Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

Who is your favorite character in "The Shackled City"?

  • Zenna

    Votes: 27 29.7%
  • Mole

    Votes: 17 18.7%
  • Arun

    Votes: 31 34.1%
  • Dannel

    Votes: 10 11.0%
  • Other (note in a post)

    Votes: 6 6.6%

Thanks for the bump, GPECKO.

200 posts and >5000 views... thanks to all my readers for the support that they've given this story.

Another Dungeon came yesterday, but no Adventure Path installment this time. Since I'm already two modules behind, I don't foresee that becoming a problem... ;)

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Chapter 65

“The truth!” a voice rang out, from the back of the tavern. “And a tale both wonderful and terrible it is!” The attention of everyone swiveled around as Dannel Ardan strode boldly into the tavern, his cloak flaring out behind him as he moved. The elf strode boldly up to an empty chair, and vaulted up onto it, staring out over the gathered crowd.

“I have heard the tale told from one who was there,” Dannel said. “Fighting against the forces of darkness that threatened our town!”

Annah tried to interject, but the crowd’s attention had shifted. Dannel did not hesitate, telling the tale of the battle against Kazmojen in a rapid-fire of descriptive narrative. All of them were present in the telling; herself, Mole, Arun, Ruphos, Fario, Fellian... even the rakish Kryscar Endercott, whose role was elevated into a brave and hopeless charge against the howler in Dannel’s telling. The beholder was not mentioned, but every other aspect of the battle was true to Zenna’s memory of those desperate minutes. His hands moved and cut with each sword-thrust, and when he described the heroic sacrifice of Ruphos to save Arun’s life, Zenna felt tears gather in her eyes. When he was done, and described the final cut that downed Kazmojen, a rousing cry went up from the gathered people.

“And so we do owe thanks to these brave people, my friends,” Dannel concluded, stepping down from the chair and grabbing an untended flagon. “To the heroes of Cauldron,” he said, lifting his drink.

“To the heroes!” came the cry.

Dannel drank deeply, then left the flagon and walked over to the companions. As he walked past the Stormblades, he seemed oblivious to the hostility barely disguised in their expressions.

“That was quite a timely arrival, Dannel,” Mole whispered.

The Stormblades looked to Annah. “A rousing story, elf,” she said, with the slightest nod. Zenna thought that the look in her eyes could cut glass. “Perhaps we will meet again, ‘heroes,’” she said. Then she turned and departed, the others following.

In their wake, the activity in the tavern returned to more or less normal.

“I think it might be prudent to depart now,” Dannel suggested.

“An excellent suggestion,” Zenna said, rising. They headed for the back exit that led to Zenna and Mole’s room above the adjunct building behind the Morkoth. Arun was the last to follow, the dwarf slowly unlocking his fists and his anger before turning to join his companions.

“Wow, I thought that we were going to have a brawl for sure,” Mole said, as they left the main building of the inn. Zenna thought she sounded a bit disappointed.

“What was that all about?” Zenna asked. “Who were those guys?”

“They’re a local adventuring company,” Dannel explained. “I haven’t heard that much about them, but from what I understand they’re all the children of local nobility.”

“Noble brats,” Arun commented.

“But why would they want to pick a fight with us?” Zenna asked, as they made their way into the long building that the inn used for storage and as quarters for a number of its staff. Mole and Zenna had been renting out one of the rooms at the end of the second story for a while now. While they could now afford something a bit more... comfortable, Zenna found that she didn’t mind the proximity to both the excitement of the inn and the main boulevards of the town.

“Maybe they’re just envious that you’ve stolen the spotlight,” the elf suggested. “Or maybe one of you did something to tick them off, without realizing it.”

“Well, if they come looking for trouble again, we’ll just sic Arun on them,” Mole said, unlocking the door to their room and ushering them inside. The room wasn’t large, with barely enough room to accommodate the four of them. There were only two chairs, so Mole leapt up onto one of the beds while Dannel remained standing by the door. Zenna lit the lantern hanging from a nail hammered into the slanting ceiling, and took the seat by the desk before the room’s sole window.

“Comfy,” the elf observed.

“Oh, I’ve got some treasure for you, Dannel,” Mole said, placing her haversack on the nightstand beside her bed.

“We were wondering where you’d gotten off to,” Zenna said.

“Out and about,” the elf responded. “Actually, I’ve been asking some questions, about our ‘friend.’”

