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The Stepchildren of Fate (Updated 6/3)
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<blockquote data-quote="htetickrt" data-source="post: 1927157" data-attributes="member: 16534"><p><em>So, it's been just short of three months since my last update. My apologies to my readers, assuming I still have any. <img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/nervous.png" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":heh:" title="Nervous Laugh :heh:" data-shortname=":heh:" /> The lull corresponded with a lull in the campaign from which the story arises. We took a break right before the fourth part, and are still breaking, as of this writing. Hopefully, this will spur us to start again. I do plan on continuing to write more often, for what it's worth. This particular installment covers the introduction of a new character/player, so if you've quite reasonably forgotten all that has gone before, there's a brief summary a little more than halfway through. As an additional incentive to pick this up again, I've already written the next installment, and after I get done a few more, my notes become much more easily translatable to story hour form, for faster posting.</em></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">Erdrick of Cormyr and Alisannara Morcane</p><p></p><p>Kyree mulls over purchases in his head for a time before interrupting the party's thoughtful silence. "I have devised several alternatives for use of our gold and for raising Khail that we could discuss."</p><p></p><p>Trella's eyebrow rises reflexively. "Oh, have you now?"</p><p></p><p>Kyree, as usual, misses the tone. "Yes. Would you like to hear them?"</p><p></p><p>"Don't take this the wrong way, but why is it you always have alternatives when gold is involved?"</p><p></p><p>Kyree shrugs. "It's easier. When there are enemies, my mind goes blank and I just want to shoot them. Spending gold has more options associated with it."</p><p></p><p>Trella looks surprised. "I wasn't aware you had thought about this."</p><p></p><p>"I am more than meets the eye."</p><p></p><p>"Like a transformer?"</p><p></p><p>"A what?"</p><p></p><p>"You know, those elven toys that change form. Seriously, the phrase is trademarked. You could get into trouble."</p><p></p><p>Kyree whines, "Can I just give my alternatives?"</p><p></p><p>Trella mock bows. "By all means, guv'nor."</p><p></p><p>The elf begins, but Quid cuts him off. "Before you get going, maybe we should discuss the ridiculousness of a tri-metallic standard."</p><p></p><p>Kyree pouts. "Now you're making fun of me."</p><p></p><p>"Would I do that?" Quid is all innocence.</p><p></p><p>"How should I know? I just met you a few days ago."</p><p></p><p>"Good point. Anyway, I'll begin with the relative frequency of copper."</p><p></p><p>Kyree talks over her, spelling out the options, as he sees them.</p><p></p><p>Kai lets out a deep breath as he finishes. "I guess there isn't a reason to come back and fight the archmage immediately. I'll have to think about this more."</p><p></p><p>Kyree puffs out his chest.</p><p></p><p>"Hey, what about Dobi?" Trella asks suddenly, causing Quid to check her bag of holding. Upon discovering his body is no longer there, she snaps it shut and cries, "Oh, Dobster!" breaking down momentarily.</p><p> </p><p>Trella pats her shoulder awkwardly for the minute it takes her to collect herself. Then Kai suggests, "Perhaps information on Solom's supporters would be helpful. Powerful as he is, we could take him as a group if he were alone. In any case, as long as our mission is changing from stopping raids to saving the world, it's true that the world would be better off without him."</p><p></p><p>The sorceress grins crookedly. "You know, this is the point that Khail would nod and say something ridiculously naïve like 'Freedom's on the march.'" She scrunches up her face. "Are we sure we want him back?" She's mostly kidding. Steve whinnies angrily.</p><p></p><p>"Sorry guys," she adds, "it's just that I could do with a few days of R&R and shopping. And maybe taking in a play or a show. It's been a long time."</p><p></p><p>Trella shrugs. "I wouldn't mind getting some natural light. Another day underground and I'd become pale and even more surly than usual. My concerns are like I said before, and the closer we get to the fifth day, the worse it will be for Quid, and we don't want to see Quid go insane and something equally awful." She smiles awkwardly at her fellow priestess.</p><p></p><p>Kyree nods. “Okay, so we'll wait five days for Rhien's boots to fully recharge, and we'll pay for Khail's resurrection. Right?”</p><p></p><p>Quid agrees. "But no more; there is that whole Revenance thing to worry about."</p><p></p><p>Kyree replies, "Huh?" The rest of the trip passes in silence.</p><p></p><p>********************************************</p><p></p><p>Trella resumes her own shape to greet the half of the party that had gone to Athkatla, vigorously shaking off the dirt that had clung to her lupine paws. She greets Khail with a smirked “Welcome back, you big lug.” Steve trots up to the paladin, nuzzling his majestic head against his face until Khail strokes it.</p><p></p><p>Khail apologizes for his failure against the priest, but Trella shakes him off. “Nothing to be sorry for, big guy.”</p><p></p><p>Kyree, ever focused on his goals, inquires, “Did you get our stuff?”</p><p></p><p>Kai rolls her eyes—a gesture not devoid of affection—and helps to pass out hard earned magic. Trella dons her new belt and promptly challenges everyone to arm wrestle. Though she still loses to Khail, she feels the match was closer. She even manages to convince Kyree to give it a try. Upon beating the elf, she leaps to her feet, raises her arms, and begins saying, “I am the greatest!” over and over again. Kyree resolves never to wrestle her again.</p><p> </p><p>Trella has other plans, voiced as soon as she tires of her victory strut. "We'll be here alone for a few days. You know you like it."</p><p></p><p>Kyree grumbles, "No I don't. Wrestle Rhien."</p><p></p><p>"He'll be watching the crypt. And it's no fun to beat him anyway. He just says 'good job' or something like that."