A Call Rejected; A Call Answered

As Bob tended to his adoring public, Varien set about searching for any remaining sources of desecration, cleansing the residual orcish blood magic wherever he found it. Siegfried, still quietly sobbing, stayed in the shadows as the gnomes quickly set about securing their ruined city. He realized that his half-orc features might not be a welcome sight to a people who had sold their firstborn sons to a warband of his estranged brethren. Erwen, still in his air elemental form, cringed as he tasted the increasingly stale air of the gnome cavern. Yo, my fellow dudes, I simply cannot any longer , he said over the telepathic bond shared by his companions. Catch you topside, I’m going out for a breather. Just call me Er-Wind. We don’t have much time to waste, but we need to catch our breath here, Varien responded. Make sure you’re back in a few hours. Er-Wind turned his attention to the roof of the cavern and spied a series of small-gauge ventilation ducts connected to a pipe system drilled into the rock. He drifted upward, squeezing his ephemeral elemental bulk into the narrow ductwork, and headed in the direction of fresh air. He dropped his wildshape as he exited, and was spat out of a mountainside vent that was cunningly concealed as just another rocky outcropping, landing face-up in the snow. Though it was cold, and the wind was whipping snowflakes up his nose, Erwen breathed deeply and smiled, reveling in his outdoor surroundings. He began to make snow angels, moving his arms and legs against the snow, and was happy. He closed his eyes and basked in the cold. The cold was interrupted by a wash of warm air over him, followed by the familiar scent of animal. Erwen opened his eyes, his iced-over eyelashes tugging apart painfully, and saw that he was face-to-snout with the shaggy white-furred head of a dire bear. The bear’s head was partially covered by a heavy chain-mail cowl. Its eyes were locked on him in a bear’s glare. Erwen’s teeth began to chatter, but not entirely from the cold.   Under Mayor Silvershaper’s direction, the gnomes began to clear the streets of the shattered remains of the Black Spider’s arachnid army. Several partially-constructed autonoma-gnomes, lacking the defensive countermeasures of their topside companions, assisted in the cleanup. Alec looked sheepish. “That reminds me, your security system in the valley is going to need some repair,” he said to the mayor. “One of the constructs bit me in the arm, and, well, we retaliated.” “Yes, they’ll do that if they sense danger,” Mayor Silvershaper said. “Unfortunately, the Black Spider was able to circumvent our defenses.” Siegfried chose this opportunity to rejoin his companions. “You must allow us to assist in the cleanup, Your Worship,” he said. He looked at the growing pile of spider limbs stacked like cordwood as the gnomes began to ignite bonfires to finish what Bob and Palarandusk had started. “However, I think we might also find better use for those ethereal spiders than the ash heap.” He looked about. “Where did Erwen breeze off to?” “He needed some topside time,” Theryn said. “Ah, Theryn my good man,” Siegfried said, switching to plan B. “You do have some experience as a tracker, trapper and forager, I wager?” “This is true,” Theryn said. “You pick these things up as you walk the earth.” “Then it shouldn’t be too difficult for you to, say, successfully extract a quantity of ethereal venom from the sudden surplus and surfeit of spiders around us, hmm?” Theryn nodded slowly. “That I can do, but to what purpose?” “Ah, let me worry about that,” Siegfried said. “If I can assist you in your task, it would be an honour.” “I will need some elbow room,” Theryn said. “And a sharp knife.” Siegfried laid something sharp across the monk’s palm. “I think I shall enjoy watching you work.” Theryn waded into the morass of shattered spiders and began to slice and dice, emptying the contents of several intact venom sacs and glands into the largest vessel Siegfried could procure on such short notice. “Who is going to test this?” Theryn said. “I’m immune to poison. Shall I inject you?” “I prefer to be the one doing the injecting,” said Siegfried. “Is there an alchemist in the house?” he called out to the gnomes. “Preferably one who minored in biology?” One of the nearby gnomes raised his hand and tottered forward. “Norster Milltall at your service!” he said. “Ah, Master Milltall, we would like you to, er, make something out of this,” Siegfried said, indicating the pile of spiders and the sloshing cask of venom. “Rest assured, we shall use this horrid chemical to avenge the fallen, and take vengeance