#84 - The Weaver's Shadow

Excerpt from the Cypher's Codex: The Scrawlings of a Warforged Scholar

A magical darkness enveloped our oni enemy and at the same time a black vapor arose from the tattoos of the Shadow etched into mine and Magnus’s palms. It was the first time these tattoos had ever activated, although I certainly had my suspicions that there was magic involved, likely divine as I could never fully analyze their magical matrix. Zerasha took our basilisk-gaze-stoned bodies from the arena in Graywall and brought us back to animated form, however in the process giving us our palm glyphs.

Unseen beneath the screen of darkness, the oni flew up into the air and beyond most of our reaches. When the darkness subsided, our oni was less protected and Magnus was able to land a fierce blow against his lower half. However the oni looked different than before; his features were slightly different and he was wearing different clothes. Just as I was about to fire upon the creature, he called out to me and Magnus claiming no intention to hurt us. I surmised that there was some relation between the subsiding black vapor about the oni and that from my palm. Stepping between Magnus and his prey, I called out for a parley and it was accepted.

The oni claimed to be Sorrel, a friend of Zerasha and a servant of the Shadow. Through some magical means he did not explain, he was able to switch physical places with his brother Hiraz the Weaver, the oni we against which we had begun this battle. For a short yet indeterminate amount of time Sorrel would remain with us in the ruins, sent as a spy for the Shadow. It was clear he, like the medusa priestess, was a servant of the Sovereign of Magic and Mayhem. Sorrel explained that Zerasha had gathered new intelligence and now sought more; it was only by our presence here that he was able to manifest. His brother, Hiraz, had made Glyphstone Keep, or at least this level of its dungeons, into his lair for some time. But now he had made alliances with our enemies.

Someone asked about the nature of the Hiraz’s slave. Sorrel said he was of no consequence, but I said that we should converse away from the slave, in case he were to reveal our intentions to his master when Hiraz returned. Sorrel admitted this to be an issue and stated his intent to therefore kill the slave but we were able to get him to move to the rug storage room instead. In there he was searching through the rugs; he said he was looking for a magical rug his brother, a skilled weaver, had produced. He was unable to locate the one in question and did not explain what it was for.

We spoke with him further and Sorrel then told us of news from Zerasha. She had communed with The Dark One and learned that Avashad had placed here Governor Trazzen, the vampire lord who had hounded us since his appearance in the Graywall arena, giving him full authority over Glyphstone Keep. Avashad had, at least in Droaam, presented himself openly as a rakshasa, a terrible sign since his ancient kind tended toward subterfuge and shapeshifting as a rule. Magnus and Clarion described to Sorrel our interaction with Lucerix and Avashad, much to Sorrel’s interest. Zerasha, he said, believed that Avashad had acquired an ancient device—possibly here in Glyphstone Keep and of Dhakaani design—that he intends to use against the great nation of Breland to some horrible end. However the artifact’s destructive power is only meant as a distraction, there is some greater game being played. Nonetheless, I vow to myself to destroy this device at all costs, Long Live His Holiness King Boranel.

We searched the next room with Sorrel, a tapestry room with several fine tapestries hanging from the walls. Likewise, war banners were displayed on tables in the center of the room. Each of the banners depicted a different version of the same beautiful harpy, slaying her foes with her deadly voice or rending claws. Sorrel named the harpy as Callain of the Bloody Word, ruler of a clan of notorious harpies from the Byeshk Mountains and one of the few that did not pay tribute to the hags that govern Droaam.

The tapestries on the wall were of more subtle design. But I noticed in particular two of them that depicted humanoid figures that interested me for some reason—a young human in the uniform of an Emerald Claw knight and another human wearing cold weather gear. I touched the second tapestry and detected a strong magical emanation; I also noticed the human in the banner bore many tattoos that immediately reminded me of Magnus’s but they were white instead of red. I told Magnus to look at it and he recognized the man as a Seren. He turned away after a warning from Sorrel to not look upon the tapestry for too long or Magnus would switch places with the man! For indeed real men were trapped inside the tapestry's magical threads. Extradimensional magic!

We decided to attempt to retrieve the Seren human from the tapestry and Sorrel dragged in the slave to swap with the Seren. Magnus, Aleae, and Kard were very uncomfortable with forcing him to do this, but we promised to take the tapestry back with us and return the man to Fairhaven, the capital of Aundair, where his family was. Although Kard was particularly against this course of action, Sorrel was much in favor, and stated that if the man did not submit to this, he would slay him. Kard, perhaps because he is duty-bound to a religious order, once again spoke in the man's defense, allowing for neither the death or the imprisonment of the man.

In fact, this would be the only means of rescuing him from the chains of his bondage. At last, after Kard vowed to liberate the man afterwards, the slave gave consent. He thanked Kard, then stared into the tapestry. Within a minute's time he was transposed with a short, dense and lean-muscled human with reddish-dark skin and white tattoos covering his body. Sahlessh, the white-painted Seren, likewise had white hair and a narrow tied beard. He was not very forthcoming with information. Magnus talked with him and made common references but Sahlessh was cautious to not divulge too much and he seemed especially distrusting of Magnus!

