National Acrobat
First Post
Great Story here. I can't wait for the next installment.
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The Unusual Heroes Enter The City of the Spider Queen!
- Thread starter Ziona
- Start date
Ziona
First Post
Horacio said:
Welcome back, Horacio! It's great to have our Story Hour Addict back on the boards. Hope that everything is okay and back to normal for you, and hope whatever Holiday you celebrate went well.
National Acrobat said:
Thanks! I will have some vacation time next week, so I'm hoping to get some writing done during that time. Xaltar put us through some pretty interesting challenges...can't wait to write them up!
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Ziona
First Post
From Out of the Darkness
Drexel reread the note of sale and shook his head.
“All it lists are their names and the price paid for each of them,” he said in frustration.
“Why would someone sell the heroes?” asked Traps angrily.
“It’s an evil game, laddie,” said Varr patting the halfling’s shoulder. “But, by Moradin’s beard, we’ll get them back!”
“Where do we start?” Arden wondered aloud. “I’ve heard of markets in the Underdark where trading and selling of slaves and goods occur, but we can’t just walk into one.”
“I think I know someone we can consult with,” said Drexel suddenly. “Perhaps Noristuor will have some information, or at least will know a way to locate them.”
“Noristuor?” asked Tark.
“He’s a friend, but he lives on the surface,” said Drexel.
“Return to the surface?” choked Varr.
“That takes time, friend,” said Tark. “And in that time, who can say what horrors could be unleashed upon your friends?”
“I won’t leave her again,” communicated Rossal. “I won’t leave until we find her.”
Drexel looked at the pseudodragon and nodded.
“Just me,” he said. “I can travel quickly enough. I’ll meet with Noristuor while you continue to search. One of us will come up with something.”
Tark clasped the tiefling on the shoulder and gave him a solemn smile. “May your travels not be haunted by the footsteps of the enemy. Lady Luck be with you my friend.”
Drexel looked again to Rossal before he departed. “We will find them.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As the companions made their way back through the tower, they searched in vain for any more information or clues that might have lead them to their friends. Once out of the tower, they found their way back onto the spider web and began climbing downward, toward the center. Eventually they came upon another opening in the rock wall and decided to enter it.
Slowly and quietly, (as quietly as they could with an armored dwarf), they traversed the hall. The corners were littered with shimmering webs and crawling with spiders that seemed to dance along on their eight hairy legs. Tired and sweaty from their climb, the companions wanted nothing more than to sit a moment, but they did not dare. That is of course, until Traps stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow. He looked around, thinking he heard something.
“Lox.”
“Try to keep up, my small friend, lest you be left behind,” called Tark to the halfling.
Traps glanced about a final time, then continued on. A moment later, he heard it again, echoing from behind him.
“Lox! Lox Lumley!”
He was sure he heard it this time…like someone hissing his brother’s name. Could it be that Lox and his captor were nearby? He turned and looked down the corridor behind him, but could see nothing. Shrugging, he turned back around and before he could say anything to his companions, a dark figure clasped his ebony hand over the halfling’s mouth.
“Do you not answer when called upon, halfling?!” hissed the drow.
Traps struggled and kicked the drow in the shins.
“I’ve never had much use for your kind, but I thought you would be smart enough to recognize an ally.”
By this time, Tark had realized that Traps was not following them. The alerted group backtracked until they came upon the halfling struggling in the clutches of a dark figure.
Arden knocked an arrow and called out. “Release the halfling!”
“Gladly,” said the drow walking forward. “You need not be hostile with me. I was merely trying to get the attention of your foolish friend.”
The drow gave Traps a nudge as he released his grasp on him, and the halfling stumbled forward.
“He knows where Lox is! I heard him talking to him and saying his name!” huffed Traps.
“Where is Lox?” demanded Arden.
The drow looked confused for a moment, then realized the halfling he had grabbed was not Lox Lumley, though the resemblance was uncanny.
“I see that I was mistaken about the halfling’s identity,” he said, holding up his hands. “I wish you no harm. My name is Belasco Banrae, and I was a traveling companion of Lox Lumley and Dent Masterson in days past.”
“And when did a drow like yourself travel with Dent and Lox?” questioned Varr. “I don’t recall hearing about you!”
“I remember,” said Traps. “Lox told me about you…you were in the maze at Lord Korvish’s keep!”
“Indeed,” said Belasco. “And if you are searching for Dent Masterson and Lox Lumley, then I believe I may have information that will be helpful to you.”
Arden lowered her bow and they approached Belasco cautiously.
“Well, let’s hear it, then!” snapped Varr.
“It’s been nearly a tenday that I saw the ranger Dent Masterson. He was being held at the bazaar not far from here,” explained Belasco.
“Did he look well?” asked Arden.
“Will he still be there?” asked Tark.
“He looked strange, as if his skin had turned the color of moss. Aside from that, he seemed well enough to my eyes,” said Belasco. “But he will not be at the bazaar now, for he was sold as a slave.”
“What about Lox?” asked Traps.
“I have not seen the halfling. I actually mistook you for Lox.”
“I’m Traps Lumley. Lox is my brother,” said the Traps holding out his hand.
Belasco did not shake the tiny hand. Instead he looked to the rest of the group. “I assume you are looking for the two?”
“We’re looking for five heroes, actually,” said Tark. “Have you seen or heard news of the others?”
“I have seen only Dent,” said Belasco. “And since he never seemed to separate from the halfling, I only assumed Traps was Lox.”
“How close is the bazaar that you spoke of?” asked Arden. “Perhaps we can find some information there?”
“It’s further along the corridor,” said Belasco. “I can lead you there, but you will have to appear to be my slaves.”
“Slaves?” huffed Varr. “I don’t think I like your idea, drow!”
“I know the ins and outs of this area,” said Belasco.
“And the ins and outs of getting us captured and sold as slaves!” grumbled Varr, spitting furiously.
“Calm yourselves,” said Tark stepping between the two. “Varr, we have established that Belasco was a companion to your friends. We must trust him if we are going to find them.”
“Aye…but if you give me but one reason to think you’re false,” warned Varr.
Belasco turned his green eyes away from the dwarf coolly. He had always been bothered by having to deal with the lesser races.
“To the bazaar,” he said as he lead the way.
The Adventure Continues…
Drexel reread the note of sale and shook his head.
“All it lists are their names and the price paid for each of them,” he said in frustration.
“Why would someone sell the heroes?” asked Traps angrily.
“It’s an evil game, laddie,” said Varr patting the halfling’s shoulder. “But, by Moradin’s beard, we’ll get them back!”
“Where do we start?” Arden wondered aloud. “I’ve heard of markets in the Underdark where trading and selling of slaves and goods occur, but we can’t just walk into one.”
“I think I know someone we can consult with,” said Drexel suddenly. “Perhaps Noristuor will have some information, or at least will know a way to locate them.”
“Noristuor?” asked Tark.
“He’s a friend, but he lives on the surface,” said Drexel.
“Return to the surface?” choked Varr.
