The Shattering of Glasstaff

The door was forced open, revealing a somber hallway, its flagstone floor covered in thick dust, disturbed here and there by smeared footprints. The stone walls were decorated with faux columns every ten feet or so with sconces holding oil lamps, which cast a wan light that barely held back the darkness. The long hallway terminated in a set of double doors sheathed in copper plate, now green with age. A relief carving of a mournful angel, that several party members recognized as a Seraph of Sune, graced the doors. Ragnar turned to Droop. “What’s down the hallway?” Droop frowned. “The family crypt, Droop thinks.” Emboldened by the copper relief, which he took to be a good omen, Varien strode ahead. Halfway down the hallway, the floor gave way beneath his booted feet. He only just managed to grab the edge of the nearest flagstone as tiles and timber tumbled into a pit that looked to be about twenty feet deep. His companions pulled him to safety. Droop looked embarrassed. “We still friends?” he asked. Varien brushed dust from his shoulders and declined to answer. Regarding the pit that now blocked their path, the more perceptive of the group took note of narrow ledges that ran around the edge close to the stone wall – an easy, if precarious, way to defeat the trap. Varien steadied himself and edged across the ledge successfully. Xylon set out after the paladin, keeping his back to the wall and trying not to look down. His foot slipped, but before he could pitch forward into the pit, Varien grabbed him and pulled him to safety. Erwen scampered across, the ledge being far more accommodating to his small feet. Bob sidled out after the Halfling but lost his balance. In a panic he seized Ragnar to prevent his slide into the pit, nearly dragging them both in. The rogue brushed him off, and the sorcerer had to crawl on his hands and knees to safety. Ragnar smirked and crossed the ledge easily without making a sound. Behind him, the monk walked on his hands, his smirk even larger than the rogue’s. Droop sniffled and slowly picked his way along the edge of the trap. The party assembled before the double doors. The relief carving of the Seraph was expertly done. The Seraphs of Sune were divine handmaidens who eased the passing of the dead through their kind temperament and sensuous appearance. The metalworker who made the copper sheathing had not skimped on any of the details – the Seraph’s mournful expression was enhanced by her shapely curves that took every advantage of all three dimensions, and her diaphanous finery, which left nothing to the imagination. Ragnar’s hands played over the surface of the carving, searching for a locking mechanism or indeed a door handle, which he found in an obvious, if slightly scandalous, location. He suppressed an urge to shiver at the humanoid anatomy lesson he was no doubt intended to receive by the metalworker. “I might need a few moments alone for some quiet reflection,” Xylon whispered as he leered at the Seraph. “Don’t make this weird,” Varien hissed. There was a soft click as the doors unlatched. The doors opened slightly with a soft sigh. Varien felt a thrill, half spiritual and half sensual, as he touched the carving and pushed the doors all the way open. He entered a mausoleum. False columns along the walls were carved in the image of spreading oak trees, their upper limbs stretching to the ceiling where they fanned out overhead. There were three large stone sarcophagi in the dusty crypt, each heavy lid carved to depict the supine form of a human of noble bearing facing up the ceiling decorated in overlapping oak leaves. Here and there against each sarcophagus was propped a human skeleton, clad in bits of rusty mail. Varien heard a sound like a piece of metal being dragged across the stone floor and looked down. At his feet was another skeleton, sitting against the wall, its helmeted head tilted upward to regard Varien with a gaping grin and blank eye sockets. As the paladin watched in sudden horror, red orbs of light began to glow within the sockets of the skeleton, whose jaw began to close. In the crypt, there was a sound of rusty metal screeching on stone as the skeletons, eyes similarly glowing red, began to get to their feet and slowly stumble towards Varien. A chill wind seemed to blow across the paladin’s face, and with it a whispered word… Lorelei… The colour drained from Varien’s face. Again, he heard the whisper, that carried with it memories of dread, memories of death, memories of undeath. His home. Destroyed. His family. Dead. “No,” Varien whispered. “No, no.” He began to shake, fear and rage battling for supremacy within him. How could he explain to his companions the terror of that day, how it had changed the course of his life? The skeleton at Varien’s feet swung a rusty shortsword, which glanced off the paladin’s shield. Behind Varien, Ragnar poked his