#14 - Wings and Heights

The PCs did not comply to the ghostly hobgoblin's words, but camped out and rested, weary from their battle and mostly confident that the surviving enemies—namely, Avashad, Drazul, and any Emerald Claw soldiers—would not be able reach them. The mysterious shade walked through the wall and vanished without a word.

During their rest, some of the PCs examined their new treasures and Xoma sought out the room labeled "Separation Chamber" on the map, with minimal success.  Rendar donned the Karrnathi banded mail taken from one of the skeletal warriors. It looked distinctively Karrnath, yes, but here inside the mountain, who would care?

When they were rested, Cypher used the Emperor's Key to "open" the great plaque, which dissolved the pillar of shadow depicted in the relief into dark smoke, thus creating a passage through. The PCs went through, but Halbazar was reluctant—he had an intense dislike and general distrust for goblinkind (dead or otherwise).

They found themselves emerging onto the edge of a daunting, circular chasm of rough-hewn stone which rose out of sight into darkness (with a glimmer of daylight far above), and down into the depths into utter darkness. A spiral stairway, carved vaguely into the rock walls, wound itself both up and down the unseen distance. The shelf 

Halbazar immediately chose to go up, not wanting to go further into the earth. And in that moment a gargoyle, camouflaged against the rock wall, sprang from beneath the spiral stair and slammed into him. It was soon joined by a second and a new battle was underway. It didn't last long, though. The gargoyles were quickly slain with arrows, spells, morning stars, and warhammers. Their heavy bodies dropped into the depths.

But the PCs continued upward, toward the distant light. After several spirals later, with Xoma and his darkvision in the lead, they reached the top of the stairs—though the shaft itself continue further up beyond their reach—where a pair of stony gargoyles perched and watched them. The PCs attempted to bargain with them as Xoma attempted to sneak upon them. Another gargoyle emerged from a tunnel behind the other two, revealing the battered and unconscious body of Dursha, the old goblin woman from the Bookmark Inn, who they'd captured from the ruins outside.

Using the decoy of the Emperor's Key as part of a bargain, the PCs "reasoned" with them and entered their lair. Inside was a long chamber of narrow walkways and carved fissures, with various humanoid bones strewn about the place. Six gargoyles flanked the central walkway and at the far end, in front of another exit, was a large idol of stone resembling an exaggerated gargoyle or some sort of devilish figure. To Doongul, it resembled one possible depiction of the Devourer or the Shadow, gods of the Dark Six.

But then the statue itself moved, revealing it to be a gargoyle, too—a very big one. Ogre-sized, at least. Around its neck hung a velvet bag. The PCs again attempted to bargain with the gargoyles for passage beyond their lair, and the great gargoyle eventually conceded to a single fight between each side's "champion." The assumption was, if PC champion won, they could pass. If the gargoyle champion won, the PCs would have surrender at least one of their own as a meal.

The PCs chose Magnus as their champion, and of course the large gargoyle was theirs.

It was a short but brutal fight, with a gravely wounded gargoyle lord and a very unconscious Magnus crashing to the ground. But the moment the Seren barbarian went down, Xoma joined in by releasing a Ray of Enfeeblement at the gargoyle leader. The spell wounded him further, but the action incited mass combat, as the other six gargoyles joined in.

It was another exhausting battle, as spells and weapons tore into stony flesh—and gargoyle talons and horns punctured PC bodies. Blood was spattered upon the ground from both sides. The great gargoyle assumed a petrified state and seemed to heal like this, but eventually animated again to renew the attack and even tried to escape. Magnus, wakened at last with magical healing, finally delivered the death blow to the massive gargoyle, who crumbled into stone even as he died. 

Dursha had not survived the battle.

Within the rubble of his remains was a gleaming, broad-bladed dagger that the arcanists of the party recognized as magical. Runes and gargoylish designs were etched into the blade. Within the velvet bag Cypher discovered a curious metal object which he soon identified as a final messenger, an artificer-made object that could be embedded within the chest cavity of  a warforged. They were used to impart a message to another warforged that the messenger can fly to, or the final moments of the construct's life.

While the other PCs delved into the pits around the room among the countless bones of the gargoyles' victims, Cypher placed the messenger inside his own chest and experienced the final moments of another warforged's life:

Light shines in a long corridor. Where the light fades, darkness fills both directions. It shines from a lantern in your left hand. In your right is a crossbow. No, your hand is a crossbow.


“I don’t like this,” you say.

Your name is Claviger. The final messenger imparts this knowledge to you. You are a warrior with some artificer training. You never fought for any of the Five Nations. When you were created by the heirs of House Cannith, you were purchased by a human unaffiliated with the house. He immediately gave you your freedom, but he asked you for help on a quest. That was a few years ago now.

“I don’t like it, either, old friend,” says your companion, who insists on walking in front of you. He is human, gruff, big-bodied, bearded. Cloaked, carrying a broadsword. The man is at least fifty years old―which you can hardly fathom. You’re not so “young” for a warforged, but you’ve been alive for less than ten years. You can hardly grasp living for five decades or more. Can warforged truly live that long?

“Why doesn’t this tunnel end?” you say. “It isn’t natural.”

“No,” the human replies softly. Is that fear in his voice? “It is most certainly unnatural. Remember who made this place.”

Then something looms before you both in the darkness ahead. Without moving, its very presence sends uncomfortable vibrations through your body. You try to see it better, but it is nothing more than figure at the edge of your light. Tall, emaciated. Dead, you think.

Or undead.

It glides closer.

“Wolaf!” you yell. “Get behind me! You promised you would let me do my job.”

“We’re beyond the bodyguard thing now, Claviger. You’re already wounded. I can take this thing. Just stay—!”

The creature is upon you! It looks like it’s smiling. Full of bones and razors and wet muscle. Claws, impossibly long, lash out. Wolaf slashes with his sword and parries its attack, but with a second sweep of its claws it sends him crashing against the wall in a spray of blood. He grunts and goes down, but you know he’s still alive. You must keep him alive!

You shout and storm forward, loosing bolts even as you throw down your lantern and draw out your sword. The creature turns its full attention upon you now. Pressure so intense it can only be called pain courses through your body as claws tear through wood and stone.

You weather the attack and drive your blade into its body. But the knife-blades of its fingers won’t stop tearing. You realize you have failed your only friend. Perhaps you can buy him time.

Perhaps—