“That takes time, friend,” said Tark. “And in that time, who can say what horrors could be unleashed upon your friends?”
“I won’t leave her again,” communicated Rossal. “I won’t leave until we find her.”
Drexel looked at the pseudodragon and nodded.
“Just me,” he said. “I can travel quickly enough. I’ll meet with Noristuor while you continue to search. One of us will come up with something.”
Tark clasped the tiefling on the shoulder and gave him a solemn smile. “May your travels not be haunted by the footsteps of the enemy. Lady Luck be with you my friend.”
Drexel looked again to Rossal before he departed. “We will find them.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As the companions made their way back through the tower, they searched in vain for any more information or clues that might have lead them to their friends. Once out of the tower, they found their way back onto the spider web and began climbing downward, toward the center. Eventually they came upon another opening in the rock wall and decided to enter it.
Slowly and quietly, (as quietly as they could with an armored dwarf), they traversed the hall. The corners were littered with shimmering webs and crawling with spiders that seemed to dance along on their eight hairy legs. Tired and sweaty from their climb, the companions wanted nothing more than to sit a moment, but they did not dare. That is of course, until Traps stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow. He looked around, thinking he heard something.
“Lox.”
“Try to keep up, my small friend, lest you be left behind,” called Tark to the halfling.
Traps glanced about a final time, then continued on. A moment later, he heard it again, echoing from behind him.
“Lox! Lox Lumley!”
He was sure he heard it this time…like someone hissing his brother’s name. Could it be that Lox and his captor were nearby? He turned and looked down the corridor behind him, but could see nothing. Shrugging, he turned back around and before he could say anything to his companions, a dark figure clasped his ebony hand over the halfling’s mouth.
“Do you not answer when called upon, halfling?!” hissed the drow.
Traps struggled and kicked the drow in the shins.
“I’ve never had much use for your kind, but I thought you would be smart enough to recognize an ally.”
By this time, Tark had realized that Traps was not following them. The alerted group backtracked until they came upon the halfling struggling in the clutches of a dark figure.
Arden knocked an arrow and called out. “Release the halfling!”
“Gladly,” said the drow walking forward. “You need not be hostile with me. I was merely trying to get the attention of your foolish friend.”
The drow gave Traps a nudge as he released his grasp on him, and the halfling stumbled forward.
“He knows where Lox is! I heard him talking to him and saying his name!” huffed Traps.
“Where is Lox?” demanded Arden.
The drow looked confused for a moment, then realized the halfling he had grabbed was not Lox Lumley, though the resemblance was uncanny.
“I see that I was mistaken about the halfling’s identity,” he said, holding up his hands. “I wish you no harm. My name is Belasco Banrae, and I was a traveling companion of Lox Lumley and Dent Masterson in days past.”
“And when did a drow like yourself travel with Dent and Lox?” questioned Varr. “I don’t recall hearing about you!”
“I remember,” said Traps. “Lox told me about you…you were in the maze at Lord Korvish’s keep!”
“Indeed,” said Belasco. “And if you are searching for Dent Masterson and Lox Lumley, then I believe I may have information that will be helpful to you.”
Arden lowered her bow and they approached Belasco cautiously.
“Well, let’s hear it, then!” snapped Varr.
“It’s been nearly a tenday that I saw the ranger Dent Masterson. He was being held at the bazaar not far from here,” explained Belasco.
“Did he look well?” asked Arden.
“Will he still be there?” asked Tark.
“He looked strange, as if his skin had turned the color of moss. Aside from that, he seemed well enough to my eyes,” said Belasco. “But he will not be at the bazaar now, for he was sold as a slave.”
“What about Lox?” asked Traps.
“I have not seen the halfling. I actually mistook you for Lox.”
“I’m Traps Lumley. Lox is my brother,” said the Traps holding out his hand.
Belasco did not shake the tiny hand. Instead he looked to the rest of the group. “I assume you are looking for the two?”
“We’re looking for five heroes, actually,” said Tark. “Have you seen or heard news of the others?”
“I have seen only Dent,” said Belasco. “And since he never seemed to separate from the halfling, I only assumed Traps was Lox.”
“How close is the bazaar that you spoke of?” asked Arden. “Perhaps we can find some information there?”
“It’s further along the corridor,” said Belasco. “I can lead you there, but you will have to appear to be my slaves.”
“Slaves?” huffed Varr. “I don’t think I like your idea, drow!”
“I know the ins and outs of this area,” said Belasco.
“And the ins and outs of getting us captured and sold as slaves!” grumbled Varr, spitting furiously.
“Calm yourselves,” said Tark stepping between the two. “Varr, we have established that Belasco was a companion to your friends. We must trust him if we are going to find them.”
“Aye…but if you give me but one reason to think you’re false,” warned Varr.
Belasco turned his green eyes away from the dwarf coolly. He had always been bothered by having to deal with the lesser races.
“To the bazaar,” he said as he lead the way.
The Adventure Continues…
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Ziona
First Post
Okay, so because I clicked "quote" instead of "edit," which resulted in a post I didn't want to make, I have decided to post a few of our pictures from the Christmas party we had on 12/21 at Belasco's house. (BTW, Belasco's player is the same player for Avangel, Drexel, and also posts as WeeJas...pick a name, would ya?) 
The first pic shows (from L to R) Doc Midnight, Xaltar, Belasco, Dent, and Justin playing Hero Clix.
The next pic was taken by Belasco while our little group was watching A Christmas Story. (Notice the I R.P.G. stickers on the coffee table?)
The last pic is Lox/Varr (also Dartan/Grumbar), who is proudly displaying his Gandalf bobble head that Xaltar & I got him for Christmas.
So there you have it. Next story installment coming soon.
The first pic shows (from L to R) Doc Midnight, Xaltar, Belasco, Dent, and Justin playing Hero Clix.
The next pic was taken by Belasco while our little group was watching A Christmas Story. (Notice the I R.P.G. stickers on the coffee table?)
The last pic is Lox/Varr (also Dartan/Grumbar), who is proudly displaying his Gandalf bobble head that Xaltar & I got him for Christmas.
So there you have it. Next story installment coming soon.
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Ziona
First Post
The Bazaar and Beyond
Before entering the bazaar of Szith Morcane, Belasco handed out Underdark traveling cloaks to each of the companions so that they would not attract any unwanted attention. They followed the corridor and a short time later came upon the bazaar.
The huge natural cavern held a small cluster of creatures who had congregated near the southwest wall. There were a few svirfneblin and several drow milling about. Traps gasped when he saw two large lizards, who were overloaded with packs, crates and goods. Three duergar stood beside the lizards and were apparently selling their wares. Their customers included a mind flayer, two drow, and a trio of kuo-toas. As Belasco lead the companions closer, they could hear the two drow arguing with the duergar merchants about a faulty item.
“What’s this? A family outing?” called one of the drow.
“Keep quiet and let me handle this,” whispered Belasco to the group. Then to the drow, “I have come seeking information on a slave that was sold here roughly a tenday ago.”
“Slaves come and go,” replied the drow.
