Epilogue

The procession through Fireshear’s north gate was silent, unchecked by guards.

Bonie walked with a heavy limp, for two days having refused Vicus’ offer of letting the supply cart relieve her burden. Her right leg had been shorn open from hip to knee after slipping on a foothold making the climb down into the chasm after Zeb, Audric, and Nerrick failed to return. Near the bottom, with a flickering torch in hand, she discovered all that she needed to see.

Her memories of the hours since were tattered, strands of a broken web. Lying sleepless in blood-soaked bandages; the proffering of a bone fetish from a slender hand; high winds and a flash snowstorm battering weary travelers on their descent along a mountain trail.

The remaining party numbered seven: Bonie, Lom, Arcon and Raganok Tunterhorn, and engineers Vicus, Tirynia, and Smedlock, along with their mule and cart. Selben had slipped away into the forest a few miles outside the city. Vonn Wintershade had gone missing shortly thereafter.

Lom imparted that he would seek Revenant, bearing the news of their return. The Tunterhorns saw Bonie safely to Moonmaiden, then took their leave in search of Captain Azurris. Alone, Bonie trudged into the party’s quarter. The beds were unmade, untouched since the morning of the group’s departure for the mine. She collapsed upon the plank floor, clutching a trembling palm over her abdomen.

* * *

In the Captain’s Quarter aboard Moonmaiden, Shantor Ilfaen regarded Dame Azurris with a dour expression. “With Audric and Zeb gone, how fares your planning?”

The captain eyed the walls of the chamber with suspicion, as if scouring them for invisible, unwanted ears. “They were paramount to the endeavor. Honorable, staunch allies, greatly skilled in magic. Qualities not easily found... nor replaced.”

“And of the girl? She’s not eaten in days. Will you speak to her?”

“Aye. Though to what end, I know not. If our intended journey was foolhardy before, it’s naught but a death wish now. Still, I see in her... my daughter.”

The captain lowered his gaze, raised a closed fist to his lips and kissed an iron ring adorning its smallest finger. “Angeline.”

“I take my leave of you, Captain,” said the lieutenant, turning for the door.

“We must set sail,” Azurris answered. “No matter the circumstances.”

* * *

Lom watched from the bow of the merchant ship Vainweather as Moonmaiden’s newly-repaired third mast disappeared over the horizon, still docked in Fireshear’s harbor. If all went according to plan, Captain Azurris would see the vessel launched within a fortnight, embarking on an ambitious journey from which he and his stalwart crew would be unlikely to ever return.

By that time, Lom and Bonie will have safely put into port in Neverwinter, ahead of the winter snows.

The woman at his side was frail, docile, and barely spoke. Gaunt from malnourishment, Lom couldn’t bear to see her left to her own devices, nor could he abandon her in Fireshear whilst signing himself onto a reckless voyage across the Trackless Sea. Azurris had been disappointed, but understood: the collective loss borne by the party cut deep, would change all their lives forever. The captain knew well the shackles of grief.

Bonie lurched forward suddenly, stumbling to the bow’s rail and spewing bile over its edge. Lom reached out and collected her supple body. Shaking, her eyes fluttered, then closed. She crumpled into his arms, unconscious.

* * *

The deadfall around them instilled a preternatural sense of calm as they made their march over frozen earth, along the lightly-beaten trail that forked to the northeast near the site that would come to be known as Minstrel’s Glade. Bonie stepped lithely despite the extra weight she now carried, which had required her to relinquish her trademark dark leathers for a loose-fitting kirtle and woolen traveling cloak. Lom traipsed steadily several paces ahead, the ranger forging their path over familiar ground. Whilst the pair had conversed little in the aftermath of their departure from Fireshear, an unspoken bond had brooded between them, at least insofar as their present course was concerned.

The year had come to a close quickly; Bonie could recall few details of the months past, and fewer still that she cared to recount. The summer voyage christened Mirabar Run seemed an old relic of a forgotten life, and in many ways, it was. She dwelt not upon such things, however, for doing so ushered forth a torment too harrowing to be permitted to draw breath.

As they crested a final hillock, a crenellated tower came into view, and beyond it, a river. Along its banks was pitched a scattering of tents and cottages amid life-giving bonfires and a retinue of would-be villagers. A single word burgeoned its way to the forefront of the woman’s thoughts.

Home.

* * *

1256 DR (The Year of the Dusty Throne)

The cold night festered, and Bonie once again found sleep elusive. She emerged from the tent shared with Odesia and Young Laerch, taking special care not to disturb the latter, and made her way across the grounds, wrapping herself in thick furs. Atop a small ridge stood her quarry: a shrine constructed from worked stone and branches, bearing intricate carvings, symbols of beast, magic, and claw. The site had been well-tended in the party’s absence, and better still since her return. Bonie looked upon its etchings and adornments with a piercing stare.

“How could you!” she screamed, sweeping a booted foot in a high arc and pummeling the sacred structure, scattering its plumage on the snow-covered ground. Losing her balance, she landed firmly on her back, eliciting a deep groan. “How could you leave me, Zeb?” she sobbed, warm tears streaming in rivulets down her frosted cheeks as pain from the fall coursed through her body. 

“How could you leave us?” she uttered, her voice barely a whisper, to the dead of night surrounding her. “I never had a chance to tell you.”

Darkness claimed her.

* * *

(Year unknown)

The vision of the woman lying prone and anguished next to the broken shrine of Mystra and Malar awakened him, awakened them both.

Bonie’s final words echoed in Zeb’s mind.

Audric was the first to stir, the crushing pain and sense of weightlessness dissipating as he rose. Wherever he stood was pitch black, though he could feel wet stone beneath his boots and detected the nearby presence of his companion. The horrific encounter with the undead creatures returned to his consciousness, but he noted that, despite feeling utterly disoriented, he bore no wounds. Strangely, he yawned, as if having just woken from a long sleep.

Zeb staggered to his knees, and the pair searched their collective belongings for a torch, finding that those they still possessed were too wet to carry a spark. Instinctively, Zeb entered a trance-like state for several minutes, and when he came to he conjured a magical orb of light, just above their heads.

They stood, alone, in the cave below the chasm. The putrid smell of rot and death was absent, as were any signs of Nerrick, or anyone else. Their weapons and armor were intact, though Audric’s splint mail was weighted down with algae-ridden water.

They regarded each other quizzically, trying to make sense of it all.

They discerned no answers.

#45: To The Victors

A brief patrol of the camp does little to ease my ill temper.  Upon return, I find the others gathered around the remnants of last evening’s fire, and we enter a discussion about our course of action. 

Vonn makes his position known that he intends to use this as an opportunity to retire from a life of adventuring—he intends to live off the proceeds from the mine and shows little interest in exploring the chasm or the origin of our demonic foe.  He was contracted to oversee construction of the bridge and removal of any evident threat, and that accomplished, he considers his service to Revenant complete.  Vonn expresses his desire for a life of seclusion and study.  It is hard to argue with him, though leaving the chasm unexplored does not sit well with me.  He commits to guarding the camp for the remainder of our stay.

