Dawn broke in Phandalin. The morning’s mist lay
heavy over the fields outside of town, broken here and there by tall trees or
the skeletal protrusions of Phandalin’s ruined perimeter. To the east,
Tresendar Manor seemed to float above a sea of mist.
Erwen was sitting down to a hearty breakfast with
Qelline and Carp, a little tired and sore after a night half spent in the barn
trying to train Who, and half spent in Qelline’s bed, where he was still
getting some training of his own.
“So, New Dad,” Carp said around a mouthful of eggs.
“What’s that big monster you’ve got locked up in the barn?”
Qelline stabbed a knife through the piece of
toast she was buttering. “What!?” she glared at Erwen.
Erwen, a man of few words at the best of times
but even fewer in the morning, kept his head down and shoveled more food into
his mouth.
Alec relished the opportunity to sleep in an
actual bed and not a tick-ridden forest floor or fetid goblin den for once, and
caught up on some much-needed rest.
Varien
blinked awake. The ruby rose was still there on his pillow, still gleaming with
life. As he donned his armor he pondered the rose. He took it with him as he
left his room and went downstairs, finding a free table in the Stonehill Inn’s
common room.
Bob
emerged from his room, feeling like he had the mother of all frogs caught in
his throat.
He
came downstairs and spied Varien.
“Hey
Varien, ornla wux hefoc ekess lehhav darastrix chess?” he said, pointing at the
dragon chessboard.
Varien
smiled and nodded, taking the sorcerer’s meaning.
Toblen Stonehill prepared their breakfasts in the
kitchen.
“I’ve got something new for you to try out,”
Stonehill called out. “It’s sort of a flatbread smothered in a tomato sauce
with a heap of vegetables and meat scattered on top.”
Bob coughed and cleared his throat, and tried to
speak in Common again. “Woo!” He said hoarsely. “That was…freaky.”
Varien smiled and checkmated Bob.
In his room, Theryn was contemplating the
question he wished to ask the sun elf statue. The smell of breakfast from
downstairs began to intrude upon his meditation, so he wrapped the small golden
statuette up in its crimson cloth and went to find some nourishment.
As the other party members began to arrive and
take their seats at the table, Varien was lost in thought about Sune’s message
to him during his evening prayers the night before.
He made a decision. “I suppose it’s time to make
amends with that scoundrel Ragnar,” Varien said to Bob. “What he did was not
all right, but it's okay.”
Varien went upstairs to Ragnar’s room and knocked
on the door. There was no answer. Varien tried again, to no avail. He shrugged
and returned to his seat as Toblen brought out a platter of flatbreads.
“I’m thinking of calling this concoction pizza,”
Toblen said. “Because you eat it a piece
atta time! Get it?”
Bob groaned. That sounded like a Ragnar joke. He
picked up a slice of the flatbread to be nice and was pleasantly surprised by
its deliciousness.
Xylon emerged from his chambers and came
downstairs, a lecherous grin on his face.
“What’s with the smile?” Bob said as the wizard
joined them.
Seconds later Elsa flounced downstairs as well,
blushing a bright shade of red. She rushed into the kitchen to help Toblen
serve breakfast to the ragged morning crowd.
Bob lost his appetite.
Xylon’s smirk widened.
Gundren dropped in as the party finished off a
second pizza. He was dressed in sturdy miner’s gear and carried a nasty-looking
pick across his back.
“Aye there, laddies,” he said, already drinking
beer from a large stein. “Are ye ready to go yet? I’ll be at Barthen’s
Provisions supervising the loadout for our journey. Drop by when you’re ready.
Our ‘fortune’ awaits, if ye get my meaning.”
Theryn looked around at the other patrons
suspiciously but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He wished Gundren
would show a little more discretion.
“Well then,” Varien said, grabbing the last slice
of pizza. “Let’s be off.”
The party made their way to Barthen’s Provisions.
Barthen and his two clerks were finishing loading up the wagon, which some of
the party recognized as the same one they had driven down from Neverwinter.
Gundren shouted orders at the trader
good-naturedly, taking long drafts from his mug of frothy beer.
Sildar Hallwinter was there too, resplendent in
polished chain mail with his sword at his side. Varien wondered if he’d had
Harbin Wester clean his armor for him.
“What
brings you by?” Varien asked Sildar.
Sildar smiled. "Gundren and I are friends,
and I wouldn't miss seeing him, and you, off on your journey. You’ve done many
great works for Phandalin these past few days, and I hope your tradition continues!”
Erwen climbed a drainpipe and let himself into
the barn’s hayloft. He didn’t want to chance opening the barn doors until he
was sure that Who was docile enough to be trusted.
Who had eaten most of the hay in the barn it
seemed, having converted much of it to manure overnight. The Owlbear was
sniffing about, alerted to Erwen’s presence.
