Wraith's Whispers - CoSQ (Update: 4/5/04)

[Wraithdrit]

Plickit waited till the drow finally seemed to settle down. The smoke was starting to clear and any moment he would be visible to the elves’ keen senses. He quietly slipped the cork off the bottle again and the smoke thickened again.

The drow were quick to react. The officer that had remained started barking orders. Plickit did not wait to hear them. He launched himself from the wall, took several bounding steps then launched himself up through the hole. Bolts skittered off stone around him as the drow reacted to the noise.

The thri-kreen never stopped. His quick, able strides picked his way down the long natural corridor that lead toward the surface. He did not slow down till he found the rest of the group stopped outside the small hill that held the entrance to the crypts.

Mytrym nodded as Plickit stepped out of the doorway, “Somehow I knew you would make it out.” The paladin seemed actually pleased to see the ranger. In fact, having lost one companion already, the entire group seemed a little relieved to see the ranger. Even Delorian, who had remained cool to the thri-kreen seemed a little relieved to see him. The monk may not really like traveling with a member of race of creatures that his people were currently trying to enslave or destroy, but that did not mean he did not recognize the ranger’s usefulness to the group. Happiest to see Plickit was his desert dog. The animal leapt up and licked the ranger on the side of one mandible.

Plickit petted his companion then pushed the dog off and to the ground, “Good boy. Tck.” He looked to the others and nodded.

The group gathered their various packs and weapons, their short rest over. Without saying much they turned toward the north. The five-hour trek toward Dagger Falls was made in a sort of hushed uncomfortable silence that none of them enjoyed. Outside of town Plickit stopped and began making himself a camp, and Naria sat down to join him.

Mytrym looked confused, “You aren’t coming into town?”

The wizard looked at him, “I have no more illusions prepared to hide myself. I would be killed on sight.”

Looking between the two, Plickit pulled off a ring from one hand. Tossing it into Naria’s lap he nodded. “Wear that-tck. You can be what-tck you want-tck.”

The entire group stared at Plickit a moment. Naria nodded, “Thank you. I’ll return it as soon as we return.” Knowing the lending of a magic trinket was no big deal, the thri-kreen pulled out a small bundle of bloody cloth and whistled for his dog. The group quickly turned to walk away.

Amador shook his head as they walked on toward town, “Maybe if he just cooked it first…” He shuddered at the thought of what the thri-kreen was eating in his camp. Worse was the way the dog had seemed so eager to join the insect warrior for the meal.
The group soon stood before the gates. Amador tried unsuccessfully to get the gate guard to open up. It wasn’t until Mytrym exerted his forceful will that the gates were finally opened. The group quickly retired for the night, and went the next morning to see Randal Morn.

At hearing the news of Tanerus’ demise, and the loss of the gem, Morn seemed a bit discouraged. “What is your plan now?”

Amador shrugged, “We replace the halfling’s skills with someone else and go back to finish what we started.” Amador spoke coldly of replacing Tanerus, not using his name so he could distance himself from the pain of the loss of the last of his original companions that had gone with him to Tethyamar.

Mytrym nodded, “Do you know of anyone that could help?”

Morn shook his head, “I’ll ask around among my scouts, but I don’t know of any that would want to join a trip to the Underdark. That’s something I cannot order someone to do. Oh, your friend Will was in town last night. You might want to see if he knows anyone.”

Amador seemed to brighten, “Yes!”

Delorian looked to the others, “Will is here? Perhaps he would join us. We could use the aid. We are far outnumbered, more magical support will certainly help our chances.”

Amador looked back to Morn, “Can you help us get some more supplies?”

Morn looked a little a loss, “I wish I could, but I called in all the favors I had and used as much money as I could to get you the diamonds to bring back the thri-kreen. Sorry.”

The group nodded and soon took their leave. They split up, with Amador going to the Temple of Tyr to get as many scrolls and potions as he could afford. Mytrym and Delorian went to an alchemist shop and procured a few other potions. They all met back up and headed to Will’s home.

The wizard answered the door, half dressed. He let the group in after a few moments. Serin was relaxing in one corner of Will’s bed, dressed, but obviously only recently so. Will look concerned, “Where is Tanerus…?”

After explaining Will sat down on the edge of his bed and shook his head, “This is not good. Not good at all. Things get worse. I have reason to believe that after Serin and I left Tethyamar yesterday, it fell to invaders.”

The entire group was shocked, Mytrym was the first to voice the obvious, “What?! What happened?”

Will frowned, “We tried to teleport back. The spell was blocked.”

Naria broke in, “Blocked? But that means someone has cast a dimensional anchor over the area.”

Will nodded and helped finish the line of thinking. “Something none of the dwarves would know or allow. I can only assume that someone has taken exception to our presence there.” He glanced at Delorian but did not voice the thought that accompanied the look.

