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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1660516" data-attributes="member: 143">Thanks, Dungannon!  I liked how that scene came together; I'm glad you enjoyed it.* * * * * Chapter 181 They were running out of healing magic, Zenna thought, as she replaced her healing wand back in its pocket sewn into the lining her belt pouch.  As far as she knew, they were completely done with the healing potions they’d brought with them from Cauldron, and after treating the injuries they all suffered—well, except for Mole, she’d hadn’t been scratched—the stored energies in her wand were nearly depleted.  Still, they were going to push on.  What else could they do?  They’d defeated the hags, at least—though Mole had told them that the last one had escaped—and now they had to confirm the grim outcome of Alek Tercival’s fate with which the hags had tormented them.    Morgan had not been able to help them with that; the channel of mental contact established by the hag’s dark magic had only been one-way, and while he’d been able to perceive what was happening, as a helpless observer in his own body, he could not tell them if their taunts had been based in truth.  He did report that he hadn’t seen any more giants, although the mystery of the flapping wings that Zenna and Mole had both heard was revealed as the cleric told them of a small imp-like creature, which had served the hags as a spy and messenger.  “They spoke of someone named Nabthatoron,” he told them.  “From their words and tone, I gathered that he was someone of great power in this region.”“The demon,” Dannel said, and Zenna had nodded.  But there was nothing for it but to continue. They retreated out of the complex, but only temporarily, to recover Morgan’s armor and shield.  Arun had dismissed his companion again following the battle, so they all walked together, their sounds of their footsteps echoing hollowly off the walls of the canyon.  The cleric had accompanied them stiffly, his pain not entirely physical.  He’d tried to wash off the sigils painted onto his body by the hags, but even though he was able to blur some of them beyond recognition, scrubbing his torso with a lye cake provided from Mole’s bag, Zenna knew that they would likely remain intact, inside of him, for some time to come. They ate a somber meal, and drank deeply from their waterskins, and then gathered up their weapons and returned to the complex.  Arun had offered Morgan his sword back, but the knight refused.  Instead he took up the blackened iron club that the hags had given him.  Zenna suspected that there was some overwrought meaning in the gesture from the man’s point of view, but she didn’t feel like debating it with him.  She too was tired, eager for this journey to end, whether the outcome was for good or for ill. They returned to the complex, still wary, but nothing emerged from the quiet halls to challenge them this time.  They returned to the room where they’d battled the hags, and climbed to the top of the platform.  The chamber smelt of blood and death, and they knew that in the warm, damp climate, rot would soon follow.  They gave the corpse of the dead hag a wide berth and headed toward one of the sliding doors.  The door slid aside at their approach to reveal another corridor, ten feet wide with a vaulted ceiling fifteen feet above.  The corridor deposited them in another room, a relatively compact chamber roughly thirty feet square.  “Home sweet home,” Mole said. Indeed the place had the look of a residence, and even before one looked at the three beds arranged against the far wall it was evident that this was the demesne of the hags.  A series of golden baboon masks were hung along the north wall, and rich carpets and tapestries covered the floor and walls.  Several skeins of fine yarn were laid out around chairs to their left, suggesting that at least some of the designs in the place were the product of the chamber’s former owners.  A chest to their left in the corner completed the décor. “It’s sad,” Dannel said, examining one of the tapestries with a critical eye.  “Some of this stuff is really good, actually, and yet it came from minds steeped so in evil.”“Bah,” Hodge said, but the dwarf fidgeted, unable to think of anything further to say. “They chose their fate,” Arun said, closing the matter, at least in his mind. Mole had made a beeline for the chest.  “Well now, what do we have here?” she said, flexing her fingers before examining the lock. “Careful, there might be traps,” Zenna said. Mole shot her a look—well, duh—before returning to her work.  