Foreshadowing\Back-Story

Foreshadowing\Backstory 1 (Between Session 11 and 12) Tessa Wright looked outside the window of her room to the south, and sighed. She had finally stopped crying, and was now wondering how she would ask for time away from her studies. She had never told Master Ravenwood about Randal back home. She knew that Master Ravenwood would understand, but she still hesitated to ask. She knew that Master Ravenwood had been going through a hard time recently, though she wasn’t sure why. But she knew that working with her had helped keep his mind off of whatever was bothering him. If she left, he wouldn't have anyone around until she returned. “Then again,” Tessa thought, “he is an elf, and a few weeks might not even mean anything to him.” But that felt like a bad excuse to her. She looked down at the letter in her hand. She had read it at least 20 times now, but the news was now starting to sink in. She couldn’t think of what to do, so she read the letter again. Dear Tessa, I apologize for not writing for the last few weeks, but I have some bad news. Randal’s group had heard about an attack in the mine that I told you about a few letters ago. Randal went in to help stem the menace, you know how he is. If someone is in trouble, Randal is there to help. That was a month and a half ago. We know that the mine and miners is okay, Gundren continues to keep in touch with Phandalin. The cave closed behind Randal, and he hasn't been heard of since. I know that Master Ravenwood keeps you busy, but we are going to hold a service for Randal, as well as the rest of the Heroes of Phandalin in a few weeks. People wanted to give them up to two months to make it out. Although there is little hope now. They didn’t bring much rations and again, the entrance to the cave they went down seemed to have sealed itself. We believe that Randal is dead. Phandalin has cause to morn the loss of the Heroes of Phandalin. The newly built Temple of Torm was going to look to Urist for guidance, but with him gone, people are starting to not worship in the new temple. However, Aram (the wizard I wrote to you about when we were having problems with the Red Brand menace), and I are feeling it the most. Aram's sister Amara went down with Urist, Randal and Devrett into the cavern. Nars is still shocked that Randal is gone. He thought Randal was invincible. I hope you will be able to make it down for the service, I know Randal means a lot to you still, or you wouldn't have requested that I keep tabs on him for you. Nilsa would also like to see you. She, like you, is studying magic, under Aram no less. Although he has been less inclined to teach her lately, and more inclined to stick to his duties as the town librarian, ever since he learned of Amara's fate. I still remember when Randal pulled you from the wreckage of your home when the earthquake hit. For the longest time, he talked of nothing but you. You were special to him, and I know he is special to you too. I look forward to seeing you, and I’m sorry I had to tell you this way. Mirna Reading it again sent her back into a fit of tears. Randal was supposed to be there when she went home. She was alternating between sadness and frustration, even anger at Randal for dying before she could see him again. To show him that she could be strong like him, just in a different way. Tessa conjured up a small ball of fire, and flung it at her table in frustration. The fire hit the table, leaving a small scorch mark, and Tessa sank back down to her knees to weep again. She struggled to get up, resolved to tell Master Ravenwood the next day, and went to bed, crying herself to sleep, clutching the letter. The next morning, Tessa woke up, feeling much better, although still more hollow than normal. She opened up her the drawer on her desk, and took out a small box. She opened the box to reveal a stack of letters that Mirna had been writing her. Mirna had helped Tessa keep tabs on her family and friends, but mostly on Randal. She put the newest letter on top, and put the box away. She strode from her room to seek Master Ravenwood’s approval for some time to head back to Phandalin.

