Erwen arrived at the Alderleaf Farm.
“Hi, New Dad,” Carp said. “Mom’s upstairs
if you’re looking for her.”
“That I am, Carp,” Erwen said, climbing the
stairs. “That I am.”
Erwen came downstairs the next morning to
the smell of breakfast cooking. Carp was frying up eggs, bacon, and biscuits.
Erwen used druidcraft to sprout roses and left them on Qelline’s seat at the
table. He ate some bacon and then tiptoed back upstairs.
Qelline was tangled in the bedsheets,
snoring softly. Erwen bent over her and kissed her gently on the forehead
before sneaking back out, eager to rejoin his friends.
Sildar walked to the windows that gave the
Townmaster a wide view of Phandalin’s main streets. He sighed, a tired look on
his lined face, and turned back to Varien and Bob.
“We have heard rumours and whispers along
the trade roads and footpaths,” Sildar said. “Rumours of a vile darkness
sweeping over the land.”
At this, Varien perked up.
“We’ve heard tales of entire villages
sitting empty, their inhabitants vanished overnight,” Sildar said. “We don’t
know if it’s a plague, if it’s cultists, or slavers, or something much worse.”
“Worse than slavers?” Bob bristled.
“Indeed,” Sildar said. “As it said, it’s
rumours, filtering in along the Triboar Trail, such as it is. Farmers’ fields
ripe for harvest, but nobody there to reap. Caravans come to a sudden stop, as
if the drovers just walked into the hills and left everything behind.”
“What can we do to help?” Bob asked.
“Well, I have prepared a missive that
includes a report on recent goings-on in Phandalin and the region of late,” he
said. “Your names have featured quite significantly in them. I believe you
should be the ones to carry this report, and the intelligence we’ve gathered,
back to Neverwinter, where you can gain an audience with Lord Protector Dagult
Neverember and see if you can aid him in putting truth to these rumours.”
Varien frowned. He’d heard of Lord
Protector Neverember during his time spent in Luskan, and the stories weren’t
at all positive: He was referred to as “Lord Pretender” by those in Luskan, who
often spit derisively at the mention of his name.
Dagult Neverember had at one time been both
the Open Lord of Waterdeep, the public face of that city’s council of Masked
Lords, while at the same time expanding his influence by rebuilding Neverwinter
after its destruction decades ago. He was Luskan’s archenemy, and there had
been much rejoicing in that pirate stronghold when word arrived that Neverember
had been deposed as the Open Lord. Unfortunately that meant that Neverember was
now free to focus on tightening his grip on Neverwinter itself.
“We are eager to be of service,” Bob said.
“Good man,” replied Sildar.
“There might be something you can help us
with as well,” Varien said.
“Oh, yes?” Sildar asked.
“What do you know about the Obsidian Circle?”
Sildar rubbed his chin. “The Obsidian
Circle, you say? Hmmmm. Can’t say it rings a bell, though there are secret
societies scattered between Luskan and Baldur’s Gate who might answer to such a
cryptic name.”
Varien nodded slowly. “And what of the
Crown of Illefarn, Aelinthaldaar?”
Sildar shook his head ruefully. “I’m long
out of school, my friend. Sadly my Elvish is not what it used to be. Sounds
like a city, perhaps? Why do you ask?”
“It’s just a question of patronage,” Varien
replied.
“Ah, just so,” Sildar said. “Sometimes
those questions are not easily answered.”
“Speaking of elves,” Bob interjected. He
arched an eyebrow at Varien.
“Ah yes, I notice that your elven companion
was not with you when you arrived in town,” Sildar said. “What news there?”
“My friend Xylon seems to have discovered a
different set of priorities to pursue than the rest of our party,” Varien said
carefully.
“Friend?” Bob said sharply.
“Ah,” Sildar nodded. “Many a fellowship has
been broken on the shoals of perspective and priority.”
“It’s worse than you know,” Bob said. “We
had a fateful encounter with the Eldreth Veluuthra. Have you heard of them?”
“The Eldreth Veluuthra?” Sildar repeated.
“What form did your encounter take?”
“We were attempting to take a shortcut
through Neverwinter Wood after dealing with the orcs at Wyvern Tor,” Varien
said, leaving out mention of some of their other dealings. “And amongst a
couple of other hostile creatures, we found ourselves in a skirmish with the
Eldreth Veluuthra.”
