28 - The Challenges of Bloodstone

Here the narrative is picked up again by the shifter Cyzicus of the Eldeen, a Loreguard ranger.

* * *

Really, I shouldn’t be here in Graywall at all; instead I should be travelling over the Byeshk Mountains, trying to reach the Eldeen as swiftly as possible. I must deliver Wolaf’s final testament to Koruun and alert him to the new danger that threatens Eberron. I fear that I’ve failed to impress my allies with a sense of the terrible urgency with which this matter should be treated. At the same time, I see that they must prepare themselves for the journey yet to come, and Graywall looks like the least dangerous place for many miles around to provide what they need. Still, patience is hard, and I am a shifter of very little brain. Perhaps if I can persevere through all the complications and dangers our band always attracts I can gain some small portion of wisdom.

I have found two brights spots during our stay in this city of monsters. I was able to buy many arrows here and experienced the warm, content feeling one can only know when bearing almost one hundred arrows in one’s quivers. Better still, Cypher informed me that he can fully mend any damaged arrow as long as I can recover its components. The rest of our visit has unfortunately been filled with the usual threats and unprovoked attacks from complete strangers.

Our detour into the Goblin Market on the way to the gates of Calabas yielded a vial of scorpion venom for Xoma, though it took all of his and Cypher’s efforts to get the elderly goblin vendor to reach an agreement. I didn’t get the details as most of the transaction took place in the Goblin tongue, but I saw Xoma hand over not only gold, but also containers of goop harvested from the wyverns and carrion worms we’ve faced.

In truth, I stood off to the side while that was going on, along with Magnus, Doongul and Trug. Doongul seemed intent on revealing Onatar’s light to the young goblin, and told him it was the god who had healed his orc-inflicted wounds. I don’t think Trug understood it—he seems too hung up on the Dark Six to recognize that benevolent deities even exist. At least he’s started to imitate Doongul’s characteristic, peg-legged gait.

We felt little surprise when we reached the Calabas gates and didn’t find Sa-Jira waiting. However, after just a few minutes the sharp-eyed Doongul, Cypher and Xoma took note of a half-elven woman clad in gray and blue leather armor. She had a bandage on one arm and carried a bloody kukri. Xoma hailed her and quickly learned that she was looking for us. The woman gave her name as Drivinia, and said she was a friend of Sa-Jira's and owed the medusa a favor—something the medusa desperately needed now. She went on to say we would have to travel to the House of the Hand on the Street of Shadows in Bloodstone, the city’s largest district. This House of the Hand is some sort of sanctuary for worshipers of the Mockery, one of the Dark Six, perhaps the sort of god Trug could relate to as a Droamm resident. Drivinia also said that the House’s abbot is away, supposedly making it more “safe” to venture there.

According to the half-elf woman, she and Sa-Jira believe that the House of the Hand is in league with the Howling Wind, the harpy pack outlaws who we fought with outside Graywall. Occyra, the harpy Xoma battled, may have reached Graywall and convinced the monks of the Mockery to abduct her. "They have taken her captive," Drivinia said. "You do not want to be taken alive by servants of the Mockery."

No one questioned the words of the Brelish scout—for that is what her armor proclaimed her to be—and we set off. It seemed as though Drivinia’s scars and the shape of her once-broken nose kindled fond memories of Seren women for Magnus. Unless she sprouts a glossy coat of fine fur, I won’t stand in his way.

Random violence dropped on our heads once again: In Bloodstone, a trio of gargoyles we hadn’t seen before descended in front of Cypher, and challenged him to face their champion in mortal combat. The creature claimed to have killed members of each of our races (which Xoma seemed offended by), but had not yet faced off against a warforged before.

After due consideration, the warforged consented. The gargoyles offered a prize if he won: a full backpack of obvious Cyran origin and all its contents. A crowd of Graywall’s citizens including harpies, half-orcs, gnolls, and goblins quickly gathered to watch the free entertainment.