We determined that he was a monk from a tribe on Seren with an affinity for the cold-breathing white dragon and that he had been trapped in the tapestry almost a year ago by Hiraz.

Sahlessh asked us a lot of questions but he followed along as we went to clear out the rest of the rooms on this floor. Sorrel and Sahlessh spoke briefly beyond our hearing, then the oni left us to investigate deeper levels of the structure but not before telling us about a carpet that his brother was rumored to have made. Woven into the carpet was a teleportation circle that allowed swift passage between Glyphstone Keep—here, well within Breland's borders—and the Tower of Shrouds in Droaam. That I cannot abide, especially if the Avashad had allied himself with harpies and who knew what else!

We continued our exploration. As Aleae, Clarion, and Kard studied the pool and glowing chalice in the vast central chamber, in one of the rooms on the north side, I found a writing desk and noticed indentations in the papers stacked there had been used for notetaking. I grabbed some ash from a room that was completely burned of any evidence and used my expended griffon feather to dust the indentations for information. This yielded the words “Children of Winter” and “Frost,” the latter as a proper noun.

As I finished gathering evidence in the writing room, I heard the telltale shout of impending battle from outside the room. Sahlessh was calling out. I quickly tucked the remaining ash and feather into one of my many pockets and readied my magical whip, the Tongue of Hrasta, for battle.

#83 - Enter the Weaver

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

We were safe and confined in a clean space but we weren’t clean. The smell from the globs and smears of the ghouls’ blood and flesh, still caked on our armor, was just awful. It kept me awake for a few minutes, listening to Irakas and Cypher talk and make a map of our floor here underground. Her time sitting in the throne and wearing the Emperor’s Key medallion had given her awareness of this level’s dimensions. I scraped the smelliest bits off me and then drifted off to sleep to the sound of Cypher unpacking and re-packing all his stuff.

When we woke up, hours later, again we had improved in our manifestation of the dragon in each of us, new spells and new abilities.  I am feeling more durable than ever. The smell from the undead slime on us all was overpowering and we were all ready to leave. Except Irakas.

She wanted to stay near the throne and study the “altar” here. When we asked for the Emperor’s Key back, she suggested that she would like to stay here, with the Key and her guards and try to learn more about the keep. She even suggested that if we were to find the scepter that once filled the empty brackets on the altar, her knowledge and power here might grow. The awful smell kept the conversation short.  It might be useful to have the Key with us to open doors and stuff, but having her here, learning more and guarding the one safe place we have found would be better still.  She escorted us past the bronze golem and there we discovered some skeletons and a corpse (obviously killed by the golem) lying in a puddle of blood before it.  Someone had come looking for us and died. The corpse had been a living man, and had been cut in half by the golem’s glaive.

In looking at the corpse, we noticed that he was a member of the Emerald Claw, a mercenary group dedicated to its own (evil) purposes. What are they doing down here? As Simel drew in for a closer look and lifted the body to examine it, we all noticed that the inside of Simel’s reversible cloak was the same color as the Emerald Claw’s green uniform.  He said he used it as a disguise to kill Claw members in the past. We still do not know much of his story. He seems to look forward to killing members of the Claw here underground. We agree on that at least.

We left Irakas and made our way to the curtain, feeling very exposed here in the giant throne room.  We sidled along the edge and up to the massive curtain where Cypher sent Rungo up to the ceiling to scout ahead. As he cleared the room/ hallway beyond the curtain, we followed along.  As we made our way, and approached the wall of rooms, we heard music coming from the weaver’s room—the room where the chained man had been. Using “stealth” (as we understand it), we entered the rug room and then Kard opened the weaving room to see what was going on. The chained man pointedly ignored him. The whole group entered and Cypher unlocked a few more doors.

Not all onis look the same, but most are big,
blue/purple, and carry massive swords.

As the group went over the room again, I lied down on the bed (why didn’t we sleep here?), it did seem like someone slept here recently. Kard suggested I look around and I peeked under the bed. Seeing a spear, I grabbed it but it sprouted spikes.  I dropped it and let the group have a look. Soon enough I poke it back under the bed as we are deciding to leave.

I head out into the hallway with Cypher.  I hear Aleae talking about the jar she had seen in the chest full of cloth, and she started to rummaging about for it. Just then a new voice speaks. “There is no need for violence,” I heard it say after something else. I spared a peek into the room and see a silk-clad oni with fangs and flowing garments, and a very larger curving sword. A large, shimmering white-clear hand had appeared and wrapped itself around Aleae, holding her in place. Threatening to squeeze. She did not like that! Kard tried to negotiate with the oni, whose spell, he assured us, could snap her bones easily. The oni spoke as though this was his home and we had trespassed. Aleae started scolding him about keeping a creature (the human) chained.  The oni asked the party to drop their weapons as were obviously the group that has been killing and making messes all around here.  The party refuses and the oni raised scimitar to strike. Aleae was bound to be crushed by the conjured, disembodied hand.