“How did you know you were dealing with
such a group?” Sildar asked.
Varien shrugged. “Xylon identified them as
such, and our companion Radegast, who is of the half-elven persuasion, was more
than familiar with their extremist attitudes. One thing led to another, and
they were trying to kill us, so we had to kill them right back.”
“Well, not all of them,” Bob snarled. “We
took a hostage in order to bring their crimes to justice, but…but…” his face
flushed with anger.
Varien shifted uncomfortably. “Well, that’s
where we had a difference of opinion with Xylon. See, he is a member of the
Harpers, and preferred to smother over the group’s existence rather than drag
them into the light.”
“Interesting,” Sildar said.
“Well, I guess so,” Varien said. “Bob and
Radegast disagreed and felt that they needed to be exposed.”
“We disagreed vehemently,” Bob said.
“Something must be done about those extremists.”
“Personally I was just mad that they were
trying to kill me,” Varien continued. “So they got what they deserved, in my
reckoning.”
“I demand justice!” Bob said, his voice
rising. “Xylon showed us his true colours that day in the forest. He released
our hostage while we were asleep and set a fireball trap for us to cover their
escape.”
“Did he, now!” Sildar said.
“Well, yes,” Varien said. “I got my armor
singed a little, but…”
“Passions can run high where blood has been
spilled,” Sildar offered.
“Or burned!” Bob said, turning to Varien.
“He tried to kill us, Varien! With fire!”
“He couldn’t kill us if he tried, Bob!”
Varien exclaimed. “He’s mostly harmless. Only bamboozle.”
“He already bamboozled us, all right,” Bob
said. “By escaping using a dimension door as we were about to be set upon by
werewolves, who for all we know were in league with him the whole time!”
“Werewolves?” Sildar said.
“I want a bounty placed on his head, and
I’ll put up the gold myself if I have to,” Bob said, rooting around in his
pouch for some coin.
“Now, Robert, let’s not be rash,” Varien
said.
“Indeed,” Sildar said. “Tell me more about
this Xylon fellow.”
“Xylon the Defiler, you mean!” Bob said.
“He’s taken liberties with innocent young ladies here in town!”
“What, that Elsa woman at the Stonehill
Inn?” Sildar laughed. “I have some bad news for you there, Bob, she’s not as
innocent as-”
“And he’s had sex with doppelgangers and
the undead, too!” Bob shouted. Varien placed a firm hand on his friend’s
shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.
Sildar arched his eyebrow again. “Now, that
sounds like you’re just being mean there, son…”
“He’s not entirely wrong,” Varien said.
“But aside from his character, Xylon and I go back a little. I met him in
Neverwinter after traveling there from Luskan.”
“And you feel that he has betrayed your
group and its ideals?” Sildar prompted.
“It’s not my place to say, really,” Varien
said. “Xylon had his secrets, same as all of us.”
“Well now,” Sildar persisted. “If Bob here
is concerned with tracking him down, then the more information we know about
Xylon, the better.”
“Damn right I'm concerned!” Bob snarled.
Varien sighed. “From what I gathered, Xylon
was from elven nobility,” he said. “Our paths crossed and ran parallel for a
time, but Xylon left us to look after his lover, who he claimed his parents
sold into slavery.”
“This noble house of Xylon’s,” Sildar
pressed. “Do you know its name?”
“He was traveling under the name
Nightshade,” Varien said. “Judging from how he spoke about his past, it could
be a fake name. When we encountered the Eldreth Veluuthra, I think he got it
into his head that they might be able to assist him in tracking down this
enslaved lover of his,” Varien shook his head. “Personally I think that’s a
dangerous stance.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Oh yes,” Varien said. “Have you got a
scrap of parchment?”
Sildar indicated the papers strewn across
the townmaster’s desk. “You could say that.”
Varien grabbed a quill and quickly sketched
out a drawing of Xylon’s family heirloom, the dagger.
“Oh, my.” Sildar smirked. “You sure you’re
not embellishing?”
“Nope,” Varien said. “What you see is what
you get.”
“Well then,” Sildar took the paper. “I can
make some discreet inquiries through the channels available to me.”
“You have our thanks,” Bob said.
“Now then,” Sildar said. “It will take me a
few hours to finish up my report. I take it you’re staying at the Stonehill
Inn?”
“Yes,” Varien said.
