Chapter 59
Peering into the immense hall from the door that Bilwin abruptly opened, the dwarf and Dolor see the caged elf hanging from the ceiling in the center of the hall. Six robed figures stand around the poor captive, sweating from the sustained efforts of their spellcasting.
From the northwest corner of the northern wall, the doorway allows them a clear view of the entire chamber. It opens onto a balcony that spans the eighty foot width of the room, extends forty feet from the west wall, and two stairwells on either side descend fifteen feet to the lower floor in the middle of the room, where the captive hangs. Another balcony abuts the eastern wall, almost two hundred feet from its opposite, and can be accessed from the lower floor with stairs on each side.
Standing at the edge of the balcony, a robed human intently watches the ceremony below him, apparently the group’s leader. Hovering behind the man in a protective manner are five one-eyed creatures, exactly like the one they encountered only minutes ago.
Suddenly, the captive elf screams, “Get out of my head! Get out! You can’t have my secrets!”
A one-eyed creature scans the room and sees the two companions; it immediately moves towards them with obviously harmful intentions.
Bilwin sees the monster approaching and instinctively responds by casting Invisibility on himself and Dolor, as well as Gven and Mond, who are standing behind the tiefling. Doing his best to get out of the creature’s path, the dwarven bard quietly moves toward the stairs that lead down to the lower floor and the robed magic-users. The barbarian and sorcerer can suddenly see into the room and understand that it’s most likely something Bilwin did, purposely or not.
Dolor realizes that he’s suddenly invisible, but knows that they’ve been discovered and closes on the leader with Gleaming Blade. Catching the magic-user off guard, the tiefling’s short sword slices through the man’s robes and leaves a trail of blood behind it. Dolor immediately becomes visible to everyone. As the robed man grunts in agony and surprise, Dolor deftly retrieves a healing potion from his belt with his other hand and swigs it, instantly feeling the much needed healing effects.
Whispering to herself, “Here we go again,” Gven moves towards the leader, invokes her barbarian rage, and swiftly pulls Tempest Edge from its sheath. Still invisible, the cult leader doesn’t expect her attack and is, once again, completely surprised by the blade of her greatsword cutting through his flesh. Presuming this is the leader and will attack them with all his power, she summons Tempest Edge’s innate magic and a bolt of lightning streaks through the blue-tinted sword into the cultist. His body convulses from the unexpected energy and she takes further advantage of his state with another swing of Tempest Edge that carves into his side.
Realizing that he’s suddenly under attack and not in a good position to retaliate, the leader dissolves into a mist. Seconds later he reappears on the balcony at the other end of the room, momentarily safe from the swords of Dolor and Gven. He looks deeply into Gven’s eyes, removing the physical distance between them, and whispers “Defend me!” The barbarian considers the command for a mere second before embracing the rage inside her. “Fuck you, wizard.”
Grindlefoot enters the room, taking in the scene around him before deciding his next course of action.
Now that Dolor and Gven are visible, the five one-eyed creatures impassionately descend on them. The first two reach out with their clawed hands and miss the tiefling and half-orc. The third monster stares at Dolor and the rogue feels some of his life force draining away. The two remaining brutes double-team Gven, but only one’s claws connect with her shoulder and her enchanted coat protects her from most of the harm.
Having moved closer to the center of the room, Mond loses his invisibility after a bolt of lightning shoots from his extended hand, striking the leader on the other side of the room. He’s knocked back slightly, but appears to have limited the damage somehow.
Seeing the chanting cultists persecuting the imprisoned elf, Grindlefoot’s anger rises and his only thought is, “How dare they treat anyone that way!” Suddenly the the stone floor below the six sorcerers erupts into pieces that fly through the air. Two of the robed figures are catapulted into the air, disrupting the joint spellcasting.
No longer ensorcelled, the caged elf regains his independent thought, reaches through the bars on the bottom of the prison, and undoes the latch. A hinged door suddenly swings open and the elf falls to the floor, obviously fatigued and in pain, but adeptly lands on his feet.
On the other side of the chamber, the leader suddenly looks fearful. “No! No! You don’t understand what you’ve done!”
Everyone can feel the energy in the room shift; the air goes still and it’s eerily quiet. A purple-tinted wave of energy begins to rip through the room in an unrecognizable pattern and then everything goes dark.