head in. Seeing the skeleton, the rogue attempted to deftly pluck the glowing orbs from the creature’s eye sockets. His fingers probed the recesses of the animated skeleton’s skull, and Ragnar felt a sharp cold run up his talons and into his hands. The rogue retreated. “Careful, they’re cold inside!” he shouted to his companions. Xylon stood shoulder to shoulder with Varien and cast burning hands at three of the slouching skeletons as they moved inexorably closer. The crypt was suddenly ablaze with arcane fire that lit up the animated undead, burning their bones to ash in a heartbeat. The creatures disintegrated into a pile of scorched chain mail fragments and drifting ash. Varien watched their destruction, transfixed with rage. One skeleton remained, reaching out for the oblivious paladin. Theryn rushed forward, striking the skeleton with his quarterstaff. He shattered the skeleton’s ribcage, and followed through with a chop that broke the undead creature’s jaw in two. Eager to join the battle, Bob cast ray of frost , which coated the skeleton in crippling white ice. The skeleton moaned hoarsely, its movements slowed by the frost. Varien uttered a curse upon the skeletons, their descendants, and the evil that raised them up. He raised his halberd. “I swear to Sune, if this is Glasstaff’s doing he will freeze in Hell. Where there are more, they must all die, they must all die…” he trailed off as he missed the strike. Erwen lashed out with thorn whip , which shattered the skeleton into splinters that rained down onto the stone floor. Bob uttered a quick prayer for Varien’s soul. Ragnar strode into the crypt, grabbing his crowbar, which he used to lever the lid off the first sarcophagus. “What are you doing?” Xylon asked. Ragnar set the lid, carved to depict a noble human female, aside, and rustled around inside, scattering bones and cloth. He came up with a platinum signet ring. “Preventing these heirlooms from falling into the wrong hands, of course.” Varien stared at the Dragonborn Rogue. “You…you would defile…?” Xylon stood nose to nose with Ragnar. “You put that back!” He attempted to snatch the signet ring from the Rogue’s hand. Ragnar made the ring disappear with a flourish. The paladin, wizard, and rogue began arguing over the merits of graverobbing. Bob shook his head and explored the room as his companions’ arguments almost came to blows. There was a door to the north and a door to the east. Bob kicked open the east-facing door. He saw a long room partitioned into three areas, with iron bars walling off the north and south. Filthy straw lined the floor of the cells, the hinged doors of which were secured by chains and padlocks. A heap of discarded clothing was piled carelessly against the far wall. Curious, Bob entered the room. He saw a pair of disheveled human women in the cell to the south, while a human boy was confined to the north. All were dressed in plain grey tunics, and had iron collars fitted around their necks. Bob opened his mouth to speak. He felt a sudden stabbing pain as swords struck out from the shadows to pierce his body and heard dark laughter from the concealed Redbrand guards. Xylon was just about to haul off and hit Ragnar when he heard the sound of Bob’s distress from the next room. He rushed through the door. “What the-” A Redbrand slashed the wizard, cutting into his robes and sending him sprawling. Ragnar shrugged and moved to the north door, poking at the lock. He remembered the key he had lifted from the dead Bugbear, and inserted it in the lock. The door opened easily. He turned to Varien. “Not bad for a burglar, eh?” Deftly avoiding the ruffians, Theryn walked into the room and turned to face the pair of ambushers. "I came here to kick ass and chew gum, and I am all out of gum," the monk said, brandishing his quarterstaff. "Gum? Like, from a tree?" One of the Redbrands asked. "Here, its on the end of my staff," Theryn said. He whipped the staff forward, striking the Redbrand in the chest. He danced inside the Redbrand’s reach and delivered an uppercut to the surprised ruffian, who bit off the end of his tongue as his jaw smashed shut. “Ah, damn it,” Xylon said, leaning against the wall as blood run from the cut on his arm. "This is what happens when we fight amongst ourselves," Bob wheezed, holding his belly wound. The wizard pursed his lips and cast firebolt at the wounded Redbrand, lighting him up. Varien shook his head at Ragnar charged into the melee, swinging his halberd wildly. Ragnar began looting the other sarcophagi, finding identical signet rings amongst the mouldering bones and scraps of silk. Erwen moved up to the doorway and poked his head out enough to see where the Redbrands were hidden. He cast thorn whip and lashed the thug with magical vines. Bob wound up and swung his quarterstaff, breaking the neck of the first Redbrand ambusher, who slumped to the floor. Bob smiled