Dagger Falls
Marpenoth 3, 1372
Late Evening
Naria paced back and forth in her room. It had been a while since she had been in a human town. It was unsettling feeling, knowing that if anyone detected her presence she would likely be killed on the spot.
The knock on her room’s door sent the drow scrambling for spell components and magic dagger. “Go away!”
Mytrym’s voice came from the other side of the door. “M’lady, its Mytrym. We need to talk. I’m alone.”
Naria relaxed a little bit. She had been expecting Mytrym to come to her eventually. She threw the latch back on the door and stepped to behind it, out of view of the hallway. “Come in.” She had recognized the half drow fairly quickly; even if his blood coursed with something non-human she knew that the blood of her people sped its way through his veins. She had been barely conscious when the heroes had burst into the room. She had heard the call to Eilistraee that had been called out. The only possible source could be the thin plate-wearing warrior she now knew as Mytrym.
When he stepped into the room Mytrym was still clad in his plate armor. His shield was strapped to his back, and his hand and a half sword was sheathed. “We need to talk, m’lady.”
“Indeed.” She locked the door behind him and turned to regard him closely. “Who… or what are you?”
He did not answer directly. Instead he reached into the neck of his breastplate and pulled a small mithral holy symbol of Eilistraee from within. “I am Mytrym, warrior of the Dark Maiden, pledged to aid those who wish to live above, but are trapped below.”
Naria nodded and finally understood why she felt so at ease around him. He was not just a follower, but a holy warrior. He was a paladin of Eilistraee. She smiled and stepped closer, “We have much to discuss, m’lord.”
Across town Randal Morn, Tanerus, and Amador regarded the still corpse of Plickit-Ka. Randal shook his head and frowned, “His employers are not going to be very happy about this.” He looked to Amador, “Can you bring him back.”
Amador frowned. It took him a moment to decide whether or not the world would be better off with one less elf eating mantis warrior around. Finally he shrugged away the moral question with a practical problem. “I have not the components. They are expensive.”
Randal nodded, “I understand. What are they? I might be able to help with that.”
Amador paused a moment. If Randal was willing to provide the components then why not leave it in the hands of Corellon. If his god was willing to allow the elf eater to return then there must be some merit in his addition to the group. “Very well. I need five thousand gold pieces worth of diamonds.”
Tanerus let off a low whistle and shook his head. Randall frowned even further, then after pausing a few moments said, “I’ll have it by the morning.” He turned to show the adventurers out, “Just come back here in the morning and I will have things prepared.”
Tanerus glanced at the wolf like creature that Plickit had called a jackal. “What of that thing?” He nodded at the animal.
Randal shrugged, “I’ll feed it and give a place to sleep till we revive its master.” The animal seemed to sense he was being referred to. It walked over and curled up in front of the couch that they had laid Plickit’s corpse on.
Amador smirked, “I think it found a place to sleep.” The companions took their leave of the Lord of Dagger Falls and were soon back at the inn. Delorian still sat in one corner, watching the tavern-goers, many of who seemed more interested in watching Delorian than eating their evening meals.
Morning came swiftly enough. Naria agreed to meet the others outside town and departed quickly, her disguise back in place. The group returned to Morn’s house and was shown into where Plickit lay. Morn held a bag out to Amador. The priest took it and examined its contents. “Corellon will be pleased with the offering.” He moved around the body, placing the diamonds in a circle around the Thri-kreen ranger.
Everyone else stood back, watching the process. After chanting for some time in elven, Amador raised his hands and called upon his deity to aid in the return of the group’s newest, and strangest, companion. A warm light filled the room and Plickit slowly sat up, all four hands coming up to rub his head. “What-tck happened-tck?”
Tanerus frowned when he noticed the diamonds had all been replaced with small sprigs greenery. He muttered, “Diamonds for clover… cute.”
Amador answered, “You died. You remember the drow? The priestess and the wizard with all his lightning bolts?”
Plickit nodded slowly, “Yes. I remember this-tck.” He winced as he tried to move to stand up. “I still hurt-tck.”
Lord Morn stepped forward and handed him a potion. “Here… this should help.” Plickit quickly quaffed the potion. His charred and burned skin and chitin quickly healed and the ranger stood easily.
Everyone in the party looked at Lord Morn. He shrugged and said, “Sorry, only one I had.”
Quickly the group explained what had happened since Plickit fell. With the ranger briefed they left Dagger Falls, join Naria and returned to the crypts. Having reached a dead end behind the illusionary wall, they proceeded down the main passage.
Soon they reached a four-way intersection of ancient natural passages. Naria pointed to the east. “That way leads to a fallen dwarven kingdom.”
Mytrym smiled, “Formerly fallen.” When Naria looked confused he held up a hand and whispered, “I’ll explain later.”
The drow seemed satisfied and pointed south, “Szith Morcane is that way.”
Plickit stood from where he had been examining the floor. “Something was dragged that-tck way.” He pointed to the east.
Frowning at the implication Tanerus muttered, “I would rather not have something behind me that is in the habit of dragging things around.”
Everyone quickly and quietly agreed. A plan was quickly reached where Mytrym would play bait. Naria cast an invisibility spell on Plickit, Tanerus and Delorian pulled shadows around their forms and the paladin strode forward. Amador and Naria stayed well back, joined by the now unseen Delorian.
When nothing came from the eastern passage to investigate the noise, Mytrym turned and strode into the cavern that the passage soon opened up into. Tanerus had scouted the cavern and reported that there were piles of gear stacked here and there, but no bodies to go with the gear. He also thought he heard chewing.
