Chapter Thirty-One

Breaking Chains

1485 DR / Day 36

Narrack's Hideout

Whorlstone Tunnels, Gracklstugh

Prince Derendil and Fraeya lay in a tangled heap after being unexpectantly released from Narrack's dark spell. But before they could take in the eerie quiet that filled the savant's chamber, a teary Zelyra appeared before them. Not thinking twice about the action, the druid dove to the floor alongside them and enveloped the prince in a bear hug. She took a deep breath, feeling relief that her friend was safe. But when Derendil stiffened at the close contact instead of returning the embrace, Zelyra pushed aside the rejection and did something even more bewildering—she hugged Fraeya.

"What are you doing?!" the drow cried in alarm.

"It's called a hug," the half-elf replied.

Fraeya was baffled. "Well, why are you doing it?"

"Because I'm glad that you're both okay," Zelyra said with unexpected honesty as she squeezed the drow harder. She never dreamed that she would hug one whose kin had slaughtered her people for sport and taken her father prisoner.

And yet…here they were.

Fraeya awkwardly patted the overly emotional druid on the back as conflict rose within her. The drow could honestly say she had never known a comforting hand in her lifetime. Empty passion, perhaps, but nothing like this—something as pure and simple as a hug. The lessons that had been viciously instilled in her head since she was a babe told Fraeya that such displays of affection were weak, soft. And yet, secretly, the drow couldn't help thinking that it was not so bad…

Zelyra released Fraeya and sat back on her heels. "What happened to you guys? What did Narrack's magic do?" she pressed.

Derendil shook his head. "I cannot say… I was trapped in a place I never wish to go to again. It was empty, void," he said solemnly.

"Same," Fraeya shuddered. The drow surveyed the quiet space and took in the smoking corpses of Narrack, the female mage, and the ettin before her silvery eyes locked on something…frankly bizarre…occurring in the far northern part of the ritual chamber. "Uh—what's Broot doing?" she asked.

Zelyra and Derendil turned, only to find the same confusing scene that Fraeya observed. Broot was drawing a giant symbol on the wall in blood—notably, Narrack's blood. Nine stood beside him, and the two appeared to be in some sort of argument. Kazimir, Fargas, and Sarith were too busy huddled over the contents of a chest they'd found to notice, and Eldeth was in the entrance chamber sifting through the broken pieces of the other monument.

"Are we certain we can trust him?" Zelyra whispered cagily.

"I don't trust anyone in this city," Fraeya replied. The drow swiftly stood and began dusting off her leathers. She then pointed in Fargas, Sarith, and Kazimir's direction and said, "I guess we should see what the boys are gawking over."

But as they reached Fargas, Sarith, and Kazimir, the trio overheard a startling conversation…

"It's all here! All of it!" Kazimir exclaimed. "Plans to steal the dragon egg and its mutation, stealing the Thrazgad ore to repair the obelisk, cursing to stone giants to unseat the powers of—" he stopped short and took a deep breath upon skimming another letter. "By the gods…the egg wasn't Demogorgon's gift…."

"Then what was?" Fargas asked.

"The city…the entire city…" the wizard sputtered.

Sarith sternly replied, "We need to show this to Blackskull at once. I won't endure another Sloobludop. We've taken out the Council's leader and three other savants…but that leaves 32 to plan their revenge against us."

"NINE! ELDETH! GET OVER HERE!" Fraeya barked.

Fargas, Kazimir, and Sarith looked up from the letters in alarm, only to see Fraeya standing over them, hands on her hips, and her face blazing with fury. Zelyra had her hands pressed against her mouth in horror, and Prince Derendil looked like he was about to be sick.

Nine and Eldeth quickly hurried over, recognizing the urgency in Fraeya's tone. And when the group was all assembled, Kazimir shakily read off the contents of the damning letter he had found within Narrack's stash. It was less of a letter and more a mess of maddening scribbles—perhaps some sort of journal entry—but Kazimir could read it thanks to his comprehension spell. It was every bit as horrifying as the adventurers could have dreamed.

Narrack saw Demogorgon while traveling on the Dark Lake and began to experience strange dreams shortly after. When he returned to Gracklstugh, the derro began leaving Demogorgon's symbol wherever he went. The demon lord completely and utterly consumed his thoughts. Narrack's obsession was eventually discovered by fellow members of the Council of Savants, and over time, he convinced them to join him. In a matter of weeks, Narrack converted all thirty-six savants. They therein formed the Cult of Demogorgon.

The Council then infiltrated the Gray Ghosts to gain access to its network of thieves, as Narrack planned to commission Pliinki to repair an obelisk using Clan Thrazgad's acid-resistant ore. His dreams, visions sent by the demon lord himself, told him that the obelisk had teleportation abilities. Once restored, the Council of Savants could use its power to bring the demon lord to the City of Blades. The dragon egg was stolen by converted Grey Ghosts for Pliinki's pet project. It was meant to be Demogorgon's mount! As for cursing the stone giants…well, that was all a ploy to unseat the powers of the city. The cult would begin with the stone giants, but it wouldn't end there… The derro were tired of being repressed by the duergar. United under the banner of Demogorgon, they would become the blood of Gracklstugh. A new power was on the cusp of rising.

"Gracklstugh is a center of trade," Fargas whispered, for that was all he could muster in the wake of hearing such a bombshell. "If it is unseated, the effects will ripple to all other settlements in the Underdark and perhaps even beyond."

"Which is why we must take this evidence to Captain Blackskull, as Sarith said. Though perhaps after a rest," Fraeya suggested to the weary party. "This doesn't just affect Gracklstugh. It affects us all. The City of Blades has far more political influence than a fishing village."