The Halfling hopped down before the Owlbear and
cast animal friendship .
In a commanding voice he said, “We are friends,”
and began to climb Who’s muscular flank, careful not to pull out too many
feathers as he did so.
The owlbear growled and shook his shoulders,
flinging Erwen halfway across the barn, where he landed in a pile of hay.
Erwen got to his feet and stood his ground as Who
lumbered towards him. Spying a nearby bucket of water, he cast watershape and launched a stream
directly into the owlbear’s face. Who stopped, sputtering, shaking his
feathered mane back and forth.
Erwen walked right up to the Owlbear’s beak and
tapped it. "Be...my...friend." he said firmly.
Who wouldn’t meet his eyes and instead pawed at
the barn floor.
“That’s better,” Erwen said, and nimbly climbed
up onto Who’s back after unlatching the barn doors. “Now, let’s ride.”
He decided to ride Who through town. What could
go wrong?
Everything was going well until a woman holding a
basket of folded laundry caught sight of the Owlbear lumbering up the road from
the Alderleaf Farm.
She screamed bloody murder, tossing her clean
laundry into the air as she ran for her life.
Erwen brought Who to a halt. The owlbear sniffed
the clothes that were now strewn across the muddy road.
“Oh hey, it’s the seamstress’s,” Erwen said as he
recognized the building he’d stopped in front of. He hopped down and turned to
Who, who was eating a pair of bloomers.
“Stay,” he said firmly.
Who gave a noncommittal grunt and threw up the
bloomers.
Erwen stepped into the seamstress’s shop.
“Who’s there?” a voice called from behind the
counter.
“It’s me Erwen,” Erwen said. “I’m here for my
bearskin cape.”
The seamstress poked her head out from behind the
counter nervously. She looked over Erwen’s head out the front window of her
shop.
Who was tearing apart another pair of bloomers in
the middle of the street.
“What is that th-thing?” she asked.
Erwen shrugged. “That’s just my ride.”
The seamstress found a parcel with Erwen’s name
on it. She shoved it across the counter and then retreated into the back of her
shop.
Erwen shrugged again and mounted up.
Varien and Sildar were making small talk when the
sound of screaming and yelling reached their ears.
South of where they were standing, at Phandalin’s
main intersection, they could see a crowd of townspeople running for their
lives.
"What the devil!" Sildar shouted, hand
on his sword hilt.
The owlbear bounded into the town square, tearing
up sod with its beak and bellowing mightily.
"No worries, our friend Erwen riding that
Owlbear.”
Erwen rolls up. "Morning, Gundren, Sildar,"
he said.
"Oh, aye, same to you," Gundren says.
Sildar frowned. “In future, could you not ride
that beast through the middle of town?”
Erwen shrugged.
“How is Who doing?” Bob asked Erwen.
“Who?” Erwen replied.
“You know, Who!” Bob said.
“Who are we talking about now?” Gundren said.
“Who is fine,” Erwen said, patting the owlbear’s
head.
Sildar frowned.
Bob looked around as Who began eating the flowers
planted in front of Barthen’s Provisions. Ragnar had still not shown up that
morning.
Bob frowned and walked back to the Stonehill Inn.
He mounted the stairs and knocked smartly on Ragnar’s door.
There was no answer.
Bob went downstairs and found Elsa. “Did you see
Ragnar leave this morning?”
Elsa smiled brightly. “Sorry sir, I didn’t really
see much of anything this morning, because Xylon and-”
“That’s more information than I need, thanks!”
Bob said. He sighed and walked back upstairs. He stood in front of the door and
tried the handle.
The door creaked open.
Bob stepped through the threshold warily.
Ragnar’s room was empty save for a parcel bound with twine, on top of which was
pinned a note.
Bob looked over the note. There was a
pleasant-looking elvish script that illuminated the borders of the note, but
the note itself was written in a strange language.
Bob took a closer look. To his eyes, the strange
markings began to crawl, reshaping themselves into characters and symbols that
he could actually interpret.
It came to him that the note was written in
Draconic. It read:
Bob
Don't
tell Varien but I'm pretty sure he's about to cut my head off. More
importantly, and more secretly, they found my Son.
The
Drendars have poisoned a dagger for Black Spider.
Speaking
of Xylon, I left the gold in his ladyboy armour when I took my lock-picking
brick back while he was snoring in the vicarage.
I'm
leaving Gobbo the goggles, Shortarse the battering ram, and you my favourite
crowbar. Take care of Ravenclaw for me, she won't do you wrong.
About
those dreams you've been having, I remember my clan chief telling me about men
with dragonfire in their blood. Our hairy cousins, he called them. Next time
you're in Baldur's Gate, seek out Skyhavoc Daedrar and don't mention my name.
