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| THE HUNT BEGINS
The only lead that Lavinia’s new employees had to go on in the search for her missing brother, was her allusion to the fact that he had a mistress in the Azure District, and so it was there that they began their inquiries. Azure District was Tashluta’s true waterfront, and it also housed the majority of the city’s slums and lower-class citizens, though none so desperate as might be found in Shadowshore. As in any such area, local taverns were always a good source of information, if one knew the right questions to ask, and it was in one such, the Bloodthirsty Pelican, that the fledgling adventurers found their first piece of credible news. It seemed that Vanthus had frequented the bar in the company of a woman named Brissa Santos, a notorious pickpocket turned semi-legitimate artist. It appeared that she had hitched her grifting wagon to a star with the young noble, but neither of them had been seen for several weeks. Beyond this, the trail grew cold.
Lavinia had also mentioned her fears that her brother may have fallen in with associates of “doubtful character,” including, perhaps, smugglers, thieves, or killers. As Basil and Samson, both former residents of Shadowshore, were quick to point out, just such an assortment of miscreants could be found in abundance in Tashluta’s most notorious district. At a local establishment called the Plucked Parrot, they happened upon an individual who, for a small fee, informed them that Vanthus was often seen in the company of a known smuggler named Penkus, a man notorious for his drunken binges and violent temper. Penkus had been seen less and less in the District over the past year, leading many to believe he had moved on to greener pastures. However, a few weeks earlier, Penkus and Vanthus were spotted at a boat shop called ‘It Still Floats’, where they were involved in an argument with the proprietor, a surly dwarf named Panchi.
“Yeah…I remember’em all right,” the bald dwarf said, stroking his beard. “Hoity-toity fella, and his low-life friend. Tried to swindle me out of proper payment fer one of me fine vessels.”
Thrisp looked about dubiously at some of those vessels. Though they lacked actual holes, he seriously doubted many of them were seaworthy, much less ‘fine.’
“Did you end up doing business with them?” Thrisp asked as he rolled a gold coin back and forth across his knuckles.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Panchi nodded, eyeing the sparkling coin greedily. “No one pulls one over on old Panchi, no sir! They seemed awfully worked up about somethin’, and they loaded a bunch of lamp oil, lanterns and rope on board. When they left here, they was headed west.”
“West?” Thrisp asked, lifting one eyebrow and looking at Samson.
“Parrot Island,” the dragon shaman answered.
“Yep, I guess they coulda’ headed there,” Panchi said, catching the gold coin Thrisp flipped him and biting down on it with his snaggle teeth. “Don’t see why, though. Those caves’ve been played out fer years.” Satisfied that the gold was real, he quickly pocketed it and went back into his establishment, dismissing the group with a wave.
“What’s he talking about?” Thrisp asked Samson. “As far as I know, Parrot Island is just a hunk of rock out in the harbor.”
“You’re mostly right,” Samson replied, “but it used to be something more. It was once a haven for smugglers, and rumor has it that it’s riddled with hidden tunnels and caves. Sounds like Vanthus and his friend may have found a new use for them.”
“We’ll need a boat,” Gotr grumbled, “and I guess I’ll have to pilot it again. Planning on stealing another one?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary this time,” Samson said. “I think I can convince my old boss, Vico, to loan us one if he believes there might be profit in it for the Chult Trading Concern. Hidden smuggling loot would just the sort of bait to dangle in front of him.”
“Fine,” Thrisp nodded. “You and Sepoto go and talk to him. Try to arrange it for tonight. We’ll go back and report to Lavinia.”
__________________________________________________ ___
Lavinia sighed and sank back into her chair as Thrisp finished his report.
“It’s as I feared,” she said quietly. “He’s gotten himself entangled with the sort of people who would kill him for a copper piece.” She looked up at the trio standing before her. “Please,” she whispered, “it’s more important than ever that you find him…soon.”
“We’ve already taken steps towards that end, my Lady,” Thrisp answered. “Samson and Sepoto are securing transportation for us as we speak. We plan to go to the island tonight.”
