Chapter 57
Returning to Hallix Mausoleum, the group enters the crypts, pass through the first room into the second and turn right, carefully traversing the caved-in tunnel to the room where they finished off the wights. On the north wall, there are two more doors for them to investigate, one to each side of the room where they discovered Sarcelle Malinosh. At the west wall, a short set of stairs leads up to a landing and the closed door with a large painted eye. In the southern wall, another caved-in tunnel leads into darkness, next to a pile of stone rubble in the southeastern corner.
“Shall we see what lies in these other doors, next to the sorceress’s prison cell?” Dolor opens the unlocked door to the left of the cell and moves forward cautiously. It seems to be a storage room, filled with all sorts of supplies. Crates, boxes, and large bags are stacked against one of the walls. On two other walls are shelves containing lanterns, dry food stuff, casks of water, manacles, chains, and more.
Two flasks catch the tiefling’s eye and upon closer inspection, they both have “take to feel better” scrawled across their fronts. Suspicious of their surroundings, Gven suggests Bilwin verify they’re healing potions and not something nefarious. Accepting the flask from Dolor, the cleric removes the stopper, takes a sniff and casts Detect Magic.
“Oh no, these aren’t going to help anyone who drinks them. Quite the opposite, really.” He moves to put them back on the shelf, but Gven suggests they might come in handy sometime.
“Indeed, they might.” And he puts them into a special pocket within his Bag of Holding.
Dolor moves to the door to the right of Sarcelle’s room and opens it to find a small room, ten feet along each wall. It’s dominated by a large iron grate in the center, easily five feet across each way. Moving close to the grate, Gven bends down to investigate and sees that it covers a shallow pit holding a golden harp, sheaf of papers, and piece of cloth that appears to be drenched in blood.
Before reaching through the grate’s five inch wide openings, she studies the iron enclosure more closely. The half-orc notices blades inset around the edges of the stone encasing it. Pressing ever-so-lightly on the grate, the blades begin to move inward—a trap for anyone who attempts to reach through and grab the items below.
Dolor retrieves a crow bar from his backpack and attempts to use it as lever to open the grate, but it’s too heavy. Giving Gven a look, she takes the crowbar, wedges it into the narrow opening between the grate and the stone’s edge, then pushes down with all her strength. Her neck and arm muscles bulge in effort for several seconds before the edge of the grate gives, folding upward and making a larger opening.
“I got this!” Bilwin inches closer and a spectral hand appears next to him. The dwarf’s concentration is obvious as he moves the floating hand through the opening created by the crowbar and retrieves each of the objects.
Mond takes the cloth from the magical hand and discovers that it’s a torn edge, likely from a cloak or coat. It’s completely saturated by dried blood.
Dolor examines the harp, even playing a few chords with some sense of aptitude, to find that it’s a finely made, yet unenchanted harp.
The ethereal hand brings the papers to Bilwin, who begins to shuffle through them. “This one looks like a map of a large estate and this one is a schedule, including locations, times, and events. What’s this scribbled in the margins?” He turns the paper slightly, so he can read the handwritten words.
“‘Her secrets will make a worthy sacrifice.’ What’s that mean? Oh, here’s a name written on one of the pages: Indrina Lamsensettle. That’s the actor Lord Neverember wants us to find, right?”
Moving back to the previous, larger room, Dolor ascends the stairs to the door with the painted eye and opens it warily. The doorframe is short, forcing the tiefling to duck as he goes through it into the small room beyond. The walls are built from stone, not bored through solid rock like the tunnels below ground. It appears to be a crossroads of sorts, with a door across the room, opposite from the one they entered, and four bells hanging from the ceiling in a line from one doorway to the other.
Grindlefoot looks around, “We’re back at ground level. I think this might be along that stone fenceline we saw, the one that separates the two parts of the graveyard, between the rich and poor.”
Dolor says to the group, “Before we head into the fancy crypts, shall we finish exploring the paupers side? We didn’t investigate that caved-in tunnel on the southern wall.”
Everyone nods in concurrence and they return, with Gven forgetting to duck and knocking her head on the low doorframe. “Damn short doors! No offense, Grindlefoot or Bilwin.”
“None taken! But that does remind me of the Fucking Duck. What a great name for a dwarven-owned, and dwarven-sized shop! Clever dwarf, that jeweler.”
Dolor leads them into the southern tunnel. It goes for fifteen feet before opening into a room almost as large as the one they just left. It’s filled by a large, square pool of water, contained by a raised stone wall that reaches Gven’s knees. The structure easily measures twenty feet on each side. There’s a five foot space between it and the wall on all sides, allowing them to navigate around the room.
