The Book of Brynwick Nibnibbler

## **Background**

This chronicle was kept by Brynwick Nibnibbler as a first-hand account from the PC’s perspective. As such, there are times the narrator is unreliable, and while events and conversations are largely accurate, comments on relationships, motives, and the like may be faulty.

There will undoubtedly be errors in spelling and formatting, and as this was a homebrew campaign, there may be deviations from what is considered “canon” D&D lore.

Please, enjoy the story.

## **The Book of Brynwick Nibnibbler**

*This is the book of Brynwick Nibnibbler: gnome, chronicler, and cleric of Oghma. By Oghma and the mark on my hand, I attest to the accuracy of this account.*

### **Beginning**

Born one auspicious Shieldmeet day, I was recognized from birth as a cleric of Oghma. Whoever Heard- of a gnome cleric? Yet, here I am. My parents, Pergastrek and Tintwise, were not clerics – they were artisans crafting fine calligrapher’s supplies for the clerics and chroniclers of our village.

The clerics raised me, teaching me the Binding and the Covenant. My parents visited me as often as their work would allow, and supplying the temple compound as they did, hardly a week went by that I did not see one or both of them. I know they love me.

Then came my naming day.

When a child follower of Oghma reaches their twelfth birthday, the local clerics perform a private ceremony known as the Naming, where they reveal to the youth their “True Name” – a secret signifier that represents that beings true essence. This name is used only in personal prayer to the Lord of Knowledge and is not shared with anyone since knowing one’s true name gives power over that person. Even close friends and relatives are not told the True Name.

Though only a few priests would attend, my Naming was to be the highlight of our temple activities.

Instead, it was a horror.

My name was given, and almost immediately a dark presence appeared in the midst of the assembly.

I know now this was the Tentacled Lord, called by some the Great Brain.

He attacked me; I resisted.

Somehow, the clerics were able to banish him, but not before he left his mark on me: a distorted symbol on my left hand.

While it doesn’t draw too much attention from those who don’t know its background since I can pass it off as a birthmark or tattoo, I still shudder to think what the result might have been had certain high-level priests not been in attendance for the Shieldmeet festivities.

I survived, but then what? I was a twelve-year-old girl touched by an evil god. Who knew if or when he might return?

It was determined that, for the safety of myself and others, I would remain in the temple complex. Far from a prison, the temple was a haven, of sorts. We provide refuge to adventurers, scholars, and other travelers. I recorded their tales, and fast became adept at discerning truth from embellishment.

Some of our guests required protection of various kinds. I lost count of the times I sat through the night.

Not all of them made it.

I visited the town occasionally, always with a high-level cleric or two, and my parents still visited. However, we grew apart. Instead of talking or sharing a meal, they wrote letters. Still, they waved and smiled when they saw me. At least their business didn’t suffer.

This was my life for seventy-eight years.

Then, on yet another Shieldmeet night when I had turned ninety years of age, Oghma appeared to me in a vision.

“FILL THE SCROLL”

The clerics were wary of sending me out into the world, and understandably so, yet finally Oghma confirmed his task for me in the high priest’s Binding.

Uncertain of where to start, it was suggested I head towards Littlegrove, a town but a few days’ travel from the temple and which was to soon celebrate the highlight of its year: the Great Festival to Eldath.

### **Little Grove**

#### *Arrival in Little Grove*

Arriving there, I let a room and had just settled in when I heard a cry from somewhere outside.

I am not one to investigate. But these are not normal times, so I went outside.

I’m a gnome. I’m used to being overlooked. Not this time.

I was noticed by a group of people standing around two clearly incapacitated people.

Little did I know this group would, over the next few hours, become my closest friends. Trauma will do that.

* Jii, a changeling rogue

* Rylan, a drow rogue

* Thea, a half elf bard

* Feugo, a dragonborn warlock (?)

* Ruinfea, a high elf druid

At first they tried to convince me the men were simply drunkards. However, I am a servant of Oghma. I’d like to think I can see a lie when I hear one. The truth is they were tracking down a group calling themselves “The Liberation” – a group composed of oppressed races plotting to blow up the town of Littlegrove and start a race war in the Empire.

I had to make a choice: try to stop The Liberation or go back to my room, go about my business, and see if anything happened. I’ve spent nearly eight decades being decidedly non-adventurous. But I am a knowledge cleric, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. And besides, what if this was the adventure set for me by Oghma?

I was concerned they would kill the men they’d captured, but instead they crafted a potion to wipe their recent memories. They are definitely unlike any group of adventurers I’ve ever written about.

I suppose that since I joined the group, “they” should be “we”.

So we tracked some footprint into a tunnel. Well, it’d be a tunnel to other races. This was easily ten feet high. The tracks ended at a grate set high in the wall.

Jii jumped up, grabbed the grate, and tore it from its settings. Everyone else was able to clamber up, but I needed help. Of course, all this caused a commotion and we attracted the attention of some guards. Ryland and Thea used used skills to distract them, and we were able to make our way to a local cemetery.

We spread out to investigate. I climbed a monument for a better view while Jii climbed an even taller monument. We saw six open graves with ominous sacks placed next to them.

Rylan investigated a mausoleum with a mysterious symbol and keyhole. Someone determined that the symbol was abyssal in nature but the door had (apparently) not been opened in some time. Maybe that was me? I remember Rylan asking for a cleric. And that’s me.

Jii blew the door open.

I began to see this group as somewhat reckless.

Inside the mausoleum we found some kind of ritual in progress: purple candles surrounding an urn gave off a reddish-purple glow, filling the chamber.

Using magic, I blew the candles out and the urn went flying. The lid stayed on, but Jii opened it. It was full of eyeballs. Jii licked them. Yuck.

We cast find traps and detect good and evil. No traps, but there was a secret passage under the mausoleum with a distinct evil presence about it.

Fuego tried to open a sarcophagus (?). We thought he was moving it, but soon it became apparent that something else was opening the lid from the inside.

A long, thin tentacle rose, followed by even more tentacles. They spread out and attached themselves to the eyeballs.

A beholder.

We fought the beholder, but I don’t remember much about the fight other than Fuego kept casting fire-based spells, singeing most of us and burning poor Thea’s eyebrows off.

Rylan cut into the beholder’s corpse in search of the fabled stone at their center while I took notes. He found one and kept it. Ruinfea kept an eyeball.

What she’d do with the eyeball nobody knew at the time.

I suggested we go back outside before we went down; I gathered some graveyard dirt and other spellcasting materials.

Cutting into the sacks, we discovered each one contained a corpse.

Murdered corpses.

Missing their eyes.

Also in the sacks were bottles of liquid, which Rylan determined were explosives, and hidden on the bodies were very magical items:

* A wand of web
* A ring of ram
* A lute of healing
* A stone of brightness

There might be some things I’ve forgotten.

Then it was back into the mausoleum and down into the tunnels.

