Previously…

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.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Preparing for War

1485 DR / Day 38

Ghohlbrorn's Lair, Gracklstugh

"Here we are,

Different paths led us here,

Now we stand,

Happily drunk, united as one, ready to fall.

You will rise,

Warriors of rock, sweet children of mine.

Allfather's best,

Protected by faith, we're an army ready to fall.

Together we stand, together we fall,

When we do die, we meet in the hall,

The eternal feast goes on,

Warriors unite, we will stand up and fight,

See the flagons fly in Valhalla!

If we all die, we will feast on a high.

For the mead is flowing in Valhalla!"

Those were the lyrics exuberantly sung in Ghohlbrorn's Lair that afternoon. One drink had turned into two, quickly becoming three and then four. Lizva kept them coming. The four companions soon lost count of how much they'd consumed and how much time had passed. Then when Fargas offhandedly asked Zelyra if she knew any tavern ditties, the half-elf shared the 'mead-song' taught to her and Arlathan by the half-giant, Krom. The barbarian had periodically chanted those verses and many others throughout their various battles against the cultists of the Gol'Goroth. The song quickly became a favorite of Arlathan's—it mentioned mead, after all. [1]

The adventure in Goldleaf felt like an entire lifetime ago. Zelyra had been trapped in the Underdark for nearly four tendays now. And yet, the druid could admit that time spent was not all bad…

Fargas learned the lyrics in no time. The halfling currently stood on a table, tankard raised in the air, as he and a red-faced Zelyra led the entire common room in a rousing sing-along. Kazimir and Derendil pounded on the table for background accompaniment. Various non-duergar patrons who had come in to drown their sorrows or were looking to relax after a long day added a chorus. Even the stern-faced barkeep, Lizva, tapped a toe in time with the beat. This was the liveliest the Lair had been in some time, and as she was making a killing from the ale sales, the duergar was not about to stop the chaos.

"What's Valhalla?!" a random svirfneblin called out.

But in their revelry, Zelyra and Fargas did not hear the question.

"Show no fear (warriors)

We must fight 'til the end (brave and free)

Glorious in battle (warriors)

Challenging death (brave and free)."

It was an extremely confusing scene for the other half of the party to walk into. Specifically, the half that had just spent several hours in the temple of Laduguer with Grinta and Thangus Ironhead after interfering in an assassination attempt against the latter. Fraeya had been fatally wounded in the crossfire. But the rogue still drew breath thanks to Thangus Ironhead's gratitude and mercy.

The cleric of Laduguer had managed to heal much of the damage wrought by the assassin's blade but warned that it could be a day or two before Fraeya regained full use of her voice. Due to the stitches that now lined her throat, the drow could only speak in a whisper, and it was painful to do so. So, for the time being, Sarith was Fraeya's voice. The rogue would telepathically communicate anything she wished to say via sending stone for the warrior to repeat aloud. Sarith was not thrilled about it but recognized it was the best solution given the circumstances. [2]

Fraeya put on a strong front during their walk through the Blade Bazaar. But as soon as the group descended from the public eye and into the Lair, the façade dropped. The rogue lethargically draped an arm around Sarith's shoulder for support. The warrior was stunned by the action—after all, how often did a female drow show weakness in front of a lesser male—but did his duty to help her along. Balasar, Eldeth, and Nine were also fighting their own bouts of exhaustion and irritation. And now, after their horrible ordeal, to walk into the Lair and find the others reveling…and drinking! They were none too pleased.

"What's going on here?" Eldeth cried out.

Fargas twirled around on the table to face the shield dwarf, and in the process, ale sloshed onto Kazimir's new cloak. The tiefling tossed the contents of his own mug onto the halfling in retaliation, but Fargas merely laughed and said, "We're having a party!"

"Yer having a party?" Eldeth echoed.

Fargas nodded.

"Yer lot was having a party…" the shield dwarf growled. "While the rest of us were stopping another assassination! Fraeya nearly died!"

Nine cringed at the reminder. It hurt just as much as Eldeth's original punch to the gut had.

"Fraeya nearly died?!" Zelyra exclaimed.

"That's what I said," Eldeth replied testily.