"You realize this is going to start a war, right?" Nine barked.

Fraeya swallowed heavily. "Yes."

"And they will likely trap us into fighting," the ranger continued angrily. "And here I thought we were trying to leave this city!"

The drow shrugged helplessly. "To do nothing could result in another Sloobludop…but ten times worse," she said. "I don't think the Council's plans will stop with Narrack's death. If anything, it might just rally them. Madness such as that, it is a sickness. Once it takes hold…."

Sarith shot a panicked look in the rogue's direction. Those words were frighteningly familiar. Did she know—

Fraeya boldly met his gaze.

"What about the egg?" Eldeth asked. "Are we to just leave it?"

"For now…" Kazimir said though a tinge of uncertainty was detected in his voice.

"It was well concealed in the fungal growth," Zelyra said. "And I wouldn't think it wise to openly carry it through the city anyways. So we'll have to devise a way to disguise it for transport, which we don't have now."

"A problem for later then…" the shield dwarf grumbled. [1]

"What about Gartokkar and the Keepers of the Flame?" Prince Derendil asked.

"I have a sneaking suspicion that even if we tell Gartokkar that the egg is corrupted, he will still refuse to destroy it," Zelyra said nervously. "He was far too obsessed with its retrieval. There was something…something he wasn't telling us."

With their next steps mostly agreed upon, Kazimir shoved Narrack's letters back into the chest and gave it, along with the aloe-scented ointment, to Zelyra to stuff in her bag of holding. The coin stash was split evenly amongst the party for eleven gold pieces and four silver. Nothing else was found on the guards' bodies or the unnamed female savant. And so, after dragging Broot away from the bloody wall—apparently, the warforged felt the need to leave his former squadron's symbol as a warning for the demon worshipers who found the bodies—the companions prepared to return to the city proper. They would avoid Gartokkar for as long as possible. Perhaps Blackskull could help them with that. Otherwise, they were confident that they had more than enough evidence to fulfill Blackskull's quest and that the Whorlstone Tunnels needed no further exploration.

Little did they know, the devious plans of one mind flayer and his host of assassins…

. . .

Broot separated from the party as soon as they reached the abandoned watchtowers in the West Cleff. The warforged turned due south to deliver a full report to Hgraam in Cairngorm Cavern, while the adventurers turned northeast. If needed, the Stonespeakers could reach the party at Ghohlbrorn's Lair, where they planned to take a must needed rest. They would present their collected evidence to Captain Blackskull at Overlake Hold first thing in the morning.

The short delay in visiting Blackskull was made at the party's exhaustion—literally, in Sarith and Eldeth's case—but Kazimir also insisted on studying the cipher on the document the thirty-six savants had signed. The tiefling was firmly convinced that it was some sort of contract for the Cult of Demogorgon. And he had no doubt that once Blackskull had all evidence in hand, the adventurers would lose all access to their findings. Duergar did not trust outsiders, after all.

But fate works in mysterious ways…

As the party sluggishly trudged through the Blade Bazaar—winded, bruised, and in some cases, covered in days of dried blood—they passed by the same arena that Eldeth had pointed out to Zelyra four days earlier. The shield dwarf had thought it might be The Forge, the gladiator pits that Balasar claimed to have fought in during his enslavement. Four days ago, the arena had been dark and empty, so the pair had moved on without investigating. But it was much the opposite at present. Hundreds of torches were lit, throngs of duergar filled the stands, and a fight was in progress down in the deep pit.

Once more, the shield dwarf tugged on the half-elf's arm and hissed, "Look! A fight's in progress!"

The pair slowed and fell behind their companions. Due to its natural setup, being a pit and all, Zelyra could see straight down into it despite many rows of spectators. A male drow and quaggoth prepared to face off against one another on opposite sides of the ring. The drow wielded a longsword and shield, but the quaggoth was weaponless—at least by traditional means. Zelyra and Eldeth watched in horror as the raging quaggoth tore across the field in the blink of an eye, swiftly overtook the armored drow by sheer brutish force…and then ate him. It was over in less than two minutes. The crowd went wild, but Zelyra thought she might get sick. She could not help making the connection between the quaggoth in the ring…and the prince when he lost himself to bestial rage.

"Derendil," the druid sputtered.

"He's not like that," Eldeth said as she placed a comforting hand against the druid's arm. "Prince Derendil wouldn't harm a fly."

"Wouldn't he?" Zelyra muttered, looking down at her leather armor, which bore evidence of the savage attacks Derendil had delivered to her in the wake of the party's battle against Buppido. Perhaps tomorrow, after the party spoke with Blackskull, she could buy a new set of leathers in the Bazaar.

Eldeth frowned, also eyeing Zelyra's compromised armor. "Okay, perhaps he could…but not on purpose."

"Not on purpose," the druid echoed sadly.

To some extent, Zelyra understood. How could she explain the natural instincts that came to her when she shifted? Deep down, the druid could no more condemn Derendil for his natural urges than she could herself. She knew what it was like to pierce skin, to feel the gush of blood in her mouth. She'd experienced it that very day while battling the cultists and death dog in her panther form! It wasn't pleasant. But if the attacks were made in defense of someone she cared for or to take out a greater evil, Zelyra was resigned to do whatever it took.

But Derendil had no choice. He did not have the freedom to choose forms as Zelyra did. He was trapped in an accursed body. So no, the druid did not blame him for his rage. But it was wise to fear it and pray for the prince's sanity. Zelyra shuddered. Too much time spent in a wild form could severely alter a person's mental state.

"Look!" Eldeth suddenly cried. "They're about to start another fight!"