“Then we will speak again before you leave
town,” Sildar said.
“That we will,” Varien said. He and Bob
left the Townmaster’s Hall.
“Where to next?” Bob asked.
“The house on the hill,” Varien said,
pointing towards the ruin of Tresendar Manor. “I think it’s high time we paid
our friend Droop a visit and see if he’s still alive,”
“Oh boy,” Bob said.
The pair trudged up the hill towards
Tresendar Manor and entered the dungeons through the ruined cellar.
As they descended the stone steps into the
basement, they could hear a splashing sound coming from the cistern, and a
tuneless singing.
“Droop?” Varien shouted hesitantly. “Are
you alive?”
There was a frantic splashing sound.
“Uh-yes! Droop still here! Don’t, uh, don’t come down yet!”
Varien smirked. He and Bob tramped into the
cellars.
Droop stood ramrod-straight and dripping
wet in front of the cistern, which was still sloshing behind him. The goblin
had left an oily slick that drifted on the surface of the rainwater. Bob
gagged.
“Hello, old friend. Any trouble since we
left you on guard here in the Manor?” Varien said.
“No, Droop do a good job and not let any
intruders inside,” Droop said. He tilted his head, considering, and water gushed
out from his pointy ear. “Although, children did play in tunnels, and weren’t
scared of Droop at all.”
“Droop, my goblin friend, you have done a
man’s job,” Varien said. “I release you from our service.”
Droop stared at Varien, his greenish facing
paling. “Droop…Droop fired ?” he
whispered. Tears began welling up in his red eyes.
“Not at all!” Varien said. “You have
completed your task, and you did your job well!”
Droop slumped over and turned his backside
to Bob and Varien. “If going to beat Droop, don’t hit him in the face.”
“I will do nothing of the sort!” protested
Varien. “In fact, if you are interested in doing more work, I may have a job
for you!”
“What?” hissed Bob.
“Just follow my lead,” hissed Varien.
Droop straightened up. “Droop here to help!
What Droop do?”
“You can come with us and I will introduce
you to your new boss,” Varien said. “You’ll like working for him.”
“Droop provide excellent references!” The
goblin said excitedly, shrugging on a tattered jerkin.
The trio made they way back to the
Townmaster’s Hall.
Sildar was bundling up a sheaf of papers
into an oilcloth. “Ah, gentlemen, you saved me a trip to the Stonehill Inn-egad!”
He jumped back at the sight of Droop cringing behind Varien’s shield.
“What the devil do you have there?” Sildar
shouted, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“This is our good friend Droop,” Varien
said. “He is eminently employable and eager to find a new line of work.”
“Is that…is that the parasite that haunted
the halls of Tresendar Manor?” Sildar said, wrinkling his nose.
“The very same,” Varien said. “Droop here
is ready to apply the same single-mindedness to whatever task you bestow upon
him that he put to guarding the depths of Tresendar Manor.”
“I…see,” Sildar said.
“Want Droop to take care of stinky sack?”
Droop pointed to the bulging sack that sat on Harbin Wester’s chair.
“I, uh,” Sildar said uncertainly, and then smiled
suddenly as inspiration struck him. “I do believe you can be of some service to
our Townmaster, Harbin Wester.”
Bob sniggered.
“Droop do enjoy making new friends!” Droop
chirped. He scampered over to Varien and hugged his leg.
“Thank you for not beating Droop!” Droop
said.
“Easy there, Droop,” Varien said, prying
the goblin off his leg. “Save it for your new employers.”
“Well then,” Sildar said, handing Bob the
package and slipping him a sealed letter. “I have included a letter of
introduction to Lord Protector Neverember that you can hand over to the town
watch upon your arrival in order to gain an audience with him.”
“We will not fail the Lords’ Alliance,” Bob
said.
“Sure,” Varien shrugged.
As the pair left, there was a scuffling
sound behind them. They turned to see Sildar hopping on one leg as Droop hugged
him, holding onto his leg with surprising strength.
“Now Droop, this will not do!” Sildar
protested.
“New friend!” Droop said gleefully. “New friend!”
Sildar fell behind the Townmaster’s desk
with a crash.
Radegast left the Phandalin Miner’s
Exchange, intent on tracking down Daran Edermath and giving him a piece of her
mind.
She trudged to Edermath’s orchard. Finding
the farmhouse empty, she began walking amid the rows of apple trees until she
spied the half-elf tending to his crop.
