The Cult of the Gol'Goroth
Chapter Seven
The Gol'Goroth
15 Elient (The Fading) 1484 DR / Day 6
The Lair of the Gol'Goroth, northeastern Neverwinter Wood
The eerie silence of the chamber was broken only by the occasional water drip and the distant croaking of frogs. The disturbing laboratory, with its aquarium, vials of dark-blue slime, and scattered books, stood as evidence of the cult's nefarious activities. A great many of those cultists lay dead on the stone floor while the bodies of the two monstrous frogs floated idly in the murky water of the center pool, their writhing tentacles now limp and unmoving. The cloying scent of decay and the metallic tang of blood hung heavily in the air. The four companions stood amidst all this carnage, their breaths coming in heavy, ragged gasps as they took stock of their situation.
Varan leaned against the wall, his foot now bandaged and the searing pain at the puncture site beginning to subside thanks to Zelyra and Arlathan's healing magic. But now that the battle was over and the adrenaline had worn off, much weighed on his mind. The ranger had meant what he said when he told Krom that he cared nothing for Goldleaf. But that did not mean that he was so careless about life. Many of the cultists were townsfolk, people that he recognized from youth—
Had they been terribly cruel to him and his mother? Yes.
Did they deserve death for that alone? No.
And did he deserve to be the one who gave it to them? Certainly not.
But the ranger was also a pragmatist. The safety of his companions was paramount, and then the safety of the rest of the town came next. Despite his misgivings with Goldleaf, those who remained did not deserve to be cloistered in their homes, afraid that people they had once trusted might drag them off into the forest, offer them to a mad god, and have their bodies cruelly experimented on or their minds' ravaged. In this case, death was truly the lesser of two evils. At least now they could know peace—or so the ranger hoped.
"We need to decide our next move," Varan eventually said, his voice steady but weary. "Do we press on or take a moment to rest?"
Krom was ready to continue. His warhammer, still stained with the blood of their enemies, rested heavily on his shoulder. "We can't afford to give the cult time to regroup," he said. "If we rest now, we might lose our element of surprise."
Arlathan nodded in agreement. "Krom's right. We took out many of them but still don't know their true number. For all we know, more could await us deeper in the lair."
Zelyra, however, was torn. The druid glanced at Varan, concern evident in her eyes. "But your wound," she began. "You need time to recover properly."
Varan shook his head. "I'll be fine," he insisted. "They're right. We still don't know Erstod's whereabouts. For all we know, he could have tipped them off to our coming. We can't risk giving them more time to prepare."
"I understand that, but as you all have pointed out, we have no idea what lies ahead. We need more information. If only we could have talked to the cultists first," the druid said with a shake of her head. "But no, you two had to go rushing in—"
Krom and Varan exchanged a bewildered look.
"You saw them! They would not have talked—" the ranger started irritably.
But Zelyra shrilly cut him off in turn. "We have no plan! And we can't fight effectively if we're all running on fumes."
Varan sighed, unable to argue with that logic. They had left the village of Goldleaf around midday. But inside the cave, it was impossible to tell time. A few short hours could have passed, or it could very well be the middle of the night. Either way, it was past the time they would've normally begun to bed down and take their supper. They could push through for many more hours, of course, but that came with the tradeoff of exhaustion.
Arlathan held up her hands. "Guys! The air is foul right now," she said.
"Tensions are raised when the air is foul—right," Krom replied offhandedly.
"Yes, but not the point I'm trying to make," the moon elf said. "Whatever our next move is, it must be made when the air is sweet. It's our best chance for success."
"The air's pretty foul right now," the half-giant observed.
"Right! So, we have some time to kill," Arlathan said. "Maybe another short rest?"
"Looking around the room wouldn't be the worst idea either," Zelyra said. "Might provide us with more information on the cult's ranks."
The companions exchanged glances, each weighing the risks and benefits of their various options. The chamber offered little comfort or safety, and the thought of facing a regrouped and potentially reinforced enemy was daunting. But as Zelyra argued, going forward without a plan and proper rest was just as much of a gamble.
"Fine. Let's compromise," Varan suggested, pushing himself off the wall. "Since the air is foul now, we take another short rest, just long enough to catch our breath and prepare for whatever's next. No more than an hour. Then we search the room and move out when the air is sweet."
"Rest first, then search?" Zelyra repeated with a raised brow.
"You were the one who was so concerned with my injury…" the ranger grumbled with an eye roll. The druid returned it with a knowing grin.
The four companions huddled together in a small, defensible alcove near the entrance and kept their weapons close at hand. After nibbling on a few rations and their supply of golden apples, Zelyra meditated, drawing on her inner reserves to replenish her magical energy. Arlathan prepared more healing herbs and checked their supply of potions, ensuring they were ready for any further injuries while Krom stood watch, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.
"Take your rest, elf," Krom said, sensing Varan's wary eyes on him.
"Krom—"
"I owe you," the barbarian interrupted.
The ranger fell silent but offered Krom a brief nod of thanks.
With the half-giant taking on sentry duty, Varan allowed himself a moment to doze. He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, and let the pain lingering in his foot fade into the background. The minutes passed far too quickly. Before long, it was time to continue. The ranger pushed himself to his feet, testing his weight on the injured foot. It was still painful but manageable. "Now—let's look around this room," he said.
Varan and Zelyra first approached the aquarium filled with frogs. The creatures were tiny but no less unsettling. Their dark, slimy bodies were marked with strange, glowing symbols that seemed to pulsate with dark energy. Otherwise, they looked no different than your average bullfrog. They did not react to the half-elves' presence.
"These frogs don't have tentacles," Varan observed curiously as he peered into the glass tank.
"Perhaps that's what the runes are for," Zelyra suggested. When the ranger asked for further explanation, she added, "The runes draw the Gol'Goroth's power to them; the cultists keep them here in the tank until the transformation is complete, and then they toss them in the pit with the others."
"The frog that popped out of Jeremiah's skull was tentacled," Varan replied. "And so was the one that Arlathan threw up. So, what makes these different?"
Zelyra grimaced. After a moment of thought, she said, "Because they both had a host to incubate in, whereas these frogs do not… They need a controlled environment."
"That's not normal for frog eggs, is it?" the ranger asked.
The druid frowned. "Well, yes and no. They need water, for sure, and heat—"
"—both of which can be found in a body—"
"They also need the right amount of light."
"But the Gol'Goroth's children don't need light…" Varan said slowly.
