The reborn Tiefling led the adventurers down the
mountainside, heedless of the deteriorating weather. Siegfried followed,
equally disdainful of the cold. “So,” Siegfried called out to his companions. “The plan is,
we find the Black Spider, rescue the scions, and then torture the Black Spider.
Sound good?” “I don't know about torture,” Theryn called out as he walked
across a snowdrift without breaking its crust. “Let’s start with the rescuing of
the children.” “Yes, yes,” Siegfried replied. “Rescue the children, drag
the Black Spider back here, preferably with his legs broken, and let him face
gnome justice. As a half-orc, let me assure you, it’s the best justice.” He paused
and watched a ridge of snow on the far side of the valley give up and tumble
into oblivion in the valley below. “Of course, if he should happen to die,” “You mean if we murder him,” Theryn interjected. Siegfried held up a hand. “If he should happen to die, Erwen
can bring him back. Maybe we can take turns-” “I can only do that once!” Erwen shouted above the wind. “That also works,” Siegfried said with a shrug. He turned
back to watch Yeemik absently demolish another snowdrift as he marched. The warlock
discreetly cast detect thoughts on the Tiefling as he approached. Yeemik’s thoughts were of the Black Spider, and they were
not positive. Siegfried detected a slew of ill feelings towards Nezznar, and it
was clear without probing deeper that the Tiefling considered the Black Spider
a coward and a puppet. “Lead the way, my good Tiefling!” he said. “We can talk
while we walk.” Yeemik grunted. “So, you have had previous encounters with my adventuring
companions here, as I understand it?” Siegfried pressed. Yeemik’s thoughts about the party members were no less dark
than those about the Black Spider. “You could say that,” he growled. “Well then, please humour me as the new man about town,”
Siegfried continued. “What’s the Black Spider’s goal? Is it related to that
Dread Circle in Neverwinter Wood?” Yeemik said nothing, but his thoughts roiled. “I’m just looking for an angle here,” Siegfried pressed. “And
you’re just the person to set me to rights.” “Power,” Yeemik spat. “Nezznar has been hungry for it ever
since he was expelled from the Underdark.” “Ah yes, the Underdark,” Siegfried mused. “Living under the
manicured thumb of a matriarchy didn’t agree with the Black Spider, did it? For
a male drow to be exiled above ground, he must not be in the good graces of his
ever-loving Lolth worshippers, then?” Yeemik chuckled in spite of himself. “What did he do, bed the wrong priestess of Lolth?”
Siegfried asked. “Whatever it was, it got him sent far away from home,”
Yeemik muttered. “Not that he was overfond of explaining his predicament to the
help, which is what we Cragmaw were to him at the end of the day.” He chuckled
again. “Klaarg used to refer to it as the Drow’s ‘tangled web’.” “Some sort of financial debt, perhaps?” Siegfried pressed. Yeemik shrugged. “The coin flowed freely,” he said with a
wry smile. “In fact, it flowed through him.” “Well, I’ve met my share of patriarchal drow in Waterdeep
who were, shall we say, involuntarily celibate,” Siegfried said. “They often
found themselves caught up in all manner of unseemly pursuits to make up for their…inadequacies.” “There’s that tangled web again,” Yeemik said. “Nezznar’s
been busy with a number of power plays since before Wave Echo Cave, and all the
while, he’s been doing it on behalf of others.”
“What do you mean?” Siegfried asked.
“The Black Spider styles himself a leader, but someone has been pulling his
strings since before he hired the Cragmaw goblins.” “Someone, eh?” Siegfried pondered this. “Could it have been
someone fiendish, like the Ashmadai?” Yeemik snorted. “The Ashmadai? The Black Spider competes
with the Ashmadai, he doesn’t deal with them. No, it’s an elven harlot who has
been pulling his strings since before he began his search for Wave Echo Cave.” “Well, well, well,” Siegfried said. “A woman. That tracks,
certainly.” “She paid Nezznar to hire the Cragmaw, the Redbrands, and
the Sons of Gruumsh to do her dirty work in the Sword Coast,” Yeemik explained.
“The Black Spider was always a middleman.” “This woman,” Siegfried said. “Did you ever see her
yourself?” Yeemik nodded.
“With your permission, I’d like to borrow your memories if I could,” Siegfried
said, casting encode thoughts as he pulled out the strand of thoughts and
memory into a glowing length of ectoplasm. The remembrance coalesced into a
visible form of a beautiful elven woman wearing the battle armor and robes of a
cleric of Tymora. “That’s Sister Garaele!” Varien blurted out. “Wasn’t Xylon interested
in her back in Phandalin?”
