Chapter 47
At the end of the fifty-foot long hallway, they find a wooden door with a heavy bar laid across its front, preventing it from being opened from the other side. Dolor looks back to the others for approval before lifting the metal beam from its place, securing the door—and whatever they’ll find beyond it.
The rogue tiefling leads the group into a large room, 30 feet wide and 15 feet deep, that is ornately decorated and lavishly furnished. Filling one corner of the room, is a four-post bed with a mountain of sheets, comforters, and pillows that could comfortably fit four regular-sized humans, two half-orcs, or at least six halflings. Along the west wall, an elaborate buffet, complete with gold filigre and ornamental hardware, is laid out with all sorts of food delicacies and a fine choice of drinks.
Standing next to a leather-bound reading chair, one of a pair along the south wall, is a blond halfling. Their hair falls below their shoulders, facial features are narrow and angular, slightly regal even, and their body is slim yet sturdy. Wearing finely-made leather armor, they hold two large knitting needles, deftly moving them while creating what appears to be a scarf.
“Please join me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had visitors. Would you like some coffee, tea, or perhaps a taste of wine? The cold brew is especially fine, one of my favorites.” She indicates the buffet to her left, filled with treats.
“My name is Dave Chevits, no relation to the scarcely known and infinitely less charming, David Shevitz. They end their spelling with the letter Z, which is barbaric—no offense, my lovely barbarian.” The halfling gives a slight nod to Gven before continuing. “I like to get that out of the way. For some reason everyone in Eritz thinks we’re kin.” Continuing to skillfully move her knitting needles, “What may I do for you fine folks?”
Dolor is the first to recover his wits, “I’m curious, how did you get trapped beneath a ziggurat filled with deadly creatures?”
“Oh, that’s a long story. Not nearly enough time to get into that, my dears. Let’s skip past the pleasantries, although that’s something David Shevitz would do and I’m loathe to be compared.” They grimace at the thought, but go on. “I believe this is what you’re looking for.”
From underneath the enormous bed, the halfling pulls a blanket, then another, and then several more. “As you can see, I’ve had quite a bit of time on my hands and I so enjoy knitting. Would anyone care for a blanket? A scarf, perhaps? Guaranteed to be as comfy as the soft down fur of a baby bug bear.” Continuing to search, they pull bags of trinkets, jewelry, and coins into the room’s floor.
Finally, reaching farther underneath the bed, Dave slides out a greatsword contained in a pitch black scabbard. “Ah, here’s what I’m looking for! I believe they call it Blackrazor.”
Blackrazor yet remains to be won
Underneath inverted ziggurat.
Surprising the rest of the party with the poem’s words, Gustaf moves forward and grabs the pommel to inspect it closer. He slides the first foot out of its dark black scabbard, revealing the obsidian dragonscale blade of the greatsword. Mond feels a strange, creeping dread come over him, as do some of the others, based on their expressions of fear and misery. Gustaf sees their reactions and returns the blade to its home, instantly relieving their overwhelming sense of dismay.
Grindlefoot looks around, “Why do you all look constipated? It’s only a sword.”
Gustaf looks to the halfling, “Did you not sense the blade’s unmitigated desire to kill? Did you hear the power in its voice? It filled my mind, urging me to attack all of you at once, to send you to the void. Being an educated man of science and philosophy, it had no impact on my superior mind. Yet, it sang glorious songs of battle, attempting to intimidate me, to convince me that I should attack you. Alas, that is not my way.”
Bilwin moves closer to Gustaf and reaches out to touch the sheathed sword, casting Identify. “Oh, it’s very powerful! Whomever wields it in battle will have great advantages. And it’s sentient!”
Gustaf sighs, “I already told you that.”
“Yes, it’s quite a magnificent blade, albeit, extremely dangerous to the wielder. Here are a few more trinkets you might like to bring with you when we leave.” Dave, the halfling, hands Dolor 100 platinum pieces, 50 electrum pieces, a potion of greater healing, and a scroll of protection against fiends. “What say you, shall we venture beyond this door and see what other excitement awaits?”
The group looks around at each other and Dolor finally speaks, “Who should carry that ensorceled sword?”
“I’ll do it,” Gustaf says quietly. “It’s powers don’t impact me like they do the rest of you. Besides, if it does gain control I’d rather it not be in the hands of Gven or Dolor—or any of the rest of you, for that matter. You’ll have an easier time taking me down, if it comes to that.” He grabs three scarves from Dave’s collection and fashions a knitted scabbard across his back. “There, that’ll have to do.”
