Nothing.
Fraeya turned her back on the druid and fumbled for her sending stone. As soon as the polished obsidian stone rested in her palm, she said, "We're taking rest with the stone giants. They've given us aid."
It was a moment before she received a reply. But Sarith's monotonous voice, at last, came through loud and clear, simply asking, "Aid?"
"First, a crystal to Kazimir. Hgraam was unclear on its purpose, but apparently, it is a gift. They have met before."
"Kazimir and the stone giant?"
"Yes."
A thoughtful hum resounded in Fraeya's head. "The Stonespeakers don't often take visitors. They keep to their own," Sarith said thoughtfully.
"The Stoneguard said the same. So our invitation seems to be centered around Kazimir and his previous meeting with the Stonespeaker. But he hasn't said a word about it. In fact, I'd say he was just as baffled as we were."
"What else?"
"They offered us a weapon that the devils used against demons in the Blood War," Fraeya revealed. Stunned silence followed the rogue's declaration. She continued, "It's some sort of construct. Apparently, his primary function is to root out evil. Anyway, he will be accompanying us when we reenter the tunnels."
"You've been busy," was Sarith's only reply.
"What about you?"
"Strangely quiet. Eldeth and I built a device to transport the egg."
"Impressive."
A pause before, "I guess."
Many moments of silence passed. Then, finally, Fraeya curled up in her bedroll, clutched the sending stone tighter in her palm, and quietly said, "Rest well."
Again, there was a long silence before Sarith's reply came. "You too," he said at last.
. . .
The druid felt regret as Fraeya turned her back and curled up in her bedroll. She hadn't meant the upset the drow. In fact, Zelyra had not thought that such a blasé comment would even trouble Fraeya! But the more the druid thought on it, the rogue was strangely protective of Sarith—for a good reason! His behavior had been strange as of late. And now they were separated by layers upon layers of stone. There was no quick way to get to him.
It made Zelyra wonder…how she would feel if it was Derendil who had been separated from the group. As Fraeya no doubt feared for Sarith, Zelyra similarly worried for the prince. While he had shown a measure of self-control in the wake of their skirmish against Pliinki and Uskvil, he still had a long way to go in controlling his rage.
And beyond the druid's immediate companions, there were many others she worried about. A father that had been captured by drow, a wayward brother, and a handsome ranger on the surface could be counted amongst those whom Zelyra wished she could be reunited with… But when she rolled over to confess that to the drow, the half-elf saw that Fraeya was curled up in her bedroll, silver eyes closed, with her curling, stark white hair tumbling across her face. And in her hand, she firmly clutched a stone of polished obsidian.
I hope he is safe for your sake, Zelyra thought to herself as she looked upon the resting drow.
Knowing that sleep would be impossible for some time, Zelyra decided to instead turn her attention to the injured Prince Derendil. Unfortunately, there hadn't been time in the obelisk room. She had just finished tending to Eldeth when Kazimir activated the obelisk.
As she began gathering gauze and wrappings from her medical kit, the druid gave only half an ear to Kazimir, Fargas, and Nine's discussion. The trio sat in a small circle around their findings from the obelisk room, plus the strange fish skins that Kazimir had stolen from the Empty Scabbard Killers and were sifting through them. The druid heard some talk about a contract and something about an official seal for the city. But beyond that, her focus was on the prince.
The derro mage's spellfire had incinerated what was left of Derendil's tattered robes. So, to maintain a sense of modesty, he had taken parts of the cloak Zelyra had given him—the one he had nearly refused—to fashion a covering for the bottom half of his body. Presently, he sat with his back turned to the group and was licking a burn on his arm. As the druid carefully approached, healing herbs and wraps in hand, she finally saw the extent of his injuries.
"So many scars," Zelyra whispered as her gaze swept over his back.
Indeed, his back held many more scars than he could have possibly sustained from their latest skirmish. Some slashes that cut through the quaggoth's fur appeared greyed and very old. And that made the druid wonder how long had Derendil been trapped in the Underdark? For surely those scars couldn't be a remnant from his elven form!
Derendil lifted his head at the sound of her sad whisper, and a look of embarrassment swept over his features to be caught essentially grooming himself. Now that the prince thought on it, the action had been instinctive. He hadn't even realized what he was doing until Zelyra interrupted him. How embarrassing!
"Ah—pardon me," he sputtered, quick to lower his arm.
Zelyra sat her kit down next to him. "I thought I could look at your wounds now."
The prince nodded and said, "Thank you. You've always been so kind to me."
As Zelyra began to press salve onto the burns on his back and arms, she asked Derendil to tell her more stories of his home in Nelrindenvane. Not just as a distraction for him but also to fulfill her own curiosity. The prince was more than happy to oblige.
Once more, he described a place of order and peace, tall, sparkling spires that glinted in the wake of the setting sun, lush gardens, sculptures, and paintings—so much art filled the castle! As with his appreciation of the murals in the Tomb of Khaem, the prince confessed that he had a similar fascination with the stonework the stone giants did.
"I think I could stare at the reliefs in the main chamber for an age," he said wistfully.