Zelyra cocked her head to the side as more pieces of the puzzle began to click in her thoughts. "No, they need the absence of it. They thrive in darkness!" she exclaimed, her green eyes now wide with excitement.
The druid brought her torch closer to the tank to test her theory. Just as she anticipated, even though these frogs were not fully transformed, they were still Gol'Goroth's children. They recoiled from the firelight, hopelessly hopping all over themselves to reach the farthest corner of the tank where the light could not touch them. A slight sound of surprise left the ranger's lips to see her speculation confirmed.
Zelyra grinned. "Mark my words, Varan. Light will be the Gol'Goroth's weakness!"
Meanwhile, Arlathan and Krom inspected the dark blue slime vials lined up on a rack against one of the cavern walls. The viscous substance shimmered slightly in the flickering light of their torches and had the same alluring scent that had struck them when they first encountered it. And yet, neither fell for the call this time. Arlathan uncorked one and sniffed the vial cautiously, her nose wrinkling at the pungent odor.
"Why would you sniff it?" Krom asked in bewilderment.
"To determine if it is poisoned," the druid replied matter-of-factly. "I couldn't sense anything before. My mind was too clouded."
The barbarian's eyes narrowed.
"I promise I'm not going to eat it again if that's what you're worried about."
"Well—"
"I threw up a frog. A live, wriggling little demon with eyeball-stealing tentacles because of this damn stuff," Arlathan said sharply. "I don't particularly care to relive the experience."
Krom backed down and held up his hands.
"Okay. Well, is it?"
"Poisoned? Most definitely. I just can't identify the type."
"Save it for later, then?" the barbarian suggested.
Arlathan tucked the vial away in her pack. "Zelyra has spent more time training under Master Naitha in the ways of medicine than I have," the moon elf said. "But for now, I think our best bet is to leave it alone. The environment here leaves even the strongest of us prone to lapses of judgement."
Krom's gaze fell to the floor.
"Yes, even the strongest of us," he repeated weakly.
Arlathan sighed. "We have all felt the weight of this place. At least you didn't eat the blue goo," she offered.
Krom smiled. "Yes, I suppose there's that."
"Let's keep looking," the druid proposed. Her eyes turned to the scattered books and papers on a nearby table. "Oh! Those look promising…"
The pair quickly gathered them and spread them on the table. Varan and Zelyra left the aquarium and joined them soon after. The pages were filled with disturbing drawings and cryptic symbols. Krom flipped through a particularly worn tome, its pages yellowed and stained with dark spots. Most of it was mad gibberish, but he could make out a few key phrases. "This one seems to detail their rituals," he said. "There are diagrams here that show a summoning process using the dark-blue slime."
Zelyra leaned in, her eyes narrowing as she examined the illustrations. "These symbols... It looks like they're a means to bind and control the spawn. The primordial ooze is a key component, acting as a conduit to transfer the Gol'Goroth's power similarly to its seed. But…I'm no mage. I can't be certain."
Arlathan found a smaller, more weathered journal. "Here is something more legible. It's a record of the cult's activities," she said, skimming the entries. "There are notes about the sacrifices, including dates and descriptions of each victim. According to this, they've been taking people from Goldleaf for months!"
"I thought Hal said the disappearances only started a few weeks ago?" Krom said.
"That's what he told us, yes. But not what he told the dwarves," Zelyra pointed out.
Varan picked up a stack of loose papers. "I found something else," he said, laying out a series of short letters. The others gathered around as he read them aloud. The contents only served to confirm their worst fears—
. . .
5, Flamerule 1484DR
Speaker Kythel,
I acknowledge your letter and the progress you have reported. The people remain oblivious to the true nature of our work. I have ensured that those chosen for testing are perceived as victims of unfortunate accidents or disappearances. However, there are growing suspicions. It is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the façade of innocence. I urge you to expedite our plans and provide any additional guidance to ensure our success.
I trust that the Gol'Goroth will honor its promise of power. My position here is becoming precarious, and I cannot afford any missteps. I expect your continued support and assurances.
In darkness and secrecy,
H.N.
.
17, Eleasis 1484DR
Speaker Kythel,
As per your request, I have ensured that more test subjects have been sent your way. The recent disappearances have raised more alarm, but I quelled most of the unrest. However, time is running short. With the population dwindling, we need fresh blood to sustain our efforts. Word has spread throughout the Sword Coast that the ancient dwarven city of Gauntlgrym has recently been reclaimed from the drow. Perhaps we should turn our attention there. We might hope to garner more resources without arousing suspicion in the chaos of their restructuring.
What news of the wizard Erstod? His influence is critical to our success, and I need assurances that he will be entirely under our sway soon. The risks I have taken demand swift results. Do not let the Gol'Goroth's promises be in vain. Expedite your efforts and ensure that our plans reach fruition. My patience, and that of the townspeople, is wearing thin.
In anticipation of power,
H.N.
.
4, Elient 1484DR
Speaker Kythel,
I have traveled to Gauntlgrym under the guise of seeking aid from the shield dwarves. As we suspected, the recently reclaimed city is bustling with activity and newcomers who will not be missed. This will provide a steady supply to meet the cult's demands. Please provide any additional guidance to ensure our success. I trust that the Gol'Goroth will soon grant me the power I have been promised.
In anticipation of power,
H.N.
. . .
Zelyra's hands flew to her mouth in horror.
"By the gods," the druid muttered into them. "This is… I can't even…"
"Damning proof against that sniveling rat Hal Neelow?" Krom finished for her. "Think about it. H.N.? Anyone with half a brain could figure that out!"
Arlathan's expression darkened. "I mean, we suspected he might be involved, but to see it confirmed like this... it's despicable."
"That last letter was sent only a week before we set out! Morista Malkin needs to see these," Zelyra said urgently. "Gauntlgrym and the Emerald Enclave should be warned!"
"One thing at a time," Varan said calmly. Though inwardly, the ranger was anything but. He did not recognize the name Kythel, but he certainly agreed with Krom about who H.N. was. "The dwarves should not be going anywhere near Goldleaf. Remember, King Bruenor laughed Hal off. So, Morista brought the case to the Circle, and they sent us instead—"
"Yay for us," Arlathan muttered.
"—our priority should be taking out this Speaker Kythel and the Gol'Goroth. And when that is finished, we return to Goldleaf and expose the mayor's treachery to the entire town," the ranger finished.
"If they listen to us," the moon elf replied.