Audric, for his part, wants the bridge constructed safely first before pursuing any further conversation about the chasm.  Before we can discuss it further, we are interrupted by one of the dwarven guards.  “When do we go back in?” he asks gruffly, “so that Clanden will not have fallen in vain?”

“Right now,” Audric states, pulling himself to his feet, and the dwarf seems to appreciate the response and call for action.  The dwarf introduces himself as Nerrick, and confirms that the engineers are ready, so we do not delay.

Tirynia, one the female engineer, steps forward to volunteer herself for the critical first task of securing the remnants of the bridge, and we elect to assist her magically as we did Clanden.  We leave the Tunterhorns to guard the camp, joined by Vonn and Smedlock, another of the dwarven guards accompanying the crew.  I impart one additional protection on Tirynia: a ward similar to that which protected us during the battle with the demon that should hopefully prevent a fate similar to Clanden’s should we find our position besieged once again.

To their credit, the engineers are eager to conduct their duties and seem to pay little regard to the Clanden’s loss or to the danger that could possibly be involved with today’s mission.  They are orderly and professional, so we do our best to protect them in their endeavors.   There’s a palpable moment of fear as we watch Tirynia pull herself towards the middle of the chasm across the single remaining rope, bolstered by what magical assistance we can provide.  I work through a divination, this time focusing on the depths of the chasm, knowing that Clanden’s death could have been avoided had we been more alert of our surroundings and potential threats, but detect nothing untoward.

The first tense minutes pass without incidence, and by the time our spells begin to fade, Tirynia seems well into her task and we release a heavy sigh of relief.  Vicus runs for supplies that are fed through the shaft, and when Tirynia is finally done with her work, she returns with sweat dripping from her brow.  The bridge has been successfully stabilized, and with the sun now high in the sky, we break for a midday meal.

The engineers feel that by the end of this first day, should all go well, they may be able to get someone safely across to the other side of the cavern.  We contemplate setting a guard on the opposite side of the bridge, but until the bridge is complete enough to support multiple people crossing at a time, splitting the group seems rash, so we decide to continue along the conservative route of watching over the construction from the ledge nearest the shaft.

As the engineers progress in their work, we interact with the dwarven guard Nerrick, who has taken post beside us in the cavern.  Nerrick has a history of working mines and other construction projects, seeming to be an axe for hire.  He reveals that he’s from the Undercity of Mirabar originally, and Audric and I cast wary looks at one another.  Fortunately, it seems as if his family ties are weak, the likelihood of any connection between Nerrick and anyone we may know small.  We decide not to relate our experiences in the Undercity and leave it at that.

“After I saw what happened to Clanden, I wanted to do more to serve the lord Moradin, and better protect those that pay me to do so.”  He explains the impact that Clanden’s death had on him and reveals it as the reason that he stepped forward to join us in our vigil.  “I’d like to put my axe to better use.”   He composes himself as a classic Frozenfar warrior whose axe bears the notches of many battles, and we are glad for his company.

Work is completed late in the day and the engineers and laborers collapse into their bedrolls.  The rest of us oversee the camp throughout the night, granting them the ability to rest and regain their strength.  Bonie lets me know that she has no desire to share a watch with Nerrick; I raise an eyebrow questioningly, but she waves me off.  We split up into watches, much as we have done before, and the night passes uneventfully.

We are greeted the following morning by the welcome warmth of the sun in the clear sky, but it does not last long—clouds roll in and gather, and a chill rain makes any time outside the cavern a cold and uncomfortable experience.

With the bridge repair proceeding rapidly, Nerrick, Audric and I decide to explore the base of the chasm.  Rope is in ample supply, so we tie together three lines so that we can rappel down the cliffside simultaneously—ropes will be secured above and watched over by Bonie, Lom and Selben as we descend.  I layer magical protection against any potential threat.

Audric and I are able to manipulate the rappelling lines without a problem, but Nerrick seems unaccustomed to being off his feet and can do little more than dangle helplessly, unable to navigate the descent.  Selben steps forward when called, casting a spell upon Nerrick to make it possible for him to nimbly scale the cliffside, much as Selben had done days before.

Blackness overtakes us as flickering light from the torches above fades.  Nerrick, by virtue of his heritage, alerts us that he can see the bottom of the chasm floor and that it ends in a body of water below.  He also sees an opening across the way—an opening of thirty to forty feet in diameter, seeming to be a cave entrance.  The ropes drop into a pool at the base of the chasm, and investigating it, I find the water too deep to stand—some sort of underground lake or pool.  Knowing that Nerrick’s time under Selben’s enchantment is short, we decide to retrace our steps and clamber back up the chasm wall, Nerrick beating us in our ascent handily by virtue of Selben’s craft.

We cross the chasm using the bridge—the engineers seem pleased that it passes this test of sturdiness.  We decide to descend from the other side, this time with me leading the way.  I proceed into the black with magical detections and protections in place, using my feet to feel along the chasm wall until I find the opening and calling out to the others when I do.

I trust in my magical protections and drop to the cave entrance— the ground is wet and slick.  My boots land in the muck, but I catch myself and avoid falling to the ground.  My divinations reveal that there are four concealed beings in the cave lurking against the walls in the darkness ahead, the closest fifty feet from the entrance, the furthest perhaps a hundred.  I conjure forth a globe of light behind the nearest of the unknown creatures, and the cave bursts into blinding illumination, the dark suddenly and completely dispelled. 

A humanoid figure is revealed—its flesh deteriorated to sinew, bits of tendon and muscle, its eye sockets black and empty.  It stands with a hunch, and as soon as my light bursts forth from behind it, the creature stands and begins to shamble towards me, pinpoints of red light beginning to gleam from its empty eye sockets.  I am frozen in place for a moment but manage to shake off the surprise and grab for the rope, calling to be hoisted up.  My feet slip as I ascend in a panic, but eventually I find my footholds and, assisted by the others above me, reach the safety of the ledge.

Evaluating our options, Nerrick decides to remove his armor so that he can more readily attempt the descent under his own power.  He and I hoist Audric down first—the Mystran warrior’s intention is to conjure a group of foes for the creature below to deal with, or to ascertain if indeed the threat still lurks within the cave entrance.  He manages to find firm footholds and, supported by the rope to free his hands, conjures forth his minions.

Audric is greeted by the sound of myriad flapping bats whose screeches echo throughout the cavern—but the sounds are quickly stifled, and nothing answers Audric’s call to return.  Whatever lurks below, it slaughtered the conjured minions quickly.  We pull Audric back to the ledge, and not wanting to submit the engineers to any risk, decide to call an end to operations for the day.  We enlist the aid of the engineers to effectively barricade the tunnel and split up for watches—this time with the knowledge that a threat resides in the chasm.  Knowing nothing more of the caves, or any alternate exits that the creatures may have access to, our rest is uneasy.

Partway through the night, the silence disturbed by the sounds of screams from outside.  An alarm is sounded by the evening watch, and in the sudden scramble of being awakened in the middle of the night, the members of the camp are assaulted by spears from multiple angles.  Vonn is pierced by a thrown javelin, falling backwards as he grasps its shaft, and Vicus and Tirynia are felled by the missiles.  Lom and Bonie can see nothing clearly enough to find targets in the dark, cursing in frustration as they are forced to watch the assault below.