“This slave belonged to my master,” bluffed Belasco. “It was a half-elven, half-human bastard from the surface world.”
“Ah, the green ranger,” scoffed the drow. “He fetched a fine price here in the bazaar, but I do not see how this is a concern of yours.”
“As I said, the ranger was a slave that belonged to my master,” Belasco said through gritted teeth. “I have been sent recover the slave by any means necessary. So how about telling me who purchased the bastard?”
“I can give you that information for a price,” said another drow.
Belasco removed a pouch from his pack and shook it slightly. The clink of coins could be heard like wind chimes on a breezy day on the surface. The drow stepped forward and reached for the pouch. Belasco tightened his grasp on the coins and smirked.
“Information first, payment later.”
“Very well,” frowned the drow. “The surface dweller was purchased by a noble who lives deep within the Wastelands.”
“His name?”
“Yazston Hune.”
Belasco released his grip on the pouch, which fell to the floor. The gold coins scattered slightly and sent the drow sprawling onto the ground to retrieve them. As Belasco lead the group away from the bazaar, they could still hear the duergar arguing with the drow about the broken item.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Belasco lead the way through the common drow areas of Szith Morcane. The corridors and caverns they traveled glowed eerily green. All about the floor and corners of the caverns grew odd fungus. Occasionally the companions saw cottages that had been made out of giant toadstools. Every once and awhile, dark figures could be seen passing by the windows, or wading through the fungus gardens.
“I don’t like it here,” whispered Traps. “I feel like we’re being watched.”
“Ye better be leading us right,” grumbled Varr.
“I am leading you back to the web, dwarf,” said an irritated Belasco. “From there we will be passing through House Morcane, unless I have to continue to suffer through your accusations. Then I will be leaving you to find your own way through the Underdark.”
“Ye wouldn’t be disappointen’ me!” snapped Varr.
“Both of you, hold your tongues!” said Arden. “You’ll attract the attention of the drow!”
The shadowy movements among the fungus and within the drow homes made the companions uneasy.
“Traps is right,” agreed Tark. “I feel as though we are being watched as well. It would be a most unlucky turn of events if we were ambushed.”
“The cavern leading to the web is only a short distance away,” replied Belasco coolly. “If we keep moving and do not stop along the way, we should be fine.”
With that, the drow stepped forward and did not look back to see if the companions were following. He was growing weary of the dwarf and halfling’s banter, and never understood why anyone would choose to travel among them.
They continued in silence until they exited the area and came upon the web. Here they climbed downward again until they found the last cavern along the wall.
“Here we enter House Morcane,” said Belasco. “I have heard rumors that the followers of Kiaransalee have taken over and destroyed most of the Lolthites. Be on your guard. Once we are through, we head for Maerimydra.”
The allies readied their weapons and continued to follow Belasco. He lead them through a hole that opened into a well-crafted room with smooth walls and floors. The far end of the room seemed to open into an octagonal shape, and had two passages that lead outward. Dangling from the ceiling was a ladder that resembled a spiders web. The shimmering strands lead to a narrow tunnel in the ceiling that formed another exit from the room.
As they approached the passage on the left, Varr and Belasco stopped suddenly.
“Should we not go this way?” asked Arden turning to the dwarf and drow.
“Something is preventing us from entering,” Belasco said.
“Something evil,” agreed Varr. “It feels rotten to the core!”
Tark closed his eyes and began to pray. As the words escaped his lips, Belasco and Varr found their way was no longer impeded, and they followed their companions along the corridor.
As they entered the next room, they found another spider-sewn ladder leading to a tunnel in the ceiling.
“We should climb the ladder and see where it takes us!” suggested Traps, who was already making his way along the spider web.
Luckily, Tark was there and plucked the halfling from the ladder and set him on the ground.
“Do not be so hasty, Traps,” he chided. “It seems we have business here first.”
In the corner of the room were two sets of manacles. One hung emptily along the wall, while the other held a female drow. She hung limply, her arms twisted awkwardly above her head.
“Is she dead?” asked Varr.
“Death would be too good for her,” mumbled Belasco.
Arden approached the drow woman, who managed to lift her head slightly.
“She lives,” said Arden.
“Now you know how it feels to be held and tortured!” spat Belasco.
Arden stood up, eyeing Belasco. “You know this woman?”
“I know her kind,” said Belasco.
Tark knelt before the drow woman and looked her over.
“She seems to be sickly,” he concluded. “Look at the wounds upon her neck.”
“Those wounds sting far less than the snake-headed whips she prefers to use on drow men!” barked Belasco with anger in his eyes.
“What has gotten into you?” asked Arden. “You say you do not know this woman, yet you take comfort in her torture. She may have information we need, and you wish her dead. Be rational, Belasco.”
Belasco shot Arden a foul look. “You may have some knowledge of the lives of the drow, surface elf, but you know nothing of the torture endured or the hell that is life in the Underdark.”
Tark, still kneeling beside the drow, healed her somewhat. The woman looked at him with parched lips and choked.
“Get her some water so that she may speak,” said Tark.
Arden took out her waterskin and dribbled some water into the woman’s mouth and waited to hear what she had to say.
“I am the last…they have destroyed us…”
Belasco turned his back and smirked.
“They beat me daily…they draw my blood…”
“Draw blood? For what purpose?” asked Tark.
“They’re evil,” chortled Varr. “Evil needs no purpose.”
“Traps,” called Arden. “open her manacles.”
At this Belasco turned back around, the smile leaving his face.
“What are you doing?”
“We cannot leave her here to die,” said Arden.
“Fool! She would see you dead!” barked Belasco.
“The manacles, Traps,” said Arden ignoring Belasco.
Traps went to work on the manacles, and Belasco’s blood began to boil.
“You are making a mistake,” he mumbled. “Mark my words…if you set her free she will sound the alarm and set every drow in Underdark upon us.”
Arden looked down at the drow woman, who seemed too frail and withered to pick herself up from the ground.
“Know this woman,” said Arden forcefully. “If you plot against us or alert others to our presence, you won’t have to worry about the followers of Kiaransalee, for we will hunt you down and destroy you ourselves.”
The drow looked up into Arden’s eyes. She held her tongue, but thought about the quick death she would “reward” them with for setting her free, if only she had the strength. Instead, she nodded weakly as Traps set her free.
“Leave this place and do not turn back,” said Tark.
Belasco turned to the woman, who was now leaning against the wall, rubbing her wrists.
“If we find you again, I will see you on the end of my blades, Lolthite,” he threatened in Undercommon.
The drow woman looked bitterly at Belasco, then stumbled off. As she fled, she smiled to herself. She may not have had the strength to rip the life from them, but her vampiric captors would surely bring death upon them.
The Adventure Continues…
Before entering the bazaar of Szith Morcane, Belasco handed out Underdark traveling cloaks to each of the companions so that they would not attract any unwanted attention. They followed the corridor and a short time later came upon the bazaar.
