Previously…

The companions exchanged tentative glances. Once again, they wondered how much Captain Blackskull had already divulged to the head of Clan Thrazgad. Could they speak freely? Moreover, could they trust Amber?

Blackskull seemed to think so…

"For us to do that, we need to know precisely what the captain has shared with you already," Fargas countered.

"She told me that our missing ore was discovered in the hands of the Council of Savants and asked for representatives of the clan to be present at a council of war—I assume to take revenge against the derro," Amber said.

The halfling cringed. "Well, that's…half of it,"

"What more could there be?" the duergar exclaimed.

"More," Fargas replied. "A lot more."

Chapter Thirty-Four

Assassins Interrupted

1485 DR / Day 38

The Blade Bazaar, Gracklstugh

The four adventurers elected to give Amber Thrazgad a watered-down version of their exploration of the Whorlstone Tunnels. They would have to tell the tale again if Clan Thrazgad agreed to be present at the council of war, and it was better to let the physical evidence speak for itself. Amber listened to their wild claims with a surprisingly open ear—until the question of the Deepking's sanity came up…

The armorsmith closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "You dare to question the leadership of Hogar Steelshadow V?" she asked, her tone frustratingly ambiguous.

It was hard for the companions to know how to proceed. Were they about to damn themselves? Or was it better to throw caution to the wind and spearhead forward with the truth, regardless?

Kazimir settled for something neutral. "When was the last time the citizens of Gracklstugh saw their ruler?" he countered. "What has he done to prevent the murders ravaging your city? When was the last time he passed a law that benefitted his people rather than hurt them? Furthermore, what sane ruler would flippantly hand power over to a consort—one who is not even one of you, from what we've been told! It's the oldest trick of corruption in the book!" the tiefling exclaimed.

Amber did not respond to the allegations. Instead, she silently stared at each of the individuals standing before her, assessing them with her strange golden eyes.

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust the word of outsiders," Zelyra began. "But perhaps fresh eyes were needed to look at your city's problems from a non-biased perspective. Go to the meeting that Blackskull is arranging. You will have complete access to the evidence we collected, and then you can decide. But know this—your city will fall to ruin if the Council of Savant's plans succeed. You need a sane ruler who will act against them. If the Deepking refuses, then his power should go to someone with Gracklstugh's interests at heart."

"Is this individual Captain Blackskull?" Amber asked sternly.

Sensing that the situation could get out of hand, Fargas replied, "No. If the worst should happen, and the Deepking is found to be corrupt, Captain Blackskull intends to hand power over to the Council of Lairds."

Amber let out a dry laugh. "Well, that would be something unprecedented," she said. "Gracklstugh has always had a monarchy. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought it might turn into a republic."

"Technically, it would be an oligarchy, not a republic…" the halfling muttered.

Meanwhile, the others exchanged tentative glances. Was this Amber's way of saying that she approved of the plan? Her expression still gave nothing away.

"So…will you go?" Kazimir finally asked.

"You were right to approach me. My clan has a legitimate stake in this war—in more ways than one," the duergar said mysteriously. "I agree to be present at the council whenever Captain Blackskull arranges it."

"That is all that we ask," Prince Derendil said as he bowed diplomatically to the armorsmith. "I think that once you see the evidence for yourself, our claims will not sound as outlandish."

As with everyone else before her, Amber Thrazgad was startled to hear a quaggoth speak intelligently—never mind that he was following a tiefling, a half-elf, and a halfling around. It was rarer still to see one in a civilized setting without a drow master. But then again, Ingres had reported that two dark elves accompanied the party when she'd escorted them to Cairngorm Caverns. Captain Blackskull had also described a far larger group. It made Amber wonder…

"Where are the rest of your companions? Ingres said that there were more of you."

"The other half of our party went to speak with a representative of Clan Ironhead. We believe they might also have a reason to aid us," Kazimir replied.

The duergar cracked a slight smile. "You'd be right about that," she said. "I don't think getting them on your side will take much convincing."

"Why?" the wizard asked.