Zenna nodded. She knew who the elf was talking about.

“The cleric,” Arun growled.

“Any luck?” Mole asked, tucking a pillow between her back and the wall to make herself more comfortable.

“Well, my subtle queries didn’t lead anywhere,” Dannel reported. “But I guess they prodded something loose, for this morning I found this slid under my door.”

The elf produced a small, neatly folded scrap of parchment. With her curiosity, Mole was the first to reach him, and she took it, unfolding it and moving over to where the lantern’s light was bright enough to read by.

“I know you’re looking for the wands,” Mole read. “I can help, for a price. If you’re interested, come to the Lakeside Pavillion tonight at midnight. Bring 500 gold pieces and you’ll walk away with the location of the wands. Bring backup, and you’ll never find them.”

There was a moment of silence, as Mole finished reading. Zenna finally broke the silence with a single word.

“Well.”

“Trap,” Arun said.

“No doubt it could be,” Zenna noted. “Especially since that cleric has likely heard of our interest by now, and the identity of those who slew her raiders at the Lucky Monkey.”

“The same thought occurred to me,” Dannel said. “But it is the best... the only, lead we have thus far. I take it that the Helmites have not been able to come up with anything?”

Zenna shook her head. “No, though I have not spoken to Jenya or Illewyn since the day before yesterday.”

“So you want to meet with this guy?” Mole asked. “Tonight? We’d better start getting ready, it’s already starting to get dark.”

“The message says that the... individual... will only make an appearance if I come alone.”

“If you’d intended to go alone, you would have just gone and done it, and maybe told us afterwards,” Zenna said wryly. “You don’t strike me as the sort of man who asks for permission—for anything.”

Dannel cracked an irreverent grin. “Am I that transparent, then?”

“So what’s you’re plan then, elf?” Arun growled, clearly impatient.

“Well, obviously I intend to meet with him; we should be able to get the Helmites to cover the cost of the information, if the informant turns out to be legitimate.”

“And if he’s not, and it is a trap?” Zenna asked.

“Well then...”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, for at that moment a sudden, clear knock sounded at the door to the room.
 

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thanks to all my readers for the support that they've given this story.
We are the ones to thank you, Lazy... For such a great story!!


“If you’d intended to go alone, you would have just gone and done it, and maybe told us afterwards,” Zenna said wryly. “You don’t strike me as the sort of man who asks for permission—for anything.”

Dannel cracked an irreverent grin. “Am I that transparent, then?”
I'm starting to like this relationship... ;)
BTW, Dannel gave a fine example of a what a bard's performance is able to accomplish... Praises to the minstrel!!!
 

Chapter 66

Arun’s chair creaked dangerously as the dwarf stood, his heavy warhammer seeming to leap into his hands. Dannel spun smoothly, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and even Mole had produced a knife from out of nowhere.

“Stormblades looking for more trouble?” Zenna asked no one in particular. Mole crept silently to the door and listened at it, finally shaking her head. Arun moved toward the door; his armor clanked noisily in the quiet of the room, and the floorboards creaked under his weight. Zenna shook her head; there was nothing to be done for it now, although the noise would likely have alerted whoever was beyond the door that someone was within.

Dannel moved into position on the far side of the portal, having to bend his head against the slope of the low roof. He didn't draw his sword, but he was clearly ready for whatever might happen.

Mole glanced at each of them to verify that they were prepared, and then opened the door.

The narrow hall was unoccupied by Stormblades, or other obvious dangers. Standing before the door was a shadowy figure, whose face was revealed as the light from the room spilled over her familiar features.

"Shensen!" Mole exclaimed. "What a surprise!"

The half-drow woman entered the room, giving them a wary look as she observed their state of readiness. She looked rather more at ease than the last time they had seen her, and she now wore a clean robe of soft brown wool that flowed over her lithe body as she moved. A leather satchel that bulged slightly with its contents hung from one shoulder. Dannel closed the door and moved back toward the center of the room, where he could stand straight, and Arun returned to his chair, grumbling something under his breath.

"What brings you to us, Shensen?” Zenna asked. “Do you have any news about what... what happened?”

Shensen shook her head, her long white hair falling about her shoulders like the surge from a waterfall. “My fellow followers of the Wandering God have been able to find out little more than what we already knew. We did uncover one interesting fact: the identity of the red-haired woman.”