The adventurers leave the halfing’s small prison cell and as the door closes, the food and snacks that Bilwin had stowed away in his clothes and backpack suddenly disappear. “Aw, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to those scones with my beer, later. Let’s go see that floating stream. I bet it has all kinds of fancy floating fish or, maybe, there’ll be sharks!”
The group returns the way they came, navigating the destruction of the ziggurat. “You were thorough in here,” Dave comments as they take in the water-logged carnage. They climb to the top level, exit the ziggurat room, and make their way through the passage to the room with the stream and kayaks.
Floating two feet above the room’s floor, the stream is only three feet deep, allowing plenty of space between it and the room’s ceiling. Several fish swim along with the current, most of them nondescript and all of them uninterested in the spectators. The creek enters the room through an opening in the west wall and leaves through one in the northeast corner, both with five feet of space between the top of the water and the tunnels’ ceiling. Bilwin sticks his arm into the water and feels it pulling him inward, although he’s able to keep his balance and remain outside of the stream.
The group decides to see where the water goes and ties four of the kayaks together, hoping it will keep them from getting separated with whatever they might encounter in the tunnel. Gven holds a kayak up against the water, resting one end on the top of the stream while Grindlefoot and Bilwin climb aboard. When they’re ready, the barbarian lets go and they disappear into the tunnel.
Dolor and Dave Chevits are holding the second kayak in place. Gven quickly holds it up against the stream, like the first one, allowing the tiefling and halfling to board and take off down the waterway. Next, Mond and Gustaf follow the same pattern, allowing Gven to help them launch their kayak. Gven’s kayak is the last one in the line of boats tied together. She holds the narrow boat up against the stream, quickly launches it into the water, and performs a twisting jump to land inside and facing the proper direction. The rope at the bow pulls tight and her kayak moves slowly with the current, into the dark tunnel ahead.
In the lead kayak, Bilwin and Grindlefoot drift into the deepening dark for a minute or longer, before Bilwin touches the bow and casts Light. The kayak begins to illuminate the bare tunnel walls, both above and below the water line. The riders notice the current slowing even more as it encounters a slight incline. They hear rushing water up ahead and within a matter of seconds, their boat hangs momentarily on the precipice of a drop into the unknown. The weight shifts forward and the narrow vessel shoots downward, gathering speed with the current, turning to the left, then slightly to the right, and back to the left again. The waterway levels out for a short space, drops further downward, jettisoning them forward even faster, and then back upwards, until it finally flattens out. Grindlefoot can tell that they’re headed westward when they both see a light ahead.
The small boat with the halfling and dwarf enters a room and the floating stream takes a soft turn to the left. As they peer around the room, they notice several warriors outfitted in black plate armor standing off to each side of the stream. Before they can respond, their kayak rides the stream through an exit on the other side of the room. Looking backward, Grindlefoot says, “I wonder what they want?”
Following the first kayak, Dolor and Dave enter the room in their boat, only to discover a large fishing net strung across the floating creek. They quickly become entangled in the rope prison. Looking around, they see warriors dressed in black armor surrounding them with swords drawn.
Dolor yells as loud as he’s able, “It’s a trap!”
Grindlefoot barely hears Dolor and then the rope attached to their stern goes taught. “Help me Bilwin, we need to pull ourselves back to that room. I don’t think those warriors are friendly.”
Mond also hears Dolor’s warning and turns to Gustaf, “Prepare to jump as soon as we enter that room up ahead. And keep that sword away from any battle, we don’t want it persuading a random fighter to take hold of it.”
Further back in the tunnel, her kayak’s bow tied to the stern of Mond and Gustaf’s, Gven senses trouble ahead and readies herself for action—not that unusual, really. She sees the light of the room ahead and the boat slows down with the current as it approaches the opening, allowing her a moment to take in the scene. Dolor, Dave, and their boat are tangled up in a large fish net, unable to move. Mond and Gustaf are prone on the floor, attempting to upright themselves. Spread around the room are several warriors dressed in black plate mail with their swords brandished, obviously meaning to attack. Where the hovering stream exits the room, she can see the tip of a kayak re-entering the room, with Bilwin and Grindlefoot pulling hard on the rope still tied to Dolor’s kayak.
The half-orc barbarian dives from her kayak, rolling into a somersault on the ground, and then up into a fighting stance. Pulling Tempest Edge from its scabbard, she invokes her barbarian rage and attacks the warrior closest to her, who happens to be larger than the others. The greatsword glows blue as the half-orc slashes her opponent’s sword arm, first cutting between the bracer and rerebrace, then on her backswing, slices their wrist, behind the gauntlet. They grunt in pain at the unexpected accuracy of the large half-orc’s strokes.