Mytrym strode into the large chamber. A small alcove bent around one corner, and he slowly crept toward it, shield up, sword in hand. When he reached the corner he heard nothing and saw nothing. The alcove was empty. The paladin put his back to the wall and glanced down at the ground. He bent to examine closer, trying to pay attention to his surroundings. Tracks of slight moisture were quickly fading from the rock. Something had just walked through here. Something not human. Its feet were pawed, but it walked with the weight of a huge biped.
Mytrym began to follow the tracks. He was halfway across the room when a massive form appeared in the corner. It was a gnoll of some significant size. Its hand was outstretched, pointing at Mytrym.
A globe of light appeared on either side of the paladin and solidified into the shape of twin ghouls. Mytrym led out a startled cry and the fight was on. The ghouls lurched forward, but the paladin easily threw one aside with his shield and backed the other off with a swing of his now glowing sword.
The creature in the corner cackled with an unearthly laugh and danced in place, watching the ghouls try to corner the sole visible party member. Mytrym had other ideas. He held his sword out and shouted at the creatures, “Eilistraee demands that you BE GONE!” Both of the ghouls disintegrated into dust in the light that rippled forth from the sword.
With a howl of anger the gnoll-creature threw its hands out at Mytrym again. Blackish energy rippled forth and swirled around the paladin. The energy formed bonds that tightened around the paladin. With a single grunt the paladin forced his will out, smashing through the dark tendrils, shrugging off the magic with ease.
Delorian appeared from the shadows and rolled into corner the creature in the corner of the cavern. He came up from the roll and leveled a fist at the creature. The thing did not even try to move. All the better, thought the monk. His fist slammed into the gnolls muzzled with a blow hard enough to smash bone and fur into pulp. The creature seem unfazed by the blow, its muzzle seemed completely unhurt.
Shadows rippled around one cavern wall as Tanerus maintained his hidden position despite the firing of his crossbow. The bolt ripped across the cavern and thunked into the creature’s hide. But rather than imbed deep into the creature, the bolt barely penetrated, despite the fact that Tanerus had aimed the shot for the creatures vitals.
Mytrym strode forward, joining Delorian in the corner, pressing the attack on the creature. He swung his magic blade and slashed easily into the creature’s side. The blade slid off its hide, doing no damage to the cackling fiend. Mytrym growled, “We can’t hurt it!”
Naria and Amador advanced into the room. The cleric quickly dropped into a prayer, grabbing his holy symbol. The room reeked of death; perhaps the creature was undead like the ghouls it summoned. Amador called for the creature’s destruction. Energy flowed from the cleric washing over the entire room.
Naria let fly a barrage of magic missiles. The small globes of energy blasted into the creature, leaving little scorch marks. The creature howled in pain at the magic missiles. As the glow of Amador’s turning washed over it, the creature began backing into the corner, holding it arms up to protect itself. The turn was working.
Mytrym and Delorian relaxed slightly. The paladin lifted his blade to try and strike the creature down. As he did, he saw that the creature was starting to lower its arms. It was laughing at them.
“Fools! You cannot hurt me! I will devour you all!” It cackled loudly and lunged at Mytrym.
The paladin responded by calling on Eilistraee’s aid. His sword glowed brighter once more and as he slashed at the lunging creature the blade actually cut the beast, ever so slightly. The minor wound just seemed to amuse the creature that much more.
Plickit appeared a single cold-iron throwing wedge in his hand. He threw it, sending the wedge spinning end over end at the creature. It too was ineffect, bouncing off the nasty fiend’s hide. Delorian landed ineffective blow after ineffective blow off the creature, as it scrambled against Mytrym’s shield. The paladin was barely keeping it off of him.
Amador frowned and called on his god once more, “Smite this foul beast, so that we might continue our quest, my lord.” The prayer ended he clapped his hands together. An explosion of light filled the corner. Delorian cried out in surprise and pain, but the creature howled as the light cut deep furrows along its hide.
When the light faded the creature was wounded but still standing. It looked past Mytrym to the priest and growled, “For that insolence, you die priest!” It strode forward, shrugging off the blows that Delorian and Mytrym rained on its back. Their weapons just were not hurting it.
Tanerus pulled out the wand that the drow priestess had used repeatedly. He quickly mimicked the motions she had made and the wand sprout a searing ray of light, splashing over the creature’s side. The light just seemed to pour of its hide. It too was ineffective.
Amador back peddled as the creature lurched forward at him. The holy smite had been very effective against the creature. It had howled out in pain, and large burns showed the remnants of the smite’s effect. Recognition flashed in the priest’s eyes. Only one kind of creature would be that hurt by a holy smite. Only an evil outsider would be so pained by the smite’s blast. It had to be the answer. The creature was something conjured up from the lower planes.
It was time to send it back. Amador leveled his holy symbol and began and new prayer. The enraged creature took a swing at the priest, but he was light on his feet, dodging out of the way. Finally Amador’s words echoed through the chamber. “… and by his holy power, I send you back from where you came!” A rift in the reality of the cavern opened beneath the outsider’s feet.
Shocked at the feeling of hands grabbing his ankles, the creature looked down and saw the rift. “No!” it screamed, lunging forward. It fell to the stone floor, clawing at the rocks and dirt as the many hands of the creatures of the underworld reeled it slowly into the mystical rift. With a flash of reddish light and a puff of sulfurous smoke the rift closed and the room was eerily silent save the harsh breathing of the Heroes of Tethyamar.