Two round, rusty metal pipes run across the ceiling, from the east side to the west, each about the circumference of a cantaloupe. Hanging immediately below them is a slightly smaller pipe in a circular shape above the pool, with water dripping down into it from several small spickets. The circular area of piping appears to be fed by another pipe that comes into the room from the northeast corner, moves along the top edge of the wall, and then takes a 90 degree turn south to connect to it. Four hallways exit the room: two on the eastern wall, one on the west wall, and the last in the southwest corner of the southern wall.
Tentatively approaching the water, Dolor sees that it’s fairly clear and notices shiny objects at the pool’s bottom. As he moves closer to get a better look, he discerns that there are watery creatures swimming around, noticeable by the movements they make. Suddenly, two spouts of water emerge from its surface in snake-like shapes, writhing in various ways and reaching several feet above the water. A moment later, another water elemental rises from the water, this one in a humanoid shape that reaches four feet high. It begins gesturing towards Dolor and the others with its liquified arms and hands, apparently communicating in its own bubbly language.
“I knew this would come in handy,” Dolor says as he casts Comprehend Languages and begins conversing with the elemental being.
After a few minutes of conversation back and forth between the elemental and Dolor, the tiefling recaps for the others.
“It says we don’t look like the others, ‘the robed ones,’ and we aren’t cruel like them. I think they might be prisoners.”
In the spirit of friendship, Bilwin offers his magical, always filled beer stein to the human-shaped elemental. “Here, I don’t know if you drink beer, that might actually be cannibalism for you, but it’s how we make friends.”
It looks at the stein closely, inspecting it without touching it, and then gurgles in communication and pats Bilwin on the head.
Dolor translates, “No mood for fighting today. Friend offer escape, but tiny. No fit. Like this water. And shiny things,” it points downward, to the coins in the bottom of the pool.
“One of you in room,” and it points towards the hall on the south wall. “Look for robes that wave wand and watch eye. Nearby, another creature, one of fish, not friend of robes, live here.” It points down again, “Shiny things mine.”
Bilwin thanks the water element and tosses it a gold coin, which it deftly catches and then quickly tosses to one of the snake-like elementals, who begins playing catch with the other.
At the end of the ten-foot hall they discover a closed door that also happens to be locked. Dolor pulls his lockpick set from a pocket and kneels in front of it. In a matter of seconds the rogue defeats the mechanism, surprised that he did so quickly and without triggering any traps. He pulls the wooden door towards himself, peering into a small, dark, damp cell. Two pipes cross the ceiling, similar to the larger room with the pool, and are noticeably leaking, as though it’s intentional. Water streams unevenly down the walls towards a drain in the middle of the floor, flowing around a dejected-looking gnome sitting in the driest spot available to them.
Grindlefoot pokes his head into the cell, “Umberto?”
“Stephen? Is that you? Are you real? Your voice sounds different than I remember from university, but I could be hallucinating in this infurating darkness.”
“My name’s Grindlefoot and Lord Neverember sent us to find you, among others that have been kidnapped.”
“Oh lovely, what fortune! Let’s be gone!” The gnome historian pushes himself up from the wet floor, his soggy clothes sagging uncomfortably. Seeing that he could use some assistance, Dolor casts Prestidigitation and the gnome’s wet clothes suddenly warm up and dry out.
“Now that’s a lovely spell! Much obliged, my boy.”
Bilwin casts Light on the gnome’s belt. “Before we leave, would you mind telling us how you came to be imprisoned here?”
“I’m Umberto Noblin, a historian and author. I specialize in deities of all sorts, but the nefarious ones seem to be the most interesting. Have you read any of my books? Let’s see, there’s The Unmaking of the Gods: Apocrypha on Deific Demise and Succession or The Severed Spark: A Study of Divine Fragments and Cosmic Erosion. What about The Pantheon Beyond the Veil: Studies in Proto-Deities and Ascending Infidels?”
Mond responds before the others, “No sir, I haven’t read those. I did experience your lecture where you set a chair on a table and tasked students with proving its existence. One of the students wrote a few words on their paper, walked to your desk, handed it to you, and left the room. Everyone was astounded.”
“Ah, yes, a student worthy of my time! ‘What chair?’ they wrote. Beautiful answer, absolutely stunning!”
Gven adds, “Clever! But to the task at hand, can you tell us more about this current situation? Anything about the robed ones?”