Selben retreats from the area illuminated by the bonfire, taking cover behind a nearby minecart.  Bonie and Lom hold arrows to their cheeks, waiting for targets and clearly torn by their inability to provide more effective protection.  A pack of vicious goblins overruns the camp, hurling more javelins and spears as they approach. 

The Tunterhorns raise weapon and shield in defense.  Nearly a dozen goblin forms are visible in the shadows cast by the bonfire.  Arcon and Raganok deflect several missiles with their shields but are unable to ward off all, bearing the brunt of the goblins’ attacks, each pierced by several shafts.  Selben manages to evade harm and find words and gestures to power a spell upon his lips.  The Tunterhorns return strikes as the goblins charge, flailing at their enemy wildly and felling one of the creatures.  Vonn unleashes a spell in the night, but it’s unclear what effect it may have had.  Another pair of goblins fall to the remaining members of Clanden’s crew and the Tunterhorn brothers. 

The goblins continue their assault as Bonie levels her bow, ready to loose arrows into the melee.  Audric struggles to climb down but finds trouble manipulating the ropes in the panic while Nerrick uses a rope to quickly descend, landing heavily on the dirt below.  A furious melee ensues with blows traded on both sides.

Suddenly, all but two of the remaining goblins collapse, Selben standing from cover to weave an enchantment.  I unleash one of my own, freezing in place those that did not succumb to Selben’s spell.  The Tunterhorns seize the moment and begin hacking away at their foes, Smedlock at their side, slaughtering the sleeping and held goblins.   Bonie and Lom look to the wounded to staunch bleeding and bind wounds—they manage to catch Tirynia just before death.  Vicus was mortally wounded as well, but any loss of life is prevented as Audric bends down to administer magical healing.

After our triage of the situation is complete, additional guards are posted throughout the night, and when morning comes, we turn once again to the wounded, discussing plans as best we can with Vicus and Tirynia.  Another full day of work is required with a complete crew in order to finish repairs on the bridge.  Audric intends to complete the magical healing that he started, and I commit to helping to the extent I’m able.  We decide to delay our return expedition into the cave below and see to the care of our wounded.  A roaring fire is built to allow those that need it to get the warmth and rest they need.

A few coins and other valuables are recovered from the fallen goblins as we pile their bodies into a shallow pit, the capable among us heaping rocks atop them.  We consider ourselves fortunate that all survived the attack, and the spirits of the engineers and others in the camp seem high despite the danger.  Audric works well into the night completing his ministrations to those wounded in preparation of tomorrow’s work.  We decide to leave the tools below and bring the most valuable commodity we have—the lives of the engineers—into the tunnels where we can more directly watch over them.  The mule is left below, but we are fortunate and the night passes without further incidence.

The following morning, we are greeted by a moderate and growing wind, the temperature dropping severely.  This makes us feel better about our decision to move everyone into the cave where we can keep fires burning to keep everyone warm, and where all are protected from the cutting wind.  With the intention of completing repairs on the bridge, we remove the barricade and climb through the shaft once again.  I conjure light ahead of me but see no threat, so Nerrick and Audric follow as we investigate for signs of danger.  Audric crosses the bridge safely, inspecting it against any damage that may have occurred, but finds nothing.  We bring the engineering crew in to continue their work.

Peering into the black below, I focus my magical senses to where I know the cave entrance to be and feel a sense of evil emanating from the fell opening.  It’s almost as if the creatures haven’t moved for days, lurking silently and stilly near the cave entrance.  We turn our discussion towards ridding the cave of the unnatural threat.

As we split the group and begin to make magical preparations, Lom steps forward, offering Nerrick his enchanted axe.  Having encountered undead before, it is known that mundane weapons are sometimes of little or no use—a mighty gift indeed.  “Just make sure I get it back,” Lom imparts.

Several minutes are spent layering what protections I can bring to bear on myself and others in preparation for our descent and likely melee.  When we eventually drop down, we find our foe much as we expect to, standing silently in the tunnel entrance.  With a globe of light emanating from my own enchanted weapon, we clamber along the ceiling of the cave—once again, Selben’s craft has proven useful indeed.  The creatures twitch and are quick to track our movements, moving swiftly to match our progress into the cave.  Once again trusting in my protections, I drop to the cave floor to attract their attention, buying time for Audric and Nerrick to descend and prepare for combat.

The creatures race towards me with hissing maws and raking claws but are shunted away by my abjurations.  My heart beats in my chest as I stand and face them, the creatures content to wait in lifeless silence as my allies prepare for assault.

A wave of nausea overwhelms us as two other creatures approach, the cave’s air thick and stifling.  While we seize the initiative, none of us are able to land effective strikes.  Nerrick and I fend off attacks, though Audric is scratched by one of the creatures and is nearly overcome by wracking paralysis before managing to shake it off.  The true danger of our foes lies not in their claws and fangs, but in their ability to steal our freedom of movement.

I spare a moment during the melee to gesture towards the cave entrance and the water beyond, asking if perhaps retreat is the better course of action.  Audric and Nerrick both shake their heads, seeming eager to put an end to this threat.

Unfortunately, the tides of battle do not turn in our favor.

We are assaulted by claws which seem to come from all angles.  Both Nerrick and Audric manage to avoid succumbing to paralysis after being struck, Audric managing to stand strong despite several landed attacks.  Another of the creatures tears into me, rending my magical protections and flesh, though an abjuration yet remains that protects me from the paralyzing effect of its claws.

Sensing a need for allies, Audric withdraws from the melee to conjure forth minions, though not before receiving yet another attack from the creatures and shaking off its effect.  Nerrick crushes into one of the undead as four small creatures appear—kobolds, each armed with tiny spears or cleavers—and they begin hacking into our enemy.  One of the undead is run through by a tiny spear, but it only snarls in response, clawing at the kobold.

All four of them are slaughtered in an instant as we each land heavy blows upon our enemy.  Our attacks are spread out in the chaos of melee, however, and we are beset by our foes relentlessly.  Audric is struck again and again, each time managing to fight off their paralyzing touch, though our own attacks are wild and ineffective, failing to effectively wound or cripple any of them.

Turning a questioning look to my comrades once again, I can see that they are overtaken with bloodlust.  Unwilling to abandon them, I raise my maul and we counter the attacks of the creatures.  Audric finds purchase, his enchanted sword cleaving one of them in twain.  His victory is but a momentary relief, however, as Audric is struck back twice in return. 

Nerrick, as well, is wounded by claw and fang… though this time, the dwarven warrior’s resilience proves unequal to the attacks, and he is overcome by paralysis.  Two of the creatures descend on Nerrick and feast upon his helpless form, one dislocating Nerrick’s shoulder as it tears mouthfuls of the dwarf’s flesh away and his blood sprays whilst the other rips into his torso.