"Clan Ironhead's reputation has been damaged by Clan Steelshadow's monopolization of the smithing market. They can barely afford to feed themselves and have run out of means to pay their debts to the other clans! So, if you intend to dethrone Hogar, I reckon they'd be the first to support it out of sheer spite. Duergar don't often let go of grudges," Amber answered.

"Well, let's hope then. We need all the support we can get," Kazimir replied.

Sensing that all serious talk had ended, Amber picked up her hammer and resumed her work. The adventurers stood by awkwardly, wondering if that was the duergar's way of silently dismissing them. But just as Kazimir was about to make an excuse to see themselves out, Amber waved the hammer to vaguely gesture to her wares and said, "Well, don't make this a wasted trip! Have a look around. If you see anything you like, we may be able to work out a deal given the service you provided the clan."

And so, the adventurers did. While Kazimir had no need for physical armor, he followed Fargas and Derendil around as they pursued the store's wares. But the wizard quickly realized that the halfling and quaggoth were doing so out of politeness rather than actual interest. Fargas was satisfied with his leathers, which had been provided by his employer, and provided ample protection. Derendil had never worn armor and had no intention of changing that. Robes or plain adventuring wear were fine by him. And so, the only one who had an actual need for anything in the shop was Zelyra.

The males chose to amuse themselves by trying on various feathered helms while their female counterpart nervously approached Amber.

"I don't suppose Captain Blackskull mentioned a custom commission when you last saw her…?" Zelyra asked.

"Aye, she did," the duergar answered without looking up from her work.

The druid shuffled awkwardly. "Uhm, what do I need to do to acquire that, and how much would something like that cost?"

Amber replied, "Well, Captain Blackskull said your commission would need to be made of natural materials, and you were also the group's cleric."

"Healer, not cleric," the druid corrected.

The armorsmith sat down her hammer and rested both hands on the anvil as she contemplated. "Still…a healer should be well protected," she argued. "You need something stronger than leather. If I can't make you a suit of metal, we could always experiment. What about bone?"

"Bone?!" Zelyra exclaimed. She'd never heard of such a thing!

"A breastplate made out of the husk of an umber hulk, to be precise," the armorsmith said brightly, her golden eyes now wide with the prospect of forging something new.

But Zelyra chewed on her lip. "Have you ever made something like that before?" she asked tentatively. Then, realizing how rude that sounded, she rushed to say, "Not that I doubt the quality of your work! It's just…something like that would undoubtedly take time to complete. Captain Blackskull plans to strike swiftly and hard. And as you can see, I'm in dire need of a replacement before then." [1]

Amber deflated slightly but saw sense in the druid's objections. To design a proper breastplate made of bone from scratch would take a tenday of experimentation at least, and then another tenday to perfect. The armorsmith doubted that Blackskull would wait that long to make her move—regardless of whether Clans Thrazgad and Ironhead pledged to support her. Errde had always been a fiercely stubborn one.

And so, the armorsmith wracked her brain for something that might be tucked away in her stores that would benefit a healer or could be quickly modified at the very least… It came to her a moment later, and she abruptly rushed off without explanation.

Amber unlocked the door to a storage closet and rummaged through several boxes—inciting enough racket to distract Kazimir, Fargas, and Derendil from their entertainment with the helmets—before returning a short time later. She presented a plain wooden box to Zelyra, and when the druid opened it, her brows drew together when she realized it was a suit of black leather armor neatly folded on a bed of straw.

"But I thought you said a healer needs something stronger than leather?" Zelyra said. The suit reminded her of Fraeya's old armor, which was clearly drow-make. The rogue had traded them for sturdier leathers from the Stoneguard's armory.

Amber grinned smugly. "That is a rare piece—enchanted fire-resistant studded leather! I haven't found the right buyer yet, and I think it could suit you well." [2]

Intrigued, Zelyra tore the enchanted armor out of the box and held it up to examine it. It was comprised of two main pieces, a fitted top cuirass with composite shoulder guards and a skirt with flexible strips of hide to protect the hip and thigh region. Leg greaves and a set of bracers completed the set.