on those who royally buggered your fair city.” “Well, as Ieirithymbul’s leading artificer and alchemist, I relish a challenge!” Norster said. “Provided my laboratory wasn’t sacked in the sacking, I think I can put your secretions to good use.” “Good man, although please never refer to my secretions ever again,” Siegfried said, his eyes narrowing. “Now then, what’s going on here?” Mayor Silvershaper said, her uninjured hand planted on a curved hip. “What are you proposing to do with that stuff?” “Ah, Your Worship!” Siegfried made as if to bow reverentially. “I am Siegfried Alagondar, late of Neverwinter, and I have a special interest in the safety and security of the lands between Neverwinter and Waterdeep.” “A pleasure to meet you,” the Mayor said. “I am Elphina Daergel Aripine Celfyx Waywocket Silvershaper.” “Yes, you are indeed,” Siegfried agreed. “What we propose to do with this material is, well, something cool! If we were to merely smear that venom on our blades, it would evaporate and become inert in just a few hours. But if your Master Alchemist here can distill the essence of this particular poison down to its base elements and recombine them, well, the sky would be the limit to what we might be able to do – I imagine, were we to ingest some concoction derived from that ethereal ichor, perhaps we could find ourselves able to slip between planes – just think of the infiltration applications – or better yet, were we to weaponize its etherealness and apply it to our enemies, perhaps we could send them on an unscheduled jaunt into the ethereal plane, trapping them there.” The Mayor batted her eyelashes. “Such inspiring imagination! Are you sure you’re not part gnome?” “Sadly, no,” Siegfried said. “My adoptive father is himself a Quarterling, though. I feel an affinity for those whose stature towers higher than their physical height.” “Well said, Siegfried Alagondar,” Mayor Silvershaper replied. “Ah, but I have not yet finished speaking!” Siegfried said. “Today we pledge to offer our assistance to ensure that the drow who brought such trouble to your doorstep finds his head affixed on the nearest pike. Or perhaps we could merely cut off his hands and return him to you to allow you to extract your own form of justice from him. Either way, the drow is doomed.” The mayor’s eyes flashed in anger. “Yes, the Black Spider showed himself to be a deceptive betrayer,” she hissed. “He claimed that if we did as he asked, we would avoid complete destruction. We did as he asked, and he responded with annihilation.” “Indeed,” Siegfried said. “We did notice that a vile orcish totem had been erected at your front gates. I daresay that orc magic is not normally in a drow’s wheelhouse. Rest assured we were able to destroy the totem.” The mayor lowered her eyes. “The Black Spider offered to broker peace between us and an orc warband, saying that without him, we would be delivered wholesale into their hands and destroyed down to the last Ieirthyn gnome. What choice did we have but to trust him?” Siegfried laid a consoling hand on her uninjured shoulder. “You made the only choice you could under impossible circumstances. Just like our only choice is to now try and outpace the Sons of Gruumsh.” “You have heard of these orcs?” The mayor asked, wide-eyed. “I believe my father, or at the very least my estranged brethren are among them,” Siegfried admitted. “I never knew the man or his progeny, but if he is as bloodthirsty as Nezznar has promised, we will put him down and scatter his warband to the wind.” The mayor nodded slowly. “And our scions, the sons of Ieirithymbul, will you return them to us?” “Who are these scions?” Siegfried asked. “Why would the orcs want them?” “Their names are Keladon Braeder, Bershaw Ardabad, Dellabean Pheldaer, and Benskar Felrenden,” Mayor Silvershaper replied. “As to what the orcs wanted or needed with the firstborn sons of the four founding family syndicates of Ieirithymbul, I can only guess, and my imagination fails. It’s beyond our understanding, I’m afraid.” “It does not bode well for any of us,” Siegfried said. “Will you return them to us?” the mayor pressed. “Do we know where they were taken?” Theryn asked. The Mayor shook her head sadly. “There are ways to determine their destination,” Siegfried said. “The Black Spider voided whatever contract he brokered between you and the Sons of Gruumsh,” he declared. “We shall in turn void the Black Spider, the Orcs, and return the Sons of Ieirithymbul to their hometown.” He turned to the Mayor. “Of course, we’ll need some assistance from you.” “Whatever we can provide, we shall,” Mayor Silvershaper said. “Our home is your home for