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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Nathan P. Mahney" data-source="post: 3967833" data-attributes="member: 29748">CHAPTER IX TREASURE OF THE SHROUDED ONE PART I So you have returned, eh?  Is it more tales you seek?  I have them, more than you could hear in ten lifetimes. Yes, I know why you are here – it is the stories of Bastion you would hearken to, of the citadel in the sky and the band of adventurers that dwell there.  Never fear, for mine is not to ask the reasons why – I am a teller of tales, and so I will tell them when you ask, for there are few left who still seek my knowledge.  So sit, and be at ease, as I regale you with the quest for the treasure of the Shrouded One.Ah, but that is not exactly where the story begins is it?  Let me think.  When last you came, I told you of the discovery of Orcsplitter, legendary axe and bane of the orcish folk.  Bastion's leader, Corwyn, now had it in his possession, a fortunate thing with the army of orcs on the march toward them.  Corwyn and the axe had bonded well, united in their drive to slay the greenskins, and now they were mustering the people, crafting weapons and storing food.  Preparing for a bloody siege.But that was in the future, and not yet of importance to our so-called heroes.  Their minds were occupied with the loose ends in the caverns below Bastion, as well as a mysterious temple to the south.But who was there amongst this unstable band?  For their roster changes often, and many have their own agendas that prevent their constant aid in adventuring.  Gordred there was, fell ranger of the woods.  Also Jah the Cautious, roguish wielder of the glaive.  Elrohir was there also, mysterious in his arcane elven ways.  And lastly Qwan, bloodthirsty axeman.  Kael the dwarf had been with them on their last quest, but now he retired to his rooms in silence – deep were his troubles after being judged unworthy of Orcsplitter, and deep was the anguish that lurked behind his melancholy brow.Though their number was reduced to four, the adventurers were undeterred, and set forth into the darksome caverns below Bastion.  Silence reigned, and the carnage of recent battles in the caves seemed never to have been – bodies of drow and orc had been cleared away, and only a splash of blood here and there remained to tell the tale.  But in one cavern, where before they had battled a black-skinned drow priestess of Lolth, there still hung a tapestry with her symbol, an open hand with a dagger on the palm.  And behind that tapestry was a passage that spiralled down into the horrid depths below.In single file they ventured into the deep places, guided by the light of Elrohir's sunrod - a crystal shard of elven make, said to contain a portion of the essence of the Light himself.  The tunnel twisted and turned, ever downward, ever deeper.  For an hour they explored it, with oppressive stone weighing heavier over their heads with each step, until finally the silence was broken.  They heard the murmur of soft voices, a scream, and the delighted laughter of many.Jah advised a cautious approach, but still the party pressed on, perhaps buoyed by recent victories.  But as they neared the voices they forgot the sunrod shining forth from Elrohir's belt.  The voices ahead grew wary, then silent, and the party knew that the very thing they staked their lives upon in this dread darkness had given them away.  But ever undaunted, they went grimly onward, ever onward.  Say what you will of the moral standing of this band, but their courage and perseverance is without question!What they saw waiting in the huge cavern before them was the stuff of nightmares.  Row upon row of pale-skinned demon-elves, the drow of the underdark, nearly a hundred all told.  Many had tiny crossbows levelled at our heroes, tipped with wicked venom.  Between these drow, and on the walls to the side, and scurrying on the ceiling between the stalactites, were spiders of every size, evil and bulbous.  One drow stepped forth, skin and hair as white as death, as thin and deadly as an assassin's blade."Strangers, here in the realm of the drow," he said, speaking the Common tongue with fluency.  "Though there is one I recognise."And so there was – the ranger Gordred had been with the band that had encountered this drow some weeks ago, beneath the Sunless Citadel.  He remembered the drow elf's name – Azanoth."What brings you into our domain?" said Azanoth."We are merely exploring," said Jah.  "And did not know that you claimed these tunnels as your own.""Ah, what irony," said Azanoth.  "For weeks ago I was just exploring, and this ranger and his companions barred my path to the surface.  Now you do the same, and I am in your path with companions of my own.  And you have not answered my question, for every exploration has a purpose.""Orcs," said Jah.  "We are scouting the caverns below our settlement, to make certain that no more of them still lurk here.""You will find no orcs here," said Azanoth.  "We have seen to that most thoroughly, and therefore we have given you aid.  Perhaps, then, you can aid me.  By the order of my mistress, and almighty Lolth, we come to the surface in search of something.  A hand of glass, that pulses with an inner light.  Do you know of it?"Indeed, the party did know of it.  Gordred's old companions, many of them now deceased, had discovered the Hand in a vault in the Temple of the Light some miles to the southwest, hidden at the bottom of a great ravine.  Even now the Hand lay dormant in Elrohir's backpack, an object that the drow would readily kill for.  The party all glanced furtively towards the elf, and saw him trembling with a barely restrained fury – the ancient hatred between elf and drow, stoked by the fires of a long-forgotten yet still-remembered betrayal, was burning hot within him."Tell me again," said Azanoth, "what you know of this artifact?""Nothing but the legends," said Jah.  "The Darkness slew the Light in the War of Nightfall, and scattered his pieces to the corners of the world.  Some say they can still be found, hidden or guarded, and will convey a righteous power to those who find one of the pieces."The lie fell easily from Jah's tongue, and into Azanoth's ears with similar ease.  He had no inkling that the very thing he sought was but a few feet from his grasp."And what of your mistress?" Jah inquired.  "Can we not speak with her?""Alas, she is dead," said Azanoth with a smile.  "Slain in the tunnels above, maybe by orcs.  And maybe by others."  And in this Azanoth was more correct than he knew, for it was this very party that had visited death upon the drow elf priestess that had commanded this expedition."Then may we not leave?" said Jah.  "For we do not mean to intrude upon your realm any further, and know nothing more of that which you seek.""Do not be so hasty," said Azanoth.  "For no one leaves the realm of the drow without some form of payment."  And with that Azanoth gestured into the throng, summoning a drow in robes of flowing black.  He whispered unknown words into the wizard's ears, and then the wizard began to cast a spell, mouthing the arcane phrases and tracing runes of power in the air before him.And that was when Elrohir could hold back his hate no longer.  With the speed of the elves he nocked and loosed an arrow.  But the wizard was faster, and completed his spell first – a simple dweomer for the detection of magical auras, that caused the eldritch items carried by the party to glow faintly.  It availed him nought.  Elrohir's feathered shaft pierced the wizard's eye, leaving him a corpse twitching jerkily on the cavern floor."SIEZE THEM!" cried Azanoth.  "LET THEIR LIVING CORPSES ROT ETERNALLY IN THE BELLY OF LOLTH!"And so the party raced back through the tunnel, pursued by the demon-elves of the depths.  The drow elves matched them for speed, but the chase was long, and elves have never been renowned for their powers of stamina.  With sheer fortitude and rugged constitution the party outran their foes, and climbed the ladder back to Bastion amidst a meagre volley of crossbow bolts.The party returned to Bastion unscathed but weary.  They had seen what lurked in the caves, and knew them now to be lost, a gloomy spider-haunted place of pale and bloodthirsty elves.  A place now fallen to the darkness far below.TO BE CONTINUED...</blockquote>

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