It was utilitarian enough that Amber would not have to modify it to fit the slender half-elf. All one had to do was pull on the straps of the chest piece to tighten it. Zelyra could walk out wearing new armor that very hour if she chose. And the pitch-black color came from the fact that the suit was primarily comprised of steeder hide. The armorsmith quickly pointed these two details out, hoping they might further sell the non-metal-wearing druid on studded leather.

"So, she would be essentially wearing a giant spider?" Fargas asked with a chuckle as he came up to inspect the enchanted armor himself. Kazimir and Derendil were not far behind. The halfling let out a low whistle as he saw Zelyra hold the skirt against her to judge its fit but, for once, refrained from making a racy comment that she would look quite fetching in all that leather. Instead, he said, "How's that for a big metaphorical middle finger to the drow!"

"My thought upon creation," Amber admitted with a sly grin.

As Zelyra first suspected, the armor was purposely designed to mock the flexible leathers that the dark elves often wore. They utilized other aspects of their patron goddess's prized beasts for their clothing and armor, particularly webbing, but as far as Amber knew, no Lolthite had ever dawned armor made from their hide.

"How much does it cost?" Zelyra asked, fearing the answer.

The armorsmith chewed on her lip. "Retail this suit would go for at least 1,500 gold," she admitted. Zelyra made a slight choking sound and prepared to toss the armor back into its box. But Amber was not finished. "But for you? 200 gold."

The druid shook her head, remembering how she'd chastised Kazimir just hours earlier for severely underpaying Gnaddne Tinmender for his magic cloak. If she accepted Amber's offer, she'd be no better. Besides, 200 gold pieces were nearly all she had to her name. Was it wise to flout all her coin on magic armor when standard would do?

"I can't in good conscience—"

But Amber smiled and cut Zelyra off before she could finish. "I'm only charging you for the materials. That generous discount is given as a gesture of thanks for recovering our stolen ore," she insisted.

"But you haven't even gotten it back yet," Zelyra said.

To which the duergar stubbornly countered, "No. But we know where it is, and because of you, we have hope of retrieving it. That is far more than we had before."

Fargas elbowed the conflicted druid and muttered, "Take the deal!"

"I agree. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Z!" Kazimir added with a teasing grin.

The duergar's brow furrowed. "What does that even mean?"

The tiefling waved it off as a surface metaphor instead of explaining.

Zelyra looked at Derendil, hoping that he would side with her, but the prince offered no more than a nonchalant shrug. It was her choice to make. The half-elf sighed and said, "I don't think it would be a wise purchase. 200 gold is nearly all I have, and I still need to resupply my healer and herbalism kits, pay Lizva my share of the next installment on our rooms, not to mention meals…" [3]

"150 gold then," Amber said cheekily.

Zelyra threw up her hands. "That's even worse!"

Her companions erupted into boisterous laughter, which Amber quickly joined in. "At least…she's giving you…the opportunity…to pay her," Fargas managed through peals of laughter.

Amber eventually sobered and, this time spoke to Zelyra's bleeding heart. "This is an opportunity that might not come again. If not for yourself, take this gift of protection for them," the armorsmith said, pointing to the druid's companions. "You're the healer. When they fall, it's your job to get them back up again."

Now that was an argument that Zelyra could not counter. "Fine," she grumbled, counting out 200 gold, Amber's initial price. But the duergar only took 150 coins and pushed the remaining 50 back to the half-elf.

Before Zelyra could protest, Amber sternly said, "I made the armor. Therefore, I determine what I think it's worth selling for. Given this exchange, I think you've proven where your loyalties lie—not selfishness, but with family, your clan, or in this sense, your companions. I have great respect for that."

The druid conceded and pushed the remaining coins back into her pouch.

They spent a little longer in the shop, primarily so that Amber could show Zelyra how to properly dawn her new armor and attune to its magical properties. The fire-resistant enchantment would not work right away. Zelyra would have to spend time with the armor—break it in—before the magic would activate. And it was good that the armorsmith shared this warning because Kazimir had privately considered throwing a little fire Zelyra's way to see if her armor would react like his fire-resistant skin…

When their business was complete, and the four companions stepped back out onto the streets of the Blade Bazaar, Fargas said, "Well, that was just about the loveliest duergar I've ever had the pleasure of interacting with. Do you think she's single?"