Krom clenched his fists, his anger evident. "We'll make them listen. Hal will pay for what he did to these people, and Speaker Kythel will pay for it, too. This ends here and now. No more innocent lives will be taken."
The four companions exchanged set glances. They were all resolved in this.
Even Hayth growled his own version of sworn vengeance.
They continued sifting through the papers and found a map of the lair that detailed each of its chambers and pathways. After carefully retracing the route that they'd taken from the entrance to the exact spot they stood in now, they realized that the path leading into darkness led to the chamber where the Gol'Goroth resided. The iron door led to a hidden sanctuary used by the cult for their most secretive rituals. Beyond that was the vault.
"This is our endgame," Varan said, pointing to the Gol'Goroth's chamber. "But it might be worth investigating the ritual space as well."
"And the vault! Who knows what kinds of riches these cultists have stolen from the town," Krom added.
Arlathan sniffed the air. "Still smells foul… We have the time."
Armed with new knowledge, the companions prepared to move forward, but not before gathering the most important documents. These they tucked into their packs to ensure they had the evidence needed to expose Mayor Neelow and the cult's atrocities. Then, they took one last look at the disturbing laboratory. It served as a reminder of the stakes of their mission. What they had uncovered went far beyond what the Enclave and the Circle of Swords ever suspected…
But as the party approached the heavy iron door, their hearts sank when Varan tried the handle and found it firmly locked. Unlike the door that led into the sanctum, this had no special slot. It was just an ordinary door that most likely took an ordinary key.
Frustration flickered across the ranger's face as he stepped back.
"Maybe one of the cultists had the key on them," Krom suggested.
The four companions split up once more to check the bodies of the fallen cultists. They turned out pockets and inspected every possible hiding place. But despite their meticulous search, no key was to be found. Their hopes of getting into the ritual chamber quickly dimmed.
Arlathan sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Nothing. They must have hidden it somewhere else."
Zelyra quickly pulled out her thieves' tools. "Hold on. Before we give up, let me try one more thing," she proposed, stepping up to the door.
The druid inserted her tools into the lock, her fingers moving with practiced precision, but the lock was intricate and resistant. She worked for several minutes, sweat beading on her forehead as she focused all her skill on the task. But finally, she stepped back with a sigh of frustration, her tools clinking softly as she put them away. The mechanisms were too complex for her to overcome.
"I'm not as good at this as my brother was…" Zelyra admitted. "I can't pick it." [1]
"Thwarted by a door yet again," Krom muttered, shaking his head.
"Erstod said he was the Keymaster. Maybe he has it," Arlathan suggested.
"Backtracking to find him will waste too much time," Varan argued. "And if he were to make us solve another puzzle to locate it…"
"Duly noted," the moon elf said. "We take the other path."
"It seems we don't have much choice," Zelyra said, looking towards the dark passage they now knew led directly to the Gol'Goroth. "We'll need to be careful. Light your torches, but be prepared. The darkness feels unnatural."
"We have this as a backup," Arlathan said as she pulled the driftglobe from her pack.
"We should save that as leverage against the Gol'Goroth," Varan pointed out. "It should only be used at our uttermost need."
They relit their torches, but the flickering flames cast only a dim glow that barely extended ten feet. It was as if the shadows were alive, hungrily consuming the light. As they moved deeper into the tunnel, the oppressive feeling returned, pressing down on them with an almost physical weight. From below, they heard strange chants and a sickening, gurgling sound that sent shivers down their spines. The walls were adorned with more grotesque depictions of the Gol'Goroth, its tentacles reaching out as if to ensnare them. The air was initially foul, a revolting scent that made their stomachs churn, but as they pressed further into the darkness, the air inexplicably shifted and turned sweet.
Now was their chance…
They proceeded cautiously; their senses heightened with the anticipation of danger. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every whisper a potential ambush.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the darkness.
"No visitors! The master is resting!" it hissed. "Remain above with the others. I will come for you when there are more instructions."
Varan held up a fist and gestured for the group to halt. His eyes narrowed as he strained to see past the torchlight into the unnatural gloom, as his darkvision was keener than most. [2]
They had reached a dome-shaped chamber. The floor was littered with the corpses of animals and humans, turning parts of the room into treacherous, difficult terrain. At the center, the ranger could barely distinguish a dark figure standing near a shadowy, indistinguishable mass that let out intermittent gurgles and low croaks. Just as the journal entries warned, the Gol'Goroth rested under a spell of darkness maintained by his most loyal servant. The awful croaking sounds were the only indication of its presence. Fortunately, those sounds were also loud enough to drown out the party's whispered voices as they discussed their next move.
"The Gol'Goroth is resting," Varan muttered. "We strike now."
"But if we're detected, Kythel will wake the Gol'Goroth," Arlathan said, her voice barely audible. "And then we'll be fighting them both in total darkness."
"We need a way to dispel it," Krom agreed.
"Do either of you have the power to do that?" Varan asked the druids.
They both shook their heads. That kind of magic was far too advanced for them.
"I think the driftglobe would be the only way," Arlathan said.
"We shouldn't show our full hand yet. We take out Kythel by sneak attack first," the ranger improvised. "If we can disrupt his concentration, it might drop the spell."
Krom nodded. "That could work…"
"We'll need to move silently and use the shadows to our advantage," Arlathan added.
An idea suddenly struck Zelyra. "Varan, do you think you can cloak our steps? Like you did to bypass the fey in the Wood?" she asked eagerly.
The ranger's upper lip quirked as he nodded.
Krom gripped his warhammer tightly, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. "Let's snuff the torches and do this," he said.
Varan whispered a few words in druidic and drew upon his meager store of magic to summon a veil of shadows and silence, cloaking the party in an ethereal shroud. Then, they pressed forward without torchlight to guide them. The faint glow of bioluminescent fungi and their own forms of darkvision was all they had to rely on. Their hearts pounded. The unnatural gloom seemed to press in on them from all sides, but they kept their focus, moving as quietly as possible with Varan's spell firmly in place.
The ranger signaled for the group to spread out, positioning themselves at different points within the room to encircle Kythel while still falling within the range of the cloaking spell. Zelyra moved like a shade, her footsteps barely a whisper on the cold stone floor. The druid readied her first attack spell, her eyes locked on Kythel. Arlathan, Hayth, and Krom mirrored her movements, their weapons of choice each at the ready.