The druid hurried to rise from her seat and check on the injured drow for herself but, in her inebriated state, misjudged the clearance of the bench and went toppling over to the floor. Derendil was kind enough to help the half-elf back to her feet. Meanwhile, the entirety of the Lair had fallen silent and was eagerly watching the argument play out between the strange array of companions.

"Perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere else," the prince said while eyeing the other patrons. He was the most clearheaded of the four revelers, likely due to his large size.

"Tell them to meet in our room. Blackskull delivered our incentive this morning," Fraeya told Sarith. "And tell Zelyra not to fuss over me. I'm fine."

"Fraeya wants to meet in our room. We have coin to disperse," the drow warrior quietly relayed to the group.

"And…" the rogue pressed.

"You're not fine," Sarith said bluntly.

"Yes, I am."

"Then why are you leaning on me?"

In her sluggish state, Fraeya could not come up with a witty response.

No one objected to meeting up in Fraeya and Sarith's lodgings. And so, Prince Derendil paid Lizva for their drinks and subtly inquired about procuring an empty room while Fargas, Kazimir, and Zelyra trailed after their sober companions with Rumpadump and Stool. By the time the group had fully assembled in the drow elves' quarters, Fargas, Kazimir, and Zelyra were beginning to come down from their high and feel more like themselves—enough to recognize the severity of Fraeya's injury, at least.

While the others started divvying out the coin that Blackskull had delivered that morning, Zelyra examined the drow's wound. "Was the blade poisoned?" she asked after a moment of study.

"It was," Sarith confirmed. "The cleric that Clan Ironhead introduced us to was able to draw most of it out."

"Most? Not all?"

The drow warrior shrugged. And when the pair looked to Fraeya, she shrugged as well. They did not know. But the rogue's woozy behavior at present was a pretty good indicator. Zelyra sighed and pressed her fingers to the wound while muttering a few words in Druidic. The gash began to glow a sickly green, indicating that poison was still present despite the cleric's work.

"You would have thought a priest would be more thorough," the druid grumbled.

"The duergar only care about efficiency. They are hardy folk," Sarith said.

"Are you insinuating that I'm not hardy?" Fraeya demanded.

"That attack should have killed you," the warrior replied sternly.

The rogue smiled smugly. "Why, Sarith, you almost sound like you care…"

Sarith's lips pressed into a fine line and did not answer one way or the other.

Oblivious to the telepathic communication of the drow, Zelyra dug around in her Bag of Holding for a small jar of aloe-scented ointment that Kazimir had found in Narrack's hideout. The wizard had since identified the cream as a neutralizer for poison called Keoghtom's Ointment and figured it was best kept in a healer's hands. He was right.

Fraeya squirmed when Zelyra rubbed the cream onto her throat. Not because it hurt but because it was cold to the touch and tingled. But even after a few minutes of it absorbing into her skin, the drow felt her breath come easier. And as she continued the inhale the strong aloe scent, the haze muddling her thoughts began to clear. [3]

"I would still advise that you wait until morning to test your voice," Zelyra cautioned. "You don't want to stretch those stitches too early."

Fraeya nodded and told Sarith, "Tell her I said thank you."

The warrior raised a single eyebrow but, after a moment, begrudgingly translated, "Fraeya extends her gratitude."

"You're welcome," Zelyra said with a bright smile.

With that settled, the companions began the long process of swapping information. While the first group might have had an easier time garnering the support of Clan Thrazgad because the party had previously located the clan's stolen acid-resistant ore in the Whorlstone Tunnels, the second group's actions had reaped a blood debt from Clan Ironhead. Before leaving the temple of Laduguer, Grinta and Thangus Ironhead had vowed to support a vote for war at Blackskull's council. In conclusion, the companions had been successful on both fronts. Captain Blackskull would be pleased.

The conversation then switched to a lighter topic.

"Ask Kazimir where he got the cloak," Fraeya told Sarith.

The warrior rolled his eyes. He sensed this way of communication was going to get old—fast. "Fraeya wishes to know where you got your cloak," Sarith said to the wizard.

"Oh? This thing?" Kazimir grinned mischievously. "Made friends with a gnome tailor named Gnaddne. Only paid three platinum for it! But it's enchanted to make me a little harder to hit in a fight."