The companions feel wind begin to rush past them as they stand in place, feet firm on the stone floor of the torture chamber. The wind’s speed increases slowly at first, then slightly faster, until it forces them to squint their eyes at the discomfort. The darkness lifts slightly as a blur of multi-colored lights start to illuminate the area. It no longer resembles the room where they think they still stand.
Creatures appear around them, undefined in form or species and unaware of the companions’ presence. The only discernable part of their bodies are their left hands which seem to have a symbol tattooed or emblazoned on them. Looking more intently, the companions can tell it’s a hand with an eye in the palm. The same symbol they’ve seen throughout the tunnels under Neverdeath Graveyard, the hand and eye of Vecna.
The otherworldly crowds of cultists shift in their attire and location. Some wear farmers clothes in rural areas, others are garbed in the rags of the poor in large cities, and yet others wear the finery of the nobility surrounded by their wealth. It’s as though they’re seeing a hundred different cities and places in a hundred different worlds.
The scenes shift to Vecna’s cultists dragging people of all species away from their homes, farms, shops, friends, and families. The victims scream in terror, attempting to fight their captors, but fail to gain their freedom.
Attached to each victim is an ethereal line, moving upward and away, all towards the same end. A lich pulls on the supernatural threads of each victim, ripping their secrets from them. Without knowing how, they can tell that each private thought adds power to a glowing sphere in a distant place. They realize that they’re witnessing the realm of the Lord of Secrets, Vecna.
The moment this realization comes to the companions, Vecna’s gaze shifts to them with an intesity they’ve never experienced. As he focuses on them and looks deeply into their souls, once again, the room around them suddenly goes pitch dark.
Surrounded by complete and utter darkness without a sound to be heard, except for the beating of each one’s own heart, realization hits that they’ve each received a dark gift. They can now sense the existence of secrets all around them and have the ability to collect them, then use them for their benefit in powerful ways. Unsure how they received or understand this new, unasked for ability, they collectively recognize it’s a direct link to Vecna.
Gven comes to consciousness lying on her back, again in darkness. Before anything else, the barbarian verifies that Tempest Edge is at her side, an assurance she relies on more often than she cares to admit. Reaching outward and upward, she quickly determines that she’s in a box; most likely a coffin, given their recent exploits.
A muffled voice comes from beyond her enclosure, “A little help, please. I don’t think this is better than that cage. Although, I’m not being tortured…yet.”
Gven tests the coffin’s lid to find that it lifts off with ease, not affixed to the box. Sliding the top to the side and letting it fall to the ground, she sits up to see Bilwin is already sitting up and looking at the stars in the night sky. Moments later, Dolor climbs out of a casket to the half-orc’s other side and walks over to the one where the voice is coming from. The tiefling lifts the lid, which also wasn’t attached, but the elf inside failed to even try to open it.
“Thank you! While I appreciate your,” his mouth twists in a derisive manner, “rescue, I fail to see how this is much better than my previous situation.”
Looking around, the group sees that they’re in a ten foot deep pit, roughly twenty feet square to fit their six coffins along with a handful of others. The stars in the dark sky tell them it’s nighttime, but they have no idea of the exact time.
Cocking his head, Grindlefoot listens intently. “Do you hear that? Is that slathering and gnashing coming from above us?”
Looking to the ledge above them, they see several ghoulish figures peering over the side at them. The monsters have surrounded the pit, three to each side.
Grindlefoot is the first to react, with a few words and motion of his hands a strong wall of wind rises from the ground at two of the pit’s upper edges, forming a right angle. The six ghouls shiver in response to the wall, apparently hurt by its force. Preparing for the monsters to retaliate, the halfing druid jumps from the coffin with ease, casting Shillelagh on his staff, already in his hands.
As one, the twelve ghouls descend into the mass grave and attack the companions. Two jump at Gven, who’s able to use one’s momentum to throw it across the coffin and the other misses her arm, scratching the coffin she’s still sitting in. The half-orc lowers her body back into the coffin and rolls sideways with all her strength, toppling it over. As it falls to the ground, she gracefully rolls to her feet and pulls Tempest Edge from its sheath.