“Good,” she nodded. “I’m glad you came back here before you left, for I have some people I want you to meet. They might be of assistance to you.” Lavinia then called for Kora, her halfling servant, and instructed her to bring their other guests. The little woman bowed and scurried out, returning a short time later accompanied by two men. The first was a human, dressed in the garb of an explorer, though the material seemed of much better quality than most such outfits. He carried no weapons. His piercing green eyes were set off by a shock of fiery red hair. A glittering signet ring adorned one hand. The second man was of obvious elven ancestry. His clothes spoke of one more accustomed to soft living than manual labor. His blonde hair was cut in the latest style, and he carried a finely crafted lute slung over one shoulder. A rapier, which appeared more ornamental than practical, hung at his side.
Lavinia stood as the men entered, and gestured first to the human. “This is Lord Marius R’alan,” she said, and the man nodded. Thrisp had heard of the R’alan family, a very minor noble house in Tashluta that barely merited the title. “Marius is a member of the Seeker’s Lodge,” Lavinia continued. “As you may be aware, the Seekers are a group of explorers who have a keen interest in archaeological treasures. It seems my parents were members. The Seeker’s symbol is the one that adorned my family vault. Marius has informed me that the children of members are inducted into the Lodge on their twenty-third birthday. My parents died prior to mine, so I never learned of their involvement, but the Seekers take care of their own. They have sent Marius to me to lend his services in this time of trouble. He will travel with you on your quest to find my brother.”
Lavinia then turned to the half-elf, and it was obvious to Thrisp, Basil and Gotr that her expression warmed considerably as she introduced him.
“Allow me to also introduce Anwar Rosznar, late of Waterdeep. Anwar is my seneschal…my personal advisor.” Her eyes fairly sparkled as she spoke, and a faint smile curved her lips. Basil glanced at Gotr, and the gnome rolled his eyes.
“Anwar will be my eyes and ears on your mission. His word is my word. Heed him as you would me.” Her hand lightly stroked the bard’s arm, and he smiled indulgently at her, but when his eyes came back to the three companions, no mirth was in them. They were as cold as ice.
“Just what we need,” Gotr mumbled, “some pet boy-toy to play chaperone.”
“Begging your pardon, my Lady,” Thrisp said, clearing his throat to cover the priest’s remark, “but may I ask exactly what skills your associates might bring to our group? It would help us to know what strengths we may draw upon.”
Lavinia deferred to the two men. “I have some skill in the arcane,” Marius said, “though my talents run toward the dramatic, you might say.” Basil arched an eyebrow at this. The man sounded like an evoker. Their ilk were unpredictable, and as apt to be a danger to their friends as their enemies.
“My own abilities are more esoteric,” Anwar said, his false smile still in place. “Strictly speaking, I am a musician, and a chronicler of heroic deeds. Still, you may find that I can assist you in ways you might not expect.”
“I’m sure,” Gotr grumbled again.
“It’s settled then,” Lavinia said. “Anwar and Marius will join you tonight, and hopefully insure your success.”
Just then, there was a soft rap at the door, and Kora entered again.
“My Lady,” she bowed, “Masters Sepoto and Samson have returned.” She stood aside as the goliath and the dragon shaman entered.
“Everything’s in place,” Samson began, but when his eyes fell on the two strangers, he went silent.
“It’s ok,” Thrisp said, “Lady Vanderboren has arranged for further assistance for us.” He made cursory introductions, and Samson and Sepoto nodded in acknowledgement.
“As I was saying,” the dragon shaman continued, “all is ready for tonight. However, there has been a new development.”
Thrisp’s eyes widened slightly. “What might that be?”
“I think it’s best if we show you,” Samson said cryptically.
“Very well,” the gnome said, obviously having little patience for games. “Basil, Gotr, wait here.” He turned to follow Samson and Sepoto, but Anwar stopped them before they could leave the room.
“I think I’ll come with you as well,” he said. “I feel the need to stretch my legs.”