The huge natural cavern held a small cluster of creatures who had congregated near the southwest wall. There were a few svirfneblin and several drow milling about. Traps gasped when he saw two large lizards, who were overloaded with packs, crates and goods. Three duergar stood beside the lizards and were apparently selling their wares. Their customers included a mind flayer, two drow, and a trio of kuo-toas. As Belasco lead the companions closer, they could hear the two drow arguing with the duergar merchants about a faulty item.
“What’s this? A family outing?” called one of the drow.
“Keep quiet and let me handle this,” whispered Belasco to the group. Then to the drow, “I have come seeking information on a slave that was sold here roughly a tenday ago.”
“Slaves come and go,” replied the drow.
“This slave belonged to my master,” bluffed Belasco. “It was a half-elven, half-human bastard from the surface world.”
“Ah, the green ranger,” scoffed the drow. “He fetched a fine price here in the bazaar, but I do not see how this is a concern of yours.”
“As I said, the ranger was a slave that belonged to my master,” Belasco said through gritted teeth. “I have been sent recover the slave by any means necessary. So how about telling me who purchased the bastard?”
“I can give you that information for a price,” said another drow.
Belasco removed a pouch from his pack and shook it slightly. The clink of coins could be heard like wind chimes on a breezy day on the surface. The drow stepped forward and reached for the pouch. Belasco tightened his grasp on the coins and smirked.
“Information first, payment later.”
“Very well,” frowned the drow. “The surface dweller was purchased by a noble who lives deep within the Wastelands.”
“His name?”
“Yazston Hune.”
Belasco released his grip on the pouch, which fell to the floor. The gold coins scattered slightly and sent the drow sprawling onto the ground to retrieve them. As Belasco lead the group away from the bazaar, they could still hear the duergar arguing with the drow about the broken item.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Belasco lead the way through the common drow areas of Szith Morcane. The corridors and caverns they traveled glowed eerily green. All about the floor and corners of the caverns grew odd fungus. Occasionally the companions saw cottages that had been made out of giant toadstools. Every once and awhile, dark figures could be seen passing by the windows, or wading through the fungus gardens.
“I don’t like it here,” whispered Traps. “I feel like we’re being watched.”
“Ye better be leading us right,” grumbled Varr.
“I am leading you back to the web, dwarf,” said an irritated Belasco. “From there we will be passing through House Morcane, unless I have to continue to suffer through your accusations. Then I will be leaving you to find your own way through the Underdark.”
“Ye wouldn’t be disappointen’ me!” snapped Varr.
“Both of you, hold your tongues!” said Arden. “You’ll attract the attention of the drow!”
The shadowy movements among the fungus and within the drow homes made the companions uneasy.
“Traps is right,” agreed Tark. “I feel as though we are being watched as well. It would be a most unlucky turn of events if we were ambushed.”
“The cavern leading to the web is only a short distance away,” replied Belasco coolly. “If we keep moving and do not stop along the way, we should be fine.”
With that, the drow stepped forward and did not look back to see if the companions were following. He was growing weary of the dwarf and halfling’s banter, and never understood why anyone would choose to travel among them.
They continued in silence until they exited the area and came upon the web. Here they climbed downward again until they found the last cavern along the wall.
“Here we enter House Morcane,” said Belasco. “I have heard rumors that the followers of Kiaransalee have taken over and destroyed most of the Lolthites. Be on your guard. Once we are through, we head for Maerimydra.”
The allies readied their weapons and continued to follow Belasco. He lead them through a hole that opened into a well-crafted room with smooth walls and floors. The far end of the room seemed to open into an octagonal shape, and had two passages that lead outward. Dangling from the ceiling was a ladder that resembled a spiders web. The shimmering strands lead to a narrow tunnel in the ceiling that formed another exit from the room.
As they approached the passage on the left, Varr and Belasco stopped suddenly.
“Should we not go this way?” asked Arden turning to the dwarf and drow.
“Something is preventing us from entering,” Belasco said.
“Something evil,” agreed Varr. “It feels rotten to the core!”
Tark closed his eyes and began to pray. As the words escaped his lips, Belasco and Varr found their way was no longer impeded, and they followed their companions along the corridor.
As they entered the next room, they found another spider-sewn ladder leading to a tunnel in the ceiling.
“We should climb the ladder and see where it takes us!” suggested Traps, who was already making his way along the spider web.
Luckily, Tark was there and plucked the halfling from the ladder and set him on the ground.
“Do not be so hasty, Traps,” he chided. “It seems we have business here first.”
In the corner of the room were two sets of manacles. One hung emptily along the wall, while the other held a female drow. She hung limply, her arms twisted awkwardly above her head.
“Is she dead?” asked Varr.
“Death would be too good for her,” mumbled Belasco.
Arden approached the drow woman, who managed to lift her head slightly.
“She lives,” said Arden.
“Now you know how it feels to be held and tortured!” spat Belasco.
Arden stood up, eyeing Belasco. “You know this woman?”
“I know her kind,” said Belasco.
Tark knelt before the drow woman and looked her over.
“She seems to be sickly,” he concluded. “Look at the wounds upon her neck.”
“Those wounds sting far less than the snake-headed whips she prefers to use on drow men!” barked Belasco with anger in his eyes.
“What has gotten into you?” asked Arden. “You say you do not know this woman, yet you take comfort in her torture. She may have information we need, and you wish her dead. Be rational, Belasco.”
Belasco shot Arden a foul look. “You may have some knowledge of the lives of the drow, surface elf, but you know nothing of the torture endured or the hell that is life in the Underdark.”
Tark, still kneeling beside the drow, healed her somewhat. The woman looked at him with parched lips and choked.
“Get her some water so that she may speak,” said Tark.
Arden took out her waterskin and dribbled some water into the woman’s mouth and waited to hear what she had to say.
“I am the last…they have destroyed us…”
Belasco turned his back and smirked.
“They beat me daily…they draw my blood…”
“Draw blood? For what purpose?” asked Tark.
“They’re evil,” chortled Varr. “Evil needs no purpose.”
“Traps,” called Arden. “open her manacles.”
At this Belasco turned back around, the smile leaving his face.
“What are you doing?”
“We cannot leave her here to die,” said Arden.
“Fool! She would see you dead!” barked Belasco.
“The manacles, Traps,” said Arden ignoring Belasco.
Traps went to work on the manacles, and Belasco’s blood began to boil.
“You are making a mistake,” he mumbled. “Mark my words…if you set her free she will sound the alarm and set every drow in Underdark upon us.”
Arden looked down at the drow woman, who seemed too frail and withered to pick herself up from the ground.
“Know this woman,” said Arden forcefully. “If you plot against us or alert others to our presence, you won’t have to worry about the followers of Kiaransalee, for we will hunt you down and destroy you ourselves.”
The drow looked up into Arden’s eyes. She held her tongue, but thought about the quick death she would “reward” them with for setting her free, if only she had the strength. Instead, she nodded weakly as Traps set her free.
“Leave this place and do not turn back,” said Tark.
Belasco turned to the woman, who was now leaning against the wall, rubbing her wrists.
“If we find you again, I will see you on the end of my blades, Lolthite,” he threatened in Undercommon.
