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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4863644" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 60</p><p></p><p></p><p>“Hsst! Someone’s there, just ahead.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron’s warning shocked Mara into full awareness; she realized she’d fallen into a sort of trance, trudging onward through the seemingly endless tunnels of the Labyrinth. They’d left the shores of the underground lake behind hours ago, and hadn’t detected any further signs of their pursuers, either the troglodytes or the duergar slavers from the Horned Hold. </p><p></p><p>Not that it would have mattered if they had been caught; they were in no condition to fight off a pair of giant rats, let alone a party of warriors. </p><p></p><p>Still, she lifted her weapon—a club taken off one of the troglodytes—and stepped forward past Jaron. The halfling had an arrow fitted to his bow, but he deferred to her, showing a trust that right now she didn’t feel entitled to. Behind him the halfling refugees stopped; several slumped to the ground, exhausted beyond endurance. She lifted the lamp she carried, the only one they were using now, its flame fitful. She could feel the remaining oil sloshing around inside it. How much longer would it burn, an hour? They they would be completely dependent on Jaron and Beetle to guide them, unable to see at all. </p><p></p><p>She lifted the lamp higher and steadied her arm to allow the flame to brighten. The shadows of the passage recoiled incrementally, revealing a figure standing there, waiting for them. </p><p></p><p>Relief flooded through her as she recognized him. </p><p></p><p>“Rendil, what are you doing here?” Jaron said from behind her. Mara jumped; she hadn’t heard the ranger following her. </p><p></p><p>The halfling looked the same as he had back in the Hall, and if anything seemed a bit underdressed for the Labyrinth, clad in a simple tunic and breeches, and without weapons save for a small knife tucked into his belt. The halfling did not seem surprised to see them, and raised an eyebrow as his gaze traveled over the three of them and their charges beyond. </p><p></p><p>Mara, Jaron, and Beetle all started to talk at once, relating elements of their recent misadventures. Mara tried to call for order, but her head started swimming, and she found herself suddenly unsteady. After a moment, she realized that Jaron was standing in front of her, looking concerned. She was surprised to find them looking eye-to-eye; somehow she’d ended up on her rear end without realizing it. </p><p></p><p>She looked over at Rendil, who was watching, an odd expression on his face. Jaron offered her his waterskin, which was still half full with water taken from the lake. She allowed herself a few swallows, which didn’t do much to ease her unsteadiness or cure the gnawing hunger in her gut. </p><p></p><p>“Where are the others, Rendil?” Jaron asked, as he took back his skin. “Are we far from the Hall?”</p><p></p><p>“Quite far, actually,” he said. “But you are where you need to be. We stand near the entrance to the Well of Demons, where your erstwhile companions—the dragonborn general and his cohorts—are struggling to free the last of the captives originally taken by the Grimmerzhul.”</p><p></p><p>“Yarine,” Jaron whispered. “We have to get her out of there.”</p><p></p><p>“Wait a minute,” Mara said. “We’re in no position to help anybody. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re almost dead on our feet, and we’ve got people here who are in worse shape. They need food, rest, and a healer’s care.”</p><p></p><p>“I will take the halflings back to the Hall,” Rendil said. </p><p></p><p>“Alone?” Jaron asked. “But—” </p><p></p><p>“There are other allies, not far from here. They will be safe, I assure you.”</p><p></p><p>“Look,” Mara said. “We’d like to help, but this Well of Demons is not our business. We’ve already been through several fights, haven’t eaten or slept in what seems like days, and we don’t exactly have the gear needed to…”</p><p></p><p>She broke off as Rendil reached into a small pouch at his belt. To her surprise, his hand—and a good part of the attached arm—dug deep into it, deeper than should have been possible given its size. He drew out a sword, its hilt wrapped in dark leather, its scabbarded length easily as long as her arm. He offered it to her. </p><p></p><p>Almost by reflex she took it, and drew the steel a few inches from the scabbard. Even in the weak light it shone like a mirror, flawless. </p><p></p><p>Caught up in the spell of the blade, she almost didn’t hear Jaron. “A sword is all well and good, Rendil, but we’re pretty beat up here…”</p><p></p><p>“Drink this,” the halfling replied, offering a small metal bottle that had likewise come from the tiny pouch. “Two swallows each, no more.