Foreshadowing\Back-story 2 (Between Sessions 12 and 13) You don't live for several hundred years practicing necromancy without an lot of bodies to experiment on. However, you don't find a lot of bodies when living alone in Neverwinter forest. For this reason, Zelmar had developed a spell that allows him to find corpses within one hundred miles him. He would cast his spell at least once a week, but tried to cast it more often. He was frequently disappointed in how little corpses there were. The Neverwinter Woods used to be filled with travellers, villagers, adventures and lumber-workers. Over the last hundred years or so, the amount of humanoid death near him had slowed down. Zelmar ended his trance on the 7th day of Tarsaskh. He stretched as he got up, and grabbed his staff. He crossed his house, and went down into his basement. He headed down to his study, and began going over his research. Zelmar was recently approached by a man by the name of Karth. Karth had talked with Zelmar about providing the City of Luskan an army of undead. Luskan had decided that they wanted to unite the Sword Coast, either by diplomacy or force. Their first target was Neverwinter, and King Nasher had already made it clear that they would not go easily into Luskan rule. Taking Neverwinter was primary to Luskan's goal, as they location meant they would have an well established military outpost. However, Luskan would not be able to take Neverwinter by force easily, as the City could easily fortify and last for months, even years under siege if it had to. Karth had heard about Zelmar from an old manuscript, and sought him out for his Necromantic powers. Karth had a plan to take Neverwinter, and he was going to need a lot of expendable soldiers. Karth had explained his plan to Zelmar, and offered a very handsome reward for his services. Karth had offered Zelmar several magical items in exchange for his help, knowing that gold coin would be no good to a Necromancer who lived alone. Zelmar was intrigued, and talked about his methods. Since then, Zelmar had travelled to Luskan a number of times to meet with Karth, a spy by the name of Llarm Nightblossom, and several other key members of Luskan's operation to unite sword coast. Zelmar was invited to join them, but declined a position, and requested that he simply be a consultant to the operation. It was when Zelmar had explained his research into creating undead creatures that maintained their intelligence and grace of their past life, but still mindlessly followed orders, that the group became very interested. When Zelmar had left Luskan, the entire group, minus Llarm, had promised whatever support they could give for Zelmar's research. Zelmar had ran into a problem. Corpses that he had been getting were not very intelligent, or graceful. He was pretty sure that he could finish the ritual, if he just had a good corpse. He let out a long sigh, shut the book, and put it away. He walked to the back of his lab, where he had set-up a magic circle for his ritual. He took a handful of powdered bone, stood in the circle, and threw the powder into the air. He closed his eyes as the powder slowly descended, and after a while, when the powder had settled, Zelmar caught a glimpse of everything within one hundred miles that had died, and the location. As his mind wandered on a few animals, a couple of goblins, and even an owl bear, one thing caught his attention. In the ruins of Cragmaw castle, only about forty miles or so away, he saw a number of hobgoblins, a grick, scores of goblins, a drow, a bugbear and an elf. This was unmistakably a battle site, and battles meant... Zelmar smiled at his luck. He left hastily. Just outside of his hut, he summoned a skeletal steed, and rode fast towards Cragmaw, wanting the bodies as fresh as they could be. Almost two hours later, his twisted joy was at it's peak. Not just for the number of corpses, but how fresh they were too. They couldn't have been older than a day. He summoned a cart, as well as a servant, and began to load bodies into it. If he thought he was happy before, he never could have been prepared for the best surprise. He had found a grave had been dug for one of the bodies. He knew right away that this must have been the grave for someone important. After digging up the elven body, he inspected it. She looked strangely familiar, but he couldn't put his foot on it. After a few minutes of muling it over, he cast a spell to allow him to speak with the dead. The eyes of the dead elf filled with a dark light, and moving very little except her head, looked over at Zelmar. "What happened here?" Zelmar asked. "We came to rescue Gundren." the elf replied. "Who is Gundren?" Zelmar asked. "Our patron for our journey." the elf replied again. "You said our patron, who is the rest of your group?" "Urist, Aram, Belloq and I." Zelmar considered these names for a moment, but couldn't not recall them as anyone of importance. "Where are you from?" "Neverwinter." "What is your name?" "Lelias Nightblossom." As the light faded from the eyes of the elven warrior, Zelmar considered what he had heard, but he was stuck on one name from all of them. Nightblossom. Zelmar couldn't help but laugh out loud at his luck.