Amador sighed, “We have to go back.”

Will shook his head, “Not yet. Lets take care of this drow outpost first.” He stood and walked over to his backpack. He pulled forth his crossbow and traveling clothes from the magical bag. “We will need someone who can take Tanerus’ place.”

Mytrym nodded, “We were hoping you might know someone.”

Will turned and smirked at the aasimar. “I do. We will need to go talk to Morn.”

A few minutes later they stood looking at Morn as the Lord of Daggerdale yelled, “What!? You have to be kidding me! You want me to release your cousin? You know as well as I that he was rightfully convicted and sentenced. No. I can’t do that.”

Will countered, “What if he pays full restitution? Allow him to accompany us and I’m sure we can use his share of the treasure to pay back his victims.”

“And when the Calahans see him walking free before that? What kind of trouble do you think that is going to start? No way. You need to find another way.”

“There is no one else. You know as well as I that without the church’s divinations Marcus would have never been caught. He is good at what he does, and we need him. I’ll get him out of the city without being recognized.” Will smiled as he leaned forward, “What’s worse? Letting a convicted felon out of prison, or the continued drow raids?”

Morn groaned and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. As he shoved one arm into it he glared over at the group, “I’m going to regret this. I know I am.”

When Marcus was brought of his cell into the cellblock in the entrance to the town dungeons, he looked like he had not shaved or bathed in well over a year. Mainly because it was true. His beard and hair were long and scraggly. He walked a bit stiffly, but his step was surer with each stride. When he saw Morn he shook his head, “No, I won’t tell you where it is, go sod off!” He started to turn around, but the jailer shoved him forward.

Morn shook his head, “Actually Marcus, I’m here to let you go?”

That got the thief’s attention, “Eh? Why would you do that?”

Morn stepped aside to allow the small group of heroes, led by Marcus’ cousin, into the room. Will nodded, “Hello Marcus.”

Marcus grinned, “Will!” He strode up and clapped one shoulder of the mage. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” He looked to the others then to Morn. “So you need me then eh? Heh. How the tables do turn, eh Morn?”

Morn frowned but held his tongue for the moment. He turned and looked at Will, “Clean him up, and get him out of my town.” He looked back at Marcus, “Your group fails in this, you go back in the dungeon. If you don’t come back with them, I’ll place a price on your head so large…”

Marcus shook his head, “No you won’t… you won’t have to. We won’t fail, and I’ll be with them.” He blinked then looked at Will, “What are we not failing at?”

Will smiled, “I’ll tell you on the road.”

Morn nodded, “Remember, no one sees him. No one.”

Will nodded, “No problem.”

An hour later, the two walked out into the light of day. Marcus winced and put up an arm, frowning at the bright light. He blinked a few times then muttered to Will, “I have one stop to make.”

Will frowned and shook his head, “No. We told Morn we would see no one. We got you cleaned up, but even your beard will not keep some people from recognizing you. Lets go.”

Marcus grinned. “Will, I spent the last two years in that cell because I would not give up what I had. I’m not about to leave town without. Stop me if you must.” He turned and started to walk away.

Sighing, Will jogged to catch up. “Fine, but we make it quick.” Will knew he would probably regret this, but he needed Marcus.

 

[iwatt]

Damn. You are going to have to rename the heroes of Tehyamar into something else. Only the cleric left. They alays are the hardest to kill

Someone jinxed the group (I think it was Will, in one of his POVs) when he said "I can't believe none of us has fallen yet" or something like that.

 

[Wraithdrit]

Ah but now they have Will back! So there are once again, two originals.

And I wrote that 'jinx' in as foreshadowing, because I knew that two characters died in the next log or two. I'm crafty that way. Heh.

 

[Wraithdrit]

Underdark
Marpenoth 5th, 1372, Late Evening

The group settled into the small hidden smuggler’s cove that they had originally fought the Lolth worshipping drow. From there they knew they could launch attacks on the outpost. Hopefully the illusionary walls that had hid the Lolth worshippers from the followers of Kiaransalee would also hide them. Besides, they only needed about 10 hours and they would be in the outpost, laying waste to whatever they could find.

Will appeared through the third illusionary wall, carrying a torch. He walked over and set the torch into a small holder they had set up against one wall. He turned to the others, smiling.

Mytrym looked up from wiping a cloth along the blade of his sword. Naria looked up from where she was sitting behind him. She had a large cloth spread on the ground and had various strange alchemical devices bubbling, boiling, and steaming.

Delorian was sitting cross-legged against one wall. His eyes opened, his meditation interrupted by the wizard’s inevitable news.

Amador sat on a large crate, his quiver in his lap. He was checking an arrow to make sure the shaft was straight an undamaged. He lowered the arrow and looked to Will.