"We really should catch up with the others—"

But the druid's argument effectively died on her tongue when she saw who was being led into the arena in chains… A familiar bronze dragonborn with an ancient Netherese sun sword strapped to his belt.

Balasar looked worse for wear. His gaze was drawn, downtrodden, but that was to be expected of someone who had their freedom unexpectedly ripped away again. The unique shell and bone chainmail given to him by the people of Sloobludop was gone. In its place was a shining suit of plate with razor-sharp, jagged pauldrons that could be used as a weapon on their own—if the dragonborn were to shoulder his opponent hard enough. It looked expensive. But the suit was presumably less of a gift and more of an insurance measure paid for by Balasar's master.

Eldeth's hands balled into tight, white fists. "The traitorous, rat bastard sold Balasar back into slavery!" she barked.

"It's better than the alternative…." Zelyra muttered. "I suppose that's what that sales slip that Fraeya and Sarith found in Buppido's lair was for. Bunrick paid well."

"But how are we to get him back?!" the shield dwarf asked frantically. "Balasar escaped his slave master once. I doubt he'll be able to easily do so a second time."

An announcer made a magically enhanced introduction to the fight, but as neither knew Undercommon, Zelyra and Eldeth could not understand it. So instead, the pair watched with dread pitting in their stomachs as the quaggoth from the previous match was led back into the ring. Its mouth was stained with the blood of its former opponent, and it appeared to have not calmed from its frenzied state. The beast wildly fought against its chains and the handlers attempting to keep it…complacent.

Zelyra grasped Eldeth's hand for support. The druid could only pray that they were not about to witness their friend be devoured.

"Balasar is strong," Eldeth muttered, more to herself than Zelyra. "He'll win."

"And he has Dawnbringer," Zelyra said.

But just as the match was about to start, an exasperated voice tore the half-elf and shield dwarf's gaze away from the pit. "There you are! We thought we lost you!" It was Kazimir, and Derendil was with him. "The others went on back to the Lair. Fargas claimed he was starving and needed an ale… So, Prince and I volunteered to come back to look for you," the tiefling said. [2]

"Sssshhh," Eldeth hissed. "Yer interruptin' the fight."

Kazimir and Derendil looked down into the pit and saw the two contestants.

"Wait—is that Balasar?!" the prince exclaimed.

Zelyra and Eldeth both nodded.

"He was here the entire time!" Kazimir said.

"We should've tried harder…." Eldeth muttered. In her distress, her brogue came out all the clearer. "We've been in tha' city fer five days! We should've—"

Zelyra shook her head. "Eldeth…we didn't know!"

The four companions stood in silence as the fight began. While Prince Derendil and Kazimir watched with childlike excitement—they hadn't witnessed what the quaggoth did to its former opponent—Zelyra and Eldeth held their breath. But as the quaggoth tore across the field once more, Balasar drew Dawnbringer and met them head-on. And just as in the previous fight, it was over in the blink of an eye.

When the two brutes met on the battlefield, Dawnbringer flared to life. Pure, unadulterated sunlight blazed around the dragonborn and sun sword in a fifteen-foot radius. The quaggoth initially shrunk back, blinded. And yet, the beast's frenzied rage pushed them forward. They came at Balasar with sloppy bite and claw attacks. The brass dragonborn countered every single one. Dawnbringer's light continued to inch forward, eventually reaching a thirty-foot radius. Those with sun sensitivity watching in the stands, such as Derendil, were forced to shield their eyes.

The quaggoth's resolve was waning under Dawnbringer's blinding light. Now it was simply fighting for its life. Balasar realized this. Having all the advantage, the dragonborn overpowered the beast and knocked it to the ground. He forced the blunt side of Dawnbringer to the quaggoth's throat and held fast. A bit of blood was drawn, but not enough to be of harm. For a while, the gray-furred beast squirmed and roared beneath the dragonborn. But after a full minute of holding pressure, it stilled.

Balasar had chosen to render the quaggoth unconscious, not give them an unjust death. Because it wasn't his call to decide who had the right to live and who deserved to die. That quaggoth was just as trapped as he, and a cornered animal could do terrible, terrible things. That was the true reason Balasar was the undisputed champion of the Forge—over the years, he'd earned the respect of his fellow contestants as he respected them in turn. The stands erupted into frenzied cheers and chants.

"What are they saying?" Eldeth asked the prince. He was the only one among them that spoke Undercommon.

"They're chanting Bunrick's champion," Derendil translated.

"Who's Bunrick?" Zelyra wondered.

"His master," the shield dwarf answered with a growl. "I remember that name…."

"Maybe someone around here knows something," Kazimir suggested as he surveyed the stands, looking for someone approachable—a surface dweller, preferably. As luck would have it, the tiefling spotted a hill dwarf with a bushy black beard sitting quietly in the last aisle of the stands, and they were alone.

"Reckon we can offer to buy Balasar's freedom?" Eldeth asked.

Kazimir looked down at the shield dwarf, who stood nearly two feet shorter than him, and cocked an eyebrow as a plan formulated in his head. "I would've thought you'd sooner fight for it," he said cheekily.

Eldeth shouldered her trusty battle axe with a grin. "Aye, ye'd be right about that!"

"Then come with me," the crafty wizard bade. "I've got a plan."

Zelyra's keen gaze flitted between the pair before understanding washed over her. "Wait!" The druid lay a hand on the shield dwarf and muttered a quick blessing. Then with a smile, she said, "Go forth with the bear's endurance. Fight hard for our friend."

"Thanks, Z," the shield dwarf said appreciatively.