Bob bristled at the mention of Xylon. “Interested in bedding her, you mean.” “I remember that it seemed like he knew her even though we’d
never been to Phandalin before, like she was family, maybe even his sister,”
Varien continued. “But after he left, when I went to the Shrine of Luck to ask
after her, she’d disappeared as well. I thought it strange.” The name triggered a memory in Siegfried. “Wait, did you say
Garaele? There was a Harper agent stationed near Phandalin named Garaele. She
was a Harper.” Yeemik chuckled. “Well, she wasn't a very good Harper,
because she hired the Black Spider to wipe out the Harpers of Neverwinter Wood.” That stopped Siegfried in his tracks. He cast sending to
Remallia Haventree. We need a burn notice on Garaele. She’s funded the Black
Spider to commit massacres in the Sword Mountains, steal children for orc magic,
assassinating Harpers. “Damn,” Erwen piped up, puffing on his new pipe. “All this
politicking is over my head.” He retreated a ways and thought about Haravak. “Wait a moment,” Theryn said. “Time and again we’ve been
running across handfuls of Elven coin wherever we’ve encountered trouble in and
around Neverwinter Wood. Those crescent-shaped coins, what did Radagast call
them?”
“Ruendils,” Siegfried replied. “Right,” Theryn continued. “We found them in Cragmaw Castle,
and we found them in the pockets of those orcs at Wyvern Tor, where we also
found bloodied Harper pins. And even Stragger Forgebar had a purse full of them
here in the mountains.” He nodded to Siegfried as he produced a handful of the
platinum ruendils. “You’ve seen these somewhere before?” Siegfried nodded and turned to Erwen. “Small man, do you
know how to scry?” “Scraw!” Erwen called back. “Funny you should mention scrying,” Yeemik said. “The Black
Spider hired us to steal a scrying stone from a caravan of explorers in
Neverwinter Wood.” He nodded at Alec. “That’s how that one came to be in
Cragmaw Castle in the first place.” “And that’s how my friends came to be slaughtered in the woods,”
Alec growled. “Nothing personal,” Yeemik shrugged. “But again, that was
another power play for the Black Spider. He was playing both sides, competing
against the Eldreth Veluuthra to get those scrying stones.” “These coins all have the same Elven script on them,” Theryn
said. “Yes, you’re right!” Siegfried said, inspecting the coins
from the various sources. Something about that script looked unsettlingly
familiar to him. “Wait!” Siegfried said, digging through his pack. He pulled
out the copy he’d made of the smeared Elven insignia from the Orc sketchbook
that he’d since given to Narvos Heg. “It’s the same symbol,” he said, as the
connections began to fall into place. “And the coins are inscribed with the word
‘Forlin.’ And this scripting looks suspiciously like the border demarcations in
this ancient map that you found in Wave Echo Cave among the possessions of that
wraith. The map inside the book written by Arthanas, Blade-King of Elembar.” He
pulled out the map and clapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course!”
Varien scowled. “Of course what?”
“If I’m remembering my geography lessons, there was an ancient Elven realm in
the High Forest centred around the Shining Throne of Delimbiyr,” Siegfried
explained. “Most of the elves retreated to Evermeet hundreds of years ago, but
there was a successor kingdom that went by a number of names, including the
Shining Court, and the Kingdom of Aval’ynn .
The ruling family goes by the name Forlin, in the language of the Tel’Quessir,
which translates to-” “Northmere,” Bob said grimly. “So am I to understand that our
fairweather friend Xylon is a prince whose sister has been hiring goblins and
orcs to wreak havoc along the Sword Coast?” Varien frowned. "I thought he was traveling under the name Nightshade," he said. "That insignia is the same one from Xylon's heirloom dagger," Bob said. "I recognize the script." “Okay, okay, okay,” Siegfried said. “We’re making a lot of
connections but we’re getting off track.” He turned to Yeemik. “Where has the
Black Spider taken the scions of Ieirithymbul right now?” “He handed them over to the Sons of Gruumsh,” Yeemik said. “There
was talk of something called a bloodspear. But they were to be taken to Tholl
Sla-Houk.” Siegfried shrugged. “Small man,” he said to Erwen. “Are you able to
scout ahead as an eagle? Using your eagle eyes?” “I can,” Erwen said shiftily. “But I think I’d rather stay on the ground.” “Why is that?” Siegfried asked. “No reason,” Erwen said, maintaining a poker face as he thought
about Haravak. “You have the smell of a liar on you,” Siegfried said, glaring at
Erwen. He turned to Varien. “You know, I’ve been thinking that perhaps our
small friend here is an infernal spy, which is why he keeps reincarnating people
as Tieflings.”