Spittle began to fly as Cypher conferred with Xoma in some sibilant language, probably Draconic. Cypher chose dagger and shield as his arms, and the drow handed him the magical dagger that was wrested from the margoyle’s corpse in Paluur Draal. Xoma argued the terms of the combat while Cypher surreptitiously used a number of magical infusions to prepare for the battle. Doongul blessed everyone in our band, while the crowd and gargoyles grew restless and it looked like we were all headed for a fight.

The fight turned out to be a short one. Striking with the grace of a cat, Cypher landed a flurry of blows that flashed like lightning and boomed like thunder, staggering the gargoyle with every strike. However, his foe’s attacks were effective even against whatever magical protection Cypher used, and it looked as the monster might still win. Doongul stepped up to heal Cypher, and earned a scornful comment from one of the harpy spectators. The healing was enough to give Cypher the strength to deliver a killing blow.


The gargoyle’s comrades refused to yield the pack, Magnus pressed the issue, a gargoyle attacked him, and the fight was on. In the chaos, the pack was tossed up onto an eave, Rendar joined Magnus in melee, Cypher passed the magical dagger back to Xoma, I fired a pair of arrows that missed their mark, and Xoma used his thunderwave spell to shift everyone around and injure our foes. Xoma brought down another gargoyle with the dagger, and the last gargoyle fled up the side of a building.

The crowd surged forward, but that’s when the harpies began to sing. Just as Magnus and myself had found ourselves charmed in earlier encounters with the bird-women, so was the crowd soothed. The leader of the harpies tossed the Cyran pack to Cypher accompanied with the words “It was a good show.” She then turned to Doongul and threatened to tear out his tongue if she ever heard him speak the name of his god in front of her again. Crazy she-fiend.

Drivinia urged us to move on, but Xoma insisted we linger to see the effect the magic dagger had on the dead gargoyle. Almost immediately its corpse began to increase in size and to stir, drawing material to its body from the street and reddish stone from the walls. Minutes passed before it rose to its feet as a fully formed margoyle to face Xoma. The strain of some great exertion was written clearly on the drow’s face as he spoke with it and asserted his role as its master. The conversation ended when the margoyle ambiguously stated “I will find you.”

We resumed our progress toward the Street of Shadows. As we passed through a side street, Drivinia advised us to look at the ground, not the walls around us which seemed to emanate an enchantment that caused dizziness. She explained that it was a mind flayer who governed Graywall—named Xochyllic—had set this up as some sort of security measure. I shuddered at the thought of a pawn of Xoriat wielding such power, even in a city with such dubious inhabitants.

In the Street of Shadows we passed many shrines to foul demons and gods attended by equally foul worshipers before we arrived at the House of the Hand. We passed into an entry courtyard that featured some sort of charnel pit, complete with the burnt, bloody marks of sacrifice. A young woman with Thranish features stood on the opposite side of the pit, over the slain body of a young man who bore a strong familial resemblance to her. She wore a single gauntlet with spikes on the inside and blood trickled from self-inflicted wounds. There also seemed to be tears in her eyes, yet she stood in a composed and resolute manner.

Doongul called on the power of Onatar (or “Ontara” as Trug would say), speaking a single world of command: “Grovel.” Magnus moved forward to knock her unconscious, but the young woman dealt him a forceful kick that left him stunned. Xoma cast a web spell on the door behind her to block any reinforcements and bind the acolyte herself, Rendar smashed her shoulder with a thrown hammer, and I wasted a couple more arrows. The recovered Magnus brought the handle of his mace down on her skull and knocked her out. We bound her, then turned to the door into the House of the Hand and waited for Xoma’s spell to wear off.

#27 - Calabas and the Unfair Fight

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

Comfy beds.

Comfortable beds in an inn are about the best use of gold that can be found on this strange continent. This lesson I have learned more than any since leaving Seren. The particularly soft beds at the Golden Dragon were the best yet.