Plickit was crouched to another side of the natural cavern. His companion was curled beneath the ranger, enjoying the petting of two of the thri-kreen’s four arms. Plickit looked up and cocked his head to one side.

Marcus was stretched out; feet crossed and propped up on his small pack. His fingers where laced together across his chest and his head was propped on his rolled up cloak. He turned his head just a little to be able to hear what Will had to say.

The mage paused to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “It took two castings, but I think you will like what I saw.” He dropped down and grabbed out a few rolls of parchment from his pack. Grabbing out a charcoal stick he began scribbling maps. Small circles started marked the locations of sentries. Filled in circles marked the location of more of the undead drow. ‘S’s marked the spot where spellguards were located. ‘X’s marked the single officer he could detect. As he drew, he explained each location.

Mytrym leaned forward, regarding the maps. “So we have two sentries between here and the ledge and four sentries, a skinned one, and an officer on the ledge. Sounds do able. Especially with the plan…”

Will nodded, “I have a few simple modifications to the plan so we make sure that no one below is alerted by the top sentries…” Will explained the plan, nodding to each participant. Discussion followed, and finally the plan was finished. “Now lets get some rest, we’ve got a hell of a fight ahead of us and I don’t want to lose anyone in there.”

An hour later, Delorian quietly pulled a shadow over his ‘sleeping’ form. He reappeared two rooms away, slipping from the shadows. He reached down to unclasp the bracer at his wrist. He ran his fingers over the tattoo revealed there. It had been a few days since he had heard from his lord. The last time he had seen him, he had been arguing with High Prince’s right hand man, the Chamberlain Hadrhune. He hoped and prayed that Clariburnus was well. The High Prince’s wrath was legendary. Delorian did not even want to consider the ramifications if Clariburnus were gone. So far his messages had seemed to be going through, but he had yet to get any word back.

He pressed hard on the tattoo, and the magic within it flashed to life. The tattoo glowed with a purplish light that reflected off the monk’s features as he began his report. “My prince…”

Naria whispered softly to Mytrym. The two were tucked away in a corner. “I don’t like this Mytrym. Our way is to bring them into the light, not slaughter them.”

Mytrym nodded, “I know what our mistress bids us do Naria, but these are not just misguided followers. Someone is doing something very bad, or planning to, I can feel it to my bones. I have to do what I can to stop them. If that means I have to cut a swathe through our people to get at its dark heart, then so be it.”

Naria chewed on her lower lip. “I know but…” She trailed off and turned away, pulling her cloak over her more fully.

When she did not continue Mytrym patted her shoulder gently and whispered, “I know Naria… its not an easy path we follow, I don’t pretend to like what it is I must do. But I must do it, for the sake of all those that are unable to join the light because of what the dark one is doing. Plus, I can not help but feel that if we don’t do this, something even worse will befall our people.” He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

Amador sat quietly, his reverie having overcome his senses long ago. He was reliving the times when he and his best friend had first set up the grove to Corellon. It was that friend that had worn the circlet. The same grove was where he had found his friend dead. It was there that his quest into the Underdark had started. He relived those better moments, when his friend was still alive. All to remind him of what he was fighting for, and why he risked his life in these dark and deadly caverns.

Plickit sat crouched in the middle of the room. The maps that Will had drawn were spread out before him. The ranger was memorizing every nook and cranny the maps depicted. He memorized the location of each sentry, of each door that more drow might be able to come from, of each area where he would chose to set up ambushes, knowing that would be where the drow would most likely set one. He knew elves, even these dark skinned ones. He knew their strengths, their weaknesses. He knew how to track them, how to hunt them, and especially how to kill them. He looked forward to putting those skills to use.

Will slept quietly in one corner. He had fallen asleep while studying. The book, his book, the book that had been the reason he first started out of Dagger Falls, was open beneath him. He had fallen forward, arms crossed, head down. He slept quietly atop the ancient scripts describing the best uses for the purest of elements- fire. He dreamt of the coming conflict.

In his dream he was once again seeing through his arcane eye spell. But this time he watched as his friends fought. He watched as he himself cast spell after spell at the ever-present enemy. In his dreams he knew that the drow he fought were the same ones that had burned his family home. They had made the ultimate mistake in targeting him. They had made it personal. With the power of the book at his fingertips, he would make sure it was a mistake they would not live long enough to regret.

Marcus lifted his head and looked around at his new companions. It was an interesting group. He was glad to be out of his cell, but at what cost? He just hoped that these people were as competent as his cousin made them out to be. He had been impressed with Will. He seemed a lot older, and a lot stronger willed, than he had ever seen him.

The only thing he worried about was the dark look that crossed his cousin’s features at the talk of killing the drow. Marcus had learned long ago not to make his work personal. When you made it personal you could lose sight of the goal, be that a great heist or something like this. Attacking a drow outpost. What kind of insanity had he really signed up for? Oh well, he reminded himself, it was better than sitting in a cell.