Audric and I, overwhelmed by nausea, wounds, and now a growing sense of defeat, are unable to land return attacks of our own.  Our foes seize initiative once again, one of them nearly disemboweling me with its claws.  Bright light flashes behind my eyes as I call out a weak challenge, bringing my maul to bear on the creature.  It is but a glancing blow, however, and my vison fades to black as one of the creatures pulls me to the ground and completes its task, spilling my guts on the cave floor.

Audric, standing alone against two remaining horrors, swings his enchanted blade wildly.  The Mystran warrior conducts himself honorably against the overwhelming threat, surviving yet another blow and its crippling effect.

Outmatched, Audric is overrun by one final lunge of the creatures, his flesh torn, blood splattering the cave walls as they pull him to the ground.

We perish in an unnamed cave in an unnamed mine beneath an unnamed mountain in the wilds of the Frozenfar.

Tooth and Fang

Exul’tul.

...

Exul’tul.

I know not that name.

But you do.

...

Wolfslayer.

Zeb’s eyes fluttered open, his nostrils flaring, hackles raised. Smoke from the party’s campfire billowed around him, yet he found himself alone.

Nearly.

Malar has betrayed you, and you him. The Beastlord with his actions, you with idle thoughts. Notions of... abandonment. Would you deny this?

Zeb looked around, trying to gain his bearings. An encroaching haze shrouded a vague presence. Distant, yet closer than arm’s reach. An omniscient force of overwhelming and unfathomable power. It uttered its will into Zeb’s being, an echoing cacophony through his bones, neither mortal man nor mortal woman, silent yet deafening.

Who are you?

Heed my call where the land is unspoiled, untarnished, untethered. Amalgamate my followers where the rivers weep the lifeblood of the unchained. You are bound by no god to follow a path that ill-befits your station.

Who are you?

A challenger to Malar’s throne.

Zeb awoke in a cold sweat, the frigid night air cut by the taunting, flickering flames. Bonie slept soundly beside him, her supple form caressing his body for warmth. Instinctively, Zeb reached out to Malar, seeking a conversation with his deity.

Before the Beastlord would answer, sleep took him.

XP awards for session 44

I'm going to go ahead and allocate XP for last session now. There's only one award to distribute, but it's a doozy...

The demon from the chasm is worth a massive 22,000 XP. Sure didn't feel like it thanks to Zeb's protection from evil, 10-ft radius spell, but well-earned nonetheless. The award is divided as follows:

• PCs/NPCs (4, including Bonie) - 4,400 each
• Henchmen (2) - 2,200 each

Updated totals, then, are as follows:

• Vonn - 13,088
• Audric - 34,389
• Zeb - 3,000/56,869
• Selben (h) - 18,451
• Lom (h) - 10,730

The only level-up goes to Vonn, though Audric, Zeb, and Selben are inching close. No training outside Fireshear, so Vonn will remain at 3rd level in terms of ability until the party makes its return.

#44: The Darkness Below

A chill wind blows in off the sea, cutting through us as we stand silently on the beach, Moonmaiden resting in berth behind us.  Arcon and Raganok Tunterhorn kick stones and shells impatiently beside me as I stare out over Fireshear, waiting for the others.  Before long, I recognize Bonie’s light, rapid steps interspersed between Audric’s more predictable slow, heavy footfalls.  Looking over my shoulder, I see Vonn trailing behind, his robes dragging in the sand, and Lom beside him.  Even though we’ve shared the cramped quarters of Moonmaiden these past weeks, we haven’t all been together at one time in a while, and it is welcome indeed to be once again in the company of such stout allies and good friends.

Reflecting on the approaching autumn and the race to repair Moodmaiden against conditions which will force her to remain berthed for the long winter, we make ready to head into Fireshear to search for Selben when we are greeted by a messenger bearing a summons addressed to the “Most Valorous Archguard”, signed mysteriously with an “R”.  Though cryptic, I take the “R” to stand for Revenant, though it’s unclear if that’s indeed the source of the communication.  The melted wax insignia, a pair of crossed axes, smells of Mirabar.

The Gallows is an establishment of which we were unaware—most of the businesses and lodging houses of Fireshear are private and our business in the small town has not been extensive, however, so that is no surprise.  As our business seeking out Selben takes us into Fireshear anyway, it makes sense to follow up on the mysterious lead as well.

The skies are overcast, obscuring the morning sun.  The village bustles with its usual activity, predominantly miners and shopkeepers, and many of the faces remain unrecognizable to us.  While we enjoyed an initial period of notoriety upon our arrival, that seems to have faded, and we are provided little in the way of special attention.   Preparations for winter are evident, and traders visiting Fireshear from Icewind Dale to the north are likely making their final trips before routes become impassable.  Though the streets remain unfamiliar to us, finding Whalebone Street and the Gallows presents little obstacle.

The façade of the building is weathered, the venerable construction showing the appearance of having withstood many harsh winters.  When we knock upon the great wooden door, an iron panel slides away, revealing a pair of eyes within.  Peering through the narrow opening, we make their owner out to be an armored guard, so we present the letter, requesting an audience with its sender.  The guard accepts it, pulling the heavy door open, granting us ingress and leading us down a dimly lit corridor.  We are led to another heavy wooden door in a corridor with many others like it, the guard knocking upon it with a gauntleted hand.  A muffled voice responds, “Enter.”

The room beyond is a furnished bedchamber, and inside are two dwarves—one of them being Revenant, along with a third individual slumped into a stone chair against the wall.  He is presumably human, but it is hard for us to tell.  Both legs have been severed above the knee, the stumps bound in dirty cloth.  One of his arms was taken off at the elbow, bandaged in a manner similar to his legs.  The man bears heavy scarring on his face, and a heavily crusted bloodstained cloth is wrapped around his head.  So thick is the crusted blood that removing the bandage would likely be problematic, if not impossible.

Revenant draws out a long dagger from a sheath at his side, and the man in the chair locks his only visible eye upon the weapon.  It’s not a threatening gesture, but everyone is clearly on edge.  “Speak, if you will,” Revenant commands.  “Tell us what happened in the mine.”

The wounded man speaks intelligibly, but his voice is weak and stammering.  “It came from below.  The bridge was severed… scores of men were ushered to their doom in the depths unseen... darkness, then blood, everywhere.  Screams, pain, blackness, death…”  His lucidity seems overwhelmed by recollection of whatever it was that happened, and he nearly swoons.  “Death,” he pleads, “take me soon!”

“Thank you,” Revanant says, then he steps forward and runs his knife across the man’s neck.  He slumps forward, dead.  There is an awkward moment of long silence as we try to make sense of the situation.

Revanant breaks the silence, turning to us.  “This was the only survivor of a terrible attack, several days ago.  As you can see, he preferred death himself.”  An explanation follows, Revenant providing what little details he has about the survivor and the slaughtered mining expedition.  No further details about foe that wreaked such carnage is available.

I seize a pause in the explanation to ask what I feel is an obvious question.  “How did this man escape, and how was he retrieved?”  Revenant explains that a mining company opened a mine high in the peaks; this man was discovered by a replacement team of miners, rescued and returned to Fireshear.   “That’s where you come in,” Revenant says grimly.