As Kazimir and Eldeth walked away, they heard Prince Derendil ask Zelyra, "Do you think there's an ale stand around here?" To which the druid excitedly replied, "A fine idea! But what about popcorn?! Do you think they have that in the Underdark?" The tiefling and shield dwarf sniggered to themselves.

A quick conversation with the bushy-bearded surface dwarf revealed him to be a former slave who had earned his freedom fighting in the pits. When asked why he remained in Gracklstugh instead of returning to the lands above, the dwarf shrugged and said that he'd been away from the surface for so long he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he went back. Kazimir then asked about Bunrick and his champion. The dwarf eagerly pointed Bunrick out in the crowd.

Bunrick was the apparent owner of the gladiator pits and, therefore, in charge of all the fights. But he was also a prominent member of Gracklstugh's slave trade and used that influence to…profit…his own business. The slave trader stood at the gate, prepping his champion for the next fight. He had the look of an ordinary duergar with white hair, no beard, and wore utilitarian clothing. Notably, Bunrick was not armored. However, he did have a sword strapped to his hip for intimidation purposes rather than actual use. But the whip that the slave trader held in hand was a different story. Eldeth's hands clenched into angry fists. If she ever found out that the fool beat Balasar…

"A rather unpleasant fellow," the dwarven spectator muttered. "What do you want with 'em?"

Kazimir smiled. "I wish to present a challenger for his champion," he said.

The hill dwarf's eyebrows rose in surprise. But as he regarded Eldeth's fuming stance and the battle axe strapped to her back stained with ettin blood, he returned the tiefling's grin and said, "Be sure to give 'em hell! It's about time Bunrick knew what it was like to lose."

Kazimir and Eldeth parted ways with the bushy-bearded dwarf then. They wanted to intercept Bunrick before the next fight began. As the pair raced down a set of stone steps, taking two at a time in some cases, Kazimir cast a greater comprehension spell upon himself. He could have relied upon Eldeth's Dwarvish but did not trust his silver-tongued effect to work the same through translation. The wizard had a few spells left after their battle with Narrack…this one would not be wasted.

They reached the gate just in time. Balasar was about to reenter the arena when Kazimir loudly called out for Bunrick to stop the fight.

Upon hearing a familiar voice, the bronze dragonborn stopped dead in his tracks, even though Bunrick insistently pulled on his chains and completely ignored the call. Both the dragonborn and his master knew that if Balasar really wanted to, he could overpower Bunrick. But Bunrick had other ways of keeping the dragonborn in line. Such as threatening to melt Dawnbringer down in the forges… [3]

"Your friends have come to rescue you," the sentient sword sang in Balasar's head. "I told you that they would not abandon you."

By the gods, the dragonborn prayed it to be so. It had been a long five days in the slave pits. He'd nearly given up hope of rescue or interference and probably would have done so sooner if not for Dawnbringer's relentless council. The sun sword refused to believe that Balasar's friends would so easily forsake him—especially Eldeth.

"Listen to what the tiefling has to say," Balasar pleaded to his master.

"Why should I?" Bunrick hissed in reply.

"Because perhaps you could profit from it. The tiefling looks wealthy. Just look at his robes! Perhaps he has come to make a bet," the dragonborn said, appealing to Bunrick's vice. His greediness was unusually strong for a duergar. And if anything, that gluttony had only increased since the last time Balasar had seen his master.

It worked. With a resounding sigh, Bunrick turned to face the approaching tiefling and shield dwarf. "What do you want!" he shouted irritably. "You're interrupting the entertainment!"

"Not interrupting—merely asking to add to the entertainment," Kazimir said silkily as he raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. "The dragonborn is right. I'd like to make a wager that could end in profit for you."

This had Bunrick listening. "Aye…go on…"

"It is said that your champion is the uncontested winner of this pit," the silver-tongued tiefling began. "But are you certain? As you see, I also have a champion and am curious who is best." At this, Kazimir gestured between Eldeth and Balasar. The dragonborn's eyes lit up as he began to catch on to the plan.

"Where does the profit come in?" Bunrick asked testily as he folded his arms.

"If my champion best yours, I own them both." The slave master immediately began to protest, but Kazimir held up a hand and said, "But, if he manages to best her, then I will relinquish my slave to you. Just think about it! Two reigning champions!"

Bunrick considered that a moment before a wily grin overtook his smallish features. "I accept your challenge, but I'll raise it! If I'm putting my champion on the line, I want a fair fight," he argued.

"But—"

"If you want my champion, then you must fight for him. And if you lose…" the duergar laughed maliciously. "Then I shall own all three of you. And this is to be strictly a melee fight! No magic tricks! The deal's off if I catch wind that even one spell is cast. Those are my terms. Take it or leave it."

Balasar, Eldeth, and Kazimir exchanged looks of resignation. If the only way for the party to break Balasar's chains was for their wizard to fight… Said wizard was thankful that the party had not rushed back to the city from Narrack's hideout. They'd taken time to heal wounds, to take a brief rest, amid searching the room for evidence.

Kazimir held his hand out to the duergar and said, "Deal."

Bunrick accepted the outstretched hand with a mad grin that nearly split his face. He did not believe that the puny mage he saw before him could best his champion. Bunrick was going home with another fighter in his pocket. And a busty one at that, the duergar thought as he appreciatively eyed Eldeth up and down. Perhaps she might have other uses…

Eldeth sensed the salacious thoughts and resisted the urge to smash her axe into the lude man's face. Instead, as Kazimir began to follow Bunrick and Balasar into the arena, the shield dwarf grasped his arm and said, "Remember the conversation we had in the Tomb of Khaem after we defeated Brysis? Zelyra's advice to ye then was sound—if ye must choose between a sword and a shield, always pick the shield." [4]

"I think I'll stick to my staff, thank you. A shield might be too bulky for me," the wizard muttered. He looked around shiftily, saw that Bunrick's back was turned, and quickly placed a blade ward upon himself. The slave trader was non-the-wiser. Kazimir breathed a sigh of relief. Between the ward and his ritualistic casting of mage armor upon waking that morning, the wizard thought he might have a standing chance.