Oh,
right. Theryn gets my ten-foot stick and Varien a couple of posters, left them
on the bed. Had a great plan to ruin the fatass townmaster and get Varien elected,
but I guess that ain't happening. Xylon gets nothing because I put the stupid
rings back like he wanted.
Give
the hand crossbow to your brother if he wants it. Or don't. I'm not your
mother. Probably. Fire a couple rounds into Xylon's leg next time you're in a
fight, it'll be hilarious.
You
better not be translating this, but you were always my favourite. I'll buy you
a drink if we ever meet up again.
I
hope we do.
Ragnar
Meseeks
Bob sighed a heavy sigh and folded the note up.
He picked up the sack of goods at the foot of the bed.
He left the inn and asked directions to the
Dendrar’s shop. He found Mirna there setting up alchemical instruments.
“Ragnar sent me to retrieve an item from you. He
said you’d know what I was talking about.”
Mirna nodded and retrieved a dagger from a desk
drawn. Its surface was covered in a green, scaly coating that looked like
tarnished copper. She set the blade down carefully on the countertop.
“Don’t cut yourself on this blade,” she warned.
“Happy hunting.”
“I’ll do my best,” Bob said.
He sheathed the dagger, hefted his pack, and
rejoined the party outside Barthen’s Provisions.
“Ragnar is gone,” He told the group. “But he left
us a note written in Draconic.”
“What do you mean, gone?” Xylon said.
“Gone,” Bob said.
"This is all my fault," Varien said.
"But I prayed to Sune last night, and heard her voice, saying: everyone is
nice, enjoy the time you have with them."
“Oh no, our money!” Xylon shouted.
“It’s not your fault,” Bob said to Varien.
"According to this note, they found his son. I am assuming he has gone off
to rescue him. He left our gold in Xylon's armor. He told me stuff about my
dreams.”
“What?” Xylon said. “Ragnar had a son?”
Erwen began sprouting flowers.
“He left a few things behind for us,” Bob
explained, opening the pack. “The portable ram goes to Erwen. The 10-foot pole
is Theryn’s. Alec gets the Drow’s hand crossbow. The goggles, well, I think
we’ll keep the goggles instead of giving them to our goblin friend. I get to
keep his favourite crowbar.” He hefted the crowbar and gave it an experimental
swing.
“What do I get?” Xylon said impatiently.
“Ragnar said that since he put those platinum
rings back in the crypts in Tresendar Manor, the two of you were square.”
“Let me see that note!” Xylon said. He tore it
from Bob’s hands. His elvish features twisted in thwarted fury. “Hey!” He
pointed to the Elvish script running along the borders of the note. “This just
says ‘dick,’ over and over and over again in Elvish!” Xylon turned his head
skyward and shook his fist. “Ragnar!”
He stalked off towards the Shrine of Luck.
“There was something else,” Bob said to Varien.
“He said he’d been working on these election posters for you.” He handed the
paladin a roll of parchment.
Varien unrolled the poster. He saw a stylized
drawing of himself holding Talon skyward in a regal pose meant to inspire the
reader. In finely scripted lettering, the poster read. “VARIEN AETHER. FOR
PHANDALIN. FOR TOWNMASTER.”
“Damn, he was going to make you make Phandalin
great again,” Theryn said.
Sildar frowned as he looked over Varien’s
shoulder at the election poster.
“Maybe we should go to Baldur’s Gate and help
Ragnar save his son,” Bob said to Varien.
Varien shook his head. “Baldur’s Gate is very far
from here,” he said. “We should stay on task and go to Wave Echo Cave.
“I agree! While this is all very interesting,”
Gundren said, rubbing his hands impatiently. “We really should be going.”
Erwen whispered in Who’s ear.
The owlbear seized Sildar in his beak and made as
if to hoist him onto his back. Sildar shouted in surprise, kicking his arms and
legs uselessly.
“I’m not going with you!” Sildar shouted.
“Oh,” Erwen said. He whispered into Who’s ear
again.
The owlbear spat Sildar out, who landed in a heap
of saliva and dirty laundry.
“I’ll ride with you, Erwen,” Bob said, climbing
up onto Who’s back. “I have a lot to think about.”
Xylon soon returned carrying a chest full of
treasure. “Looks like it’s all here, surprisingly.”
“Shall we?” Erwen said, digging his heels into
Who’s shoulders. The owlbear began lumbering north.
Varien mounted his horse as Theryn, Xylon, and
Alec got into Gundren’s cart.
“Aye then, off we go!” Gundren said. To Theryn,
who was riding shotgun, he said. “Would ye mind refilling me pint?” and handed
the monk his beer stein. To Varien he shouted, “And where’s me map? I’m going
to need it to navigate.”
Varien trotted over and handed the map case over
to the dwarf.