“Apologies, my lady.” He looks up at Gven in the dim light projected from his belt, “Oh, you’re a large one aren’t you! Yes, yes, of course I can tell you what I know. It’s not much, though. They grabbed me off the street, brought me here, threw me in this gastly room—without even a dry spot to warm myself—and fed me this monstrosity of a food-like substance.” He points at a metal bowl filled with slop on the floor next to him and kicks it across the tiny space. It clangs loudly against the stone wall before clattering to the floor and settling into an ever-slowing rhythmic pulse, eventuallyl coming to a stop.
Dolor presses, “Were you researching anything in particular? Something that might have caught their interest, leading them to kidnap you?”
The small-framed gnome hesitates, then looks around the room and at the open door. “Well, recently I’d taken an interest in a particularly nasty character named Vecna. He’s a lich with a god complex who was betrayed by his most trusted lieutenant, Kas. They fought, and they fought, and they fought, until Vecna finally claimed victory. In that victory, Vecna threw Kas across the multiverse—through completely different planes of existence—and the warlord transformed into a vampire. Their hatred and contempt for each other burns as brightly now as it ever did. These robed zealots are Vecna’s servants. Beyond that, I’m not sure of their goal.”
The group has learned the secret of Umberto Noblin, an historian who secretly specializes in Vecna’s lore and history, including his relationship with a warlord named Kas.
The adventurers escort Umberto to the main gate, where the guards, once again, promise to arrange for the victim’s safe travels to Lord Neverember’s mansion.
Returning to Hallix Mausoleum, they reenter the crypts and make their way to the room with the caved-in corner, with the painted eye on the elevated door.
Grindlefoot turns to the others, “Who has that bloody rag we found under the grate? I have an idea.”
Mond retrieves the rag from his bag of holding—the others curious at why he kept it—and hands it to the gnome. He Wild Shapes into a giant dog, standing easily 30 inches tall at its haunches—almost as tall as Grindlefoot’s head. The body is rectangular and heavily muscled, with a broad, deep chest. What grabs the attention of the others is the massive head, somewhat square-shaped, with deep wrinkles in its forehead, a dark mask covering its muzzle, lengthy drooping jowls, and V-shaped ears that hang close to its cheeks.
Bilwin exclaims, “You’re a mastiff! Beautifully done, mate!” He reaches over to pet Grindlefoot on his square head, “What a good boy you are! Such a good widdle boy! Such a big cutie-pie, aren’t ya.”
Grindlefoot’s mastiff wags its tail then takes several deep sniffs of the bloody rag and then begins investigating the room’s floor.
Gven casts her only spell, Speaks with Animals and barks at Grindlefoot. “What’s the plan, dog-gnome?” A barking conversation ensues between the half-orc and the mastiff-gnome. Moments later, she turns to the others. “He’s going to track the scent from that cloth, perhaps it will lead us to one of the other kidnap victims.”
As she finishes her translation, Grindlefoot barks in success and runs up the small stairwell, towards the door with the painted eye. “He wants us to open it.”
Once the door is open, the mastiff runs into the room with the four bells, sniffing along the way, and goes to the other door, which they haven’t investigated yet. Without hesitating, the massive dog jumps into the door, crashing it open and barrels through.
The adventurers follow Grindlefoot into the unexplored room to find four robed cultists sitting at a long table with one standing next to them. The seated figures are listening to the one standing berate them for some unknown failure. “I am the Teeth of Vecna and you’re the Memories of Vecna! Do I make myself clear?”
As the robed figure finishes their sentence, Grindlefoot catapults himself down the short stairway, mirror image to the stairs in the other room, and lunges at the zealot with teeth bared. The robed figure moves in time, barely escaping the punishing bite of the mastiff’s jaws.
Suddenly a cloud of mist appears where the cultist stood and he reappears at the opposite side of the room. Above him, painted on the high wall, there is a large eye staring at them from within the grip of a withered hand. The robed leader points at the adventurers, “Get them, you fools! Kill them!” The fanatics jump up from the table and spread out, moving towards the group.
A blazing luminescence falls from the air onto the leader, but they dismiss it with a wave of their hand and Bilwin grumbles in frustration. A beer stein suddenly appears in the air next to the dwarf and an almost imperceptible blast of force smashes into the cultist, slamming them against the wall at their back.