</p><p></p><p>Kai laughs. "You guys have fun. I'm going to an opera." Indeed she does, and has a marvelous time watching a passel of rotund people sing loudly in a language she doesn’t know. Khail, from his position three rows back, dourly secures her safety while fending off female admirers with a decided lack of experience. Quid checks up on her investments, and Calla tries not to imagine skewering drow for a few hours at a time. She almost succeeds. Many miles away, something crawls to the surface of a dark Scottish lake. Also, Trella explores the limits of her ability to wildshape, Kyree takes extended target practice, and Rhien mostly sits still, though he enjoys that in his own way.</p><p></p><p>The eight reunite the evening of the fourth day in front of the crypt. After tales are exchanged, sleep comes upon all as the fire fades low.</p><p></p><p>A great roar from above shocks them to wakefulness shortly after dawn. Looking up, they spy a large winged creature, revealed to have a lion’s head and a giant eagle’s wings as it comes closer. Kyree cries, “A griffon!” but Trella shakes her head negatively. “No, not just,” she answers. “The wings are too sleek, and the feathers too small. Plus it has a bronze sheen to it. See?” Not waiting for a response, she says in awe, “It’s a half-dragon. Bronze, I think.”</p><p></p><p>So lost is the party in examining the majestic creature that all nearly miss the presence of its rider. Clad in full plate of dwarven make that is covered in a dark purple lacquer, with a design of a fearsome dragon of the same color whose jaws rest over the faceplate, he presents quite a picture himself. As he directs his mount to land nearby the group—which has since drawn weapons and taken ready positions—the symbol of Helm can be seen on the gauntleted fist that rests lightly on the pommel of a curved, sheathed blade.</p><p></p><p>Quid whispers suspiciously, “A purple dragon knight. What interest does Cormyr have here?”</p><p></p><p>As soon as the dust settles from the landing, the rider slides neatly off the half-griffon’s back and onto his feet. A short black plume at the top of his helmet bobs as he approaches the party, stopping five feet away to incline his head slightly. After passing his eyes over the group, he removes his helm, apparently not fearing a conflict. His hard, grey eyes betray no hint of emotion as they look out from between a mane of dark brown hair and a thick red beard.</p><p></p><p>When he speaks, his voice is deep and commanding. “I presume you are the adventurers I was told about. I am Erdrick of Cormyr, leader of the blackbrushes. My men will be along shortly. What have you discovered about the drow threat in this area?”</p><p></p><p>Quidlyn stares thoughtfully at the newcomer from the cowl of her new cloak of elvenkind, wondering if he too sees her look as environmentally conscious, yet classy and elegant. "He better," she thinks, "I spent enough time working for it. But why is he here?"</p><p></p><p>Her whispered words mirror her internal confusion. "Damn drag'n knights. Boring lugs. Never care about money. Always some nonsense about honor and the like. Though they sure do cut a fine figure... I always liked a man in uniform…."</p><p></p><p>Finally Quid breaks from her lengthy, partially vocalized internal monologue. "Well met Sir Knight. We were accompanied of late by your colleague, Sir Dobius of Elderberry of Her Regency's foreign service (poor Dobster). Is your presence here related?"</p><p></p><p>Erdrick replies sadly, “It troubles me to hear of the death of one so loyal. However, my current task does not involve him.”</p><p></p><p>Trella approaches the knight and shakes his hand, taking some hidden pleasure out of her recently enhanced grip as she introduces herself as “Trella.” The 5'10" tall half-elf is clad in rhino skin armor and wields a deceptively simple wooden staff. Her exposed skin is tanned and scarred, and she appears to be one who has not walked away from a fight in her short life. Though her movements are sprightly, there is a weight to her gaze not normally seen in someone not yet out of her teen years. She visibly leaves the story telling and formal introductions to Kai, waiting to interrupt when appropriate.</p><p></p><p>Kai steps forward slightly and provides a counterpoint to Quid's hail with a cool inclination of her head. "Well met. Indeed, before we reveal what we have learned, we would know from whom you learned of us. Introductions perhaps are unnecessary." Erdrick barely hears her, as his mind seems to freeze for a moment in contemplation of her beauty and natural grace. Shoulder length dark brown hair appears as if spun from silk and possessed of a life of its own, deep green eyes sparkle in perfect symmetry, hinting at a substantial intellect behind them, and the merest hint of flawless alabaster skin in the gaps between her plain garments sets the soldier’s blood boiling. She is a noblewoman strengthened with steel and made all the more appealing for it, and Erdrick shudders briefly as he returns to his senses, not desiring to pit his will against her own.</p><p></p><p>As Erdrick backs away, collecting his thoughts, Kyree takes the opportunity to smile and gesture towards Erdrick's bow. "Hello, Erdrick," he says. "Nice bow. Use it often?"</p><p></p><p>Grateful for the respite, he responds, "I have not used the bow much of late, as I have been in transit from the Far East."</p><p></p><p>Kyree looks a bit disappointed, but recovers quickly and smiles. "We'll work on it," he offers.</p><p></p><p>Erdrick nods and addresses the group. “I am here for the same purpose as you. Daggerdale’s rightful lord has requested help in combating the drow raids and I have been sent to investigate on behalf of Her Regency. Sir Dobius would have been able to provide an introduction, but I can only give you my word as a Purple Dragon Knight. So, what can you tell me of the drow threat?”</p><p></p><p>"I can tell you that there's a heckuva lot of fewer of them to threaten this or any Dale," Trella snorts.</p><p></p><p>"Incredible. Government bureaucracy that managed to do something right for a change," mutters Quid as she quietly calls upon Waukeen to grant her detection of the newcomer's thoughts. The priestess finds them a bit jumbled as Erdrick's conscious mind struggles to assimilate new impressions and information, while maintaining a strict dominance over an id that keeps trying to picture various party members naked, herself included. Fighting off that image, she is at least reasonably pleased to note that his intentions match his speech, though she is somewhat discomfited by his utter devotion to the crown. Khail, making a simultaneous check for evil, detects none on him.