We soon stumbled upon a mostly-devoured corpse and two smaller creatures similar to the larger one we’d just killed and rather crudely dissected.

And they spoke. They cried as children:

Help Us!

Beholderkin, which can only mimic what they’ve heard. I don’t want to think about how they heard those voices.

Jii, amazingly, talked back to them. They responded by calling Rylan “Daddy”.

I’m not sure he’s ready to be a father, let alone to these monsters.

But it’s clear these creatures aren’t here of their own free will; they’ve been summoned.

I think it’s Fuego who figures out that we can ask them how to banish them.

We do, and they wave goodbye.

Perhaps this gesture of goodwill will serve us well in the future.

A gelatinous cube guarded the next chamber. The rest of the party managed to sneak by it, but Ruinfea and I found ourselves trapped. Jii sacrificed a dagger to distract it, and we crossed the passage safely.

In some ways I almost wish we’d turned back.

The next room contained a most unsettling scene: two large statues, graffitied in blood. Between them, a sarcophagus draped in purple cloth and a large red stone atop it. Perhaps the stone was red, or maybe it was light from within. For as we examined the room, the gem began to pulse with light and, as we watched, eyes sprouted inside.

A voice spoke to us. It wanted to know who we were and why we had summoned it. Rylan spoke for us, explaining that we did not summon it and were, in fact, trying to stop the people who did.

Unlike the beholderkin, who seemed glad to be sent back to whatever realm they came from, this thing seemed pleased to be here, and suggested that it wanted to thank the ones who summoned it.

I cannot explain how, but Rylan convinced it to leave us alone and unharmed.

It was then we learned just how close to disaster we had come. This creature, this voice, was none other than the Great Mother herself, ruler of the 6th layer of the abyss: the Realm of a Million Eyes.

I shudder to think what might have happened.

Then, just as Rylan finished speaking and we were discussing our next moves, we heard something down a side tunnel. We readied ourselves for action.

A dwarf emerged, looked at us, and demanded to know first of all what we were doing in the tunnels and second of all if we’d seen an axe around.

It was easier to answer their second question first. We hadn’t seen any axe. What was a dwarf looking for an axe for? Dwarves have them in plenty.

We backtracked a bit at that point and introduced ourselves. The dwarf introduced herself as the barbarian Hetzel, looking for a famous axe stolen from her family by the name of Gramma’s Hammer. Now that is a unique name for an axe.

We, in turn, explained what we were doing. I felt glad there was another of the small folk with me, but when I told her I was a chronicler, she said she was illiterate. I offered to teach her, but she seemed uninterested in learning.

Hmm.

In the end, we decided it was best for all of us to stick together. Who knew what else might be down in these murder tunnels?

Examining the room again, someone found a secret door.

Of course we went down it.

The walls of stone gave way to walls of something pulsating. It looked a bit like the flesh of the beholder, but I can’t be certain.

And then Jii went and licked the walls. What is with him? He’s too rash. It took both Rylan and myself to stabilize him. Thank the gods.

It was warm down here, wherever here was, and soon the passageway opened into a large, torchlight chamber. In the center of the chamber was a void, and on a precipice over the void something stood chanting.

A ritual.

Rylan and Jii attacked and killed him, ending the ritual . . . or so we thought.

Apparently it needed blood, and thanks to someone’s dagger going through the chanter’s neck, the ritual was complete.

From the depths rose another beholder, larger than the first but definitely not the monstrosity from the desecrated chamber.

Ruinfea cast a fog, shrouding us, while Jii attempted to confuse it by mimicking the voices we’d heard coming from the beholderkin.

An unfortunate draft from below exposed Jii, and though we tried to attack and distract it, it seemed intent on consuming him. All seemed lost but at the last moment Rylan threw himself in front of Jii and dove into the beholder’s gaping maw. We thought he was lost, but then against all odds I watched as Rylan cut himself out of the beholder’s side.

The good news was that the beholder was dead.

The bad news was that the beholder was dead.

It had been floating above the chasm, and now that it was dead, it began to drop to the bottom of gods knows where.

Jii grabbed Rylan, Fuego grabbed Jii, I grabbed Fuego, and who knows who else grabbed who as we slipped and slid across the floor – determined that, if we went down, we’d go down together. Someone gained a footing and inch by inch we brought each other to safety.

Exhausted, we made our way to Rylan’s house in Littlegrove.

I met the faerie dragon they called Little One and looked around for a place to sit and rest. I found one and had just settled in when Jii threw a noodle at me. Rylan was cooking pasta, I was trying to settle down, and Jii thought it’d be a good idea to throw something at me. It hit me in the face.

Really, Jii?

Thea brought me a blanket and soon I’d nestled down on the chair and was fast asleep.

I woke up several hours later to the smell of Thea brewing tea. She offered me some, but I’m not a tea drinker. Thankfully, Rylan appears to have a well-stocked pantry, and coffee was soon brewing.

I enjoyed my coffee while listening to the conversation around me.

Hetzel wanted to get filled in on what was going on and she and Rylan started arguing about the nature of right and wrong and how best to proceed. Somehow I got dragged into it.

“You’re a cleric, Bryn!”

Yes, I am a cleric of Oghma. But until a few days ago, I’d never left my village. I stumbled into this whole thing and just hoped I was making the right decisions.

Exasperated, I told them as much.

Seeing me in distress seemed to settle everyone else down. Interesting. Do they think I’m weak? If only they knew.

Caution is not weakness.

#### *Stormosin*

Eventually it was decided to make our way to a local tavern and meet with someone the rest of the group had met earlier.

Note: the following events were recorded after several hours of mental and physical distress. I have done my best to record the events, but I fear my accuracy may falter. Oghma forgive me.

At the tavern we met with none other than the captain of the guard, one Comforte Roselid. After Hetzel and I introduced ourselves, and after Rylan summarized what had happened since they last met, Comforte revealed she’d arranged a meeting with the council of Littlegrove. We’d be able to state what we’d found and ask for their official support.

So, off we went to meet the council. Little did we know that meeting would change our course entirely.

The council of Littlegrove consisted of three individuals: Olivia Tealeaf, Joshua Overhill, and Adrian Oakengrove. We introduced ourselves. I both love and hate my name. It is exactly who I am, yet everyone laughs at it. I can tell.

Rylan and Fuego and Ruinfea did most of the talking for our part, while Overhill and Oakengrove seemed to represent the Council. Tealeaf sat silently knitting, or perhaps crocheting. She seems kind.

Overhill and Oakengrove reluctantly accepted our story and agreed to help us – somewhat. The city watch would aid our progress, and they’d already sent word to the capitol that assistance might be required, but they wouldn’t pay us up front.

Not ideal, but at least we’d have backup and not be considered dangerous.

And then things turned dangerous.

General Liliahil Stormosin is a name I won’t soon forget. She was sent from the capitol, and she dismissed us. No, she did more than dismiss us.