Foreshadowing\Back-story 3 (Between Sessions 13 and 14) Aram woke up on morning of Hammer the 1st feeling that today would be different. It was the first day of a new year. The party that was held in Phandalin last night kept him up, but he didn't mind. He had stopped doing the research he promised Urist he would do late last night, and felt he had good information for him, and now he was researching ways to get the information to Urist quickly. Aram got up, and headed downstairs. Nilsa Dendrar was already there. She was reading a book and studying the hand placement for a burning hands spell. She looked up when Aram entered the room, and stood up to bow. "Happy New Year, Master Aram" she greeted. "As usual, just Aram my dear." came the same response he gave every time. "Master Aram, I think I found a spell that could help you get your research to Urist this morning." Nilsa explained quickly, seeming proud of herself. "Oh? And what spell is that my dear?" Aram asked, nonplussed. "There is a spell called the Magic Mouth spell. It seems that we can attach a message to a location, and have it delivered when Urist comes near." Nilsa said, turning to the page containing instructions for the magic mouth spell in the book she was reading. "We would just need some jade dust and a bit of honeycomb." "Alas, and we would also need to know where Urist is likely to be, and be within thirty feet of it when I cast the spell. Also, it meets with the same difficulty of the other spell I am researching has, which is a limited number of words to speak. Urist needs to know the whole story to get a sense of danger, and I'm afraid that twenty five words just isn't enough." Aram replied. Nilsa looked dejected at the fact that her idea didn't work. Aram noticed her forlorn look, and quickly added "but very good job researching on your own. You really will be a powerful caster with your determination." This quick reply seemed to cheer Nilsa up. "What other spell were you researching?" Nilsa asked, "The other one with a word limit?" "Oh, it's a spell of sending. The components to cast the spell are not expensive, but the twenty five word limit is restrictive. Alas, I only have the power to cast it once any given day. It would take several weeks to get the information to him." "Why don't you just ask him to hurry home?" Nilsa asked, simply. This statement looked like the words punched Aram. It was so obvious now that Nilsa had said them, why didn't he think of them before. "Nilsa, that is a brilliant idea. It is so simple, why didn't I think of that! Urist is bound to be nearby, and if he hurried home we could pass on our research in just a few short minutes in person!" Aram seemed excited now. He needed to make sure Urist knew what he was up against and as quick as possible. He looked over at Nilsa, who was looking at him expectantly. "Nilsa, my dear, get paper, quill and ink. Let's you and I sit down to write out this message to get to our friends. Remember, we only have twenty five words to work with." Nilsa stood up from her chair, and started running around his shop to grab the items requested. When she had it all, she brought them back to the desk that Aram had sat down at. She handed the items to Aram, and sat down next to him. "What should it say, Master Aram?" she asked. Aram grabbed some parchment, and chewed on the end of his quill for a second, thinking. Then he dipped his quill into the ink bottle, and put it to the parchment. "Well, let's start writing, and see what we get, why don't you write your own version? Two heads are better than one, they say." Nilsa nodded, and grabbed parchment and a quill for herself. As she was reaching for it, Aram added "And please, just Aram my dear."

Foreshadowing\Back-story 4 (Between Sessions 14 and 15) The sun was now starting to set on a particularly cold day in Neverwinter. High Cleric Kenday was sitting in his study, pouring over volumes of reports by the fire, to keep warm. The High Cleric had not been searching for anything in particular, but simply trying to keep up on current events. Kenday had been the High Cleric for almost forty years, but these days he had been having a hard time keeping up on events from the Tormtar alone, never mind the rest of the Churches in the surrounding areas. Kenday looked outside of a Window, and watched a few youths huddled in the street, trying to keep warm. As important as current events were, Kenday’s kindness got the better of him. He stood up to go offer the youths a warm place to stay. As he started to cross his room, a knock came at his door. Only one person could be knocking this time at night, and Kenday did not want to deal with him at the moment. “Sir, are you there?” came the voice of Acolyte Bann. Kenday knew that Bann was ambitious to a fault. That instead of helping others, he climbed on their backs to get to where he wanted to be. Any other High Priest would have kicked him from the Clergy long ago, but Kenday believed that he would be a fine priest one day, and that Bann just needed to see things from other peoples perspective. If he could just get Bann to focus his energy on helping people, instead of himself… “Sir?” Bann called again. “Come in Bann.” Kenday responded. Bann entered the room. “Sir, I have a report on Urist.” Bann started immediately. Kenday noted that he didn’t bother with any pleasantries. Something else to talk to him about. “Bann, did you know that, among Torm's followers, we have two active war priests named Bacca Yaro?” Kenday asked half trying to postpone the conversation, and half hoping his story would help Bann see the points he was planning on making. Kenday knew this conversation on Urist was coming, because he did keep up on current events. “Bacca isn’t a common name, and nor is Yaro. I think the name is from Kara-Tor? Regardless, it’s odd that we have two with the same odd first and last names.” “Sir I…” Bann attempted to interrupt Kenday. “What’s also odd, is the circumstances regarding their method of spreading the word of Torm. The first