Varan waited until the others were in position before creeping closer. The blades strapped on his back gleamed faintly in the glow of the bioluminescent fungi, but he left them there. The ranger could feel the tension in the air, the weight of this pivotal moment pressing down on them. Once the first shot was made, there was no going back.
With a nod to his companions, Varan drew his longbow and nocked two arrows.
But it was not to be.
Despite their best efforts, Speaker Kythel was expecting them.
The companions all had darkvision, of course, and could operate normally in dim to dark conditions. But their vision could not pierce through the blackest of black that the Gol'Goroth required—magical darkness—not like Speaker Kythel. And that was their downfall. And no one within the cult would dare to disturb the Gol'Goroth without his express invitation. No one would dare to expose the master to flame, not even the slightest hint of it. Thus, Kythel knew when he spotted the flickering light of torches that he needed to prepare for an ambush. His eyes narrowed, and he hurled a vial of ooze toward an unsuspecting Varan with a swift motion. The glass shattered near the ranger, the ooze spreading and sizzling. Varan held his breath, careful not to inhale, and darted for a safe corner of the room. Unfortunately, his concentration on the cloaking spell was broken in his effort to evade the vial. The party was now completely exposed.
"There you are!" Kythel hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You dare invade the sanctum of the Gol'Goroth?"
The priest turned towards the monstrous entity and spoke in a guttural, ancient tongue that of the four companions, only Zelyra understood. Deep Speech. She had not known that one of Laucian's more unconventional lessons might come into play during this mission, and yet, there it was. The Cult of the Gol'Goroth was full of surprises. [3]
The druid felt her heart rate increase as she realized what Kythel was doing.
"He's waking it up!" she warned her companions. "Everyone, back up!"
The air turned foul as the Gol'Goroth stirred, its massive form shifting beneath the cloak of darkness as it emerged from its deep, meal-induced slumber. It let out a deep, resonant croak that echoed throughout the cavern, shaking the walls and ground. And then, from the tunnel behind them, came a cacophony of higher-pitched croaks that grew louder and more frantic. The companions exchanged panicked glances. The pit was emptying, and it was only a matter of time before the Gol'Goroth's spawn reached them.
"His children come!" Kythel shouted triumphantly, sensing their rising fear. "You shall suffer for your insolence!"
This was not something they had factored into any of their plans.
But they could not—would not—back down.
"Let them come," Krom bellowed gruffly in return. "I do not fear death."
His defiance was like the breaking of a dam. The companions braced themselves as the Gol'Goroth surged out of the magical darkness, its tentacles flailing violently. This truly was a nightmarish entity, over twice the size of the other two giant toads combined, and was no foolish opponent either. It immediately fixed its depthless gaze on Krom, the bulkiest of the group but also the one who had incited such an absurd challenge. The barbarian's eyes clouded as the creature's malevolent stare bore into his soul, trying to twist his mind with overwhelming madness. The half-giant gritted his teeth, fighting the mental assault with sheer willpower, which left him momentarily stunned and vulnerable.
Varan knew they needed a tactical advantage. His gaze darted around the chamber, searching for the perfect ambush spot. At last, his gaze landed on the ceiling. There was no harm in going up. The ranger activated his boots of spider climb and scaled the wall, using the vertical space to position himself above the Gol'Goroth and within stalactite cover. From his elevated perch, he drew his longbow, nocked an arrow, and marked the creature below as his quarry.
The druids, meanwhile, moved in to support Krom in his moment of weakness. If the Gol'Goroth tried to strike him, it would have to go through them first. Zelyra threw up her shield while Arlathan loaded her sling with three sharp rocks and stood at the ready.
"Stay strong, Krom!" the moon elf urged. "We need you!"
As Varan loosed his first arrow, it struck the Gol'Goroth deep in the left shoulder, causing the demon to roar in pain and fury. The distraction provided a brief respite for Krom, who shook off the effects of its unsightly gaze and steadied himself. The ranger swiftly fired two more shots, hoping to immobilize the creature. One arrow flew wide, but the other sunk into the Gol'Goroth's right shoulder blade.
Realizing the threat from above, the Gol'Goroth lashed out with its giant tentacles, trying to swat Varan down, but instead struck a mass of stalactites. The ranger agilely dodged the spray of rock and the attack, his magic boots allowing him to cling to the wall effortlessly. The debris rained down on those who stood below instead.
"We have to take them both down," Varan shouted over the din. "Arlathan, you and Hayth focus on Kythel! Krom, Zelyra, and I will handle the Gol'Goroth!"
Arlathan nodded breathlessly and then whistled for Hayth to follow her.
From that point on, the room was chaos. Arlathan and Hayth moved to engage Kythel, their combined efforts driving him back toward an altar near the side of the room. The priest took shelter behind the crude structure and held the pair off by throwing vial after vial of primordial ooze. Arlathan shielded Hayth as best as she was able. The last thing they needed was a wolf throwing up frogs.
Zelyra focused her attention on the Gol'Goroth, summoning vines and roots to latch on to its tentacles and slow its movements. But this creature was indefinitely stronger than the darkmantles and the two giant toads the party had faced on their journey. The Gol'Goroth easily tore through her restraints, forcing the druid to retreat to a more favorable position.
Seeing the druid's failed efforts, Varan abandoned his unnatural perch on the ceiling to launch a coordinated attack against the monstrosity on the ground alongside Krom. The ranger and barbarian attempted a flanking maneuver, weaving in and out of the shadows to find better positions, but it was as if the Gol'Goroth anticipated their every move. Its tentacles whipped violently, lashing at them and forcing them back into the open. Then, with a terrifying, guttural croak, the Gol'Goroth launched itself into the air, its massive bulk defying gravity.
"Brace yourselves!" Krom bellowed, anticipating what would come next.
The massive creature came crashing down on the cave floor with earth-shaking force, sending shockwaves through the cavern. Zelyra, Varan, and Krom staggered from the sheer force of the tremors, but that was not where the true danger lay. Massive chunks of stone dislodged from the ceiling and began to rain down around the monstrosity, turning the battlefield into a mess of falling debris.
"Watch out!" Varan shouted, diving to the side just as a large boulder crashed where he had stood moments before. He rolled to his feet, nocking an arrow and aiming at the creature's malignant eyes.
Nearby, Zelyra threw up her shield just in time to deflect a smaller piece of debris, but the force still knocked her off her feet. Krom wasn't as lucky. A massive chunk of stone struck him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. The barbarian grunted in defiance as he tried to push himself up, but even in his rage, his movements were sluggish.