The larger warrior winks at Gven and, although obviously in some pain from Tempest Edge’s gashes, deftly jabs at her thigh with his non-magical greatsword, drawing blood. Another warrior in black swings its sword at Gven, but it goes wide the first time and then barely knicks her in the shoulder on the backswing.
Towards the middle of the room, Dolor and Dave fight to detangle themselves from the wet rope cell. The tiefling slices a few pieces and falls to the ground, momentarily free to look around and measure their situation. The halfling isn’t as fortunate and continues to struggle with the netting.
As Bilwin drops from the kayak to the stone floor, “Hanseath, I think we need a bit of help with this crew. Mind blessing them with a little something extra?”
On the other side of the room, one of the combatants attacks Mond, who smoothly ducks the first swing and deflects the second. Next to the half-elf, Gustaf hasn’t been able to move to safety and, fortunately, one of the attackers swings wide and misses the fearful human. “I’m not here to fight! I’m a student of history and life and death and, wait, not death, no no no, not death! Leave me be!”
Two of the enemies in black move towards Bilwin and Grindlefoot, both trapped against the wall. The dwarf and halfling each receive minor cuts from their opponent’s swords. Seeing Gven facing a giant attacker, Grindlefoot casts Haste, giving her additional attack speed and improving her ability to defend herself.
One of the warriors notices Dolor standing by himself and runs to attack with its sword brandished high in front and slicing downward aggresively. The rogue’s inherent Uncanny Dodge allows him to move slightly and avoid the brunt of the blow.
Mond reaches his feet to find himself facing two of the enemies and blocking them from Gustaf. He casts Dissonant Whispers, causing them visible pain, although they don’t run away. The sorcerer quickly follows up by quietly casting Shield, protecting him for the next several moments.
“You’re awfully cheeky for someone about to die,” Gven whispers to the large warrior in front of her, as she stabs them in the right shoulder, pulls back to remove her blade, and turns around in a blur for a full-body swing of Tempest Edge aimed at their neck. The warrior moves backward, out of the way. “We are blessed knights of the One. We do not die easily, especially at the hands of infidels.”
The knight facing Gven is nearly as tall as her 6 foot 8 inches and even wider in the shoulders. With a grimace across his oddly smooth face, he slides his greatsword forward, barely missing her left forearm. On its return stroke, he moves the blade to his left, across Gven’s arm and leaves a short opening in her armor.
Dolor pulls Gleaming Blade from its sheath and slides it through the stomach of the black knight attacking Dave Chevits, killing them instantly. Having a few moments to untangle themselves, Dave drops to the stone floor, finally free from the corded cage. The other black knight attacks Dolor again, but with a twist of Gleaming Blade, the tiefling deflects their weapon.
Pulling his hurdy-gurdy case from his back, Bilwin swings it roughly at the closest combatant, smashing them upside their head and sending them backwards a step. A floating beer stein suddenly appears next to the dwarven cleric and sends a bolt of force towards the same warrior, causing them to stagger backwards even further.
Gustaf eludes a warrior’s swing and makes his way to the edge of the room, hugging the wall while keeping the enchanted sword behind him.
The knight facing Mond swings with abandon, missing their target by a wide margin. The half-elf sorcerer responds with a Fire Bolt that propels his attacker several feet in the other direction.
On the other side of the floating stream, Grindlefoot casts Shillelagh on his staff and carefully enters into the fray. Spinning and kicking out his right leg, the halfing targets the back of a knight’s knee, hitting them squarely in the bare spot between their plate mail. He follows the kick with a smack of his staff, causing the warrior to grunt in pain.
Gven suddenly feels the surge of energy from Grindlefoot’s casting spell and launches a brutal attack against the giant knight. Tempest Edge is a blur of movement as the half-orc carves pieces out of her opponent’s armor and flesh. It’s all the knight can do to respond, missing with both swings of his greatsword.
“You really need a better skin care routine. The stale air down here is wreaking havoc on your face.” The confused look on Gven’s face prompts him to add, “I’m just saying, you need to take care of yourself.”
Noticing the giant opposite Gven, Dolor disengages from his attacker, moves behind the large black knight, and deftly plunges Gleaming Blade through the edge of his cuirass. “Tis but a flesh wound,” the man responds.
Close to Dolor, Dave Chevits pulls their large knitting needles from the narrow scabbards across their back and takes a fencing stance. A knight notices the halfing warrior and swings their shortsword at them, barely missing. Dave responds with a flurried attack, but is unable to land a blow on the wiggly knight.