We awoke in the evening, after a long sleep, rest, meditation or puttering. Each of us was again transformed towards another step toward our true draconic selves. Does the great red wyrm not lie comfortably upon a bed of gold? Personally I feel much more durable and nimble, though I hear there are new spells and perfected skills among the others. If there is one thing I could bring to Seren from all this mainland gew-gaw, it would be an enclave of "Ghallanda" halflings and their comfortable beds.

We met in the lobby, ate dinner, and did not make plans to leave immediately. They wanted to stay in the city seeking commerce, thinking they have treasure to spend. It’s as if these men have never seen treasure, or even heard tales of treasure. Treasure is kept by dragons, in mounds.

We have some scavenged weapons, armor and sticky bits to try to sell and then to buy other stuff. It is much easier and saner to seek treasure and experiences in adventure. Pillaging the hordes of fell creatures is the source of true wealth and greatness! Not only that, but were were in a a city made up of fell creatures. We should have immediately figured out a way to destroy the whole city and reap the bounty! As it is, we seem to be on our way to do some shopping and then meet up with the youth medusa (wild adventure indeed!).

Oh yes, and speak with a gnome. We have crossed the continent and there are gnomes even here. This one called herelf Fherina Hartsdale, so Xoma has said, and said she was in Graywall looking for an uncle, or something. I cared little and ate more instead.

After this, we make our way to the market through the "normal" quarter, Calabas. Cypher stuck out and people noted all that we did. Another reason I don’t like cities. It was very different at night in this city. Unpleasant monsters wheeled through the sky and perched on buildings. They largely kept out of this quarter of the city, but we could see them there. Harpies and gargoyles, mostly. There was also a cluster of tents around the square. They called this the Goblin Market, and indeed we saw many goblins about, even an ogre or two in the company of orc or half-orc.

On the way to a merchant's trading house that we'd been recommended to, we crossed the great square and saw two notable things: an Unfair Fight between a big orc and a goblin kid, and a warforged chained to a wall.

Cypher and Xoma went to look at the warforged. They learned that he was indeed owned and put to work hauling things and guarding stuff.  He would not discuss his owners, but he did speak and said his name was Grapnel. Is not a grapnel a grappling hook? A device with hooks, a tool. Warforged and those who keep them are strange.

The rest of us went to see to the Unfair Fight. The orc was kicking the kid around and Rendar spoke up. A little standoff occurred and Rendar (and the rest of us!) managed to scare off the stupid orc. He gave the kid one more kick, then skulked off to stand at the edge of the crowd, watching us.

The kid was filthy, bloody, with a smashed face and teeth. A street urchin. Probably thousands just like him in this city. But for reasons I cannot imagine, Doongul healed the goblin with a spell, then HIRED HIM as a guide. No sooner were we rid of Halbazar than we were childsitting again. This kid is in for a ride. His name is Trug. Perhaps he'll die in our company, or perhaps not. Doongul seemed to have taken a liking to him. Doesn't change the fact that he's a goblin.

We went into the shop and sell our stuff—including that ancient hobgoblin armor—for a magic ring. To me, that was a lot of hauling stuff around for a little band of gold. Xoma took the ring, assuming it will actually protect him. Maybe we should give it to the kid—he looks easy to kill—who would benefit the most, hah!
Speaking of the kid, while Doongul was asking about buying cloth for the boy (huh?!), the goblin wandered out toward the door of the shop....and he was grabbed right out of the doorway.

We scattered out of the shop to see a man in a robe a few yards out. Big, strong. Like me, perhaps, but bald, and...with reptilian eyes and greenish, scaly skin. The others suspect he is related to the medusas. I suppose this is what a male could look like. Meanwhile, the goblin kid was being held by some gargoyle henchmen right above us.

But this was a better development. It was time to FIGHT!