The battle began just as Cypher and I heard, then saw some creatures headed our way down the hall. Cypher called Dar for light and Rungo reported some kind of beaked creature walking towards us. The creatures were lit up by my torch as they got closer and Dar casted her entangling vines spell on the two large creatures. They had shelled backs like giant beetles and huge sweeping blades built into their arms where hands should have been.  I don’t know what they were but they didn’t quite seem like the abominations we have fought. No tentacles or slime. But they were something new to kill!

While the rest of the party was dealing with the oni—lots of spells going off, and Aleae somehow just magically stepped from inside the closing fist to a space fifteen feet away—I charged the two beaked creatures and landed a jumping smash on the one that was not held in vines.  Flames and ice flashed brightly as I took on the aspect of greatest of dragons!  It withstood my two blows from Defiler’s Bane but will still rather pulped.  Rungo, Dar, and Cypher rushed in to help kill it.

After some more fighting, the oni flew out into the hallway and blasted Cypher and Dar with a lightning bolt. Both avoided the worst of it. One of the hooked, beaked things died and we turned on the other. Having foughtan oni in the arenas of Droaam, I knew that its spells will make it very hard to kill.  I intended to try.

Then a black, misty darkness began to envelop the oni, and I felt an unpleasant sensation in the palm of my hand.

#82 - The Glyphstone Throne

The elf-vampire-witch was a frozen paste on the wall. There were desiccated corpses loping our way and I moved over to smash one, and Rungo joined me. And then another. 

The fight was moving quickly and, I thought, nearly over. We were all retching and gagging from the smell of rot coming from the ghouls. Suddenly, behind us, Dar was attacked by the regenerating corpse of the elf thing. Pasting her wasn't enough, it seemed, and so the druid had blood sucked out of her shoulder. I moved over and mauled it once again, freezing it to the giant black curtain that hung on one side of this wide corridor. Seeing the ghouls were being dealt with, I tore her pasted-again corpse and headed back into the rug room. If mashing and freezing wouldn't kill her, maybe a big fire would. I know fire stops trolls from regenerating.

I walked into the room and threw her corpse on a pile of rugs. I splashed some oil on the body and then got ready to leave by pulling Aleae’s silver arrow and grabbing a useful everburning torch from the wall (not hot, just light). As I crouched down to strike some sparks into the oil, Clarion entered and interrupted me. He advised that he thought beheading would stop her visible re-growth. This was fine by me. He chopped off her head and doused the thing with holy water. The flesh and hair melted from the skull completely, and the ruin of her body stopped regenerating. He offered the elf-vampire skull to me and I accepted. He and I thought that this must me some kind of servant vampire since she seemed to lack all the vampiric powers we have seen at least once before. I hope that she is a servant of the hobgoblin vampire from Palurr Draal and that he will be sad when I stuff the skull up his nose.

Back in the hallway, we decided that we should go beneath the curtain to the throne room with ideas about using the Emperor’s Key to help with the big metal statue that Aleae had told us about. And maybe could access a place to hide. When we went under, we found ourselves in the largest chamber I have ever been in. Well, perhaps only the second largest. There was one that might have been greater that Cypher and I have been to.

A ziggurat and its throne dominated the far side of the room, which must have spanned three hundred feet from side to side. Dim purple lights in the corners gave us just enough to see our way around. The statue standing at the base of the steps at the throne was tall, bronze, and dangerous-looking if it really did move. Big stands on both sides of the chamber suggested this room could have also been an arena once.

We were thinking of seeking shelter behind one of the large stands, in hopes of resting undiscovered, but Irakas was once again worried about the messes we were leaving behind (we do often do that) and how it would make our enemies seek us out all the more. However, the she-hobgoblin did have one idea we found intriguing: According to her lore, whoever commands the throne of a goblin fortress also commands knowledge of the fortress itself. She believed that if one of us were to ascend the stairs and sit upon the throne, using the Emperor's Key. (We casually refer to it as such, but to newcomers like Simel and Dar, they see us discussing a bronze medallion.)

Immediately, Cypher volunteered. 

Irakas said he needed to go with confidence to convince the magic that he was the rightful ruler of this place and had the right to command the power of the Key. Irakas offered to do it, but Clarion also offered to be the one. Won’t the magic know that they are constructs?  They are not hobgoblins, as the rulers of Glyphstone once were. We have used it in the past, though. Cypher would do that now.

Cypher walked up the statue, which moved into a defensive position.  He commanded it to “Stand down.”  It made no move.  Cypher made his past it, climbed the steps, and sat upon the Dhakaani throne. Nothing seemed to happen and he returned shortly afterwards. If nothing else, the Emperor's Key protects the wearer from the golem, but it does not seem to allow us to command it.

In the meantime, we have gotten too close to the statue and it had advanced upon us with its massive glaive held up to strike. We backed up. Seeing Cypher return, Irakas once again suggested that she would be the one to use the Emperor's Key.  We had second thoughts. But somehow, to me, she seemed in earnest. She has been very clear that she believes that she should return the Key to the “rightful” owners (hobgoblins).