Still brandishing his hurdy-gurdy case, Bilwin swings it at the same warrior, connecting for a solid hit. The floating stein fighting alongside the cleric repeats its attack as well, causing a pained look on the knight’s face. They’re not feeling well, at all, but they recover enough to stab the dwarf with their shortsword. Bilwin gasps in pain, but stands in place, ready for the fight to continue.
Another of the knights advances on Dolor, reengaging from earlier in the battle, and slashes wildly across the tiefling’s back, drawing blood. Dave sees this and quickly moves to the tiefling’s aid, poking the black knight several times with their knitting needles. The knight gives the small warrior a look of disgust.
Mond notices two knights standing close and casts Fire Bolt at them, enveloping them both in flames. They scream in pain, but remain standing and ready to fight.
Having moved into the fight, Grindlefoot throws a hard knee kick at his opponent and then jabs them with his staff. His valient efforts aren’t unnoticed, but they also don’t cause significant pain. Grindlefoot calmly considers his next option.
Even with the increased speed from Grindlefoot’s haste spell, the large knight is able to evade Gven’s flury of attacks with Tempest Edge. Slightly confused and mildly amused, she responds to his comment. “To tell the truth, your skin is surprisingly wrinkle-free. Suggestions?”
With a grin, the muscular warrior takes a lengthy swing with his greatsword and catches Gven’s thigh on her right leg, drawing blood through her leather armor. “It’s a special compound of all-natural, organic ingredients that I apply twice a day. Any apothecary or herbalist who knows their stuff can mix it for you.” Another combatant sneaks in behind Gven, slashing her shoulder with their shortsword, drawing even more blood.
With his focus on Gven, the black knight doesn’t notice Dolor in his blind spot. The tiefling’s blade slices through the knight’s right calf and blood begins to flow from the wound. “I’ve had worse,” he says between gritted to teeth to Dolor.
Distracted during his attack, Dolor doesn’t notice another knight to his left, whose long dagger slides through his leather armor and into his skin. Responding without thinking, the tiefling casts Hellish Rebuke and the knight is immediately surrounded by flames, screaming in pain.
Bilwin shift his weight and lurches forward with his hurdy-gurdy case, missing the shorter knight in front of him. Meanwhile, the floating stein almost seems to laugh at the dwarf’s ineptitude as it sends a powerful burst of energy into the same attacker, causing it to kneel in pain.
The warrior halfing, Dave Chevits, carves the air with his deadly knitting needles. Puncturing one of the knights in their midsection. Close by, Mond hurls a mote of fire at another assailant, dropping it to the floor, dead within seconds.
Grindlefoot, exasperated with ineffective punches against plate mail, unleashes a wave of thunderous energy at the large knight attacking Gven and three others in the blast’s wake. The humongous black knight withstands the onslaught, but the others are thrown backwards towards the wall, one landing hard on the floor and not getting back up again.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, Gven is overcome with fatigue. When Grindlefoot cast thunderwave, he could no longer maintain the Haste spell. The half-orc’s shoulders slump in exhaustion and Tempest Edge’s blade lowers, leaving an opening for the black knight. He takes advantage of the rare opportunity, adding another gouge to her left arm.
Gven throws a look at Grindlefoot, “Never again, halfling! I fight by my own powers, no one else’s!”
Hearing Gven’s comment, the halfling casts Healing Word and demurely says, “Um, so sorry. I thought I was, um, helping?”
With exceeding dexterity, Dolor spins to and fro with Gleaming Blade, slashing and stabbing three of the knights in a few moments time. Revealing the finesse of an experienced rogue, he nimbly pulls his second weapon, a shortsword, from it sheath at his side with his off-hand and finishes one of them. Adrenaline pumping, the tiefling deflects another knight’s attack and turns back to the large one facing Gven.
The dwarven bard, Bilwin, continues his onslaught with the hurdy-gurdy case, beating a combatant across their back. Next to him, floating in the air in a misty-like presence, the beer stein shoots another burst of energy into the same knight, forcing them to the floor in agony.
Close to Dolor, Dave Chevits has decided to play with their opponent. A ball of yarn appears in the petite warrior’s hands and is suddenly being wrapped around their attacker. Within seconds, the knight is tied up and unable to move. Dave’s hands move to their hips and they strike a pose of triumph while laughing at the warrior’s feeble attempts to escape.