Kazimir and Derendil lost themselves to laughter while Zelyra fondly shook her head and lightly elbowed the witty halfling—which, due to their height difference, meant Fargas was struck in the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" he whined.

"Just trying to knock some sense into you," his companion replied with a smirk.

Fargas winked at the druid. "What lack of sense is there in wanting to entertain a lovely lady before we march to war?" he asked. The comment was meant to be a joke, but no one laughed. Instead, the reminder of what was to come caused the companions to sober.

"Well, we got what we came for and more," Kazimir said as he gestured to the shop behind them, his cloak, and finally, Zelyra's armor.

"I wonder how the others faired?" Derendil mused.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," the wizard replied. "Now…back to the Lair for a drink?"

The suggestion was met with a unanimous agreement.

. . .

The other half of the party faired far better than the first group—initially, at least. Fraeya and Sarith led a straight path through the Blade Bazaar. Nine, Eldeth, and Balasar trailed behind. They did not stop to peruse any tailor shops, nor were they waylaid by forest gnomes asking them to taste exotic teas and coffees. Instead, the companions found Clan Ironhead's stall within five minutes of splitting from the other group. The shop was clearly marked by a sign featuring an iron anvil, and it helped that they had been there once before.

Before they crossed the threshold, Fraeya grabbed Nine's shoulder and said, "Perhaps we should let Eldeth and Balasar do the talking. Duergar aren't fond of drow, and you're…not exactly a conversationalist."

"Fine by me," the ranger replied, unfazed by the rogue's slight.

But Sarith cracked just the slightest hint of a smirk, which was unseen by the others as he brought up the rear of the group.

As the five companions entered the shop, and a tiny brass bell rang overhead, they saw a youthful female taking careful inventory of the store's meager supply of arrows instead of a sad, elderly duergar. Otherwise, the shop was so silent and dark that one could have heard a pin drop. Those who had made purchases here noted that the space looked emptier than five days previous.

Balasar and Eldeth approached the duergar while Fraeya, Sarith, and Nine hung back near the door.

"If you're looking for weapons, we don't have much to offer besides ammunition," the duergar grumbled in Dwarvish without turning around.

"That's not what we came for," Eldeth replied, also in Dwarvish.

The duergar's eyes narrowed upon hearing the noticeable accent in Eldeth's voice. She turned to face the surface dwarf, and as her dark gaze swept over the rest of the group—two drow, a half-elf, and a dragonborn—a mocking sneer split her lips. The sight of the drow instantly put the duergar on edge, but it was even stranger that they allowed a surface dwarf to speak for them…

"Oh? What have you come for then?" the weaponsmith asked suspiciously.

"We need to speak with Thangus Ironhead," Eldeth replied.

"He's unavailable."

"Then can we speak to another ranking individual of Clan Ironhead?"

"For what purpose?"

Eldeth felt her patience quickly running out. Thankfully, Balasar intermediated before the shield dwarf's temper could flare. He placed a firm but calming hand on his companion's shoulder and addressed the weaponsmith.

"We are emissaries of Captain Errde Blackskull. She is arranging a meeting with certain members of the Council of Lairds to discuss problems within the city. Captain Blackskull felt that given the Deepking's blockade on your smithing orders, Clan Ironhead might be interested in attending," the dragonborn explained.

"Why would Captain Blackskull send people like you as her emissaries?" the duergar sneered.

Eldeth slapped a hand to her forehead. They were getting nowhere with this one.

But Balasar answered smoothly, despite not having been part of the initial quest. "We were hired by Captain Blackskull to exploit corruption in the city because we could go where your people cannot—derro territory," he said. "The Council of Savants and the derro have been allowed to spread unchecked. They worship a false god, Demogorgon, Prince of Demons, and we believe that they intend to unseat the powers of Gracklstugh and claim the city for him."