She crept forward, but her boot stepped on
a dry branch, which cracked loudly. The sound echoed across the orchard,
followed by a far-off crack of thunder from the horizon.
Daran Edermath turned and set aside his
shears. “Ah, the bard returneth!”
Radegast marched forward purposefully until
she was standing toe to toe with the farmer. “Remember that Song of Other Times
and Places?” she asked sharply. “Turns out some of those places were deep
underground.”
“I believe I’m familiar with that
particular tune,” Edermath said wryly.
“Well, a chap named Kraklos nearly drummed
me out of the ensemble,” Radegast said crossly. “When you got me this gig in
the first place, did you know the instruments were going to be out of tune?”
“I thought you might find a welcome
audience,” Edermath said.
“Yes, but did you know it was going to be a
three-day tour of underground venues?” Radegast replied.
“Well, you’ve returned with some new verses
to sing, no doubt,” Edermath said. “I take it you received positive reviews and
curtain calls?”
“Well, when we usually play for rough
crowds, there’s a bit of a bonus,” Radegast said. “But this audience wasn’t
throwing just tomatoes, if you know what I mean.” Her voice faltered. “I had
worms in my mouth, Edermath! Worms!”
Daran picked an apple out of the nearest
bushel basket. “Well, as an apple farmer let me tell you, even the shiniest
apple can contain a multitude of worms beneath its surface.” He smiled. “It
sounds like this was quite the symphony.”
“Yeah, and Kraklos was the conductor, and…”
Radegast looked around. “Is it safe to talk openly?”
“I was wondering when you’d ask,” Edermath
chuckled. “Yes, speak your piece.”
“Kraklos had been staking out Old Owl Well
for some time waiting for the Red Wizards to cross a line, and was unhappy when
me and my companions jumped into the fray.”
“That sounds like the Kraklos I know,”
Edermath admitted.
“Then you should have known better,”
Radegast said.
“And what of the Red Wizards?” Edermath
asked.
“Oh, not much,” Radegast said. She used minor illusion to show a quick montage
of the battle with Hamun Kost and the group’s encounters with the Deathless
Worm.
“Ah, I worried that dangerous magic might
lie dormant there, waiting for the right person, or more importantly, the wrong
person, to awaken it,” Edermath said, impressed. “And you dispatched this
abomination?”
“Well, it was a group effort,” Radegast
admitted.
“Well done,” Edermath said. “I apologize if
I put you in an awkward position.”
“Apology accepted,” Radegast said.
“Well then,” Edermath said, offering
Radegast an apple. “What’s next for you?”
Radegast slumped on the nearest bushel
basket and took a bite out of the apple. “Would you be able to sing a ‘Song of
Other Times and Places’ about a small city north of here dedicated to a dead
god?”
“Ah, Helm’s Hold,” Edermath said. “What
would you like to know?”
“I’d like to know what we’re going to walk
into when we head that way.” Radegast said.
“Well, as you know, Helm’s Hold and
Neverwinter were very nearly brought to their knees by a terrible conspiracy
involving demon-worshippers.”
Radegast nodded.
“It was a member of the Order of the Gauntlet, Javen Tarmikos, who
called into question the Gauntlet’s philosophy of striking out at evildoers,
not evil-thinkers. Javen believed that this philosophy was flawed, that it
allowed evil that nearly destroyed Helm’s Hold to gain strength in the
shadows.” Edermath continued. “It’s said that he was praying in the Cathedral
of Helm when he received a vision – in the chapel he witnessed an emblem of
Helm’s unblinking eye weeping tears of gold.”
“Is that so?” Radegast asked.
“So the story goes,” Edermath said. “Tarmikos rallied other fellow
believers to his banner, and soon, the Order of the Gilded Eye, as it came to
be known, held sway in Helm’s Hold. The Order of the
Gilded Eye says it is dedicated to protecting the world and good
people by rooting out hidden evils, but where it differs from the Gauntlet orthodoxy is that according
to their members, it's not enough to
fight threats that arise. Evil must be destroyed before it can take hold in the
hearts and minds of men and monster alike.”
“Who could we count on as a friend inside
Helm’s Hold?” Radegast asked. “A hand in the gauntlet, if you will.”