Mond’s hand turns to shadow as he moves to touch the warrior closest to him, attempting to siphon their life force. The warrior sees the sorcerer and his shadowy hand, their face krinkles up in fear and they hastily recoil, avoiding the necrotic affects of Mond’s spell.
Resuming his melee attacks, Grindlefoot casts Shillelagh on his staff again and focuses on a single knight. Spinning into position, then jumping for the height advantage, the small halfling punches his opponent in the arm and follows up with a strike of his staff, breaking their arm.
Feeling better after Grindlefoot’s healing words, Gven resumes her battle with the leader of the black knights. “While I appreciate your tips on skin care, I think it’s about time for this to be over.” Tempest Edge finds the nook between the pallette and shoulder piece in the knight’s plate armor, causing the large man to stumble, although he remains standing. Unsettled by the continued attacks from Gven and Dolor, the black knight fails to connect with Gven on either swing of their greatsword. Another of the knights attacks the half-orc with their shortsword, cutting through the leather armor on her leg, drawing even more blood.
Next to Gven, Dolor holds out his hands and spreads his fingers, until a thin sheet of flames bursts forward towards the large black knight and two others. All three of them are consumed by fire and only two remain alive when the flames abait.
Dave Chevits continues to laugh at the knight captured in colorful yarn, half-heartedly poking at the man with their weaponized knitting needles. He lunges at Dave and falls to the ground, prone and unhurt. Seeing this, Bilwin casts Guiding Bolt at the attacker, trying to put the poor man out of his misery.
Once again, Mond casts Vampiric Touch and is successful this time. The unfortunate recipient’s face turns a ghastly white as the life force is quite literally drained from them. Mond appears to be rejuvinated by the influx of energy.
Grindlefoot has found a certain rhythym with his movements, a symbiosis between the martial arts and the Shillelagh’d staff. For a brief moment, he eyes his opponent with a fierce look and spins his staff around his body in unexpected ways. Before they can respond, the halfling advances with a direct smack to the knight’s head and they instantly collapse, dead.
Still tired and recovering from Grindlefoot’s Haste spell, Gven’s attacks with Tempest Edge are slow, easily avoided by the injured large knight. Distracted, he doesn’t see Dolor’s attack with Gleaming Blade.
The tiefling is ready for this fight to be over—and tired of hearing skin care advice. He rears back with the magical sword, giving himself the leverage of a wide swing at the giant knight. A soft roar is heard through the room as he brings the sharpened blade to the arc of its path, the point of greatest speed, and it crushes the knight’s arm, now completely useless.
Bilwin hears Dolor’s aggressive snarl and turns to see the knights’ leader swaying, hardly able to stand. He holds up his hand and a flash of light streaks towards the large opponent, burning through his chest. Gven watches his eyes go dark as he crumbles to the stone floor, finally accepting defeat with his death. “Even dead, his skin still looks fresh.”
Like a cat playing with its prey, Dave Chevits persists in poking their opponent, who is still wrapped in yarn.
Finding success with Vampiric Touch, Mond casts it again and touches the knight closest to him. As the sorcerer’s hand falls on the warrior’s shoulder, the life slowly drains from their eyes and the husk of their body collapses.
Weary from the battle and thankful that the giant leader is down, Gven turns to find two more knights fighting the others. Sparked by a final surge of energy, the half-orc spins, swinging Tempest Edge with her to gain speed, letting its path end by severing a knight’s head from their body. With a final surge, she continues the spin and slices through the remaining knight’s forearm.
Dolor follows Gven’s lead, taking Gleaming Blade to the knight’s sternum and then slashing their arm with his off-hand blade.
“I’ll get ‘em, don’t you worry!” Bilwin rushes in with his hurdy-gurdy case and bashes the lone knight across the back of their head. Their eyes roll up and their body buckles, lifeless as it settles to the floor.
Tired and wounded after the lengthy battle, the adventurers pause to catch their breath and make sure no one’s hurt too badly.
The halfling warrior, Dave Chevits, saunters over to Dolor, claps him on the lower back, and whispers, “See you ‘round. Call for Fenseck when you next need me.” For a brief moment—less than half a second—the tiefling sees the Efreeti, a fire-based djinni whom he made the pact with to gain his warlock powers.
A ball of bright yellow yarn and two long, deadly knitting needles lie on the floor where the halfling stood.
From the southeast corner of the room, Gustaf calls out, “Could someone help me up? This damnable sword won’t stop talking to me and I thought it might shut up if I laid on it!” The small man is stuck on his back, rolling to each side in comic attempts to get to his feet. “Hurry now, I need to update my map!”
Guest player: Jolivette Shevitz as Dave Chevits