Calvin the thug ushered Siegfried and the Trevelyan brothers through a concealed door in the chamber wall. “Galgath Shund’s lair—I mean, his office—is right around the corner,” he whispered, indicating a crypt-like corridor that headed north before making an abrupt easterly turn. The rectangular chamber had passageways that branched off like alcoves on either side. In the first antechamber there a finely-crafted bed, writing desk with chair and wardrobe occupying the space. A bookshelf filled with tomes, scrolls and other bits of parchment loomed near the writing desk. A series of tubes like the workings of a pipe organ ran along the chamber ceiling and collected together overhead to terminate in a row of small gasketed hatches on the wall just above the desk. Seated at the desk doing paperwork, seemingly heedless of the party’s intrusion, was a corpulent man dressed in rich, red robes with heavy gold jewelry dripping with gems at his neck, wrists, and fingers. His alabaster skin had a pale-grey cast, and scattered patches of thin, white hair stood out on his balding scalp. “You must be the fellow in charge of this small operation,” Siegfried ventured as he approached. The man continued to scratch away with a foot-tall black-feathered quill, muttering to himself under his breath as he wrote blood-red runes using ink from an inkwell, its opening like that of a festering wound. At last, he spoke. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he said, his words dripping with poisonous honey. “Are the Gnawbones conducting guided tours now?” At Siegfried’s side, Calvin flinched. “Bonesplitter will hear of this intrusion, you numbskull,” the man continued, speaking over his shoulder. “Bonesplitter will soon be occupied filling a number of positions that became open suddenly,” Siegfried said. “We’re here looking for the Ettin Axe and are passing through on our way down to another appointment we must keep in Skullport today. If you were to show us the way to the axe we will quickly be out of the way without much more violence.” Galgath Shund turned and regarded Siegfried with malevolent eyes rimmed with red. “Oh, really?” he murmured. “Of course, if more violence is required, more violence can also be arranged,” Siegfried said with a smile. “Harrumph,” Shund harrumphed. Over Siegfried’s shoulder he said, “A moment before you strike, Barclay. My curiosity has been piqued.” He waved his feathered quill dismissively. From the shadowed alcove there was a grinding sound as a tall, broadly-built shield guardian leaned out into view, its impassive visored face looking down at the interlopers. “I’m curious,”Galgath repeated. Without looking he placed the feather quill in the bloody inkwell and waved a bejewelled hand at a second chair. Siegfried casually sat. The corpulent man leaned back, his swivel chair straining audibly. “You’ve told me what you seek, but you haven’t told me who you are and who you think you are walking into my office unannounced.” Siegfried’s keen eyes noticed atop the piles of paperwork on the man’s desk was a rather crumpled and folded copy of yesterday’s evening edition of the Waterdeep Wazoo. Siegfried unfolded the copy of the newspaper and held it up, showing the woodcut image of his testimony at the Lord’s Court. “Yes, Barron Cockaby does do a good likeness, doesn’t he?” The man’s red-rimmed eyes widened slightly. “Well, oh my.” He scanned the article. “And your first public act is to travel through the Dungeon of the Crypt? Interesting, very interesting.” Shund smiled, revealing a mouth of rotting teeth. “Well, I hope you find your surroundings to your liking, half-blood prince.” “Not half to my liking as the crypt upstairs,” Siegfried said. “We had a pleasant time murdering everything undead in sight.” “Well you know what they say, Waterdeep’s City of the Dead can be quite hazardous to the unwary,” Shund said. “Quite,” Siegfried said. “Now if you’re on your way to Skullport I’m afraid you’ve taken something of a wrong turn,” Shund said. “Well, it is quite imperative that we obtain the Ettin Axe along the way, and the clues led us here,” Siegfried replied. “I see,” Shund said. “And you think that you’ll just be picking up this Ettin Axe and walking away with it?” His eyes glittered. “I’m sure we’ll have to murder several people along the way, but such is war,” Siegfried said. “Of course, war can be either bad for business or good for business, depending on which line people place their business.” “This is quite true,” Shund said with a sigh. Siegfried took note of the odour of death and decay from the man’s exhalation. He gave the slightest glance Alec’s way. Alec nodded and activated his divine sense , getting a whiff of rank evil from the seated man. To his surprise, he also discovered that Galgath Shund, though a scintillating conversationalist, was also dead as a doornail. He was no vampire, however; nor lich, nor mummy. In fact, he was some manner of crypt spawn. “Hey Siegfried, what’s a crypt spawn?” Alec blurted out. “Alec, that sounds like an impolite question,” Siegfried said. He suddenly realized that the look in Shund’s eyes that the man had been trying to hide during their verbal sparring was an all-consuming fear of death and the grave. Shund chuckled, the sound like rotten meat sloughing wetly off the bone. “Your strapping, burly companion is quite perspective, Siegfried Alagondar. The idea of lichdom never sat quite rightly with me, honestly – who has the time for such pursuits? No, I wasn’t going to let anything as pedestrian as my own death get in the way of my life’s work. But I take no offense from your masculine