Picking himself off the ground, Sildar waved
goodbye, a shellshocked expression on his face.
The strange caravan wound its way into the
foothills to the northeast of Phandalin, leaving the treed farmland behind. The
trail outside of town soon dwindled to a deeply rutted miner’s track, with the
occasional mule tracks indicating that a cart had been driven through some time
ago.
Ahead of them, the Sword Mountains gathered, with
the tallest mountain, Icespire Peak, seeming to pierce the very sky over
Faerun.
Bob pondered what Ragnar had written to him about
his dreams.
Gundren drank a steady stream of beer from the
keg nestled amid the goods on his cart, and sang bawdy tunes when he wasn’t
cursing the map for being too vague.
“Ah
yes, it was just over a month ago when me and me brothers were prospecting in
the hills outside of town,” Gundren said as Theryn, Xylon, and Alec helped push
the wagon out of a stretch of mud. “We were searching for platinum, y’know, but
we always had an ear to the ground for an even bigger score. I mean, we’d all
heard the legends.”
“So
we found a crack in a mountainside we did, and me and me brothers took a peek
inside. There was a natural cavern, nothing too surprising, a good place to
make camp actually. So we dug a couple of exploratory tunnels, and that’s when
it happened.”
“What
happened?” Alec asked.
“One
swing of a pickaxe, and suddenly we were standing in an ancient dwarven mine,
that’s what happened! At first we thought we’d found an old stronghold from
ages past, or maybe a king’s hidden redoubt, but as we were arguing, that’s
when we heard it.”
“Heard
what?” Theryn asked.
“The
echoes of waves!” Gundren laughed. “Imagine it, b’y. One minute yer scratching
out a living from the rock, and the next, you’ve stepped through into legend
and glory! We’d stumbled on Wave Echo Cave, after countless other prospectors,
adventurers, and explores had failed. It was the find of a lifetime.”
“Hmmm,”
Xylon said.
“So
I left me brothers to guard our discovery, and I went to register a claim at
the Miner’s Exchange in Phandalin. Then it was up to Neverwinter to gather more
supplies so we could explore and exploit the mine properly, and that's where
the rest of you came in.” He poured himself another glass of beer.
“Boy,
all this hard work is making me thirsty,” he said, draining his glass in a
gulp.
The
three adventurers grunted and heaved the cart out of the mud.
Hours
later, as the midday sun beat down, the terrain grew more rocky. Varien’s steed
began picking its footing more carefully, and Gundren kept barking orders at
Alec and Xylon to make sure the wagon’s load didn’t shift too much while
negotiating steep inclines.
Alec
was atop the wagon’s load of goods, helping to secure some hempen netting over
the crates and casks, when he spied a figure walking in the distance.
One
hill over, the woman who called herself Radegast De’ath was striding
confidently in exactly the wrong direction. Just
over the next rise, that’s when I’ll see it , she told herself for the
fifteenth time. I studied that map on the
wall of Lamashan’s study for hours.
Radegast’s
keen ears, slightly pointed in a way that would reveal her half-Elf ancestry to
a discerning eye, picked up a sound behind her. She turned about and squinted
into the distance.
“Is
that…?” a childlike grin spread across her face. “Is that a bear riding an
Owlbear?” She laughed and began running towards the source of the noise.
“Someone’s
out there,” Alec said.
“Here,
off the trail, in the mountains?” Bob said.
Alec
pointed.
Bob
turned and look. Sure enough, there was someone. Running full-tilt towards
them.
“Erwen,
I think we should-” He almost fell off the Owlbear as Who let out a roar and
started charging towards the newcomer.
“Is
that a…woman?” Xylon said.
Radegast
ran until the owlbear was almost bearing down on her, and nimbly skidded to a
halt on the uneven ground, rolling aside as the creature stumbled over her.
“Whoa!”
Erwen shouted, pulling feathers from the owlbear’s back. Who stopped short.
The
Halfling jumped down, cape flowing after him. Sitting beneath the Owlbear was a
brunette half-elf, wearing studded armor over a flowing blouse. Shield, bow and
lute were strapped to her back.
“Hi,
I’m Erwen,” he said to the stranger.
The
woman crawled out from underneath the Owlbear.
“I
thought you were a small bear,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Riding this
Owlbear!” She turned to take in the rest of the party, who had gathered warily
behind Who. “Oh, hello!”
“Who
are you?” Bob asked. He had a nasty feeling this was some kind of trick.
The
woman half bowed, half curtsied. “My name is Radegast De’ath,” she said.
“That
doesn’t sound like an Elf name,” Varien said, climbing off his horse.
“It’s
Elvish enough,” Radegast snapped. “What’s your name, idiot?”
“What are you doing out here?” Bob asked, frowning.
“Well,
I was curious about how a small bear could have tamed and ridden an Owlbear.