First, she denigrated us for our races or our alliances, particularly Rylan, Ruinfea, and Fuego. I don’t even know if she saw me. I cast to see her alignment; everyone in the room came up, well, if not good, at least not actively evil. Even Rylan. That was a surprise. And even Oakengrove, who I neither like nor trust but at this point have no reason to suspect of being anything other than a politician.

I also tried reading her mind, but that’s an iron safe I won’t soon crack. Lawful good with an iron will, certain in their own certainty. A nasty piece of work, indeed.

Then, Stormosin deigned to dismiss everything as rumor. She sat at the table with the council of Littlegrove and told them there was nothing to worry about.

The arrogance was palpable. Jii didn’t help things when, as the general rose from her chair, he kicked it. I don’t know what form he was in at the time, but he and Stormosin squared off, staring each other down.

Rylan must know more about her than the rest of us, because she opened the door so the public could see what was happening and proceeded to tear into the general as if she were a disobedient child. He challenged Stormosin’s loyalty as a Paladin!

Stormosin literally stormed off in a huff.

And then, finally, Tealeaf spoke.

“Bitch”

I think I love her.

But nothing good could come of this, as we were soon to discover.

Certain the general would cause trouble, we conferred with Comforte. We no longer had any support from the town council. How could we?

Comforte promised to post a guard outside Rylan’s house and gave us information regarding a certain safehouse.

By the time we got back to Rylan’s, the guard had already been posted. We came to the difficult decision to split the party. Thea, Hetzel, and I would go to the safehouse under the assumption that all of us together would draw attention and that we were the least likely to draw the ire of Stormosin. The others would say behind.

We made our way to the safehouse: a brothel called the Rare Dhalia. We held an awkward conversation with the woman at the front desk and an even more awkward conversation as Thea and I tried to explain to Hetzel what a brothel actually is.

Hetzel ordered a bath (for herself alone!) and then we waited. To be honest, Hetzel is growing on me.

Comforte arrived, and informed us that Stormosin had her own meeting with the council.

Littlegrove would be spared the wrath of the Empire at the cost of Comforte’s position, since she was the one who’d vouched for us.

We weren’t so lucky. Apparently she and her soldiers were looking for us. Comforte said she’d go check on the others. Soon after she left, we heard a commotion outside. The owner came to us and said we needed to leave right away. She secreted us out a back entrance and we followed the noise to the town square.

Rylan, Ruinfea, and Fuego were locked in an outside cage, guarded by four soldiers. We were certain Stormosis was nearby, while Jii and Little One were nowhere to be seen.

Thinking ahead, Thea disguised the three of us as we considered our options.

While we debated, the situation drifted dramatically. Stormosin appeared and had Rylan brought to a platform at the center of town. She began to talk of treason.

Seeing certain of the guards busy with Rylan, I attempted to have Thea message Ruinfea to use her ring of ram to break free. Unfortunately, before the message could be sent, soldiers came for Runinfea, taking her to a smaller platform facing Rylan’s and locking her securely in stocks.

Rylan began protesting the general’s actions, citing law and precedent. Thea used barding inspiration to turn the crown against Stormosin. Sensing a riot, Stormosin agreed to let an elderly paladin examine Rylan, only to ignore his insistence that Rylan was not evil.

The crowd continued to murmmer, and Stormosin, angrily pontificating on examples and ruination, began whipping Rylan.

In the commotion, I stepped forward and demanded the right to speak, knowing Hetzel and Thea would have my back. Stormosin demanded to know who I was. Foolishly, I gave my real name.

(I was told later that, about this time, Thea was able to pick to lock on the cage and release Fuego.)

In anger, Stormosin ordered her soldiers to arrest me, too. But anger overcame her, and she released a shock wave through the crowd.

Miraculously, I stood my ground. In the wave’s wake, I once again demanded to be heard.p

I do not know why I did this. I’m not usually one to speak up. But everyone seemed so rash, I suppose I thought that if we just talked rationally things would get cleared up.

Against all odds, she let me speak.

And for the first time in nearly seventy-eight years, I spoke my mind. I told her of all the good my friends had done. I pointed out the lunacy of the accusation of treason for kicking a chair. I appealed to truth and reason and right. I appealed to history and morality. I felt the crowd still with me. I felt the support of my friends, regardless of the state they were in. I poured every ounce of my will into my words. I swore on my god, my bond, and my hand.

My words fell on deaf ears. Where I heard exoneration, she heard admission. Fine. If she wanted to play that way, why punish Rylan when it was Jii that apparently created the bigger offense?

She asked if Jii would answer for himself. How should I know? I’m neither his keeper nor a mind reader.

Well, most of the time.

Jii showed himself and once again squared off with Stormosin. She demanded he back down. He silently refused, but neither did he give any indication he was going to attack her.

Some would say Stormosin gave us every opportunity to calm the situation. I say she’s just as much at fault.

Let the record show that she cast the first true blow.

First she ordered her soldiers to continue holding Rylan and to arrest Jii. Given her state, Rylan was held down with no problem. However, Jii changed his face, striking fear into the soldiers.

Then hell broke loose. General Liliahil Stormosin called down holy fire on the square: on us, on her soldiers, and on the crowd - on innocents. The fire burned brightly, but eerily changed from bright yellow to a tinge of green.

I cannot say if she is truly an oathbreaker, but her alignment has definitely changed. I think she has abandoned her god.

Some god other than Oghma protected me, and I think I have Jii to thank for that. Perhaps Fuego.

We still took massive damage. Those that could fight did their best, but Stormosin seemed to shrug off our attacks.

Remember: we acted in self-defense.

I was angry and scared and frustrated. This bastard bitch of a human being had refused to listen to truth and was bent on destroying not only me and my friends, but the entire town in a fit of rage.

I’m not very good at attack spells. Sure, I know a few, but I focus more on protection and healing. It’s what I do. Well, it’s what I try to do.

But I wanted more than anything to make this godsforsaken coward choke on her own words.

Under most circumstances, the spell “create food and water” provides much needed refreshment. Today, though, Oghma must have guided my thoughts as I focused this particular spell on Stormosin’s stomach.

She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to deliver another curse, then stopped. She shuddered, heaved, and then proceeded to vomit copious amounts of meat and water.

Serves her right.

That took enough out of her for Jii and Rylan (who freed himself during the rain of fire) to subdue her and tie her up shibari-styl, suitable for delivery back to the capitol, not as a heroic general, but a war criminal.

If I might allow myself a moment of personal vanity: whatever comes next, for one brief moment I spoke up. I mattered. And, no matter when or how the end comes, that will make all the difference.

Comforte came with the council, then left to tend the wounded while the council asked what happened.

It was once said I was the sarcastic voice of morality, and today I lived up to that description.

“She heard the truth and found it hard to swallow”.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that but it felt good.