This time, the duergar found herself incapable of speech.

"What is it? What are they saying?" Fraeya hissed to Nine in Common.

"She doesn't trust us and is being very uncooperative," the half-elf replied bluntly.

The duergar broke from her stupor. "I resent that," she said, also in Common.

Nine said nothing. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave the duergar a look that silently conveyed, 'but am I wrong?'

"Forgive me for being wary in the face of two drow elves and their shield dwarf slave," the weaponsmith grumbled, her suspicious gaze still trained on Fraeya and Sarith. "Never mind a half-elf and a dragonborn! I find it hard to believe Captain Blackskull would work with any of you. In these parts, we only trust our own."

"They aren't slaves," Fraeya spat. Then, realizing the abnormality of such a statement coming from the mouth of a drow, she flippantly added, "We work together out of convenience and necessity, and we really have been sent by Captain Blackskull."

"Right…" the weaponsmith said, still distrustful.

And so, Fraeya flashed one of the badges that Blackskull had given them at the start of their quest.

"You could have stolen that," the duergar muttered.

"Oh, for the love of—believe whatever you want! Who we are doesn't matter. It's who we represent. If not the threat of Demogorgon, maybe this will get your attention," the rogue spat. "The Deepking has done nothing to stop the savants' plans. Nor has he done anything to curb the murders that ravage the city. In fact, we have proof that he—"

The drow's angry words were cut off by a loud crash from somewhere else in the building. The female duergar's gaze cut toward it suspiciously. "What are you planning?" she demanded. "If this is an ambush, I don't know what you intend to take! The Deepking's blockade has bled us dry!"

"That wasn't our doing," Fraeya said, drawing her shortbow instinctively. "We hold no ill will against you, and if you would stop being so damn stubborn, perhaps we could help your situation."

"I would rather die than accept charity from a drow," the duergar spat.

More sounds came from the back room, muffled but enough to set everyone on edge. Fraeya could have sworn she heard pleading—or sobbing—she couldn't tell which. The drow ignored the duergar's blatant insult and asked, "Are you here alone?"

"My father is taking inventory of the backroom," the weaponsmith admitted.

On pure instinct, Fraeya said, "Your father, what is his name?" She expected the duergar not to answer, but to her surprise…

"Thangus Ironhead."

THANGUS IRONHEAD—how dare he try to encroach on my family business? BOIL HIM! Boil him in oil and feed him to the roaches!

The rogue turned to her companions in alarm. "The hitlist!" she hissed. Fraeya could not say what drove the suspicion home, but if she was correct, they needed to act quickly.

"Hitlist? What hitlist?" the duergar cried.

"That's what Fraeya was trying to tell ye! We uncovered a hitlist while searching the tunnels," Eldeth said. "Captain Blackskull's name was on it…as was yer father's. It was signed by the Deepking."

The female duergar turned on her heel and sprinted towards the storage room. The five companions drew their weapons and rushed after her. What they found as they opened the door was a sad scene. The elderly duergar that had helped the companions during their first visit to the store was on his knees. Four hooded and cloaked individuals surrounded him, and blood pooled onto the ground from the vicious stab wound he'd taken to the chest. In fact, the sword had pierced clean through. The duergar now took shuddering breaths, and it was clear by his pallid face that his time on this plane was nearing an end.

Fraeya immediately released an arrow from her shortbow that struck one of the cloaked figures in the shoulder. But that was the only hit the companions could make before they found themselves clustered in the doorway and under the attack of return fire. The female duergar let out a terrified scream. Balasar quickly shoved the woman behind him, taking the bolt that would have almost certainly taken her life. Instead, it ricocheted off his plate armor and clattered harmlessly to the ground.

The dragonborn then charged forward, Dawnbringer held aloft and blazing—though not at any strength that would disadvantage his drow companions. Eldeth and Sarith followed with their battle-axe and twin short swords drawn, respectively. The three fighters each met an opponent head-on.

