Quiet as a literal church-mouse, Mouse-wen scampered out of the Temple of Beauty onto the streets of Waterdeep, intent on putting as much distance between him and the Synod as possible. He needed to order his thoughts and get away from all the socializing. He felt a slew of emotions – shame and guilt for his many underhanded dealings to name but two – and needed some time to himself to decompress, preferably in a setting that was not urban. To the south, the slopes of Mount Waterdeep rose above the city’s skyline. Bingo , Mouse-wen thought to himself. He scrambled and scampered down cobblestone streets, avoiding wagon wheels and horse hooves with preternatural skill, keeping clear of the twitchy-looking rats that fed on refuse in the city’s alleys, and keeping an eye and ear out for birds of prey in the air above, and cats in every other nook and cranny the crowded city had to offer. His picture-perfect memory of Waterdeep’s warren-like streets and avenues aided him as he approached the mountainside, intent on finding a certain rocky outcropping where he could sit in solace and watch the motion of the ocean in peace. As he moved from city streets to the mountain slopes, a lone seagull kept pace with him in the sky above. Mouse-wen found the rocky outcropping right where he knew it would be – affording him a sheltered view of the Sea of Swords. He dropped out of wildshape and found comfort in the shady nook and had a long think about what troubled him. Chiefly, he was feeling conflicted about his romance with Ysara, the Archdruid of the Laughing Hollow, and his relationship with Qelline Alderleaf in Phandalin. He thought about the choices he had before him: nestling in the bosoms of one woman or the other—or both, somehow—or pursuing a life of celibacy to put the chaos of romance behind him. He idly fingered the sprig of mistletoe the Archdruid had gifted him in exchange for his ring, but couldn’t keep his mind off the afternoon delights in the hayloft in Phandalin. And there was little Carp to consider, after all. His other dalliances—Lady Danas Winterpole, Haravak the Mountain Strider, and Silla Scalesweep, to name a few —also flit through his mind like flashes of erotic lightning. As he pondered his predicament, Erwen began to feel himself achieving a quantum of inner peace. Just as he was about to make a breakthrough, his concentration was shattered by the sound of a singing bowl being dropped down the mountainside. “Damnation!” an elderly man’s voice croaked from somewhere above Erwen. A gaunt figure in a simple brown robe suddenly swung down into view, hanging from the rocky outcropping by his arthritic fingertips. His age-lined face lit up as he spied the Halfling. “Oh, so sorry about the intrusion. Dropped my favourite bowl, y’see.” The old man detached and landed before Erwen, knees cracking explosively. “Forgive me!” He bowed. “I am known as Prior Hlam. The L is silent.” He nodded as though this was a universal truth. Erwen frowned. The old man had just pronounced his name “Hu-lawm.” “Mr. Clean, is that you?” Erwen blurted out. Hlam reached out and grasped the ringing bowl, silencing it by clapping it against his rear end. “In a way, young Halfling, yes, we all clean our souls of the dirt and grime that accumulate throughout a lifetime of ill-conceived adventure. And I have been known to clean spirit and mind of all distractions.” He indicated the singing bowl. “Ah! But you were meditating! Allow me to join you.” From the depths of his robe, he produced a beaded prayer mat that he unfurled forcefully with a sound like a fireworks display. Several rows’ worth of loose beads shot out in all directions, clattering down the rocky mountainside noisily. “Ah, inner peace.” Prior Hlam said, sitting crosslegged and giving Erwen a Halfling’s eye view of his undercarriage. “So, you like to swing freely in the wind, eh?” Erwen asked. “Why yes!” Prior Hlam said. “For we all bend like reeds in the wind, but the secret is never to break.” “Right,” Erwen said. “I was just leaving.” He got up and moved to another secluded spot on the slope. No sooner had he closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts, than he smelled a terrible reek like burning manure. He opened his eyes and spied Prior Hlam lighting a foul-smelling stick of incense while kneeling on a slab of rock nearby. “Where were you hiding that incense?” Erwen said, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Nature