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Message: <blockquote data-quote="(contact)" data-source="post: 959936" data-attributes="member: 41">Thus it endeth.  Here is a repost of section 73:-----73—Old enemies have new friends, and old friends have none.“Alvodar?” Taran says.  “That name is familiar.”“It must be a coincidence,” Thelbar says.  “We knew of an Alvodar who took the name Cursebreaker, but he was not from this world, nor from this lifetime.  His name was given to us in conjunction with another abandoned dwarven Delve.”“Really?” Ashnern asks.  “Kor’En Eamor is a portal to many worlds.  Alvodar was the last king of this place, but his appellation was false, I’m sad to say.”“Wait a minute,” Taran says.  “Are you telling me that this is the same damned delve?”“I am not telling you anything,” Ashnern begins, taking a sagely breath and raising one finger into the air.  “Rather . . .”“Our dragon!” Taran interrupts the gnome.  “Dragon?  What dragon?” Gorquen asks.“The adventurers that I was advising faced several dragons within the Delve,” Ashnern says.  “There was a nest of frost wyrms, an entire family.  They were under the care of a giant mystic.  I recall it well, though I never saw them.”Gorquen looks at Taran.  “What dragon?” she asks.“While you and Indy were helping the druid,” Taran says.  “We let a dragon slip through our fingers.”“Did you just say ‘Indy’?” Ashnern asks softly.“You remember the fight differently than I do brother,” Thelbar says.  “We were lucky to escape with our lives.”“But that dirt worm killed Rex!” Taran protests.  “We hate it, don’t we Thel?”Thelbar nods.  “We do.”“Oh, that dragon,” Gorquen says.Ashnern lights a candle, and leads the group into a large library.  “I have many artifacts and rubbings taken from the Delve.  I have translated them, and compiled them onto scrolls, for ease of reference.  The ancient dwarves kept no tomes, preferring to record anything of importance onto stone.  But Alvodar kept books—a product of his association with humans and elves, I believe.  One in particular you may find illuminating.  I did not recognize your names at first, but now I do.  Here we are,” he says, carefully opening an thick leather-bound book.The gnome clears his throat and reads aloud.  “The humans Taran and Thelbar defeated Axultur, Scourge of Greshk and Father of a Thousand Burning Nights—and that is where our Lord Alvodar tasted death for a second and final time, praise his name with stone and steel.” Ashnern looks at the stunned adventurers.  “It continues as you might expect . . . his body brought back to the mines by friends, his life story recorded, the usual state burial.  They entomb him with this very book.”  Ashnern flips forward through the pages.   “Here his eyes open, and he resumes the narrative himself.  He writes, ‘She is alive, alive beyond death.  The name that Moradin kept from my ears, I have seen her.  Indy swore she died in her struggles, but now she has brought me to her.  I must silence the call.  I must confront her and give her peace.’”  Ashnern looks at his audience.  “Merkatha found this book—it was in the tomb of Alvodar Cursebreaker, Last King of Kor’En Eamor.”“Alvodar was from our world!” Gorquen says.  “An outsider like us!  And he knew you.”“And that bastard dragon is in there,” Taran says.-----Thelbar and Gorquen remain with the gnome to look over his scholarly notes, while Taran and Elgin Trezler seek out the sole remaining witness to the Great Delve—a drow woman by the name of Merkatha.  They find her sitting alone with her feet on a table in Storm’s Rise’s only inn.  She is lithe and haggard, her elven features made ugly by the heavy scarring that mars her face and neck.  Several knife handles protrude from her plain clothing and the tops of her filthy boots.  She stares at the two adventurers balefully as they enter.“Whatever you’re after, you don’t want it.  Go away,” she says in greeting.Taran removes his swords, and sets them on the table in front of her as he seats himself.  “We are here on the authority of Cormyr, and we’re here to investigate the Great Delve.”“Well, I didn’t think you were here for the scenery,” she snarls.“Please, Merkatha, tell us what you know,” Elgin says soothingly as he sits down.“How many months you got?” she says.“All of them,” Taran says.“I’ve seen a half-score of adventurers like you lost in that Delve.  And they all went in bright-eyed and bushy tailed.  They died screaming, or they didn’t see it coming.  But they’re all dead now,”  she puts her feet on the ground.  “So f--k off.”“We are all hardened adventurers, Merkatha,” Elgin says.Taran leans toward her.  “He’s right.  You know, I walk around bunched up like a spring all the time.  In a place like the Delve, I kill everything I see, and I get to be free.  