The Beholder’s Lament was a public inn and tavern located in the Trade Ward of Waterdeep. It was neither the nicest inn, nor the shabbiest. Those who wanted someplace pleasant to stay could choose from plenty of better inns close by, while those who wanted a cheap, dirty place where no one would bother them wouldn’t stay there. In fact, it was one of the Harpers’ most secretive refuges in the City of Splendors, hiding in plain sight with enough wards and forbiddances inscribed into its floorboards, ceilings and walls to render it all but invisible to passers-by. Those ordinary Waterdhavians who did by chance stumble through its doors were served by gruff tavern-mistress Nera Harldrake, whose keen eye and memory for faces served her hidden masters well. They left with their bellies full, their wallets empty, and their memories of their night at the Beholder’s Lament curiously elusive. Out of sight of all but the most inquisitive, far beneath the tavern’s cellar was a Harper sanctum where Grandur Drakemont toiled in solitude, crafting magical items to order for the spy network. At least, that was what he normally did. Today, he had been summoned topside to sit in a booth with Remallia Haventree, leader of the Harper network in Waterdeep, a roiling pot of ticklemint tea between them. Nera Harldrake set out two pristine porcelain teacups with surprising grace, and then departed without a word. Grandur was vaguely aware that the Harpers’ guiding light could have sent a silver raven to speak with him rather than appear in person, so this was either a great honour or a portent of great doom. He squirmed in his seat as he tried to divine from the beautiful sun elf sitting across from him which direction this conversation was going to go. “I wished to meet you in person to offer my congratulations on your promotion to Wise Owl,” Remallia said. Grandur straightened up in his seat. “I…why…thank you, Lady Raventree!” he squeaked. “Please, you can call me Remy. But I have also come to speak to you of another matter, one of grave importance,” Remallia said. Grandur shrank back slightly. “There is a Grand Game afoot in Waterdeep,” Remallia told Grandur. “Do tell,” Grandur said, his interest piqued. “Periodically, throughout Waterdeep’s history, the byzantine factions of the city — or some significant subset thereof — will become collectively fixated upon some objective. Thus, will begin a Grand Game,” Remallia explained. “Sometimes the goal of a Grand Game will be arcane. Often it is clandestine, although quite public struggles are not unknown. On no less than three occasions the Grand Game has revolved around the appointment of the Open Lord. Whatever the case, the intense rivalries of the Grand Game give birth to all forms of subterfuge, covert activities, deception, and intrigue. And this Grand Game appears to be connected to the rather chaotic transition of power between former Open Lord Dagult Neverember and current Open Lord Laeral Silverhand.” “Sounds political,” Grandur said. “The Harpers have been piecing together the puzzle of this Grand Game, and have arrayed our assets in the pursuit of this puzzle. It is into this Grand Game that Siegfried Thann, or should I say Siegfried Alagondar, has been drawn, along with his companions the Champions of Phandalin.” “Okay,” Grandur said uneasily. “Former Open Lord Dagult Neverember has retreated to Neverwinter, where he is currently Lord Protector,” Remallia explained. “But in his departure he left something behind, something that various factions within the city speak about in hushed tones. Neverember’s Enigma, it is called. That is the spark that lit this current Grand Game, and the Harpers have reason to believe that one aspect of Neverember’s Enigma is in fact an ancient artifact of legendary provenance.” “Really?” Grandur asked. “Our agents, your friend among them, seek an artifact known as the Stone of Golorr,” Remallia continued. “Sounds mysterious,” Grandur said. “It’s terribly mysterious,” Remallia said. “An object likely older than Creation itself, its original purpose known only to the Aboleths of Aebir, an artifact whose abilities tap into magic that even the Netherese could not imagine. It is imbued with an alien intelligence that hungers for knowledge. It is the ultimate