Looking around, I saw one of Stormosin’s soldiers remained. I needed him to vouch for us, but he was understandably in shock. So I read his mind. Sensing his discomfort I simply suggested (telepathically) that he calm down and just tell the council was he saw.

He did admirably.

Tealeaf said that, as far as we were concerned, no crime had been committed. In fact, it was Stormosin who should be held responsible for violating the laws of hospitality.

Did I mention that I love her? She’s like my grandma.

The council assured us they’d send letters and messages to the capitol.

Looking around, it soon became obvious that healing everyone was beyond my capabilities. Thankfully, Littlegrove is a center of Eldath worship, and a short trip to the temple saw us healed and refreshed.

#### *Tiago*

We returned to the Dahlia and met up with Comforte. It seemed she wasn’t done dropping news on us. As we discussed the general, she asked, “Well, is her family now a target?”

The thought of that abhorrent woman having a family turned our stomachs. I prayed it was a marriage of convenience.

Regardless, we weren’t about to let harm come to them, either. After all, we’re trying to protect Littlegrove.

We made the decision to meet with the general’s husband: a diplomat by the name of Tiago Stormosin.

Somewhere in all this Jii went and got the things he’d managed to hide when he escaped Rylan’s house. To sum things up, a group of casters came to arrest all of us. Jii was able to hide under the bed with Little One while the others were arrested. He managed to hide or destroy anything that might have been falsely used against us and then slipped out a secret entrance with Little One. He found Comforte coming too late to warn the group, and then made his was to the town square. I think this closes the loop on things.

Back to the tale.

Some of us, including myself, changed into better clothes.

Ushered into Tiago’s presence, it seemed Rylan and he were old acquaintances. Without going into detail for the sake of my friend, recall that Rylan is a male drow and Tiago is from a well-connected, wealthy, and influential family.

There was no animosity between them, and Rylan succinctly filled him in. Tiago seemed well aware of his wife’s tendency toward anger. Theirs could not have been a happy marriage.

Once again we introduced ourselves, and for the first time I can recall a non-gnome didn’t immediately laugh. He respected me!

Tiago vowed to begin divorce proceedings, which apparently are quite complicated among elves.

Of course he wanted to leave Littlegrove, but where could he go? He asked about my family, and though we’re not close, we do love each other, and my village is used to protecting travelers of all kinds. Perhaps he can find safety there. I wrote a letter of introduction, gave Sir Tiago directions, and he gifted us a raven.

#### *The Liberation*

Back to the Dahlia we went. Comforte said she’d managed to set up a meeting with a member of the Liberation. As there was still time to spare, she tried getting us to talk about ourselves.

I was the only one even remotely forthcoming, but I can’t remember what I said because I immediately stuffed my mouth with cheese. Social situations make me feel so awkward.

Note: it was at this point I began writing this account.

Rylan helped Ruinfea preserve the eye she picked up from the beholder. She’s nicknamed the eye Chewy. Did the beholders drive her slightly insane? She’s still good, so far as I can tell.

We headed off to a tavern, the Drunken Lizard. It seems the kind of place Jii would be at home in, but he said he had some business to attend to. With the general out of the way, we didn’t argue and let him go.

We passed two guys on the way in, but I’m afraid I don’t remember the next hour or so. I ordered some stewed potatoes (gritty and disgusting) and mead. Well, Rylan convinced me to have some mead, and it went straight to my head. There’s no excuse; I’d never had alcohol before.

From what I understand I became quite tipsy. It was about that time the two gentlemen we passed came inside and tried to kill the bartender for carrying on an affair with one of their wives. Ruinfea and Hetzel threw the potatoes at them and started a fight.

Thea tried to protect me by dragging me under the table. That worked all right and I even managed to summon a spectral mug of mead and slammed it into one of their stomachs.

Unfortunately, Fuego threw the table, exposing me, and when Thea finally took the half-orc down (by putting him to sleep!) he came down right on top of me.

Thea and Fuego got me out, and I shakily got to my feet, only to have a Tiefling come in and spray chalk in my eyes. I knew I shouldn’t have had that mead.

Anyway, the half-orc’s companion was subdued and Rylan put the fear of women in him.

Someone then woke up the half-orc and he proceeded to flirt with Thea!

And finally, the bartender came back in, having fled and been chased down by Comforte. He looked around, tossed us the key, and said to lock up when we were done.

Oh, the Tiefling. He’s Carrion, and he was our contact with the Liberation. It soon became apparent the Liberation was dumb as rocks.

There were five of them in Littlegrove, and it became clear they were being set up by someone.

Carrion was reluctant to name his “conspirators” but did say they had two fighters, a cleric, and artificer, and himself. Their plan was to infiltrate the general’s guards, drug her, and then attack her with a weapon devised by the artificer.

Of course we need to talk to these people. We convinced Carrion to take us to the temple to meet the cleric.

But before we left, we took some booze as payment. I even took some mead. Perhaps I’ll be able to find a tankard of sobriety. I’d like to be able to drink with Hetzel without losing my senses.

Yeah, Hetzel is my friend, despite her disdain for books and words. We’ve joked about her tossing me in battle. She can toss me wherever she wants. I would die for her. I would die for anyone in the group, but Hetzel . . . I know she’s got a thing for Comforte, though.

We returned to the Temple of Eldath, a large structure built on a lakeshore and extending back into the side of a hill.

Fuego noticed that we passed the cemetery on our way.

In the temple, Carrion reluctantly pointed out his accomplice. Immediately Rylan, Fuego, and Ruinfea began questioning him. Hetzel threatened to beat him if he didn’t let me read his mind.

Reading minds is invasive; I don’t like doing it. Besides, it seemed to me that once again we were acting rashly.

I talked everyone down, including the cleric. He told us his part was to heal the survivors of the attack, offer them sanctuary, and secret them out through hidden tunnels if need be. He became agitated when he heard  there might be a mole, and grew concerned when Rylan pointed out someone might have somehow infiltrated the temple.

I suggested casting a zone of truth, to which the cleric readily agreed. It was determined that Fuego, Hetzel, and I would conduct the interrogation with Carrion and the cleric while the rest investigated the temple.

We realized how foolish we’d been when we realized we didn’t even know the cleric’s name. We apologized and thanked him for agreeing to help us. His name is Garret Pimpernell.

I cast the spell and nobody resisted, always a good sign.

Fuego and I were able to confirm the truth of Carrion’s story and learned a few new details. The remainder of their company is/was

* Smiddle “Simmy” Cogturner - artificer
* Raffin & Alas Whane - twin fighters
* oh, and since it might not have been obvious from before, Carrion is a sorcerer.
* Simmy is very eccentric but also very capable, although no one has seen her devise in action.
* Raffin is tough but rash.
* Alas is the newest member of the group and will always look out for her brother.