Bacca Yaro, from Waterdeep, left his church feeling betrayed by local Clergy. It is said that this Bacca has his own keep, which he keeps an unofficial church, not unlike Urist’s church you are trying to talk to me about. This Bacca is said to be traveling with a paladin of Torm, as well as a famous footpad. He continues to fight the good fight, and spread the word in his own, very effective way.” “Sir…” Bann attempted again. “The other, from Cormyr, also has left the local Clergy. It seems that he was helping the Purple Dragons in a local war with Gnolls, when a commanding officer asked him to abandon the churches tenants in order to save soldiers at the cost of innocents. Another circumstance where our warrior class priest felt betrayed. It is said that this Bacca has been traveling the realms with one of Torm’s paladins, and a warrior of immense stature, continuing to spread the word, and routing evil when he can, because it’s the right thing to do.” “This…” Bann attempted yet again. “Do you not find it odd these circumstances? Two priests with the same name both feel betrayed, both leave the official church, both travel with a Paladin level clergyman, both wandering the realms continuing to fight Torm’s fight, despite past wrongs?” “This is all well and good sir, but about Urist’s request for his gathering to be made official?” “About his new temple? The one in Phandalin?” Kenday asked, slightly defeated that Bann didn’t care for his story. “Yes sir, he still hasn’t finished all the paperwork to make it an official place of worship. It’s still considered a simple gathering, however reports say that the temple is above size for…” but Bann was cut off. “Just make it official, don’t wait for the paperwork.” Kenday had cut across Bann. “But sir!” Bann started to protest. “Bann, I know all the ramifications that not finishing paperwork can lead to, but you are missing the larger picture. Not all members of the Clergy sit in temples, studying, healing, and guiding all day. Many of our Clergy are warriors, just as Urist is. It is rare for one of Torm’s War Priests to found temples in his name. It’s rarer still when they have time to fuss about paperwork. Have you read all the reports on Urist?” “I have sir.” Bann replied, a hint of anxiousness in his voice. “Then you should well know that he is out there almost daily to keep safe the lives of the people of Phandalin and the surrounding areas, much like both Bacca Yaro’s, and a large handful of our other clergy. Did you know that Urist even thwarted a plot to overthrow Neverwinter.” Kenday continued. “We can’t expect people to have the time to do the same thing we do. We live in our temple, and our downtime can be used to do the paperwork we live by. People like Urist live day to day on the ground, not knowing when he is going to have a warm meal and roof over his head. His downtime is better spent sharpening his sword, and banging dents out of his armor, so he might live to do his work another day.” Kenday was feeling very bothered by Bann’s lack of empathy for the warriors who did Torm’s work. “But sir, if we don’t have the right paperwork in place…” Bann continued. “Bann, I know…” Kenday interrupted him again with an exasperated sigh. But he suddenly had an idea. “Actually, if you are so worried about paperwork, why don’t you go to the new Temple and assist Urist in filling it out?” Kenday smiled at Bann. Bann looked shocked. “You want me to go out to Phandalin, and fill out the paperwork for Urist?” “You are the one most worried about it, are you not?” Bann had a look of consideration on his face for a moment, then smiled. “Yes, I am, and this will allow the paperwork to be filled correctly. How long is the journey?” “Phandalin is about three days, assuming no trouble and a horse.” Bann was starting to look excited. “Very well, I make arrangements to leave at the start of next Tenday.” Bann gave a short bow and left. Kenday sighed again. Bann had a lot of potential, but he was just so inwardly focused. Kenday felt a little bad for getting defensive with Bann right away, but he was in no mood to deal with his selfishness. Kenday remembered the day he appointed Urist to the priesthood. Urist had approached Kenday to become a priest shortly after Kenday was appointed to High Cleric. Kenday hated to have to turn him down, but he just didn’t feel Torm’s influence. He kept Urist on as a groundskeeper for almost forty years. Every year, Urist applied to be a priest, and every year, Kenday had to turn him down. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was stopping him. One day, the same day that Urist would ask to be a priest again in fact, several acolytes had taken real swords to practice away from the official training grounds. In an accident, one of the acolytes, a promising young recruit by the name of Jenner, was grievously injured, and on the verge of dying. Urist was the closest nearby, and sprang into action. Urist said it was almost instinct that he bent low over the dying youth, and cast a spell to cure wounds as if he had known it all along. That day, Kenday knew that Torm had kept Ursit on as groundskeeper to save Jenner. Jenner had gone on to do fantastic work for the downtrodden of Neverwinter, and his endless compassion was infectious. Kenday had no doubt in his mind that if Jenner had perished that day, Neverwinter would have been a much more dismal place. Urist had already had some training as a warrior before he was a groundskeeper, and so Urist was quick to become a warrior class priest, and quicker still to get out of training. Kenday had recommended him to his friend, Gundren Rockseeker, who needed guards for a caravan. Partly because he knew Urist would do good, and partly to get Urist out in the world after 40 years as a grounds keeper. Kenday sat down, but stood up again when he remembered the youths outside. He wrapped himself up in a second cloak, grabbed a few blankets and a loaf of bread, and headed outside to help the youths. Good deeds always made Kenday feel better.