keeper of secrets. What it comes to know, it’s said, the world forgets.” “It’s incredible,” Grandur said. “Such hidden knowledge!” “Now we come to the crux of it. The Harpers have an interest in recovering the Stone of Golorr ,” Remallia said. “And what is their interest?” Grandur asked. “Ahem, our interest, that is.” “That’s strictly on a need-to-know basis,” Remallia said. “But I need to know,” Grandur pressed. Remallia sighed. “All right, Wise Owl, I suppose your new rank does convey the appropriate clearances. But this is, as I said, strictly confidential.” She leaned in over her steaming teacup. “Some of the High Harpers to which I report believe the stone contains vital intelligence that can help us in our struggle against the Abolethic Sovereignty,” Remallia said. “The Abolethic Sovereignty,” Grandur whispered. “And so, why send one spy when you can send two?” Remallia’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Your mission is to gather information about this mysterious stone and its mysterious eyes, and the factions that are in pursuit of the Stone of Golorr. Siegfried seems to think that Skullport is one such location of a portion of the Stone.” “Siegfried is never wrong,” Grandur said of his friend. “Quite,” Remallia said, not meeting Grandur’s gaze momentarily. “The Harpers have two assets in play already,” Remallia said. “An agent has infiltrated the Xanathar Guild and has gained the confidence of its leadership as trapmaster and engineer. He’s a dwarf by the name of Thorvin Twinbeard, and his person and position within the guild is to be protected at all cost, given how difficult it was for us to crack the Xanathar Guild’s inner circle.” “Noted,” Grandur said. “Within Skullport itself, there is a Harper safehouse located in the ruins of Dalagor’s Fortress, protected by a Dragonborn mage by the name of Felrax. Skullport and Undermountain are far from the protection of the Lords of Waterdeep, so tread carefully.” “Also noted,” Gradur said. “The party’s main goal at the moment is the recovery of the Ettin Axe of Uruth, a prize trophy once wielded by the Orc chieftain Uruth centuries ago until taken in battle by Waterdeep’s War Lord Gharl, but stolen back by orc infiltrators during the Siege of the Black Horde, though it appears to still reside somewhere in Waterdeep’s environs, resistant to all efforts to locate it by magical means,” Remallia said. “You must join this group and ensure their mission to recover both the Ettin Axe and the Stone of Golorr is a success. And, most importantly,” Remallia leaned in and fixed Grandur with a grave expression. “You must bring the Stone of Golorr to me once it is recovered.” “Obviously I want to protect my good friend Siegfried,” Grandur said. “If there’s a mystery afoot I suppose I could brave the front lines. I’m sure I’m strong enough in some form.” “Of that I have no doubt,” Remallia said, sipping her tea. From his hovering position high up in the cavern, the invisible Planetar-wen watched with interest as a large worm-like creature, its maw full of searching tentacles, grappled with a draconic Ettin who was desperately trying to wriggle free of the creature’s tightening grasp. “A mindcrawler wrestling with a half-dragon Ettin?” Planetar-wen said to himself. “Now I’ve seen everything!” Planetar-wen thought for a moment. “I have something for this. I’m going to go ham by summoning some boars!” He cast conjure animals and summoned a singular of wild boars, their tusks sharp and their snouts dull. “Go hogwild on that mindcrawler!” Planetar-wen commanded his porcine platoon, who obliged, stampeding across the sinkholes, their squeals reverberating throughout the cavern. A flash of arcane light caught Planetar-wen’s attention. He turned to the north. A rectangle of white light suddenly appeared in the corridor, and through it stepped a dwarf wizard, fiddling with a Harper pin on the lapel of his robe. “Wizard man!” Planetar-wen said telepathically. “We need help down here! We need to take this guy to Hogwarts!” “I don’t appreciate the pun, but I get it,” Grandur replied. “I’m good to help, I guess.” “Boarat! Dumbleboar! Boss Hogg! Attack!” Planetar-wen called out as they covered the uneven ground, closing in on the mindcrawler who was attacking the Ettin. Their tusks