Sekrr’s Lair
The heroes traveled for days after their encounter with the kir-lanan and Glouroth. They found only darkness and fitful rest as they journeyed, and were almost joyous when they came upon a cavern and a stream. The water flowed into the cavern, making it nearly impossible to enter without jumping into the stream and making noise.
“Looks as though it would reach the dwarf’s chin,” said Belasco.
Ziona clasped her holy symbol and prayed quietly. As she did, the water began to lower until it was barely the depth of a puddle.
“Now that’s more like it,” smirked Varr and he clanked into the waterway.
“I don’t think that was wise,” said Belasco with annoyance. “You don’t think someone will notice their stream all but vanished?”
Ziona climbed down into the path that the water had been traveling and said, “It lasts only a short while. I suggest you follow along…unless you
want to wade through three feet of flowing water.”
The rest of the group climbed down and walked along the new pathway, which lead to a large room that was full of fungus. Upon entering, they interrupted two female drow who had been busy cultivating mushrooms.
“Surface raiders!” cried the first in Undercommon.
“They have come here, to the master’s domain? Fools,” growled the second.
The first pulled a small knife from her boot, while the second held her sharp-edged gardening tool before her.
“Hope you’re ready to meet your evil, drow goddess, wenches!” bellowed Belasco as he strode forward, swords in hand.
Belasco’s attacks were deadly, yet graceful. His skill with the blades were rivaled only by the legendary Drizzt, who had once traveled with the group for a brief time. As Ziona watched Belasco attack, she was reminded of the heroic drow that once helped her rescue her father. She noted the style and grace of Belasco’s attacks, but realized he was almost more vicious, and seemed more heartless than Drizzt had ever been. Even his size and stature were larger than most drow she had met.
In a moment’s time, Belasco had slaughtered the first drow woman, and was about to carve into the next one, when Varr advanced on her.
“She’s mine, pointy ear!”
Varr swung Frostbite, which connected with the drow’s stomach, causing her to drop her weapon in pain. As she clutched at her stomach and gasped a few last breaths, Varr brought his axe down again and finished the job he started.
“And
that’s how drow women are to be handled,” spat Belasco.
Ziona looked at him, thinking again about the bitterness he possessed. Surely his upbringing was comparable to Drizzt’s, yet their attitudes were so different.
“Do you have something to say, half-drow?” he grumbled, noticing her stare.
“Only that you remind me of someone we traveled with for a short time, though he was far better at controlling his anger at those who wronged him,” she replied.
“I’m sure he never faced the torture and atrocities that I have endured at the hands of drow women like yourself.”
“Actually, I’m sure that’s
exactly the treatment Drizzt Do’Urden received, Banrae,” she said coolly.
“Drizzt?” asked Belasco with a hint of surprise. “I didn’t know he had traveled among…”
“Now is not the time,” interrupted Dent. “I think we have company!”
Dent had noticed the hole in the ceiling when the scuffle broke out, but only spied movement now. As he warned the group, a large beholder lowered from the hole and looked upon the heroes with it’s many eyes.
Several rays shot forth from the wriggling eyes of the beholder, but only one struck it’s target. Varr, who had been about to charge the monster, was suddenly moving very slowly. He felt lethargic as he pushed himself to move and attack.
“Not a beholder,” grumbled Ziona.
“Fear not, milady,” said Tark, who was not far from the half-drow.
He began to chant as he gripped the cold silver of his holy symbol. The words were the same as those that he had recited a several days ago, and they yielded the same result. Sekrr the beholder was suddenly engulfed in green, misty flames as the destruction spell obliterated him.
“Not so bad, now was he?” said Tark musingly.
“That’s because you haven’t been petrified by them several times,” sighed Ziona. “It’s very frustrating.”
“That is true,” said Tark. “It is the luck of my god that keeps me safe.”
“Do you think there are more?” asked Avangel.
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Belasco. “Haul me up there.”
Avangel flew Belasco to the top, then came down and helped the others into the upper cavern. Here they found countless statues of adventurers, most of which were broken in the most despicable places, guaranteeing that they would return maimed (or worse) if the petrifaction was ever dispelled.
“Look here,” called Dent. “I think this one is okay…well, as ‘okay’ as a petrified elf can be.”
The group gathered around the elven statue, which stood with a bow gripped in one hand while reaching back with the other to get an arrow from his quiver.
“Can we break the spell?” asked Dent.
“Allow me,” replied Tark, who cleared some room and began to pray.
The elf’s stony features began to soften and become alive with color as his flesh reverted back to it’s normal form. As he came to life, his look was one of confusion and anger.
“Who are you? What’s going on?”
“It’s okay,” said Dent. “One of our clerics has broken the enchantment that was placed on you by the beholder.”
The elf looked around the room, remembering what had happened.
“Where is it now?”
“Defeated,” said Tark proudly. “What is your name, friend?”
“I am Roedyn. I traveled here with a group, not unlike yourselves. Several perished…the others were badly injured when we arrived here, in Sekrr’s lair.”
“How long have you been here?” asked Ziona.
Roedyn looked at her, realizing she was part drow.
“I’m not sure,” he replied hesitantly.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I am not a drow of the Underdark. I am part drow, and was raised on the surface.”
“Some of us did not have such luxuries,” blurted Belasco.
“You travel among the drow?” asked Roedyn of Dent.
“Trust me, they are worthy companions. Even if they bicker like children from time to time.”
The heroes introduced themselves, and after talking with Roedyn for a short while, came to realize it had been nearly a decade that he had spent as a statue, unmoving in the Underdark.
“Ziona,” called Rossal. “Come quickly!”
She found the pseudodragon hovering beside a decapitated statue, with a small head in his hands. He held the petrified head forward for all to see.
“Ziona, it’s Gnettles!!”
The Adventure Continues…