</p><p></p><p>Satisfied, she says to Erdrick, "The situation here is more dire than we feared. The drow infestation of this area has largely been pacified, as our surly friend implied, but it appears to be only part of a greater drow movement that could have realm wide consequences. Additional forces would be well appreciated."</p><p></p><p>Pointing to Erdrick's mount, she asks, “Who's your friend there?</p><p></p><p>Trella adds, "I think we should level with you that we lost several experienced, and brave, companions down there. This place is not kind to the inexperienced or those without significant weaponry and armor. A staff of life or two might be handy as well."</p><p></p><p>Nodding towards his mount, he answers first, "This is Chagripor, a half bronze dragon / half griffon found during my recent travels to the east." Chagripor inclines his head slightly, indicating his intelligence and fine breeding. Steve whinnies; Khail pats his head.</p><p></p><p>Erdrick continues, "Regarding the drow threat, perhaps we should join forces. That Dobius would adventure with you is all the proof I need of your intentions. I will heed your advice regarding my men, who have had little experience with war." As they have not yet arrived, Erdrick sets up a marker for them, leaving a message to wait by the crypt’s entrance and guard it against intrusions from below.</p><p></p><p>Rhien interjects, “Perhaps we should continue this conversation as we descend. Quid does not have an appreciable amount of time left before the geas takes effect.”</p><p></p><p>All are in agreement, and, after Erdrick convinces the reticent Chagripor that the depths will not be so bad, they reenter the crypt. As they travel cautiously through it, Khail keeps up a terse description as to what the party has encountered so far.</p><p></p><p>“Most of these early crypts were filled with foul undead and other things better left undisturbed. We vanquished all we saw, though a vampire sorcerer gave us some trouble, turning Trella’s companion Earl the unicorn to stone. He still waits for a cure outside.</p><p></p><p>“To the right here is an invisible wall, beyond which was hiding the last remnants of the drow House Morcane, former rulers of Szith Morcane, the outpost below. We slew many of them in a mighty battle, though we lost one of our own there. The survivors struck a deal with us, and accompanied us some distance underground, until finally dying themselves at the hands of their contemptible peers. Foul race, the drow.</p><p></p><p>“This hole leads to the entry post of Szith Morcane, and here we encountered the first resistance from the outpost. Several battles took place here, and two more of our former comrades felt the cold touch of death. We won the hard fought battle, however, securing the post and eliminating resistance from the chasm before us. This web, now frayed into almost uselessness, connects the various layers of the city. We will traverse it with a rope of climbing.”</p><p></p><p>Trella, trying very hard not to laugh at the paladin tour guide’s choice of language, extracts the rope from her pack and sends it in the direction of the House Morcane layer. As the party slowly climbs, Khail continues.</p><p></p><p>“We fought through hordes of drow, clearing out the barracks, a bazaar—”</p><p></p><p>Trella interjects here, “WE didn’t do anything to the bazaar—it was my posse of earth elementals. They ripped through the level, smashing everything they saw, and made it halfway through the commoner level before some stone giant slaves got the last of them. You should have seen the trail of drow destruction. It was awesome!”</p><p></p><p>Erdrick is a little taken aback at first by her enthusiasm, but the career soldier recognizes pride in one’s men when he sees it. When she finishes talking, he claps her on the back and says, “Good show!”</p><p></p><p>Trella beams. “Hey, I like the new guy.”</p><p></p><p>As Khail helps the group into the desired level, he recounts, “After we did what we could among the weaker drow, finding an entrance to the Underdark there, we visited an inverted tower on another level. There we met the archmage Solom Ned’razak. His appearance gave us pause, and we came to a deal with him, accepting his help in exchange for payment for the slaves we had freed above and a promise to eliminate all ruling priests in the outpost.</p><p></p><p>“We accomplished the lion’s share of this task here, in this layer of the city, though it was not without great personal cost. I lost my life to Dorina T’sarran, Kyree lost his to her vampiric noble guards, and we appear to have permanently lost the entire strange but noble band that freed us from our earlier imprisonment a scant tenday ago.</p><p></p><p>“The sole surviving priest—though that word is not properly used here—is a ghostly thrall of Lolth residing up the ladder in front of us. Solom was insistent that we destroy her, going so far as to place a geas on Quid to ensure our actions. Thus, we seek now to send her into death for good. We will be aided in this in that Lolth appears no longer to be granting spells to her followers, which should weaken the ghost substantially. We will ascend now.”</p><p></p><p>Khail falls silent, done with his tale. Calla, bored to tears by the telling of it, looks up from her examination of one of the ladders. “Not so fast Chatty Cathy. The ladder is trapped with some sort of webbing. Hmm…let me see…aha! Got it. Now you can pass.”</p><p></p><p>Khail, immune to ribbing, merely says, “Thank you. Shall we ascend?”</p><p></p><p>Erdrick nods, eager to test his mettle with the party. Both his and Khail’s steeds are forced to remain below, due to their large size. As it is, all save Calla must crawl up the narrow passage to the Fane of Lolth.</p><p></p><p>They finally emerge from the uncomfortable trek into the pungent smell of decaying flesh that fills the stale air in the fane. The rank odor gives the great hall the aura of a battlefield, though absent the croaking of ravens. Indeed, most of the corpses strewn around the room and slumped against the twin rows of columns look as though they fell in battle, their weapons close at hand. The flesh of the corpses has begun melting to slime, allowing the bones to show through and eliciting an "Oh yuck!" from a suddenly squeamish Kyree. The elf's problem is more than psychological; Kyree's knees buckle at the stench and he finds himself quite unable to move on.