were soon slick with mindcrawler blood. There was a rumbling to the south as one of the sinkholes was suddenly filled with a second mindcrawler that had come to investigate the march of the pigs. Grandur moved into the cavern and cast Bigby’s Hand . A spectral, shimmering hand sprang into existence, and clenched into a fist as it slammed down on the nearest mindcrawler. The struggling Ettin swung his flail with his free hand, clocking the mindcrawler in an attempt to kill it. He swung again, but missed. The mindcrawler drew the Ettin ever closer to its gaping maw. Varien folded up his portable hole as he heard the sound of squealing boars from the cavern. “Erwen’s at it again,” he said to himself. He bolted through the adjacent chamber and then skidded into the cavern, kicking up a wash of gravel, right next to the desperate melee between Bonesplitter and the mindcrawler. “Erwen?” Varien called. “Where are you?” Can’t you see me? Planetar-wen replied. I’m over here by the corridors! Varien caught Bonesplitter’s eye for a moment and then cast misty step , leaving the Ettin gangster to his fate. He dashed past the second mindcrawler, who flailed a tentacle after him which failed to find purchase. The mindcrawler’s eyes began to glow as it unleashed a mind blast in a cone of psychic energy that caught Varien, Planetar-wen, and Grandur in its area of effect. Varien clutched his head and staggered, stunned. He fell to his knees and then pitched over with a clang. There was a loud thumping sound as the invisible druid crashed to the ground, unconscious. Siegfried jumped into Violance’s saddle as the nightmare rushed forward over Grandur’s head. Siegfried grabbed the prone paladin and hauled him over Violance’s back. He looked down and did a double-take. “Grandur?” Siegfried said, surprised. “Hello!” Grandur replied. His eyes flashed in recognition. “I recognize you! Hi!” Siegfried’s truesight revealed the prone form of Planetar-wen sprawled on the cavern floor. “One moment,” Siegfried said. He cast hex on the mindcrawler and then cast eldritch blast on the creature. A phalanx of shadowy skeletons holding shields and spears appeared. “Charge!” Siegfried called out. As his legion of eldritch shadows attacked the mindcrawler, he turned to Grandur. “So, how have you been? Enjoying your work as Brightcandle, I take it?” “Actually, it’s Wise Owl now,” Grandur said. “Is it now?” Siegfried smiled. “Checking up on a lowly Brightcandle then, are you?” “Oh, well, I heard you were in a spot of trouble,” Grandur replied, “and looking around you there are pigs and fiendish horses and unconscious men in armour, so naturally I assume…” “Oh, him?” Siegfried slapped Varien’s polished posterior. “This is my comrade-in-arms Varien Aether, and this is my nightmare Violance.” Violance snorted purple smoke from its nostrils. “Oh, uh, hello, sir!” Grandur said, cringing. Siegfried leapt from the saddle doing a backflip in mid-air as he landed, brandishing weapons, in front of the mindcrawler. Grandur clapped. The squealing of the boars suddenly stopped, echoing for a moment in the cavern. In unison, the boars turned around to face the party, blood dripping from their tusks, their eyes blank white. “That’s not good,” Violance said with a snort. Meanwhile, Bonesplitter began to scream in stereo, the eyes on each of his heads rolling back in their sockets as the mindcrawler’s tentacles finally gained enough purchase through his many facial orifices. Messily, the creature began to extract the Ettin’s brains. Bonesplitter’s screams of agony were cut short. “Yuck,” Grandur said, as the mindcrawler began to feed. The second mindcrawler began to strike at Siegfried with its tentacles, but the half-orc deflected each attack handily, gathering the tentacles in the crook of his axe and casting shield to ward off the more accurate strikes. The creature unhinged its jaws, revealing multiple rows of sharp teeth. “Did anyone get the licence number of that mindcrawler?” Planetar-wen asked from the ground as he came to. Grandur looked down in surprise as he saw an angel-shaped depression in the sandy floor of the cavern. I CAN SMELL YOUR BRAINS , the mindcrawler hissed telepathically. The harsh sounds of Deep Speech reverberated in the skulls of the party members. Grandur