Eldeth was grinning at him. "Then just remember what we taught you during our sparring sessions. Keep your hands low to strike with more force," the fighter advised. "Even if he blocks, look for an opening to slip through. Your staff has far more reach than Dawnbringer and can prove the harder hit too. Hold nothing back. He can take it."

The tiefling nodded and followed Bunrick and Balasar into the pit. The only weapons he currently had on him were his staff, a dagger, and a light crossbow. Kazimir knew he could not take the dragonborn down with a single dagger. Eldeth and Balasar had given him many pointers on fighting with his staff, but his best hope was shooting from range. Then, all he had to do was keep the melee fighter at a distance. Run and shoot. It could work.

But fate was not in his favor. Unlike previous matches, where contestants began on opposite sides of the field, Balasar and Kazimir were pitted against each other in the middle of the arena. Kazimir had no doubt that Bunrick had done this on purpose. The slave trader stood between the pair and gleefully shouted to the crowd, "TODAY, WE HAVE AN UNPRECEDENTED MELEE FIGHT! THIS PUNY MAGE THINKS HE CAN BEST MY CHAMPION! IF HE WINS, HE TAKES OWNERSHIP OF BUNRICK'S CHAMPION! BUT IF HE FAILS, I OWN HIM! I ASK YOU, PEOPLE OF GRACKLSTUGH, WHO DO YOU THINK WILL BE OWNING WHO?!"

Immediately, taunts and jeers rippled through the crowd. It felt as if the entire stadium was laughing at him. Kazimir cringed with embarrassment.

"Do not let their lack of faith worry you," Dawnbringer spoke in the wizard's head. "Balasar and I are on your side. Listen to me, and I will guide you through the proper attacks."

Meanwhile, up in the audience, Zelyra and Derendil had found an ale stand but, sadly, no popcorn. Apparently, that was not a thing in the Underdark. They took seats next to the bushy-bearded hill dwarf that Kazimir and Eldeth had spoken to with full tankards of Clan Muzgardt's ale in hand. After politely introducing themselves to the dwarf—whom they learned was named Meldhr—and exchanging quick pleasantries, they sat back to enjoy the fight. But their eyes widened in bewilderment when Kazimir, not Eldeth, walked onto the field with Balasar and Bunrick.

"What's 'e doing down there?" Meldhr whistled.

Zelyra nearly dropped her tankard. "That wasn't the plan!"

"Plans must have changes…" the hill dwarf said. "This should be over quickly."

The druid found herself rounding on the stranger. "Kazimir is more capable than what you know! He was taught to fight by Bunrick's Champion himself!" she claimed.

Meldhr shrunk back at the half-elf's sudden outburst. "Aye, I meant no offense. 'E just doesn't look like a fighter."

"Well, he might just surprise you," Prince Derendil said with a half-smile as he settled back in his seat and took several deep sips from his tankard.

The hill dwarf then caught on to something else Zelyra had said. "Wait—you know Bunrick's champion?" he exclaimed.

"Why do you think we're fighting for his freedom?" the druid said.

Understanding washed over Meldhr then, and he said, with the utmost sincerity, "Wish I would've had friends like you when I was in the pits… For your sake and theirs, I hope the mage wins."

Down on the battlefield, Kazimir and Balasar locked eyes.

"Go easy on me, buddy," the wizard pleaded.

"Not a chance. I don't lose," the fighter returned. But it was only for show, for Bunrick was still near them.

As soon as the slave trader left the arena and the gates were shut, Balasar made his first vicious downward swing. As they had to make the fight realistic, the dragonborn held nothing back and came at the wizard in full force. But, as promised, Dawnbringer told Kazimir how the fighter planned to strike. The wizard frantically threw up his staff to block. He then shifted his grip low on the weapon and swung out at the dragonborn with all his might. Balasar effortlessly blocked the blow, but at the cost of his guard. Kazimir could then take an advancing step forward and shift the angle of his staff downward, to strike cleanly at the dragonborn's knee.

Balasar grinned as the blow made solid contact, and his knee actually buckled.

"Good. Very good," the fighter praised. "You remembered what I taught you."

After Balasar and Eldeth offered to teach the wizard how to defend himself following the defeat of Brysis, the trio spent time going through the basic blocks and attacks over the following days. The fighters had also explicitly trained Kazimir to throw off the balance of a longsword or battle axe with his staff. Between this and Dawnbringer's telepathic messages, Kazimir truly had all the advantage. Balasar was not holding any of his strength back, but he purposely used blocks and feints that would allow Kazimir to slip past his guard—if he was smart enough to recognize those openings. So, in a roundabout way, this was more of a test of the wizard's memory and reflexes than the instant knockout that Bunrick had been expecting.

The wizard and fighter continued their game of cat and mouse as they exchanged blows and moved about the field. To the crowd's surprise, Kazimir slipped past Balasar's guard many times to successfully hit the pit's undefeated champion. He was slowly chipping away at Balasar's stamina. The blow of a hardwood staff was not easily shaken.

The audience's taunts and jeers quickly transformed into cheering for the underdog. Bunrick's smug smile fell away then and left a slack jaw in its place. Eldeth stood by the slave master at the gate and wildly egged her companions on.