</p><p></p><p>Khail scans the room, not needing his paladin sight to detect evil in this wretched place. His gaze falls upon a sacrificial altar, atop which lies a female drow corpse, her neck pierced by a hand crossbow bolt. The paladin moves to remove it, but is stopped by Calla hand on his hip. “That thing is trapped, or my name isn’t Calla Crabtree. Let’s leave it alone, okay big guy?”</p><p></p><p>Khail nods, but decides to wait after Kyree's not so subtle cough from the rear reminds the rest of the group of his state. Seven minutes later the elf wipes flecks of vomit from his lips and stands, ready to continue. Trella chuckles at him. Kyree glares.</p><p></p><p>Khail leads the group onward, through a broken gate and into the formerly plush area that, judging by the ecclesiastical motif on the cushions and delicately embroidered pillows strewn haphazardly around the area, could only be the inner fane.</p><p></p><p>Though bloodstains line the walls and carpet here as well, no bodies are present. The air feels thick and unusually cold, and the sound of metal grating on stone as Kai brushes the broken gate is especially shrill shattering the eerie the silence. Quid, expecting the ghost ahead, begins preparations, sending the more martial-minded members of the group into the ethereal plane.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately the physical world drops away, becoming misty and insubstantial. A curved wall that separated physical regions in the material world is now only a hazy curtain that offers no shielding from the stern drow woman on the other side. Her slight proportions clothed in a black robe trimmed with purple and burgundy, she is unsurprised by the group’s sudden appearance, as they are of hers. Without moving otherwise, she begins to draw in breath.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, back in the Material plane, Calla, Kai, and Rhien see none of this. What they do see, however, is the sudden appearance of a hideous spider-like bebilith, apparently summoned by a triggered trap. It spies the small group of three and fires off a web before they even know it’s there. Calla reacts with preternatural speed, diving out of the way, but Rhien and Kai are trapped in the tough webbing for the time being.</p><p></p><p>This has little effect on the sorceress, however, as she promptly vaporizes the bebilith with a ray of greenish light before it can act again. After having seen her earlier adventuring group torn apart by these creatures, the halfling acknowledges the deed with a look that borders on awe.</p><p></p><p>On the ethereal plane, the rest of the group reacts with similar efficiency. In seconds, Kyree, Trella, and Khail have dealt stinging blows to the keening spirit, leaving her on the edge of oblivion.</p><p></p><p>Erdrick knows only that a foe remains to be fought, and acts accordingly. The purple dragon knight discreetly puts some spittle on his left earlobe, exhales deeply through his nose as he quickly draws his katana, and shouts an oath of wrath to defeat the drow ghost. The oath is satisfied quickly, as his first thrust skewers the former drow on the end of Erdrick's axiomatic katana. The noble samurai twists the blade in place before slowly drawing it back, and then watches as the spirit fades into nothingness. “That was not a challenge,” he states flatly.</p><p></p><p>Quid rolls her eyes. “Well at least it took care of my geas—wait! Cr*p! It’s still there!”</p><p></p><p>Khail responds, “Perhaps the ghost might rejuvenate, and thus is not truly dead.”</p><p></p><p>Quid slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Damn it! F***ing stupid pretty boy bastard!”</p><p></p><p>Recovering somewhat, she says, “Fine. All we have to do is figure out how to kill it for good. Let’s go back.”</p><p></p><p>The five ethereal companions move away from the webbing and return to the Material plane in time to watch Rhien and Kai escape from their entanglement, the latter with Calla's disquietingly reverent aid. Quid's glare cuts off Kai's greeting, and the priest proceeds to stomp around the inner fane, throwing bloody pillows around with abandon. When all she finds is a scattering of ash that she guess is the remains of Szith Morcane’s high priestess, she curses and moves behind the back wall of the inner temple. There she finds a large alcove holding clerical vestments and temple fixtures, all of which bear the spider symbol of Lolth. A pile of cinders and ashes on the floor seems to indicate that any other items stored here have been burned.</p><p></p><p>The cleric rampages through the vestry, tossing aside implements of Lolth-worship as she searches for anything that could be a clue to permanently eliminating the ghost. All she finds are assorted heavy religious objects and some similarly devoted texts and vestments, and the priest’s training is sufficient to deduce that nothing here will be of aid.</p><p></p><p>Storming back to the inner fane, her gaze finally comes to rest on the altar. “What if you desecrated it?” Kai ventures.</p><p></p><p>Quid slaps her forehead for the second time in the last couple of minutes. “Of course, that should work. We’ve already killed the b*tch that supplanted her here, so that can’t be it, and the whole area outside of here is fouled with Kiaransaleen devotion, so the ‘holiness’ of the altar must be keeping her around. Unfortunately, I didn’t pray for that last night.”</p><p></p><p>Kai shrugs. “Well, as long as you plan on doing so tomorrow, the geas won’t take effect.”</p><p></p><p>Quid smiles. “Excellent. Now, what say we—”</p><p></p><p>Before she can finish, the group hears a mighty roar from below. Erdrick shouts, “Chag!” and immediately begins sprinting to the fane's entry passage. The purple dragon knight is followed closely by the rest of the group, who catch up as he fearlessly dives into the passage. Again following his lead, all soon find themselves back in the former abode of House Morcane.