The assassins adapted quickly, switching from quick-release crossbows to curved glowing swords. The fourth figure bellowed a curse in Dwarvish, and his size grew to be twice that of what it had been before. They then flanked Balasar, whom they read as the biggest threat in the room.

"Don't let their swords pierce your skin," Sarith warned Eldeth and Balasar as he neatly parried an advancing attack. The warrior had been struck by the strange glowing weapon during their fight to protect Werz Saltbaron, and the resulting wound still gave him some trouble seven days later.

Meanwhile, Fraeya and Nine dove into opposite corners of the room and snuck in shots from their bows whenever they had clearance.

The melee portion of the fight was brutal and messy, as there was not much space to maneuver in the room. It was fifteen-by-fifteen feet at best. Balasar, Eldeth, and Sarith had their work cut out for them as they avoided random barrels and storage crates. Sometimes they could use those obstacles to their advantage—like when Eldeth headbutted her opponent into a pile of tools—but other times, it worked against them. A vicious strike from the enlarged duergar sent Balasar careening back into a cupboard. The contents within shook, then came the sound of breaking glass.

All the while, poor Thangus Ironhead was caught right in the middle of it all, bleeding out.

"You could help the old man, you know?" Fraeya shouted to her ranger companion, who had healing abilities. But Nine ignored her and nocked another arrow.

Fraeya grit her teeth. Thangus Ironhead was crucial to their negotiations with the clans. They needed him alive. And so, she did something really, really stupid. The drow stored her shortbow and dove recklessly into the fray. She did not have a health potion, but she had stabilized a stab wound once or twice—plus, she'd picked up a few tricks by watching Zelyra. The rogue vowed to do all she could for the wounded duergar.

Recognizing Fraeya's intent, Sarith, Balasar, and Eldeth attempted to move the melee fight to the edges of the room so that the rogue had room to work. Fraeya slid to her knees before Thangus, who was now huddled over, gurgling up blood. She swiftly applied pressure to the wound with the first piece of fabric she could reach—her coin purse.

The elderly duergar stared up at the drow as she worked, half in disbelief, half delusion. "T—thank you," he croaked.

Fraeya gave him a curt nod.

"Grinta? Where is Grinta?" the old man then asked.

Before the drow could answer, an invisible force yanked her back by the hair and forced her into a chokehold. She then felt cold steel pressed against her throat, and they were not gentle about it. The strange energy that wafted from the blade seemed to seep into her skin like poison. Fraeya struggled against her attacker's hold, but it was hard to fight against something you could not see. Even the weapon was invisible. Her eyes began to water as panic flooded through her.

"Lower your weapons! Or the drow dies!" the invisible attacker shouted.

"They have a knife to my throat," Fraeya gasped.

Balasar and Eldeth readily complied and disengaged from their opponents.

Sarith lowered his swords but was poised to strike by other means if the chance arose. He found himself strangely unnerved by the sight of Fraeya on her knees with an invisible assassin's blade pressed to her throat. He had always said that her reckless behavior would one day get her killed, but now to be faced with that very prospect…

The four visible assassins wisely fled the scene. They exited through the shop's back door and ran out onto the streets of the Blade Bazaar to live another day. The only enemy that remained in the cramped storage room was the invisible force that held a blade to Fraeya's throat. Nine nocked an arrow and trained it in the direction she thought they might be.

"I SAID, LOWER YOUR WEAPONS," the concealed speaker reiterated.

"Nine! Do as they say!" Balasar pleaded.

But Nine refused to stand down. Instead, confident of her aim, she fired. But the reckless attack met nothing but air.

The assassin, cloaked under their invisible shroud, smiled brutishly as the ranger's arrow passed just over their shoulder. "Have it your way. Just know, you did this…." they said, bringing their blade across Fraeya's throat.

With that action, the illusion faded. The invisible assassin was revealed to be none other than Elgrim—or rather, the husk of Elgrim—who was now forever doomed to be an illithid's puppet. He glared at the adventurers for a heartbeat before giving them a single warning, "Qualax is coming for you."

Elgrim let Fraeya's body slump forward and fall limp to the ground before fleeing the room. No one tried to stop him. They were too stunned to do anything but stare at their companion's still form.