provides the creative mind with any number of hiding places, young man,” Prior Hlam said, stretching his legs in a yoga pose, his robe flopping open. Erwen again averted his gaze to avoid an eyeful of monk junk. Erwen coughed as the smoke from the incense rolled downhill like a giant’s fart. “Ah, a foul smell assails the nostrils of both the just and unjust,” Hlam called out. “Okay then,” Erwen said, pinching his nose closed. “I’m going to find a place upwind I think.” “Ah, but remember, the sky makes no distinction between east and west,” Hlam replied. “What in the hell is he talking about?” Erwen muttered, picking himself up and walking to a secluded section of mountain. Hlam watched Erwen pick his way along the rocks, an amused expression on his face. Erwen found another secluded space and prepared to meditate further. Suddenly he heard the gargling sound of a man clearing his throat, and then begin to pray in a reedy, nasal glossolalia that set the Halfling’s teeth on edge. Erwen sighed loudly and peeked around the corner. Sure enough, Prior Hlam was just a few feet away, balancing on one leg like a stork, praying loudly. “Ah! There are only two mistakes one can make along the road; not going all the way, and not starting,” Hlam said. “You look as though you’ve been long on the road, my little friend. How may I ease your journey?” “Well, yeah, I have been walking awhile,” Erwen said, eyeing the monk but keeping his gaze above the man’s waistline. “If you are facing in the right direction, all you need to do is keep on walking!” Hlam said. “Your journey has brought you here to this very spot. Why do you suppose that is?” “Um, I dunno, I’ve walked pretty far all over,” Erwen said with a shrug. “But something bothers you, something you have left behind in your travels,” Hlam said intrusively. “Here, there, and everywhere, things lie broken in your wake. Could they be hearts?” Erwen opened his mouth and closed it again. “Remembering a wrong is like swimming with rocks in your pockets,” Hlam said. “Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past.” “Well, I’m going to be slithering along,” Erwen said. He walked away from the monk as fast as his feet could take him. Several minutes later, Erwen found a shallow cave. He sighed happily and scuttled inside. Suddenly before him glowed the coals of a small fire, over which was dangling an ornate kettle on a tripod. The light of the coals illuminated Hlam’s smiling face. “Your troubles can be drained away like a cup of this tea,” Prior Hlam said, waiting patiently for the water to boil. Erwen looked back at the cave mouth and back to the monk. “How did you do that?” Prior Hlam shrugged. “Teachers open the door. You enter by yourself.” Erwen sighed. “Okay, I’ll have some tea.” Prior Hlam performed a soothing tea ceremony that was somewhat compromised by his ungodly body odour in such close quarters. Painfully slowly, he poured the tea into two clay cups. “A jug fills drop by drop,” Hlam winked. Erwen finally had a cup of tea in front of him, and when he sipped it, it was just about the foulest brew he’d ever tasted. “Water which is too pure has no fish,” Hlam said. “Well, then this must be the purest water that a teabag ever sat in,” Erwen said quietly. “Oh wait, this wasn’t my tea leaves, this was my potpourri!” Hlam exclaimed. “Refreshing nonetheless.” “Why are you following me, Hlam?” Erwen asked. “I must confess,” Prior Hlam said with a hint of a blush, “that I find my own meditations improved when those around me are consumed with frustrations and distractions.” “That explains a lot,” Erwen said. “And with you, I have very nearly reached a new plane of enlightenment!” Hlam said with a grin. “Glad I could help, I guess,” Erwen said. “Now that I have attained nirvana, I shall leave you in peace, little one,” Hlam said. He began to loudly collect his things – his rattling beaded rug, his brass kettle, his singing bowl – and pack up for what looked like a long journey. Giving Erwen a nod, he walked away with a sound like an avalanche of wind chimes. In spite of himself, Erwen watched the old monk depart, marching loudly down the mountainside for what seemed like an hour, growing ever smaller. The clanking sounds faded away to serene silence. Erwen let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. He sat back down on a flat rock and closed his eyes. In the distance, the sound of clanking monk equipment began to