"Krom!" the druid cried out, rushing to his side. As she placed her hands on the barbarian's shoulder, golden light enveloped him, knitting his wounds and pouring life back into him.
The Gol'Goroth's tentacles lashed out with terrifying speed, three of them whipping through the air towards the companions. One tentacle targeted Varan, its barbed end catching him across the chest. The ranger staggered back, his vision blurring from the pain. Blood seeped through his armor, but he gritted his teeth and nocked another arrow. It struck the Gol'Goroth in the haunches, causing the creature to roar in fury.
Krom, now back on his feet, snarled in defiance. The first tentacle swipe at him missed, so he charged the Gol'Goroth, his warhammer swinging with all his might. The weapon connected with one of the creature's hindlegs, but the Gol'Goroth retaliated swiftly. The third tentacle wrapped around Krom's waist and lifted him off the ground. It then hurled the half-giant across the cavern, where he crashed into a pile of debris.
Zelyra felt a fresh wave of panic as she was torn between helping Krom or Varan. They—she—could not keep this up. Her magic would be depleted soon if she was not careful. The druid frantically turned her gaze to the far side of the room where Arlathan and Hayth were still engaged with Speaker Kythel. They were out of the way of the crumbling ceiling, and the priest himself was doing very little fighting aside from hurling vials. And yet, it was enough to keep the other druid and wolf distracted and at bay.
They desperately needed to regroup.
In a fit of despair, Zelyra cried out, "Arlathan! We need you!"
The druid and her wolf companion swiftly abandoned the high priest to his cowardly hiding and rejoined the main fray. The battle raged on, brutal and unforgiving. The companions took turns falling and rising, their bodies battered and bruised. Each time one of them went down, the others rallied to their aid, casting healing spells or shouting words of encouragement. But the Gol'Goroth was relentless, its tentacles slashing and smashing with unyielding ferocity.
Varan, struggling to stay conscious after a particularly hard blow to the head, saw Zelyra fall out of the corner of his eye. Her half-elven form lay motionless beneath a pile of rubble, her breath shallow and labored. The ranger crawled towards her on his hands and knees, taking cover behind various stalagmites, and hoped to avoid the Gol'Goroth's attentions for just one moment by staying low.
"Zelyra—Zelyra, hang on," he murmured when he reached her, his voice barely audible. The ranger cradled the back of her head, pried open her lips, and poured a vial of bright red liquid into her mouth with shaking hands.
The druid came to sputtering and shaking. "Varan," she muttered tiredly when his face came into focus. "We can't keep doing this."
"I know," he breathed.
The croaks from the tunnel grew louder with each passing moment. They were running out of time. If the spawn reached them before they defeated the Gol'Goroth, they would be both overrun and outmatched. Something was needed to swiftly turn the tide back in their favor.
Varan held out a hand and helped Zelyra back to her feet.
"I think the time has come to show all our cards," he said.
"The driftglobe?"
"Time to test your theory, Z."
Varan shouted their idea across the cavern, hoping Arlathan would hear him even as she frantically dodged more tentacle attacks and falling debris alongside Krom and Hayth. Fortunately, she did. The druid disengaged, allowing Krom and Hayth to cover her, as she reached into her pack and pulled out the magic item gifted to them by Master Naitha.
"Daylight!" she commanded in Druidic.
The globe floated into the air, casting a bright, soothing light throughout the chamber that unapologetically cut through the shadows of the room. Just as Zelyra had predicted, the Gol'Goroth recoiled from it, its tentacles flailing more erratically. But from his hiding place at the altar, Speaker Kythel was ready. He raised his hands, chanting a dark spell to dispel the driftglobe's magic and plunge the room back into eternal night.
As the magic took hold, the driftglobe's light flickered, and spidering cracks formed upon its smooth surface. The companions felt their hopes grow dim. They were already fighting a losing battle. They certainly could not defeat the demon that was the Gol'Goroth in utter darkness.
But just as total despair threatened to take hold, a familiar figure appeared at the edge of the chamber. He had a long white beard and was swathed in dusty robes. It was the Keymaster, formally known as Erstod. And though his eyes were still wide and wild, they also held sharp intelligence.
"Perhaps you underestimated me, Speaker Kythel," the wizard said, his voice cutting through the gloom.
Kythel did not have the sense or time to react. With a swift motion, Erstod invoked a counterspell, nullifying the other mage's magic and restoring the driftglobe's brilliant light.
"Erstod?!" Zelyra exclaimed, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief.
"Perhaps he was not mad at all…" Varan murmured.
Erstod turned to the four exhausted adventurers, a determined look on his brow. "I'll keep Kythel occupied," the wizard promised. "He and I have unfinished business. You focus on the Gol'Goroth."
The companions exchanged quick nods, their spirits lifted by both the thought of an unexpected ally and the radiant light of the driftglobe. The Gol'Goroth would no longer hold the advantage. They could do this.
Krom led the charge. The barbarian thundered around the behemoth making distracting taunts and jabs while Hayth flanked and bit at the creature's hindquarters. Varan danced around them in turn, his movements swift and precise. Arlathan viciously hurled sharp rocks from her magical sling to give the Gol'Goroth a meager taste of its own medicine. But Zelyra held back as another idea came to her, something that required no magic, only fortitude.
The druid dropped to one knee and braced her shield against her shoulder.
"Varan—shield!" she cried, hoping the ranger would understand her meaning.
He did. Varan tore a path her way, bow in one hand and two arrows clenched in the other. Just as he should have collided with her, the ranger pushed up and off her shield with his good foot while adding a bit of magic to his step. Zelyra held firm, bracing with all her might, and then shifted to match his projected momentum. The combined effort sent Varan springing into the air. [4]
He soared over the Gol'Goroth, twisting mid-air to aim his longbow, and his target, utterly disoriented by the aerial maneuver, hesitated. Varan rapidly released his two arrows in a single shot, each flying straight and true. The Gol'Goroth let out a deafening roar as both embedded deep within its right eye socket.
The ranger landed nimbly on two feet, safely on the other side, with adrenaline pumping through his veins and a rare grin splitting his face. He could certainly get used to fighting alongside the druids.
. . .
At the far end of the chamber, Erstod took a threatening step toward Kythel, his presence commanding despite his disheveled appearance. "I have waited long for this moment," the wizard said, his voice steady. "The madness was a ruse, a means to bide my time. These adventurers have allowed me to finally act."