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron took the bottle, unstoppered it. After a dubious glance, he took a drink. The response was instantaneous; the halfling’s entire body shook, as though he’d taken a shot of hard liquor. His eyes burst wide, and he stared down at the bottle in his hand like a man dying in the desert who’d suddenly found a flask of water within his grasp. </p><p></p><p>“That’s… I feel…” </p><p></p><p>“Take one more draught, then give it to the warrior,” Rendil directed. Jaron did as he said. By the time he handed the bottle to her, Mara had recovered enough to accept it. “What is this?” she asked. </p><p></p><p>“A magical potion. It will ease the physical effects of your ordeal.”</p><p></p><p>She took a small drink. Like Jaron, she felt the effects immediately. The pain, hunger, and exhaustion she’d felt started to fade, as though she’d just eaten a meal and taken a long nap. She blinked and looked at Rendil in surprise; he prodded her to take her second drink, then Beetle all but snatched the bottle from her hand. The halfling drained the remaining liquid in a single gulp, and started bouncing around, animated by whatever magic had resided in the elixir. Mara got to her feet, surprised that she could do so, her body feeling as good as it ever had. </p><p></p><p>Jaron looked back at the halflings under his charge. “What about the others…”</p><p></p><p>“I fear that I have no more of the liquid,” Rendil admitted. “But as I said, I will see that they get safely back to the Hall, you have my word.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t suppose you have a quiver of arrows in that bag, or another bottle of lamp oil?”</p><p></p><p>Rendil shook his head. “I carry no arrows, but this stone will suffice for light.” He drew out what looked like a pebble, which did nothing until Jaron took it. As he held it in his palm, it began to glow, until it shed the radiance that was brighter than that cast by the simple mining lamps. “What you have with you will have to suffice,” Rendil went on. “You must make haste. The fate of your friends hangs upon a fine balance, and even the slightest twinge of fate may make the difference in the outcome.” </p><p></p><p>“Oh… okay,” Jaron said, then tightened his jaw with determination at the thought of Yarine. The three of them turned toward the passage that forked off to the side of the tunnel that Rendil indicated, near where the halfling had greeted them. Jaron looked back to see him urging the halflings from Fairhollow to their feet; to his surprise, they obeyed, despite their exhaustion. He turned and followed Mara and Beetle into the passage. </p><p></p><p>It wasn’t until they were a good fifty feet down the side passage that it occurred to him to wonder how Rendil had known to meet them there. </p><p></p><p>He looked up at Mara, who reflected the same awareness in her eyes. “When this is over, we need to have a little chat with him,” she said. In her tattered clothes, she looked more like a beggar than a fighter, but when she slid her new sword from its scabbard, any doubt about her identity faded away. “Let’s go,” she said, leading them down the passage.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4863644, member: 143"] Chapter 60 “Hsst! Someone’s there, just ahead.” Jaron’s warning shocked Mara into full awareness; she realized she’d fallen into a sort of trance, trudging onward through the seemingly endless tunnels of the Labyrinth. They’d left the shores of the underground lake behind hours ago, and hadn’t detected any further signs of their pursuers, either the troglodytes or the duergar slavers from the Horned Hold. Not that it would have mattered if they had been caught; they were in no condition to fight off a pair of giant rats, let alone a party of warriors. Still, she lifted her weapon—a club taken off one of the troglodytes—and stepped forward past Jaron. The halfling had an arrow fitted to his bow, but he deferred to her, showing a trust that right now she didn’t feel entitled to. Behind him the halfling refugees stopped; several slumped to the ground, exhausted beyond endurance. She lifted the lamp she carried, the only one they were using now, its flame fitful. She could feel the remaining oil sloshing around inside it. How much longer would it burn, an hour? They they would be completely dependent on Jaron and Beetle to guide them, unable to see at all. She lifted the lamp higher and steadied her arm to allow the flame to brighten. The shadows of the passage recoiled incrementally, revealing a figure standing there, waiting for them. Relief flooded through her as she recognized him. “Rendil, what are you doing here?” Jaron said from behind her. Mara jumped; she hadn’t heard the ranger following her. The halfling looked the same as he had back in the Hall, and if anything seemed a bit underdressed for the Labyrinth, clad in a simple tunic and breeches, and without weapons save for a small knife tucked into his belt. The halfling did not seem surprised to see them, and raised an eyebrow as his gaze traveled over the three of them and their charges beyond. Mara, Jaron, and Beetle all started to talk at once, relating elements of their recent misadventures. Mara tried to call for order, but her head started swimming, and she found herself suddenly unsteady. After a moment, she realized that Jaron was standing in front of her, looking concerned. She was surprised to find them looking