“The Banite?” Mole asked. “Who is she?”

“A former guardswoman named Triel Eldurast,” Shensen explained. “From what we’ve heard, she was a bit of a taut bowstring, aggressive and ill-suited to discipline. Apparently there was an incident where she murdered a few of her fellow guards while on duty, then dropped out of sight. This happened almost a decade ago, so she’s been all but forgotten by most people.”

“Where did you get this information?” Dannel asked.

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “We have some confidential sources that I cannot divulge, even to trusted allies such as yourselves.”

“Bah, so much for trust, then,” Arun said. “What you got is rumors and innuendo, then.”

“Well, it’s more information than we had,” Zenna cautioned him. “Thank you for sharing it with us, Shensen.”

“Hey, have you seen Fellian?” Mole asked. Like Shensen, Fellian was a follower of Shaundakul, and had fought with them against dire enemies in the recent past.

“I have not,” Shensen. “Though I have heard that he is well. He and Fario have been tasked to a different mission.”

Arun’s frown mirrored Dannel’s, but neither bothered to ask, already knowing that the followers of the Wandering God were closed-mouthed about the details of their activities in Cauldron. Likewise, Shensen did not ask them about their own leads, and none of the four felt inclined to volunteer any details of the note and their earlier discussion.

There was a brief and slightly awkward silence, then Mole asked, “So, Shensen, are you heading back to the Lucky Monkey?”

“Indeed. There is much work to be done, I fear, to repair the damage wrought by Tongueater and his cronies. I did wish, however, to express my gratitude to you one more time.”

“Those rogues had it coming to them,” Arun disclaimed.

“I have brought you a small token, a more substantial expression of the thanks of my association,” she said. Opening the satchel, she produced a pair of leather boots.

“Footwear?” Dannel asked.

“These are magical boots,” Shensen explained. “They add length to the wearer's stride, and enhance one's jumping ability as well.”

Mole was quick to leap forward for a closer look. “Really?” Then she realized something, and her expression sank. “Oh, they’re sized for big folk,” she said. “Too bad.”

Shensen shook her head. “As I said, they are magical. Try them on, perhaps you’ll be surprised.”

“Okay!” Mole took the boots and sat down right there on the floor, shedding her own footwear in a flash before shoving her feet into the boots. True to Shensen’s words, the magical boots shrank down to fit her diminutive feet, forming a tight yet comfortable fit about her ankles. Mole shot up, testing her footing and twisting her body to examine them from a variety of angles.

“Oh,” she said, looking up at her companions. “I guess they are for all of us...”

“You should take them,” Zenna said. “You are the slowest of all of us, with your short legs; it makes sense.”

“Aye, maybe now you can finally keep up!” Arun added.

With a small cry of glee Mole darted forward. There wasn’t really anywhere to go in the small room, but as she reached the wall she leapt straight up, kicking off from the wall right where the slanting ceiling met it, five feet above the ground. Her body twisted smoothly in the air, and she tucked herself into a roll as she shot off the wall back toward the center of the room. She was headed right for the desk when Dannel quickly stepped in and caught her.

“Careful, there! Maybe you’d better wait to test them when we have a little more room.”

“Most excellent!” Mole reported.

“A bouncing gnome, just what we need,” Arun observed dryly.

“Thank you, Shensen,” Zenna said.

“And I thank you. Perhaps we will meet again in the future.” With a last bow to all of them, the half-drow woman turned and departed, closing the door behind her.

“A strange woman,” Dannel observed, as he set Mole back down on her feet.

“Hiding something,” Arun noted.

“Aren’t we all?” Zenna asked.

“True enough,” Dannel replied. He crossed to the wall where he’d left his bow. “It’s getting dark... we still have a lot to do.”
 

I guess I've been reading your story hour too long, LB.

From that short update, I know exactly where the Friday cliffhanger is going to be! Heh.

Looking forward to it.
 


Happy Halloween, all!

* * * * *

Chapter 67

The night was cold and dark, with a soft but steady rain that filled the great bowl of Cauldron, descending its streets and alleys to end up eventually by pouring into the black lake at its center. The night wind came and went in gusts, flapping the colorful awnings that had been set up along the city’s major thoroughfares in anticipation of the Flood Festival.

