* * *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.
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