as long as you need to stay.” “I was hoping you’d say that,” Siegfried said. To Erwen he called telepathically, What do you need to turn a corpse into a Tiefling? I’m kind of busy right this second , Erwen replied. Siegfried strolled over and retrieved Yeemik’s bloody ragdoll corpse from where it had fallen to the Black Spider’s minions. “We have a guy for this,” Siegfried said to the Mayor. “But we shall need as many rare oils and unguents as you can spare to reincarnate this lost soul into an ally, however temporary and reluctant.” The Mayor nodded and began to bark orders to her surviving staff members. “Our druid needs to rest, but when he does, he will be able to resurrect this minion of Nezznar, who may have the answers we seek,” Siegfried explained. “Wait, what’s your plan?” Theryn asked. Siegfried held up Yeemik’s mangled corpse, which was leaking both spider venom and blood in large quantities. “We raise the man, find out what he knows, and follow the orcs’ trail.” He faltered for a moment. “Speaking of rest, I need to take a moment or two as well, because right now all I could do is hurl verbal abuse at the Black Spider.” Theryn nodded. “We’ve all earned a bit of respite, I agree.” “But before I rest, there’s a call I need to make,” Siegfried said. “I need some privacy.” He looked about, tossed Yeemik’s corpse aside, and made for the nearest alleyway. “This I’ve got to see,” Theryn murmured, and followed at a discreet distance. Siegfried found a wet splash of orc’s blood in the dark alley and scooped up some ash, mixing the two together into a vile paste that he smeared across his forehead in the zig-zag shape of a crown. The rest he formed into the shape of a circle on the ground. He produced the orcish blade heirloom he’d carried with him since childhood and stabbed it into the corpse of a dead spider, spilling its ethereal venom until it mixed with the ash the orc’s blood. He then prestidigitated a fire into the circle. The ethereal venom began to hiss and spit. Siegfried closed his eyes. This is as vile a ritual as I can conceive of to contact another plane, Siegfried thought. May Tyr forgive this blasphemy. Steeling himself, Siegfried stared into the fire and spoke, his voice thick with dark magick. “Hello, Mother.” Siegfried was suddenly aware that he was no longer alone in the alley. A shadow cast by the writhing flames detached itself from the wall and walked slowly towards Siegfried, her face covered by a veil of ash. She was clad in the remains of a formal gown, the hem of its skirts burned, its bodice torn and bloody. The woman’s limbs distended as it reached for Siegfried, fingers stretching into impossibly-long claws that caressed his face with a horrid imitation of a mother’s loving embrace. There was no love in the alley, and no time for Siegfried to regret his decision. Siegfried’s mother ripped away her ashen veil to reveal her face, twisted into a frightful grimace of naked hatred. Gripping either side of Siegfried’s face, she drew close and then screamed at the top of lungs filled with bloody ash. ABOMINATION! YOUR SONS BURNED IN THE FIRES! Siegfried screamed as a chorus of three overlapping female voices joined in before his voice was choked off by a rising tide of ash-choked bile and his own life’s blood, which seemed eager to flee his body. Siegfried fell back and kept falling, a glossolalia of insane gibberish exiting his mouth as he tried to speak. From the mouth of the alley, Theryn watched Siegfried convulse and collapse. “Is this…is this part of the ritual?” he asked, receiving no reply. Hey everyone I think Siegfried is dying , Theryn said over the unintelligible gibberish flooding the telepathic bond. Then, Siegfried’s insane tirade ceased mid-syllable, and a deathly silence followed.

“Easy, Grunhawr,” a woman’s voice, very close by, said as the dire bear sniffed at Erwen and growled. “If you eat him, we can’t ask him questions, now can we?” Very slowly, Erwen turned his head away from the bear to face the speaker. He saw a green-skinned orc woman clad in heavy furs crouching at his side, the pointy end of a spear aimed at him. Her features were more human than orc, Erwen reflected, and beautiful in an exotic sort of way, and a diagonal scar ran across her face running from her forehead down across the bridge of her nose to end at her jawline. “I would have your name, small man,” the orc, or maybe half-orc, said sternly. “First off all,” Erwen squeaked and then tried again, his voice deeper. “First of all, you can’t call me small without taking a look at the entire package.” The dire bear growled and rolled its eyes. Erwen reached up and flipped