Kazimir's grip failed on a block at one point, and Balasar landed a deep slash to the tiefling's bicep. As Dawnbringer's burning, radiant energy flooded through him, Kazimir felt himself rebuking his companion before he thought twice about the action. Hellish flames angrily lashed out against Balasar to burn and lick at his bronze scales. And in the wake of it, the dragonborn was left burned and breathing heavily.

"Ouch," the dragonborn whined.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry! It was an accident!" the tiefling hissed.

But the crowd went absolutely insane. Bunrick threw his hands on the bars of the gate and screamed, "I SAID NO MAGIC!"

"I'M A HALF-DEVIL!" Kazimir cried. "I CAN'T ALWAYS CONTROL MY NATURE!"

"It's true!" Eldeth told Bunrick, though she knew that Kazimir typically had full control of his infernal attributes. "It's a defense mechanism! He didn't do it on purpose!"

Bunrick grumbled but came away from the bars, seeming to believe the lie.

The fight wore on, lasting far longer than the previous two. The crowd was at the edge of their seat. This was unlike anything they had ever seen in the pits. It was a test of wit, not a desperate fight—for both contestants trusted one another. Balasar was surprisingly the worse for wear of the two. Still, the audience was torn whether they wanted their champion to maintain his undefeated status…or to see him bested by an underdog.

Kazimir took a deep breath and willed himself to focus. His staff had a foundation of ash, was nearly one and one-quarter thick, and housed a cluster of blue crystals in its head. It had been given to him by his elven mentor, Soveliss Oussnddare, on his eighteenth birthday. Kazimir well remembered that day. It was a day that started out with such excitement and promise, only to end in blood and hellfire…

But the ash tree was often associated with wisdom, intelligence, and divination. All three were things that Soveliss had imparted to his adopted son, his prodigy, before his untimely passing. Ash was also unyielding. It was hardwood. And Kazimir knew that this was one situation where he could not yield. [5]

Balasar's freedom depended on this.

Hell, Eldeth's and his own did too, as per their wager.

"TAKE 'EM DOWN, KAZ!" Eldeth bellowed from the gate in Dwarvish. She thrust a fist in the air and chanted, "KAZIMIR! KAZIMIR!" And to the wizard's utter bewilderment, countless others in the stands echoed his companion's zealous cheer.

Kazimir let Dawnbringer slip past his guard. He took a stinging slice to the calf so that he could reposition his hands on his staff, down low, took a step forward, and spun the staff up and around in a clean arc to make a swift two-handed downward strike. Balasar brought Dawnbringer up to block, but the sentient sword was already telepathically praising the wizard's ingenuity, for she knew precisely what was about to happen. The dragonborn did too, and he was already dreading the headache that was to follow.

Balasar's grip on Dawnbringer's hilt faltered as Kazimir's staff came down on his head with a resounding CRAAACK. The dragonborn's vision blurred, and he began to sway. The crowd hushed, except for Bunrick, who animatedly cursed Kazimir and Balasar to the pits of the Nine Hells. The tiefling chuckled at the ironic wording as he stepped back from the swaying dragonborn and waited.

Bunrick's champion came crashing to the ground, thus forfeiting his undefeated streak as he was rendered unconscious by a most unlikely opponent—his friend.

Up in the stands, Zelyra and Derendil were the first to jump from their seats and scream bloody murder for Kazimir's unprecedented win. Their ale and tankards went flying. This time, when the druid bear-hugged the prince out of pure adrenaline, he picked her up and spun her around with equal enthusiasm. When the prince released her, Zelyra turned and hugged Meldhr, much to the hill dwarf's shock. He was a blushing mess. But in the heat of the moment, what were personal boundaries? After sharing a rousing goodbye and wishes of good luck, Zelyra and Derendil parted ways with Meldhr and rushed to join Eldeth at the gates of the arena to welcome in the new champion of the Forge.

Bunrick threw open the gate and sprinted onto the field to check on Balasar. He did not believe the defeat possible—it had to be some trick, some farce! Balasar simply had to be faking! But as the slave trader knelt next to the unconscious dragonborn, slapped his face twice, and got no response, Bunrick was resigned.

Eldeth, Derendil, and Zelyra joined their companions and Bunrick on the field then. The druid immediately launched into spellcasting ahead of the team of healers that followed them, not only to bring Balasar back to consciousness but to give some stamina back to Kazimir. Unfortunately, his adrenaline had worn off. The wizard swayed on his feet and was fighting pure exhaustion. It had been the longest day…

Meanwhile, the cheers coming from the stands were like none other that had been heard before. The crowd was simply starstruck by what they had just witnessed. It would be the talk of Gracklstugh for days to come! Finally, Bunrick's champion was defeated by a mage! And without the use of magic! To their knowledge, at least…

Kazimir turned to Bunrick. "So, will you honor our deal?" he sneered, his purpose and rage renewed by Zelyra's healing spell.

"I don't understand it, but fine! You…weakling…now own my champion," Bunrick barked angrily. "But you may have him, and only him! All his belongings, including the magic sword, are mine!"

"Not a chance. That wasn't part of the deal," the wizard argued.

"I think Kazimir proved that he is not weak," Eldeth said as she drew her battle axe and pointed it at the slave trader threateningly. "And I would think twice about trying to swindle him. Or you would sooner find yerself battling me!"

"I suggest you listen to her," Kazimir said, weaving some magic into his words.

