Found
“Wow,” said a slack jawed Traps. “Almost leaves nothing to loot.”
As Traps bent down and started sorting through the pile that remained of Solom, Arden and Tark steadied the weary Drexel.
“That was amazing,” said Tark. “What incredible power you pos…”
The cleric paused as if in pain. As he looked to his companions, he saw that, they too, were feeling the effects of a spell. Above them, Solom Ned’razak’s face creased into an evil smile.
“Yes…the moisture being rung from your bodies can be painful,” he laughed. Then, with a swift gesture and the murmur of delicate words, the drow turned Drexel to glass.
“Lousy luck,” muttered Tark. “Who would’ve guessed he had a clone?!”
The cleric began to pray, and as he did, Solom found himself suddenly immersed in silence. Before the Archmage harmed them any more, Tark’s Mass Heal spell had rejuvenated his companions.
Arden turned to Drexel and began to hum quietly. She had intended on breaking the enchantment that had turned the tiefling to glass, but her song was having no effect. Instead, she continued singing as she removed the Winged Mask from Drexel’s fragile form and passed it to Varr.
Smiling as though he were just given a keg of ale, Varr slipped the mask over his face and flew into the air. He raised Frostbite and chopped into the surprised Solom. The Archmage could see that Varr was trying to say something witty, but in the silence, the dwarf’s taunts went unheard.
Solom levitated higher until he was no longer within the effects of the silence spell, and his vicious smile returned as he fireballed the companions on the ground. Arden’s coughing and choking from the heat and smoke interrupted her song, but Traps managed to dodge the roaring fire entirely.
Tark began to pray again, which allowed Traps to fly.
“Go on and help Varr! Arden and I will take care of Drexel,” instructed Tark.
“Wooo! Lookame!! I’m flyin’!”
Traps soared into the air until he caught up with Varr and Solom. The halfling and dwarf now had the drow flanked.
“Here’s a cold blade to match you’re cold heart!” grumbled Varr as he hacked into the Archmage again.
As Frostbite sank into Solom’s chest, Traps sliced into his back with his dagger. A look of alarm and disgust appeared on the drow’s face, and blood stained his teeth.
“Killing me won’t bring your friends back…” he muttered, the blood dribbling from his chin.
Anger swelled in Varr. He let the rage take him, and before he knew it, Solom was a bloody pile for the second time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The party had retreated to the barracks to restore Drexel and catch their breath. Tark was at one side of the room praying over Drexel, while the others discussed the missing heroes.
“What could he have done with them?” asked Varr.
“These are drow we’re dealing with,” said Arden. “They could have enslaved them, or could be torturing them…time is of the essence here. These are not merciful beings.”
“Arden is right.”
The trio turned to see that Tark had successfully broken Solom’s enchantment.
“We must figure out what has happened,” said Drexel. “Rossal, do you know where Solom’s personal quarters are?”
“No,” replied the pseudodragon. “This is as far as we were able to get last time.”
“We have to search this tower,” said Drexel. “There has to be something…some sort of clue as to where he took them.”
“What’re we waiting for?” huffed Varr.
Drexel looked at the dwarf and raised an eyebrow.
“I think I’ll be taking that mask back now, thank you.”
“Eh? Of course,” said Varr with slight embarrassment. “Very useful, that mask.”
“Indeed,” smiled Drexel.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The group searched the rooms above them extensively. Besides finding books on Maerimydra, they found the occasional coins and various objects of small value, which usually excited Traps.
“Oooh…look at this incense burner. I’m gonna put this away for safe keeping.”
As the halfling reached for his pack, he noticed it was dripping something. On closer inspection, he found that the glass hand he had stuffed in his pack earlier in the day was no longer glass.
“Eeeewwww!!!” he shrieked dropping the bloodied pack.
“What in the world? Where did you get that?” scolded Arden.
“It was glass earlier, I swear!”
The halfling’s comment alarmed Rossal, who knew that Ziona had been turned to glass in their original battle with Solom.
“Let me see the hand,” Rossal nervously communicated.
He lowered himself down to the sack Traps had the hand in, and watched with worry as Traps emptied it.
“It’s a drow hand,” said Tark.
Rossal exhaled. “But it’s not Ziona’s.”
“Are you quite sure?” asked the cleric. “I may be able to help her if it is.”
“I’m positive,” said Rossal. “Ziona is a half-drow, and her skin is not as dark as her kin. But thank you all the same.”
The companions continued to search, and finally came upon a room that resembled a study.
“Look at this.”
The others gathered round as Drexel read the scroll he found.
“It’s a note of sale for The Unusual Heroes of Waterdeep.”
The Adventure Continues…