Revenant outlines a plan for us to accompany a new venture of miners and engineers, our group serving as vanguard to encounter and deal with the unknown threat.  Upon successfully removing the threat, he offers our group a small ownership stake in the mine, five percent of any proceeds.  When Audric and Vonn ask for more details regarding payment, Revenent explains that the mine is believed to be a lucrative source of silver, copper, and other minerals.

“What more does the man remember of the attack?” we ask, disturbed that we were not able to question the survivor ourselves, though cognizant of the pain he must have suffered and his desire for eternal rest.  Revenant explains that the man could provide no more information—whatever happened occurred quickly, and the devastation was near total.  The original company had been in the mine a month before the replacement company arrived, so the attack could have happened days or even weeks before.

The “severed bridge” he spoke of is a reinforced rope bridge needed to cross a large chasm within the mine.  Our task is to guard the engineers as they assess damage and make repair to the bridge, so that the mining company may once again access the ore beyond.  “How long did the original construction of the bridge take?” I ask.

Revenant reveals that the bridge required a fortnight to build—not knowing the extent of the repairs needed, it could take equally as long to replace, though there is a chance that it could merely be a matter of setting new ropes across the chasm if the bridge is otherwise intact.

“Are there maps of the mine?”  we ask.  Revenant reveals that the mine was fairly linear, which is a relief—having spent time in the branching paths beneath Dagger’s Deep where we encountered the behir, I have no desire to enter another similar maze.

“Were there any other problems in the mines?” Audric asks, referring to goblinoids and other known denizens of mountain caves.  “That,” Revenant explains, “is unknown.”  If there were threats in the mine of that nature, they were handled by the original company and their guards, and no word returned to Fireshear of any such trouble.

Having extracted what information we could from the encounter, we beg pardon to excuse ourselves while we talk it over, unsure if we are able to commit to the task.  If nothing else, it bears a conversation with Dame Azurris regarding the timeline for repairs to Moonmaiden ahead of its eventual departure.  There is also the matter of risk and reward, though we have no desire to discuss that within earshot of Revenant.

Fortunately, we are able to easily gain audience with Dame aboard Moonmaiden, and he reassures us the ship still requires a month or more of work—and even at the accelerated pace of repair, he’s still not certain he’ll beat the winter.  As Revenant’s endeavor should take no more than a few weeks, depending on the condition of the bridge, there seems little danger of Moonmaiden leaving without us.

Vonn, who has been quiet until now, seems disinclined to become entangled in such a dangerous task.  Though he has been our companion now for several weeks, little is known of the necromancer’s motivations, though his aversion to the potentially dangerous mission is perfectly reasonable.  Audric, for his part, seems intrigued by the possibility of a positive resolution for the miners, who will surely be sent to make repairs whether or not we accompany them, and a lucrative resolution seems especially appealing. 

As our funds have suffered from several weeks without gainful employment, we agree to seek another audience with Revenant.  “Besides,” I mutter, “I haven’t killed anything in weeks.” 

We find Revenant in his chamber as we left him, though the mutilated body of the survivor has since been removed.  He seems glad that we returned, eager to come to an agreement.  “How many miners perished?” Vonn asks, pointing out how thorough the slaughter must have been.  Revenant reveals that there were thirty miners and guards in the original company.

“More importantly,” I interrupt, “how do we get paid?” As we plan to eventually depart Fireshear, the issue of actually collecting in the case that we are successful seems worth discussion.  Revenant explains our options—if we return having successfully liberating the mine from threat and repairing the bridge, we’ll have documentation of our ownership stake. 

“You could stay, if you like, and hope to live off proceeds from the mine” he explains, “or you could come back in five years and hope to be rich.” He also explains that we could potentially sell the rights, and Revenant says he would leverage his contacts in the town to negotiate a fair price for our stake.

“What’s your level of investment in this mine so far?” I ask, curious how much the dwarf stands to lose should this mission, and any others like it, fail.  Revenant grins but is elusive and provides little in the way of a substantial answer.

Vonn and Audric decide to negotiate a better deal with Revenant, asking for a larger stake in the venture, Aurdric pointing out that without our help, the mine is completely without value.  They submit a counter of eight percent, nearly double what Revenant was initially offering, and the dwarf offers compromise, increasing the ownership stake to six and a half percent.

“Seven and a half percent,” Audric counters once again, “and you know you don’t have a better option.”

“No deal,” is Revenant’s surprising reply.  Unable to find compromise, Vonn and Audric leave the negotiating table, unwilling to settle for less.  I take their lead and we leave Revenant’s company, having left without concluding a deal. 

Privately, I speak with the Tunterhorn brothers, explaining in broad strokes the details of the mission.  “I will pay you what was promised, and we can consider our arrangement successfully concluded, or I will offer you an additional fifty gold each week in the mine to accompany us on this endeavor, knowing the danger.  The Grunwaldan warriors do not disappoint; they accept our offer and seem almost insulted at the prospect of shying away from danger and concluding our original agreement.

Having nearly forgotten the task that brought us into Fireshear in the first place, we return our attentions to tracking down Selben, knowing that he would provide another capable ally.  Fortunately, he finds us first, catching us off guard.  He appears as if out of nowhere, his robe mud smeared and dirty, as is his face—smeared with mud, soot or blood, it’s impossible to tell.  The mage’s fingernails are caked with the same unidentifiable detritus, and Selben refuses to speak of where he has been these last few days or what he may have been up to.

Reunited, we decide to return to Moonmaiden and go about our nightly routine, though secretly, I’m hopeful that Revenant will see reason and seek compromise.

We awaken the next morning, noting the potential for serious rain and inclement weather over the next several days.  No messenger arrives from Revenant in the morning.  After discussion, we decide to wait until dinner—all factors seem in our favor, but we decide that we will delay until the evening, at which point we will return to Revenant and accept his offer.  Though we wait impatiently, no invitation or runner is forthcoming, so we return to the Gallows and prepare to assent to Revenant’s compromise.

We see that the room has been cleaned, Revenant sitting alone at his table poring over a stack of parchment.  Audric approaches, asking flatly, “When do we leave?”

Revenant grins again, a wicked gleam in his eye.  “I’ve already found somebody else.”  After a pause though, he continues.  “But you’re better.” 

We clasp arms, closing the deal.  “Meet outside the Gallows first thing in the morning,” he commands, “everything will be prepared.”

The following morning, we meet a crowd gathered outside the Gallows.  It is a mixed crowd of men and women, human and dwarves, though most bear the rugged look of miners or craftsmen.  We are provided formal introductions to two members of the group—Clanden, the lead engineer, and Vicus, his assistant.  We are to accompany a single cart drawn by a sturdy mule, suitable for the rugged mountain passes as we ascend to the location of the mine.

With little fanfare we depart, hoping to stay ahead of the weather.  It remains reasonably clear, the sun finally piercing the veil of clouds that had been so oppressive these last weeks.  We head northwest from Fireshear, finding a steady rhythm as we traverse bits of bumpy road interspersed with overgrown trails.