Simultaneously, the slave trader was viciously berated by an incensed, sentient sword. He threw his hands to his ears as Dawnbringer viciously rebuked him, but the action was futile. He could not purge her voice from his head. A few lines of, "I did not endure the destruction of Netheril, be betrayed by my former bearer, be sealed away in a box for a millennium, and awaken in the unforgiving dark to suffer to the likes of you," and Bunrick succumbed to the verbal attacks on three fronts. By the time Balasar, Zelyra, and Derendil tried to put their two copper pieces in, the duergar waved a desperate hand and pleaded for Dawnbringer's mental assault to stop.

"Just know—you won't hear the end of this! I paid for that plate armor and will see that I get my property back once I report you to the Captain of the Stoneguard," the slave trader threatened uselessly.

Kazimir shrugged. "Go right ahead. Now, if that is all, we'll be going."

Bunrick's enraged grumbling followed the five companions all the way out of the arena. As they climbed the stairs leading out of the pit and back to Gracklstugh proper, both Kazimir and Balasar were accosted by various audience members. The denizens of the City of Blades could appreciate a good fight. Especially one that kept them on their toes. It took nearly thirty minutes for the companions to reach the top! But once they did, they began a slow trudge through the Blade Bazaar and returned to Ghohlbrorn's Lair for a well-deserved rest.

. . .

Balasar's exhaustion was so great that he immediately claimed a random cot in the boy's room and passed out on it as soon as the companions returned to their rooms at the Lair. Derendil was quick to follow as he felt the combined effects of the day and the ale he'd consumed during the fight. And so, the new champion of the Forge was left staring at the third and final bed in their room…which oh-so-conveniently contained a sleeping halfling. Kazimir turned back on his heel and went to the common room for a drink. He would need it if he was denied the comfort of a cot and forced to sleep on the floor again that night.

The tiefling ordered an ale from Lizva and then surveyed the common room. It was mostly empty, with only a few patrons sitting down for a meal or settling down for a nightcap as Kazimir was about to do. But among the patrons, he did catch the eye of a certain golden-haired half-elf. Zelyra sat alone at a table. A small cauldron and various potion ingredients were laid around her, and she appeared to be crushing something with a mortar and pestle.

"What are you making?" Kazimir asked as he took a seat across from the druid.

"A potion of healing," the druid answered tiredly. "I told you I could make one at a fraction of the cost, but this is the first chance I've gotten since we went to that shop in the Blade Bazaar."

"How long does it take?" the tiefling asked, eyeing the shadows beneath his companion's eyes.

"Eight hours," Zelyra replied as she stifled a yawn.

"Anything I can do to speed up the process?" Kazimir offered. "You need to sleep."

The druid visibly brightened and pushed a handful of ingredients his way. "Here—crush these with the mortar and pestle," she instructed. "I'll tell you when it's time to add them to the cauldron. It's a precise process that can very easily be messed up."

"What happens if you mess it up?"

"It explodes."

The tiefling dropped the pestle. "Perhaps I shouldn't—"

The half-elf sniggered. "I'm kidding. If done incorrectly, it won't be as effective."

Kazimir relaxed and went back to work.

For the next four hours, the two companions went through the painstaking process of brewing a health potion. But thanks to Kazimir's assistance, it cut what would have otherwise been an eight-hour task for the druid in half. During that time, Kazimir returned to Lizva several times to refill his tankard of ale and buy a few rounds for Zelyra. They chatted about this and that as they worked, nothing too serious. Both seemed to want to avoid bringing up the elephant in the room—or rather, multiple elephants. For one night, they wished to pretend as if the entire fate of Gracklstugh did not weigh on their shoulders. [6]

But nearing the end of their task, Zelyra thought to present a topic that had been nagging at her conscious for a while. "Kaz, I'd like to ask you something, and if you don't want to answer, it's okay. But…I don't know much about your kind. I was sort of secluded growing up," she began. Kazimir raised and brow but otherwise gestured for the druid to continue. "How are people like you made? Do you have human parents or…?" she let the alternate option hang awkwardly in the air.

The tiefling cringed. He opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it. How could he ever explain it to her and not have her run away screaming?

Noticing his discomfiture, the druid immediately backpedaled. "I'm sorry! Forget that I asked," she said.

"No, it's fine!" Kazimir assured her. Perhaps it was finally time to tell someone. He'd been alone for such a long while—decades. It was nice to finally have friends. And so, he said, "It's okay to have questions. I know I did while growing up. You have no idea how often I hounded my mentor about my heritage. But to answer your question, I was born to human parents."

The past tense wording was not lost upon Zelyra. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said.

But Kazimir wasn't finished. "I hardly knew them. They were murdered when I was an infant by Mother for going back on the deal they made with her," he spat out the word 'mother' like it was the equivalent to poison. A look of anguish washed over the tiefling's dark features. "I was found by an elven wizard and raised as his prodigy. But She eventually killed him too…."

Zelyra was horrified. Not by the story itself but by what he'd been forced to endure.

"Is your mother a…?"

The druid couldn't bring herself to say the word, so she covered it with a quick sip of her ale.

"A devil queen."

That sip of ale spewed across the table, straight into the wizard's face.

This time it was Kazimir who backpedaled. "Well…not a queen, per se…er…I…you know what, forget I said anything. Please don't tell the others!" he pleaded. "I'm not a bad guy. I'm not like them. But I can't help what I am!"

Zelyra believed him, and that's why, to Kazimir's relief, she swiftly changed the subject. "I also lost my birth parents when I was young. My older brother and I were found by the druid who taught me everything I know. If not for Laucian, I don't know where I would be today," she revealed sadly.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," the tiefling said knowingly. "Is he also…dead?"