 

[Wraithdrit]

Szith Morcane
Marpenoth 5th, 1372, Late Evening

Te’tria was fuming mad. She was stuck on the ledge overlooking the chasm, waiting for a team to return from the surface. A team she should have led. She drew blood on the traitorous Shade, it was her right to lead the hunting party after them. She had been the one to report the intrusion. She had been the one who had repelled the pitiful surface dweller’s assault. Sure they held the ledge for a couple of hours and had slain the webspinner, but she was glad to see the thing gone, they did not really have any need for the largest symbol of the spider goddess for leagues!

She remembered back to when she had reported the assault to Dorina. She had strode in, her head high. Her place in the outpost’s military would be assured by her victory. “M’lady. We have repelled surface dwellers who attacked the chasm!” She spoke breathlessly, excited at giving the report to her mistress.

Dorina had looked up from what she had been doing. Te’tria had to look away from Dorina’s ‘subject’; the amount of blood was almost enough to turn her stomach. Her mistress almost looked bored, “And?”

“I would like to form a team to go after them, ma’am.”

“No.” Dorina turned back to what she was doing. The form lying before her twitched and the drow mistress chuckled gently.

Te’tria was lost in her anger at being refused, and did not notice what her mistress’ victim was going through. “What? Its my right! I-“

Dorina spun faster than Te’tria thought possible. Her hand latched onto the officer’s throat and Dorina shoved her back against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. “You question me?” Fire blazed behind her pale eyes as she growled, “Impudent wench.” Her fingers squeezed and Te’tria’s breathing started to come in rasps.

A male voice came from the back of the room. “Don’t kill her sister, we need her alive.”

Dorina glanced back, ignoring the clawing of Te’tria’s hands on her fingers and wrist. “Zedarr…” She looked over her brother, his black plate armor, glistened in the light of the faerie fire that lit the room. The scar tissue of his entire right half of his face also caught the light. “You take all the fun out of things.” She released the officer, who fell to her knees coughing and wheezing. “Do take care of her, and see to it this problem does not continue. I’m busy…” She went back to her victim as Zedarr strode over to stare down at Te’tria.

“Get up.” Te’tria quickly found her feet, knowing that if she did not obey his orders, the consequence could be profound. She hated following the orders of a male, but this one was as dangerous as his sister, if not more so, and as long as they ruled Szith Morcane, she was theirs to command. “Tell me of these surface dwellers.” He turned to walk away, motioning for Te’tria to walk with him and explain what she had learned.

Eventually they ended up outside of the chamber, and Zedarr stopped to listen to the entire story. Finally he nodded and began giving her orders. “Sounds like someone got lost, or lucky. It won’t happen again. Repost sentries at the forward post and on the ledge. Join the ledge patrol, I’ll have Valnura relieve you when your shift is over.”

“Yes, m’lord. But should someone not go after them? I would be happy to lead a raiding party to the surface…” She let her voice trail off as she realized that Zedarr had begun frowning.

“No, captain. Your place is with your troops on the ledge. In case these surface fools try to return. Understood.”

Resigned, the drow officer nodded, “Yes, sir.” She turned and walked away. Zedarr watched her go, considering these latest developments. He walked down the hall to a door. He stopped there and knocked loudly. After a few moments, Velina, his niece, came to the door. She looked so much like her mother; the resemblance was uncanny, right down to the vestments of Kiaransalee.

She narrowed her eyes at her uncle and questioned him, “What is it?”

“The outpost was attacked by surface dwellers. I have a task for you…”

 

[Wraithdrit]

Smuggler’s Cove
Underdark
Marpenoth 6th, 1372, Early morning

Will leaned back from the maps and looked around. “Everyone got it?”

The group nodded, everyone looked at each other with a mix of grim determination and mild excitement.

“Perhaps I can help a little.” The voice was deep and otherworldly, instantly recognizable by Delorian. Without looking, the monk dropped to one knee as he spun around. The others spun as well, most found weapons in their hands before they even really knew what was going on.

“My lord.” Delorian spoke softly, knowing the prince’s hearing was, like his, superior to human hearing.

Standing against one wall, his arms cross, his cloak flapping in some unfelt breeze, was Clariburnus. He stepped from the wall and tossed Delorian a belt wrapped around an amulet. “A monk’s belt, and an Amulet of Might Fists. I will need the bracers and your old amulet back.” Delorian stripped the bracers and amulet off and handed them to his prince. The magic tattoo glowed faintly on his forearm, revealed without the bracer to hide it.

Clariburnus turned to the others, regarding Will mainly. Will was watching the shade, a look of distrust in his eyes. “Your return will benefit the group greatly Will. Welcome back. I’ll cast a few enchantments upon your group to help with your trip.” He began with a pair of stoneskin enchantments on Delorian and Mytrym. “When you are all ready to depart I will turn you invisible, that way you can save the rest of Naria’s invisibilities for later.” He not only knew her name, but he knew their plan. How long had he been there?