As we travel, Clanden shares what he knows of the mine and the fate of the previous venture.  It is a cave perched upon a rocky precipice—we’ll have to climb to enter, leaving the mule and cart below.  If all is well, there should be ropes, pulleys and ladders to assist with lifting supplies to the cave.  The entrance leads into a cavern wide enough for two men to walk abreast, though it narrows quickly into a tunnel of perhaps a hundred yards, a shaft which leads deep into the mountain, through which we will have to crawl one at a time.

When asked about the size of the shaft, Clanden replies, “Even a dwarf cannot stand.”  It seems that the attack occurred deep into the mine beyond the shaft, as most bodies were retrieved after having climbed back through.  The majority of the fallen were unaccounted for, likely perishing before they could retreat through the tunnel mouth.

I broach the uncomfortable topic discreetly, “What was the nature of the wounds?  We saw one survivor who had lost several limbs but could ascertain little.  Were the wounds from rending, cut clean as if by weapon?”

Clanden reveals that the wounds were animalistic, savage, rending.  Limbs and gore were strewn about.  He explains that beyond the shaft is a natural cavity, across which runs… or ran… a rope bridge.  Running water can be heard below, but the height is several hundred feet, too deep and treacherous to navigate.  The miners had been working on the far side of the chasm.

The mountains surrounding Fireshear aren’t extensive, instead being a smattering of peaks among lower hills. Our travel the first day is easy, quiet and peaceful, as is the first night.  We build an open camp with a large fire and set watches, though the night passes uneventfully.

The second day, we recognize a subtle transition into more mountainous terrain, following a beaten trail that has been used by mining companies for decades.  Lom seems comfortable, the trail easy for him to follow, and deep into the second day we come upon the peak where the mine is situated and find everything much as Clanden predicted it would be.  Tools and gear litter the area, and nothing seems out of order—certainly no clue of the carnage that is said to lie within.

From the edge of the cliff, perhaps fifty feet above, dangles a series of ropes and pulleys, rigging to help lift supplies from the trail into the cave.  Climbing up and down the cliff, as long as the group is not under duress, should not be an issue for anyone.  Audric volunteers Bonie to ascend first and I brook no argument, as she is easily the deftest climber among us.  I volunteer myself to ascend second.  She nimbly climbs the ropes and ladders, peering around for signs of danger, and finding none she waves for me to follow.  Once atop the precipice, there’s an eerie sense of quiet, and my stomach turns in anticipation of what we may find beyond.  I start to notice dried streaks of blood, tattered cloth… subtle signs that something very wrong happened within the mine.

With the sun waning and the unloading of supplies underway, Clanden explains that companies would typically split up during the night, lookouts atop the precipice, the others with the gear below.  We decide that we’ll leave the Tunterhorn brothers to guard the engineers while we clear the entryway, making sure it is secure and free of danger before we post guards.

The rest of the group hauls themselves up, Selben nimbly scaling the cliffside by virtue of his powers—beyond arriving safely at the precipice, he’s able to scout the immediate area, checking for any obvious signs of threat or alternate openings, but finds no source of worry.  Striking torches, we enter the cave—Audric and I in front, Lom and Bonie with their bows behind, and Selben and Vonn bringing up the rear, torches in hand.

One thing becomes apparent immediately—there are no scavengers present.  As we progress, the stench of decay assaults us, and at one point we find ourselves stepping through a string of sticky entrails.  Signs of slaughter abound, remnants of those that survived the initial attack but that perished before reaching safety outside.  At the end of the cavern we find the shaft, a menacing black maw which leads deeper into darkness.

We bring our various magical abilities to bear, raising what defenses we can while scouting the area for signs of the supernatural.  As those so gifted among us do their work, Bonie and Lom stand guard at the precipice, watching over the bustling engineers and miners.  Selben wanders the cavern with a lit candle, poking about the bits of remains that litter the floor as if on a grim scavenger hunt.

We find no indication of any imminent danger, and having made what preparations we can, we decide to camp for the night.  Audric and I decide to the take our rest near the shaft, while others split watches either atop the precipice or with the men and women below.

We awaken the following morning ready to attempt the shaft.  Instead of crawling through the cramped opening, Selben uses his magic to alter my size—when he is done, I stand just over half my previous height.  It takes a few moments to become accustomed to my new dimensions, though the alteration allows me to move more freely within the confines of the tunnel.  Audric crawls behind me as I lead.

Even with my new diminutive frame, the tunnel takes several long minutes to traverse.  When we exit, we find ourselves on what appears to be a cliff or ridge on the near side of a large chasm.  Another such ridge can be seen in the flickering shadows beyond.  The ceilings of the natural cavern are high, perhaps thirty feet, and strewn about the area are discarded tools, a mine cart full of ore… and bits of slowly decomposing corpses.

The actual corpses are gone, but fragments of limbs, spatterings of blood and drying entrails abound.  On the other side of the chasm, we see more signs of carnage.  The anchors of the bridge that once went across the chasm are still intact, but the bridge itself hangs limp, having nearly been severed in the middle, left hanging by only a single rope.  The chasm is perhaps fifty feet across, making the task of repair a treacherous one.

We usher Clanden and the others through the shaft to evaluate the damage to the bridge.  I explain an elaborate plan to magically assist the critical first repairs, and Clanden seems hopeful that it will work.  Given the danger of the task and extent of the damage, Clanden says that he will conduct the repairs himself, while others assist and act as runners.  The rest of the company will stay behind with Arcon and Raganok to guard them.

As our plan requires magical preparations, we decide to retreat back through the tunnel for another night while the engineers eagerly discuss their plans to conduct repairs, bringing the required equipment into the cave.  In the deep hours of the night, I find myself meditating on the nature of whatever creature it was that caused so much death—surely nothing of the natural world. 

The next morning, we repeat our trek through the shaft, bringing magical defenses to bear as we peer through the darkness, wary of ambush as the others clamber through the tunnel bearing tools and other gear.  Selben imparts the same ability he used to deftly scale the mountain to Clanden, in hopes that it will ease the man’s steadfastness while he reinforces the bridge.

We all watch eagerly as Clanden begins his work, hugging the remaining rope as he pulls himself delicately over the middle of the chasm.  A few minutes into the endeavor, there is a sudden sound, a whoosh of air as if something has flown towards or over us in the dark.  I focus on the far side of the chasm, senses bolstered by magic, but don’t detect the threat in time.

A black form swoops up from the chasm, directly to where Clanden is working.  Time seems to slow as we see his limbs fly from his body in a spray of blood—his arm severed, his guts exploded and he falls into the chasm, a scream barely managing to escape before he disappears into the dark.  Above the bridge is a leather-winged creature with corded muscles, its form black, barely visible in the torchlight.  Roughly man-sized, maybe larger, there is a sense of imminent, unworldly danger.  The creature swoops again to attack.

I call upon Malar for a blessing as we ready ourselves for its approach.  Lom and Bonie let arrows fly at the creature, though if they have any effect at all, it is unapparent. Vonn, who had conjured a spectral limb with his necromancy to assist in the bridge repairs, uses his powers to impart it with magic—a dim blue aura surrounds the floating hand, and it radiates supernatural cold.  The cavern ceiling explodes in a cloud of glittering motes which cling to the winged demon’s supple form as it dives towards us. 