</p><p></p><p>Steve and Chagripor are still there, but now they have company. A huge troll stands only feet from them, blocking the exit from the level. He is clad in half-plate, and an odd intelligence can be seen in his eyes. Smiling toothily, he says in perfect common, “Solom has decided to terminate this partnership. He hopes there are no hard feelings.”</p><p></p><p>Erdrick steps forward to protect his steed, but is stopped by Chag’s reaction. Khail relays Steve’s analysis, which is the same as the half-griffon’s: “There are more out there besides the troll.”</p><p></p><p>Snicker pokes his head out for a second, then just as quickly resumes hiding in Kai’s cloak. The arcanist says hurriedly, “Four arcane guards with spiked chains, one gaunt black-clad drow, one ordinary drow in a green shirt, and that plump drow who ran away earlier from the hunter-killer team.”</p><p></p><p>At this the troll snarls, “This will not save you,” and the battle is joined.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="htetickrt, post: 1927157, member: 16534"] [I]So, it's been just short of three months since my last update. My apologies to my readers, assuming I still have any. :heh: The lull corresponded with a lull in the campaign from which the story arises. We took a break right before the fourth part, and are still breaking, as of this writing. Hopefully, this will spur us to start again. I do plan on continuing to write more often, for what it's worth. This particular installment covers the introduction of a new character/player, so if you've quite reasonably forgotten all that has gone before, there's a brief summary a little more than halfway through. As an additional incentive to pick this up again, I've already written the next installment, and after I get done a few more, my notes become much more easily translatable to story hour form, for faster posting.[/I] [CENTER]Erdrick of Cormyr and Alisannara Morcane[/CENTER] Kyree mulls over purchases in his head for a time before interrupting the party's thoughtful silence. "I have devised several alternatives for use of our gold and for raising Khail that we could discuss." Trella's eyebrow rises reflexively. "Oh, have you now?" Kyree, as usual, misses the tone. "Yes. Would you like to hear them?" "Don't take this the wrong way, but why is it you always have alternatives when gold is involved?" Kyree shrugs. "It's easier. When there are enemies, my mind goes blank and I just want to shoot them. Spending gold has more options associated with it." Trella looks surprised. "I wasn't aware you had thought about this." "I am more than meets the eye." "Like a transformer?" "A what?" "You know, those elven toys that change form. Seriously, the phrase is trademarked. You could get into trouble." Kyree whines, "Can I just give my alternatives?" Trella mock bows. "By all means, guv'nor." The elf begins, but Quid cuts him off. "Before you get going, maybe we should discuss the ridiculousness of a tri-metallic standard." Kyree pouts. "Now you're making fun of me." "Would I do that?" Quid is all innocence. "How should I know? I just met you a few days ago." "Good point. Anyway, I'll begin with the relative frequency of copper." Kyree talks over her, spelling out the options, as he sees them. Kai lets out a deep breath as he finishes. "I guess there isn't a reason to come back and fight the archmage immediately. I'll have to think about this more." Kyree puffs out his chest. "Hey, what about Dobi?" Trella asks suddenly, causing Quid to check her bag of holding. Upon discovering his body is no longer there, she snaps it shut and cries, "Oh, Dobster!" breaking down momentarily. Trella pats her shoulder awkwardly for the minute it takes her to collect herself. Then Kai suggests, "Perhaps information on Solom's supporters would be helpful. Powerful as he is, we could take him as a group if he were alone. In any case, as long as our mission is changing from stopping raids to saving the world, it's true that the world would be better off without him." The sorceress grins crookedly. "You know, this is the point that Khail would nod and say something ridiculously naïve like 'Freedom's on the march.'" She scrunches up her face. "Are we sure we want him back?" She's mostly kidding. Steve whinnies angrily. "Sorry guys," she adds, "it's just that I could do with a few days of R&R and shopping. And maybe taking in a play or a show. It's been a long time." Trella shrugs. "I wouldn't mind getting some natural light. Another day underground and I'd become pale and even more surly than usual. My concerns are like I said before, and the closer we get to the fifth day, the worse it will be for Quid, and we don't want to see Quid go insane and something equally awful." She smiles awkwardly at her fellow priestess. Kyree nods. “Okay, so we'll wait five days for Rhien's boots to fully recharge, and we'll pay for Khail's resurrection. Right?” Quid agrees. "But no more; there is that whole Revenance thing to worry about." Kyree replies, "Huh?" The rest of the trip passes in silence. ******************************************** Trella resumes her own shape to greet the half of the party that had gone to Athkatla, vigorously shaking off the dirt that had clung to her lupine paws. She greets Khail with a smirked “Welcome back, you big lug.” Steve trots up to the paladin, nuzzling his majestic head against his face until Khail strokes it. Khail apologizes for his failure against the priest, but Trella shakes him off. “Nothing to be sorry for, big guy.” Kyree, ever focused on his goals, inquires, “Did you get our stuff?” Kai rolls her eyes—a gesture not devoid of affection—and helps to pass out hard earned magic. Trella dons her new belt and promptly challenges everyone to arm wrestle. Though she still loses to Khail, she feels the match was closer. She even manages to convince Kyree to give it a try. Upon beating the elf, she leaps to her feet, raises her arms, and begins saying, “I am the greatest!” over and over again. Kyree resolves never to wrestle her again. Trella has other plans, voiced as soon as she tires of her victory strut. "We'll be here alone for a few days. You know you like it." Kyree grumbles, "No I don't. Wrestle Rhien." "He'll be watching the crypt. And it's no fun to beat him anyway. He just says 'good job' or something like that." Kai laughs. "You guys have fun. I'm going to an opera." Indeed she does, and has a marvelous time watching a passel of rotund people sing loudly in a