This may be her quest just as the rescue of Seren is mine. The Key came to us seemingly accidentally and we have kept it from dark forces. It may be time to let it go. Irakas may be a more rightful keeper than we are, she has the most legitimate claim (she is a hobgoblin given the task).

Maybe she will restore order to this abandoned keep, overrun with dark beings. Maybe she is the rightful one. I am not planning to spend my life restoring this keep, but certainly the world would benefit if it was. I let the party know that I think she should have it.  It seemed that others have similar thoughts and, for the first time since we rescued the Key, we turned it over to another. Irakas accepted it slowly and thanked Cypher for the trust. Her two remaining guards were immediately more content to see it in her possession. 

The Emperor's Key

The dirge singer placed it around her shoulders and walked past the bronze golem, up to the throne, and sat down. I didn't know what happened up there but she appeared to look around the chamber as if we weren't there, as if she was looking at a different place or time. While we were standing dumbly at the golem's feet, some of us heard noises of marching and troops. Clarion messages the information about the party with his magic. We were in no condition to fight anything like soldiers.

Clarion then messages Irakas and she seemed to notice us again. She pointed to a corner at the base of the ziggurat itself and we all met there. As she arrived, she pushed on an unseen panel in the wall and a secret door is revealed. We entered, closed the door and Irakas lead us to a hall and a chamber situated directly beneath the throne.

“We are safe here," she said. "We can rest.” There are no beds, but I am ready to sleep anywhere. The floor welcomed me as I hear Cypher digging into his pack, looking for paper and ink to write down and sketch whatever it is that the hobgoblin woman learned.

#81 - The Trappings of the Weaver

After disabling the undead beholder and its minions, Aleae, Clarion, and I walked over to the pool in the center of the large expanse. In the center of the 80-foot-diameter pool was a platform with a large metal chalice atop. The chalice was glowing with magical light, the color changing periodically. As we got closer, I could tell that this chalice was quite large, possibly troll- or ogre-sized; to those of us who drink it would be more like a trophy than a useable drinking vessel. Clarion determined that the entire pool was a desecrated area—"unholy" in some respect—and by the look of the putrid, green-hued, tepid water I believed him.

Aleae and I were working out a plan to retrieve the chalice for further study that did not involve our having to enter the pool when Magnus flashed his lantern at us, indicating that he and Dar had discovered something in a room closer to where we entered this expansive room, this Chamber of Offering (as Irakas called it). He was clearly insistent so we made haste to the room. Dar said she heard something inside and the rattling of metal, possibly chain. I carefully picked the lock on the door, taking extra care not to make any sound.  Magnus rushed in to the room.

The room seemed to be both a bed chamber and weaver’s workshop. In the center of the room was a round table covered with swatches of colored cloth. In the corner was a huge, four-poster bed with grand red satin sheets, large enough for an ogre or the like. There was a loom and spindle and lots of raw materials for making fabrics. And attached to the table via heavy chain (non-magical, I would soon find out) was a human male. Interestingly, I noticed the human was garbed in rather expensive looking clothing that would normally have signified to me his association with the nobility of Aundair, had I met him anywhere else in the Five Nations. The clothing was a bit tattered to be sure, but undoubtedly Aundairian design. In a Draconic whisper I asked Clarion if he thought he could establish a rapport with the Aundairian, who looked significantly shocked and overwhelmed by our party of eleven. Clarion attempted to engage the man, being sure to expose his religious and Aundairian symbols, but with little effect. Possibly the man was too traumatized by his initial interaction, which was with Magnus who for some reason had simply walked into the room, mace in hand, and started gesturing at the human without speaking any words.

Magnus also spent an inordinate amount of time stealing glances at the large bed in the corner. For a human so driven to movement and violence, he is extremely fond of sleep.

Finally, Kard approached the man with words of compassion and understanding. Kard explained—rather well, I thought—to the man that we were not interested in hurting him and in fact would like to help him if we could. The Aundairian spoke back very deliberately and in a partially whispered voice in the Common tongue. He would not say his name when asked and was very distressed by our presence. He wasn’t very forthcoming with information but not, I guessed, by preference. I was able to discern only that he was somehow ensorcelled and if he were to reveal any information about himself or his captor, the captor in question would know of it immediately—and return.

Soon Irakas shuffled into the room abruptly and closed the door. "Something comes!" she has warned us. I picked the lock on one of the room's other doors which led to a torch-lit storage room full of elaborate carpets. We moved into that room, promising to come back for the captive Aundairian at another time. Temporarily quelling the magical lights, the hobgoblins peered out the northern door, for it looked back into the Chamber of Offering.

Irakas, with her darkvision, reported seeing a carrion crawler guided by a few smaller humanoids. Magnus and I had less-than-fond memories of the large, wormlike creatures not so long ago. The Seren especially, for he had been paralyzed by their mouth-tendrils in the past.