"What he means is that he tricked an old woman into selling it for three platinum," Zelyra corrected bitterly. Then to the wizard, she said, "And now that you have an additional 500 gold in your pocket, you can go back and pay Gnaddne what you really owe her."

Kazimir shook his head. "No way!"

"Why is it that the mage always manages to create a spectacle whenever he's away from the rest of us?"

Unbeknownst to Fraeya, her unwilling translator opted to repeat the comment aloud.

"Hey! The last time we split up, I won Balasar's freedom! I can't help it if I find good fortune, but you always find yourself facing an assassin," Kazimir replied. He wiggled his eyebrows and added, "Tymora must just have her eye on me."

This earned eye rolls and chuckles from most of the wizard's companions but not the drow.

"You weren't supposed to repeat that," Fraeya hissed to Sarith as the wizard ranted.

Sarith shot her a false smile, the kind that drow gave one another, and said, "The way I see it, you're at my mercy." They were bold words for a male drow. Bold words, indeed. And as the two conversations happened simultaneously, when Fraeya's upper lip curled into a snarl, it was unclear whether it was meant for Kazimir or Sarith.

"So not only did yer lot have a party, ye went shopping as well?" Eldeth asked.

Fargas, Kazimir, Zelyra, and Derendil glanced at each other sheepishly.

"It just…sort of just happened," Fargas said with a guilty grin.

"I wanted to visit a tailor," Derendil admitted.

"To be fair, I got this from Clan Thrazgad," Zelyra added while gesturing to her new fire-resistant armor.

Eldeth shook her head. "I should have stuck with yer lot," she muttered.

As there was nothing else of importance to discuss, the group broke up shortly after to return to their own rooms for a well-deserved rest. But as they filed out of the drow elves' quarters and into the hall, Derendil tapped Balasar on the shoulder and gestured for the dragonborn to wait. Balasar let the others go on ahead. He already suspected what the prince wanted.

"If you still feel up to giving me lessons, I secured a practice space for us," the prince whispered. "I paid a little extra, but Lizva promised to remove all the furnishings."

Balasar grinned. Though he was exhausted from the earlier combat against the assassins, he was not one to turn down a friend in need. He could push through. The dragonborn sensed this was something extremely important to Derendil.

"Lead the way, prince. I hope you're ready for this."

"I think I have to be."

Balasar stopped short. He had meant the comment in jest, but Derendil's response sounded portentous. "What makes you say that?" the dragonborn asked.

The prince shook his head. "I cannot say. A dreadful feeling, perhaps?"

Something about those words sparked a flash of memory for the dragonborn. When Balasar first took up Dawnbringer in the Tomb of Khaem, she had imparted a bit of foresight to him. Tendays later, the vision was fuzzy, but he remembered enough…

"Well, let's hope it is only nerves," Balasar said with a false smile.

Dawnbringer remained unusually silent throughout the exchange.

. . .

1485 DR / Day 39

The following day turned out to be excessively long for the companions as they were forced to sit through Captain Blackskull's council of war. Lizva's assistant, Vanum, had gone door to door that morning to wake the party at the captain's request. After partaking in a quick breakfast, the young duergar revealed that he was to lead the group to Clan Thrazgad's stronghold in Laduguer's Furrow, where the meeting of clans was set to be held. Additionally, Blackskull requested the group travel in secrecy. And so, the adventurers donned their hoods, and Zelyra magically cloaked their steps as they slunk down a maze of alleyways known to Vanum and avoided crowds at all costs.

The meeting itself went precisely how the companions expected it to. It was a semi-private affair. Vanum did not stick around. The only people present were Captain Blackskull, Grinta Ironhead, Amber Thrazgad, the nine adventurers, and their myconid companions. As soon as Grinta and Amber were shown the overwhelming evidence found in the Whorlstone Tunnels, both duergar agreed that it was best to strike the Council of Savants before they had a chance to bring further ruin to the city. Moreover, the clans' resolute votes for war would sway others to enter the fold—which was imperative.