language she doesn’t know. Khail, from his position three rows back, dourly secures her safety while fending off female admirers with a decided lack of experience. Quid checks up on her investments, and Calla tries not to imagine skewering drow for a few hours at a time. She almost succeeds. Many miles away, something crawls to the surface of a dark Scottish lake. Also, Trella explores the limits of her ability to wildshape, Kyree takes extended target practice, and Rhien mostly sits still, though he enjoys that in his own way. The eight reunite the evening of the fourth day in front of the crypt. After tales are exchanged, sleep comes upon all as the fire fades low. A great roar from above shocks them to wakefulness shortly after dawn. Looking up, they spy a large winged creature, revealed to have a lion’s head and a giant eagle’s wings as it comes closer. Kyree cries, “A griffon!” but Trella shakes her head negatively. “No, not just,” she answers. “The wings are too sleek, and the feathers too small. Plus it has a bronze sheen to it. See?” Not waiting for a response, she says in awe, “It’s a half-dragon. Bronze, I think.” So lost is the party in examining the majestic creature that all nearly miss the presence of its rider. Clad in full plate of dwarven make that is covered in a dark purple lacquer, with a design of a fearsome dragon of the same color whose jaws rest over the faceplate, he presents quite a picture himself. As he directs his mount to land nearby the group—which has since drawn weapons and taken ready positions—the symbol of Helm can be seen on the gauntleted fist that rests lightly on the pommel of a curved, sheathed blade. Quid whispers suspiciously, “A purple dragon knight. What interest does Cormyr have here?” As soon as the dust settles from the landing, the rider slides neatly off the half-griffon’s back and onto his feet. A short black plume at the top of his helmet bobs as he approaches the party, stopping five feet away to incline his head slightly. After passing his eyes over the group, he removes his helm, apparently not fearing a conflict. His hard, grey eyes betray no hint of emotion as they look out from between a mane of dark brown hair and a thick red beard. When he speaks, his voice is deep and commanding. “I presume you are the adventurers I was told about. I am Erdrick of Cormyr, leader of the blackbrushes. My men will be along shortly. What have you discovered about the drow threat in this area?” Quidlyn stares thoughtfully at the newcomer from the cowl of her new cloak of elvenkind, wondering if he too sees her look as environmentally conscious, yet classy and elegant. "He better," she thinks, "I spent enough time working for it. But why is he here?" Her whispered words mirror her internal confusion. "Damn drag'n knights. Boring lugs. Never care about money. Always some nonsense about honor and the like. Though they sure do cut a fine figure... I always liked a man in uniform…." Finally Quid breaks from her lengthy, partially vocalized internal monologue. "Well met Sir Knight. We were accompanied of late by your colleague, Sir Dobius of Elderberry of Her Regency's foreign service (poor Dobster). Is your presence here related?" Erdrick replies sadly, “It troubles me to hear of the death of one so loyal. However, my current task does not involve him.” Trella approaches the knight and shakes his hand, taking some hidden pleasure out of her recently enhanced grip as she introduces herself as “Trella.” The 5'10" tall half-elf is clad in rhino skin armor and wields a deceptively simple wooden staff. Her exposed skin is tanned and scarred, and she appears to be one who has not walked away from a fight in her short life. Though her movements are sprightly, there is a weight to her gaze not normally seen in someone not yet out of her teen years. She visibly leaves the story telling and formal introductions to Kai, waiting to interrupt when appropriate. Kai steps forward slightly and provides a counterpoint to Quid's hail with a cool inclination of her head. "Well met. Indeed, before we reveal what we have learned, we would know from whom you learned of us. Introductions perhaps are unnecessary." Erdrick barely hears her, as his mind seems to freeze for a moment in contemplation of her beauty and natural grace. Shoulder length dark brown hair appears as if spun from silk and possessed of a life of its own, deep green eyes sparkle in perfect symmetry, hinting at a substantial intellect behind them, and the merest hint of flawless alabaster skin in the gaps between her plain garments sets the soldier’s blood boiling. She is a noblewoman strengthened with steel and made all the more appealing for it, and Erdrick shudders briefly as he returns to his senses, not desiring to pit his will against her own. As Erdrick backs away, collecting his thoughts, Kyree takes the opportunity to smile and gesture towards Erdrick's bow. "Hello, Erdrick," he says. "Nice bow. Use it often?" Grateful for the respite, he responds, "I have not used the bow much of late, as I have been in transit from the Far East." Kyree looks a bit disappointed, but recovers quickly and smiles. "We'll work on it," he offers. Erdrick nods and addresses the group. “I am here for the same purpose as you. Daggerdale’s rightful lord has requested help in combating the drow raids and I have been sent to investigate on behalf of Her Regency. Sir Dobius would have been able to provide an introduction, but I can only give you my word as a Purple Dragon Knight. So, what can you tell me of the drow threat?” "I can tell you that there's a heckuva lot of fewer of them to threaten this or any Dale," Trella snorts. "Incredible. Government bureaucracy that managed to do something right for a change," mutters Quid as she quietly calls upon Waukeen to grant her detection of the newcomer's thoughts. The priestess finds them a bit jumbled as Erdrick's conscious mind struggles to assimilate new impressions and information, while maintaining a strict dominance over an id that keeps trying to picture various party members naked, herself included. Fighting off that image, she is at least reasonably pleased to note that his intentions match his speech, though she is somewhat discomfited by his utter devotion to the crown. Khail, making a simultaneous check for evil, detects none on him. Satisfied, she says to Erdrick, "The