"Goblins?" she whispered, clearly disturbed by the idea that kindred members of her own race could be allied with our enemies. "But no, something is wrong with them." She would not say what. She only concluded with, "They are cleaning up." Then we closed the door to remain hidden.

After much discussion, we decided to attempt to rest in the carpet room. Almost completely devoid of magic and most of us in need of repair we were running out of options. I spiked the doors and inspected each lock to ensure that I could unlock them quickly if needed. The spikes would ensure us precious seconds should someone come and unlock one of the three doors in the room.

We were able to rest for over an hour, allowing some time for repairs, before an unknown party of creatures arrived outside one of the doors. When it was clear that we were found out, by one of the creatures exclaiming, “I smell living flesh!" I unlocked the door on the opposite side of the room, removed the iron spike, and Magnus rushed out of the room. Into a trap.

A slender but clearly undead elven woman sneaked up on Magnus and routed him with her unnatural claws. She even latched onto Kard and bit into his shoulder with her fangs. The vampiric elf proved to be a very sturdy opponent, but we were able to destroy her as a group. To be sure of her demise, I instructed Rungo to tear her corpus apart where it had been smashed, burnt, and frozen to the wall by Magnus's administrations. Kard had also doused her with holy water and that has so far proven an effective melter of undead flesh.

It was good that we destroyed her, because coming around the corner were more unknown enemies. Dar summoned an overgrowth of weeds and brambles to slow down the oncoming attackers.  And the battle continued.

#80 - The Chamber of Offering

Craving rest and healing, the PCs deliberated as to the next course of action: break through the thin wall of stone and attempt to conceal themselves there or seek safety elsewhere. Irakas only one partial solution but preferred to save it for another time when the party was deeper in the dungeons of Glyphstone: she possessed a small glass sphere which could replicate the Leomund’s Tiny Hut spell. While it could ensure the safety of nine individuals (there were 11 total),  the extradimensional dome it would conjure would not necessarily be concealed. It could be discovered.

Irakas was most worried that the group would be discovered if they didn’t find shelter soon: it had only been a short while since they slew the guardians at the entrance and their enemies would discover this.

Dar used her druidic magic to change into the shape of a small spider. She crawled through the hole in the stone wall to examine the space beyond. Another door lay behind it, and beyond that a circular, mostly-featureless chamber that contained only nine round depressions in the floor. When she entered the room in her human form, she felt a strange humming energy in the air. It was ultimately decided that this chamber wasn’t worth the risk entering.

A new plan was hatched. Dar once again used her druidic magic to bestow great stealth upon all of her allies, so long as they remained close to her (30 feet). Meanwhile, Aleae used a spell of invisibility to run reconnaissance alone. Given that a nearby room was occupied by undead creatures (according to Clarion), the PCs finally decided to seek safety somewhere beyond the vast central chamber lit by the fountain and chalice.

So Aleae went out into the dark, quieted and concealed with the assistance of an infusion placed on her garments by Cypher. Despite their earlier “disagreement,” the eladrin and the warforged still had a common goal of survival, perhaps even triumph.

Aleae explored the vast hall, discovering strange features and a large number of doors along its perimeter. She also discovered that a second, possibly even larger room lay further to the south beyond a great curtain—a throne room, occupied only by a towering statue of bronze-colored metal carved to resemble a Dhakaani hobgoblin warrior.

She also discovered what at present was patrolling these chambers: a decrepit beholder (larger than the previous one) trailed by three shambling human corpses. She evaded it for a time, but the beholder caught her scene and began to glide after her. The other PCs were closer now and detected the threat. Lit only by the dim glow of the color-shifting chalice at the center of the Chamber of Offering, a battle ensued.

Aleae blasted the floating abomination with powerful winds from her Wand of Wonder, while arrows and javelins were hefted at the enemy. The beholder, once illuminated by magical light (in the form of Rungo, bespelled with Cypher’s magic), turned out to be dead: or undead, as it were. Its large central eye was all but gone, ruined and withered, while most of its eyestalks were broken or shorn away. Yet the creature had some vestige of its power in life, and used a few remaining eyestalks to lay enemies low with deadly rays. Magnus was stricken by magical fear, while paralysis took hold of Cypher. Dar was narrowly avoid a ray of disintegration.

The zombies proved tougher than they looked, absorbing blow after blow and arrow after arrow. Clarion and Kard put their holy water to good use—the zombies were burned like acid by its touch. Despite his fear of the undead beholder, Magnus managed to lob a few javelins into its dead eye. Kard boldly ran up to it, flinging his holy water into the ruined orifice and creating a virtual cloud of foul evaporating dead flesh.

At last, the creature tumbled to the ground, and the zombies were pulped on the floor in the Chamber of Offering.

#79 - Bronze Doors and Stone Coffins

From the Leaves of Memory, the written musings of Loh, druid of the King's Forest

Last thing I recall was running up the wall to towards the beholder-thing. After that, nothing. When I came to, I was crumpled on the ground, and my body felt tingly and weird. 

I hate dungeons.