Edermath considered this. “Well, I’m
officially out of the game, as you know, but when I was active, I knew of an
inn and tavern at Helm’s Hold called the Old Dirty Dwarf. Apparently it’s under
new management and a new name, but the woman who runs the place now, Kharissa
Anuvien, has deep roots in the community and she should still be solid and
loyal. I’m sure she would be a receptive audience for a Song of Other Times and
Places.”
“And what about operating openly under the
Gauntlet banner?” Radegast asked.
“There’s no love lost officially between
our two factions,” Edermath admitted with a frown. “I’m sure the Gauntlet has
agents monitoring the situation, keeping a close watch on the Gilded Eye’s
activities, but given the schism, I would imagine Gauntlet operatives are
viewed with a healthy suspicion.”
“Bad blood aside, what are the consequences
of this disloyalty?” Radegast asked. “Would it be a wrong thing for such an
embarrassment to our Order to be brought to light?”
“Well, what’s done is done,” Edermath said.
“The Order of the Gilded Eye exists, and we must make our peace with our
overzealous cousins, keeping a watchful eye to ensure they do not cross the
line.”
“And what should we do if we see that line
crossed?” Radegast asked.
“I can only fall back on the precepts of our
Order,” Edermath sighed. “If evil is being done, then evil cannot be allowed to
continue.”
Radegast hugged Edermath, relieved to speak
with someone who wasn’t being duplicitous. “I appreciate your honesty, Daran.”
The farmer stiffened, and then smiled,
returning Radegast’s embrace.
“Be on your guard in Helm’s Hold,” Daran
said, giving Radegast’s shoulder a paternal squeeze as they parted. “They’ve
had a difficult time these last few years, and fear has led to zealotry in
pursuit of their goals. You’ll understand when you arrive.”
Varien and Bob returned to the Stonehill
Inn. “You go on ahead,” Varien told Bob. “I have some more business to attend
to.”
He walked over to the Shrine of Luck,
intent on finding the cleric of Tymora who Xylon had been talking to the last
time they were in town. He recalled from conversations with Phandalin townsfolk
that the cleric’s name was Sister Garaele, and that she had arrived in town
some months ago, leaving on occasion to take care of unspecified business. She
had not returned from her last trip.
He found the shrine empty, though there
were signs that someone had been sweeping the floors.
He recalled that the cleric had a cottage
behind the shrine, and he went there next. He took note of the broken window
that stood open near the door. He reached his arm through the empty frame and
unlatched the door, stepping over the threshold.
The living quarters were sparse and there
was little evidence that the small cottage was inhabited. Varien took note of
the battered set of cleric’s armor on a stand near a small shrine to Tymora. A
thick layer of dust coated the armor.
“Can I help you, friend?” said a soft voice
behind him.
Varien whirled and found himself standing
before a tall, thin man wearing simple white vestments.
“Who are you?”
The man bowed slightly. “I am Brother
Alekki,” he said. “How may I help you this day?”
“I’m looking for Sister Garaele?” Varien
said hopefully. “The elven woman who was the keeper of the Shrine of Luck until
recently.”
“Yes, Sister Garaele,” the cleric said. “I
am her replacement,” he said simply. “The new caretaker of the Shrine of Luck.”
“Uh huh,” Varien said. “I’m looking for the
elf that used to live here.”
“Your burdens must be truly weary for you
to visit outside of the shrine’s operating hours,” Brother Alekki said. “May I
offer you some tea and a listening ear?”
“No, I should really be on my way,” Varien
said.
“Yes, yes,” Brother Alekki nodded. “Friend,
allow me to bless you this day.”
“Uh huh,” Varien said. “You said this
Shrine was a Shrine of Luck? Can you really bestow a blessing on visitors to
the shrine?”
“Surely,” Brother Alekki said.
“Forgive me if I sound skeptical,” Varien
said. He shrugged. “Well, if your Shrine has any juice in it, who am I to turn
down the blessing of a god?” Varien said, thinking of Radegast’s recent
experiences with Talos. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Varien allowed Brother Alekki to place his
hands on his shoulders. The cleric began to pray. Varien closed his eyes
respectfully.
Brother Alekki’s prayer was in a language
Varien couldn’t place. His murmured intercession started softly but grew in
intensity. Brother Alekki’s words grew guttural and sharp, his voice deepening.
Varien’s eyes opened.