situation here is more dire than we feared. The drow infestation of this area has largely been pacified, as our surly friend implied, but it appears to be only part of a greater drow movement that could have realm wide consequences. Additional forces would be well appreciated." Pointing to Erdrick's mount, she asks, “Who's your friend there? Trella adds, "I think we should level with you that we lost several experienced, and brave, companions down there. This place is not kind to the inexperienced or those without significant weaponry and armor. A staff of life or two might be handy as well." Nodding towards his mount, he answers first, "This is Chagripor, a half bronze dragon / half griffon found during my recent travels to the east." Chagripor inclines his head slightly, indicating his intelligence and fine breeding. Steve whinnies; Khail pats his head. Erdrick continues, "Regarding the drow threat, perhaps we should join forces. That Dobius would adventure with you is all the proof I need of your intentions. I will heed your advice regarding my men, who have had little experience with war." As they have not yet arrived, Erdrick sets up a marker for them, leaving a message to wait by the crypt’s entrance and guard it against intrusions from below. Rhien interjects, “Perhaps we should continue this conversation as we descend. Quid does not have an appreciable amount of time left before the geas takes effect.” All are in agreement, and, after Erdrick convinces the reticent Chagripor that the depths will not be so bad, they reenter the crypt. As they travel cautiously through it, Khail keeps up a terse description as to what the party has encountered so far. “Most of these early crypts were filled with foul undead and other things better left undisturbed. We vanquished all we saw, though a vampire sorcerer gave us some trouble, turning Trella’s companion Earl the unicorn to stone. He still waits for a cure outside. “To the right here is an invisible wall, beyond which was hiding the last remnants of the drow House Morcane, former rulers of Szith Morcane, the outpost below. We slew many of them in a mighty battle, though we lost one of our own there. The survivors struck a deal with us, and accompanied us some distance underground, until finally dying themselves at the hands of their contemptible peers. Foul race, the drow. “This hole leads to the entry post of Szith Morcane, and here we encountered the first resistance from the outpost. Several battles took place here, and two more of our former comrades felt the cold touch of death. We won the hard fought battle, however, securing the post and eliminating resistance from the chasm before us. This web, now frayed into almost uselessness, connects the various layers of the city. We will traverse it with a rope of climbing.” Trella, trying very hard not to laugh at the paladin tour guide’s choice of language, extracts the rope from her pack and sends it in the direction of the House Morcane layer. As the party slowly climbs, Khail continues. “We fought through hordes of drow, clearing out the barracks, a bazaar—” Trella interjects here, “WE didn’t do anything to the bazaar—it was my posse of earth elementals. They ripped through the level, smashing everything they saw, and made it halfway through the commoner level before some stone giant slaves got the last of them. You should have seen the trail of drow destruction. It was awesome!” Erdrick is a little taken aback at first by her enthusiasm, but the career soldier recognizes pride in one’s men when he sees it. When she finishes talking, he claps her on the back and says, “Good show!” Trella beams. “Hey, I like the new guy.” As Khail helps the group into the desired level, he recounts, “After we did what we could among the weaker drow, finding an entrance to the Underdark there, we visited an inverted tower on another level. There we met the archmage Solom Ned’razak. His appearance gave us pause, and we came to a deal with him, accepting his help in exchange for payment for the slaves we had freed above and a promise to eliminate all ruling priests in the outpost. “We accomplished the lion’s share of this task here, in this layer of the city, though it was not without great personal cost. I lost my life to Dorina T’sarran, Kyree lost his to her vampiric noble guards, and we appear to have permanently lost the entire strange but noble band that freed us from our earlier imprisonment a scant tenday ago. “The sole surviving priest—though that word is not properly used here—is a ghostly thrall of Lolth residing up the ladder in front of us. Solom was insistent that we destroy her, going so far as to place a geas on Quid to ensure our actions. Thus, we seek now to send her into death for good. We will be aided in this in that Lolth appears no longer to be granting spells to her followers, which should weaken the ghost substantially. We will ascend now.” Khail falls silent, done with his tale. Calla, bored to tears by the telling of it, looks up from her examination of one of the ladders. “Not so fast Chatty Cathy. The ladder is trapped with some sort of webbing. Hmm…let me see…aha! Got it. Now you can pass.” Khail, immune to ribbing, merely says, “Thank you. Shall we ascend?” Erdrick nods, eager to test his mettle with the party. Both his and Khail’s steeds are forced to remain below, due to their large size. As it is, all save Calla must crawl up the narrow passage to the Fane of Lolth. They finally emerge from the uncomfortable trek into the pungent smell of decaying flesh that fills the stale air in the fane. The rank odor gives the great hall the aura of a battlefield, though absent the croaking of ravens. Indeed, most of the corpses strewn around the room and slumped against the twin rows of columns look as though they fell in battle, their weapons close at hand. The flesh of the corpses has begun melting to slime, allowing the bones to show through and eliciting an "Oh yuck!" from a suddenly squeamish Kyree. The elf's problem is more than psychological; Kyree's knees buckle at the stench and he finds himself quite unable to move on. Khail scans the room, not needing his paladin sight to detect evil in this wretched place. His gaze falls upon a sacrificial altar, atop which lies a female drow corpse, her neck pierced by a hand crossbow bolt. The paladin moves to remove it, but is