The expressive way he spoke, and with such longing in his voice, made it easy for Zelyra to paint a picture in her mind. Nelrindenvane sounded bright, colorful, and peaceful. Such a stark contrast from Neverwinter Wood, where her people fought day in and day out to edge out the darkness encroaching on their home. Part of Zelyra wanted to see Nelrindenvane for herself just as much as Derendil did.
But then her thoughts took a sudden shift as she tried to imagine what his family might look like, the king, his sister, Gilziriah, and even what Derendil himself might have looked like before the curse. She instantly felt guilty for even attempting to travel down that perilous road. Somehow it didn't seem fair to him. After all, what did it matter if he looked like an elf or a beast? The person on the inside was still the same.
But the druid found that she could not imagine anything past his bright green eyes. The possible color of his hair and skin was utterly lost on her. Moon, sun, or wood elf—she had not a clue. He could've been one of the drow elves for all she knew!
Oblivious to the druid's musings, Derendil continued his tales. And when he mentioned his love of taking afternoon strolls beneath the boughs of great trees on the royal hunting grounds, Zelyra no longer could listen idly.
"I miss the trees as well," she admitted quietly. "And the sun. The feel of the wind in my hair. But I think most of all, I miss the feeling of home…belonging…."
"At least you will be welcomed home," the prince said.
"You don't know that you won't—"
The druid didn't get halfway through her sentence before Derendil furiously interrupted. "LOOK AT ME!" he roared.
To which Zelyra stubbornly replied, "I DON'T CARE! And maybe they won't either!" [6]
The entire chamber fell silent in the wake of the outburst. Nine, Fargas, and Kazimir stared at Zelyra and Derendil with slack jaws. Fraeya had been ripped from deep reverie, and despite the insistence that they were in a safe place, the drow came to with a dagger drawn defensively. Meanwhile, Zelyra and Derendil eyed one another fiercely, breathing heavily, and both unwilling to back down from opposing viewpoints.
"Is everything okay?" Fraeya asked as she lowered her dagger, realizing there was no danger—just heightened party tension.
"It's fine. Just a difference of opinion," the prince snapped.
Zelyra's jaw clenched. Then after a breath, all the resilience left her, and she deflated. Arguing would get them nowhere. She could not imagine what it was like to be in his shoes. The druid then said, "I'm sorry for yelling. I just wish you could see what I see when I look at you."
As the last time they quarreled over his curse, Derendil refused to meet her gaze. Zelyra swiftly stood and began gathering up her supplies. She'd done all that she could for his wounds. As the druid quietly walked back to her bedroll, the prince immediately turned over in his bedroll. But no sooner did Zelyra sit her supplies down did Kazimir's panicked voice ring out through the chamber.
"Guys, we've got a huge problem," the tiefling announced. "We think the Deepking gave the Empty Scabbard Killers a hit list…and Blackskull's name is on it."
[1] I wrote myself into a corner in a previous chapter. There is no official 'main gate' of Gracklstugh. The encounter that the DM can run the party through (i.e., the corrupt guard) can happen at any gate the adventurers find themselves at. Furthermore, the module explicitly says that "the pragmatic nature of the duergar means that all Gracklstugh's entrance gates are similar design, for ease of maintenance and training of the guards." But…one gate could be more heavily used than the others, especially if it were to connect to a main road. So, for this story, we will designate the 'main gate' as the one in the top left corner of the city map.
[2] Note…the characters have only been in Gracklstugh for 4 days. That's *a lot* to endure in 4 days…
[3] I will admit a bit of my art history minor came out here. Though it's been years, we spent *a lot* of time studying cathedral architecture in my Renaissance and Baroque classes. I just hope it works for people who may not be familiar with such terms. Let me know!
[4] Say hello to Broot, everyone! His character was created by a guest player—DM/husband's cousin, ironically. Sadly, he won't be around forever but let me tell you, we often found ourselves saying, "Damnit, where is Broot when you need him!" whenever we found ourselves in a bind after this story arc.
Is the infernal/warforged connection canon? Nope! But in case you missed the hint, it's going to eventually tie into Kazimir's character arc :D Also, reading more on warforged, their age maxes out at like…30 years. For our playthrough, we were totally going with the idea that Broot is WAY older than that and somehow managed to survive. So, safe to say, just ignore anything you think you know about warforged. :D
[5] This is a slightly revamped RP. If I were to be true to the conversation…while Zelyra tended to Derendil's wounds, Fraeya's player sang "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" from The Lion King in the background. Then there was a silly moment where Fraeya suggested cuddling. Zelyra asked, "With the prince or with you?" To which Fraeya replied, "With me! I'm cold!" This led Zelyra to tease Fraeya about missing her boo.
*We might have indulged in a few adult beverages during this session*
I tried to make it work…it just didn't feel right. I'm all about adding humor when it's due. But considering how I've built up Fraeya's character so far, I think it would have felt jarring and out of character to the reader.
[6] We really did shout these lines at each other. The prince's outburst took me so off guard that I yelled right back at DM/husband. Very tense RP.
The events of this chapter and the next all occurred in one session. It was *a lot*. Our routine Tuesday night sessions typically began around 6 or 7pm (depending on how quickly we got through dinner) and finished up around 10pm. But this "weekend special" with Broot ran past 2am(!)…I remember Fraeya's player fell asleep in her dice tray, lol.