After Cypher, Magnus, and the others brought down the many-eyed creature, Irakas and her hobgoblins huddled around the body of one of their fallen comrade. His face was clearly burned by fire, probably from one of the beholder-kin's blasts. While my companions debated what to do next, I hovered by the dirge singer and eavesdropped on their conversation. They didn't want to move on without honoring the dead. They wanted to bury him but knew this wasn't the safest place to do so; instead, they were opting to burn the hobgoblin's body in the tunnel.

To me, this seemed like a horrible idea. It could attract more attention to our location and leave a clear sign of our having been there in the first place. I reported what I overheard to the others, who agreed with me that we needed to find another way. Fortunately, I was able to persuade Irakas to let me transform part of the tunnel wall into a coffin—to shape the very stone, something I had only recently learned to accomplish—so the body would be safe and she could hopefully return for it later.

The surviving hobgoblins helped move a pile of boulders that sat to the left of the giant, bronze double-doors. I fashioned part of the exposed wall into a passable coffin. After the hobgoblins disguised my work with the giant's boulders, Irakas and her bodyguards broke into a mournful song.

When they finally finished their not-so-discreet dirge, Cypher withdrew an amulet from one of his many pockets and placed it around his neck. In Goblin, he commanded the Emperor's Key to open the door, and, to my astonishment, that's exactly what happened. The ornate doors opened slowly, and beyond them we saw a dark hallway. Immediately across from us was another short passageway that ended with another door, but the areas to the right and left were more difficult to see.

The so-called
Emperor's Key

Cypher wanted to jam the goblin door so that it could not be opened except by us or so that no one could enter it from the other side, but Irakas insisted we were wasting our time. She seemed convinced that our use of the doors would be discovered no matter what, and so we had best not idle.

The hallway smelled faintly malodorous, and Clarion identified the presence of several undead to our right. Luckily, they were moving away from where we stood. But who is working in these tunnels that has a use for the undead? Such hideous beings are uncommon in the civilized parts of Breland, surely. As far as I know, only in faraway Karrnath is this particular necromantic practice used openly. In Breland, most people who animate the corpses of the dead are almost certainly an enemy. In the King's Forest we would tolerate no such abominations.

To our left was a vast open chamber lit by a dim, color-shifting light. Those who observed it from the corner saw that the source was a large chalice sitting upon a pedestal at the center of some kind of fountain. This was nearly one hundred feet away! That is how large the room was. I heard Irakas mutter to Cypher that this might have once been a "Chamber of Offerings" when Glyphstone Keep was still occupied by her ancestors.

Uncertain in these new surroundings, I scurried over to the short hallway across from the goblin doors. There, Semel had pushed open another door. Inside was a circular chamber with four lit candles standing before the painted images of four human warriors, each one adorning the back of one of the chamber's doors. This also did not seem like a safe place to be. Semel ventured inside, and found that the flicking candle began to dwindle, as fire does when it is starved of air. Semel uttered the likelihood that this was probably a trap of some sort. He existed, and closed the door with a shudder.

Stories of the dreaded beholder are far more numerous
than any actual known encounters with one.

In the dark and away from the sounds of the natural world, I felt dull and useless. I spent the previous battle paralyzed, and I was exhausted from shaping ancient rock into a stone coffin. My mind is loathe and too spent to encounter whatever horrors lurked in this place. We all needed rest.

Aleae reported to the rest of us that she had spotted a beholder-shaped creature floating in the dark hall to the left of the goblin doors. By he report, this one is much larger than the one we fought! Beholders used to be just stories, even in my youth. They were a creature of the depths and the distant past, not a real threat. But Aleae's spotting of one, or something like one, quickly helped us decide to walk the other way, toward the undead. Choice takes on a new meaning in these dark places.

We moved quietly through the tunnel, fortunately discovering that one branch of the hallway led away from where we suspected the undead had gone. We paused when we encountered two arcane sigils inscribed on what appeared to be a dead end. One was as simple message meaning "magical danger," and Cypher suggested the other was the unique signature of a wizard.

Upon closer inspection we noticed an uneven hole in the stone wall, about fist sized. When we shined light through it, we saw another door several feet beyond the wall. Now things really weren't making sense, but it did seem like the space between the wall and the hidden door offered a place for some rest if we could just get in there without being obvious about it. Irakas asked if I could get us through the wall with my magic.

"No," I said. "I used the last bit of magical energy I had making a resting place for your friend. I need to rest."

I can only hope my coffin-making services aren't required again any time soon.

#78 - Dangerous Dissent

Excerpt from the Personal Chronicles of Aleae Dyo'ionah Tiamah D'maii Dwin' Eytherarnith

Disgraceful events unfolded today. Cypher disappointed me. How a creature can exhibit so many signs of more than adequate intelligence and yet lack so harshly in wisdom, compassion, and manners is a disgrace. It took long for warforged to claim their freedom and step out of their existence as beings created in slavery. How he could not immediately see and appreciate the unbearable suffering another being endures if bound or enslaved is difficult for me to digest.