While Fuego and I tried to figure out the ins-and-outs of the Liberation, Hetzel really showed her value. I’d assumed she was there in case things went pear-shaped. But she asked questions like “are you the mole” and “do you know how to build a bomb”. Obvious questions both Fuego and I overlooked.

Gods I think I love her.

The five of us came to some disturbing conclusions. It became clear that while there is a mole in the Liberation, there are also one or more other groups at work in Littlegrove: the ones framing the Liberation and the ones raising the beholders.

I also began to doubt Comforte, may Oghma forgive me. She’s a competent captain, yet she repeatedly allowed this circus to continue. What was her game?

I dismissed the spell and the rest of the group returned. Comforte was gone.

We had bad news; theirs was worse. Thea and Ruinfea found some strange symbols that, at first, appeared to be pots of incense. Somehow, Thea determined they were not pots of incense, but rather the symbol of a wormy abyssal god whose name I will not record here. Names have power. Rylan discovered many secret doors leading back into the hills. Is it possible our murder tunnels are connected to the temple?

The temple has been desecrated.

Comforte and a young paladin went off to fetch the high priest - the one responsible for the recent renovations.

I was concerned either that Comforte would be killed or that she’d lead our enemies back to us.

But imagine our shock and surprise when she returned with none other than Adrian Oakengrove!

Immediately Rylan began questioning him and shouted for me to cast another zone of truth. Fuego conveyed to Comforte the necessity of restraining Oakengrove. Garrett and Carrion were outraged at the accusation. Thea quickly cast calm emotions on Garret while I cast zone of truth. It failed, but I could sense his resistance. Not a good sign.

Again, Rylan began questioning him. Invoking the god’s name, Adrian claimed he was misunderstood.

Taking advantage of the situation, Fuego took a risk and asked Comforte what we should do with Adrian. Then he asked her why she didn’t arrest the Liberation.

The look on her face was enough to undo me. I should have trusted the fact she didn’t resist.

Distracted, I missed Adrian again invoking the god’s name. I tried to stop him, too late.

In front of us, Adrian changed. His skin fell away to reveal a mass of worms around a central body.

I was filled with dread, something I haven’t felt for seventy-eight years. I watched as the others tried to attack, but it seemed to absorb most of the blows.

Fuego managed to pull Comforte out of the way, but this only drew the creature’s attention to us. It charged, injuring Fuego. Somehow I either got out of the way or it missed me. Oghma preserve me.

Again and again Fuego cast a hellish rebuke, drawing a deep purplish liquid from the creature. Blood?

I came out of my stunned state. This thing wanted to fill me with dread? I’ll show it dread. From the back of my mind came a certain spell I’d once recorded: Toll the Dead.

I cast; the creature failed. It began to vibrate, and then decay. Worms shriveled and shrank until nothing was left but a split, dry husk surrounded by ash. A few worms wriggled on the ground; Jii scooped them into a jar.

We stared in shock. I certainly didn’t expect it to do that. Comforte seemed especially affected. I went over to her.

“I’m sorry . . . for everything. Would you like help?”

Taking an urn from a nearby cleric, she declined.

While she worked, I murmured a prayer. A prayer for her, and the rest of my friends, and even for Adrian. He deserves at least that much.

We talked to other leaders in the temple. We came up with a plan: The clerics would begin working to bless the temple. But what to do about the grounds? What to do about the cemetery, where unconsecrated corpses had been buried in desecrated grounds?

Ruinfea suggested finding someone to control the weather, cause a rainstorm, and then bless the rains. Now why didn’t I think of that?

Finishing her work with Adrian’s remains, Comforte wanted to tell the council, but we weren’t going to leave her alone.

Fuego, Thea, Rylan, Carrion, and myself would continue the investigation. The others would go to what was left of the council.

As we walked along discussing whether we should confront Simmy or the twins.

And then, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t thinking straight. I mean, before I met these people things seemed so straightforward. And then there were beholders and the general and councilman Oakengrove. He was a man, and then he wasn’t, and I killed him.

I’d killed things before, but not a person.

I broke down.

I don’t deserve these friends. They didn’t tell me to suck it up or to forget it or to keep going because we didn’t have time for this - things I’ve heard before when certain of my spells failed.

Instead, they stopped. They talked to me. Thea sat down so she was looking up at me. No one has ever done that before! They assured me that I was not responsible for his death, that I had in fact killed the monster that killed him, and that at the end of they day I had avenged him and allowed his soul to be at peace.

I cried at their kindness.

I hope they’re right, but I can’t help but think I could have done more.

But the fact remained that, despite my existential crisis, we had work to do. We decided to go to Simmy first. After several long moments as she unlocked her door, she let us in.

Like me, Simmy is a gnome.

It soon became clear she couldn’t be the mole. She’s so eccentric and absorbed in her work she didn’t even know what had transpired in the last day in the town square! We could read her motives like a book.

We sent our raven with a message telling the others where to find us and to be on the lookout for twin Dragonborn fighters.

Yeah, we forgot to ask their race before. Good thing we started with Simmy.

As we talked, we heard a commotion outside.

Returning from the council (which was a somber affair), our friends encountered Raffin and Alas, also on their way to Simmy’s.

What started as a standoff looked to be rapidly descending into a fight. Rylan jumped out the window and Jii followed him while the rest of us waited for Simmy to open the door.

Thankfully she opened it before things came to blows, and Carrion ordered everyone inside.

Thus began another round of questioning. Alas and Raffin denied being the mole, but Alas looked agitated. I suggested we cast another zone of truth, since everyone else here had already willingly accepted questioning under such circumstances.

Well, there was Comforte. I need to talk to her at some point.

They very reluctantly agreed. Now I don’t know how much they know about zones of truth, but if you’re going to say you accept it, it’s not good to resist it.

Once again the spell failed.

“Is it working?” Rylan asked

“No,” I replied, “but I can tell you they both resisted”

At those words the twins looked at each other, then at the open window, and made a dash for it.

Rylan tackled Alas and Fuego took down Raffin. Alas tried to pull something from her jacket, but was disarmed by Rylan.

He handed it off to Simmy, and I walked over with her to her bench in case she needed help.

She disassembled an acid bomb.

We all looked at Alas and Raffin, unmoving on the floor.

“So,” someone asked, “where do we go from here?”

#### *Another Liberation*

It was Fuego who made the first move. Intimidating them in Draconic, his scales began to bristle and the scent of elemental flame filled the air. I don’t know exactly what he said, but knowing what I’ve heard of Dragonborn, I imagine he appealed to their honor, with plenty of threats thrown in.

The twins attempted to stare Fuego down, but their gaze soon withered and their eyes drifted down toward the floor. They stopped actively fighting, though they continued to test Jii and Rylan’s holds on them.

“What do you want to know?” asked Alas.

“Everything. Now.” replied Fuego. Raffin looked at his sister with a mix of pain and betrayal and shock.