through the pain of his wounds, satisfied that he had accomplished something. The second Redbrand darted for the door, dodging Theryn, Varien, and Erwen before running into the crypt, straight into the welcoming arms of Ragnar. The rogue tackled the Redbrand and pushed him against the wall with his crowbar, pinning him. He smiled very slowly at the thug, peeling his reptilian lips back so that the man could see every one of his sharp teeth. "So, who wants to have a friendly chat with my friendly friends?" Ragnar asked. The Redbrand let go of his sword, which fell to the floor with a clang. The fight over, Xylon turned to the cell holding the two women. One of them was middle-aged, but the second one looked to be about eighteen years of age. "Hey, how's it going?" Xylon asked the teen girl with a wink. The girl cringed and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Oh, for the love of-” Bob hunted through the dead man’s pockets and came up with a key. He opened the cell door and made as if to remove the women’s neck collars. "We mean you no harm," Bob said as the pair shrank back. He unlocked their collars. Free of the collar, the older of the two women rushed to the northern cell, where Varien had just finished opening the door. She embraced the boy, who stared off into the distance dully. Droop crept in and surveyed the scene. “Wow,” the goblin said. “Nice dungeon.” Ragnar pushed the Redbrand into the dungeon and forced him into the now vacated southern cell. Clapping him in irons, the rogue drew a dagger and placed the blade between the first and second knuckle of the Redbrands’ right index finger. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or-” “I’ll talk,” the thug said quickly. Ragnar blinked. “Fine,” he said. Varien loomed over the Redbrand. “Who is your leader?” “That would be Glasstaff,” the Redbrand said. “He’s a wizard.” “I knew it!” Ragnar and Xylon both hissed. Ragnar turned to the thug. “Where is Glasstaff right now?” “I don’t know,” the thug said. “He mostly keeps to his workshop in the western end of our stronghold, unless he wants to give a motivational speech to the whole crew.” “And does he pay you?” The Redbrand nodded. “Someone hired us to frighten off adventurers and intimidate the locals in Phandalin. Glasstaff’s got the goods, but says we can squeeze the town dry to get what we want. Which we’ve been doing.” “Who hired you?” “Someone calling himself the Black Spider,” The ruffian said. “I don’t know anything about him, except that he sent a bunch of nasty bugbears to reinforce us here.” Erwen kicked at the pile of clothes in the corner. There was quite a pile. He turned to the thug. “Have you had other prisoners here before?” The Redbrand looked uncomfortable. “Well, uh, yeah, but-” “They were going to sell us into slavery!” shouted the woman in the northern cell, who looked up from comforting the small boy to stare in fury at the captive Redbrand. Varien looked over at the woman, remembering the conversation at the Stonehill Inn. “You must be the woodcutter’s wife.” “His widow,” the woman said, tears spilling unbidden down her cheeks. “I’m Mirna Dendrar and these are my children, Nars and Nilsa.” “Very sorry for your loss,” Ragnar said. Xylon straightened up. “I will escort these good people back to town.” Bob sighed. “I’ll go, too. "It's our duty as adventurers." Mirna dried her eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving us,” she said. “But there might be a way. My family comes from a village nearby called Thundertree. We had to flee the village when it was overrun by the undead.” At this, Varien perked up his ears. “We didn’t have time to grab anything valuable,” Mirna continued. “My family ran an herbalist shop in town, and my father kept an heirloom hidden beneath a floorboard. I’ve never dared to go retrieve it; Thundertree’s still a dangerous place. But if you go there, look in the southeast section of town for our shop, and you’ll find your reward there.” “Ma’am,” Bob pledged, “we will travel to Thundertree and retrieve your family heirloom, but it will be our gift to you.” Mirna smiled again as the tears began to flow anew. “Thank you.” Xylon and Bob escorted Mirna, Nilsa and Nars out of the jail. “Wait,” Ragnar said. “We should check with the nothic before walking them out.” The rogue backtracked to the nothic’s cave. “Ahem,” he said to the darkness. “Listen, we’re still good for moving through your domain, right?” From inside his head he heard, Yes, a deal for passage has been struck. A deal for passage will be honoured. Yes, deal… “Right.” Ragnar said. He signalled to the wizard and sorcerer. “Okay, bring them through, but tell them to shut their eyes.” While the group tended to their wounds and waited for Xylon and Bob to return, they continued to question the Redbrand. “What about that drow that was with a bunch of you yesterday?” The Redbrand frowned. “I think the