grow louder. Erwen’s eyes opened. He sighed again. It took almost an hour for Prior Hlam to reach the cave again. “I almost forgot,” Prior Hlam said. “To bless you and your journey, and to welcome you to my home whenever you pass this way again.” “And your home is where?” Erwen asked. Prior Hlam gestured at the mountainside. “Ah,” Erwen said. Prior Hlam turned smartly and clanked away for another hour. His song-like prayers echoed off the mountainside, accompanied by the metallic jumble of his paraphernalia. Erwen seriously considered causing an avalanche, then dismissed the thought. “Stranger!” He called out. “I never got to know your name! Tell me your name so I know where not to travel!” The clanking sound reversed course and after a torturous time, the monk reappeared. “What? Huh? I didn’t catch your question!” Hlam said, cupping a hand to an ear. “Your name?” Erwen repeated. “So sorry, I thought I’d introduced myself. My name is Prior Hlam.” He nodded smartly, and then turned around again. “Prior Hlam?” Erwen repeated. “The L is silent,” Hlam said over his shoulder. “Right,” Erwen said. “Thank you.” Erwen let Hlam get halfway down the mountain, and then shouted out, “Stranger! Where is the L silent?” Hlam climbed back up and spelled his name out for Erwen. “Oh, I see, H – L – A – M.” Erwen said. He really didn’t see. “Very well,” Hlam said. “I wish you all the best in your romantic difficulties, and I know you will find the right solution.” Erwen let him walk for another half hour. “I didn’t say anything to you about romantic difficulties!” Erwen shouted down the mountainside. Hlam returned. “You wear them on the soles of your feet, small one,” he said. “You mark the path of heartbreak with your passing. I do offer relationship counselling, if you’re interested.” “No, no, thank you,” Erwen replied. “Are you sure? I have finagled my way out of many of my own entanglements, don’t you know,” Hlam said with a wink. “For some reason, I actually belive that,” Erwen said. He turned around and sat back down on the rock. “Then I shall leave you with a word of wisdom,” Prior Hlam said. He bent down to whisper in Erwen’s ear.” “This city you so despise, it hangs in the balance, Little One. In my dreams have I seen the All-Seeing Eye, the Devil-Snared Child, An Eye Weeping Gold, and an Impoverished House all seeking the lost gold of a Man Who Would Be King. I have seen Blood in the Sea and yet do I see War in the Woods and Fire in the North. The Three-Eyed Stone remembers. And the journey ends not in a lair of dragons but on a throne splashed in the blood of its pursuers.” Erwen blinked and looked up at the monk. “What did you just say?” Prior Hlam straightened up. “Why, I was just saying that the simplest solution is to pick the fair maiden with the biggest bustline. It’s pretty straightforward.” He turned and walked away. This time, Erwen let him go. “What a strange man,” he said to himself. He turned and saw the seagull perched nearby, staring at him with its stupid eyes. “Jonathan?” Erwen asked. Varien pondered the approaching eclipse. Siegfried’s Speedy Courier had arrived with some intel written by Lady Harianna Hawkwinter concerning persons of interest with fiendish connections in Waterdeep. Nero and Tiberius had arranged for the Dragon Revengers to take a sea route aboard a waiting warship where they would dock at Neverwinter, link up with scouts from the Crystal Cathedral, and venture into Neverwinter Wood to interdict the dread ring. Nero kept Varien apprised of the Revengers’ progress – currently they were just over a day’s sail from Neverwinter, and the Church of Sune in Neverwinter was more than prepared to quarter and supply the unit upon their arrival. Varien continued to pray and train members of the Church of Sune in the meantime. Siegfried attempted to get his bearings as he searched for a likely route to Skullport from his current position deep underground. He looked around for verticality and signs of recent movement. The tunnel that he and Violance stood in was eight feet high and was strewn with debris. It had obviously been burrowed by some sort of burrowing creature, and branched to the west and to the south, and in both directions had broken through into chambers of worked stone. He spied signs of recent movement to the south. Bootprints through the dirt and debris left by the burrowing creature showed west-to-east movement. It looked like something had bashed