Captain Blackskull had initially claimed they would fight a war on two fronts. But it was more probable that there would be three. First was the main army that would march into the West Cleff and face off against the Council of Savants. Second was the secret force that would infiltrate the castle. And then, a third reserve would be needed within the city to deter any derro responding from the East Cleff and the duergar clans that might rebel against the coup.

The Stoneguard was made up of 500 duergar. Errde's clan, Clan Blackskull, bolstered 750 members, Clan Ironhead was 550 strong, and Clan Thrazgad claimed another 450, but not every member of those clans was a warrior. There were many children and elderly sprinkled within their ranks who would not be called to fight. Meanwhile, the West and East Cleff districts housed over 2000 derro in addition to the Council of Savants. Going against the Council meant going against all the derro. More duergar fighters would be needed to take on an endeavor of that scale. But these negotiations between clans would need to be done in such a way as to prevent the Deepking from catching word that Captain Blackskull was preparing for war without his consent.

That being said, the Deepking was a complicated matter of its own. Upon seeing the hitlist, Amber and Grinta agreed that Hogar Steelshadow V needed to be evaluated. But they voiced several concerns. Any other allies would need to be selected with care. Many of the clans in Gracklstugh were loyalists. They would not go to war without the word of their king. And even if they were shown the hitlist—definitive proof of the Deepking's madness—most would still claim neutrality, as the stone giants did. Others might go running to the castle and unravel the entire coup. Thus, Amber and Grinta urged caution and secrecy. The plot to infiltrate the Hold of the Deepking should not leave the current room.

"Whatever you plan to do once you are inside the castle must be done quickly and quietly," Amber told the companions. It was the same warning that Hgraam had given them. The duergar continued, "But there is a chance for you to successfully pull this off. The distraction of a battle in the West Cleff may very well keep the others blind to your movements in the palace."

Fargas surveyed his companions, and when he mainly received blank looks in return, he muttered, "I don't think we really have a plan, per se…."

"What my esteemed friend here means is that we believe this will be a 'wing it' scenario based on what we observe inside," Kazimir clarified when Amber and Grinta's brows rose at the halfling's unconfident tone. Of course, it was still a wishy-washy statement in the grand scheme of things, but the tiefling's charm helped smooth over any lingering doubt.

"Yes—what he said. We're experts at 'winging it' by now," Fargas quipped.

Captain Blackskull drew her hand across her forehead and prayed she was not misplacing her faith and confidence. But Amber sniggered, and Grinta folded her arms across her chest. Otherwise, the de-facto leader of Clan Ironhead's face was unreadable.

The meeting concluded shortly after. Captain Blackskull, Amber Thrazgad, and Grinta Ironhead would take the next day or so to prepare their troops and quietly garner the support of other clans. It was not much time to build an army, but their attack needed to be swift. Even with Narrack's death, the Council of Savants could still enact their deranged plan to summon Demogorgon anytime. If they managed to bring the Prince of Demons to the City of Blades, the duergar would have a far bigger problem than a derro rebellion and a corrupt monarch.

While the duergar leaders went about their quiet political work, the adventurers spent the rest of the afternoon lying low in Ghohlbrorn's Lair while awaiting further instruction. Prince Derendil and Balasar took to their makeshift practice room. This time, they were joined by Eldeth, who caught the pair sneaking off and demanded to be let in the loop. Derendil was mortified by the forced inclusion at first. But by the end of the rigorous training session, he could rightly admit that the shield dwarf's additional insight was helpful.

The others spent their time in the common room. Fargas detailed notes of their journey in a small leather-bound book. Nine, Fraeya, and Sarith passed the hours by quietly sipping cups of steaming hot tea while Kazimir assisted Zelyra in brewing two additional health potions. Between the wizard's aid and occasional help from Nine, the druid produced the two potions in half the time it usually would have taken her. After careful consideration, Zelyra elected to give them to Fraeya and Fargas. The rogues were light on their feet and could get the potions to a downed party member faster than anyone else.