"That I could not tell you. He was captured by drow raiding the surface. I also could not tell you why they were in our forest home, so far away from theirs. But I can tell you that they killed three of my kin, and Laucian was taken prisoner. That is why I am here in the Underdark," the druid said. Then, after a deep breath, she added, "I won't return to the surface until I find him."

"Do you have any leads?" Kazimir asked.

The druid shook her head. "What about you? How did you find yourself down here? Aside from capture, of course."

Again, the wizard hesitated, but this time, for an entirely different reason. He hoped that the druid would not think him crazy. But he'd already revealed his most damning secret. What was a little more… "It was capture. I was on a wagon bound for Silverymoon. A few years ago, I began having a reoccurring vision of an ancient subterranean library that contained books that would aid me in my studies. I've been to countless archives and sought out scholars from all over the Sword Coast, but there is simply no mention of this place. The libraries of Silverymoon were my last hope. Unfortunately, our caravan was apparently attacked on the road. The next thing I remember is waking up chained to Balasar…and I don't think he was part of the caravan."

"A subterranean library, huh? Maybe it's here in the Underdark!" Zelyra proposed.

Kazimir shrugged. "Could be." He scrounged around in his satchel for the Stonespeaker Crystal. The wizard stared at it, contemplating its purpose for a long while, before saying, "I have a gut feeling that my visions are somehow connected to this. But I can't say how!"

"It's possible. Hgraam was very insistent that you take it," the druid mused.

The conversation stalled so the pair could focus on completing their task. The potion had simmered for four hours, and all the ingredients were precisely measured and put in at the correct times. All they had left to do was bottle it. Kazimir helped with this, much to the druid's relief. Getting all the cauldron's contents into such a tiny vial could be tricky with only two hands in an uncontrolled environment.

Once the potion was stoppered, Zelyra looked down at the vial of swirling red liquid for a moment before sliding it across the table. "It's yours," she said to Kazimir's confused look.

"But—"

"I insist. You earned it."

After taking a moment to stare at the vial in turn, Kazimir relented. He tucked the healing potion safely away in his satchel. The pair drained the last of their tankards and retired to their separate rooms shortly after. It was time to put a long day behind them.

[1] Totally un-DND related, but the phrase "a problem for later" is a joke our management team uses at work when we've had a long day, and a problem arises at the end of our shift that we don't want to deal with. Usually, we say, "this is tomorrow [self-insert name's] problem." So, I giggled as I typed this line.

[2] In our original gameplay, we found Balasar on our second day in Gracklstugh. Fraeya, Fargas, Sarith, Buppido, and Hemeth were arrested after the attempted assassination of Werz Saltbaron. Kazimir, Zelyra, Derendil, Nine, and Eldeth saw Balasar in the fighting pits while they were on their way to Overlook Hold (without a Stoneguard escort…Vanum just told them their companions had been arrested), and they rescued him then. But I wanted to drag out the disappearance for a bit longer. Not only to make it more suspenseful but because Balasar's character essentially turned into an NPC after his player moved away. He Skyped in for the first few sessions, but the time zone difference made it hard for him to stay logged on for more than an hour or two. Eventually, he just stopped playing altogether. :( After the conclusion of the Gracklstugh arc, his character parted ways with the party. So, to still give the character some weight…I have plans…

According to my session notes, after rescuing Balasar, we returned to the Lair to sleep (and drink) and essentially left our captured companions to rot in a cell overnight. LOL. (Weren't we so nice…) They could view the 'infamous' fight from a window in their prison cell, though! I have a note that Fraeya was perched up in the window watching with the others squeezing in behind her :D

[3] Could an ancient artifact like Dawnbringer really be melted down in Gracklstugh's forges? I don't know…but Balasar isn't willing to risk it.

[4] This is a callback to a conversation at the beginning of chapter 18.

[5] I originally went with the idea that Kazimir's staff is made of ash because that's the kind of hardwood staff they used in my reference video. But then I remembered some passage in the Players Handbook about different types of wood meaning specific things (i.e., oak for strength, which is used for Zelyra's shield). But I couldn't find the passage, so I did a quick google search on ash. Wisdom, intelligence, and divination are its associated properties….and that couldn't be a more perfect pick for Kaz. I was blown away.

[6] I've revised the location of where we had this conversation. In gameplay, we accompanied Broot back to Cairngorm Caverns to give our report to Hgraam, but I needed a narrative place to work in the delayed Forge fight. This was apparently where I decided to shift it to when I made my Gracklstugh outline months ago. Thus, the party returned to the Lair instead. Most of the RP is original, but perhaps a tad more serious…because we initially pretended to be Yzma and Kronk from Emperor's New Groove while brewing the potion, LOL.

"Take it, Kronk. Feel the power." "Oh, I can feel it."

So, I scaled up the fight between Kaz and Balasar for narrative flair. Originally, they fought unarmed, and it…literally took two hours for Kaz to knock Balasar out because he has a *negative score* to strength. And Balasar was holding back to purposely lose. It was a long session. So, how to rework?

First, I thought it would be nice to reference the lessons Eldeth and Balasar offered to give Kaz in chapter 18. Then, using Dawnbringer as a communication device could give him advantage on his blocks. :D But really, it was that Hellish Rebuke that saved him. I rolled 23 points of fire damage, which is almost half Balasar's health. The player didn't use it in the game... Instead, he got caught casting blade ward, which made the crowd *very* angry, but I thought this was more fun.

This chapter turned out to be much more than I anticipated…and very Kazimir-centric…but I wanted to build up the fight once I started writing! Hope it was a fun read! We'll get to Blackskull next chapter… After a long rest, the party is officially LEVEL 6!