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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mahiro Satsu" data-source="post: 304798" data-attributes="member: 4970">Episode X Ooltugula’s Portal part 3from the journal of Velm TrueforgerNot far to go now. Thunderstone is but a few days beyond the next ridge, and the shadowed and mysterious Hullack Forest lies to the north, where stormclouds line up across the horizon like ranked wispy soldiers. I smell the fresh tang of rain on the growing breeze.I am being watched, that much is certain. But by whom? They say that wild elves have been attacking travelers, which would explain why I have yet to see another living soul along this rutted track. That night I awaken to the furtive noise of my wagon being searched. I sit up blinking, and in the starlight I see them: six silhouettes crouched and ready, one of them perched upon the wagon, looking steadily at what lies beneath the tarp. I do not know if they see me. They look upon my cargo for a long while, while a chill breeze slides along the grassy meadow. My fingers inch toward samryn, the waraxe beside me. But abruptly they depart in silence, leaving the oilcloth tarp’s unfastened corner to flap sluggishly in the wind.No longer certain if my visitors were actual or apparition, I stalk toward the wagon with axe in hand. They are gone into the night, and they have left no trace. Beneath the tarp lies the form of Saeita, frozen in stone in the act of springing forward, and beside her a single corpse wrapped in its shroud.I tie the tarp back into place. Too nervous to sleep, I prod Lars into motion. He brays at me.“Quiet, mule,” I chide, “this is no place to make a camp. Thunderstone is where we’ll rest.” Clack-clack go the wagon’s wheels on the lonely road. The night goes dark and drops rain. Rain is one of those things that used to bother me, used to drive me indoors and bring an inexplicable sadness to my heart. These days I don’t much notice it; there are so many worse things out there to be worrying about a little shower. Even if it chills the skin, it washes clean the eyes.HigharvestideAs it turns out, we reached our final goal on the holiday marking the first day of harvest season. Although not many would find fighting and dying a worthy way to spend a holy day, I see it another way. Somewhere above, on the surface, the faithful of Chauntea wielded scythes and cut down row upon row of wheat. Down here in the dark, we would swing everbright mithril blades and harvest souls for Kelemvor and Clangeddin and Selûne.We moved east, down the ruined avenues of Aerunedar, past the gatehouse of the Arglarllur Bridge, toward where our map showed the former residence of Glamerdrung. That silver wyrm had allied with Aerunedar’s dwarves long ago, and had been slain by Ruathgrym’s magic when the power of Clan Darkfell was broken two hundred years earlier. We imagined that we were here to put things right.Indeed we were–but we were also there to survive.A stone jetty protruded into the dark river, and two longboats were moored at its side. We moved back into the ruins, a good hundred yards from the riverbank, and there we put the reconnaissance phase of our plan into motion. And there we made our first mistakes. Again, none of us could have known what Bronn was planning. I don’t truly believe that even he had any idea of what he was on about. To his credit, he was only hoping to spare our lives–and hopefully his own–by a heroic act of magic.Bronn used spells to protect himself and Saeita from Nightscale’s acid breath. I loaned Saeita my mooncloak, so that she could walk upon the river’s surface, and Bronn consumed a live spider to finish the incantation that would allow him to clamber along the walls. Together they set out, the dwarf and the wild elf, and left the rest of us to wait in uneasy silence. Before long they returned on foot, claiming that they had heard troglodytes in the tunnel and remembered that they had meant to be invisible.It wasn’t like Bronn to forget a detail like that, especially one that involved a spell. I studied him closely, but his demeanor showed only annoyance; there was no indication that he’d done it on purpose to warn Nightscale, so that he could face her on his own and spare the rest of our lives. At that point I should have put a stop to this recon; we should have moved in together, or done our best (as Van would later suggest) to lure her out into the open.But I didn’t, nor did anyone else. Again, this time unseen, they departed.We waited for what seemed like hours, although it was closer to twenty minutes. Far away in the ruins we could hear the occasional bark or whine of a worg, and the flapping of bats and stirges in the stalactites far above. But from the direction of the river, we could hear no sound, no cries for help, no calls to join the battle.Abruptly a drenched Saeita appeared beside us, stepping through the dull flash of a dimension door to collapse upon her knees. Her clothing was torn, her midsection bleeding from a score of jagged wounds. “Bronn,” she gasped as water and blood pooled beneath her, “Bronn’s gone. The invisibility didn’t work.”Only later did we learn what had happened. Bronn and Saeita had made their way slowly and surely downriver, past where they had heard the croaking and splashing. They found a breakwater of flat stones and nothing more than the fading stench of trog. Uncertain but undaunted, they pressed on until a low and flooded side-cavern beckoned. Faint bubbling noises could be heard from within.“Maybe the ziggurat is underwater,” whispered Saeita.“Could be,” Bronn agreed, “let’s move in a little bit.” The cavern was utterly empty, and the rock above looked as though it could collapse at any moment. “Not too far…I don’t like the looks of that ceiling.”“I don’t like any of this,” Saeita said. “Maybe your toad could swim down and see what’s there.”Bronn crawled down the wall to the rippling surface of the dark river. He held Wolf above the water. The toad looked at the water dubiously, then back up at Bronn. To his credit, Bronn placed his tiny familiar back in his pocket. “Too dangerous. We should–”The calm surface exploded in a shower of cold water and at its center was the scaly, skull-like maw of Nightscale, covered with black spines. The dagger teeth clamped down on Bronn and recoiled, and they were both gone. Saeita gaped in disbelief.From where she stood atop the river’s surface, she could see the sudden flare of a spell erupting in the depths, for an instant silhouetting the great serpent. A second later she had made her decision: she ended the claok’s water walk magic and plunged into the cold river.She swam downriver as fast as she could manage through the murky water, but there was no sign of Bronn or Nightscale. Turning a corner, the water cleared and Saeita found herself swimming atop a pool whose depths were strewn with coins, jewels, gems, riches beyond imagining and certainly beyond belief. The lair, she had time to think, I’ve found it–</blockquote>

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