Foreshadowing\Back-story 4.1 (Also between Sessions 14 and 15) "I have news Zelmar." a voice hissed out of the darkness. "Unless it is of the upmost importance, do not bother me". Zelmar said back to the voice, without turning to face it. His concentration was on the runes in front of him. "Your apprentice, Alepur, is dead" the voice hissed back to him. "Unfortunate", Zelmar replied without a hint of pity in his voice. "I believe the people who killed him are here for you." the voice continued. "Let them come, I am prepared." Zelmar still didn't look away from the runes. "I should warn you. The dwarf, he wields a weapon of immense power over your undead minions." "It won't be a problem." "I hope your confidence holds this strong when they get down here." "If they get down here" "Very well, if they get down here." "Do you think me unprepared?" Zelmar finally looked up from the runes, and over toward the shadows where a vampire was standing. "Knowledge is power. Prepared or not, the more you know, the better off you will be." the vampire replied. "If you destroy the dwarf, please set the weapon aside for me. Our boss requires it." the vampire stated. "Your boss" Zelmar retorted, going back to his runes. "Right, right." the vampire said with a hint of sarcasm. "Well, I've said my piece, once the sun goes down, I'm going to sneak out of here to deliver my reports. "You aren't going to stay to fight?" Zelmar queried. "Why bother? You seem to have this under control." the vampire didn't even try to hide his sarcasm this time. Zelmar didn't even seemed phased by this. A few moments passed in silence, as the vampire watched Zelmar look over the runes, documenting and translating the runes. Without saying anything, the vampire suddenly got up, and left the room. Zelmar waited until he was sure he was gone, then he stopped pretending to struggle with the runes, and pulled out his real documentation, and proceeded to work on his research at a much faster rate. "I should have this portal opened in a day or two at this rate" Zelmar thought to himself. He gave a short, mirthless laugh outloud.

Foreshadowing\Back-story 4 (After Hiatus) Aram was pacing in his study, trying to clear his thoughts of his sister. He was trying to concentrate on work. "Lessons are planned... My research on Lightbringer met with a dead end, maybe I can write a letter to someone in Neverwinter... Forge of Souls... hmmm..." He thought to himself, trying to find something to do. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Nilsa burst in. "Aram!" she shouted. "I think I've found something to do about the Forge of Souls!" "Oh?" Aram asked, somewhat distractedly. "A letter that I wrote to a cleric in Leilon, and he has returned it with haste." she explained. "I wrote to clerics in Neverwinter, Leilon and Conyberry, and the clerics in Lelion responded, with an urgent summons." Aram suddenly looked interested. "What did you write them about?" "I wrote about how the energies in the Forge of Souls died with the Shadowfell portal, and to see if they saw anything interesting too. The clerics of Lelion wrote back. They are worried that some magical protections surrounding an ancient artifact might be lowered, caused by the same thing!" "Ancient artifact?" Aram asked. "I don't have the whole story, but I guess long ago a Wizard named Damara held an Orb of Dragonkind. Orcs, and goblins went to war with him for it. Twenty years ago, Damara was defeated, but before he succumbed to death, he crawled into his own tomb he dug beforehand, and sealed it with his remaining magic. The clerics said there has been sightings of Orcs and goblins around that area, and fear that they may have also detected a weakening in magic around the area, and are resuming their search for the orb." "Curious. I wonder." Aram bemused. "I would like your permission to go investigate." Nilsa reported. "I... what?" Aram said with some confusion. "I would like to go make sure the seal is intact. I did some research. A horrible ogre named Bonegnasher was the one who succeed in killing Damara, and made it very much known that he was upset that he lost the Orb. Apparently, he is poking around the area trying to find and gain access to Damara's tomb, assuming the protection is down. I think we need to make sure the protection is up, and if it isn't, stop him from finding the orb." "I would... feel better if you had a guard." "Yes, but I want to leave right away. Leilon is just an afternoons travel, I can rest there and get to Damara's stronghold tomorrow. If I put together guards, or wait for my uncle and his friends, I might not get there for days, and then it might be too late. I'll be careful, only scouting... I know the Invisibility spell!" Nilsa tried to sound confident. Aram thought for a long while. "Very well, who were you working with in Leilon?" "A priest named Hrask". "Very well, have Hrask keep me posted in your findings. If I don't hear from you in two days time, I'll send assistance." "Thank you Mast..." "Just Aram dear." "Thank you Aram, I won't disappoint you." With that, Nilsa packed her things, and started to head towards the Triboar trail. Aram, however, was left to wonder what this had to do with the Forge of Souls...