man-at-arms there. Clearly, you hired him for his insightfulness as well as his strength. But I digress. You clearly have work to do, as I have my own work to do.” It sounded to Bob as though Galgath Shund may or may not have been subject to an undeath after death spell; ancient magic known only to the priesthoods of Bane and Cyric. “Cardiovascularly challenged is the word,” Siegfried said. “Differently alive?” “I planned ahead,” Shund said. “Now, it is good that you came to me first.” While Shund spoke, Bob noticed that among the dead man’s jewelry was a pin that marked him as the Arcane Brotherhood, a wizard’s guild based in Luskan. The party had tangled with a member of the Arcane Brotherhood, Gallio Elibro, in Leilon, who was there at the command of Valindra Shadowmantle. Also among the Brotherhood’s membership was Kavatos Stormeye, Dagult Neverember’s spymaster and court mage. Both the Harpers and the Order of the Gauntlet considered the Arcane Brotherhood to be enemies. Siegfried placed Azuredge on his lap. Galgath raised an eyebrow and ran a hand along a staff that was leaning against the writing desk. It had what looked like an enchanted toroid affixed to its business end. “No need for that,” Siegfried said with a hint of warning. “Then I believe we are beginning to understand one another,” Shund replied. “I will say that the Lord of this Dungeon of the Crypt does keep a collection of trophies and artifacts and other collected items of interest under a rather impressive lock and key. But perhaps there is a way for both of us to get what we want out of this exchange. What do you say?” “I suppose we can let you lock up behind us after we get what we want,” Siegfried said. “Perhaps it would be better if you knew who you were dealing with,” Shund said. “Tell me, have you heard of the Baron of Blood?” Halfway across the dungeon, Varien felt a chill. Siegfried nodded. “The Bloody Baron, of course.” “He is known by many names,” Shund said, “but most famously Artor Morlin. He is no man, but a vampire lord. One of the few vampires of Waterdeep, unofficially of course.” “Oh yes, I believe he owes me money,” Siegfried said. Shund flashed his rotting teeth again. “I very much doubt that, but I suppose it’s possible that one of his many subsidiaries has found itself indebted to you.” “Maybe I owe him money?” Siegfried mused. “Quite,” Shund said. “Much like me, The Baron of Blood gets a percentage of everything that is moved through this Crypt. Cost of doing business, you see.” Siegfried recalled that Artor Morlin had supposedly been banished from Waterdeep more than a century ago by the Company of Crazed Venturers, who counted among their membership such luminaries as Khelben “Blackstaff” Arunsun and Nain Keenwhistler. Siegfried turned to Calvin. “Now, is Artor Morlin your Bonebreaker?” Shund chuckled. “That question’s far above this young thug’s pay grade, Siegfried.” “Who?” Calvin asked. “No,” he shook his head. “Bonesplitter’s no Baron, I can tell you that much.” “Is Bonesplitter a vampire?” Siegfried asked. Calvin scratched his head. “Well, he’s as likely to bite a chunk off you as he is to talk to you, but he’s no bloodsucker.” “Sorry, did you say he’ll take a bite out of you?” Siegfried asked, alarmed. “If he doesn’t like you, he’ll use anything at his disposal,” Calvin said. “I once saw him bite the head off a noble, but nah, he’s no vampire.” “Calvin here has inadvertently raised an amusing point,” Shund said with a smile. “You’re one of the few members of the nobility who has ventured into the Dungeon of the Crypt under his own will, Siegfried.” He chuckled darkly. “Interesting.” “Normally, when an aristocrat comes downstairs, it’s because they’ve been called by the people who actually get stuff done,” Siegfried said. “I happen to be one of those aristocrats who prefers to get stuff done.” “Bonesplitter is a serial kidnapper, and a brute at that,” Shund said. “So yes, most of the nobles who come down here do not do so under his own power.” “Bonesplitter’s one of those types who collect young girls for the right seller, then?” Siegfried asked. “Girls, boys, men, women, you know how his ilk works,” Shund said dismissively. “You need to stash someone somewhere while you work out the ransom details, and Bonesplitter arranges to put your quarry up in one of his chambers while those details are ironed out. And woe betide anyone whose loved ones stall or refuse to pay their ransom, believe you me.” “Well, sometimes you need to call a professional if you need to unburden yourself of a corpse.” Shund licked his lips. “Well, there are many ways to dispose of the dead,” he said. “But I’m getting ahead of myself.” “So, Bonesplitter’s less of a concern than Artor Morlin, who possessed all the shinies?” Siegfried asked. “Well, as I said, fortunate that you came to me first,” Shund said. “Perhaps young Calvin there’s a more enterprising thug than I give him credit for.” Calvin looked like he’d rather be exploring the Nine Hells than be in this room. “Calvin might end up as Bonesplitter’s sole employer by the end of the day,” Siegfried said. “Do consider taking him on as he’s been a jolly good sport about the whole thing.” Cavlin stifled a shrug. “So, back to the Baron of Blood,” Shund said. “He’s said to haunt these halls. At least part of them, anyways. As you can see, much of this dungeon is not up to its original standards. Though I do try to keep a clean house. But if you desire to treat with or otherwise put him out of my misery, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash.” Siegfried considered his options and resolved to sic Varien on the Vampire