The Dusklorn Matron
“The disruption following Pedestal’s fall lasts even unto this hour, though I must admit the vacuum provided by the fleeing Drow has been to my advantage. Consider, though, that the reason this city did and does not completely collapse into chaos is due to my efforts. Nearly everyone here appreciates my influence. But gratitude doesn’t last, and others seek to displace me.”
Es Sarch’s voice fell to a whisper. “The Assassins’ Guild has decided to seek an alliance with house Dusklorn. If my agents were to disrupt this burgeoning accord, I fear I’d do more to cement the relationship than diffuse it. I ask you to eliminate or drive off Elessarwa Nledoor, matron of the house and a psychotic to boot. I have knowledge of a hidden route into her secret torture chamber, where she slinks away from her duties to the Dusklorn to apply her savage arts to hapless victims she takes from Pedestal’s alleys. I have arranged matters so the Dusklorn will believe her death to be the work of the duplicitous Assassins’ Guild. That will be the end of that.”
This time it was Tristan who stepped forward, “You say we can try to convince her to leave?”
Es Sarch’s faint hissing laugh lasted only a short time. “Yes Paladin, if you can convince her to leave and never return, that would be acceptable. I expect you will find her evil through and through and you will be left with no alternative but to kill her in self defense if you do not act first.”
After a brief consultation amongst themselves, they agreed to the task.
“Good,” said Es Sarch as he reached into one of the voluminous sleeves of his robe and produced a folded parchment. “This will get you where you need to be without taking on the whole of House Dusklorn which would only lead to certain death.”
Bootsy accepted the paper and unfolded it.
Find the old tannery on Matron Road near the wall that encircles Nobles Bluff. The skin shop’s ghastly smell yet lingers in the area. Inside, on the southern wall, find a green stain in the shape of a three fingered hand. That stain marks the location of a hidden trap door that opens to a passage under the building. Follow this tunnel to its highest point. You’ll come to a doorway of a chamber used by Elessarwa for her arts.
“Right. Let’s get ready.”
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They could smell the old tannery before they could see it. As they got closer they could smell the faint odor of the urine and feces used in the tanning process. The stomach turning odor got worse as they neared a run-down, single story structure of limestone and granite. There was a wide open doorway in the middle of the wall. As they entered, the stench became almost overpowering. Yellow-green luminescence clung to every surface, outlining dozens of clay vats that cover large portions of the floor. Dilapidated tables along the walls were stained with the outlines of stretched hides, some humanoid in shape. On the southern wall was a glowing green stain in the shape of a three fingered hand. Sitting beneath the stain, it’s back supported by the wall, was a humanoid figure whose identity was lost in filthy rags.
The companions all looked to the paladin. What they saw was a rather surprised look and a shake of his head indicating he detected no evil. Tristan stepped forward, “Excuse me…”
The figure looked up, seemingly startled by the break in the silence of the room. Beneath the cowl they could make out the features of a Drow Elf, but his eyes blazed with intensity and his expression led the companions to only one conclusion. This Drow was insane. Before Tristan can continue, he was interrupted by the Drow who leapt to his feet.
“I am Numa, A prophet! I see what will be and I see the end of existence! See there?” He yelled, pointing to the eastern wall of the room where there was nothing more than the mold that covered the whole room. “It punches up from the deep core to the sunburned surface, rising higher and higher, until it is lost in the white mists that shroud the top of the world. What is it? Not alive, not quite. It is a glyph-scribed obelisk wrapped in eternal storm, hollowed and inhabited by slimy creatures whose hunger can never be sated!”
He moved to the middle of the room staring wildly at the wall as if there was something more there to see. The companions saw his pocked flesh and stepped back giving him room to continue his rant.
“It is the city that heralds the end,” Numa continued in a harsh whisper. “A city primeval regurgitated by the earth! Vast creatures of the deeps wing ‘bout it and tentacles slither within. Who lives in the city? Sinful, soft carapaces surround minds that churn with philosophies hostile to all other creatures. Roused from the drowned depths, the fabled city is fable no more!”
Tristan edged forward. “That’s, uh, interesting, but we have some business here we would like to take care of and it would be best if you weren’t here to witness it.”
Numa’s face grew to look almost sad as he shuffled out the door. “I wish the bugs in my hair would comb it.”
Following the directions given by Es Sarch, Shar quickly found the secret trapdoor. Opening it, they found a five foot wide shaft that dropped to a wet sloped tunnel.
The smell of damp earth and stone was a welcome relief from the odor of the tannery above. The passage sloped slightly upward to the north and downward to the south. Ages of dripping water had birthed stalagmites and stalactites that lined the tunnel like teeth and tiny rivulets of water burbled down the passage, off into the darkness.
They followed the ten foot wide ascending tunnel for about three hundred feet before they saw it veer southeast and downward once again.
Bootsy looked to the wall at the center of the arc in the tunnel. “This must be the place,” he whispered.
As they came around the corner they saw motion in the tunnel at the opposite end of the arc as a large abomination skittered forth. From the carapace of a giant spider rose the torso of a Drow female. The creature hissed and started forward.