his bearskin hood over his head, but put a little too much energy into the movement and ended up blinded. The bear’s snuffling was akin to laughter. The half-orc smiled, revealing sharp tusk-like teeth, and ran a hand up her sizable chest to show Erwen she too was clad in bearskin, among other furs. “Oh, Grunhawr’s not offended that you wear the skin of his kin,” she said. “He believes that if a bear falls before the hunter then it deserves to be skinned, isn’t that right Grunhawr?” the woman turned and vigorously scritched under the dire bear’s chin. The bear growled contendedly and leaned in to the woman’s ministrations. “Yes it is, there’s a good boy.” “Wait a minute,” Erwen said. “I’ve seen you before! You were hiding out on the mountainside the other day, weren’t you?” The woman’s smile took on a grim outline. “And you, you look like you’re more at home among the saplings. What brought you to my mountain?” “Okay, first things first,” Erwen said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out a pipe. I really need to take a few hits because, lady, I’ve been through a lot the last couple of days.” He slowly reached into his pocket, mindful of the dire bear’s sub-bass growl and the woman’s unwavering spearpoint, and produced the natty wooden pipe with the platinum filigree he had recovered from Mormesk’s lair in Wave Echo Cave. He lit the pipe shakily and inhaled deeply. “Okay, second, we can all get along here, right? I’m not trying to cause any trouble on your mountain, okay?” He took another soothing drag on his pipe. “Now, what do you want to know?” “I would know your business, Halfling,” the woman said. “Okay, so, we were out here chasing spiders,” Erwen said. “In a cave under the mountain, you know? I, well, I don’t do well in caves for very long, I prefer the great outdoors.” “That much is obvious,” the woman said. “So I’m really more of a follower than a leader, right? So I was with a bunch of my friends, and I sort of fill the role of the silent type, you know?” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “What friends ?” “Just the guys who I’m traveling with,” Erwen said. I'm friends with everyone, you know, including adventurers and travelers. And strangers, well, strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet!” “That attitude will get you killed someday, small man,” the woman sneered. “Now, what business do you have with the gnomes below?” “No business, really,” Erwen said. “Just trying to help them out of a jam. Is that bad or good, from your perspective.” “It’s…interesting,” the woman said. “Okay, lady,” Erwen said. “Now I have some questions for you.” “Lady?” the woman repeated. “How formal of you.” “So what are you doing out here on the mountainside?” Erwen asked. “I observe. I witness. I calculate,” the woman said. “I take the measure of all who travel through the peaks and valleys of the Sword Mountains.” “So if you were watching us with the gnome train a couple of days ago, were you going to help them or just keep watching?” Erwen asked. “Your question presumes much,” the woman said, her voice taking on a sharp edge. “What do you know about the Forgebar dwarves?” “I know enough to know that I’m out of my element,” Erwen said. “That, at least, is a truthful answer,” the woman said with a chuckle. “I watched you defend that gnome caravan against the dwarves. So I think I know where you and your friends stand.” “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Erwen repeated. The woman ignored the question. “However,” she continued, “you and your friends made an awful hash of the village in the valley.” “Yes?” Erwen said, hoping that was the right response. “Yes, though I am still uncertain of your true motives in the mountains,” the woman continued. “Are all of your friends as…simple as you are?” “Lady, I’m an open book,” Erwen said. “But I think we can be friends. I get a sense we’re after the same thing here, but I don’t really have a handle on what that thing is.” There was a long silence, long enough that Erwen thought about making some sort of defensive or even offensive move. Then the woman spoke again. “I have taken your measure, small man, and I think that Grunhawr will not eat you this day.” “That’s a bonus,” Erwen said. The woman nodded at Erwen’s pipe. He grinned and handed it over. The woman sucked on the long pipe stem repeatedly and exhaled a ring of smoke with a look of satisfaction on her face. She gazed at the pipe, looking at it from several angles as she turned it this way and that in her hand. “I have plundered many dwarfholds in these mountains, but I’ve never seen one this size.” “Uh, thank you!” Erwen said. “Speaking