Might write a song or two about it,” Radegast said.
Xylon
stepped forward. “Hey, how you doin?” He said in Elvish.
“I
mean,” Bob said. “Where did you come from?”
“Where
am I from?” Radegast repeated. “Well, lately of Silverymoon, but I am heading
south.”
“I’m
pretty sure you were heading north,” Varien said.
“What
are you talking about?” Radegast said. “That’s south!” She pointed in a
westerly direction.
“I’m
pretty sure Radegast isn’t a woman’s name,” Bob said.
Erwen
sprouted a flower and handed it to Radegast shyly.
“No,
that’s south!” Varien said, pointing in the opposite direction. “Gundren, give
us the map and I’ll set this person straight.”
Gundren
handed the map down to Varien.
Radegast
sidled up and took a look at the map. Though well drawn, it was a cruder
version than the one she’d studied at the College, but she quickly identified
enough landmarks to recognize the locale.
“Wait
a minute,” she said. “Is this a map to Wave Echo Cave?”
Bob’s
hand strayed towards his dagger.
“Wait,
what?” Varien said, eyeing Radegast. “How do you…?”
“Well,
look, there’s Icespire Peak, Old Owl Well, Wyvern Tor, and any number of clues.
If I recall my Dwarven lore correctly, the mine of the Phandelver’s Pact would
likely be located in this region right about here,” she pointed a finger to the
X where Gundren had marked the location of the map. “Of course, the precise
location of the mine was lost 500 years ago, so you would have to do a little
exploratory-”
“Well
lassie, where were you when generation after generation of explorer went blind
in these hills looking for it?” Gundren laughed.
“Well,
obviously they didn’t have the benefits of a classical education,” Radegast
said. She thought for a moment and then her smile widened even further. “You
boys are well armed. Is there going to be a fight at Wave Echo Cave?”
“There
may be a fight right here in a minute,” Alec muttered just loudly enough for
Bob to hear. Bob nodded. He didn’t trust this woman one bit.
“Well
now, I-” Varien started. Bob grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away.
“What
are you doing?” Bob hissed at Varien. “That woman is either Ragnar in disguise,
or she’s working for the Black Spider!”
“I’ve
got this,” Varien said, shrugging off Bob’s arm. To Radegast he said, “and why
would there need to be violence at the cave?”
“Well,”
Radegast said. “Good versus evil is always a reason for violence to ensue.”
Varien
smiled “Oh, I like this woman. She has a strong moral sense of right and
wrong.”
Bob’s
frown deepened. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re really doing here in the
middle of nowhere, Radegast ?”
“Well,
Phandalin is a ways to the east towards Neverwinter, if I recall. And I am
heading south towards Evereska.”
“I
think you’re lost,” Varien said. “Phandalin and Neverwinter are to the west,
not the east. And nevertheless, we should be on our way.”
“Wait,”
Radegast said. “Are you going to fight some villains?”
“You
could say that,” Varien said.
“Well
then,” Radegast said. “I just happen to be the Archest Archer of Silverymoon.
Would you like a hand in taking evil down a peg?”
“What
does that even mean?” Bob asked in exasperation.
“It
means I’m good with a bow, dummy.” Radegast said.
Bob
pulled Varien aside again. “Varien, either she’s stupid or she’s working for
the Black Spider. She knows way too much to be out here coincidentally. We
should just leave her here.”
“What
I’m going to do,” Varien said, “Is breathe a quick, silent prayer.” He
retrieved the ruby rose from a pocket and showed it to Bob.
“Look,”
he said, indicating the rose. “Sune gave this to me last night, the same night
she told me to be friendly to people, and what happens today?” He pointed to
Radegast. “There she is.”
“But-”
Bob protested.
Varien
tapped the rose against Bob’s face. “Bob, Bob, Bob. Ye of little faith.”
He
turned to Radegast. “Sure, you can join us.”
Theryn
had been standing there quietly, leaning on his staff. He figured Radegast was
on the level.
So
did Erwen, who climbed back aboard Who.
Bob
figured it had to be a ruse. Ragnar had used some sort of glamour on himself to
disguise his true form from the rest of the party, maybe out of shame, or maybe
out of something more nefarious.
He
strode over to Radegast and reached out. His hand passed through where he
thought he would hit Ragnar’s 300-pound form, and wound up touching the woman
someplace warm.
“Hey!”
Radegast said, twisting out of Bob’s grasp.
Bob’s
eyes narrowed. “I’m watching you,” he said to Radegast, and then climbed up
onto Who.
Erwen
was glaring at him.
“What?” Bob said. “Xylon does it all the time, so why can’t I?”
“This
person needs to be punched,” Alec said under his breath.
“Who,
the woman or your brother?” Theryn whispered.