The prince looked between the few members of the group and pulled out a pair of rings. “These will allow someone who can not see in the dark to see as if it were daylight.” He handed them over. Will gave one to Amador and the other to Marcus.

The prince looked at Will and frowned, “What of you?”

Will shrugged and smiled, “Its something I learned to do a while ago. Part of my training in the ways of the element of fire.”

Clariburnus grinned, “An elemental savant. How interesting.” He held out a bag next. Will took it and opened it to see twelve small potions. “Moderate curing, so you can save Amador’s spells for their proper uses.” He went into another round of casting, and soon Mytrym, Plickit, Marcus, and Delorian were hasted and Plickit and Marcus could see invisible things. Another spell and the entire group felt invigorating, endurance coursing through their veins.

The prince looked around, “Good luck. You are about face, the most difficult challenge your group has ever faced. May whatever god you worship favor you this day.” With that he cast one last spell, causing the entire group to fade from sight.

Will’s voice came out first. “Alright, first things first. The silence spells…”

Sentry Post
Underdark, just above Szith Morcane
Marpenoth 6th, A few minutes later…

The drow sentry sniffed, and shifted his weight. He glanced over at his companion and shrugged gently. His companion frowned at the noise then turned to look back down the natural corridor. The surface dwellers could return at any time. He wanted to be ready for them.

Things got very quite and he turned to his companion to ask him if he heard, or rather, did not hear that. His eyes shot open with surprise when he saw that he was falling backwards. Nine small metallic wedges were embedded in his companion’s head, neck, and chest. He crumpled without a sound.

He tried to yell and spin on the attacker, but he was faced with the fast moving form of a shade dressed in monk garb. Before he could raise his hand crossbow a foot lashed out, breaking his arm at the elbow. A knee ripped up into his gut, and he spat blood onto the stone as he doubled over. Hands grabbed his head and it twisted at an impossible angle. He shuddered and died without a sound.

Mytrym watched the fight from behind the sentries. Seeing it was over he flew down the shaft and down the long corridor leading to the second shaft. A bright glyph flashed on the corridor wall beside him. He expected to see an explosion from the trap, but not hear it, due to the silenced dagger he was carrying. Instead there was nothing. Interesting.

He flew further and a symbol flashed on the floor. This time he felt it. Pain went coursing through his body. He nearly flew face first into the wall, it caught him so off guard. It was not the pain of an attack, but a constant pain that coursed through him over and over. Gritting his teeth, he managed to get a point where he could move and think again, but constantly the pain distracted him. He turned back to the party.

Plickit saw the paladin jerk around and wave him off. He stopped and looked over to where the rest of the party should be. After attacking his invisibility was gone so he motioned the party to stop and pointed forward and shook his head a few times.

Will stopped and stepped back from the silence effects. He cast a quick detect magic and saw the massive bubble of energy coursing from a point down the corridor. He centered a dispel magic on the effect and it disappeared from his magical sight.

He tapped Plickit on the shoulder and he motioned for the group to keep going.

On the ledge below Te’tria paced and shook her head gently. One of the sentries cried out in surprise and she looked up to see him pointing at a massive granite wall that now stood between them and the chasm. She yelled out, “To arms!” just as a massive cone of freezing energy ripped through almost her entire team. A human mage was spider climbing along the edge of the shaft. He was good, to get both those spells off so quickly.

She of course did not see the rest of the group, including Amador, who had cast the wall of stone.

The shouts of battle mixed with shouts of surprise. New assailants appeared out of nothingness as they laid into her troops. Rapiers flashed, bolts flew, but the drow were outmatched, surprised and had nowhere to run. The battle was over before it even started, and not a single drow stood standing.

The heroes of Tethyamar tossed aside the various silence objects for a moment. Will nodded, pleased with how well things were going. “Alright. Perfectly done all. Here’s what we do next…”

 

[Wraithdrit]

The ‘Ledge Room’
Underdark, off the Szith Morcane chasm
Marpenoth 6th, Half an hour later…

Marcus examined the small metal coins in his hand. The strange elven script stamped on them was obviously some dark saying of the drow. But the metal it was stamped into was what interested him. Platinum. He tossed the coins onto the pile the others had created in the upper ledge room. The pile was fairly impressive. The carnage had been impressive. Now that the fighting had paused the realizations that they had managed to pull off the first stage of their attack started to permeate into Marcus’ thoughts.