Down by the lakeshore, the streets were deserted, as anyone with even a lick of sense chose to stay indoors where it was warm and dry. Even the occasional patrols of the City Guard didn’t bother to come down here this night, departing their guardhouses only to conduct hurried sweeps of the higher streets along the rim of the bowl before returning to the laughter and dice that waited in heated chambers of old stone.

The Lakeshore Pavilion was just a vague shadow in the night, even to Zenna’s darkvision. From her vantage, she could see it silhouetted against the flat expanse of the lake, but could make out little more than that. Yet she dared not approach closer. Dannel had been specific on that, and Zenna had been forced to agree. They could not risk losing the only concrete lead they’d been able to uncover thus far, even if it meant risking a trap.

Mole would be closer, she knew, but in circumstances like this Mole was like a part of the night itself, finding the darkest part of the shadows and sliding into them like a sword sliding into its scabbard. Arun had been... a bit more difficult. Zenna smiled despite herself at the memory. Arun was smarter than his gruff manner and hard exterior suggested, she knew, and he’d ultimately bowed to the logic of the situation. The dwarf just wasn’t suited to an operation based on stealth and subtlety, like this one. But he’d made his displeasure known, before finally agreeing to wait for them at a quiet hole-in-the-wall tavern, one of the few still open at this hour, several blocks away.

The rain made a constant patter against her cloak. She was already soaked, the threadbare garment a poor substitute for her usual cloak, but despite the weather had insisted on going with her original idea to head out disguised. Anyone who happened to catch sight of her would see only a ragged wretch huddling in a doorway, a man well into middle age who’d clearly been ill-used by life. She was getting more used to the powers of her hat of disguise, and found that she could swiftly switch between personas with just a few moments of concentration. Under the battered cloak that formed the exterior of her disguise, her dagger and spell components were within easy reach.

The wind picked up again, filling her shelter with the sound of its coming. With her innate resistance to cold she wasn’t as poorly off as a true homeless person would be, but she was far from comfortable. But she forgot about her discomfort, as she saw a vague form break the familiar outline of the Pavillion, across the street and a half-block away, on the very shore of the lake. The waters of the lake had risen up to surround the heavy wooden pilings that supported the structure, giving it the illusion of floating upon the water. A few of the buildings along the lakeshore had water lapping up against their very doorsteps, adding a sense of urgency to their mission. If they didn’t find the wands of control water, flood season this year could be catastrophic for Cauldron.

She watched the Pavillion intently, cursing silently at her inability to see clearly what was happening. Inwardly she resolved to learn one of the spells that allowed one to better perceive events at a distance. The figure at the Pavillion had to be Dannel, but she could not tell if there was another person there with him. They’d agreed on a predetermined signal, a small display of colored light easily conjured with a prestidigation spell, but she knew that the reality was that Dannel was more or less on his own, if in fact the message was a trap. She didn’t know where Mole was, but doubted that either of them would be able to get to Dannel quickly enough to aid him if an ambush was sprung.

She tensed as she caught a hint of movement from the direction of the Pavillion. Someone was coming down the street, in her direction. Reflexively she shrank deeper into the darkness of the doorway, but as the figure drew closer, she was able to see that it was Dannel. The elf was moving quickly, his boots splashing in several inches of water with each step. He spotted her, belatedly—even with his keen elvish eyes, he couldn’t match her darkvision—and nodded.

Zenna rose, and clung to the lee of the buildings along the side of the street as she followed the elf away from the meeting place. She finally caught up to him as they rounded the corner that led up to the tavern where Arun waited.

“Well?” came a little voice just behind her. Zenna jumped about a foot into the air before she realized that it was Mole, virtually invisible in her dark cloak.

Dannel looked at both of them, the rain falling in runnels off the hood of his cloak and down his body. “I got it,” he said. “I know where the wands are being held.”
 
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Chapter 68

Dawn was just a faint promise on the jagged horizon formed by the line of peaks that overshadowed Cauldron to the east. The rain had eased off sometime during the night, and a thick fog hung over the caldera, spilling out over the wall and spreading thick fingers down the outer slopes of the volcano.

The companions stood at the summit of the volcano, facing outward, the impassive thickness of the city wall behind them. They were a good distance away from the nearest gate; no road or track led down from here, just a rough and uneven slope that promised little but broken bones and treacherous slides.

“Here we go,” Dannel said. A few feet away, Mole yawned.