Nine's face went white, and her longbow clattered to the ground.

Just know, you did this.

The ranger had heard those words before, whispered like poison in her ear, as she was encased in a spider's sticky web and left for dead.

The next few minutes were a blur for the companions. Sarith reached Fraeya first and gathered her up in his arms. Her head lolled onto the warrior's shoulder, but otherwise, she did not react—did not move. And as her long, stark white hair slowly turned pinkish from the blood spilling from her wound, Sarith steeled himself for the inevitable. But then Balasar appeared over them and pressed his hands to Fraeya's throat to search for a pulse and staunch the blood flow as he had done a thousand times for the victims of Bunrick Burakrinwurn's twisted games.

Meanwhile, Eldeth angrily marched up to Nine and lofted a heavy punch at the ranger's stomach. Nine did not even attempt to block the attack.

"I'm sorry," the half-elf wheezed as she doubled over.

"Sorry's not good enough. If the drow still breathes, let's hope ye've learned enough from Zelyra that ye can fix what ye've done!" the shield dwarf spat. "Learn to set aside yer pride. The rest of us stood down. Why didn't ye?"

Eldeth left Nine basking in shame and hurried over to Thangus Ironhead, who also needed tending to. The elderly duergar tried to speak as the shield dwarf reached him but could not find his voice. So, instead, he pointed a shaking hand to a nearby cupboard.

"Is there something in that chest that will help ye?" Eldeth asked in Dwarvish.

Despite the surface dwarf's thick accent, Thangus understood. He nodded.

"Our reserves are hidden in there," another voice answered.

Eldeth looked up and found that the young female duergar had finally returned to the room. All earlier hostility had faded from her face. Instead, she gazed upon Eldeth and her companions with forced respect.

The woman crossed the space and reached for a tiny box pushed into the farthest corner of the top shelf. She lifted the lid and peered inside, only to whence when she saw only one bottle remained. The others had shattered when Balasar fell against the cabinet, and their contents now soaked the box. No matter how potent, a single potion was not enough to help her father and the self-sacrificing drow. A choice would have to be made, but it was not her place.

Grinta Ironhead took the box to her father's side and said, "Father, these people are emissaries of Captain Blackskull. She calls a council of war to fight against the uprising derro and, I suspect, our king. Hogar's corruption goes beyond his blockade against us. The drow tried to warn me that a hitlist had been found and that your name was on it, but I was too stubborn—"

"Ye had every reason to doubt us. I would have if it were me in yer shoes," Eldeth interrupted.

"Do you plan to find a way to end these senseless murders?" Grinta asked.

Eldeth grimaced. "Our intention is to assess the Deepking's mental state. No one, not even the Stonespeakers of Cairngorm Cavern, has heard directly from him in tendays. If he has been corrupted by the Council of Savants, or his advisor, Shal, we will do all in our power to get through to him. But if not…" she let the implication hang in the air. "The people of Gracklstugh deserve better."

The duergar nodded and pushed the box containing the reserve's last vial, a potion of superior healing, toward her father. As head of the clan, this was his choice to make. "Father, there's only one left," she said in Undercommon rather than Dwarvish, hoping Eldeth would not understand.

Thangus closed his eyes and pushed the box away from him.

"You wish to help the drow?" Grinta asked incredulously.

Thangus is finally found his voice. "She…tried to…help me. I've never known…a drow…to sacrifice…anything…" he wheezed. "Go…to the…council. Avenge our clan."

Grinta gave a curt nod and hurried off with the box.

Eldeth remained at the elderly duergar's side as his breaths became more labored. Finally, his eyes shut and did not reopen. The shield dwarf assumed his death was imminent. She never would have thought she would stand by, holding the hand of a duergar as they crossed over…

But then, a shuffle of movement alerted to another's arrival.