Thrisp glowered, but said nothing. He shrugged, and walked out the door.
When they stepped out of the manor and into the courtyard, Thrisp was surprised to see someone waiting for them there. This was another half-breed elf, though that was the only thing he had in common with Anwar. He was shifty-eyed and nervous-looking, with messy hair, and dirt under his fingernails. He wore a ragged suit of leather armor, but carried no arms.
“This is Shefton Rock,” Sepoto said. “He approached us in Shadowshore. Go on,” he gestured towards the man, “tell them what you told us.”
Shefton glanced about furtively and cleared his throat several times. “I heard you was lookin’ for a fella named Vanthus,” he said quietly. “I know where’s you can find’im, and I can take you there too.”
Thrisp eyed the man dubiously. “Just where would you come by such information?” he asked at length, “And why would you be so magnanimous as to offer it to us?”
“I know people who know people,” Shefton replied, his eyes on his feet. “I find out things, and then I sell the information to those what can pay.”
“Indeed,” Thrisp said, doubt in his voice. “I ask again, where did you come by this particular information.”
Shefton scuffed his feet on the ground for several seconds, then cleared his throat again. “This Vanthus fella, he came to me a few weeks back. Said he needed help settin’ up a smugglin’ job in the old tunnels under Parrot Island. Wanted to know if I wanted in. I told him I weren’t interested, and that was that. Then I got word some folks was askin’ around about Vanthus, and I figured you might be interested in what I know.”
Thrisp glanced at Anwar, whose face held no expression. No help there. Turning back towards Shefton, he uttered several arcane words, and then passed his hand before the half-elf’s face. Instantly, Shefton’s eyes glazed over.
“Now, my friend,” Thrisp said, smiling, and patting the man on the back, “let’s be truthful, shall we? After all, you are among allies here.” Shefton nodded like an eager puppy. “Did Vanthus send you to us to set us up?” Thrisp asked without preamble. Shefton looked shame-faced, his eyes downcast.
“I can’t lie to ya, Mister Thrisp,” he said. “He told me to bring ya to the island. He was plannin’ some kinda ambush for ya there.”
“I see,” Thrisp said, his voice kind. “Do you know what sort of ambush he had planned?”
“No sir,” Shefton shook his head. “He didn’t tell me that part. Just said I should bring ya. He promised to introduce me to some powerful friends of his if I did. Said I’d be movin’ up in the world.”
“Of course,” Thrisp said in a tone of total understanding. “You understand now, though, that he was lying to you, don’t you?”
Shefton looked unsure, “I…guess.”
“Come now!” the gnome said, patting his shoulder. “You trust me, don’t you?” Shefton nodded. “Good, then trust me when I tell you that you were being set up just as we were. Vanthus was making a fool of you. It’s good that you came to us when you did. Now we can turn the tables on him.”
At that point, fear entered Shefton’s eyes. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I crossed’im.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Thrisp said reassuringly. “He’ll never know. In fact, you don’t even have to come with us. Why don’t you just draw us a map to where these tunnels are? You can do that, can’t you?”
Shefton nodded eagerly. At that point, Anwar coughed loudly. Thrisp looked up, and the bard jerked his head, nodding towards the foyer of the manor house.
“Samson and Sepoto here will find you some paper and ink,” the gnome said, rising. “I’ll be back in just a moment to see how you’re progressing.”
Thrisp followed Anwar back into the house.
“Well done out there,” the bard said once they were out of ear-shot. “Lavinia will be pleased. When that little worm is done with the map, he won’t be of any further use to us.”
Thrisp’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying he’s a loose end,” Anwar answered. “A loose end we can’t afford to leave lying about. Dispose of him.”
“You mean…kill him?” Thrisp asked, struggling to keep the shock from his voice.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Anwar asked, arching his brow. “This man was preparing to take part in a plot to kill you. He’s a criminal.”
“Yes, but…I don’t know.” Thrisp was truly at a loss for words. Lavinia had not struck him as the cold-blooded sort. How could she have involved herself with someone like this? “Why can’t we just turn him over to the Watch?” he asked after a moment.