Radegast
deftly climbed up onto Who. Erwen invitingly patted a spot next to where he was
sitting. Bob fixed Radegast with a death glare.
“You
look like you're going to murder some bad people,” Radegast said. “Killing bad
people, that's what I’m about. Yep, I’m ready to shoot some bad guys.”
Bob
snorted and dismounted.
Erwen
used druidcraft to make Who smell
like fresh flowers. “I guess the stinky guy is gone, he said, making Radegast
laugh.
“Pretty
sure I’m not the one who slept in a barn last night!” Bob shouted. He climbed
into Gundren’s wagon. The caravan got moving again.
“Welcome
aboard!” Gundren said. “Why don’t ye take the first swig from that keg next to
the one I just finished there? You look like you could use one.”
“Thanks
but I don’t drink,” Bob said.
The
wagon shuddered to a halt. Gundren turned on Bob and stared disbelievingly at
him. “What did you say?” He hissed.
“I,
uh,” Bob said.
Gundren
got to his feet and seemed to tower over Bob. “This here is my wagon, and no
passenger of mine refuses a drink when one is offered in my wagon! You sit on
your ass, you raise a glass, y’here me?”
“I hear you,” Bob said, and hopped down.
“Hop
aboard,” Varien said, and pulled Bob up onto his mount.
Radegast was already chatting with Erwen about
local wildlife. “Say, this Owlbear is something, I’ve never seen one tamed
before!”
Bob sulked and couldn’t help but notice Xylon
casting lusty looks over at the newcomer when he thought nobody was looking.
“Hey Xylon,” Bob said loudly, “How was Elsa doing
this morning?”
“Shut up, Bob,” Xylon replied.
Gradually the terrain grew steeper, and even Who
had a tough time finding footing.
Gundren led the caravan into a deep valley, the
wagon leaning precariously from side to side with each oxen’s step. The floor
of the valley was choked with gravel, stones and boulders. To the party’s eyes,
it looked like a mountain had been pulverized and thrown down to its roots, as
though a great force had smashed it to smithereens.
“Ah yes, we thought it was the mother of all
rockslides,” Gundren said. “Or an earthquake. Just you wait and see.”
The valley began to level out, and the Sword
Mountains loomed overhead, craggy peaks blotting out the sun.
At
the base of the valley, Gundren guided them around an enormous boulder that
dwarfed even the Owlbear. He reared up on the cart’s buckboard and pointed
towards a small cleft in the mountainside. “We’re here.”
The
cleft in the rocks was deceptively narrow – between the shape of the rock face
and the shadows cast by the boulder, all but the keenest eyes might have missed
it. However, it was wide enough for mounts and vehicles to enter.
“Careful
now,” Gundren said. “My brothers may be standing guard.” He led the oxen into
the darkness.
The
party followed into the rocky tunnel.
The entrance tunnel led into a large-cavern
supported by a natural pillar of rock and that also contained three
stalagmites. The cavern’s ceiling was at least 30 feet overhead, and many
stalactites hung there like the teeth of a waiting predator.
Theryn lit a torch and began to explore.
In the western part of the cave, behind the
column of rock, were three bedrolls and a heap of ordinary supplies-sacks of
flour, bags of salt, casks of salted meat, lanterns, flasks of lamp oil,
pickaxes, shovels, and other gear.
Gundren directed the wagon around the north side
of the rocky pillar. “Keep an ear out, lads and lassie,” he said.
“For what?” Varien asked.
Suddenly, from deep within the cavern, came the
faraway boom of crashing waves.
“That,” said Gundren with a grin.
Amid the supplies, Theryn saw the body of a dwarf
miner, dead for at least a week.
“Damn,” He said to himself.
Suddenly he was aware of Gundren, standing at his
shoulder.
“Oh no,” the dwarf said softly. “That’s me
brother, Tharden.”
Erwen felt Who being drawn by the stench of meat
towards the body of the dwarf and thought it probably wouldn’t be prudent to
let the Owlbear feed. He spied a pyramid of casks that smelled of salted pork,
and guided Who in that direction.
The Owlbear’s beak cracked open the first cask
and Who began eating the cask, barrel staves and all.
Gundren’s eyes welled up and a wail of grief
escaped his lips.
“Ah, not Tharden, not me brother,” Gundren
dropped to his knees and clasped the body of his dead brother to his chest,
heedless of the smell. “They killed you where you slept didn't they, oh blast
it, I should have been here to protect you.”
The stalwart dwarf wept openly.
A sympathetic tear ran down Erwen’s face.
Radegast pulled out her lute and began to play
softly, a Dwarven dirge.
Theryn decided that Gundren’s tears were real. He
walked to the cart, filled a beer stein and handed it to Gundren. "The
tide of sorrow is often quenched by another tide,” He said softly.