Foreshadowing\Back-story 5 (Between Sessions 15 and 16) "Damn!" Damara announced as he retreated to a fairly freshly dug, yet unfinished tomb. His head and stomach were bleeding profusely, and he walked with a nasty limp, each step bringing more pain. Damara had seen it coming, but he wasn't ready for it. He knew he was getting on in age, but he thought he had more time. He had begun to dig his own tomb a few months prior, but wanted it a grand thing. Now it was a half-finished castle with a small dirt catacomb. His tomb wasn't even grand. They were still digging it out, and the stone throne wasn't all the way chiseled. Still, when a nasty ogre beats you and all of your guard, you make due with what you have, and this tomb is what Damara had. He knew that if Bonegnasher got his hand on the orb, all of the sword coast would be in trouble. He had the orb on him, as he was still trying to figure out all of it's secrets when Bonegnasher attacked. His guards bought him enough time to escape, but his injuries were dire, and he had no knowledge of healing magics. He knew his time was short, and wanted to make sure the orb was buried with him. He had researched this spell ahead of time. He created a key in the shape of a flute, so that if lost, his tomb could be found. This key was given to his apprentice, and sent off to the world before Bonegnasher got to Damara's tomb. Darmara knew this was the end, and he was going to make it as hard for Bonegnasher as he could. Summoning the last of his energy, he started to collapse sections of his tomb around him, as he walked to his stone throne. Upon entering the room of his stone throne, he cast the spell he had researched so long ago. Damara sat at his half finished throne, and thought about his defenses. First, someone would have to know he had the orb. Only a small number of people knew, including Bonegnasher and that Lance of Leion, Hrask. Hopefully, Bonegnasher didn't spread the word around. Second, they would have to find his castle. It was off all beaten roads, so they would have to know where it is. Bonegnasher was able to find it though, so it might not be safe that way. Then, they would have to deal with his defenses. Any wizard worth his salt would have some defenses around the keep. However, Bonegnasher proved that his magic creatures were no match, soon his keep would be overflowing with Bonegnashers soliders. But now, they would have to dig his tomb out. Damara estimated he brought down enough earth around his tomb that it would keep Bonegnasher busy for a while, but figured that the orgre wouldn't give up. Besides, he could force orcs, goblins, hobgoblins and lizardmen to do the digging for him. And finally, they would need possess the flute-key. Which, if his apprentice did good, should be far away by now. Damara looked around. He was on his last legs, and everything was going dark. He decided to cast one last spell. Sitting up strait, and putting the orb in his hand, he cast his final defense, then slipped into darkness.

Foreshadowing\Back-story 5 (Between Sessions 16 and 17) Bonegnasher sat in a dingy room, with his two direwolves. He was tired, and he was staring down at a small key, that was in the shape of a flute. He had taken it from the corpse of a powerful wizard he had killed several weeks ago. A powerful wizard that several years ago was an apprentice to Demara. Bonegnasher was sure that blowing the flute part of the key would help him find the orb, but he wasn't sure how. Although smarter than most Ogres, this still stumped him. Besides, the key was so small, he couldn't blow it. He could risk giving it to one of his soldiers. But he didn't trust them enough. Bonegnasher suddenly sat up. It sounded like there was some fighting nearby. He waited for a moment, and the fighting stopped as quickly as it started. One of his soldiers must have forgotten about the Carion Crawler guarding the treasure. Bonegnasher went back to staring at the key. He was so close...