“Squeamish, are you?” Anwar sneered. “That’s a trait that might get you into trouble some time. Very well then, we’ll do it your way.” Without another word, he walked past the gnome and back into the courtyard.
“Ah, splendid!” he said as he approached Shefton, who had finished the map. The half-elf smiled sheepishly.
“Sepoto,” Anwar said, turning to the goliath, “this man is a criminal, guilty of attempted murder. Subdue him, while I alert the Watch.”
Both Shefton’s and Sepoto’s jaws dropped. Quickly the goliath looked at Thrisp. After a moment, the gnome nodded, then turned away.
“But…” Shefton began, but never finished as a chain-wrapped fist connected with his temple and he dropped as if pole-axed.
“Strip him,” Anwar commanded as he walked towards the front gate. A Watch kiosk stood just across the street, and he strode over to it and blew the whistle that was attached there.
By the time the Watch arrived, Sepoto and Samson had Shefton stripped, bound and gagged, though he was still unconscious.
“It’s about time you arrived,” Anwar said indignantly as the patrolmen entered the courtyard. “This ruffian climbed naked over the wall and attempted to break into Lady Vanderboren’s home. Her private guards were forced to take action and subdue him when he refused to leave quietly. My Lady’s taxes pay your salaries, as I’m sure you are aware. She expects better from the city’s civil servants. Is it not enough that she’s had to endure the loss of her parents? Now common street vermin trespass in her home. Is no one safe inside their own walls?”
The Watch commander apologized profusely, all the while urging his men to get Shefton off the grounds, which they did hastily under Anwar’s withering stare. Once they were gone, the bard turned to address Thrisp, Samson and Sepoto.
“Good work, men. I think we’ll work out just fine together, now that we understand each other. I advise you to make what preparations you need before tonight.” He nodded to them, and walked back into the house.
“I’m not sure we’re getting paid enough,” Thrisp spat as he watched the dandy go.
__________________________________________________ ___
Parrot Island was little more than a rocky outcropping surrounded by thirty-foot high cliffs, save for a narrow beach located at its eastern end. It was thickly vegetated, with its trees serving as the roost for the hundreds of noisy, brightly colored parrots which gave the island its name. When Gotr guided the launch to the beachhead, Anwar was the first ashore. He was dressed in Shefton’s clothes, and had even died his blonde hair a greasy black. If Thrisp hadn’t known it was him, he would have sworn he was looking at the unfortunate informant. It was the bard’s idea to carry on with Shefton’s original plan of leading them into Vanthus’ trap, but with any luck, it would be the errant noble who would be snared. Despite his misgivings about the half-elf, Thrisp had to admit that it was a sound strategy, and Anwar truly was a man of many talents.
Following Shefton’s map, they found an overgrown trail leading into the island’s interior. It ended at a small clearing. The map showed that there was a trap door at the southern end of the area. Anwar pointed in that direction, as if he were showing the others where to look. It didn’t take Thrisp long to uncover the wooden door, and when he opened it, he found a five-foot wide shaft leading down into darkness. A rope hung from a hook in one wall, providing a relatively safe method of descent.
“Let me go first.” Anwar said. “Vanthus is expecting to see Shefton, so we’ll give him what he wants.” The bard dropped into the hole, descending rapidly down the rope. One-by-one the others followed, with Thrisp bringing up the rear.
__________________________________________________ ___
Vanthus watched the party descend from his concealment. Clever bunch, this group, but it was obvious that fool Shefton had failed. Had it truly been the informant who led them to the island, he would have known exactly where the trap door was and wouldn’t have had to search for it. The plan had been for him to remain above while he sent Lavinia’s snoops below. The fact that Shefton had gone first, uncoerced, further confirmed to Vanthus that the real thief was probably dead. No matter. Astute though they may be, they had still played right into his hands. Silently, he crept across the clearing.