But no. Suddenly we were TALKING to the creep, who told us that we were seen entering the city with the medusa girl (Sa-Jira), and that she had never returned home. Her mother—"the Ambassador"—was holding us responsible. We would have to find Sa-Jira and bring her back to her mother's house before dawn or be handed over to the “Flayer Guard”—which sounds extremely sucky.

I am betting the medusa girl is drunk somewhere, or under a some guy's’ python, if you follow my meaning. Instead of killing the man where he stood and setting fire to the whole city, we agreed to the deal and made our plans to look for her. The gargoyle dropped the goblin into our waiting arms. Now we’re working for monsters.  Cities make us all crazy, I guess. But at least we are above ground.

Xoma wanted to do some more shopping (buying poison) and we all went into a clothing store. Ugh! Next we plan to see if the medusa girl keeps her appointment with us in an hour—we were supposed to meet her after twelve hours—or if we have to go crawling through this monster city looking for a runaway medusa with mother problems.

I should have stayed in the comfy bed.

#26 - Entering Graywall

Scribblings of a Warforged Scholar On Adventure

Sa-Jira led us on a forced march through the night in order to reach the Droaam city of Graywall without encountering any further resistance.  She showed no evidence of tiring but my companions were certainly feeling the effects of lack of rest.

When warforged wax philosophical (and Shakesperean).

Of course I had no issues with the journey but it did make me ponder the experience of most living creatures. Exhaustion is such an integral part of most creatures' lives, dictating the schedule around when to perform tasks and forcing them to expend resources of time and money on rest and relaxation. It makes for quite the inefficient lifestyle, but it is so very common. I imagine most warforged take for granted the fact we do not need rest to survive, unlike these brittle creatures of Khorvaire. As a trained Artificer, I of course require moments of concentration to gather the magical entities needed for my infusions but for me this time is a pleasurable distraction from the monotony of most duties. I cannot truly imagine how sleeping uselessly on the ground can be anything but an unfortunate tactical disadvantage.

While contemplating this point, some of the party members began reacting negatively to a strange scent. I noticed it too, although it's unpleasantness did not hinder me in any way. The smell seemed to come from Magnus, Doongul, and myself and I were able to determine that the mysterious black eggs were the source.

They had completely degraded within our packs, covering several items. Sa-Jira noted the mess and smell with great distress. She called them "blackshells," and it seems they were some sort of alchemical "gnoll trick." The medusa said they would attract ankhegs quickly. Now that they had transformed into a gooey, odorous substance, the large insects would soon be upon us.

"The hills are infested with ankhegs," Sa-Jira said.

Magnus took off his almost-bare pack and sling, which were now ruined, and lofted it as far as he could away from the party. Doongul lost his fuller pack to the same fate. I rid myself of the pouch that held the egg but I was reluctant to give up the valuable Khyber dragonshard that I had procured from the airship back near Darguun. While not everyone in the party was happy with my delay—most notably Sa-Jira—Xoma suggested we might use the acid-slime we took from the gelatinous cube to clean off the egg residue from the dragonshard. I knelt on the ground and carefully applied my vial of  cube slime over the Dragonshard.  It wasn't enough, so I used Xoma's second vial as well.

But not before an ankheg burst from a fresh hole in the ground! The massive insects spat streams of acid and managed to spray my companions.

While I hastily finished cleaning the dragonshard, the others were able to dispose of the creature. Another ankheg emerged nearby but this time Rendar and Magnus were ready for it. They flanked the hole and set up an ambush. The ankheg emerged from the hole with such force that Rendar was pushed back several feet. He managed to recover, however, and the ambush was successful. Rendar slashed at the ankheg's armored carapace and Magnus landed a crippling blow from the rear. The ankheg was so turned around that Xoma was able to stab it from behind also. I had no trouble felling the beast with a magical bolt loosed from my armbow.