into the southwest corridor, then backtracked to move south. He decided to see what had caused the creature to backtrack, and moved southwest. He exited the tunnel into a corridor that bore signs of Dwarvish workmanship. There was a door to the north that had been left wide open. The room was full of rubble that looked like it had been brought in by long-vanished dwarven engineers. Piles of broken rocks, some as high as 6 feet, surrounded four 20-foot-long stone tables that stood in the middle of the room. The tables were five feet wide and set three feet high. Siegfried urged Violance to enter the chamber for a closer look, but the nightmare stood fast, shaking his head. There’s trouble , the nightmare hissed. “What’s happening in there?” Siegfried whispered. I smell something. Something Elemental, Violance whispered back. Siegfried withdrew a tin clockwork toy dragon, wound it up, and tossed it into the centre of the room. The gnomish toy righted itself and began sparking, making a tinny noise as it shot sparks from its maw. Smooth as silk and without a sound, a creature emerged from a pile of rubble to investigate. It sported three misshapen legs and three claw-like arms, and its circular mouth ringed with fangs was on the top of its flat torso, facing upwards like a crown of thorns. Questing eyes were spaced in between each expanse of lumpy chest between its arms, affording it a view in three directions. That creature is not of this plane, Violance hissed. In one clenched claw, the creature held a chunk of rock, its surface sparkling with gem dust. It held the rock over its mouth, and from within unfurled a horrid tongue that licked at the chunk of rock, savouring the taste. Satisfied, it tossed the rock aside, and examined the noisemaking toy. Its eye focused on it momentarily, and then it gave a three-shouldered shrug and turned back to the rubble. Siegfried cast Rary’s telepathic bond on the creature. HELLO THERE YOU LOOK LIKE A FINE CONNISSEUR OF MINERALS NOT ONE TO BE SATISFIED BY THE COMMON BARE STONEWORK ONE FINDS DOWN HERE. The creature paused. Huh? It replied. YOU ARE SOMEONE WHO IS LOOKING FOR BETTER ROCKS AND GEAR AM I CORRECT? Who’s in my head? MY NAME IS SIEGFRIED ALAGONDAR AND I AM A PURVEYOR OF BETTER ROCKS AND GEAR. Yes, yes you are, the creature replied. Siegfried withdrew a bag of gemstones from his pack. AS A GIFT OF GREETING I WOULD LIKE TO PRESENT TO YOU ONE FINE ROCK. He tossed the gem over the pile of rocks. The creature’s eye tracked it and the creature caught it with unnerving speed and accuracy and dropped it into its circular mouth. NOW I WOULD LIKE NOTHING MORE THAN TO SUPPLY YOU WITH MORE FINE STONES BUT I AM LOOKING FOR HIGHER QUALITY MEATS, FLESH CREATURES WHO WALK AND TALK AND SCATTER ROCKS AND WHO ARE NOT WILD ABOUT SHARING THOSE HIGH-QUALITY STONES WITH YOU. I WOULD LIKE TO LIBERATE THEM OF THEIR SHINY STONES AND PUT A PORTION OF THOSE STONES INTO YOUR POSSESSION BUT I REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE IN LOCATIONG THEM. The creature stared at the half-orc astride the horse. You speak more words than you need to. There are not many flesh creatures here. I care not for walking flesh. NOR SHOULD YOU THEY’RE ALL QUITE HORRIBLE. BUT I AM WILLING TO PUT YOU IN POSSESSION OF A NUMBER OF HIGH-QUALITY STONES IF YOU WILL HELP ME UNITE WITH THE WALKING FLESH. THAT’s WHERE I WAS MEANT TO GO ANYWAY AND I GOT QUITE LOST. The creature began to make sniffing noises and advanced on Siegfried, who stepped back. You are a source of deliciousness. Turn out your pockets for I am hungry. Siegfried lowered the room by 20 degrees and said, HUNGER CAREFULLY, FRIEND, LEST YOUR EYES FIND SOMETHING YOUR BELLY CAN’T EAT. WE CAN WORK TOGETHER AND I CAN FEED YOU OR YOU CAN TRY AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME AND BECOME A CORPSE. I WILL TREAT YOU AS FAIRLY AS YOU TREAT ME. Feed me, the creature said. Feed me and I shall feed you. The creature pointed all three clawed hands at its maw. Siegfried shook the gems out of the bag and handed them over. The monster quite greedily chomped them down. It belched a cloud of gem dust and patted its belly. Follow, follow, the creature said to him. Siegfried and VIolance followed as the creature led them deeper into the Dwarven ruin with a weird, tri-legged gait, lurching down the corridor, impatiently beckoning with one clawed arm as its other two picked up pieces of rock to sniff and lick.