The drow woman looked bitterly at Belasco, then stumbled off. As she fled, she smiled to herself. She may not have had the strength to rip the life from them, but her vampiric captors would surely bring death upon them.
The Adventure Continues…
Last edited:
National Acrobat
First Post
Wow. That was cool. That's exactly how those drow women operate. Ain't it grand! (I play a half-drow Priestess/Disciple of Velsharoon in my group. She's more in tune with her drow side than her high elf side. Sounds like something she would say, actually...)
Ziona
First Post
The Temple of Kiaransalee
“I fear opening these coffins will hold dire consequences,” said Tark solemnly.
The group stood in the next room, looking upon three caskets.
“Hey, look! There’s another ladder in here,” said Traps. “I really think we should go up and check things out.”
Belasco rolled his eyes at having to hear the halfling’s voice again.
“Traps, we must secure this floor before we head off in another direction,” explained Arden. “Would you have us go up the ladder and be followed by drow?”
“Or worse,” said Tark. “I have a bad feeling about these coffins.”
“Let’s step back towards the other room,” said Arden. “I can jar open the lids without having to touch them, if you wish.”
The companions gathered in the corridor, and Arden took a harp off her pack.
“I don’t understand what yer doing,” said Varr.
“This is Methild’s Harp,” said Arden. “It is an enchanted instrument that sends forth magical vibrations, which should open the coffin lids without us being near.”
She took a deep breath, then delicately ran her fingers over the strings and began to sing. Her voice rang eerily through the corridor and into the room where the caskets lay. The party watched as the manacles along the walls unlocked and the door leading out of the room opened slightly. Then, as though someone were prying at them, the coffin lids were jostled aside. They did not open entirely, but had moved enough to awaken those that were resting inside.
As Arden finished her song, her companions watched as two drow vampires leapt from their coffins. The vampires, who had once been noble guards for House Morcane, were wielding scimitars and howled wildly as they sprang forth.
Instinctively, Varr ran forward, with Frostbite in hand, followed by Belasco and Tark. Arden fastened her harp onto her bag and readied her bow, while Traps still looked awestruck by the effects of Arden’s song.
As Varr approached, a third vampire jumped out of his coffin and swung his scimitar at the dwarf. But Varr had been aching for a good fight, and chopped into the undead drow until POOF! it reverted to it’s gaseous form.
Meanwhile, Tark clasped his Holy Symbol of Tymora and drove off the other two vampires. Arden, seeing the vampires trying to flee, fired two arrows into one of them, while Belasco laid waste to the other. While the heroes finished off their enemies, Traps edged toward his companions.
“Did you hear that? It was like a tapping…a tap, tap, tapping,” he said nervously.
“It was probably the thumping of your cowardly heart,” teased Belasco. “I didn’t see you joining the fray, little halfling.”
Traps ignored the drow’s comments and looked around, thinking he heard the scuttling noise again.
“Sounds like it’s coming from the ceiling, or the walls,” he said.
“I think I heard it that time, too, lad,” said Varr, gripping his axe tightly.
Tark finished destroying the wooden coffins, then paused as he heard the noise as well. The entire group was silent now, listening for the noise and looking for movement. They did not have to wait long, for a drider vampire dropped from it’s perch along the ceiling and into the center of the room.
“Who dares to enter The Temple of Kiaransalee?” it screeched in Undercommon.
Belasco began swinging at the drider with his longswords as Varr advanced on it. Then a second vampiric drider scuttled along the wall and into the room. Arden fired arrows at it, while Tark smashed into it with his mace. Not to be outdone, Traps ran into the fray and sliced into one of the drider’s fuzzy legs. The drider howled in pain, then reached out it’s clawed hands and dug into Tark’s flesh, eager to draw blood.
Belasco and Varr made quick work of the drider that was attacking them. Varr’s barbaric rage sent him into a frothing madness that chopped the drider to bits. Then, before the dwarf could be calmed, he kicked the door (which had already been ajar) off it’s hinges and ran raging into the hallway. Normally, what the dwarf saw would cause him to gag in disgust, but his rage spared him the thought. The corridor was full of quth-marens, drow that had had their skin flayed, and were now undead. No skin or fat was left upon their bodies. Only muscle and caustic blood remained. Their pupil-less eyes and claw-like hands reached for the dwarf, but he only roared and hacked into them one by one.
Belasco followed Varr into the corridor, and saw the quth-maren as well as a living drow who stood behind the undead. The unholy champion of Kiaransalee, the drow held a dire flail and wore black full-plate armor. His ebony face was mottled with pink scars, and he kept both ends of his flail whirling as he waited eagerly for his foes.
Varr and Belasco were joined by their companions just as a giant displacer beast with wriggling tentacles came to sit beside the drow warrior in black. As the wave of quth-maren thinned, the drow champion pointed at the group, and in Undercommon shouted, “Ripper! Attack!”
The displacer beast leapt toward the group. It’s glowing red eyes glittered in the darkness as it pounced upon Tark.
“Make the Featherdarrans pay for what they did to me!” shouted the drow while clutching his face.
Beside him appeared twin drow females, and behind them stood a ferocious drow woman. The woman snarled and spat as angry as a wild animal. Her gaze fell upon Varr, and he was so shaken and scared, he felt he could not act.
Meanwhile, the armored drow had moved forward. Not waiting for his attack, Belasco charged and met the warrior in the middle of the corridor. The two drow fought viciously, Belasco with his longswords, and the champion with his dire flail.
Next to Varr, Arden hummed a tune to break the spell that had enchanted him. Suddenly the dwarf came to life once more and charged toward the drow witch that had halted his steps. Behind him, Tark and Traps were attacking the displacer beast. With a dull thud, Tark’s lighted mace crushed the skull of Ripper, sending the beast to the floor with a splat.
The twin drow, who were still standing calmly at the far end of the corridor, began to move. They placed themselves between the charging dwarf and the ferocious drow woman who had enchanted him. Varr did not hesitate, and used Frostbite to draw blood on the first of the twins he could reach. As he did, he felt the bite of frost himself, and he realized that the wicked female had some sort of shield spell upon her. Shrugging off the effects, Varr continued to attack. The sisters seemed unaffected by the other’s pain, and almost seemed to revel in it. The twin that was not being attacked by the dwarf stepped back slightly and watched as her sister took the brunt of the axe.
Along the hallway, quth-maren still lumbered about. Arden dropped her bow and took out her longsword. She began slicing into the already-flayed drow with grace and dexterity. Joining her, now that the displacer beast had fallen, were Tark and Traps.
Not far from them stood Belasco and the armored drow champion. Try as he might, the champion found it most difficult to strike his foe, for Belasco wore a cloak that allowed him phase in and out, much like the displacer beast that the champion had.
Just as Varr was about to cut down the first of the twin drow women, the twin that had stepped aside began to shout in Undercommon.
“You shall perish sister, for you are weak!”
Then she began to cast into the fray. A few sharp words were uttered, then a mass of flames shot forth into the hall. Varr and the drow woman were engulfed, as well as many of the remaining quth-maren, while Belasco and Tark, (who were both caught within the flames reach), seemed unaffected. The drow twin who had cast smiled wickedly as her twin slumped to the floor in a blackened heap.