__________________________________________________ ____
The group found themselves in a low-ceilinged, cramped room. A brick-lined tunnel with a curved roof led to the west. There was no illumination, so Marius struck a torch. Thrisp could tell the tunnel was old, but it appeared sound enough. He nodded the all-clear to Anwar, and the bard moved to take the lead once more. Suddenly, a hissing sound came from behind them. As one they turned, just in time to see the rope come slithering down the shaft, cut from above. A laughing voice called down to them: “Nice try, lackeys! Say hello to Penkus for me!” Then came the sound of a solid thud…the trapdoor closing. This was followed by a loud, grinding sound. They were sealed in.
“Well I guess there’s no need for this any more,” Anwar said, shrugging off Shefton’s cloak.
“Um…was this part of your plan?” Basil asked.
“Obviously not,” Anwar snapped, “but it seems like the plan has changed. I see only one way to go, unless you have some other suggestion.”
The young wizard remained silent.
“Anyone else?” the bard said, his cold eyes meeting theirs. “No? Good. That settles that. Sepoto, lead on.”
The goliath glared at the half-elf, but he was too busy to notice, dusting off his clothes and arranging his lute. Sullenly, the crusader elbowed his way to the front and proceeded down the tunnel.
The twisting passage ended at a soggy, wooden door, swollen shut in its frame. A strong shoulder-thrust by Sepoto forced the portal open, and a second, wider hall was revealed, this one running perpendicular to the one the group just came from. At either end of this corridor was a pair of double doors, partially ajar. Cautiously, Sepoto moved towards the right-hand pair of doors, the others following, and fanning out along the wide hall. Just before the goliath reached the doors, he stopped abruptly, holding up one hand.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered over his shoulder to Thrisp. The gnome nodded. He too had heard a soft shuffling noise coming from just beyond the doors. Sepoto eased forward again, motioning for the rest to form up behind him. When he reached the doors, he quickly grabbed the one that was partially open, and swung it wide. The light from Marius’ torch partially illuminated a large, mostly empty chamber. Several smashed crates, and the remains of over-turned furniture were scattered along the walls. A second pair of half-open doors were in the far wall, while a closed, single door stood on the same side of the room as Sepoto, just a few yards north. The goliath took in all of these details peripherally. What drew most of his attention were the three figures standing motionless near the room’s center. At first, he took them to be human, but as they lurched forward into the torchlight, he saw that whatever they may have been in life, they were now the walking dead. They were dressed in rags, though one wore an eye patch, while a second bore a hook where its left hand was, and the third sported a peg leg. All three of them had massively oversized jaws, and when they opened them, uttering low moans, row upon row of jagged teeth were revealed.
“Clear the doors!” Marius shouted, and Sepoto quickly stepped aside. Still holding the torch in one hand, the Seeker curled the other into a fist, and a ball of crackling fire appeared there. Cocking his arm back, he hurled the sphere into the nearest zombie, which promptly ignited like a giant candle. Yet on it still came. Basil stepped beside Marius, drawing a slender wand from his sleeve. He spoke a word, and a missile of light streaked towards the immolated, walking corpse.
“Gotr!” the wizard shouted over his shoulder. “Can’t you do something about this? I thought priests hated dead things that won’t stay dead!”
The gnome looked puzzled for a moment, and then looked down at the holy symbol which hung around his neck, as if he’d forgotten that it was there. Stepping forward, he held it boldly out before him.
“In the name of Oghma, I command you to return to your eternal slumber!” he shouted. The zombies quailed as the medallion flared with light, then they turned and began shambling towards the opposite side of the room.
“What do you know?” Gotr said, staring at the holy symbol curiously. “It actually worked.”
Sepoto shouldered past the gnome, uncoiling his chain as he went. When the zombies reached the far doors, they began struggling to pull them open. The goliath snapped the chain at the nearest one, ripping loose a hunk of putrid flesh. From behind him came another sizzling bolt from Basil, and then Samson was at his side. The dragon shaman swung his morningstar, connecting solidly with the skull of the zombie Sepoto had just hit, caving it in like a rotten melon. The undead horror collapsed to the floor. A moment later, its flaming companion crumbled as well. The third zombie managed to get the door open, and began shuffling as fast as its peg leg could carry it down the darkened hall beyond.