Otherwise, time passed at a crawl. Every single one of the adventurers was on edge. And why wouldn't they be? Because when waiting for war, the minutes felt like hours, and hours could feel like years. It was not until the equivalent of midnight the following evening—notably, the escaped prisoners' fortieth day of travel together—that they heard from Captain Blackskull. It came in the form of Vanum quietly rousing the party from their night's rest so they could secretly meet with the captain at Overlake Hold. And so, the adventurers groggily rose, donned their gear, and made the short trip through the Darklake District to the imposing structure that was the Gracklstugh's court of law.

Captain Errde Blackskull stood at attention behind her desk as the party filed into her office. But unlike in times past when the duergar was put together, and an air of intimidation hung around her, this night, she appeared haggard and weary. Her hair was mused, and her uniform sloppy. It looked like the captain had not slept a wink since the meeting with Clans Thrazgad and Ironhead—which she had not.

Once the adventurers were lined up before her, Errde finally spoke.

"With the help of Clans Thrazgad and Ironhead, we have recruited fighters from Clans Saltbaron, Bukbukken, and Xornbane, all of which hold territory near the West Cleff district. Additionally, Clans Anvilthew and Coalhewer have agreed to support us. Anvilthew resides near the Hold of the Deepking and will be in a good position to put out resistance from the surrounding loyalists. Clan Coalhewer will hold perimeter against any derro who wish to attack from the East Cleff," Blackskull debriefed. She prattled on a while longer, explaining the clans' individual roles, their numbers, who would hold the perimeter in the West Cleff, etc. In short, nothing that would directly affect the adventurers, but it was useful knowledge to have, nonetheless.

"Now, for your role. There are two hundred guards stationed within the Hold of the Deepking—"

Kazimir audibly sputtered at the number.

The captain unfurled a piece of parchment roughly depicting the castle's layout and continued, "One hundred duergar are stationed within the Hold and serve as an honor guard for the Deepking. 50 invisible duergar patrol the perimeter, and 50 more are stationed within the turrets and battlements. Over half of these guards are Stoneguard under my command and will be your quiet allies. The others are Darkhafts, the Deepking's secret force of psionic warriors. You will recognize them by their black cloaks, whereas my Stoneguard wear blue. The Darkhafts can summon psychic weapons that pierce just as clean as steel. Do not underestimate them."

The adventurers certainly would not—because the Darkhafts sounded similar to the Empty Scabbard Killers. And they knew all too well the damage that could be wrought by the assassins' psionic blades.

"I will be present in disguise. My men will not break their cover until I give the word. Your task is to request an audience with the Deepking, without Shal, if possible, and evaluate him. I entrust you to do whatever is necessary based on what you observe…." Errde trailed off and let the insinuation hang ominously in the air. "Hogar Steelshadow V has been the Deepking for a long time. Never has he been defeated. Many have tried, and all have lost miserably. We have this one chance. If you believe Shal has corrupted him, you let me know immediately, and my personal guard and I will begin the assault on the outside. We are entirely dependent upon you."

Again, the adventurers stayed silent as the weight of their task settled over them.

"We make our move before the following rest cycle," the duergar concluded. "You will have the morning to gather any last-minute supplies. Then, when I call upon you, meet at Clan Ironhead's stronghold. I have arranged for a cleric of Laduguer to bless your party, as your task is the most crucial."

As Captain Blackskull recounted the plan, it became glaringly apparent to the adventurers that by the following evening, Gracklstugh would be a bloody battleground… Their hearts began to beat a little faster in anticipation.

"What about the egg?" Fraeya asked. Her voice was slightly scratchy from disuse, but the wound was healing quite well thanks to continued care from Zelyra.

"After the cleric's blessing, you will retrieve the egg from the Whorlstone Tunnels, disguise it using the scroll I gave you, and take it to the palace," Captain Blackskull said.

"But what if the Deepking refuses an audience?" Kazimir argued.

"He won't." The wizard opened his mouth to counter, but Blackskull swiftly cut him off. "Once the Deepking realizes you have the dragon egg, he will wish to speak with you. It is the very livelihood of the city," she said confidently.

"How are we to keep in contact with you?" Zelyra asked curiously.

Blackskull steepled her hands before her and said, "Well, I am under the impression that your party has acquired a pair of sending stones…."

"And?" Fraeya pressed.

The captain raised a single eyebrow and let the suggestion stand.