Having felt the heat of the flame himself, the champion tried to retreat. Belasco was not about to let his quarry live, however, and used his longswords to slice the life from Kiaransalee’s champion.
The companions were now regrouped and were taking down the last of the quth-maren with little effort. Tark clasped his Holy Symbol and prayed to Tymora, which sent a shining golden circlet to hover about his companions for a moment. The healing circle, which aided his friends, did just the opposite for the undead drow. The harm it did them managed to kill the rest of them off. All that were left now was the remaining twin and the crazed drow woman.
The woman bared her teeth and hissed at the party, showing off her vampiric fangs. Then, with a motion of her clawed hands and words that poured from her mouth like the hissing of a cat, a blade barrier sprang into existence between her and the party. She dissipated into a misty form and floated from the room.
The remaining twin smiled evilly at the thought that her sister was dead, and that she was now safe from the intruders. She turned to retreat to her room, when she heard an odd noise, like that of metal on metal. She turned her head just in time to see the angry dwarf charging through the barrier and headed straight for her with an axe! Varr used Frostbite to reunite the twin sisters in death.
Belasco, unaffected by the barrier, walked through with a wicked smirk upon his face. A few moments later, and Tark had dispelled the barrier altogether.
“We must find the last witch before she sounds any further alarms!” said Belasco.
“Lookee here,” said Traps. “I think it’s a letter, but I can’t tell.”
Arden took the note from the halfling, which was written in Elven, and read aloud:
Daughter,
Our Dark Lady favors my efforts, and my research proceeds well. Within five tendays, perhaps six, all will be ready for The Day of Great Vengeance. The Spider Queen is dead; we have already brought low the Spider-kissers and seized our rightful place in the realms of the dark. Now the Day draws near when we shall avenge ourselves upon those of the day-blasted lands, too, and achieve that ultimate triumph denied us so long ago.
While I prepare my Great Revenance, it falls to you to make ready the way. Harry the surface-dwellers, hunt them in their woods and fields, and take the measure of their strength. Do not concern yourself with putting them on their guard; our Lady desires their blood, their fear and their dreadful anticipation of our ultimate act of revenge. With each slaying we grow in her favor and sow the seeds of our coming victory.
If they come against you in Szith Morcane in irresistible strength, slay as many as you can. Withdraw from the fight if you must, and bring Zedarr with you, but as for the rest – they are to stand and die for the glory of the White Banshee. The battle for Szith Morcane will come to nothing when our Great Revenance comes to pass. If anything, our final vengeance is made ever sweeter by each fleeing, false hope our enemies entertain before it falls upon them.
Work great slaughter for our Lady’s dark glory, my daughter. Soon I will come to you from Maerimydra with such dark and terrible might that all Faerun will tremble before us.
Mother
“We can work on the letter later,” said Belasco urgently. “We must find the drow that escaped.”
With weapons at the ready, the group entered the next room, which appears to have been a bedroom. An altar had been made with a symbol of Kiaransalee adorning it. Traps, eager for some fun, hops onto the bed and begins jumping up and down.
“Yea! Like in my bed at Castle Xyzx!” he cheered.
Belasco gave the halfling such a dark look that the cheer died in his throat. Traps came to rest on the mattress, which had a large slice down the center. As the others began to leave the room, Traps reached his hand into the mattress and found gold coins and gems.
“Wow!” he gasped, his eyes bulging.
Tark looked back to see the halfling pulling the loot from the mattress and had to drag him out.
“Will you never learn, Traps? You must keep up!” scolded Tark.
As they caught up to the others in the next room, they saw a gaunt, dead drow woman sitting upon a throne, which was on a pedestal nearly fifteen feet high. The dusty, web-covered throne was made of bone, and the woman was draped casually across it.
“I’ll take care of this,” said Varr.
The dwarf took out his grappling hook and threw it to the top of the pedestal. The hook had planted itself on the corpse’s shoulder. Varr gave the rope a tug, but found that his hook was unmovable. Frustrated, he tugged again and again, but could not get his hook back.
“I can cast Spiderclimb, which would allow one of us to traverse the pedestal and see what’s up there,” said Arden.
“Ooh, I’ll do it!” said Traps with excitement.
“While yer up there, get my grappling hook!” requested Varr.
Arden cast the spell, and slowly, Traps climbed up the side of the platform. He looked over the corpse of the woman, and concluded that she must have been killed by a crossbow bolt. He climbed down with the disappointment of finding no booty. Varr was satisfied, however, that his grappling hook had been returned.
“Perhaps you can climb back up and retrieve her body, that I might inspect it,” said Tark.
“I don’t think I can carry her down…how ‘bout I toss her down?” asked Traps.
“You can’t do that,” said Arden appalled.
Tark, bothered by the elf’s righteous attitude, huffed. “You are a bard, and hardly understand the art of healing. Why don’t you just play your lute or something artsy?”
Arden’s face reddened. “Well, I would have thought a cleric would have better judgment when it came to defiling someone’s body!”
Belasco found the bickering somewhat amusing, but did not want to waste the time.
“There is no telling where the escaped drow has gotten to,” he said. “She could be sounding alarms or preparing spells.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” said Tark, ignoring Arden’s comment.
The cleric threw his own grappling hook up and gave it a tug. As he began to climb the rope, he felt suddenly dizzy and tumbled to the ground. He looked at the pedestal and realized it wasn’t really there.
“It’s an illusion,” he said.
“Illusion? You see!” exclaimed Belasco. “The wench has already tricked us. She’s buying time!”
“What do we do now? The only place to go is up,” said Varr.
“There must be something we’re missing,” said Arden. “But, perhaps her coffin is located on the upper level?”
“I don’t think so…” said Belasco with satisfaction. “There!”
The drow pointed toward a wall and began to push upon it.
“What are you doing?” asked Tark.
“It’s a hidden door,” said Belasco.
“I don’t see a thing,” said Tark. “It’s probably another illus…”
Before the cleric could finish his sentence, Belasco had the door open. In the center of the room stood a dais and a coffin.
“Allow me,” said Arden. She grabbed her harp again and began to play.
“I’ll be ready for her this time,” said Varr as he approached the coffin with Frostbite at the ready.
Again, the coffin lid popped and jostled slightly, but was not moved entirely.
“Maybe it’s empty,” said Traps with a shrug.
Varr used his axe to push the lid aside, and as he did, another blade barrier sprang into existence. The dwarf leapt away from the blades, but felt his helmet get sliced off his head in the process.
Belasco stepped forward without flinching, and reached into the coffin. With a wicked smile, he spoke to the vampire in Undercommon. “Nice spell, wench!”
Belasco lifted her from her coffin and was drenched with goo as her head was sliced off by the blades. Tark dispelled the blade barrier once again, saving Varr from any further injury.
“What do we do with her now?” asked Arden. “All the others turned to mist.”
“When in doubt, chop off the heads and burn them…you know, like trolls,” said Belasco.