cast chill touch and generated a second ghostly hand, which began to throttle the mindcrawler, squeezing tightly. His Bigby’s Hand joined in, crushing the creature’s carapace. A great gush of guts erupted from the mindcrawler’s ruined mouth as the magical hands wrung the life out of it. “I can see your brains!” Grandur said. The creature’s innards splashed over both Siegfried and Planetar-wen in streaks of bright green and yellows. Grandur gawked as the gore revealed an angel-shaped form on the ground. That did not taste good, he heard telepathically. The brace of boars began to charge towards the party, most unnaturally, snorting in unison. Varien’s eyelids fluttered as he returned to consciousness. Siegfried cast Siegfried’s Scornful Shout . “Be ye pork!” He shouted at the oncoming herd of hogs. The blast wave tore most of the hogs apart, sending bits of pork flying in all directions. “Thank you for the meal,” Siegfried said to the mindcrawler. What the hell are you? The mindcrawler asked telepathically, “Hungry,” Siegfried said with a smirk. The mindcrawler stabbed the remaining boars that it had not been able to take mental control of, and then burrowed out of sight. Planetar-wen dismissed his remaining boars. “Rather ham-fisted, I’d say,” Grandur said. “Now,” Siegfried said. “Who wants to fight a vampire?” “Not really,” Grandur said. “Who wants to steal a vampire’s stuff?” Siegfried amended. “That’s a bit more interesting,” Grandur replied. “Come, Grandur, let’s introduce you to everybody,” Siegfried said. Varien got to his feet and dusted himself off. He entered the large rectangular chamber that was lined with black marble tiles on the walls, floor, and ceiling, and eyed the massive stone sarcophagus, large enough to hold a full-grown ogre, that occupied the centre of the chamber. The lid was carved to resemble a horror-stricken human male in fine robes pressing against eh surface of the lid in a futile attempt to escape. “Lovely,” Varien said. He knelt and began to unfold his portable hole . “You all right in there, Lord Thestus?” He helped the sage out of the dimensional pocket. “Friends, this is Lord Thestus Thongolir, late a guest of Bonesplitter and his gang.” “Lord Thestus!” Siegfried said, his eyes widening in surprise. “This dungeon is not your usual haunt.” “No, indeed it is not,” Lord Thestus replied. “And you are?” “Since you’ve been in a box for some time, you’d know me best as Siegfried Thann of House Thann,” Siegfried said. “Ah, a Young Master of House Thann!” Lord Thestus said. “I could say the same about your choice of environment, though I am pleased that your ally freed me from my imprisonment.” Siegfried approached the noble, intent on verifying the man’s identity. “So tell me, Lord Thestus, is your great-nephew Ithlintulvast still as timidly sober as an altar-boy?” He tightened his grip on Azuredge and awaited the man’s response. Lord Thestus scoffed. “My boy, I'm well-versed in faiths from across Faerun and have spent time in front of a dozen altars or more. My great-great-nephew would sooner be into the ceremonial wine or more likely have found a way to smoke the censer than to stand watch as an altar's attendant.” Siegfried smirked and nodded; the young heir to House Thongolir was an irreverent, irresponsible fop known for his love of the hookah. “Glad to hear you're either who you say you are or did basic research into your role. You can stay.” Lord Thestus harrumphed. Varien tossed the amulet that had adorned Thestus towards Siegfried and activated his divine sense . He could detect no signs or smell of evil within the chamber, creepy sarcophagus lid notwithstanding. Siegfried examined the amulet and handed it to Grandur. “My friend Grandur here actually taught me the identify spell, so it’s only fitting that he shows you all what he’s capable of.” “All right,” Grandur said, looking closely at the amulet. “They made Thestus here wear that,” Varien said by way of explanation. Grandur cast identify on the amulet. He discovered that the amulet itself wasn’t a magical item, but had been enchanted with a proof against detection and location charm that seemed to be fading away even as he held it in his hands. “Ah, the sort of thing that a cheap wizard would use to emulate an amulet of proof