It recoils when it confronts a globe of unseen force, having crashed into one of my abjurations.  It changes course, recoiling before it gathers its senses and with a snap of its wings, returns to the ceiling of the cavern above.  Lom strikes the creature with an arrow, and while his aim was true, the arrow does not penetrate, betraying the creature’s probable immunity to mundane arms.

There is a moment of panic as we fear that we may be outmatched.  Remembering our encounter with the behir, I set a similar plan in motion as the others ready themselves for attack.  The creature shrieks unnaturally as its assaults are once again deflected, its frustration echoing within the cavern.  Audric raises his enchanted sword and cuts deeply into the demon as it flies by.  At my side, Vonn manipulates his conjured hand like a necromantic marionette, though unable to match our enemy’s speed.

I herd the group behind me, ordering Bonie back through the tunnel, knowing that she can’t aid in this battle.  I voice the words of power to form another abjuration, a hazy, draconic form of mist forming between us and the demon.

As it dives once again to attack, I am overwhelmed by an assault on my senses.  A feeling of emptiness overtakes me, forcing me to my knees as the attack threatens to swallow my consciousness.  Unwilling to leave my friends to face such danger alone, I fight back against the effect, managing to pull myself to my feet, the words of an incantation upon my lips—one that will force the creature to attack me once again.  I look up just in time to see it dive towards us, a shadow filled with fang and claw.

I roar out a challenge, invoking Malar as my allies raise spell and weapon to defend against its attack.  The ethereal mist strikes out at the demon as it approaches, and as it did with the behir, the demon is rendered motionless by the spell.  Instantly we fall upon it—Audric and I striking with our enchanted weapons as Vonn unleashes a volley of arcane bolts into the creature.

Unable to move or defend itself, it is quickly torn to bits by sword and sorcery.  As the creature dies, my head reels and I lurch forward, overwhelmed with nausea as the demon’s mental attack dissipates.  I spit bile from my mouth, then start laughing—a deep, satisfied laugh.

Reveling in the kill, I step forward and cut the demon’s heart from its chest.

All about bows (in 2e)

I’ve really had a few things mixed up regarding bows over the years. The intention has always been to adjudicate missile fire “by the book,” so I’ll begin honoring these immediately:

• Only longbows can fire sheaf arrows; short bows are limited to using flight arrows. (Note that this was already previously discussed here.)
  
• Longbows and short bows can be strung for a “heavier pull” to allow characters with high Strength scores to apply their modifiers to attack and damage rolls; these bows don’t cost more than normal bows unless they intend to enable bonuses for exceptional Strength (18/01 and higher).
• Composite bows work the same as regular bows in terms of pull; what’s different is their design, range, and speed factor.
• There’s no penalty to hit when firing into melee; possible recipients (including allies) are prorated with respect to size and the target is determined randomly (the attack roll still needs to be high enough to hit the target’s AC).

For those wanting to read the relevant passages, review the following sections in the 2e PH:

• Bows (Equipment chapter, p. 73)
• Modifiers to the Attack Roll (Combat chapter, p. 90)
• Ability Modifiers in Missile Combat (Combat chapter, p. 99)
• Firing into a Melee (Combat chapter, p. 99)

Map of session #44 (Fireshear mine)

Map of the mine northwest of Fireshear, where a demon spewed forth from a chasm and was defeated.

Click to enlarge

Rules Index

This post is a collection of various house rules and rulings we’ve employed over the years. The intention is to update with additions/changes whenever needed.

* The posts/rulings below are intended to be a guide for when similar situations/questions arise in our current game. Note that some of these were issued several years ago, for different campaigns (and in some cases, different rule systems). I reserve the right to alter or update them, if warranted.

 

House Rules

• Ability scores
• 4d6-drop-lowest, arrange to taste; up to two times, you may permanently discard these scores to roll a new set
• Hit points
• Max hp are awarded at 1st level
• For all subsequent levels, any 1s on hit point dice may be rerolled
• Proficiencies
• Both weapon and nonweapon proficiencies are in use going forward
• Critical hits
• An attack roll of natural 20 automatically deals max damage
• Training
• To level up, a PC must train for a number of days equal to the new level
• No monetary cost or mentor requirement is currently enforced

Class Abilities

• Favored enemy (ranger)
• Backstab (thief)
• Turn undead (cleric)
• Crusader (custom character class)

Combat

• AD&D 2e combat basics
• Missile fire
• Sheaf arrows
• Mounted combat
• Rulings on coup de gras permissibility based on various spells

Magic/Spells

• Starting spells for bards
• Learning new spells from captured spellbooks
• Scrolls
• Specific spell rulings
• Detect evil
• Find familiar
• Summon swarm

Miscellaneous

• Staying awake under duress
• Death’s door for NPCs and monsters

AD&D 2e Dungeon Musings YouTube Video

I shared this to our campaign Discord, but wanted to post here as well. This video, while lengthy, is an excellent overview of AD&D 2e in terms of the type of game it facilitates and reasons for potentially running it over newer/modern systems, while still remaining reasonably objective. Highly recommended for those returning to 2e after some time off:

 

Summons

On a cloud-covered gray morn amid the death throes of summer, a chill, light rain falls upon Fireshear's harbor, and a messenger arrives bearing a letter, wax-sealed with an insignia of crossed axes. The post is handed directly to First Lieutenant Shantor Ilfaen, who in turn delivers it to Audric and Zeb.

Most Valorous Archguard of Mirabar's Ship, Moonmaiden,

Your presence is requested forthwith at The Gallows, a Resting House. Whalebone Street, East Quarter. Come with haste.

—R

Reflections

Zeb’s consciousness clawed its way towards wakefulness, his body slowly responding to his attempts to stir, letting out a low groan as he pulls himself up to his side.  Looking around the cabin, his mind starts registering facts.  Bonie is gone, her bedroll already cold.  There is are noises of pounding, sawing...men and women already at work repairing Moodmaiden.  That Zeb slept through both Bonie’s departure and the general ruckus of repairs is not unusual as of late—he has been working himself hard throughout the day, nearly collapsing each night from exhaustion.  It’s the only way he can find sleep, the only way he can avoid the dreams.

Dragging himself from his own bedroll, Zeb stumbles over to a nearby table, picking at the remnants of last night’s meal before taking a long pull from his waterskin.  He hasn’t hunted in weeks—hasn’t needed to, as food was brought aboard daily from the kitchens of Fireshear.  Zeb walks over to his pack, withdrawing a small, round piece of mirrored glass, wiping the tarnished surface with his shirt before examining his own reflection, barely recognizing himself.  The frowning face that greets him looks old, tired, soft.  Too soft for these harsh lands, too soft for its winters.