At that moment, more moans filled the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. When Samson and Sepoto looked back towards their fleeing quarry, they saw it disappear around a bend in the hall. Another set of ajar doors stood in the right-hand wall just before the turn. By this time, Gotr had joined the two warriors, his medallion still clutched in one hand. Samson moved quickly to the nearby doors and peered in, but just as he did so, the portals were flung open. Another trio of walking corpses stood just on the other side, their moans echoing down the hall.
“In the name of…” Gotr said, stepping forward, but in that moment, one of the zombies lunged. Unhinging its jaw, it fastened its teeth around the priest’s neck, lifting him, kicking from the ground. Then the undead behind it seized the gnome’s foot, and sank its fangs into his ankle. Gotr tried to scream, but only a gurgle came from his crushed windpipe.
Thrisp, Marius and Basil began hurrying across the first chamber, but as they did so, they heard something heavy strike the single door behind them. It shuddered in its frame, but held. Anwar edged quickly to the far side of the room, unslinging his lute as he went. Then, to the utter bewilderment of his companions, he began to sing. The tune was not a familiar one, but his fingers picked at the strings of his instrument expertly, and Thrisp actually caught himself tapping one of his feet. The words to the song said something about ‘not fearing the reaper,’ but the gnome couldn’t make much sense of the meaning. Still, as the music swelled, he found some of his tension and fear leave him. The others seemed to feel it as well, for he could see them relax visibly, the panicky edge leaving their eyes.
Sepoto felt filled with energy. He stepped forward towards the struggling Gotr, and to Samson’s watching eyes, everything seemed to move in slow motion. The goliath spun himself in a full circle, his chain trailing him by a fraction of a second. Its wickedly barbed end caught the zombie holding Gotr across the forehead, almost removing the top of its cranium. As he struck, a rush of power like a warm, spring breeze pulsed for a brief moment, and incredibly, Gotr’s bleeding began to slow, though he still remained firmly in the grip of his assailant. In fact, the zombie bit deeper into the gnome’s throat, shaking him in his mouth like a dog would a rat. The second zombie still had the priest’s leg, and it tore a large chunk out of his calf. Gotr went limp, his skin deathly pale. Releasing its bite, the first zombie dropped him to the floor.
Just then, the door in the first chamber splintered, and three more zombies spilled into the room. They were followed by a fourth walking corpse, but this one did not move with the same shambling gait as the others, and it was dressed in rusted chainmail. Around its neck hung a tarnished, silver disc which bore the symbol of a highway man’s mask. Thrisp recognized it as the sign of Mask, god of thieves. What had they stumbled into? To his further amazement, the creature began to speak in a gurgling croak, chanting the words to a prayer of warding. A corpse priest? Things did not look good. Still, the gnome thought, perhaps the trick he had used in the Vanderboren vault might serve him again here. Quickly, he began the words to his spell, conjuring the image of an iron wall across the middle of the chamber, separating himself and his companions from the newly arrived undead. He held his breath for a moment, but when he heard the roar of frustration from the priest, he knew his ploy had worked…at least for the time being.
The zombie that had bitten Gotr now lumbered towards Sepoto, but a flick of the goliath’s chain pulled the undead’s legs from under it. It tried to rise, but Sepoto snapped his chain loose, and then flicked again, this time wrapping it around the zombie’s neck. When he pulled it loose this time, the corpse’s head came with it. Samson rushed into the gap and pulled Gotr to safety. As he did so, a soft, golden glow surrounded the dragon shaman, flowing into the gnome. To Samson’s immense relief, though his eyes remained closed, Gotr began to breath regularly again.
“How did you do that?” Marius asked Thrisp as the gnome continued to concentrate on his figment.