"Traitor!" Kythel spat. "You'll die with them!"
Erstod nonchalantly summoned a fire bolt in response and directed it at Kythel.
The high priest's face twisted in shock and fury as the flames struck him and quickly spread to the fabric of his robes. Kythel attempted to retaliate by clenching a fist, hoping to bend the wizard's will to his own and paralyze his movement. But Erstod was long tired of being someone else's puppet. He could not be moved.
. . .
The battle raged on. The four companions fought against the Gol'Goroth with everything they had while Erstod kept Kythel engaged. But just when they thought they were making headway, a barbed tentacle shot out to ensnare Hayth. The wolf snarled and snapped as it snaked around his torso, but the Gol'Goroth's grip was unrelenting. Then, swiftly and brutally, the monstrosity flung Hayth against the cavern wall.
The impact…was bone-shattering.
Hayth let out a gut-wrenching yelp before falling limp to the ground, unmoving.
Arlathan's eyes widened in horror. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the noise of the battle fading into the background. All the druid could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, pounding with a mixture of grief and fury.
"No!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the cavern.
The sight of Hayth's still form ignited a primal ferocity that swiftly surged through the druid's veins. Arlathan's bones began to pop and crack as her limbs elongated and thickened, and her nails grew to sharp points. Her face morphed into a snarling maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Fur sprouted across her skin, and her eyes glowed savagely.
When the transformation was complete, the dire wolf let out a bone-chilling howl, a cry of vengeance that reverberated through the cavern. The companions turned to see their moon elf druid, now a fearsome beast, ready to avenge her fallen friend.
The Gol'Goroth's tentacles lashed out again, but Arlathan was too quick. She darted forward with incredible speed, her powerful jaws snapping shut around one of the writhing appendages. With a mighty shake of her head, she tore the tentacle free, dark ichor spraying from the wound.
Varan, Krom, and Zelyra watched in awe and horror as Arlathan singlehandedly unleashed her primal fury upon the Gol'Goroth. The dire wolf was a blur of motion, her claws raking deep gashes into the creature's hide, her teeth ripping through flesh and sinew.
"We have to keep pushing!" Varan shouted as he shook himself from his stupor. "Arlathan's giving us an opening!"
Krom roared in agreement, his warhammer crashing into the Gol'Goroth with more thunderous force. Zelyra prayed to the First Circle, beseeching them to fortify her spells. More roots and vines burst from the ground to entangle the monstrous toad and hold it in place. This time, the druid poured every ounce of her willpower and her faith into those restraints. The Gol'Goroth would not hurt anyone else.
. . .
As the companions made their last stand against the monstrous toad-like entity, another battle raged—one of magic and resolve. Erstod, the once-corrupted wizard, and Speaker Kythel, the high priest of the Gol'Goroth, faced one another across the chamber. The air crackled with arcane energy as the two mages prepared to unleash their spells.
Kythel's eyes blazed with dark fury as he raised his staff and began to chant in Deep Speech. Black tendrils of magic snaked out from his fingertips, coiling through the air like vipers. "You dare defy the Gol'Goroth's will?" he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You will die for your insolence, Erstod."
Erstod responded in kind. "Your reign of terror ends here, Kythel. Goldleaf and Neverwinter Wood will soon be free of your corruption," he vowed.
The wizard extended his hands, summoning a sphere of fire that pushed back against the darkness. The two spells collided in the center of the room, their energies clashing and sparking violently. The impact sent a fresh wave of tremors through the chamber. The companions, locked in battle with the Gol'Goroth, felt the reverberations but held their ground, knowing they had to trust Erstod to handle whatever Kythel threw at him.
Kythel sneered, his eyes narrowing as he began chanting another incantation. Shadows gathered around him, forming into sharp, jagged points that he hurled towards Erstod. The shards sliced through the air, their edges glinting like tiny daggers.
But the wizard tugged on a specific strand of the Weave and disappeared from where he was standing, only to reappear 30 feet away in a swirling arcane mist.
The dark shards struck naught but air.
"You'll have to do better than that," Erstod taunted, his voice steady despite the strain of maintaining his defenses.
"You will bow before the Gol'Goroth!" Kythel replied, channeling his anger into a powerful blast of necrotic energy.
The dark beam surged forward, aiming directly at the wizard's heart. But Erstod was ready. He conjured a shimmering shield, and as the necrotic blast struck it, the spell rebounded, arcing back toward Kythel.
The high priest barely managed to deflect his own attack.
Their magical duel continued, each spell more potent and desperate than the last. Fire and ice clashed with shadow and light. The chamber was a storm of arcane fury. The companions, battling the Gol'Goroth, could feel the intensity of the mages' struggle and redoubled their own efforts with the knowledge that they were not alone in this fight.
Finally, Erstod saw an opportunity. His hands moved in intricate patterns, his voice a steady chant that resonated with power. Kythel, realizing the danger, tried to interrupt the spell with a barrage of dark energy, but the wizard's focus was unwavering.
With a final, triumphant shout, Erstod completed his spell. A crackling beam of lightning shot from his hands, piercing Kythel's defenses and striking him square in the chest. The high priest screamed in agony as the electricity frayed his every nerve. He staggered, his staff falling from his grasp, and his eyes, once filled with malice, now reflected fear and disbelief.
"No... this cannot be..." Kythel gasped as he convulsed on the spot.
Erstod stepped forward, his eyes cold and determined.
"Your time is over, Kythel. The Gol'Goroth's reign ends here."
. . .
Gol'Goroth's spawn began to spill into the chamber. Time was quickly running out.
"Krom, we need to take out those tentacles!" Varan shouted as he dodged a lashing appendage.
The barbarian nodded, his mind racing as he assessed the spiraling situation. With a fierce battle cry, he charged forward, his massive form barreling through the treacherous terrain. He swung his warhammer with brutal force, smashing aside any smaller frogs that tried to impede his path. His eyes were locked on the Gol'Goroth, the beast that had caused so much suffering.
As he neared the creature, the Gol'Goroth's tentacles whipped toward him, but Krom was ready. He leapt into the air, his powerful legs propelling him higher than any would expect from a being of his size. As he soared, he raised his warhammer above his head, and the runes on the hammerhead and handle lit up with divine light.
"By the wrath of the Wildmother, I will end you!" Krom bellowed, his voice filled with the fury of a warrior pushed to the brink.