Alas continued. Of course, she claimed she didn’t set out to betray anyone. (Doesn’t everyone say that?) She was just willing to do more than the others; she was willing to do what was necessary to achieve their ends. What good would letters do? She didn’t feel bad about hurting or killing innocents. To her, there were no innocents, only casualties of war. Frustrated, she’d made contact with others determined to make the Liberation a threat. They even called themselves the Liberation – a deliberate choice to (a) make the Liberation we’d been investigating seem better equipped than it was and (b) deflect blame when the real attack came.

Fuego and Ryland and Thea tried asking her about her new group, but she just went on about the slowness of change and the plight of those who still suffer. It’s clear she sees herself as a liberator.

Hetzel asked her outright who else was in the group, to which Alas replied they’d never given their real name in case something like this ever happened. She didn’t know who we were looking for.

I asked how they contacted each other.

“We wrote letters.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, so writing letters will do some good?”

Alas spit in my face. Well, she tried to, at any rate. Rylan, sensing what was happening, turned her head and changed the direction of the spit so it came back down right in her own face. Jii opened his jaw wide, placed it around Raffin’s head, and started to squeeze – just enough to make things uncomfortable.

“He’s licked things you couldn’t even imagine,” Thea pointed out.

Rylan turned Alas’ head so she could see her brother.

“Where were you supposed to meet?” asked Hetzel. Alas replied that it was her job to make sure the non-threatening Liberation stayed away from the town square. Hetzel quickly realized we needed to be somewhere else.

“What’s your plan?” asked Fuego.

“We’re going to attack the commencement ceremonies in two hours’ time”

“How?”

“An explosion”

“Where?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I was supposed to stay away from the main stage.”

“How many people?” asked Thea.

“Four”

At this point, Rylan let loose some of his anger issues.

I asked if Alas knew anything about the tunnels under the city, and Rylan asked what gods or cultists Alas had allied herself with, but beyond using the tunnels to store certain supplies and planning an escape route, Alas knew nothing of the profane acts taking place.

This still leaves open the question of how many groups we’re actually dealing with. Comforte is of the same opinion: we’re dealing with one group using several smaller, seemingly independent groups to bring terror to Little Grove. She offered to escort the Whanes to jail for processing – suitably restrained, of course.

Jii and Rylan began speaking infernal. I don’t know exactly what was said, but as it was explained later, they were discussing using them as bait to draw out the members of the more dangerous Liberation. Rylan uttered one sentence in common that we all understood: “I trust her (meaning Alas) about as far as Ruinfea can throw her.”

Jii shifted his focus to Raffin, appealing to him as Alas’ clutchmate and Raffin was as shocked as anyone; it’s clear he doesn’t agree with civilian deaths.

Rylan asked about any folks they might’ve met related to the dangerous Liberations. Fuego got Raffin to say he’d recognize them. Rylan tried to convince Alas to redeem herself, but she seemed conflicted.

She’d choose her cause over her blood?

“We don’t actually need her,” Jii eventually said, and immediately he took her shape.

There followed several minutes involving rope: Rylan securing Alas, delivering her over to Comforte, and obtaining a guarantee he’d get his rope back, or at least a replacement 100-ft roll of rope. After some maneuvering, Comforte and two guards carried Alas off on a pole.

Then we had to decide what to do: try to find the people responsible or find and disarm the bomb they planned to set off. In the midst of this, Carrion declared himself an unsuitable leader and asked us to lead him. Well, Rylan to lead him.

Rylan, now the de facto leader, delegated superbly.

Hetzel, Thea, Simmy, and I would try to find and disarm the bomb.

Rylan, Carrion, Fuego, and Ruinfea would observe the crowd.

Jii (as Alas) and Raffin would meander through the square, where Raffin would try to identify anyone he might’ve seen Alas talking to.

Before we left, Simmy let us scrounge for materials. For my part I found some copper wire, straight metal, and dust. There was some excitement over a projectile-shooter called a “gun”, which Jii ended up with. This made a kind of sense as I believe he’s the only one that could actually carry and fire the thing.

Distracted in my search for anything useful, I missed part of the conversation. I looked up to see Jii lick Hetzel, and Hetzel lick him back.

Godsdamn, what do I have to do around here?

In our separate groups, we made our way to the square. More accurately, back to the square. The night before it was the scene of whippings and miracles; today it was set for a grand commencement ceremony.

The cloud cover thickened, threatening rain. Carrying out Ruinfea’s blessed rain plan, no doubt. I nodded in approval.

The square was packed; easily three thousand people or more. Three thousand, and we’re looking for four.

Familiar figures stood center stage: Overhill, Tealeaf, and Garrett, who apparently had taken over the religious duties of Adrian Oakengrove, may the gods have mercy on him.

#### *Bomb*

What follows is a reconstruction of events as the different groups told them later.

Jii and Raffin milled about until Raffin recognized someone: a low-ranked member of the city guard who apparently visited Alas quite a bit. Maybe it was the strain, maybe it was the crowd, but apparently Raffin shut down after that.

Carrion noticed something wrong with the drummer in the band on stage; he said he felt bad magic.

Using “message” it was decided that Thea would try to replace/remove the drummer, while Fuego distracted the guard into a side alley. Amazingly, Thea knew the band’s flautist from bard college: one Mollie Dixon. Mollie and Thea chatted it up; apparently Mollie felt Toby, the drummer, was a decent enough musician but lacked depth. Well, except where it might count.

Now, instead of replacing the drummer, Thea seemed set on a course of reluctant seduction.

Poor Thea.

Meanwhile, Simmy pointed out some new panels that had been added in the night. Casting “detect magic,” I felt a huge blast of divine energy from a gigantic statue of Eldath just behind the stage. Much weaker, but much closer, was a kind of enchantment magic coming from the drummer, or perhaps his drum. Sometimes being short really is a pain. Once again, Thea used “message” to communicate with the group.

While we talked, we noticed a guard (which happened to be the same one implicated by Raffin) passing something small and round off to another guard. Then he moved and passed another similar object to another guard. Slowly he walked back to the other side of the square.

If you imagine the four suspects as four points, they would represent the four points of a diamond, roughly surrounding the square.

We had a few quick moments of planning and then went into action.

I dispelled the magic coming from the drummer, while Simmy pried loose a plank from the back of the stage and disappeared. I followed her, and she brought out a glowing crystal for light.

Meanwhile, out in the square, Rylan and Ruinfea simply disappeared into the crowd, each of them reappearing behind a suspicious guard.

“Does the smell like chloroform to you?” Rylan asked, and promptly knocked out his target with essence of ether and dropped him in a nearby alley without anybody noticing.

Ruinfea tapped her guard on the shoulder. “Hi!” she exclaimed as he turned around. The ether did its work, but then she found she couldn’t move him. She dropped her cloak over him and started whistling.