Brother Alekki’s shorn scalp was beaded
with sweat, his face contorted, as he continued to pray in an unsettling
tongue, spittle flecking his lips. Then, suddenly, he relaxed. He opened his
eyes and smiled at Varien.
“Your spirit is quite strong,” he said.
“You have fought hard, and survived.”
“Thank you, I guess?” Varien took a step
back. “And you say you’re a cleric of Tymora?”
“Fresh from the abbey,” Brother Alekki said
sheepishly. “Perhaps I need to work on my mannerisms, and if so I apologize…”
“Yes, quite.”
Brother Alekki smiled. “Friend, I can tell
by the way that you carry yourself that you bear many burdens. You have seen
much trouble on the road of late, unless I miss my guess.”
“You can look at the scars on my armor and
guess as much,” Varien said. “But I am looking for Sister Garaele, and if she’s
not here, then…”
“You are no stranger to the darkness, are
you my friend?” Brother Alekki said.
“Well, when you put it that way, no, the
darkness and I are well-acquainted,” Varien said.
“And you are no stranger to the idea that
without death, there can be no rebirth?”
“Well, that’s one view,” Varien said
warily, suddenly on his guard. “A circle of life, you might say.”
“Forgive my forwardness,” Brother Alekki
said. “But you have the look of a man who has faced death and darkness, and
emerged reborn.”
“I’ve seen some things,” Varien admitted.
Brother Alekki’s smile was horrible in its
earnestness. “Yes, I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you. You know that
death is not a thing to fear here in the North, don’t you?”
“Well, it’s not something I’m looking
forward to, if that’s what you mean,” Varien said. “But death and darkness are
not to be feared. The light will lay bare all shadow.”
“Yes, you speak the truth,” Brother Alekki
said, his eyes shining. “You see that before the dawn, there must be darkness,
and from the darkness, all shall be reborn!”
Varien’s eyes narrowed. “What did they
teach you at that Abbey of yours?”
“A great many things,” Brother Alekki said
with a smile. “I have learned much in my travels to Phandalin, and I hope to
share what I have learned with the good people of this village.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’ll find a receptive
audience here,” Varien mumbled.
Brother Alekki’s smile stretched ever
wider. “May you find a way to shine ever brighter in the darkness, my friend.”
Varien nodded slowly and backed away,
convinced there was something a little off about this cleric.
“Perhaps you could leave a tithe for Tymora
in the shrine on your way out?” Brother Alekki said hopefully.
“Yeah, sure,” Varien said. “I’ll leave a
gift for Tymora all right.”
As he walked back out through the shrine,
he manifested his glowing celestial greatsword and left it atop the altar. He
was confident that the sword would disappear once he moved far enough away.
He cast one look backward at the cleric’s
cottage and thought for a second that he could see Brother Alekki staring at
him through the broken window frame. He blinked in surprise and when his eyes
opened again the window was empty.
Varien shivered and returned to the
Stonehill Inn.
Radegast did some shopping at Barthen’s
Provisions before stopping at the smithy and requisitioning a rough piece of iron
in the shape of a lightning bolt that would serve as a holy symbol.
The party reconvened at the Stonehill Inn
and demolished a large pizza.
“So, Bob here has joined the Lords’
Alliance,” Varien said.
“A toast!” Radegast exclaimed, buying a
round of drinks. The party celebrated Bob’s induction into the organization.
“And our old friend Droop is now working
for Townmaster Wester,” Varien added.
“Sildar has asked us to carry some letters
with us to Neverwinter,” Bob said. “He can get us an audience with Lord
Protector Dagult Neverember. Sounds like there’s trouble in the North and we
might be able to help.”
“And I found out a bit more about what
awaits us at Helm’s Hold,” Radegast added. “We may have a friend of a friend
who can help us get to the bottom of things there. Also, I stocked up on rations
for everyone, and some arrows for Varien.”
“Much obliged,” Varien smiled. “All right,
let’s get some rest and head north first thing tomorrow.”
The party members retired to their rooms.
Varien had a difficult time falling asleep.
When he finally drifted off, he had one of the most vivid nightmares reliving
the Shade of Lorelei that he had experienced in months. He awoke drenched in sweat;
the names of his dead loved ones on his lips in a choked scream.
In the Townmaster’s Hall, Droop was
settling into his new role as a footstool for Harbin Wester. As he crouched on the
floor in front of the Townmaster’s chair, he grinned.
“Droop finally have job security!”