of size…” The woman’s eyes briefly flicked downward, and then met Erwen’s gaze again as she handed the pipe back to the Halfling. “My name is Haravak the Mountain Strider,” she said, somewhat more softly. “We shall speak again.” She put away her spear and lifted the cape of her hood over her head. Haravak vanished into thin air. Grunhawr gave Erwen one last warning growl, and then did likewise. “Wait!” Erwen called. “I have so many questions!” Haravak’s lips were suddenly at Erwen’s ear, so close that they brushed against the fine hair on their tips. “Next time you will have to be quicker in asking your questions, small man.” Then Erwen was alone. He fell back into the snow in a puff of white.   Theryn called upon his rudimentary knowledge of medicine to stabilize the dying Siegfried and helped the half-orc to his feet. Siegfried set about in search of a neti pot to irrigate his ash-packed sinuses and wash his mouth out with something strong and alcoholic. “Dying twice in one day is simply not the thing,” he muttered. The adventurers were ushered into a spacious cottage to rest and relax after their ordeal. Mayor Silvershaper’s associates appeared with an array of curious weapons and equipment taken from the gnome city’s armory to help them in their work. The adventurers accepted them with thanks. Erwen fashioned himself an igloo and rested inside, sending Haravak a dream spell that summarized the party’s recent activities and accomplishments, but spun in a way that made the Halfling the hero at the centre of the story. Siegfried sent Erwen a message . “Wake up, small man, it’s past noon and we have a goblin to reincarnate.” I ain’t going back in no cave, was Erwen’s reply. I’m outside and on ice. Ferry me the body and a vat of oil and I can help you out. “Fine,” Siegfried said, collecting the necessary items and rolling up Yeemik’s broken body into a rug for safekeeping. Mayor Silvershaper thanked the party members personally as they prepared to set off. “If we are successful, we will return with your sons in tow,” Siegfried declared. “Bob here, as the incarnation of your Unseen Protector, will do all he can do to make you whole once again.” Varien rolled his eyes. “And if we’re not successful?” Theryn whispered to Siegfried as the villagers cheered. Siegfried arched an eyebrow. “Then the spiders will kill you first.” “Oh,” Theryn said. “Mayor Silvershaper,” Siegfried asked. “Does Ieirithymbul have a working teleportation circle, by chance?” “No, we rely on a vehicle-driven transportation network,” Silvershaper replied. “However, I have heard that the abandoned dwarf hold once known as Melairrin, located beneath Mount Sar, might be home to such a portal.” “Really?” Siegfried said. “Thanks for the information.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh yes! Let’s look in on our friend Master Milltall, shall we?” Siegfried and Theryn stopped by the alchemist’s workshop and saw a mad flurry of activity taking place. Several spider’s corpses were strung up, being drained of their bodily fluids, while Milltall was spot-welding a flexible steel armature that appeared to support a transplanted venomic system that terminated in a pair of spigots. “Not done yet, ha ha! But making progress!” the artificer-alchemist called. “It is beautiful!” Siegfried clapped his hands. “We shall take as many as you can make.” “Excellent!” Milltall said, turning to one of his assistants. “See, I told you we’d be taking orders on this thing right away, it’s genius!” “One last thought, Mayor,” Siegfried said as he and the companions approached the main entrance. “Upon our return, is there a way that we can bypass your, ah, rather creative security system in the valley above us?” “Don’t worry about a thing,” Mayor Silvershaper replied. “We usually have an observation post that is manned round the clock and who can disable our defensive countermeasures when a friend is in sight.” Her expression clouded. “We had a scout who abandoned his post at the first sight of the orc warband, who shall remain…nameless!” She spat out the final word and all gnomes within earshot cringed. “Nameless…nameless!” they repeated, making quick superstitious somatic gestures as if to ward off the evil eye or some other piece of bad luck. “Stripped of his name and banished for cowardice, eh?” Siegfried said with a nod. “Good riddance, I say.” He turned to his companions. “Some gnomes take pains to strip a cowardly criminal of all his many gratuitous names, since names and lineage are held so highly by gnomes, going as far as to modify their memory.” “Yes,” Silvershaper replied. “There is an atonement protocol requiring the