Frankie charged forward to meet the creature and slashed the Drider across the torso. Angered the creature stepped back and unleashed a spell. A pea sized ball flew across the tunnel and blossomed into a huge ball of fire that engulfed Shar, Wencis and Tristan. All three were left with horrible burns. Shar and Celtir returned fire with arrows but both shots missed their targets. Bootsy cast and a ray of fire struck the creature, burning away some of its flesh. Wencis charged forward and struck the creature with his glowing gauntlets burning her even more. The creature took a step back and fired a Scorching Ray right into Wencis’ chest dropping him for the second time in as many days. Frankie’s axe quickly put an end to the threat.
A quick search revealed the creature carried little but did have a wand among her possessions. Bootsy was unable to contain his excitement. “I can’t identify it, can anyone check to see what it does?”
To everyone’s surprise Celtir stepped forward. “One of my elders was a Mage who showed me some basic concepts in using magical devices.” A few subtle manipulations sent a pea sized ball flying down the corridor where it burst into a ball of fire.
An excited Bootsy grabbed the wand from Celtir's hands. “Great! I’ll see if Es Sarch has someone to identify it when we get back.”
The companions gathered around and a quick search by Shar revealed the secret entrance. As Shar moved to open the door Celtir looked around the tunnel. Something didn’t seem right. “Wait, are we missing someone? There are only five of us here.”
Frankie looked back toward the dead Drider. “Oh
! Wencis!” Celtir and Tristan ran over to where the incarnate lay bleeding on the floor, partially hidden by the fallen body of the Drider and healed him, placing him back among the conscious.
“Ouch, Tough Fight. Good thing we’re all in this together,” Wencis said as he received some additional healing from the cleric.
Everyone was trying to hide guilty looks until Bootsy broke the silence. “Yeah, we better see if we can find that secret entrance now that you’re feelin’ better. Oh look, there it is,” he said, pointing at the wall without even looking at it.
Moving back to the door Shar checked to see if it was locked. The moment she touched the door there was a loud ringing sound. Finding the door locked and realizing whoever was within may be summoning help, she started to work feverishly at the lock. “It’s too complicated for me to open quickly.”
A quick shove by Frankie, Wencis and Celtir showed the stone door was too sturdy for them to break through. Left with little choice, Shar tried again with her tools. Two minutes later, she finally succeeded in unlocking the door. Unsure of what this delay would do to their chances of success, they opened the door, ready for anything.
Dim light beyond revealed iron maidens, racks and other intricate contraptions in alcoves and spaced throughout the room. The northeastern alcove was closed off with bars and two forlorn gray-skinned gnomes stared out from behind them. Near the northern wall stood a stone altar adorned with intricate carvings of a spider that had the head of a female elf. Atop the altar was another gray gnome who whimpered as he struggled feeble against the manacles that held him.
Glaring at the companions from behind the altar were two Drow. One was a striking female with chin-length silver hair and glittering chain armor. The other was a slight, bald male clothed in loose black pants. Both held shiny daggers.
Both groups regarded each other for a moment and then there was a flurry of spell casting. Bootsy was the first to finish and his Scorching Ray struck the female Drow right in the face. Struck dead in an instant, she didn’t even have time to cry out and simply collapsed to the ground. Frankie charged the male and struck him with his axe. If this fazed him in the least, it didn’t show as the Drow cast a sheet of webs over the entire entryway, effectively blocking the entrance. No one was caught within the webs though most were caught outside the room. Tristan was able to make it in and ran around to slash at the male Drow. Frankie's axe quickly finished the job.
As Bootsy burned away the webs, Tristan and Frankie set about releasing the poor gnomes from their captivity.
Gathering what equipment they could use, Celtir cast Detect Magic and a surprising amount of it was magic, including a wicked looking dagger. “Looks like we’ll have a lot to Identify once we get back. I hope Es Sarch has a reliable person, uh, creature or whatever on staff.”
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The following morning the companions reconvened in the common room. Es Sarch had indeed found a spellcaster to Identify all their new equipment for five hundred and fifty gold coins.
They gathered around Es Sarch to hear what he had discovered. “You have more than my gratitude for completing the tasks I set you; I also have answers for you. First, I have discovered that Fadheela lairs in the Necromancers Spike, as unlikely a haven as I could have imagined. But our fair Fadheela possesses resources that extend beyond Pedestal. She found a way to bypass the zone of decay that surrounds the column’s entry. And now I know that way too.
“To enter the Necromancer’s Spike, one of you must carry this token,” Es Sarch held up an obsidian ring on which a skull was inscribed. Tristan stepped forward to accept it as Es Sarch continued. “It will save you from destructive magic protecting the first room within. Take care, however, for the ring suppresses the deathly effects for only a minute or so.
“Unfortunately, undead decay in that chamber even if they carry the ring, so I have been unable to learn anything else of the Vanguard of Sertrous other than that the groups arrival is recent here in the Great Grotto. I suspect this mysterious faction has found a convenient entry point into the Underdark somewhere within the Necromancer’s Spike. Fadheela, as an associate of the Assassins’ Guild in Pedestal, is a perfect agent.
“House Dusklorn has claimed the Spike. You’ll face soldiers at its entryway but not within. Unlike you and ostensibly, this Fadheela, they have no way to get past the magic that protects the first room.
“If you gain entry and survive, I hope you return and tell me what you learn. I can make it worth your while.”
Bootsy smiled, “Oh, we’ll be back, you can be sure of that.”
End of Session 8.