drow works for the Black Spider. Running messages back and forth.” “Back and forth to where?” “The Black Spider has a deal with us, but also with the Cragmaw tribe of goblins out in the bush,” the Redbrand said. “We don’t know where the Cragmaw are based, but it’s close enough that they can threaten the town. Without us and our deal with the Black Spider, the goblins would probably have sacked Phandalin by now.” “So you’re in luck,” Ragnar told the Redbrand after Xylon and Bob returned. “Sit here and behave yourself and we’ll tell the townsfolk you cooperated with us and helped rid Phandalin of the Redbrand threat.” “That’s fine,” the ruffian said. The group filed out, except for Erwen, who picked through the pile of clothing until he found something that would fit – an outfit sized for a human child. He rolled it up and put it in his pack. “Dude, that’s pretty grim,” The Redbrand said to the druid. The adventurers filed into the north hallway and found another door facing east. Ragnar used the key on it and pushed it open. It was an armory. Racks of weapons lined the walls of the chamber, including spears, swords, crossbows, and bolts. A dozen dirty red cloaks hung from hooks by the door. Ragnar whistled. “Looks like the Redbrands were planning something big.” Varien picked up a longsword and swung it experimentally. The group began grabbing crossbows, bolts, and other items. "Hey, the town is going to need provisions after we have gone," Varien said. Ragnar nodded. “There’s more here than we can possibly use. I see no problem aiding in the town’s defense.” Erwen leaned against a wall in the hallway and was surprised to feel it give way. A secret door opened silently, revealing an alcove that featured dressed stone block walls and a flagstone floor. The south end of the chamber opened out into the nothic’s cavern. Several barrels were stored against the walls here, along with a number of empty crates, straw for packing, hammers, pry bars and nails. Beyond the edge of the finished chamber, they could smell the fetid air of the nothic’s crevasse and hear the sound of chewing from the darkness. “Well, this would have been convenient a few minutes ago,” Theryn said. “How did we not know this was here?” Erwen shrugged. Now that they had a good idea of where Glasstaff’s chambers could be found, the party moved swiftly. Retracing their earlier steps, they found themselves at a locked door. Varien listened at the door. He could hear the sounds of bubbling and dripping from the other side. “Sounds like a wizard at work,” he hissed to the rest of the group, who prepared themselves for a confrontation. They eased the door open and entered what appeared to be a wizard’s workshop. There was a large worktable set up with alembics, retorts, distillation coils, and other alchemical devices, all of it stewing and bubbling away. Bookshelves along the walls were crowded with sheaves of parchment and strange-looking tomes. A large rat squeaked and scurried beneath the worktable. Erwen spied the rat and shouted, his instincts taking over. His shout turned into the howl of a wolf as he wildshaped into the form of a dire wolf. He lunged at the rat, diving beneath the worktable. His jaws snapped closed on the tiny rodent, which disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Erwen-Wolf knocked the worktable askew, sending flasks to the floor and causing brimming tubes to overflow, hissing and sizzling. “Dammit!” Xylon shouted. “Don’t mess with that!” He grabbed for what looked like three potions that were stoppered and curing near the table’s edge. He was sure they would come in handy. The wizard cast detect magic and felt a strong aura of abjuration magic both from the workshop and from the room next door. He indicated the door on the east side of the room. Erwen-Wolf bounded ahead and broke down the door, snarling. The room was unoccupied, its walls covered with drapes of scarlet cloth. Furnishings included a small writing desk with matching chair, a comfortable bed, and a wooden chest at the bed’s foot. Erwen-Wolf glanced around quickly and took note of a small door, made to look like part of the wall, sliding silently closed. He howled and squeezed into the small gap, discovering a set of stairs leading upward, which he took five at a time. Xylon ran by the desk, grabbing an important-looking journal as he did so.Ragnar followed closely behind, picking up a sheaf of paper from the desk and jamming it in his carryall. The rest of the party rushed up the stairs in pursuit. The secret door let out into the nothic’s cavern through the finished storage area. In the middle of the cavern stood a short, black-bearded human male clad in a scarlet robe. He wore a princely mantle of ermine that framed his features. In his gloved hands he brandished a beautiful glass staff. “Welcome, gentlemen, to my underground lair,” said the man. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, as I was unable to provide you with suitable entertainment. I trust my men did not inconvenience you too much in your travels.” "You want an inconvenience? Just talk to my ex-wife!" Theryn shouted. "Indeed,” Glasstaff said. “Now, I am going to ask you nicely to leave. You have one chance to depart my home while you still draw breath." None of the adventurers showed signs of backing off. "Very well!” Glasstaff shouted. His staff glowed for a white-hot instant and the wizard cast magic missile , targeting Xylon, Varien, and the Erwen-Wolf. Then, Glasstaff disappeared in a swirl of black mist, and reappeared in the southern edge of the cavern. Xylon felt the magical dart strike home and smiled grimly. Two could play that game, he thought. Erwen-Wolf shrugged off the missile. Varien rocked back on his heels, but remained on his feet. Before the party could act, Bob, Xylon and Erwen-Wolf felt invisible blades pierce their bodies. Evil laughter echoed throughout the cavern. Theryn rushed across the bridge at the northern end of the cavern and was shocked to find himself stopped by an invisible force that proceeded to stab something metallic and sharp into his stomach. Gasping in pain, the monk pivoted and focused on the blank space in front of him. He swung his staff and was rewarded with a sharp crack as it struck something cloaked by magical invisibility. Ragnar cast hex on the wizard. Glasstaff’s face contorted in pain and confusion. “That was unexpected,” he blurted out, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind. “But it is nothing of importance.” Ragnar ran to the southern end of the chasm, leaping across the ruins of the southern bridge. He miscalculated and almost fell into the crevasse, catching himself at the last moment on the cliff’s edge. He pulled himself up painfully and got to his feet, chest heaving with exertion. “Going,” the rogue breathed heavily, “somewhere?” he said to the evil mage. Erwen-Wolf roared and jumped the chasm, landing ahead of Theryn. He could smell the man standing there even if he couldn't see him. His jaws closed on something soft, which gave way with a bloody burst as he applied pressure. He heard a bubbling scream as he began shaking his shaggy head back and forth. Blood began to spatter on the ground and on Theryn’s surprised face. The body of a dead Redbrand suddenly materialized between Erwen-Wolf’s bloody jaws. Xylon unstoppered the potion of invisibility he had found in the oilcloth sack and drank it. He then pulled out a second vial, picked up from the wizard’s workbench, and forced it between Varien’s lips. The paladin was surprised as he felt an invisible flask pouring invisible liquid into his mouth. “Don’t worry, it’s just me,” Xylon whispered in his ear. Varien was suddenly very dizzy and felt weakness spreading throughout his body. “I think you just poisoned me!” He hissed at the invisible wizard. “Whoops!” Xylon said. “Perhaps that potion needed a little more time to cure.” Bob turned and stabbed at his invisible assailant, miraculously connecting. He was rewarded with a grunt and a curse. Varien ignored his invisible companion and stumbled forward towards the south end of the cavern, casting bless on himself, Theryn, and Xylon. Spying Glasstaff’s new location, he cast compel duel on the evil wizard. “This is between you and me now,” he shouted at Glasstaff. Glasstaff’s eyes clouded over as he glared at the paladin, suddenly transfixed. “You’re next,” he shouted at Varien, his eyes fixed on him as he strode forward, heedless of the rogue’s glittering eyes and heavy crowbar just outside of melee range. “Don’t hit him or you’ll break his compulsion,” Varien said to Ragnar. “Let him come to me! He can’t help himself!” Glasstaff reached out, a frost bolt arcing towards Varien. Then he disappeared again in a flash of mist, appearing before the paladin. Theryn moved back off the bridge to help Bob, who was faltering under the invisible Redbrand’s swordplay. Het let Varien’s bless guide his strike as he swung his quarterstaff, hitting the hidden thug. Ragnar reached into his pouch and threw a handful of steel ball bearings onto the cavern floor before him, hoping to thwart any additional hidden Redbrand that might be sneaking about the cave. He moved back across the bridge towards Glasstaff. Xylon pulled out a dagger and stabbed where he thought a Redbrand might be. Erwen-Wolf dropped the dead Redbrand and leaped back across the bridge, intent on saving his friends. Bob groaned as another invisible blade struck home. He swung his quarterstaff again, this time missing. Theryn felt a blade slash across his chest and fought to hold in a blasphemous outburst. Varien cast thunderous smite and opened himself up to Sune’s divine energy, readying a divine strike with his halberd. He planted his feet and swung the halberd at Glasstaff. His blow