Thea gave Toby a “come hither” look. Prompted by Mollie, he came over to the edge of the stage. “Do you want to hear my new song? I wrote it special for the festival!” Thea said. He started to flirt as she played a song of sleep. His eyes grew heavy and he fell right off the stage and right on top of poor Thea.

Well, I suppose turnabout is fair play.

Fuego tried to sneak up on his guard, but something gave him away. Thinking quickly, Fuego cast “shatter” right between the guard’s ears, bursting his eardrums and causing him to collapse in pain. “This man needs help!” cried Fuego, and other city guards came to carry off their fallen “brother-in-arms”.

Meanwhile, under the stage, Simmy and I continued our search. Turning to me, her face serious, she said “I don’t see anything here. There’s nothing here!”

“Where could it be?”

*POP*

I was told Jii never saw it coming.

There was the sound of porcelain breaking, a loud sound, and then the bomb went off.

A change came over Jii, one he couldn’t control. His eyes went red and, whipping out his dagger, he stabbed Raffin the back, killing him instantly.

Under the stage, I watched Simmy’s eyes turn red before she charged me. Uttering a guttural howl and drawing a short knife from somewhere on her person, she stabbed me in the shoulder.

Jii disappeared, but Rylan tried to track him by throwing all his ink on the ground to see Jii’s footprints.

Ruinfea shifted into a wild shape: a massive 500-pound, 30-foot long python. She said later she focused on “crowd control” by squeezing the crowd into a smaller area.

Having wandered off earlier, Hetzel reappeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and attacked Fuego. He counterattacked with fire.

The bard, stirred from his sleep by the bomb, ran off. Thea chased him down and grappled him.

“Where you goin?”

“Away from here!”

“Was this the plan?

“This was always the plan!”

Under the stage, I cast “dispel magic” on Simmy at almost the same time Carrion cast “dispel magic” on the crowd. Between the two of us, working together without even knowing it, the magic was dispersed and the crowd settled down.

Well, that’s understating things. Some came to their senses, while others passed out (like Hetzel and Simmy).

Raffin was not the only fatality.

Jii looked down at his hands as they held the bloody knife that killed Raffin. He dropped into his true form, looked sadly at Rylan, and promptly ran.

Rylan called for clerics, scooped up the dagger, and pursued him. I’m told they ran nearly three miles before nearly collapsing on each other in the cemetery; only Thea and Ruinfea saw them leave.

Carrion stuck his head under the stage: “Are you all right under here!?”

“Well,” I called back, “we’re not all right but we’re not dead.”

Somehow I managed to haul Simmy out from under all by myself. She’s lighter than she looks.

Comforte arrived, surveyed the scene, and immediately deputized Fuego before rushing off to check on the council.

#### *Aftermath in Little Grove*

##### *AT THE CEMETERY*

I’m told Jii took on some kind of spider form and collapsed in Rylan’s arms. Their conversation cycled back and forth.

“It’s my fault”

“No, it’s not”

“I feel . . .”

“I know”

“I can’t lose you, too”

“Let’s focus on the real villains and remember: you are stuck with me. We’re a team – you and me and everyone. Like birds, we’ve imprinted on each other.”

Slowly, they made their way back. What they discussed as they returned is known only to them.

##### *IN THE SQUARE*

As drops of rain began to fall, Hetzel woke up as if recovering from the worst hangover of her life – and that’s saying something – to see Fuego standing over her. In pain, she stared blankly before focusing in on him, remembering what she’d done just a few moments before. Slowly, she spoke:

“You hurt?”

“You cut me, but are you okay?”

“You’re gentler than I’d have been”

“Well, you weren’t in your right mind.”

“If I was, I would’ve won”

“If you were, you wouldn’t’ve attacked me.”

“Just say I won, please?”

Fuego gave in, then extended a hand to help her up.

“Okay, now what?” Hetzel asked.

“Crowd control,” Fuego replied, “Comforte deputized me.”

“We should ask for one of those star things . . . “

“I think you’re concussed. Let’s find you some help.”

“No, lets help the people who really need it.”

Ruinfea hadn’t yet fully changed back. Fuego noticed the snake – who wouldn’t? – and waved hesitantly. Ruinfea nodded back.

“Is that normal?” Hetzel asked.

“Oh, that’s just Ruinfea flexing her druidity . . .”

“Good. I thought it might be the concussion.”

Spotting Carrion, Fuego and Hetzel headed in his direction. “Hey, Nerd!”

Distracted by Ruinfea completing her shift back into her elf self, Carrion didn’t respond until they came closer and he realized they were shouting at him. “Comforte was having us gather the wounded for healing by the clerics. Where’s everyone else?”

“Where’s Bryn?” asked Hetzel. “You might be my nerd, but you’re my second favorite nerd.”

Spotting Bryn near Thea and the stage, Hetzel ran to them. Seeing me pull Simmy out from underneath the platform with a knife in my shoulder, she got a look in her eye I hadn’t seen before.

“Who stabbed you!? Also, that’s badass!”

“I learned from the best,” I replied “and she did.” I nodded toward Simmy.

“Do I need to kill her?”

“NO! She wasn’t in her right mind!!”

“So, what’re we going to do about that knife?”

Hetzel offered to remove it, but I was concerned. She doesn’t know her own strength. It might be a gnome-sized dagger, but I’m fairly certain Hetzel could sever my arm if she isn’t careful.

Fuego offered to take it out, but he knows nothing about medicine.

“I’ll just do it myself,” I exclaimed, “physician, heal thyself.”

While we were arguing, Thea reached over, pulled it out, and cast cure wounds. I looked at the healing flesh.

“Can you leave a scar?”

Thea looked at me quizzically but gave in to my request. So, now I have a bright silver scar on my left shoulder. As scar I chose, as opposed to the other one.

Meanwhile, Carrion leaned down to Simmy and woke her gently.

She bolted up and leapt back, looking at me in horror. “I stabbed you!”

“You weren’t yourself,” I shrugged.

“What happened?” she asked, and Fuego filled us in.

“Well, can I have my knife back?”

“I’ve kinda grown attached to it”

Simmy looked at me in a mix of shock and confusion. “You want it that bad?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, “It’s just a joke.”

Thea handed the knife over to her and she cleaned it off, then handed me the bloody rag.

“Not my blood, not my problem.”

Fair enough. I took the rag and stored it in one of the vials Jii gave me earlier. Too much blood-based magic to just leave it lying around. Hetzel looked at me in wonder.

“So, where’s everyone else?” I asked.

Riunfea, now in her normal shape, ran up to us and asked if we’re doing okay.

“We are now,” I replied.

Ruinfea told us she’d seen Jii and Rylan take off in the direction of the cemetery. Thea had seen them too, but felt she needed to stop the bard.

Good priorities, that Thea.

As the rest of the group discussed what to do with Toby the bard, I looked around and started counting off.

“We’re still short one. Where’s Raffin?”

Fuego shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m not leaving anyone behind today.”