They had moved quickly from the ledge down to the barracks opening. The sentries inside had no hope of survival. Delorian traveled through the shadow plane to the other side of the entry room. The silence object he carried had kept the explosion that rocked the room in front of him from reverberating through the rest of the barracks. Mytrym and Plicket’s silence objects kept the sound from the chasm. There was a little vibration in the stone, but not much. Will’s fireball had been bright, hot and deadly. The quick assault by the rest of the group had finished off what remained of the sentries and their undead cohort.

Marcus was not going to forget what happened next. Not for many, many years. Thievery was one thing, but what they had done…it was slaughter. Pure and simple slaughter. With the silence spells covering their sounds they had easily moved room to room. One room held a meditating mage. He never made it out of his bed. The group was on him so fast that he died without lifting a weapon.

The next room was a larder or dining room of sorts. It had been empty. The following room had several drow that were resting from guard duty. Mytrym had been the first in. Only one of the drow was ‘awake’. The rest were in something between a slumber and a meditation. Mytrym was on the one before anyone could do much to aid him. The silence spells were holding well, and the sleepers never heard the fight. As Marcus stepped in and looked at the sleeping forms, he realized what had to be done.

So did Mytrym, and he obviously did not like the idea. He looked around at the helpless opponents and closed his eyes. Muttering something covered by the silence spells, the paladin drew a knife and cut deep into his own hand. As he stalked out of the room he pressed the knife’s hilt into Marcus’ hand.

The work was quick, bloody, and horrible. Not even monsters deserved to die like that. Two had waken as the knife bit into flesh. They had no chance to fight back, and their silent screams would echo in Marcus’ eyes forever. It had to be done. These monsters were killing his own people. Dagger Falls should not have to pay the price, should his resolve to follow through fail.

When it was over he cleaned the blade and handed it back to Mytrym in the hallway. The paladin did not even look at the knife. It slid into its sheath, and they moved to the next room. Something had tipped off its occupant though. When Mytrym stepped through the door, a drow officer, suspended horizontally from magical slippers hooked to the wall above the door, had attacked him viciously with a twin bladed sword. If the paladin had not been the recipient of one of the Shade Prince’s stoneskins, the attack may have been more crippling than the spell that still made the paladin take every step pained.

The group had quickly rallied and the officer’s body was soon on the floor. Delorian was handed the slippers. Never know when a shadow stepping, wall climbing monk would be helpful. The other officer that shared quarters with this one had died up in the ledge room. Marcus already had her slippers on.

The last room had been empty. So they gathered together again and set the silence items to one side. Will had suggested they take time to gather their spoils quickly. That was when it happened.

The drow female that was traveling with them, Naria, was caught in the middle of a lie. She was obviously distraught at the death of the second officer. When Will questioned her, she lied and denied it. Upon searching the room, a letter was found. It was addressed to Naria. Mytrym read it first, and turned and handed it to her. He had said that she should read it first but made it clear to her that the others would read it next.

She handed the letter to Will and admitted that the dead officer was her cousin before walking off. Marcus had to wonder whether the drow female and the aasimar with drow blood would end up being an asset in this land or a hindrance. Time would tell, he was sure.

The letter made some things a little clearer. The spider queen is apparently silent to the drow for some reason. In her absence, a sect of the drow goddess of undeath had stepped in to power in the nearby drow city. The influence had spread to this outpost, and it was they that are responsible for the raids on Dagger Falls.

That would explain the carnage of the Lolth worshippers that Will’s arcane eye had seen in the temple complex near the bottom of the chasm. Will thought it also explained the undead drow that were helping the attackers. The ‘flayed’ ones are probably priestesses rendered useless by the silence of their goddess. It also explained why the original drow the group had encountered outside of Tethyamar two weeks prior had never cast a healing spell on her wounds.

Finally finished collecting the loot together the group moved to the ‘inverted tower’ that Will’s arcane eye had scryed earlier. There were a pair of guards, probably magic users, by what Will had learned in the attack on Dagger Falls a week prior. Marcus grew excited as they began to infiltrate in towards the archway leading to the tower, and the guardroom beyond.

Will put a hand out and stopped him. “Wait.” He cast a quick spell and narrowed his eyes on the doorway ahead. “A spell on that archway.” He turned towards Amador. “Can you dispel it?”

Amador nodded, “Of course.” He whispered a prayer to his deity and a soft shimmer surrounded the doorway.

Will frowned, “Still there.” He lifted his own hand and muttered a few syllables. The doorway once again shimmered, but the frown on Will’s face was obvious that the enchantment had withstood yet another dispel attempt.

Naria whispered from the back of the group, “I could try.” Everyone looked at her. They knew that her spell casting prowess was no where near Will’s. He had specifically studied multiple types of counterspells in his career, and was very adapt at countering spells on the battlefield. Naria was inexperienced in comparison, to say the least.

Will broke the strange silence with a nod, “Can’t hurt.” He stepped aside.

Naria shrugged and whispered, “I have multiple dispels prepared, I’ll use them all if necessary.” Will nodded and the young diviner lifted her hands and muttered a few words. The shimmer showed around the arch, then faded slowly.