accused to demonstrate his bravery and regain his names, but it is usually granted…posthumously.” Mayor Silvershaper’s guards opened a hidden passage to reveal a circular stone stairwell that would take the party members back to the surface. Its exit was hidden behind a boulder. It didn’t take long for the party to spy Erwen’s cozy igloo. Siegfried unrolled the rug, depositing the increasingly stiff and smelly goblin corpse before the Halfling. “Time to do your thing, small man.” Erwen looked down at the body and then up at Siegfried. “Nah,” he said. Siegfried glared at the Halfling. “Listen to me, small man, a city’s children have been stolen!” “I was thinking we could mess with Nezznar, in dreams, instead,” Erwen said. “I have this plan, see.” “Erwen,” Siegfried sighed, mustering all the patience he could. “Nezznar is a drow. Drow do not sleep. Ergo, a dream spell would be a waste of magical resources, unlike, say, the very practical and necessary application of a reincarnation spell that would help us wreak vengeance on the Black Spider!” “If you say so,” Erwen shrugged. “Got my oils?” “Yes, yes!” Siegfried handed over a basket of the essential items. “Hop to it, now!” Erwen knelt down next to the mauled goblin corpse and began shaping a snowman, which he then drenched liberally in oils and paste, augmenting its humanoid form. He began the reincarnation ritual. “Misplaced soul of Yeemik, return to your new body!” Erwen called out. The new body began to glow. “Wait, he’s not going to come back as a Tiefling, is he?” Varien shouted. “Fiendsbane might have an opinion on that.” There was a flash and the stink of sulphur. “Oh no,” Varien said. A naked Tiefling stood before the party at the centre of a rapidly-dissipating cloud of hellfire. “What trickery is this?” Yeemik said in a new, deeper voice. “Not moments ago, I bore witness to the great Maglubiyet on his throne of flaming iron and was eager to carry out his command to war against the petitioners of Gruumsh, and now…” he examined himself, and caught sight of the horns cast by his shadow on the snow. “Aw, c’mon!” he exclaimed. Siegfried’s eyes were wide. “That’s…that’s a good look for you, Yeemik,” he said. “Speak not!” Yeemik growled, turning to face the party. “I remember now. I surrended…I surrendered and you killed me!” “Oh no we didn’t,” Siegfried said. “We offered you a job, you accepted, and then the Black Spider’s minions killed you.” Yeemik’s eyes flashed red. He threw his horned head back and yelled “NEZZNAR!” in a deep voice that echoed across the mountainside. Siegfried was already handing the Tiefling a set of breastplate armor. “We couldn’t save your shield, but your flail is still in working condition.” “Wait, wait, wait,” Varien said, pointing a finger at Erwen accusingly. “That’s twice you’ve brought someone back as a Tiefling! Is there something you’re not telling us, Erwen?” Erwen shrugged sheepishly. “It’s not my fault if fiends are attracted to you guys!” “We’re not summoning him back for some sort of servitude, are we?” Varien continued. Siegfried shook his head. “He had to want to return to his body in order for Erwen’s spell to work his magic. He was already enslaved to his deity. This, this feels like it’s personal.” Varien turned to Yeemik. “Understand this, Tiefling. You are now on the thinnest of ice water. Skating on the sharpest of blades. And you should think with great care lest you fall through them both.” Hells yeah rattled Fiendsbane. Yeemik the Tiefling was standing over the corpse of Yeemik the Goblin, looking down with a curious expression on his face as Varien spoke. "Huh," he said. "I always thought of myself as taller..." he turned back to the party, dismissed Varien with a wave and glared at Bob. “I swore vengeance on you once…but now I thirst for vengeance against the Black Spider. His long list of crimes against the Cragmaw must be answered, and I will be the one to answer on their behalf.” He looked down at his body and flexed his fresh muscles. “And this…this I can work with.” “Okay,” Bob said. “So, for now we’re on the same team.” “Until that day, then,” Yeemik growled. He gave a severe look to the rest of the party. “Now, let’s go cut the strings from that drow puppet. We march east.” “Oh, I like this new Yeemik,” Siegfried purred as the group began to walk down the mountainside. Normal 0 false false false EN-CA ZH-CN X-NONE /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} From a hidden perch high above the Felrenden Valley, Haravak watched the proceedings, a dark expression on her face. “I witness,” she whispered to Grunhawr. “And I take the measure of all who walk this mountain.”