Fraeya sighed. She could not deny it was a good idea but did not wish to give her stone up. So, the rogue looked to Sarith and said, "Give her your stone."

"Why me?" was the warrior's irritated telepathic response.

"Because I want to keep mine," Fraeya said stubbornly.

A snarl passed through the paired stones, but Sarith stoically complied and handed his sending stone over to Captain Blackskull. The duergar dipped her head in thanks and said, "The paired stone should be in possession of your wizard. He and I will need to keep in contact throughout the infiltration."

Fraeya's jaw dropped. "Why him?" she demanded.

"Hey—why not me?" Kazimir countered.

Blackskull rolled her eyes. "I assume that your wizard will be the one to disguise the egg. The scroll that I have given you has a time limit. You will need to know when the spell is nearing its end and improvise if need be," the duergar said sensibly.

"That doesn't make any—"

"Do as the captain requests, Fraeya," Sarith said, cutting off the rogue's protest as he crossed his arms and cocked his head.

Fraeya glared daggers in her fellow drow's direction before reluctantly handing her sending stone to a smirking Kazimir. The tiefling briefly examined the magical object before saying, "This is pretty neat!" Fargas eagerly tugged on the wizard's arm. Since Werz Saltbaron gifted the party the pair of sending stones, they had never left Sarith and Fraeya's possession. But the others were plenty curious about them as well.

"Well, if there is nothing else to discuss, can we go back to sleep?" Balasar asked with a yawn. It was the equivalent of the wee hours of the morning, after all.

Captain Blackskull nodded. "I believe that is all for now," she said. "Unless anyone has further questions?"

No one did. The plan was decently straightforward. Much of the adventurers' role depended on what they discovered after speaking with the Deepking. And so, the party filed out of the captain's office one by one. Sarith was the last to depart. The warrior paused in the doorway and turned to face Errde.

"I requested an audience with one of your prisoners," he reminded the captain.

"And that request will be honored upon the conclusion of your task," Errde replied sternly.

Sarith turned on his heel and strode out the door without another word.

. . .

1485 DR / Day 41

The Blade Bazaar

In the morning, the adventurers headed to the Bazaar at Captain Blackskull's recommendation to gather last-minute supplies. The party chose to split, as they had separate interests, and would meet back up at Ghohlbrorn's Lair in a few hours. Kazimir, Zelyra, and Derendil went off searching for spell components and then planned to visit the temple of Laduguer. Fargas, Nine, Eldeth, and Balasar returned to Clan Ironhead's shop to have their weapons professionally sharpened. Nine also purchased another bundle of arrows—just in case. Sarith went off on his own. Or, at least, that was his intention. Spurred by curiosity, Fraeya elected to shadow her fellow drow. The warrior sensed he was being followed but did nothing to acknowledge the rogue.

As the two dark elves slunk through the streets, they passed an unassuming cart that, unbeknownst to them, four of their companions had visited days earlier. The red-haired forest gnome proprietor wearing a pair of thick, black-rimmed spectacles halted mid-conversation with his bald and beardless hill dwarf partner as the drow passed by. The gnome did a double take, blinked, cocked his head, and then abruptly scurried around the wagon without a word of explanation to his partner.

"Rava!" the forest gnome cried out in Common.

But the drow kept walking.

And so, the gnome chased after them and tried again. This time, much louder. "Rava! Rava Kzekarit! I know you hear me. Don't you walk away from me, old friend!" he said.

Sarith stopped dead in his tracks.

And so did Fraeya.

"What did you just say?" Sarith growled as he rounded on the gnome.

Justifiably, the forest gnome cowered under the crimson glare of a drow. And now that he had a better look at the dark elf's features, he realized that this was not, in fact, his friend. "I—I—my apologies. I made a mistake. You look like him…but you definitely aren't him," he sputtered.

The gnome tried to run away, but Sarith swiftly snagged the back of his tunic and held him in place. "You know Rava Kzekarit?" the warrior demanded with a hint of anxiousness. Fraeya noted it curiously from her position several paces back.

The poor gnome began to tremble. "No! No, I don't, sir drow," he lied.

Sarith abruptly released the back of the redhead's tunic, and the quivering creature all but fell to the ground. "You'd be right to mistake me for Rava…" the drow paused and took a pained breath before revealing, "He was my older brother."