“Ancient gnomish secret,” Thrisp said through gritted teeth. “Now watch my next trick.” Before Marius’ eyes, the iron wall began to rust and pit, rapidly melting away until only iron bars remained, still holding the undead at bay.
“You’ve see what I can do,” Thrisp snapped. “Now show me some of your tricks.”
A smile quirked on corner of Marius’ mouth, and he stepped forward, hands before him, fingers spread. Suddenly, a fan of flames shot from his fingertips, flowing through the bars and engulfing all of the undead on the far side.
Seeing that Gotr would be ok, Samson hefted his morningstar and rushed back to Sepoto’s side. As a second zombie emerged into the corridor, he swung, crushing its clavicle. The creature reeled to one side, where Sepoto smashed it back towards his comrade with a whip-crack of his chain. As it careened towards the dragon shaman, he swung again, splattering what was left of the zombie’s brains against the wall. Then he whirled to meet the charge of a third zombie, catching it with a glancing blow to the face just as it sank its teeth into his arm. Samson cried out in pain, but Sepoto was already in motion, wrapping his chain around the creature’s neck and pulling it taut with a satisfying snap.
The undead priest was once a man named Veldimar Krund. Years beyond counting ago, he had become trapped in the underground tunnels, along with several other members of his smuggling band, when a battle with a rival gang resulted in a collapse of the warren’s sea entrance. It wasn’t long before their supplies ran out, and Veldimar and his companions resorted to cannibalism, turning on each other until only the priest remained. Ultimately, he too perished in a gruesome attempt to amputate his own foot for a meal. Upon his death, Mask cursed him and his cronies, returning them to a horrible half-life in which their hunger could never be sated. Veldimar’s mind was mostly gone now, but he still retained a spark of intelligence…enough to realize that it was the gnome on the far side of the bars that had created the barrier in the first place. Thus, it was him that Veldimar targeted with a spell designed to cause the recipient to flee in blind panic. For a moment, Thrisp felt the fear wash over him, but then the strains of Anwar’s song emboldened him once more, and he held his ground. Marius spoke the words to his spell again, and once more flames washed over Veldimar and his companions. They were all horribly burned and even more disfigured than they had been before, but still they stood.
“I’ve got your back,” Basil said from behind Marius, and he sent a volley of fiery missiles hurtling at Veldimar. The priest was blown back several feet, where he collapsed against a wall, and did not rise again.
“Thanks,” the Seeker said, “but I had it under control.” He spoke the words to a minor incantation, and one of the zombies simply exploded in a puff of dust and stale air.
With Samson’s help, Gotr staggered to his feet. Clutching his amulet, the gnome began to pray, healing his wounds as he did so.
“I’m fine,” he said, shrugging off the dragon shaman’s supporting hand. Samson nodded, and turned back for the main chamber, Sepoto following. When he entered the room, he saw the iron bars, but they looked somewhat misty and insubstantial. It was then that he realized Thrisp was up to his old tricks. Quickly he stepped towards one of the two remaining zombies and swung his weapon.
“No!” Thrisp shouted, but it was too late. As the morningstar passed through the bars, the illusion was pierced, and even the mindless undead could perceive that they were not real. The cage dissipated as Thrisp lost his concentration. Sepoto shoved past Samson just as the zombies surged forward.
“Oghma says, get the hell outta here!” came a raspy voice from behind the combatants, stopping the zombies mid-stride. At once, they shambled away from the blazing light of Gotr’s holy symbol, heading back towards the ruined door through which they’d come. As they retreated, Basil sent another missile from his wand into the back of the trailing one, and Samson grazed it with a parting shot from his morningstar.
“Um…fellas, you missed one!” Thrisp called to his comrades as they pursued the fleeing undead. From down the corridor where it had fled, came the other zombie that Gotr had originally turned. It seemed to have overcome its fear of the gnome’s faith. Once more Thrisp began to work his magic, this time creating the illusion of a solid, steel cube surrounding the zombie. He could see through his own veils, and he smiled as he saw the undead turning round and round in a circle, unable to escape its imaginary prison.