“What?” Varien said. What? Fiendsbane rattled. “Yes, no mortal could lie as effortlessly
as Erwen does,” Siegfried said. “Heh, that tracks,” said Yeemik. “Yes, infernal spies lie so well,“
Siegfried said. “And
they serve to either kill or draw fire.” Erwen shrugged
and kept walking through the snow. A blizzard now raged around them. “Are you
serious with this?” Varien asked. “No, I’m just
trying to make him sweat,” Siegfried whispered. “Speaking of which, all this
walking smacks of effort. Why aren’t we flying?” Yeemik
frowned and for the first time looked uncertain. “Well, it’s not like I saw
their destination from the air.” “But you do
know where we’re going?” Siegfried asked pointedly. “Because to me it doesn’t
sound like you actually know where you’re going, which calls your usefulness
into question.” “Well, I
heard it secondhand,” Yeemik said, bristling. “Where the orcs were going to, I mean.
Mount Stonefang, to the east.” “Well then,”
Siegfried said. “Let’s go.” He turned to Erwen. “Small man, turn us into clouds
please.” “What is
going on?” Erwen asked. “First you ask for my help, then you accuse me of being
a devil spy, and now you’re asking for my help again?” “We want to
go save some children,” Siegfried said. “And look at Bob and Alec,” he pointed
to the Trevelyan brothers who were shivering in the cold. “They need to get
moving before they freeze.” Snow continued to fall as Erwen looked
around. “You sow discord and discontent, Siegfried, and I won’t forget this.” “You look lost,” a woman’s voice said
from behind them. The group turned around to see a green-skinned
woman pulling a hood down from her head. A scar ran across her half-orc
features. Next to her, a dire bear crouched, snorting and growling. Erwen felt light-headed and had to
fight to stay upright. “Where did you come from?” Siegfried
sputtered. “Where did you come
from?” the woman asked Siegfried in Orcish. “I am Siegfried Alagondar, scion of
Neverwinter,” Siegfried replied in Orcish. “A city boy, eh?” the woman said. “Did
a human give you that surname?” “Guilty as charged,” Siegfried replied.
He nodded to the whirling snow around them. “Love what you’ve done with the
place.” “Wherever it is you’re heading,” the
woman said. “You won’t like it. Your friends won’t like it.” “I’m able to take care of the more
fragile ones in our party,” Siegfried said as he reached down and ruffled Erwen’s
hair. “I can provide shelter on a whim.” Erwen couldn’t understand orcish, but he knew when someone
was trying to have a laugh at his expense. He added that slight to his mental
ledger. I will take the high road, he thought to himself. Let
Siegfried burn his bridges. “We are on the trail of a drow who has betrayed gnomes to an
orcish warband, the Sons of Gruumsh,” Siegfried was saying in Orcish. “Have you
laid eyes on them?” “There are many bands of orcs lurking in these mountains,”
the woman replied. “The wind may blow freely, but my knowledge does not.” “Oh, so this is a negotiation?” Siegfried said. “I do love
negotiating.” The woman turned and spoke in Common to Erwen. “Small man,
does this one speak for all of you?” “Likely not,” Theryn was quick to interject. “I don't know what Siegfried said to you,” Erwen said. “But
we are searching for lost children.” “And does this Siegfried have the deepest pockets among you?”
Haravak asked Erwen. “Likely so,” Siegfried said with a smile. “Wait a minute,” Theryn said. “We told you that we’re
searching for children, stolen by orcs, and you want money in return for
helping us save those children?” The dire bear growled and glared at Theryn. “Honestly,” Siegfried sighed. “It’s as if you’ve never been
to an aristocratic charity drive before.” Haravak nodded. “Fair,” she said. “So…” Theryn said.
“So I’m not yet entirely sure of your intentions,” the woman said. “Whether
they are as honorable as you claim.”
“Well, if we’re going to do this, I suggest we do this haggling out of the
wind,” Siegfried said as he prepared to cast Leomund’s tiny hut . “Some
of our party are ready to freeze to death.”
The half-orc woman nodded. “Yes, let’s dicker.”