Dolor isn’t quite so fortunate as two of the undead creatures converge on the tiefling, slashing wildly with their clawed hands. “Damnit, I’m starting to get pissed.” Embracing his infernal nature, the tiefling points his hand at one of the ghouls and it’s encased in flames. As it burns to its end, Dolor turns to the other, “Sure you want some of this?”
Meanwhile, two ghouls rush Grindlefoot, who moves nimbly, evading their clawed attacks with ease.
Mond is able to deflect the attacks of two others with a barrier of magical force. As much as they try, their claws fail to reach the sorcerer.
With a look of surprise, Bilwin realizes that he’s still in the coffin as two of the monsters assault him. They’re able to take advantage of the dwarf’s unpreparedness and scratch him in several places with their infected claws. The dwarf feels the poison quickly run through his body, moving through his veins and paralyzing him.
The elf was able to exit his coffin, but wasn’t prepared to defend himself from yet another foe. While he steps aside to elude one attacker, the other’s claws scrape down his arm, causing deep gouges in his delicate skin. Like Bilwin, the elf soon finds himself paralyzed in place, unable to move, only watch the scene unfold before him.
Dolor looks at the ghoul in front of him then to the other attackers, quickly deciding his next action. “I told you. You don’t want any of this.” He holds his hands up in front of him with thumbs touching and fingers spread and a sheet of flames bursts forth, encompassing several of the ghouls. When the flames clear, five of the creatures lie on the ground in ashes. “Told you.”
Four of the ghouls are standing over the immobilized dwarf, looking to feast on their victim. With a full swing of her magically glowing greatsword, Gven decapitates one of them, but misses another on the backswing.
Mond sees the five remaining ghouls and makes the same hand gestures as Dolor did only moments ago, “He told you!” Another sheet of flames shoots from the sorcerer’s hands, enveleloping the remaining attackers, swiftly turning two of them into ashes.
Faster than one of the ghouls anticipates, Grindlefoot takes a long step to propel his small body at it, spinning his staff in attack. The magicked wooden weapon connects solidly with the undead, poking deep into its midsection and causing it to stumble backwards.
The other ghouls move to feast on the two paralyzed companions, two hovering over the elf and one over Bilwin. Both victims take considerable damage from the bites.
Dolor smoothly pulls Gleaming Blade from its scabbard, utters a few words, and it erupts into green flames. Moving to the ghoul feasting on Bilwin, the tiefling stabs it through the shoulder and it falls lifeless to the ground. Turning towards another ghoul, Dolor uses the energy from his body’s spin to add force to his sword stroke and cleanly removes its head.
Only one ghoul remains, still feasting on the paralyzed elf they already saved once. Gven takes the few steps towards the creature, bringing Tempest Edge into a wide, sweeping circle above her head. The greatsword gains momentum as she reaches her opponent, coming full circle in front of her just as the blade connects with its shoulder in a downward motion. Without a battle cry or comedic quip, the barbarian cleaves through the ghoul, from its shoulder to its hip, cutting it in half.
Several minutes later, Bilwin and the elf regain their ability to move and introductions ensue.
“I’m Elden Keyward, and you have my utmost gratitude for rescuing me. Please ignore my comments about wanting to go back. I was, um, in shock, I think.”
Both Elden and Bilwin whisper a few words and their wounds magically smooth over, the skin healing underneath the sticky blood.
Eventually, the group climbs the sides of the pit to see where they are and get their bearings. Perhaps they’re back in Neverwinter or another part of Neverdeath Graveyard. What they find confirms that they’re in Neverdeath Graveyard, but not the version they left.
The stone vaults and tombs are somehow twisted, as though they’ve been bent by some magic. The vaults and walls are covered with slimy vines that seem dead even as they move on their own. Looking closely at the trees, they notice the jagged way the limbs connect to each other, the distinct lack of leaves, and their dull gray coloring. Looking up to the sky, the stars look as though they’re swimming in oil, not the usual clear or cloudy night sky.
Elden sighs, “This isn’t good, but it’s not surprising. We’re in Evernight. It’s a mirror plane of Neverwinter, populated only by the undead. We need to find a crevice of dusk to get back to our plane. Let’s head towards the market, we might get lucky there.”
Dolor whispers, “That depends on your definition of lucky.”