Amador smirked, “This is a bit pointless don’t you thi-“

Will interrupted him as he put a hand on Naria’s hand as she brought them up to try again. “You did it. Its down.”

Naria smiled, a truly bright smile, the only one she had really had since the group had met her. She shrugged, “Beginner’s luck?”

Will grinned, “I’ll take it.” He turned to the others, “Lets do it.”

Marcus and Plickit began stalking quietly forward. Delorian waited till they got halfway to where they were going and then he stepped through the shadows as he had planned. Invisible, he stepped out of the shadows hanging from the ceiling between the two sentries at a door. In his hand a small crystal globe held the last of their silence spells.

One of the sentries cocked his head to one side. “Did you hear that?” he asked the other sentry.

The response was a disheartened grunt followed by, “No, you’re hearing things.”

A moment later, the second sentry frowned, “Yeah, I heard it that time.” He started to turn towards the door.

Delorian dropped the globe, and as the crystal shattered without a sound, the silence effect enveloped the small room. Marcus and Plickit appeared and attacked. One of the sentries got the door open. Two more sentries were within. Things happened fast. Too fast.

One of the sentries rolled out into the tower, out of the area of the silence spell. He cast a spell, that Will heard from were he was. Will growled, “A fly spell… go!” Amador and Mytrym rushed forward around the corner. The drow on the other side of the silence were dieing, and the one that was trying to get away had not expected more to come at him from behind. When one of Amador’s arrows plunged into him, the sentry grunted loudly.

Mytrym was on him in a flash. His sword hacked at the man quickly. As the sword buried into the man, he cried out pain. As his body fell under the combined blows of the group, his dieing grunts of pain echoed up into the four story tall inverted tower. Without anything in the room but stone, the huge area acted like an echo chamber, echoing the man’s dieing pains over and over again.

 

[iwatt]

Muttering something covered by the silence spells, the paladin drew a knife and cut deep into his own hand. As he stalked out of the room he pressed the knife’s hilt into Marcus’ hand.

A paladin aiding in killing helpless creatures? They are drow though

It's going to be interesting to see how this affects Myrtrim in the future.
By the way, what kind of half drow is he (half human, or half surface elf?).

 

[Wraithdrit]

He knew what had to be done, but was not about to sanction it, or be involved in it. He cut himself as a bit of penance for what he was allowing to be done.

Actually he is an Aasimar with drow heritage. Rules wise he is all aasimar, but character wise he has a half drow/half human/half celestial look to him.

 

[Wraithdrit]

Deep Underdark
East of Szith Morcane
Marpenoth 6th, Early Morning

Telinal wrapped the last of his things into his pack and glanced at his traveling companion. “So you really believe in it?”

Tursa glanced up from where she sat lacing up a boot. She studied him a few moments then nodded just once, “Of course. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

The drow bladesinger stood and picked his sword belt up and slung it over one shoulder. “I don’t know Tursa. I mean, how many prophecies did the Oracle get wrong? Why this one?”

The fey’ri stood and stalked over to look the bladesinger directly in the eyes. “As far as I know the Oracle has never been wrong. You can’t prove anything the Oracle said was ever wrong.”

He frowned, “That’s the problem with prophecies… make them vague enough and eventually someone will prove them right.”

Tursa shook her head and walked away. “It’s not like that. The words may seem general and the situations can seem shoehorned to fit, but you have no idea how much emotion and sight plays into it.”

Telinal narrowed his eyes, “You are close to the Oracle then.”

Tursa nodded and clasped her cloak over her shoulders, “Aye. We should get going, if you are going to make it to Szith Morcane on time we need to get moving.”

The pair finished getting ready and soon stalked quietly through the natural caverns of the Underdark. Telinal often had to scramble up small cliffs and shimmy down shafts to get from passage to passage. Going was a bit easier for the fey’ri. Her wings could easily be folded away under her cloak to keep them out of the way, but a quick flip of the cloth and they were out and propelling her to the next ledge or breaking her fall as she leapt from higher areas. Finally they stopped to take a break.

The bladesinger spoke first, “So how did you know we could get to Szith Morcane through the Elven Court. Not many surface dwellers know of these passages.”

The smile that Tursa gave him was very predatory. “The Oracle told me.”

Telinal shook his head and actually smiled, “Of course.” He was about to leap down to the next ledge down the large cavern they were traversing when a shadow to his left moved. His blade was in his hand in a flash. He spun, his right hand holding his sword, his left ready to make the intricate motions needed to release a spell from memory.

“Kill me not, if you desire to live.” The dark skinned dwarf held a crossbow in his meaty hands. It was pointed at the bladesinger, but Telinal had seen enough duergar in his day to know that it was probably the least of his worries.