The group took a moment to heal and discuss their next move.
“I say we climb one of those spider-ladders and see what’s up there,” said Traps.
“For once, I think we will go along with your suggestion,” said Belasco with a smirk.
The Adventure Continues…
“I fear opening these coffins will hold dire consequences,” said Tark solemnly.
The group stood in the next room, looking upon three caskets.
“Hey, look! There’s another ladder in here,” said Traps. “I really think we should go up and check things out.”
Belasco rolled his eyes at having to hear the halfling’s voice again.
“Traps, we must secure this floor before we head off in another direction,” explained Arden. “Would you have us go up the ladder and be followed by drow?”
“Or worse,” said Tark. “I have a bad feeling about these coffins.”
“Let’s step back towards the other room,” said Arden. “I can jar open the lids without having to touch them, if you wish.”
The companions gathered in the corridor, and Arden took a harp off her pack.
“I don’t understand what yer doing,” said Varr.
“This is Methild’s Harp,” said Arden. “It is an enchanted instrument that sends forth magical vibrations, which should open the coffin lids without us being near.”
She took a deep breath, then delicately ran her fingers over the strings and began to sing. Her voice rang eerily through the corridor and into the room where the caskets lay. The party watched as the manacles along the walls unlocked and the door leading out of the room opened slightly. Then, as though someone were prying at them, the coffin lids were jostled aside. They did not open entirely, but had moved enough to awaken those that were resting inside.
As Arden finished her song, her companions watched as two drow vampires leapt from their coffins. The vampires, who had once been noble guards for House Morcane, were wielding scimitars and howled wildly as they sprang forth.
Instinctively, Varr ran forward, with Frostbite in hand, followed by Belasco and Tark. Arden fastened her harp onto her bag and readied her bow, while Traps still looked awestruck by the effects of Arden’s song.
As Varr approached, a third vampire jumped out of his coffin and swung his scimitar at the dwarf. But Varr had been aching for a good fight, and chopped into the undead drow until POOF! it reverted to it’s gaseous form.
Meanwhile, Tark clasped his Holy Symbol of Tymora and drove off the other two vampires. Arden, seeing the vampires trying to flee, fired two arrows into one of them, while Belasco laid waste to the other. While the heroes finished off their enemies, Traps edged toward his companions.
“Did you hear that? It was like a tapping…a tap, tap, tapping,” he said nervously.
“It was probably the thumping of your cowardly heart,” teased Belasco. “I didn’t see you joining the fray, little halfling.”
Traps ignored the drow’s comments and looked around, thinking he heard the scuttling noise again.
“Sounds like it’s coming from the ceiling, or the walls,” he said.
“I think I heard it that time, too, lad,” said Varr, gripping his axe tightly.
Tark finished destroying the wooden coffins, then paused as he heard the noise as well. The entire group was silent now, listening for the noise and looking for movement. They did not have to wait long, for a drider vampire dropped from it’s perch along the ceiling and into the center of the room.
“Who dares to enter The Temple of Kiaransalee?” it screeched in Undercommon.
Belasco began swinging at the drider with his longswords as Varr advanced on it. Then a second vampiric drider scuttled along the wall and into the room. Arden fired arrows at it, while Tark smashed into it with his mace. Not to be outdone, Traps ran into the fray and sliced into one of the drider’s fuzzy legs. The drider howled in pain, then reached out it’s clawed hands and dug into Tark’s flesh, eager to draw blood.
Belasco and Varr made quick work of the drider that was attacking them. Varr’s barbaric rage sent him into a frothing madness that chopped the drider to bits. Then, before the dwarf could be calmed, he kicked the door (which had already been ajar) off it’s hinges and ran raging into the hallway. Normally, what the dwarf saw would cause him to gag in disgust, but his rage spared him the thought. The corridor was full of quth-marens, drow that had had their skin flayed, and were now undead. No skin or fat was left upon their bodies. Only muscle and caustic blood remained. Their pupil-less eyes and claw-like hands reached for the dwarf, but he only roared and hacked into them one by one.
Belasco followed Varr into the corridor, and saw the quth-maren as well as a living drow who stood behind the undead. The unholy champion of Kiaransalee, the drow held a dire flail and wore black full-plate armor. His ebony face was mottled with pink scars, and he kept both ends of his flail whirling as he waited eagerly for his foes.
Varr and Belasco were joined by their companions just as a giant displacer beast with wriggling tentacles came to sit beside the drow warrior in black. As the wave of quth-maren thinned, the drow champion pointed at the group, and in Undercommon shouted, “Ripper! Attack!”
The displacer beast leapt toward the group. It’s glowing red eyes glittered in the darkness as it pounced upon Tark.
“Make the Featherdarrans pay for what they did to me!” shouted the drow while clutching his face.
Beside him appeared twin drow females, and behind them stood a ferocious drow woman. The woman snarled and spat as angry as a wild animal. Her gaze fell upon Varr, and he was so shaken and scared, he felt he could not act.
Meanwhile, the armored drow had moved forward. Not waiting for his attack, Belasco charged and met the warrior in the middle of the corridor. The two drow fought viciously, Belasco with his longswords, and the champion with his dire flail.
Next to Varr, Arden hummed a tune to break the spell that had enchanted him. Suddenly the dwarf came to life once more and charged toward the drow witch that had halted his steps. Behind him, Tark and Traps were attacking the displacer beast. With a dull thud, Tark’s lighted mace crushed the skull of Ripper, sending the beast to the floor with a splat.
The twin drow, who were still standing calmly at the far end of the corridor, began to move. They placed themselves between the charging dwarf and the ferocious drow woman who had enchanted him. Varr did not hesitate, and used Frostbite to draw blood on the first of the twins he could reach. As he did, he felt the bite of frost himself, and he realized that the wicked female had some sort of shield spell upon her. Shrugging off the effects, Varr continued to attack. The sisters seemed unaffected by the other’s pain, and almost seemed to revel in it. The twin that was not being attacked by the dwarf stepped back slightly and watched as her sister took the brunt of the axe.
Along the hallway, quth-maren still lumbered about. Arden dropped her bow and took out her longsword. She began slicing into the already-flayed drow with grace and dexterity. Joining her, now that the displacer beast had fallen, were Tark and Traps.
Not far from them stood Belasco and the armored drow champion. Try as he might, the champion found it most difficult to strike his foe, for Belasco wore a cloak that allowed him phase in and out, much like the displacer beast that the champion had.
Just as Varr was about to cut down the first of the twin drow women, the twin that had stepped aside began to shout in Undercommon.
“You shall perish sister, for you are weak!”
Then she began to cast into the fray. A few sharp words were uttered, then a mass of flames shot forth into the hall. Varr and the drow woman were engulfed, as well as many of the remaining quth-maren, while Belasco and Tark, (who were both caught within the flames reach), seemed unaffected. The drow twin who had cast smiled wickedly as her twin slumped to the floor in a blackened heap.
Having felt the heat of the flame himself, the champion tried to retreat. Belasco was not about to let his quarry live, however, and used his longswords to slice the life from Kiaransalee’s champion.