Gundren drained the beer and without looking at
Theryn held out the mug for a refill.
“And where’s me baby brother Nundro?” Gundren
wailed. “Oh, what have they done to you boys?” He wiped his eyes with his beard
and honked his nose in a handkerchief.
Getting to his feet, he turned to the
adventurers, fire in his eyes. “If you find the bastard who did this to my
brother, you lay him out dead, and I’ll bump your share of the mine’s profits
up to 10 percent.”
The dwarf grabbed a pickaxe. “I’m going to stay
here and return my brother to the earth in the proper fashion. May Dumathoin
guide you to victory.”
Her tune finished, Radegast took a quick look
around at the disturbed encampment. She surmised that a group of humanoids had
surprised two dwarves, killing one and dragging the other away towards the
rope.
Varien whispered a prayer over the body of the
fallen dwarf. “Let’s avenge Gundren’s brother, shall we?” he said.
The northeastern section of the cavern had
collapsed, forming a ten-foot-wide, twenty-foot-deep pit. A sturdy hemp rope
was tied off around a nearby stalagmite and dangled down the side of the pit, at
the bottom of which were rough-hewn tunnels heading northwest and east.
Varien picked up the rope, yanked on it to test
its strength, and abseiled over the side of the cliff. Almost immediately, he
lost his grip and tumbled to the cavern floor, bruising himself on the rocky
ground.
Bob leaned over the edge. “Nothing ventured,
nothing gained,” he said, and grabbed the rope. He swung over the edge and
gracelessly banged into the rock walls a few times before landing on his feet
at the bottom.
Erwen led Who to the edge of the cliff. A
strange, faraway look came over the Owlbear’s eyes, and he spread his limbs out
as if he was about to fly. The fly was more like a feathery glide with a rough
landing.
Xylon also hit the wall on the way down.
Theryn used his slow fall ability, floating
slowly to the bottom of the pit. Varien glared at him for making it look so
easy.
Radegast nimbly climbed down the rope.
“Which way?” Varien said. There were tunnels to
the northwest and to the east.
The echoing sound of crashing waves boomed again,
coming from the north-northeast direction. The adventurers could all feel a
slight breeze, as if air was being funneled deeper into the cavern from the
outside.
“Let the Owlbear decide,” Erwen said.
Who sniffed the air, and lumbered to the north,
squeezing into the exploratory tunnel. The rest of the party followed.
They found themselves in a maze of dwarven mining
tunnels. Space was tight – the tunnels were no more than six feet high. The
area consisted of numerous intersecting passages, some of which ended in
partially excavated rock faces.
Radegast grabbed her quiver of arrows. “Anyone
got a light?” she asked.
Varien took her meaning and cast light on a fistful of arrows. Radegast
began shooting them down the tunnels, illuminating them for the benefit of
Alec, Varien, and Theryn.
With Erwen and Who in the lead, the party fell in
behind Varien, and Xylon brought up the rear.
The party crept down tunnel after tunnel, trying
to move in a northeasterly direction whenever possible. The air in this section
of the mine tasted somewhat caustic.
Every few minutes, the booming of waves would
echo down the mining tunnels. Erwen spurred Who on.
The party had just passed a dark side tunnel when
Xylon heard something from the passage. It was a sucking noise.
“Guys, I think something’s down here,” Xylon
said. He squinted, his darkvision revealing many shades of grey. And one part
of the tunnel was a shade darker.
Something lashed out from the darkness at Xylon,
who yelped.
Alec and Bob turned back at the sound of Xylon’s
raised alarm. Varien, Theryn and Radegast were a little further ahead.
Erwen and Who pressed on to the north.
“What the hell is it?” Alec said, grabbing his
halberd.
“I don't know,” Xylon said, exhaling sharply. “It’s
like a blob of jelly!”
Alec looked at Xylon.
Xylon rolled his eyes. “A big blob, okay?”
“Right,” Alec said, spying the slithering
creature in the side tunnel. “Take this!”
He swung his halberd, slicing the jelly in two.
Both halves of the jelly froze for a second, and
then began moving independently.
“Huh,” Theryn said as he turned the corner to
witness the creature’s bifurcation.
The first of the two ooze-creatures flailed a
sticky pseudopod at Xylon, who ducked easily.
Varien dodged a blow from the second creature.
Xylon backed away. “I don’t want anything to do
with this.”
Erwen saw the tunnel ahead of him widening, and
noticed that stone steps had been carved into the rock. He guided Who up the
stairs.
The tunnel opened into a much wider cavern. The sound of waves was getting closer. He and
his mount were atop what looked like a sizable ledge, with an escarpment
leading down to darker depths.
There was a noise ahead of him, as though bone
was being scraped on stone.
Erwen smelled a deathly smell.
From the darkness he suddenly saw one red pair of
eyes blink in his direction. Then a second. Then a third. Then a fourth.