The gnome relaxed, but his fear was replaced by confusion. "Why do you speak of him as if he's dead?" he asked.

Sarith blinked. "Because I assumed he was," the warrior replied bluntly.

The gnome slowly shook his head and gestured for Sarith—and Fraeya, by extension—to follow him back to his cart. The drow elves did. The forest gnome then introduced himself as Manitou. He and his hill dwarf partner, Brondiac, had recently come to Gracklstugh's Blade Bazaar looking to sell exotic coffees and teas of the surface world to Underdark clientele. As Manitou artfully poured the drow elves cups of something called a latte that was sweetened with honey and cream, Fraeya eyed the surface dweller curiously and asked, "So, what brought you to the Underdark?"

Manitou looked to Sarith and said, "His brother, actually."

"Is Rava in the city?" the warrior asked.

"No," Manitou replied with a shake of his head. "No, he was still on the surface last I saw him. Said he was never going back down…but I was curious about him and his people. Said he hailed from a place called Menzo—Menzobran—"

"Menzoberranzan," Fraeya corrected with a raised brow as she gestured for the gnome to explain further.

"Well, I grew up in a small village called Stumptown," Manitou began as the drow elves sipped their coffee. [4] "A few years ago, a lone beaten and bloodied dark elf came wandering in our midst in search of medicine. While we were wary, our people eventually took pity on him and nursed him back to health. That elf was named Rava Kzekarit, and during the short time he stayed with us, he became a very good friend."

Fraeya was baffled by the outlandish story. The drow elves of Menzoberranzan did not have friends. And the only time they traveled to the surface was for raids…

"Don't say that name," Sarith interrupted quietly as he rubbed at his temples. His head was starting to pound in a familiar and very unsettling way.

"Rava?" Manitou asked, thoroughly confused.

The warrior shook his head. "No. Kzekarit. It is a dead name. That House no longer exists," he growled.

Manitou held up his hands. "Sorry, I didn't know," he apologized.

Brondiac, who had been silent until this point, reached under the cart and retrieved an amphora-shaped dark bottle. He poured four tiny glasses of thick, purple liquid and passed them around. When Fraeya sniffed the substance curiously, the hill dwarf said, "It's port—a fermented dessert wine. This one's a sipper but quite good."

Against the dwarf's advice, Sarith downed the entire glass in one go. Fraeya was more cautious.

"Is it poisoned?" she asked.

Brondiac's dark brows drew together. "No?"

"Drow wines typically are," Fraeya replied as she lifted the small glass to her lips and took an experimental sip. It was thick and syrupy but quite good—just as Brondiac claimed. The rogue then cast a suspicious eye over the merchant pair and said, "I thought you two sold coffees and teas. Why do you have wine under there?"

Manitou wiggled his eyebrows and replied, "Sometimes we dabble after dark."

The colloquialism was lost upon the drow elves who knew not a sun.

"So, the fool made it to the surface," Sarith muttered as he continued to rub at his temples.

"Why would your brother go there?" Fraeya asked curiously.

For a moment, Sarith thought not to answer. But the calming haze of the port wine loosened his tongue—just like always. "House Kzekarit disbanded well over a century ago," he said with an emotionless stare.

Fraeya thought the better phrase was that the House had been exterminated but knew better than to correct him.

The warrior continued while choosing his words with care, "My brother and I were absorbed into a rival House. That…never sat well with Rava. He always had fanciful ideas that did not fit the mold of your standard drow. He was encouraged by a renegade's actions… One day, it became too much, and he decided to abandon his post. He asked me to go with him, but I refused, and that was the last that I ever saw him."

Manitou and Brondiac were quiet. Whether out of respect or confusion at the drow's evasive tale was hard to tell. Fraeya, however, knew there had to be damn well more to the story than the warrior alluded to but did not press. Everyone had their demons. And as she was learning, Sarith had many.

On a whim, the rogue quietly reached into a pocket of her leathers, removed the neck purse she had smuggled out of Velkynvelve so long ago, and dropped it onto Sarith's lap. It was a sign of truce, no more leverage. Then, in Drow Sign, because she was not ready to say the words aloud, her fingers traced the words, "I was there the morning after, and I understand your pain in a way I am not ready to share. But you were right. I'm not like the matrons. I aim to be better."