The companions were now regrouped and were taking down the last of the quth-maren with little effort. Tark clasped his Holy Symbol and prayed to Tymora, which sent a shining golden circlet to hover about his companions for a moment. The healing circle, which aided his friends, did just the opposite for the undead drow. The harm it did them managed to kill the rest of them off. All that were left now was the remaining twin and the crazed drow woman.
The woman bared her teeth and hissed at the party, showing off her vampiric fangs. Then, with a motion of her clawed hands and words that poured from her mouth like the hissing of a cat, a blade barrier sprang into existence between her and the party. She dissipated into a misty form and floated from the room.
The remaining twin smiled evilly at the thought that her sister was dead, and that she was now safe from the intruders. She turned to retreat to her room, when she heard an odd noise, like that of metal on metal. She turned her head just in time to see the angry dwarf charging through the barrier and headed straight for her with an axe! Varr used Frostbite to reunite the twin sisters in death.
Belasco, unaffected by the barrier, walked through with a wicked smirk upon his face. A few moments later, and Tark had dispelled the barrier altogether.
“We must find the last witch before she sounds any further alarms!” said Belasco.
“Lookee here,” said Traps. “I think it’s a letter, but I can’t tell.”
Arden took the note from the halfling, which was written in Elven, and read aloud:
Daughter,
Our Dark Lady favors my efforts, and my research proceeds well. Within five tendays, perhaps six, all will be ready for The Day of Great Vengeance. The Spider Queen is dead; we have already brought low the Spider-kissers and seized our rightful place in the realms of the dark. Now the Day draws near when we shall avenge ourselves upon those of the day-blasted lands, too, and achieve that ultimate triumph denied us so long ago.
While I prepare my Great Revenance, it falls to you to make ready the way. Harry the surface-dwellers, hunt them in their woods and fields, and take the measure of their strength. Do not concern yourself with putting them on their guard; our Lady desires their blood, their fear and their dreadful anticipation of our ultimate act of revenge. With each slaying we grow in her favor and sow the seeds of our coming victory.
If they come against you in Szith Morcane in irresistible strength, slay as many as you can. Withdraw from the fight if you must, and bring Zedarr with you, but as for the rest – they are to stand and die for the glory of the White Banshee. The battle for Szith Morcane will come to nothing when our Great Revenance comes to pass. If anything, our final vengeance is made ever sweeter by each fleeing, false hope our enemies entertain before it falls upon them.
Work great slaughter for our Lady’s dark glory, my daughter. Soon I will come to you from Maerimydra with such dark and terrible might that all Faerun will tremble before us.
Mother
“We can work on the letter later,” said Belasco urgently. “We must find the drow that escaped.”
With weapons at the ready, the group entered the next room, which appears to have been a bedroom. An altar had been made with a symbol of Kiaransalee adorning it. Traps, eager for some fun, hops onto the bed and begins jumping up and down.
“Yea! Like in my bed at Castle Xyzx!” he cheered.
Belasco gave the halfling such a dark look that the cheer died in his throat. Traps came to rest on the mattress, which had a large slice down the center. As the others began to leave the room, Traps reached his hand into the mattress and found gold coins and gems.
“Wow!” he gasped, his eyes bulging.
Tark looked back to see the halfling pulling the loot from the mattress and had to drag him out.
“Will you never learn, Traps? You must keep up!” scolded Tark.
As they caught up to the others in the next room, they saw a gaunt, dead drow woman sitting upon a throne, which was on a pedestal nearly fifteen feet high. The dusty, web-covered throne was made of bone, and the woman was draped casually across it.
“I’ll take care of this,” said Varr.
The dwarf took out his grappling hook and threw it to the top of the pedestal. The hook had planted itself on the corpse’s shoulder. Varr gave the rope a tug, but found that his hook was unmovable. Frustrated, he tugged again and again, but could not get his hook back.
“I can cast Spiderclimb, which would allow one of us to traverse the pedestal and see what’s up there,” said Arden.
“Ooh, I’ll do it!” said Traps with excitement.
“While yer up there, get my grappling hook!” requested Varr.
Arden cast the spell, and slowly, Traps climbed up the side of the platform. He looked over the corpse of the woman, and concluded that she must have been killed by a crossbow bolt. He climbed down with the disappointment of finding no booty. Varr was satisfied, however, that his grappling hook had been returned.
“Perhaps you can climb back up and retrieve her body, that I might inspect it,” said Tark.
“I don’t think I can carry her down…how ‘bout I toss her down?” asked Traps.
“You can’t do that,” said Arden appalled.
Tark, bothered by the elf’s righteous attitude, huffed. “You are a bard, and hardly understand the art of healing. Why don’t you just play your lute or something artsy?”
Arden’s face reddened. “Well, I would have thought a cleric would have better judgment when it came to defiling someone’s body!”
Belasco found the bickering somewhat amusing, but did not want to waste the time.
“There is no telling where the escaped drow has gotten to,” he said. “She could be sounding alarms or preparing spells.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” said Tark, ignoring Arden’s comment.
The cleric threw his own grappling hook up and gave it a tug. As he began to climb the rope, he felt suddenly dizzy and tumbled to the ground. He looked at the pedestal and realized it wasn’t really there.
“It’s an illusion,” he said.
“Illusion? You see!” exclaimed Belasco. “The wench has already tricked us. She’s buying time!”
“What do we do now? The only place to go is up,” said Varr.
“There must be something we’re missing,” said Arden. “But, perhaps her coffin is located on the upper level?”
“I don’t think so…” said Belasco with satisfaction. “There!”
The drow pointed toward a wall and began to push upon it.
“What are you doing?” asked Tark.
“It’s a hidden door,” said Belasco.
“I don’t see a thing,” said Tark. “It’s probably another illus…”
Before the cleric could finish his sentence, Belasco had the door open. In the center of the room stood a dais and a coffin.
“Allow me,” said Arden. She grabbed her harp again and began to play.
“I’ll be ready for her this time,” said Varr as he approached the coffin with Frostbite at the ready.
Again, the coffin lid popped and jostled slightly, but was not moved entirely.
“Maybe it’s empty,” said Traps with a shrug.
Varr used his axe to push the lid aside, and as he did, another blade barrier sprang into existence. The dwarf leapt away from the blades, but felt his helmet get sliced off his head in the process.
Belasco stepped forward without flinching, and reached into the coffin. With a wicked smile, he spoke to the vampire in Undercommon. “Nice spell, wench!”
Belasco lifted her from her coffin and was drenched with goo as her head was sliced off by the blades. Tark dispelled the blade barrier once again, saving Varr from any further injury.
“What do we do with her now?” asked Arden. “All the others turned to mist.”
“When in doubt, chop off the heads and burn them…you know, like trolls,” said Belasco.
The group took a moment to heal and discuss their next move.
“I say we climb one of those spider-ladders and see what’s up there,” said Traps.
“For once, I think we will go along with your suggestion,” said Belasco with a smirk.
The Adventure Continues…
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