And from the darkness he heard a single hoarse
word, issued from a blood-parched throat.
“Flesh…”
There was a sound of running feet.
Back in the mine tunnel, Bob smiled. “It’s peanut
butter jelly time!” he shouted. He cast misty
step to get into position and, using his sorcerous abilities, cast a
twinned witch bolt at the two blobs.
The two jellies shivered as lightning played over
their bulbous bodies. The jellies heaved and burst, each of them splitting in
two and growing in size as if feeding off the eldritch electricity.
“Uh oh,” Bob said. A blob lunged at him but he
cast shield and the creature’s slime
spattered against his invisible force field, acid hissing.
One of the blobs extended a pseudopod that
latched onto Varien’s midsection. The paladin shouted in pain from the blow,
which was followed by a sickening spurt of acid.
Varien cursed and cast hellish rebuke on the offending jelly.
“Okay then!” Xylon said. “Get your goo off my
friend!” He cast Chromatic Orb at the
jelly who was menacing Varien.
Erwen suppressed a squeak of alarm as he made out
four ghouls rushing towards him. He leapt off Who’s back and transmogrified
into a giant spider, landing nimbly on eight legs.
He skittered towards the first ghoul, biting it
with his new mouthparts and taking a disgusting chunk out of it.
“So
you guys have this covered right?” Theryn took off to the north after Erwen.
Who turned and attempted to wave a leg or two at
Who to get him involved in the battle, only to find that the owlbear had
already waded into the melee, biting a ghoul nearly in half with one snap of
his beak and clawing another ghoul into bloody gobbets.
Theryn rushed up to the chamber, torch in hand,
an illuminated the battle scene, seeing a handful of humanoid creatures being
mauled by a giant spider and an Owlbear.
As if sensing that more palatable prey had
arrived, several ghouls peeled away from the battle with the monsters and
rushed at Theryn, running on hands and feet in a disjointed manner.
One ghoul jumped right at Theryn and clawed at
the monk, opening long, shallow wounds down his chest. Theryn felt a deep cold
chill its way through his body, but the feeling faded. He swung his bo staff
and missed, but kicked a ghoul under the chin so hard that tendons and empty
blood vessels tore away as the head nearly separated from its body. The hit
didn’t slow the undead creature down any.
Suddenly, Varien could sense the presence of evil
nearby.
“Sorry, there’s evil somewhere!” he shouted at
Bob, running to the north.
“There’s evil right in front of you!” Bob
shouted.
Alec switched out his halberd for a
morning star and swung mightily, hitting a jelly so hard that it seemed to
deflate. As he pulled the morning star out, acid spurted from the wounds,
hitting the rock wall with a sizzle.
Bob cast firebolt at another jelly.
Radegast took a look around and decided
to head north. "It is your fault you're outnumbered
after all!" she shouted over her shoulder.
The jellies advanced relentlessly. Despite their
best efforts, Bob and Alec found themselves smothered beneath the creeping
oozes.
Xylon shook his head at his companions’ plight.
“You know, peanut butter and jam always tastes better…on toast!”
Bob let out a muffled “No, Xylon!”
Xylon cast burning
hands on the jellies that were covering his friends.
“Xylon, you fuuuuu-” shouted Bob as the ooze
began to squirt acid on him.
The fire scorched and shriveled the jellies
instantly, and they dropped to the ground, undulating in silent agony as their
semi-liquid surfaces were sheathed in solid, cracking shells of blackened ooze.
Xylon brought his thumbs to his mouth and blew on
them triumphantly.
"If you can’t stand the heat, get
out of the kitchen."
Bob and Alec groaned, and not just from the acid.
In the cavern, Varien arrived to see the
undead running amok. He sliced at one with Talon.
Another one of the creatures tried to bite
Varien, but misses.
As a fifth ghoul scampered out of a
crevasse to rush headlong at Varien, Who nipped it clean in half with his beak.
In a rage, Bob cast four scorching rays ; two at each remaining
blob. One of them died instantly, fountaining up its insides before splashing
into oblivion on the floor. The other one was smoking and twitching in an
attempt to limp away.
Out of spite, and not even looking at the
pathetic creature, Bob cast firebolt
one-handed. The last jelly sprung a leak and deflated into nothing.
Bob let out a sigh at being abandoned by the bulk
of the party. He turned to Xylon.
“Thank you,” he said. “At least you did
something.”
With a final swing, Varien sliced the top of a
ghoul’s head off. He looked about, casting light
on the blade of his sword.
Who and Erwen-Spider had finished off the rest of
the ghouls.
But as the party collected themselves, they heard
moaning from the darkness. More glowing
eyes could be seen gathering from the eastern side of the dark cavern.
The room was filled with the screams of the dead.