In that moment, time seemed to slow. The Gol'Goroth's empty eyes followed Krom's ascent, its tentacles straining to reach him. But the barbarian's aim was true. With a mighty swing, he brought the warhammer crashing down onto one of the Gol'Goroth's tentacles. The sound of the blow resonated like a thunderclap.
The tentacle shattered under the force with thick, black ichor spraying from the wound. The Gol'Goroth let out a deafening roar of pain, its remaining tentacles flailing wildly. But Krom was not done. He landed in a crouch, then sprung back up to deliver another devastating blow to a second tentacle. His warhammer struck with precision and power, severing the appendage and sending it writhing to the ground.
"Krom, you've done it!" Zelyra shouted, her voice filled with rising hope.
Meanwhile, Arlathan continued her rampage of retribution. She lunged at the Gol'Goroth's head, her jaws closing around its other empty socket. With a savage twist, she ripped it open. The Gol'Goroth, now blinded and bloodied, thrashed in desperation, but it was no match for the combined might of the companions and Arlathan's feral wrath. With a final, powerful bite, the transformed druid tore into the Gol'Goroth's throat, her teeth sinking deep into its flesh. It let out one last gurgling cry before collapsing to the ground, its three stubbed tentacles twitching in death throes.
But despite the party's apparent victory, no one could muster a single word. They all knew that despite their valiant effort, the Gol'Goroth had managed to snare one final victim. What joy was there in that?
When the monstrosity finally stilled, Arlathan, still in her dire form, climbed atop it and let loose a lone howl that tore down the others' spines. It was a howl of pain and love and loss—a bay of utter grief. Tears spilled down Zelyra's cheeks to see her dear friend mourning in a moment that otherwise should have called for celebration.
The Gol'Goroth was no more.
But that would not bring Hayth back…
A momentary silence filled the lair. The shadows fell away and the oppressive weight that had followed the companions since the moment they stepped foot in the cave lifted as the Gol'Goroth began to deteriorate. In a matter of minutes, Arlathan's dire form was left standing in a puddle of viscous, black sludge.
And so went anyone—or anything—that had fallen under the demon's sway. The party watched in horror as the Gol'Goroth's spawn suddenly began to explode violently, one by one, all around them. Primordial ooze rained down, splattering against the walls, the ground, covering everything in a grotesque, sticky mess. Zelyra instinctively threw up her shield to protect herself from the onslaught, but Varan, Krom, and Erstod were not so lucky. They quickly found themselves drenched in wet, blue goo. Fortunately, now that the Gol'Goroth's hold on the material plane was severed, it no longer held an enchanting allure. It was now nothing more than an unpleasant inconvenience.
Arlathan slowly reverted to her elven form, and her eyes brimmed with fresh tears as she rushed to Hayth's side. The loyal wolf had been her steadfast friend and protector for many years, and now, in this moment of triumph, his loss weighed heavily on her soul. She gently stroked his dark fur and let out an anguished sob.
"I'm so sorry, my friend," the druid whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "You gave everything for us. I will never forget your sacrifice."
Varan, Zelyra, and Krom approached, their faces drawn with sympathy and sorrow. Varan placed a gentle hand on Arlathan's shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding. "You avenged him," he said softly. "He fought bravely, and so did you."
Arlathan nodded, her tears falling freely.
Zelyra knelt beside Arlathan, her hands glowing with golden, healing light. "Let me try," she said gently. But Arlathan's hand shot out and clamped down on her wrist.
"No, don't," the moon elf whispered.
"Why?"
Arlathan let out a shuddering sigh. "There's no need to humor me. We all saw it—heard it," she said sensibly. "His body is broken…"
"I can't mend bone," Zelyra said softly.
"I know," the other druid replied.
"And I can't bring back—"
"I know."
Krom looked down at the wolf's twisted form with anger and sorrow. "Hayth was a hero," he said simply. "And so are you, Arlathan. We will carry his memory with us, always."
This brought back Arlathan's tears anew. The companions stepped back and gave her the time and space needed to properly mourn while grieving Hayth's loss themselves. When at last the moon elf had cried all the tears there were to cry and her sobs ceased, she took a deep breath and stood. "Thank you," she muttered.
Zelyra gave the other druid a watery smile. "No need to thank us. We'll miss him too."
Erstod let the party converse amongst themselves for a few more minutes before approaching them cautiously. His eyes, now clear and sharp, reflected sympathy. "I am deeply sorry for your loss," the wizard offered. "I am sure he was a brave and noble companion."
"Thank you, Erstod," Arlathan replied, her voice resolved. "We fought for a cause greater than ourselves. Hayth understood that and gave his life for it."
Erstod nodded. "I owe you all a great debt," he said, addressing the entire party. "Not only did you free me from the Gol'Goroth's influence, but you ended its reign of terror. The citizens of Goldleaf will finally know peace because of your bravery."
"We freed you from the Gol'Goroth?" Zelyra repeated confusedly. "But how?"
The others were just as puzzled. What had they possibly done aside from solving a puzzle?
The wizard's gaze cut to Varan. "Memory is an extraordinary thing," he said with a quiet grin. "Sometimes all it takes is a spark to bring one's mind back into focus and remind them what is worth fighting for."
Varan stepped forward, his face lined with determination and fatigue, and held out his hand. "We couldn't have done it without each other," he admitted. Erstod clasped the outstretched hand, humbly accepting the ranger's gratitude and peace offering. Varan then turned back to his companions and said, "We should clear this place."
"I'm sure more of the Gol'Goroth's servants are hiding throughout the lair and in the forest," Arlathan said, dreading the thought. "It'll take hours to search every nook and cranny."
Erstod frowned. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that," he said. "The dark lord's servants are tied to the Gol'Goroth itself. It…" he paused, choosing his next words carefully. "It was part of their initiation process. They would give themselves to the Gol'Goroth, wholly and completely. Without its influence to sustain them now, they cannot possibly survive. Their minds are simply too far gone."
"Oh," the moon elf replied with a shudder.
"We should still search the place," Varan said after a moment of tense silence.
"And loot the vault," Krom added.
The ranger rolled his eyes. "Yes, and loot the vault."
"Kythel should have the key on him," Erstod offered.
"But I thought you were the Keymaster?" Zelyra asked.
The wizard smiled ruefully. "I was…and yet the cult did not trust me with that particular key," he replied. "For good reason, I suppose. The cult has been stealing from the people of Goldleaf for months. It's hard telling what all they have stashed away."