Simel, on the other hand, did not know better. A battle-steeled human and bounty hunter, he is not likely to appreciate such fine matters. He must have found the two glass binding orbs—which he somewhat proudly presented to us as possible weapons against our foes—on that horrid hag’s body; the one who had come by wyvern wing and who I felt obliged to embellish with a few gems, giving her at least an elegantly-adorned ending.

Immediately I could feel the agony and suffering of these sad air elementals rushing through me as they had been circling for times unknown within these orbs. There was no time to be wasted. I sprung into action to grab the orbs and free the elementals from their prisons as soon as possible.

Cypher managed to get a hold of one of the orbs and proceeded to walk away with it. I repeatedly told him that these elementals needed to be freed and that he should hand me the orb he was holding. No response. I warned him that I required him to give me the orb before I had counted to ten. No response. I counted down. No response. I did what I must.

A ray of cold energy sprang from my hand and burst the first sphere, releasing the elemental which moved through and past Cypher. I marveled at the beautiful creature beginning its rise towards its freedom in the skies.

Cypher had little reaction. Like a true mechanical being, he lacked empathy; taking a moment to contemplate what had played out and why eluded him. His next move was perfunctory, rushing in and grabbing the remaining bound elemental from my palm like a clodpate. He began to move away from me with the second orb, needlessly prolonging its release. When my demands that he return it were ignored, Cypher left me no choice but to shatter the space around him with a spell. The orb smashed into a thousand fragments. Cypher’s own construct form was dented and damaged by both the force of my words and a furious blow from the elemental. The tension lifted from my shoulders as it departed skyward.

Never can I stand idly by while another being–specifically one deserving our consideration–is held against its will. (And particularly if that being has such raw and wild grace as that of an elemental.) I am aware that elementals are not treated well on this plane, but I will do whatever I can, whenever I can, to put a halt to these atrocities. My life and that of my entire line is due to the goodness of elemental beings and that debt is eternal.

The wild powers that are woven through and allow me to change the structure of reality were forged within and founded upon my family’s past. More years ago than most timeless beings can hold in their minds, my ancestors studied the elemental energies that form and reform so much of the universe. They even devised a way to travel to the Inner Planes themselves, which comprise the respective Elemental Planes of Air, Fire, Earth, and Water. These missions were incredibly dangerous and only very few of my ancestors dared to explore the wild energy and powerful beings that roam its structure during the short bursts of time that their still-only-learned magic could keep them safe.

One day during that era, two young members of my family, Lyarea and Aleae (brother and sister twins, and one of them my namesake) were introduced to the secrets of travel between planes and prepared for the journey. Impatient and reckless they decided to venture to a junction of the Inner Planes by themselves before their full initiation.

Very quickly they found themselves in the embrace of millions of fiery elemental beings whose genuine curiosity began to steadily weaken the magic they had woven around them and which would not long withstand the onslaught of these raw energies. Overwhelmed by what they saw and only partially prepared for what was required to return to Thelanis, they were surely lost. An ancient and powerful being as old as the world itself, whose true name would take close to a year to speak, beheld my ancestors and took pity upon them. It brushed all else aside and held them in its embrace and vowed its protection. It is told that the being was so expansive and different from anything that could exist on our planes that they lived and viewed the world from within it. It appreciated them and found ways to sustain their life.

More than a century passed within which my family would return to the Inner Planes and actively search for any signs of the two lost souls. One day a research mission happened upon a vast swarm of fiery elementals and, just as they were about to return to the safety of Thelanis, they noticed two unusual figures amidst a strong wind that parted the fires around them. Slowly, the two figures approached them upon the path the winds had carved and fires roared as far as their eyes could see. At last the lost were found. On this day the two were given the name Dwin’ Eytherarnith (Walkers in Forests of Fire).

Upon their return they would discover that they had been forever changed. They felt powerful and wild magic flowing through them. A deep connection to the elemental forces of nature coursed through their veins. While they were able to control some of these energies, others were beyond their will and would bring about unforeseen events.

My lineage traces directly from Aleae the First, and my family has been a member of the Court of Rose and Thorn since its formation in times forgotten. If I make a request, I expect a response. I will not be ignored. If I set an ultimatum because I am treated discourteously, I will act upon my promise. It is my hope that Cypher learned that lesson today. Of course, I am not pleased that he was hurt, especially while we are working together to fight great evils lurking amidst the gloom ahead of us, but he left me no choice at this instance. I thought he was better than this.

Except for the very end, most of the events between Cypher and me were lost by the others as they were investigating the cave entrance. The loud noise created when I broke the second orb drew everyone's attention. Magnus immediately asked both of us how we could turn on each other like this and I could see that Clarion was equally filled with misgivings. I felt too hurt and distracted by what had just happened that I ignored Magnus and the others and began walking into the cave opening, onward into the dark and unknown.

As we marched slowly into the darkness of the tunnel—this allegedly secret entrance/exit to Glyphstone Keep—Clarion began to speak to me in my mind. Knowing my history, he could understand why I reacted so strongly when elementals were involved, but still deemed my actions, as he put it, “a bit excessive given the circumstances.” He did not understand why Cypher would not acknowledge any of my requests until I began using force. Still he insisted that I must speak with Cypher in the near future and tell him that I was sorry that he was hurt. We would talk about this at some point. Later. Possibly.