Zenna felt tired as well. She hadn’t slept much since their encounter at the Pavillion; none of them had, really, with the need to make preparations and knowing that once more they would be thrust into mortal danger. It was a good thing that she’d already had a full complement of spells memorized; she doubted that she would have been able to get anything out of her spellbook after a night like this one. She could feel the spells tingling in her mind, an odd mixture of the spells from her book and the ones that had appeared in her thoughts with the meditative exercises that Esbar had taught her.

She glanced over at Illewyn. The young woman was resolute, her face tight in an expression that had not been part of her when Zenna had first met her, little more than a tenday ago. There had been little time to give Jenya more than a sketchy briefing of what they’d learned, but Illewyn had been quick to volunteer to accompany them. Admittedly the source and veracity of their information was still sketchy—Dannel hadn’t been able to tell more than that his informant had been human—but it was still all they had to go on. And they had to assume that the information was good, that they would encounter Triel Eldurast and whatever allies she still possessed when they completed this trek.

“Let’s get about this, then,” Arun growled.

They’d already worked out their roles, already knew each other’s talents from their struggles together at the Lucky Monkey. Dannel led them down, the nimble elf directing them along the safest and most direct path. Behind him came Mole, hopping a bit with each step, and then Arun, the dwarf clanking slightly with the noise of his armor and weapons. Then Zenna, a shade in her dark cloak, and Illewyn bringing up the rear.

They made their way down the slope in silence, save for the noise of their gear and Arun’s perpetual clatter. Only a few minutes after they’d started, Zenna looked back over her shoulder—the wall of the city was lost behind them, faded into the fog. It was as if they were in a world where everything was just a ghostly shadow of reality, even their own forms dark and indistinct. It was a morbid thought, especially given what she’d experienced with the Vanishing, so she pushed those thoughts aside with a shudder and forced herself to focus on the treacherous track. Behind her she heard a slight clatter and a muffled curse. Zenna belatedly realized that Illewyn had to be all but blind in these circumstances, so she quickly turned back to help the cleric.

It didn’t take them much longer before Dannel brought them to a halt with a raised hand. The others gathered behind him. Zenna, with her darkvision, could clearly see what the keen-eyed elf had spotted, a low mound formed by a dozen massive boulders that jutted from the mountainside like a pimple.

“I’ll go check it out,” he said. “Wait here.”

Arun grumbled, but even he didn’t offer further complaint as the elf darted off into the shadowy mists. He was only gone for a minute, Zenna thought, before he returned, the news of his success written clearly on his face.

“There’s a shaft that leads deeper into the mountain,” he said. “It would appear that our informant was correct, at least about that.”

“Let’s hope that they aren’t expecting guests,” Mole said.

Dannel directed them to the entrance. The shaft sloped steeply but appeared to be navigable; its walls were cylindrical and smooth. The passage was utterly and purely black.

“Lava tube, most like,” Arun said.

“Even you are going to need light down there, elf,” Illewyn said. “I will call light to brighten our way.”

“All right, but keep it shrouded,” Dannel said. “I’ll go on a bit ahead, check for ambushes or guards.”

“No offense, elf, but even with your vaunted eyes, you’re not going to be able to see nothing down there. I should go in the lead; my dwarven senses are suited to such work.” Arun started for the entrance, as if taking their assent for granted.

“No offense taken, ser dwarf,” Dannel returned, moving quickly to block him without seeming to do so. “But sound carries as well as light in the dark places under the earth, and you are rather... noisy... in that most impressive getup.”

It looked like an argument might be brewing, but Zenna surprised them both—and perhaps herself—by stepping in between them. “I’ll go ahead,” she said. “I have the benefit of both darkvision and stealth, as I do not wear armor.”

Both the elf and the dwarf looked at her with obvious disapproval. “If there is trouble down there...” Arun began.

“I’ll come right back and get you,” she promised.

The two shared a look, and Zenna felt a combination of prickly anger at their presumption of control over her, and a brief hope that they would press her, force her to back down from this crazy plan. She didn’t really want to be the first to go...

Finally, Dannel nodded. “Be careful,” he said.

They moved into the mouth of the tube. Zenna looked down at her hand, white and slender against the dark colors of her clothing. She concentrated for a moment, calling the power of her magical hat, and the hand darkened until it was nearly black in color. She knew that her face would likewise be darkened, and wouldn’t give her away if a light appeared below.

“Oh, that’s a nice trick,” Mole said in approval.