stopped by Calla hand on his hip. “That thing is trapped, or my name isn’t Calla Crabtree. Let’s leave it alone, okay big guy?” Khail nods, but decides to wait after Kyree's not so subtle cough from the rear reminds the rest of the group of his state. Seven minutes later the elf wipes flecks of vomit from his lips and stands, ready to continue. Trella chuckles at him. Kyree glares. Khail leads the group onward, through a broken gate and into the formerly plush area that, judging by the ecclesiastical motif on the cushions and delicately embroidered pillows strewn haphazardly around the area, could only be the inner fane. Though bloodstains line the walls and carpet here as well, no bodies are present. The air feels thick and unusually cold, and the sound of metal grating on stone as Kai brushes the broken gate is especially shrill shattering the eerie the silence. Quid, expecting the ghost ahead, begins preparations, sending the more martial-minded members of the group into the ethereal plane. Immediately the physical world drops away, becoming misty and insubstantial. A curved wall that separated physical regions in the material world is now only a hazy curtain that offers no shielding from the stern drow woman on the other side. Her slight proportions clothed in a black robe trimmed with purple and burgundy, she is unsurprised by the group’s sudden appearance, as they are of hers. Without moving otherwise, she begins to draw in breath. Meanwhile, back in the Material plane, Calla, Kai, and Rhien see none of this. What they do see, however, is the sudden appearance of a hideous spider-like bebilith, apparently summoned by a triggered trap. It spies the small group of three and fires off a web before they even know it’s there. Calla reacts with preternatural speed, diving out of the way, but Rhien and Kai are trapped in the tough webbing for the time being. This has little effect on the sorceress, however, as she promptly vaporizes the bebilith with a ray of greenish light before it can act again. After having seen her earlier adventuring group torn apart by these creatures, the halfling acknowledges the deed with a look that borders on awe. On the ethereal plane, the rest of the group reacts with similar efficiency. In seconds, Kyree, Trella, and Khail have dealt stinging blows to the keening spirit, leaving her on the edge of oblivion. Erdrick knows only that a foe remains to be fought, and acts accordingly. The purple dragon knight discreetly puts some spittle on his left earlobe, exhales deeply through his nose as he quickly draws his katana, and shouts an oath of wrath to defeat the drow ghost. The oath is satisfied quickly, as his first thrust skewers the former drow on the end of Erdrick's axiomatic katana. The noble samurai twists the blade in place before slowly drawing it back, and then watches as the spirit fades into nothingness. “That was not a challenge,” he states flatly. Quid rolls her eyes. “Well at least it took care of my geas—wait! Cr*p! It’s still there!” Khail responds, “Perhaps the ghost might rejuvenate, and thus is not truly dead.” Quid slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Damn it! F***ing stupid pretty boy bastard!” Recovering somewhat, she says, “Fine. All we have to do is figure out how to kill it for good. Let’s go back.” The five ethereal companions move away from the webbing and return to the Material plane in time to watch Rhien and Kai escape from their entanglement, the latter with Calla's disquietingly reverent aid. Quid's glare cuts off Kai's greeting, and the priest proceeds to stomp around the inner fane, throwing bloody pillows around with abandon. When all she finds is a scattering of ash that she guess is the remains of Szith Morcane’s high priestess, she curses and moves behind the back wall of the inner temple. There she finds a large alcove holding clerical vestments and temple fixtures, all of which bear the spider symbol of Lolth. A pile of cinders and ashes on the floor seems to indicate that any other items stored here have been burned. The cleric rampages through the vestry, tossing aside implements of Lolth-worship as she searches for anything that could be a clue to permanently eliminating the ghost. All she finds are assorted heavy religious objects and some similarly devoted texts and vestments, and the priest’s training is sufficient to deduce that nothing here will be of aid. Storming back to the inner fane, her gaze finally comes to rest on the altar. “What if you desecrated it?” Kai ventures. Quid slaps her forehead for the second time in the last couple of minutes. “Of course, that should work. We’ve already killed the b*tch that supplanted her here, so that can’t be it, and the whole area outside of here is fouled with Kiaransaleen devotion, so the ‘holiness’ of the altar must be keeping her around. Unfortunately, I didn’t pray for that last night.” Kai shrugs. “Well, as long as you plan on doing so tomorrow, the geas won’t take effect.” Quid smiles. “Excellent. Now, what say we—” Before she can finish, the group hears a mighty roar from below. Erdrick shouts, “Chag!” and immediately begins sprinting to the fane's entry passage. The purple dragon knight is followed closely by the rest of the group, who catch up as he fearlessly dives into the passage. Again following his lead, all soon find themselves back in the former abode of House Morcane. Steve and Chagripor are still there, but now they have company. A huge troll stands only feet from them, blocking the exit from the level. He is clad in half-plate, and an odd intelligence can be seen in his eyes. Smiling toothily, he says in perfect common, “Solom has decided to terminate this partnership. He hopes there are no hard feelings.” Erdrick steps forward to protect his steed, but is stopped by Chag’s reaction. Khail relays Steve’s analysis, which is the same as the half-griffon’s: “There are more out there besides the troll.” Snicker pokes his head out for a second, then just as quickly resumes hiding in Kai’s cloak. The arcanist says hurriedly, “Four arcane guards with spiked chains, one gaunt black-clad drow, one ordinary drow in a green shirt, and that plump drow who ran away earlier from the hunter-killer team.” At this the troll snarls, “This will not save you,” and the battle is joined. [/QUOTE]
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