Along the way, I do some good for some people, and I get rich.  Whatever’s in that Delve, it oughta be worried about me.”The drow snorts.  “I’m touched.”Elgin smiles at her.  “Please, Merkatha, tell us what you know about the Delve.  We are seasoned adventurers, not amateurs new to our weapons and prayer books.”“That’s what everybody says,” Merkatha growls.“Oh yeah?” Taran reaches out and unsheathes Arunshee’s Kiss.  The keen sword is so sharp that it whines as he passes it through the air.  “Is this everybody’s sword?”Merkatha watches him with disdain.  “That is a fine weapon.  Do you mean to torture me with it?”Taran laughs.  “I don’t torture people, sister.  I kick a$s, and I walk point in the baddest adventuring group you’ve never heard of.”“Do you know traps?”“Only the hard way,” Taran smiles.  “I don’t do traps.  I make the bad people wish they weren’t, and I do it with style.”“You won’t last a single day walking point in the Delve, human.  You should read Fernal’s journal.  I watched him die.”“It seems the suffering of others is the only thing that loosens your tongue,” Elgin scolds.  “You are forthcoming with dire predictions, yet you will not give aid to those who seek the Good.”“There’s a whole other world out there, Merkatha,” Taran says.  “Puppies, sunrises and falling in love in springtime.”“I don’t believe in such a world.”“You are not wise,” Elgin says.  “A wise man would be afraid of that Delve,” she replies.Taran snorts.  “A wise Delve would be afraid of us.”“Say that to Ceredain when she takes you.”  Merkatha stares at Taran.“I will.”“You won’t have the breath.”“I will.”“You won’t.”“Really,” Elgin says, exasperated.  “What can we do to assure your aid?”Merkatha stares at Taran for a moment, then turns to Elgin.  “Can you raise the dead?”“I can,” Elgin says.  “But the soul must embrace the pasoun.”Merkatha rolls her eyes.  “Of course they must agree with you.  You are faithful, after all.  Myself, I used to worship Kiransalee.”Taran cocks his head, and places his hands on the table.  “That’s what they call a bad answer, Merkatha.”“But, the bitch never came through,” she says.  “So now I worship Shelvaras.”Taran laughs, relaxing.  “That’s an even worse answer.  Gods be good, but you’re dumb as a stone.  Shlevaras hates only one thing more than he hates us, and that’s the drow.”Merkatha shrugs.“Your friend,” Elgin says.  “Where is his body?”“Mixed up with fur and firewine in a pile of gnoll sh-t, I imagine,” Merkatha says.  “He died in the delve.”-----Over the next two days, Thelbar pores over the research provided by Ashnern the sage.  Merkatha finally relents, and agrees to accompany the party into the Delve, provided they do what they can to recover and raise the bodies of  her fallen friends.  Taran emerges from his room one sunny morning, and proudly shows Gorquen the drow sign that Merkatha has been teaching him.  There’s more than 10, he signs.  Run for your life and Every man for himself.  “Isn’t it great?” Taran asks.  “Merkatha says I’ve got the basics.”Merkatha also produces the journal of “Fearless” ‘Fernal, an adventuring companion of hers that kept a day-to-day account of his experiences within Kor’En Eamor.  The bloodstained and heavily gnawed-upon journal proves light reading, and within a day, all four members of the adventuring party have read through it at least once.-----“That Dragon Caller,” Taran says.  “He had several dragons under his control, and you killed all but the big one, right?”  Taran and Merkatha stand on a balcony outside of Ashnern’s study.  Taran paces, but Merkatha leans on the stone rail overlooking the outer pavillion.  Inside, Thelbar and Ashnern are discussing the translation of the Dwarven writings discovered within the Great Delve.“That’s right,” Merkatha says.  “The big one came after us, and the priest summoned a Celestial to deal with it.  In exchange, we were to get rid of Lord Ilthais, which we did.”“But you didn’t see it die.”“I saw an angel swear to kill it, isn’t that enough?”“Let’s hope not,” Taran grins.  “That bastard dragon owes me blood.”Merkatha pauses for a moment, and spits into the air over the rail.  “Didn’t say whose blood, dumb f--k.  You know, your accent is familiar.  I couldn’t place it at first, because you’ve always got something big to say about yourself, and you never talk smart.  But I met somebody who sounds just like you and your owl-eyed brother.  T’sdeal, her name was.  We found her where the gnolls got ‘Fernal, and she said she came in a portal from her world.  Maybe you should go have you a look, and then you can shut the f--k up.”  And with that, Merkatha leaps over the edge, and disappears into the night.</blockquote>

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