connected, and the cavern again shook with a sound of thunder, shifting the ground beneath their feet and sending pebbles raining down from above. His halberd’s blade glowed with radiant energy as it struck home, knocking the evil mage off his feet and sending him sliding on his back across the cavern floor. Glasstaff struck the wall of the cavern as he hurtled backward, the wind knocked from his lungs. Leaning on his glass staff, the wizard got to his feet, his eyes sharper than ever. “Well, well,” he said, gathering his strength. “You are worthy opponents indeed. Deserving of a worthy response.” His free hand began to sketch an arcane symbol as the evil mage concentrated. “From the fountains of the deep, I call forth water !” The cavern began to shake, and a strong odor of seawater filled the room. What is this? What is happening? The adventurers heard the nothic’s cries in their heads. Suddenly, from the depths of the crevasse came a torrent of water, spinning like a waterspout as it reached the cavern’s roof. Within the watery vortex they could see the flailing limbs of the nothic, and they heard its panicked burbling. The waterspout reversed direction, funnelling downwards directly onto Varien. The paladin held his ground as the magical wave washed over him. The wall of water rushed past the paladin and swept up Xylon and Erwen-Wolf, dashing the wizard against a stone pillar and knocking the wildshaped druid off his four legs. Xylon’s head slammed against the rock and he felt a blinding pain, and then nothing. As the water drained back into the crevasse, a third body appeared – the dead, drowned form of a Rebrand ruffian, his invisibility broken along with his body. Theryn whirled his quarterstaff and struck the invisible Redbrand thug. There was a savage cracking sound, and then a dead ruffian materialized before the monk before falling to a boneless heap on the ground. Ragnar swung his crowbar and hit Glasstaff, whose staff glowed as an arcane shield materialized before him. “Varien!” Bob shouted as he slogged his way through the draining water. He knelt at the prone wizard’s side, unsure of what to do. He gripped his holy symbol and prayed. Erwen-Wolf got to his feet and shook the water from his shaggy hide. He shaped back into his Halfling form and rifled through Xylon’s potion bag. “There must be a healing potion in here,” he said, grabbing an unmarked vial. “Here!” Erwen pulled out the stopper and poured the liquid down Xylon’s throat to no effect. “Huh,” the druid said. Glasstaff spun his staff and struck at Ragnar with it. He then teleported across the cavern. “This has been most entertaining, but now I must take my leave,” Glasstaff shouted, and turned to run away through the tunnel. “Not so fast,” Theryn shouted, running after the mage as fast as he could. He caught up to the wizard in the tunnel and swung his quarterstaff at the retreating mage’s feet, tripping him up. He focused his ki energy and unleashed a flurry of blows that impacted against Glasstaff’s arcane shield. Ragnar followed Theryn into the tunnel. He opened his mouth, inhaled, and then unleashed his breath weapon, wreathing Glasstaff in a halo of lightning. The mage screamed in agony and slumped back, smoke curling from his robes. Erwen rushed forward and cast ice knife at long range. The glowing shard missed the wizard, but exploded nearby, peppering Glasstaff and Theryn with icy shrapnel. “Thanks for slowing him down,” Ragnar said, turning to Theryn. He was surprised to see the monk down on the ground, shards of ice sticking out of his chest. “Enough!” Glasstaff shouted, dropping to one knee. He held up the glass staff to the rogue. “I surrender. Spare my life, and your generosity will be rewarded in kind." Varien joined Ragnar in the tunnel, stepping over Theryn’s body. The paladin stood over Glasstaff, a look of dark righteousness on his face. “If you animate the dead, you can join them!” Varien snarled, and ran the mage through with his halberd. Ragnar and Glasstaff couldn’t believe what they were seeing. “I claim vengeance for all those you wronged today,” the paladin said. "You fools," Glasstaff spit as blood coursed from his mouth. "The Black Spider will avenge...me..." He fell back against the tunnel wall, dead. It was now Ragnar’s turn to stare aghast at Varien. The paladin looked at the rogue and shrugged. "He animated the dead. There could be no mercy." Ragnar shook his head at Varien. "And you're supposed to be better." He walked away, leaving Varien alone with two corpses. Xylon, sensing that loot was available, suddenly snapped back to life. He coughed out a lungful of water and lurched to his feet, stumbling into the tunnel where he grabbed the dead wizard's glass staff before Bob could get his hands on it. Varien averted his eyes from Glasstaff's corpse and knelt, laying his hands on Theryn’s body, reviving the monk with his healing touch.