Nine dropped to her knees and, without a word, pressed both hands to the dying duergar's chest. Eldeth watched, transfixed, as the half-elf's healing magic took shape. A warm glow surrounded them, and beautiful, blue-petalled borage blossomed on Thangus's chest. The flowers blackened and turned to ash as they absorbed the poison left by the assassin's blade, but it was enough. Between Fraeya's valiant effort to stabilize him and Nine's healing magic, Thangus took a deep breath, and his dark eyes reopened with a start.

Eldeth smiled and wordlessly patted Nine on the back. Twice now, the companions had prevented the Empty Scabbard Killers from taking an innocent victim.

They had saved the head of Clan Ironhead.

Now, if they could only save one of their own…

. . .

"I feel a pulse!"

. . .

Fraeya felt disconnected from space and time, yet she faintly recognized Balasar's rumbling voice. She felt strong arms wrapped around her, and through the black spots clouding her vision, she thought she saw Sarith's ashen face. He was bowed over her in the strangest of ways—as if his entire being was intent on protecting her from further harm. The rogue was semi-conscious, and yet, she could not move, could not speak. The pain was so debilitating…

Balasar pressed his hands against her throat to staunch the blood flow, but that was not the actual threat. It was her lack of air and the backflow of blood that now threatened to fill her lungs.

Both Sarith and Balasar tried to speak to her. Fraeya even sensed several telepathic messages coming through her sending stone. But in her catatonic state, she could not make sense of them.

It was as if she was floating.

Part of reality, and yet not.

And then she was forcefully drug back into it as a female duergar tilted back her head and poured the contents of a flask into her mouth. Her chest felt warm, and as the liquid drained down her throat, her breath came easier. But she was tired. Oh, so tired.

. . .

"She needs rest," Grinta Ironhead told a bewildered Balasar and Sarith as they watched the torn flesh at Fraeya's throat stitch back together. "And a real healer. I can fetch one from the nearby temple," the duergar added.

"You saved her," the warrior muttered.

"Because she gave herself to save my father. Selflessness is a rare quality amongst your people," Grinta said gruffly as she stood and wiped her bloody hands on her apron. "You only look out for yourselves. You care nothing of family."

Sarith blinked as he stared down at Fraeya's huddled body, barely breathing but alive, thanks to Clan Ironhead's mercy. But the duergar was right. It was the indoctrination of the drow to look after oneself. How would this situation have panned out if they had been amongst their own people? Fraeya and Thangus would both be dead. No drow would have taken pity on them—not even Sarith himself. He'd always considered Fraeya to be weak for showing emotion, for slowly adopting the mannerisms of the surface dwellers they traveled amongst. But perhaps it was he who was the real coward.

Grinta Ironhead could have chosen to save the head of her clan—her father—but instead, they chose the way of honor. The drow warrior might have been at a loss over that choice, but as Eldeth watched from the sidelines, she could not help but think that perhaps her kin, and those who dwelled below, were not so different after all…

[1] Don't worry. We haven't heard the last of that umber hulk breastplate…. :D

[2] One of the magic items listed in Appendix B of the Out of the Abyss module is a piwafwi of fire resistance (aka the drow equivalent of a cloak of elvenkind). DM/husband may have used that as the inspiration for Zelyra's studded leather.

[3] In the previous chapter, I forgot to have Fraeya *tell* the others that Blackskull delivered their 4,500GP advance. I suppose one could just assume a conversation occurred before the arachnidumpling fiasco… But, in our original playthrough, we were not incentivized to investigate the Deepking's madness. We were instead given a considerable sum after the fact. And so, when Zelyra got her enchanted armor in our game, it cost nearly every bit of coin she had. I wanted to keep that pressure on the character. Because I didn't realize it then, but it was the best decision I could have ever made…

Shorter chapter this time, but a lot to unpack. Initially, the entire party was together when they met with Grinta and Thangus Ironhead. Thus, when the assassination attempt happened and Fraeya *literally almost died* because our stubborn ranger wouldn't put down her freaking longbow, Zelyra was there to throw a couple third-level cure wounds her way AND help Thangus. But because I'm trying to condense the narrative, I decided to split the party. I couldn't rule out Nine's moment of shame and instead used it to drive home an opportunity for realization/growth that…unfortunately…the player chose to ignore.