eye-to-eye; somehow she’d ended up on her rear end without realizing it. She looked over at Rendil, who was watching, an odd expression on his face. Jaron offered her his waterskin, which was still half full with water taken from the lake. She allowed herself a few swallows, which didn’t do much to ease her unsteadiness or cure the gnawing hunger in her gut. “Where are the others, Rendil?” Jaron asked, as he took back his skin. “Are we far from the Hall?” “Quite far, actually,” he said. “But you are where you need to be. We stand near the entrance to the Well of Demons, where your erstwhile companions—the dragonborn general and his cohorts—are struggling to free the last of the captives originally taken by the Grimmerzhul.” “Yarine,” Jaron whispered. “We have to get her out of there.” “Wait a minute,” Mara said. “We’re in no position to help anybody. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re almost dead on our feet, and we’ve got people here who are in worse shape. They need food, rest, and a healer’s care.” “I will take the halflings back to the Hall,” Rendil said. “Alone?” Jaron asked. “But—” “There are other allies, not far from here. They will be safe, I assure you.” “Look,” Mara said. “We’d like to help, but this Well of Demons is not our business. We’ve already been through several fights, haven’t eaten or slept in what seems like days, and we don’t exactly have the gear needed to…” She broke off as Rendil reached into a small pouch at his belt. To her surprise, his hand—and a good part of the attached arm—dug deep into it, deeper than should have been possible given its size. He drew out a sword, its hilt wrapped in dark leather, its scabbarded length easily as long as her arm. He offered it to her. Almost by reflex she took it, and drew the steel a few inches from the scabbard. Even in the weak light it shone like a mirror, flawless. Caught up in the spell of the blade, she almost didn’t hear Jaron. “A sword is all well and good, Rendil, but we’re pretty beat up here…” “Drink this,” the halfling replied, offering a small metal bottle that had likewise come from the tiny pouch. “Two swallows each, no more.” Jaron took the bottle, unstoppered it. After a dubious glance, he took a drink. The response was instantaneous; the halfling’s entire body shook, as though he’d taken a shot of hard liquor. His eyes burst wide, and he stared down at the bottle in his hand like a man dying in the desert who’d suddenly found a flask of water within his grasp. “That’s… I feel…” “Take one more draught, then give it to the warrior,” Rendil directed. Jaron did as he said. By the time he handed the bottle to her, Mara had recovered enough to accept it. “What is this?” she asked. “A magical potion. It will ease the physical effects of your ordeal.” She took a small drink. Like Jaron, she felt the effects immediately. The pain, hunger, and exhaustion she’d felt started to fade, as though she’d just eaten a meal and taken a long nap. She blinked and looked at Rendil in surprise; he prodded her to take her second drink, then Beetle all but snatched the bottle from her hand. The halfling drained the remaining liquid in a single gulp, and started bouncing around, animated by whatever magic had resided in the elixir. Mara got to her feet, surprised that she could do so, her body feeling as good as it ever had. Jaron looked back at the halflings under his charge. “What about the others…” “I fear that I have no more of the liquid,” Rendil admitted. “But as I said, I will see that they get safely back to the Hall, you have my word.” “I don’t suppose you have a quiver of arrows in that bag, or another bottle of lamp oil?” Rendil shook his head. “I carry no arrows, but this stone will suffice for light.” He drew out what looked like a pebble, which did nothing until Jaron took it. As he held it in his palm, it began to glow, until it shed the radiance that was brighter than that cast by the simple mining lamps. “What you have with you will have to suffice,” Rendil went on. “You must make haste. The fate of your friends hangs upon a fine balance, and even the slightest twinge of fate may make the difference in the outcome.” “Oh… okay,” Jaron said, then tightened his jaw with determination at the thought of Yarine. The three of them turned toward the passage that forked off to the side of the tunnel that Rendil indicated, near where the halfling had greeted them. Jaron looked back to see him urging the halflings from Fairhollow to their feet; to his surprise, they obeyed, despite their exhaustion. He turned and followed Mara and Beetle into the passage. It wasn’t until they were a good fifty feet down the side passage that it occurred to him to wonder how Rendil had known to meet them there. He looked up at Mara, who reflected the same awareness in her eyes. “When this is over, we need to have a little chat with him,” she said. In her tattered clothes, she looked more like a beggar than a fighter, but when she slid her new sword from its scabbard, any doubt about her identity faded away. “Let’s go,” she said, leading them down the passage. [/QUOTE]
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