For a moment it crossed my mind whether Cypher’s behaviour had been linked to the dormant darkness that Clarion had warned me about? A shadow that could find its path into the minds of Cypher and Magnus via the marks they bear on their skin and which are unholy signs that they were touched by great evil?

We progressed in silence and without light through the passage leading from the cave entrance where we had left the body of the chimera, the fierce and magnificent beast whose existence we had ended unceremoniously. Musing through the depths of my mind I somehow found myself walking ahead with the hobgoblin Duur'kala, Irakas, and her protectors.

We came upon what appeared to be a three-way junction and Irakas pointed out the presence of a strange symbol on the floor ahead of us, a star with eight points which she believed to be of some significance. It was briefly observed more closely by some in our party but we prepared to press on once the absence of traps was established.

Immediately, we noticed the presence of some kind of creature lurking in the dark further down the path that had opened to our right, announcing itself through crude grunts and an odor reminiscent of half dead boars dipped in a swamp hag’s refuse.

Being the only ones able to see in this darkness except for the other hobgoblins, Irakas and I agreed to scout for the source of these odious signs of something disgusting. A deep and boorish voice bellowed from somewhere down the path. It was hard to decipher the words as they bounced and echoed along the walls. "SPEAK WATCHWORD!"

In silence, I messaged Clarion for I knew he might be able to read the creature's mind and possibly allow us to pass without a fight. Whatever had spoken was of simple mind and potentially easily tricked. Even if it did not work there was the potential for some much needed fun to be had.

Joined by Clarion we moved deeper down the passage. The voice spoke again: "Say watchword!" Clarion needed to get closer and see the creature in order to possibly learn its thoughts.

"Let me approach so that no one may listen," Clarion spoke with calm resonance into the darkness.

"Hurry," came the gruff reply.

Just then our shadows began to dance wildly across the walls ahead of us as what I discovered to be Rungo, the strange metal doglike contraption that accompanies Cypher, scurried along the walls with eyes brightly lit.

A large boulder crashed into the wall, clearly aimed for Rungo who continued unscathed. “Do not worry about the dog, he was just too excited,” Clarion replied.

Another boulder hit Clarion square on the chest causing a significant dent. “No need to break stone!” he answered, his voice resounding powerfully, yet trembling from the impact of the large rock. “We know the watchword. Let us approach so that no one may listen.”

What we could now slowly recognize as a large brutish unkempt hill giant standing before a set of tall bronze doors halted for a brief moment, another rock ready in hand. Clarion’s magic worked and it only took a few moments after he had gotten close to the giant that he exclaimed, “The watchword is Shadowcrag!”

The unpleasant features of the giant we were staring into lit up slightly in surprise. The giant dropped the rock he was holding atop the pile next to him and began fidgeting with an unusual scroll case set with a stone. “He will ask for our invitation,” I heard Clarion speak in my mind, a detail he must have gleaned from the shallow thought processes in which he was probing. A very quick display of what I considered an appropriate representation of our identification was insufficient.

I almost lost myself in the little dance I had the piece of conjured paper perform in mid-air. The giant involuntarily and clumsily joined in, grasping wildly in his pursuit of my illusion. A sense of relief was written upon his grim face as I allowed the paper to slip into the case. Then he took a look at the scroll case and stared at its inlaid gem. He was obviously anticipating something to happen, which I hastily tried to provide for his dim wits. It would appear though that the gem on the scroll case was not intended to blink. If I had devised the mechanism I would have made it blink. Clarion was immediately hit by the hill giant's massive club and a full battle ensued. Magnus, hungry for a battle, rushed ahead and began meeting the legs of the hill giant with the icy weapon within which the spirit of another giant dwells.

In the fight against such foe, I believed Clarion and Magnus to be highly effective at drawing the might of the giant so I empowered them with the speed of the wind, allowing them to hastily double up on our feeble-minded foe while I would stand back behind the ranks of our allies. A mighty blow reached for me from the large brute but Clarion was able to raise his shield against it, allowing for my safe retreat.

Not long after battle had begun, an unnatural change came upon the already odious atmosphere in these close quarters. A strange creature, one in many ways resembling a beholder but smaller than those horrid creatures of legend, had descended from an open shaft somewhere in the ceiling of the room where the giant had awaited us and was unleashing a barrage of ray attacks, repeatedly searing Clarion.

One blast ushered Magnus into a mortal sleep. One of the hobgoblins dropped to the floor with another scathing ray and I swiftly found more than half of our companions staring up at the creature's massive central eye, stupefied, obviously drawn into some kind of trance. Although the giant had succumbed to our combined onslaught, the creature from above worried me. I had decided to return its favors and sent rays of magic at it, but it seemed that the creature possessed a counterspelling ray with one of its flailing eyestalks. We had to end this aberration quickly or perish amidst the filth and dust of these dark passages.