Telinal lifted his hands, “Alright, what do you want?” He glanced over at Tursa. The fey’ri had her hands beneath her cloak and was just watching the duergar.

The grimy little dwarf shuffled forward, “You not supposed to be here. They don’t want others coming, not unless you with the banshee.” It sniffed and shook its head, “I see nothing dead with you, you not with the banshee.”

Telinal shook his head, “Actually I am escorting this woman to see the priestesses.” He nodded at Tursa, “I’m sure they will understand if you detain us though.”

The duergar looked as if it had been slapped. “We not detain you… we…” It got a better look at Tursa and frowned. “What is she?” He turned to focus the crossbow on her.

Tursa let her wings flip out from beneath the cloak and spread them to their full width, “That is none of your business, underling… now let us pass.”

The duergar’s eyes widened and he whispered, “Demon-blood…” He licked his lips and looked between the two. His form shuddered a bit and suddenly he began to grow. His little form grew larger and larger, and he shouted, “It’s a Demon-blood! Kill them! Kill them!”

Telinal threw himself at Tursa, throwing them both to the ground as bolts ripped through the where they had stood. The bladesinger came up with one hand already moving in the arcane motions of a spell. His form seemed to blur around the edges, and shifted in random directions every few moments.

Tursa was also casting. One hand threw forward a several small globes of energy spiraled out to slam into the enlarged duergar. The creature howled and tossed aside his spent crossbow and drew an axe. He strode forward and swung at Telinal, trying to knock him aside to get at the sorceress.

The axe passed through the false image Telinal’s spell had created and slammed into the ground, sending sparks and chips of stone flying. Telinal’s true blade lashed forward and stabbed once, twice, then a third time. Blood oozed from three different wounds, and the duergar was already swooning.

The bladesinger was not done with him though. His free hand kept going through arcane motions. Another spell flowed over the drow and his motions got even faster.

The rest of the duergar charged from the shadows at the pair. They spread out and tried to surround the pair. Tursa threw herself into the air, and after flying up a good ways, she muttered a few arcane words. A peashaped ball of fire dropped slowly from her hands, like a single drop of water. Instead of splashing when it hit the stone floor of the cavern, it exploded into a massive ball of flame that enveloped everyone but her.

The flames ripped through the dwellers of the Underdark. As the flames receded and the light dimmed, Tursa’s keen sight saw that no one had escaped the blast, not even Telinal. Smoke drifted from the drow, and soot charred portions of his dark skin. The pain did nothing to slow him down.

Weaving and dodging through the group of duergar, the bladesinger looked like he was dancing for fun in the middle of a decadent drow noble’s party, not like a master swordsman that was cutting a swathe through his enemy. His motions were fluid and fast, but utterly unhurried. He seemed to know when and how the burned dwarves would attack. He seemed always a step ahead of them. As blades fell on stone, he would step up them and lash out at their wielders. When a meaty hand would swing to bat him away, he flip backwards, lashing out in mid air to send a finger or a whole hand arching away into the darkness.

Fire licked up and down his blade, adding to screams of pain and anger the duergar let out each time he would lash out at them. Tursa smiled, it was almost a beautiful thing to watch the bladesinger work, but then the realization that it was not a dance, but a fight slowly slipped back into her thoughts. She waited for a pair of duergar to get close enough, and let loose with a massive bolt of lightning. It ripped through the pair, dropping both to the stone.

Telinal faced off with the last of the duergar, the one that had originally stopped them. The huge dwarf held its ground, and waited for Telinal to make his move first. It huffed and puffed, grunting at the pain of its many wounds and burns. Telinal paused and whispered another quick spell. Tursa recognized the spell as one that would make the bladesinger’s next strike as accurate as it possibly could. He already outmatched the creature, what was he planning, she wondered.

Instead of charging, the bladesinger hefted his blade back and threw it. The magic of his spell overcame the many difficulties in using sword as a massive throwing weapon. It struck the middle of the duergar’s chest. He slumped forward, the flames lighting his jerkin and cloak aflame. As he slumped to one side, dead, the bladesinger stepped up and pulled his sword free.

Tursa landed and strode over to where Telinal was wiping his blade off. “Well that confirms my suspicions. He must have made it to the city.”

Telinal nodded, “Aye, but she is still in power, otherwise they would not be patrolling for her. Damn mercenaries.” He kicked the smoldering body of one of the duergar. “Can’t stand them.” He turned his gaze on her. “I would appreciate if you would not catch me in your spells.”

Tursa smirked, “But Telinal, you drow are naturally resistant. Don’t tell me that my magic scares you.”

Telinal frowned, “Resistant, not immune. Though this does help…” He nodded down at his flaming sword, which he slid into its sheath. “Just don’t, alright?”

The sorceress nodded, “Fine. Lets keep moving… you have somewhere to be.”