Zenna closed her eyes and called upon her magic. The words and gestures flowed easily, and she felt the power surge through her momentarily. Again she felt a brief confusion—this spell was scribed in her spellbook, but she had drawn upon it from some... outside source, had not committed it to memory the way she normally did. She shook her head. This was not the time for introspection. She felt the familiar tingle as the invisible mage armor settled about her.

Then she took a deep breath, and started into the tunnel.
 

Chapter 69

The darkness swallowed up Zenna before she’d taken a few paces. With her darkvision she could see quite clearly, of course, but there was still an oppressive sense to the tunnel, as though the surrounding rock were eager to crush her for her insolence at penetrating its fastness.

She made her way swiftly, the soft soles of her boots whisking faintly on the smooth floor of the tube. She touched the wall, and her fingers came away damp with condensation. The air from below was damp and stale, but she thought she could detect the faintest hint of a breeze. Behind her she could hear the sounds of the others as they started into the tube after her. Glancing back, she could see the faint glow that had to be Illewyn’s magical light.

She hastened her pace. The shaft apparently led deep into the mountain, for she progressed for some time without any break or other variation in the tunnel. Finally, however, different sounds began to intrude upon her senses, sounds of air and water that hinted at a larger space up ahead. Warily, she pressed on.

The shaft finally emerged onto a broad shelf that overlooked a larger cavern, its borders far beyond the capabilities of her darkvision to measure. But directly in front of her was an incongruous sight that took a few moments for her to identify. It was a lift, a metal cage attached to cables that ran from somewhere below in the cavern into a plain structure of rough-worked stone that perched on the far side of the ledge to her left. A door provided access to the building.

After glancing around to make sure that she was alone on the ledge, she crept forward and looked out over the lip of the ledge. She could not see the bottom of the cavern below, but from the sounds and smells she guessed that there was a body of water beneath. Not surprising, given that Cauldron stood on the shores of a lake. From closer up she could see that the cage was designed to hold a number of passengers, and had a small gate in one side to allow access. There was no apparent way to move it from within, however; the mechanism had to be inside the building. She wasn’t about to press on further without the others, however.

They arrived just a few minutes later, the clank of Arun’s movements announcing them even before Illewyn’s light spilled out over the ledge. The cleric held the light under her cloak, letting out just enough of a glow for her to see the ground ahead of her. To Zenna’s eyes, adjusted to the darkness, that glow shone like a beacon. If there was anyone out and about in the cavern below...

Well. There was no helping that now, she thought.

Zenna gestured toward the door, and the companions gathered before the portal. Weapons were readied and everyone took up a position to give them a good vantage; having worked together before, the adventurers needed no discussion to prepare themselves. Dannel held an arrow to his bowstring with his left hand, and reached over the push open the portal with his right.

The door opened easily, despite its considerable appearance. Beyond was a compact chamber, maybe twenty feet square, dominated by the winch mechanism for the cage outside. Thick cables penetrated the wall overlooking the chasm, connected by an intricate gear mechanism to the heavy wheel that operated the system. There were a few long, flat boards piled up against one wall, and a door similar to the one through which they'd entered on the opposite wall.

The companions moved quickly into the chamber. Arun took a quick look at the winch mechanism, while Mole moved swiftly to the far door. Illewyn walked over to the far side of the winch mechanism, careful not to shine her light directly on the cable openings, and as she was looking around saw something on the wall that drew her attention.

Moving closer, she saw that it was a flat stone of some sort, sticking to the wall at about chest-height as if fixed with glue. Curious, she reached out to touch it...

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” Dannel said from behind her, interrupting her with her hand just a scant foot from the stone.

“What?” she said, turning around, drawing her hand back hastily.

“I wouldn’t touch that,” he repeated. “I’ve seen devices like that one before... ordinary objects sticking to a flat surface like a lodestone on a metal sheet. Sometimes such things are enchanted with a spell that gives an alarm when someone touches them... or even moves by, in some cases.”

“Well, we’re lucky it’s not the latter, this time,” Zenna said. She cautiously approached the stone, and summoned a cantrip. Sure enough, the oblong rock began to glow, indicating that a magical aura was in fact placed upon it.

“Shhh,” Mole said, directing their attention to the door. As they moved to join her, she whispered, “I think I hear voices.”

“Now you’re talking,” Arun growled.
 
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