The fleeing zombie found itself trapped in a small storage room with a sealed door on the far side. As it cowered in the corner, Gotr strode casually up to it, and laid one hand on its forehead. He spoke the words to the same healing prayer that had mended his wounds, but this time the magic proved lethal to the unliving corpse, searing the flesh from its bones, leaving nothing but a pile of ash.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Thrisp said to Basil and Marius. Both wizards nodded and the gnome released his spell. Before the trapped zombie could move, it was struck simultaneously by Basil’s magic missile and Marius’ disruption spell. It never knew what hit it.
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When it seemed no more undead were coming, the company regrouped in the main hall they had first entered. A thorough search of the eastern passage and the empty rooms there had turned up nothing, including no way out. They then moved to the western doors and the chamber beyond them. Four great wooden pillars rose to support the ceiling of the room, which sagged dangerously in places, and was thick with hanging strands of fungus. Several doors lined the walls, including one to the west from behind which could be heard a muffled sloshing sound. To the south, the ceiling had collapsed, leaving that part of the chamber choked with debris. A rippling pool of water reached halfway into the room from the wall of stone and rubble. It seemed that a wooden pier once extended into the pool, but all that remained were several rotting wooden pilings protruding from the water. A man’s body floated face down among them.
This corpse proved to be well and truly dead, bloated by its time in the water, and half-eaten by scavengers. A strange tattoo was visible on one, pale shoulder: an intricate drawing of a dragon clutching a flower. The rest of the room and pool were unremarkable, save for a colony of nasty-tempered crabs the size of cats which were quickly dispatched by Sepoto and Samson.
The sloshing sound from beyond the western door came from the churning waters of a natural sea cave. Fueled by powerful, submerged currents, the water lapped and splashed against the walls of the twisting natural tunnel which continued west. A sandy slope descended from the door down to the edge of the subterranean tide. Dozens of purple and red sea urchins glistened in the shallow divots along the ground and lower walls, their spines glittering with sea spray. The group continued forward, wading through water than rapidly went from ankle deep, to well over their heads. Some swam, while others walked along the bottom, weighed down by their armor and gear. Soon they entered a large pool, which sloped gradually up towards the west to a small, sandy area, and a locked door. Samson and Sepoto made quick work of the barrier, revealing a small, dry room on the other side. The smell from the chamber was horrific, a cloying stink of rotten meat rising from the bloated, seeping body slumped in the middle of the room. The corpse’s dark, almost black flesh bulged against its armor, ready to burst at the slightest touch. The same tattoo they had seen on the other body was barely visible on the shoulder of this one, and clutched in one hand was a crumpled scroll.
Again, the body was dead dead, and Thrisp pried the parchment free from its cold, hand with a look of disgust. Unfolding it, he read it aloud:
‘These bones once be Penkus, so if ye read this, I be dead, laid low by the sick put on me by that foul, dead thing! Yet even as me flesh wracks, know t’was not the dead what brought my doom, but one I ‘til recently called friend.
Vanthus Vanderboren! Your name fills me with bile! Spineless, treacherous cur! You left us here to die. You left ME here to die, after all what I done t’get ye into th’Lotus! Yer designs on the Lady of the Lotus be clear now, and with meself out th’way…ye doubtless move even now into power, slithering amid my vacancy like a hermit crab in a shell, or a Kyuss worm to still warm flesh. CURSE UPON YE!
To th’one what reads this. If ye have any honor or vengeance in yer soul, know that Vanthus must die. He dwells in the lap o’th’Lotus, below th’Taxidermist’s Hall. Seek him there, but ‘fore he dies, he must ken it were Penkus what undid him and guides yer killing blow.
And if, by some cruel spite of fate, it be ye what read this, Vanthus, know with certainty I wait for ye in Hell, where I intend t’rival the pit itself in yer torment!”
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"Solve a man's problems with violence, help him for a day. TEACH a man to solve his problems with violence, help him for a lifetime!" |
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I have two words to say to Anwar: neutral evil. 
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