New holes appeared nearby with two more ankhegs. These alchemical blackshells must be potent indeed! Magnus and Doongul started pummeling one of them with mace and thunder. Cyzicus provided the killing blow, shearing its head off with his scimitar. I noted that this was his first successful attack since starting the forced march, perhaps he needed rest more than his pride was willing to admit.

Rendar went to attack the final ankheg but Sa-Jira warded him off; she told him simply to avert his eyes.  Thankfully he heeded her advice because no sooner did she turn to the ankheg than it was immobilized by the young medusa's gaze. Once paralyzed, it was a simple matter to dispose of the creature, but I was intrigued to witness another of the medusa's attacks. Sa-Jira unleashed her venomous snakes on the defenseless ankheg, causing significant damage. I would not soon forget that powerful attack from the fledgling medusa.

We marched even faster now, weary of another ankheg attack.  There were no more surprises, however, and we reached the gates of Graywall by mid-morning. It was a welcome site to see, if not exactly beautiful.  Graywall is a fairly new city built atop ancient Draakani ruins, but the buildings were built by monstrous peoples of Droaam and the aesthetic is entirely alien to that of the Five Nations.

Sa-Jira told us we could come rest at her mother's house in the city. This seemed to me like an intriguing adventure—oh what could be learned by meeting a mature medusa! But I was alone in my interest and it was decided we would head to Calabas, the foreign ghetto of the city where all of the less monstrous races gathered to live. While marching through the winding avenue of city, I caught the words of a passing half-orc, who referred to Calabas as quartering the "runoff from the Five Nations."

Calabas is the goblin word for "kennels," as in dog sanctuary, a great irony were you to ask most members of the common races. In my experience as a warforged, xenophobia is a universal truth and therefore Calabas is not ironic at all, just unfortunate.

On the way to the Calabas, I took note of how strange it was to be in a true monster city, to see ogres and gnolls walking amidst houses and buildings. While we didn't run into any trouble on our way through the city—Sa-Jira's presence parted most of the crowds—I did feel like we were being watched, especially me; I didn't see a single warforged in the city. We passed a few minor brawls on our short path to Calabas. The medusa said there is an arena in Graywall and I wondered if Magnus would find himself there at some time during our stay.

We arrived at the gate to Calabas. The gate was open with no one to impede our entrance, but there were several orcs in the livery of House Tharashk standing guard. Rendar d'Tharashk went forward to the guards, boldly displaying his dragonmark. It was an unnecessary maneuver but perhaps he was trying to impress us with the power of his noble birth. Needless to say, the guards acknowledged him immediately, called him "my lord," and answered all of our questions about Calabas. Battling in the tunnels beneath the surface world, it has been easy to forget that my companions come from very different walks of life. Rendar is a dragonmarked heir, and in some places that commands instant respect.

At the center of Callabas was a great square dominated by a mighty statue of a dragonne, symbol of House Tharashk. Notable were the lodging options available to us. While there were some cheaper options, we decided to stay at the Golden Dragon for at least the first night. The Golden Dragon is a well-known chain of inns curated by the dragonmarked halflings of House Ghallanda.

Before settling in for the night, however, we decided to go to the Jorasco House of Healing we spotted, to see if anything could be done with our unfortunate friend Halbazar. The Jorasco apprentices at reception did their best to be hospitable but halfway into our description of the events that took Halbazar from us they excused themselves and returned with a true heir of Jorasco named Hahlo.

The aged halfling asked us some more questions and his assistants recorded our story. We tried not to divulge too much but finally felt it necessary to admit that the incident happened in Darguun. The healer wondered why we hadn't sought the help of a larger, better suited enclave in one of the many cities between Graywall and Darguun l but at this point it was made clear to him that we had no further information to help him. He took the hint and suggested that he take Halbazar for 24 hours of close watch and care. In one day he would perhaps know more. Finally rid of the constant burden of our fallen comrade, we headed to the Golden Dragon for some much needed rest.