One of the zealots attacks Dolor with their knife in one hand while curling their fingers upward in the other; they focus their thoughts and a dark energy forms above it. Reaching for Dolor with their magicked hand, he evades their touch. Not even a second later, a scary hand materializes in the air next to them and emits a blast at the tiefling. Dolor dodges faster than the blast can move, taking only a minor hit to his shoulder.
In the tiefling’s hands, Gleaming blade erupts into green flames and he thrusts it into his attacker’s side, forcing them to bend over in agony.
Another of the believers looks at Bilwin, raises his hand and drops fiery undulations on the dwarf’s head. Bilwin’s faith in Hanseath is strong and he suffers no damage from the attack. Another scary, dark-colored hand pops up next to Bilwin’s attacker and blasts the dwarf, who is caught off guard and pushed backwards a step in pain.
The third zealot lunges at Mond with their hand outstretched, “Grovel at my feet, you non-believer!” The sorcerer is able to resist the compulsion with a Counterspell. In response to his failure, Mond’s attacker manifests a smoky hand with its middle finger sticking up, insulting the half-elf.
The last of the zealots, turns to engage Gven before realizing that she’s easily a whole foot taller. They look at her chest, where her knee-length coat is unbuttoned allowing her freedom to move, then slowly bend their head upward to look in her eyes. They extend their hand and close it forcefully, “Stay where you are!” Gven feels the compulsion wash over her, but resists and gives them a tiny smile. A dark hand appears floating next to her attacker and moves faster than the half-orc, slapping her fully across the cheek and turning her head violently to the side.
Gven slowly turns back to face the smaller human fanatic, “Get ready.” In one smooth motion, she pulls Tempest Edge from its scabbard and in the upward stroke, slices cleanly through the attacker’s bicep, causing them to scream out in pain. On her downward stroke, the half-orc cleaves through the forearm, leaving them with a completely useless appendage and barely standing.
Standing within a few feet of the half-orc, Dolor sees his opportunity and ends her attacker’s life with a quick thrust of Gleaming Blade, still burning in green flames.
Mond looks around at their enemies and decides to leverage their apparent advantage by casting Slow, which causes three of the four remaining zealots to move at half their normal speed.
Grindlefoot, still wearing the shape of a giant mastiff, grabs hold of a zealot by the thigh and tears a small piece of robe—along with flesh—away, shaking his square head angrily. Close by, Gven barks to him, “Good boy, Grindle! Do it again, boy!” He growls at the frightened cleric, whose blood drips from his jowls.
The fanatic leader sees the devastation in the room, looks at the group, and yells, “No more! This ends now and you heathens shall die!” Lifting their hands towards the group, a large sphere of fire erupts from their fingers, shooting across the room to explode in the middle of the adventurers, as well as the other zealots. One of the clerics exclaims loudly, “You asshole! We’re in the line of fire!” Another of them falls to the floor, engulfed in flames and quickly disintegrates into ashes.
Everyone else is briefly swallowed up by the Fireball, but they survive the fiery attack and are left smoldering. Dolor reacts faster than anyone else, points a finger at the leader and utters a phrase in Infernal. Surrounded in hellish flames, the cultist screams out in agony.
“Your friends are right, you are an asshole!” Bilwin slams the butt of his battle axe on the ground while pointing his other hand at the zealots’ leader. A bolt of light charges from the dwarven cleric’s hands at the fanatic, slamming them up against the wall. A second later, the floating beer stein beside Bilwin sends a blast of force at the human. With the stare of the dead, their body slowly slides down the wall into a sitting position, no longer a threat to friend or foe.
Shaken by their leader’s betrayal and defeat, one of the two remaining cultists attacks Bilwin, but fails to get close. The other is too distraught and hurt to attempt any attacks, other than a poorly disguised faint at the dwarf.
Staggering from the fiery onslaught from the leader, Gven swings twice at one of the cultists, but misses both times.
Enraged by the leader’s attack and running on the adrenaline of his Hellish Rebuke, Dolor turns to the remaining zealots. Gleaming Blade burns brightly with green flames as the tiefling decapitates one of the fanatics and removes the other’s right arm at the elbow.
The lone enemy agonizes in pain, but refuses to surrender as it faces the group of adventurers who have decimated its comrades. Mond approaches them with unexpected quickness, reaches out with his shadow-wreathed hand, and grips their shoulder. Emanating from the point of Mond’s touch, their body begins to rapidly decay and in a matter of seconds they crumple to the ground in death. The sorcerer appears rejuvenated, at least to a small degree, as he absorbs what was left of the enemy’s health.
“Damnit, eat more kale! I needed that extra health.”