"Well, then I guess it's up to us to give it back to the people," the half-elf druid said sensibly.
"After we take what it owed to us," Krom cut in gruffly. "We were promised a reward after all. And something tells me that stinker Hal isn't going to hold up his end of the bargain."
"But—" Zelyra tried.
"We didn't do this for free, Z," Arlathan pointed out.
The druid crossed her arms across her chest. "Fine, three hundred gold and the magical sword if we can find it," she said. "The rest goes back to Goldleaf."
Varan's expression twisted with determination. "We'll find it," he said shortly.
Together, the four companions and Erstod moved through the lair, careful to avoid the pools of slime and the remains of the exploded frog creatures. They first went to Kythel's body, searching for anything of value. They found the key to the vault and a strange magical whip on his person that appeared to be made from one of the Gol'Goroth's tentacles. The whip pulsed with a faint, sinister energy, an obvious relic of the creature they had just defeated.
"I wonder why he didn't use it in the fight?" Arlathan pondered curiously.
"Because deep down, Kythel was a coward," Erstod answered.
"All bark and no bite," Krom summarized.
The wizard nodded. "Precisely. If it were up to him, he would have hidden in the shadow of the Gol'Goroth until all four of you lay dead. He only fought the way he did in the end because I forced his hand."
Zelyra tucked the dark weapon away in her pack—though she dared not touch it directly—with the intention of handing it over to Master Ansron when they returned to Taras Aldar. Perhaps he would know of a way to properly dispose of it. [5]
With the key in hand, the party approached the iron door that had thwarted them the first time around. It now opened with ease, revealing a small, soundproof chamber with a worktable in the center. Stacked on the table were samples of the strange primordial ooze, alongside other gruesome remnants of the cult's dark experiments. Corpses of creatures spliced together in twisted, unnatural ways lay scattered among dead albino squirrels and categorized skeletal remains. The air was thick with the scent of decay and dark magic.
And here, they also discovered the meaning behind Erstod's cryptic words regarding the fate of the cult. Any remaining cultists had suffered the same disturbing fate as the Gol'Goroth's spawn. Four lifeless bodies littered the floor of the ritual chamber, their skulls cracked open and their eyes staring upwards, unseeing. As the wizard had eluded, they could not sustain themselves with the demon's hold no longer over them.
"Disgusting," Krom muttered, his nose wrinkling in distaste.
"At least these poor folk can finally know peace," Arlathan offered.
"Let's find what we can and get out of here," Zelyra said.
They quickly searched the room, collecting the samples and any other valuable items they could find. They discovered a tunnel extending further into the lair among the grisly displays. Following it, they entered a second room, larger and less cluttered.
In the center of this room were four Potions of Healing, a magical wand among a stack of armor and weapons, and a great stash of wealth. The companions gathered as many items as they could, their spirits lifting slightly at the sight of the treasure. Anything that would not fit in their packs would have to be collected later.
As they sorted through the horde, Varan's eyes fell upon a weapon that made his heart skip a beat. Among the wealth and artifacts lay an elven inscribed scimitar he had not seen since he was just a boy—a treasured heirloom he had thought lost forever. The ranger picked it up and traced the familiar symbols carved into the blade with a revenant hand. He then quietly sheathed it, attached it to his belt, and was immensely thankful that none of his companions pressed him about it.
With their spoils collected and mission complete, the party and Erstod retraced their steps through the lair. The air still lingered with the remnants of dark magic, but the oppressive weight that had followed them since they first entered the cave was gone. And when they eventually emerged into the open air, they found the grey dawn of a new day beginning to peak through the twisted canopy of Neverwinter Wood. The forest somehow felt lighter, though still cold and dreary.
Varan turned to Erstod. "What will you do now?" he asked.
"I suppose I will return to Goldleaf and help rebuild what has been lost," the wizard said after some thought. "There is much work to be done, and I intend to make amends for any pain I might have caused while under the Gol'Goroth's influence."
The companions nodded in agreement, knowing this quest had brought them victory, a new ally, and a renewed sense of purpose. And so, with hearts heavy yet hopeful, they set out towards Goldleaf. This chapter of their journey may have ended, but their story had only just begun…
Arlathan turned to look back at the cave one last time.
"Don't worry, we'll come back for him," Zelyra promised.
She did not have to specify as to who.
The other druid nodded sadly.
"We'll come back for them all," Arlathan corrected after a moment of thought. "Even the cultists deserve a proper burial. It really wasn't their fault."
"No," Zelyra agreed quietly. "It really wasn't."
[1] I've been flavor-writing most of this story, but I actually rolled for this sleight-of-hand check, and Zelyra failed miserably. So, the party was thwarted by a door yet again.
[2] As a Gloom Stalker ranger, Varan's darkvision extends an additional 30ft from a half-elf's normal range of 60ft.
[3] During an encounter on the Silken Paths in chapter 8 of The Grey Warriors, Zelyra parlays with a spectator and reveals that Laucian taught her the language of Deep Speech at some point during her training. I was doing final edits for this chapter when I looked at the Gol'Goroth's stat block again and realized it knows Deep Speech. I knew I had to make a tie-in somehow, as Zelyra rarely gets to use that skill!
[4] This is the same shield trick that Zelyra uses with Sarith in chapter 25 of The Grey Warriors during their battle against Buppido :) As Zelyra does not have access to the Gust cantrip yet in this prequel, Varan is using the ranger 1st-level spell Jump to give him extra momentum.
[5] LOL, by the end of our OOTA campaign, poor Ansron had become the keeper of all sorts of cursed magic items. This is my little foreshadowing of that.
Per module, the Keymaster is supposed to follow a Mage stat block, while Speaker Kythel uses Cult Fanatic stats—both of which are from the Monster Manual. Except, I made a few changes. I upped Kythel's CR to give him access to 3rd and 4th-level spells and then exchanged some of those prepared spells for Dispel Magic, a modified form of Cloud of Daggers, Blight, etc., to better fit the story. I also gave Erstod Lightning Bolt and Flaming Sphere because I didn't think he needed Fireball, Ice Storm, and Cone of Cold. Was the Kythel/Erstod duel necessary? Probably not. But I was kind of excited to write a mage vs. mage battle, so…
I have three more chapters outlined (one of which is a revised Midwinter) to complete this story and fully tie it into chapter 1 of The Grey Warriors. Then we'll finally return to a dragon-ravaged Gracklstugh :)