Leaving their small chamber behind, Zeb climbs a narrow wooden stair to the deck of Moonmaiden to find Bonie.  There is commotion aboard the ship, Dame Azurris has hired what seems like a small army of craftsman and woodworkers, all with one goal in mind—to make Moonmaiden seaworthy again, and with haste.  What fire has been lit beneath the Moonmaiden’s captain is unknown, and while they haven’t spoken of it, Zeb assumes that their place aboard the vessel remains secured when Captain Azurris is finally ready to depart.  “Soon,” Zeb mumbles to himself.  “Just hope it’s soon enough,” he finishes in a whisper.

“What was that, old man?”  Bonie had managed to creep up behind him, unheard and unseen, though the wind to her back had given away her pleasant scent.

“Nothing,” Zeb lies.  “Just enjoying the morning air.”  She gives him a piercing, knowing look, almost as if she’s able to see directly into his soul.  That she has never recoiled at the darkness which surely lies within is comforting to Zeb.

“Dreams again?” she asks.  Zeb nods, knowing that nothing more need be discussed.  He had shared the content of his dreams, his ‘wolf dreams’ as she calls them, full of death and violence.  Sometimes focused, most times not, their intrusion since the group’s return to Fireshear has been most unwelcome.

“We should look for Selben today,” she continues, changing the subject.  The young mage had disappeared a few days after their return, and no one has seen him since.  Perhaps it was for the best...he had taken to making his gruesome figurines again, using dried sinew and bits of bleached bone washed up on the shore of Fireshear, and had been leaving them about Moonmaiden for the crew and workers to find.  It had many aboard Moonmaiden clearly disturbed, enough so that there were whispers that they were going to confront Captain Azurris about it.  

The men knew Selben’s craft and gave him a wide berth, so there was a palpable relief when it became clear that Selben was no longer sleeping aboard Moonmaiden, had stopped visiting altogether.  “Selben can take care of himself,” is Zeb’s reply, almost as if trying to convince himself the truth of that statement.  Bonie’s skepticism is evident.

“Fine, you win.  We’ll go look for him.  I’ll rouse the Tunterhorns, and we should see if Vonn and Audric have any business in town.”  Bonie seems pleased by Zeb’s change of heart, and leans in to kiss his cheek before disentangling herself and bouncing away to seek out Audric and the others.

As Zeb turns to return below deck and gather his things, there is a cry from the rigging above.  “Ho!  Watch below there!”  One of the workers had become tangled in the rigging, letting slip his box of tools.  A small hail of nails rains onto Moonmaiden’s deck, along with a heavy mallet which plunges into the deck with a sickening crunch.

Zeb flinches, reminded of a dream he had the first night upon returning to Fireshear, and the sickening sound of the ogre’s club crushing Dabria’s skull.  “Just hope it’s soon enough,” he grumbles one last time before turning away.

By Candlelight

Chains rattled beyond the threshold as the gate to the hold was raised. The dwarf stepped forward, the meandering gray hairs in his otherwise umber beard reflecting dim torchlight as he trudged along, flanked by two men armed with blades.

A guard met the trio at the entryway and grunted, tilting his head to indicate the direction to follow. They sauntered down a narrow hall, its centuries-old stonework glistening with dampness from the moist air.

“Your escort is to remain here,” the guard said, and the dwarf looked back, nodding to each of his companions in turn before crossing into the drier, arched chamber beyond. An iron-reinforced oak door closed slowly behind him, eliciting a wheeze as a final breath of air escaped the room, which was illuminated by a grandiose, flickering chandelier, a hundred candles glowing from dozens of brass arms.

Three figures waited around an ornate cedar table. Tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of conquest in weavings crimson, blue and gold. His hosts, a dwarf, a woman, and a man, regarded the newcomer with interest, dressed in fineries layered atop merchant garb. The woman beckoned him to sit.

“Welcome... Revenant,” the man started, caressing his elongated, stubbled chin, “Your reputation precedes you.”

“As does the tale of your journey through the ruins of Illusk!" the dwarf host barked, his beard both thicker and grayer than that of their guest. “Your Mirabarran conglomerate must surely be pleased."

“And now,” the woman said, “you seek a new venture, in our city, on behalf of your own. Do I understand correctly?”

“Aye,” the dwarf across the table from her replied gruffly. “A venture for mutual benefit, I’d wager. The taprooms of Fireshear abound with tellings of recent peril within its mines...”

“Confirmed,” the man stated. “A full chartered company lost. Nearly three score men and dwarves in all.”

“My sympathies,” Revenant offered.

“ ‘Tis the danger of the business, I'm afraid. Our miners, along with any surviving families, are paid well for the risks of their toil, whether natural or... less so.”

Revenant nodded. “I propose to sponsor the cleansing of Fireshear's catacombs to help ensure the lasting prosperity of your teams, that they may continue to harvest wealth for the region from the rich veins that run through yon hills.”

The woman rapped her fingernails against the cedar. Rings of precious metals and shimmering gemstones decorated her hands. “For a price, I do not doubt.”

Revenant smiled. “There’s always a price. Or in this case... a partnership.”

The elder dwarf grinned, showing an assortment of gold and silver teeth. Revenant spared him a wink. “Indeed, what manner of threat assailed the fallen? Fell humanoids? Collapsed tunnels?”

The man eyed him grimly. “Neither...”

* * *

The rumors spread like wildfire through Fireshear’s streets and residences. In recent weeks, the frost giant known as Glaumarr had wrought doom upon no fewer than a half-dozen groups of caravaners traveling to and from Hundelstone. Previously, the menace had been driven south from Icewind Dale by a band of adventurers, which had subsequently gone missing.

Hundelstone, a passthrough town populated mainly by stout and small folk who lived in dwellings built into rock and below ground, was in dire need of resources to combat the growing threat. Merchant caravans departing Fireshear were paying high coin for capable guardship to Icewind Dale.

With winter ever looming in the Frozenfar, taking full advantage of the remainder of the trade season was paramount.

* * *

Dame Azurris thought of his perished daughter and took a deep pull of brandy. As the warmth flowed through him, he noticed a sliver of moonlight casting a pale glow upon the floorboards lining the farthest wall.

The door to the captain’s chamber was ajar. The woman who stepped lithely from the shadows trusted him not to call out, setting down on the table before her a jeweled dagger that could just as easily have pierced his throat.

Unflinching, he locked eyes with her, willing her to speak.

“Forgive my intrusion, Captain,” she offered, untying a braid of auburn hair and letting it fall about her leather-clad shoulders. “I seek passage south to Neverwinter, before the seas freeze over, and not aboard any merchant-owned vessel.”

Azurris studied her, trying to guess at her ancestry. Waterdhavian? “Moonmaiden will not voyage again before winter, I regret to inform,” he replied in earnest. “Care for a drink?”

“You could sail if your repairs were expedited, I don't doubt,” she mused, biting her lip. “What could I do?”

“Convince every carpenter and shipbuilder in Fireshear of the urgency of your departure. Whatever your means...” How many veils of ruse adorn this succubus? Can't tell if she means to kill me, seduce me, or take me for everything I'm worth. Possibly all three.

“I'd see this ship ready for journey before the first frost,” she replied. “Prepare to set your course, Captain.”

Azurris averted his eyes to the brandy jug still in his hand, smirking at the absurdity of this encounter.

When he looked back up again, she was gone.