against detection and location . It’s losing its divination magic.” Siegfried investigated the perimeter of the room. “Thestus here was, what would you call it, kidnapped?” Varien asked the sage. Lord Thestus straightened his robes. “Yes, I consider my ordeal a kidnapping.” “Right, and I found him in a box amongst Bonesplitter’s belongings. Bonesplitter was that big green guy back there who fell afoul of the mindcrawler.” Varien said. “Do we know who did this to him?” Grandur asked. Lord Thestus shrugged. “Well, it was either Bonesplitter, someone working on Bonesplitter’s behalf, or someone who was paying Bonesplitter to keep me in that crate until they decided what to do with me once and for all. I had a strong feeling that my time was running out, as Bonesplitter kept arguing with a third party about payment.” “Well, if this amulet’s any indication, we’re not dealing with a grand mind here,” Grandur said, brandishing the amulet. He gave Lord Thestus a look of genuine compassion. “I’m not sensing anything necrotic from that sarcophagus,” Varien said. “Has anyone tried that door over there?” He indicated the sealed doorway to the east. “No, we were waiting for you,” Siegfried said as he walked an investigative perimeter of the room. “There’s a vampire over that way.” “Well, I’m here now,” Varien said. “Why didn’t you say so?” “We wanted to save it for you,” Siegfried said. “We know how much you love killing undead.” Siegfried continued to search the room. He discovered no secret doors hidden by magic, but as his gaze glanced upwards, he saw something in the Ethereal Plane above him. A magical barrier, just at the edge of Siegfried’s truesight, blocked a section of the Ethereal Plane from his view. From its elevation, nearly 120 above him, the warded rectangular border would be likely hewn into the living rock of Waterdeep’s plateau. But the barrier stood out as a white void against which the fog and mists of the Ethereal Plane roiled against. Siegfried pointed up. “There is an arcane safe this way. We’re going to rob it for everything its worth.” Siegfried hopped up onto Violance. “I’m going to scout this out a bit. Be right back after a trot around the block.” He and his nightmare disappeared into the Ethereal Plane. Grandur looked at Varien. “Is that a thing he does now?” Varien nodded. “Indeed.” Siegfried and Violance pushed their way through the swirling mists of the Border Ethereal, keeping the arcane ward barrier in sight as they moved past the ectoplasm. He could see the outlines of the chambers of the Dungeon of the Crypt beyond the sealed door, and then caught sight of a tall, vertical shaft that led from the dungeon straight as an arrow up through the rock, chimney-like. Siegfried followed the shaft’s trajectory upwards, and then caught sight of a humanoid figure climbing down its narrow expanse. Siegfried moved aside to let the man, who was bald and wearing close-fitting black clothing, descend hand over hand. Then he moved further up the shaft until he found the outlines of a small fissure that broke off from the fireplace flue and led to a tunnel-like corridor adjacent to the arcane barrier. Siegfried and Violance returned to their companions and crossed back into the Prime Material Plane. Grandur suppressed a yelp of surprise. “So, we’re going to have to go up a chimney,” Siegfried said. “And there’s someone crawling down it at the moment that I’m going to intercept.” He dismounted and went to the eastern door, pulling out his thieves’ tools and making sure his magical gloves were on. Grandur turned his attention to the massive sarcophagus before him. “Horrifying,” Grandur muttered as he viewed the carving on the sarcophagus lid. Searching the lid, he discovered that there were three small holes hidden in the lid of the sepulchre, inside the screaming figure’s mouth and nostrils. “This is some Bloodborne nonsense,” Grandur said. He shook and flexed his fingers nervously. “What are you looking at over there?” Varien asked. “There are holes inside this face on the lid,” Grandur explained. “Do I dare investigate further?” Varien stood nearby, arms crossed. “Go ahead,” he said. “Feel free.” Grandur prepared to use a mage hand to probe further. He drew in a breath and held it as he explored the sarcophagus lid.