Sarith heard the words and thought then of Rava, how ecstatic a statement such as that would have made him. He thought of Jorlan and how his former brother-in-arms had also shared those views of a different lifestyle until Ilvara had sucked him in with her poison. I aim to be better. Fraeya was being as honest, blunt, and to the point as she always had been without giving herself away wholly. It was something Sarith could respect.

"Thank you," he said as he clutched the neck purse.

And that was all he said.

[1] DM/husband ran me (playing Zelyra), my long-distance best friend (playing Arlathan, the moon elf druid), and her husband (playing Krom, the half-giant barbarian) through a horror one-shot around the same time as our home campaign's Gracklstugh arc. Zelyra briefly referenced the adventure in Midwinter (blue goo, throwing up frogs, attack of the albino squirrels, and golden apples! LOL). In the end notes, I said that I was considering turning it into a short story that would conclude with the drow attack on Taras Aldar, Laucian's capture, and Zelyra's flight into the Underdark. Well, I went on a writing spiral last month and temporarily neglected The Grey Warriors…

The first five chapters of Zelyra Erenaeth: Origins are available to read on my profile.

* Midwinter has been taken down, as it will eventually be part of the Origins story.

The lyrics are borrowed from "Brothers Unite" by Brothers of Metal. This won't be everyone's cup of tea—especially if you don't like Viking power metal—but I warned ya'll a long time ago that I have a soft spot for Norse mythology, and the Emblas Saga album is full of it! I wrote the opening of this chapter over a month ago, which then somehow spiraled into Krom's character turning into a bardbarian in Zelyra Erenaeth: Origins…

[2] I may not be accurately describing Fraeya's wound care at all. I could have done some research, buuuut I'm pretty squeamish. So, I wasn't about to do a Google search. I'm playing it off like this: since this was a fatal wound, magic wouldn't be an end-all, cure-all. The superior potion of healing staunched her bleeding and partially closed the open wound. The cleric was needed to draw out the poison (some, not all) and provide traditional wound care (i.e., stitches). And then Zelyra used a dose of Keoghtom's Ointment to neutralize the rest of the poison. But if anyone has better knowledge and/or isn't afraid to look into this…I wouldn't be opposed ;)

[3] I imagine Keoghtom's Ointment is like Vick's salve for poison.

[4] Manitou was played by a dear friend who 'guest starred' for three or four sessions. I decided to sneak in his husband as an NPC as well ;) As you can tell, the character has a theme. (i.e., Stumptown is a brand of coffee.) IRL the player is a phenomenal barista who worked his butt off in various coffeehouses for years and now owns a charming little shop that we make a 40-minute trek to on weekends—because his coffee is that good.

Manitou was initially conceived as a bard spy working for Captain Blackskull. He was present for the council of war and accidentally told Blackskull and Amber Thrazgad that Thangus Ironhead had been killed in an assassination—which incited panic that our party had to quell. There were other shenanigans—one involving breakfast beer—but they were not relevant to the story's progression. I've worked hard to condense the Gracklstugh storyline as much as possible and decided to give the character a short cameo instead. This was one offshoot venture that I just could not imagine cutting out!

As a friendly reminder, Blackskull's incentive was this: potions of invisibility, a chest containing 4,500 gold pieces, and a scroll of illusion to disguise the dragon egg for transport. Each of the adventurers received a potion and 500GP. Kazimir will hold on to the scroll until it's ready to be used.

I chose to summarize Captain Blackskull's council. Otherwise, I would have just been repeating information about the evidence that you, as the reader, have read in multiple chapters now, and I really want to move this story along. Over a month has passed since I last posted, partially because I got stuck on the politics in this chapter. So I finally decided—screw it. Don't overanalyze the plan. Summarize it and just be done with it! Hope it flowed okay.

Next chapter: the infiltration of the Hold of the Deepking!

I'm so stoked to have finally gotten to this point. It has been a long time coming! As a small teaser…a certain guest player will make a reappearance… ;)