Lord while casting mind blank on himself. “All right, show us the way,” Siegfried said simply. Shund smiled and reached for his feathered quill. In the southern section of the dungeon, Violance watched as the arcane ooze attempted to dissolve one of his boss’s companions. “Hey Varien,” Violance said to Varien. “This guy lied to you!” The nightmare cocked his head towards the thug standing next to the paladin. “Shall I eat him?” “I might be the kind of person to give a man a third chance,” Varien said, glaring at the thug. Violance turned to the liar. “Did you hear that? One more screw-up and you’re mine.” The thug turned pale and wilted visibly. Violance trotted forward and kicked at the arcane ooze with his hooves, stomping the creature out. The nightmare backpedaled and the ooze shot out a pseudopod, bashing Violance and leaving acid behind to eat into the fiendish horse’s flesh. “Stand back, you,” Varien said, pushing the thug out of the way. He then activated his mantle of flame and cast a bonfire atop the arcane ooze. The ooze appeared to absorb Varien’s magic and regain some of its strength. “What is this, some sort of arcane ooze?” Varien said aloud. In the northwestern part of the dungeon, the poisonous fog continued to spread silently through the corridors, passing through the ashen remains of the door that Varien had set on fire. “What’s that?” the thug beside Varien pointed. Varien turned to see a sickly yellow cloud of vapour approaching. “Is there another way around?” Varien asked. “Yeah, through the ooze!” the thug replied. Varien rolled his eyes. “ Another way around?” The thug threw up his hands in frustration. “Well, yeah, if you follow the way I was trying to go, thank you very much, and then take the east tunnel south until you hit the caverns, then double back west, you’ll find Bonesplitter’s lair. I don’t- I don’t know what that smoke is,” he faltered. “I don’t know what it is either!” Planetar-wen’s voice, muffled, said from beneath the ooze. Summoning his angelic strength, he burst free from the ooze, splattering bits of it on the walls and ceiling of the corridor. “You guys can take it from here!” He shouted majestically. He beat his wings and flew south as fast as his wings could take him. He found himself in a cavern, which sloped steeply down to the east. The ground was covered with solidly-packed rubble, likely the detritus of earlier excavations to the west. Scattered small depressions in the rubble suggested that sinkholes were an occasional hazard in this cavern. To Planetar-wen it smelled like the place was used by the crypt’s denizens as a refuse dump. “Marco!” Planetar-wen said telepathically to anyone within range. “Marco!” He continued to fly around through the cavern and found a tunnel leading north. It did not look like worked stone, rather a caved-in section of cavern. Galgath Shund finished sketching out a map towards the Baron of Blood’s lair. “Of course, you didn’t get this from me,” he said, his voice dripping with syrup. “This will lead to the Great Hall via the most direct path. I think that you’ll be particularly interested in the hearth,” he continued. Siegfried thought that for all of Galgath’s honeyed language, he was an inveterate betrayer. At the same time, he wasn’t lying about the directions. He figured that from Galgath’s point of view, putting the party on the path to the Baron of Blood would be helpful to the undead wizard either way the confrontation concluded. Galgath tapped his drawing with a jagged fingernail. “I will caution you to be careful and watch your step in this chamber here. Do not disturb what you find there.” “All right,” Siegfried said. “And what’s this?” He pointed to a rectangular drawing on the map. “Ah, that is a pool, should you feel the need to go for a dip,” Galgath said with a foul smirk. Galgath rolled up the parchment and presented it to Siegfried, who accepted it. “Great,” Siegfried said. “All things being well, we shall not have to see each other again.” “Oh, I do hope that is true,” Galgath replied. “I do wish you the best of luck.” “Come then, Trevelyan brothers and Calvin,” Siegfried said. “We do have an adventure line to follow!” Calvin blanched. “What, me too?” “Come on, we’re off to see a vampire!” Siegfried said. “Great,” Calvin muttered. The party left via a secret door and passed through yet another unused storeroom, its floor covered in shattered bits of amphora and torn pieces of cloth. There was a door to the south, which they took. The arcane ooze lurched forward to attack Violance. A pseudopod clocked the nightmare, who shook his head, neighed, and disengaged, moving away at top speed. Varien turned to the thug. “You really don’t want to tell me how you and your gang friends keep these oozes under control?” The thug sighed. “Well, fine. Magic ain’t great, but you can certainly smash them with something blunt, or stab them with something sharp.” Varien quick-cast haste on himself and transferred his sentinel shield to his main hand. “You got something heavy, friend?” The thug looked at the blunt pommel of his shortsword and shrugged. Varien found his old shield and handed it over to the thug. “Get to work, then!” He cast haste on the thug. The two men began laying a savage beating on the approaching ooze, splattering blobs of viscous liquid in all directions. Varien applied a radiant smite to his attacks, finishing the creature off in a flash of radiant energy. “Well, that worked!” The thug said. Varien grabbed the thug by the scruff of his collar and propelled him towards Bonesplitter’s lair. “Hey, where are you going with my snack?” Violance called out.