But her examination did not find any obvious dangers, and it appeared that the chest was unlocked as well.  Apparently the hags had been confident in their ability to repel intruders in their lair.  Mole opened the chest, revealing an assortment of neatly stacked items of value.  With a small cry of glee she began digging through them, cataloguing each and placing them on a nearby carpet.  “Good stuff,” Hodge said, picking out a golden armband.  “All this,” he added, indicating the contents of the chamber, “Worth more ‘an a few coppers, me thinks.”Mole nodded seriously.  “Yeah, but how are we going to lug it all out of here?”Morgan cleared his throat tentatively.  “It is clear that Alek Tercival is not here,” he offered, but it was clear that he still lacked his old fire, for he did not press the matter, and the others ignored him.  Mole found a scroll and unrolled it, giving its contents a quick scan.  “Here, Zenna, this is for you,” she said. Arun was watching them from nearby, and took interest in a number of securely stoppered vials that Mole next drew from the chest.  “Healing potions?” he asked.  Mole opened one, took a sniff and a tiny taste, and nodded.  “Those will be useful,” the paladin said.  Zenna, meanwhile, had examined the scroll.  It was clearly arcane, although the complex formulae were beyond her.  She cast a read magic cantrip, and sucked in a startled breath.  There were some powerful spells here!  She felt a tingle as she looked over the spell titles... prying eyes, greater dispel, sequester...Dannel, meanwhile, had turned to examine the rest of the room.  “I saw a mask like these in Cauldron,” he said, noting the baboon masks affixed to the walls.  In the halfling’s shop.  Alek Tercival had brought it back, sold it to him.”Zenna and Morgan both turned to him.  “I wonder if he got it here?” the tiefling asked.  “Perhaps.  Or perhaps they are remnants of some larger ancient civilization, with artifacts like these scattered throughout the area.”“Okay, I think that’s all of it!” Mole said.  She indicated the spread of treasure.  In addition to a small bag of gold coins, there was a set of assorted silver dishes, a plain copper chain necklace set with small brass orbs, four potions, and a light mace with a handle crafted out of bone.  “Zenna, what’s magical?”The tiefling returned to that side of the room and cast another cantrip, scanning the items.  “The necklace, the potions, and the mace,” she said.  “Ah,” Mole said.  She took up the mace, her small hands barely fitting around the thick haft.  “Well, this isn’t as good as my sword, but it might do a bit more damage than that little knife of mine.  If no one minds?”  Hodge took up the necklace and shrugged it over his head and thick beard.  He looked down at it, his eyes widening in surprise.  “This be gold!” he said in surprise. Dannel came over and examined it closely.  “Interesting,” he said.  “I have seen the like once before only... a necklace of missiles.  These orbs can be hurled at a foe, and explode in a magical fireball.  A potent device, but one must be careful, lest an orb be detonated by mistake.”Hodge quickly—and carefully—removed the necklace, shoving it at the elf.  “Bah, I only wanted honest metal and a nice gem or two!” Mole was already packing some of the silver dishes into her bag of holding.  She looked wistfully around, as if regretting the treasure that they would not be able to carry out of here.  Zenna’s gaze had returned to the baboon masks.  They were well done, and seemed to be watching their movements.  She shuddered, but the feeling brought back a memory, of something she had been told earlier...“Arun,” she said.  “Does it seem like those masks are watching us?”The dwarf looked at her in confusion, but then a realization hit.  “The celestial’s message.”Mole looked up, interested again.  “What?” “The celestial who spoke to us, told us of a great treasure, in the lair of her ‘false sisters,’ ‘beyond the watchful eyes of the north.’”The gnome bounced up and ran over to that wall.  “Damn, too heavy,” she said, examining one of the masks.  “I wonder if we could scrape some of the gold off though...”“Mole,” Zenna said. “Yes, yes,” she replied, searching the wall behind the masks.  “Hello, what have were here...”She pressed something, and a small part of the wall folded out, revealing a hidden compartment beyond.  She reached in and drew out a long object shrouded in silk.  “Cool!” she said, drawing back the covering to reveal a thick quarterstaff, fashioned from a wood so pale as to be almost white in coloration.  She swung it through the air, and it almost seemed to thrum eagerly in her hand. “Give it to Morgan,” Zenna said.  “He needs a decent weapon.”The cleric shook his head, and swallowed.  “It is a gift of the gods...” he said.  “A holy weapon, I cannot...”With impatience written on her face, Zenna walked over to Mole, took the staff, and thrust it into Morgan’s hands.  “We don’t have time for this foolishness,” she said.  “We have a man to find.”  Over Mole’s protests, they quickly gathered what they could of the remaining treasure, shared out the healing potions, and turned to leave.  Two pairs of eyes, one gnomish, one dwarvish, lingered on the wealth remaining behind, but soon the room was empty once more, the smooth door sliding shut behind the departing adventurers.They returned to the large outer room and chose the other exit, which led to a virtually identical corridor, ending in another door.  The door swished open to reveal another small chamber.  The room’s dominant feature was set into the opposite wall, a giant pentagram set into the wall.  The interior of the pentagram was a glistening wall, almost as if a pool of water were somehow being kept within in defiance of gravity.  Shadows flickered in that surface that might have been a distorted reflection, or might have been distinct images of something deep beyond. Facing the pentagram was a large chair, an angular construction of white stone.  The chair was situated in the midst of a circular carving in the floor, within which there were evenly spaced designs, a set of five small pentagrams that were each laid in a different colored tile.  Seated in the chair was a man, his back to them, his head tilted as if in rest—or dead, perhaps.  Mole, faced with a situation almost guaranteed to prod her curiosity, was the first into the room, giving the carving in the floor a wide berth as she circled the room to get a look at the seated figure.  The others were more cautious, but they followed her, with Morgan, Arun, and Hodge moving to the right, and Zenna and Dannel following Mole around to the left.  The seated figure was clad in the familiar raiment of a knight of Helm.  Morgan confirmed their suspicion, speaking his name. “Alek Tercival.”The man stirred at the sound of his name, lifting his head, looking as though he’d just come out of a deep sleep.  “Yes,” he said, and it was as if the word had been drawn from a deep place within him.  “Brother,” Morgan said, his voice thick, “We have come far to find you.”The paladin smiled.  “Your timing is precipitous, friend.  For a great evil is descending upon the land, and the time fast approaches when the forces of Light and those of the Dark will be tested one against the other.”Zenna felt a twinge of uncertainty as the man spoke, a vague sense of unease.  Using Dannel’s body to shield her movements, she cast a minor cantrip, focusing upon the man seated in the chair.  “How did you get here?  What about the hags?” Dannel asked. The paladin smiled, a sad, deep smile.  “They ensnared with their fell magic, friend.  In my pride I sought to defeat their evil alone... but they were too strong for me, and I fell into their power.  But now you have come to save me, and together we can confront the evil that stirs in Cauldron...”“Aye,” Arun said.  “It’s past time we left this place behind.”“What is this?” Mole said, looking up at the great pentagram.“It is called the Starry Mirror,” Alek replied.  “It is a gateway between worlds, created by a civilization now long-lost to legend.”Zenna leaned forward over Dannel’s shoulder, so that her lips were close to his ear.  “There’s illusion magic at work here,” she whispered. The elf nodded.  Turning to the seated man, he spoke.  “A great many people have been very worried about you, Sir Tercival.  Above all, your close friend, the current High Priestess of the Temple of Helm in Cauldron.  Surely you recall her name?”The others looked at Dannel in surprise, but Zenna kept her eyes on the seated paladin.  The man laughed.  “Very well then,” he said, rising from the chair to stand before them. Mole had been keeping an eye on the Starry Mirror, so she detected the shimmering as the mirror’s surface distended and something passed through into the room behind them. “Something’s coming through!” she yelled in warning, even as the form of Alek Tercival fell off of the man before them like water flowing from an upended pitcher.  What remained was a thin, amorphous figure of a man, his body a smooth, reflective surface that shone like quicksilver.  He lifted a sword that looked like a single great shard of reflective glass, and their combined looks of horror were reflected in that plane as he lifted it over his head in a promise of blood to be shed.</blockquote>

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