We looked for his body among the dead, finding it laid out respectfully with the others. Resurrection is possible, but it’s a seventh-level spell. With a mass killing like this, the clerics would have to prioritize. Resurrection would take time and resources.

Then I noticed Joshua Overhill among the dead. The council was down two members, and clerics were already preparing his body for the resurrection ritual. The clerics might get to Raffin in a couple days, weeks maybe. And what then? His sister was a traitor, and helping us had gotten him killed. Perhaps it would be more merciful to let him be.

But he deserves more. He’s as much a Hero of Little Grove as the rest of us, if not more. When it came time to choose, he chose what was right. They should build a statue of him.

I made up my mind. Spotting Garrett and Comforte, I asked permission for Raffin’s body to be brought to Alas, and that I be present when it happens. They agreed since she would need to identify him anyway. Then, she deputized us all, giving us the full authority of the Little Grove Watch. She even bit a piece of hardtack into a star for Hetzel!

Hetzel nudged Fuego. “Don’t worry, I’ll get one for you, too.”

##### *In the Jailhouse*

Two members of the city watch carried Raffin’s body to the jail on a litter. His body was rigid, and someone had closed his eyes. A mercy.

We crowded into the cell and Alas was brought in, shackled and bound. Seeing us, she hissed. Then she saw Raffin and moved towards him. We stepped out of her way. The hiss changed to a low growl, and when Raffin didn’t respond to her nudges, the growl became a moan. She practically lay on top of him. Although I didn’t try to get her attention, I started speaking.

“This is what your bomb did. He died a hero; he made the right choice when doing right was hard to do. I have neither the power nor the price to bring him back, but what I can do, I will. Not for you, but for him, because he deserves better than this.”

Taking the incense from my pack, I lit it and began to pray, forming the prayer into Speak with Dead. A gust of magic, and Raffin gasped. His eyes opened, and he breathed in raspy breaths.

“It’s not him, not really. I can’t bring back his spirit, and the spell is sometimes vague. But I can give you five questions. Make them count.”

She looked at me, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Why would you do this?” she asked incredulously.

“I already told you. It’s not for you, it’s for him. The least I can do is let you say goodbye.”

“Can I be in private?”

“I wish you could, but you are a prisoner and we are deputized members of the City Watch. I cannot leave you alone, but if it is agreeable with the rest of my party, I would ask them to leave and I will remain here with you. I swear by my god and my hand that I will not reveal what you say.”

The party was not agreeable. They looked at Alas and her state, and me and my stature, and determined this was not a good idea. They forgot I had the interdimensional shackles, but that’s beside the point. This was not the place to argue.

It was decided that Hetzel would say behind and plug her ears with wax. She could see if anything went wrong, but not hear a word.

The group left, and Hetzel and I moved away, giving Alas as much privacy as we could. I surreptitiously moved the shackles to the top of my pack.

I have debated whether or not to record here what Alas said, and if so doing would break my promise to her. I have decided to write it to record that, whatever her faults, Alas Whane loved her brother.

A: Are you in pain?

R: No

Alas seemed relieved

A: Who killed you?

R: You did

At this, Alas broke down completely. The look on her face makes me wonder if I’d been merciful or cruel. But, I have to remind myself, I didn’t do it for her.

“I . . . I can’t anymore. Stop it, please.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, “Once I end this I won’t be able to do it again.”

“Yes”

“May I ask a question, then?”

“Do what you will.”

To Raffin: “What would you have us do with your body?”

“Burn me. Return me to Bahamut.”

I looked to Alas one more time, her eyes pleading with me.

I ended the spell and motioned for Hetzel to knock on the door for everyone to come back in.

##### *Jii and Rylan Return*

Jii and Rylan made their way back to the square, passing the shrine where I found the group interrogating the members of the Liberation. Now that I think of it, if they – we – had killed them or bound them or something, what would have happened?

They arrived in the town center just in time to hear Olivia Tealeaf giving a speech, trying to calm the people while promising justice.

Rylan ably explained what had happened and managed to convince Tealeaf that those who injured or killed their fellow festival-goers had been acting under compulsory magic and should not be punished. He might have had to drop his family name to do it, but it got done.

Asking some of the nearby Watch, they discovered we’d went to the jail with Raffin’s body and then made their way towards us. Hearing their voices, Thea went out to meet them. Uncomfortable in the same room as Alas and Raffin, they decided to interrogate Toby the bard. Ruinfea, hearing Rylan and Thea talking, also went outside. Rylan said she still had a bit of snake about her movements.

Thea reentered the interrogation chamber, where the rest of us had been trying to decide if we were done with Alas. Hetzel – honorable Hetzel – asked Alas if she wanted to be present at Raffin’s burning.

“You . . . You’d do that? For me? But I’m . . . I’m a criminal. I’m a prisoner.”

“Well, we can always ask Comforte,” Hetzel answered, “and even then we’ve been deputized; we can do it anyway!”

“No, Hetzel, we can’t.” I informed her. “Asking Comforte is the right thing to do.”

We called the guards and Alas was led away.

Seeing Hetzel still a little . . . crispy, Rylan gave her some aloe and Thea heled her up the rest of the way.

Now feeling fully herself again, Hetzel sauntered up to a nearby guard and said “Do you all have some way of contacting each other? We need to talk to Comforte. I have a star, by the way.”

The guard sputtered: “Yes, we can certainly do that” and walked off.

Interrogating Toby

We decided that, while we waited for Comforte, we might as well interrogate the bard. We crammed into yet another interrogation cell.

Rylan: “I’m going to start with some easy questions. Name?”

The bard looked at Thea.

“Tobias Warren”

“Where from?”

“The Capitol”

“Now I’m going to ask some more difficult questions. You will feel the urge to lie. Every time you do, I will take it out on your flesh.”

Toby seemed to think Rylan was bluffing. That is, until Rylan sent out his rather . . . unsettling aura.

Rylan continued: “Why’d you come here?”

“I think you know.”

“Act like a little shit and I’ll knock out your teeth!’

“How’m I supposed to speak with no teeth?”

Jii smiled a big, toothy, crocodile smile. “Would you like a demonstration?”

Rylan went on: “You’re from the Capitol, right? Go on, guess my house. Hint: You’re not going to like it.”

“I’m just carrying out my orders!”

“From who?”

Toby became hesitant to continue speaking.

Rylan tapped him. Seriously, it was a backhanded tap, and Toby collapsed. Rylan stood him up and woke him up with smelling salts.

Toby stared groggily. “I’d rather take my chances with the Company.”

The Company?

Toby: “I’d rather a smack from you than from them!”

Another backhand, another collapsing Toby, and another round of smelling salts.

“Who’s the Company?”

Toby was conflicted. Ruinfea was more observant, and mentioned that Toby appeared genuinely more scared of the Company than of us standing in this room with him. He seemed to be a man choosing the manner of his own demise.

Reaching across the table, Rylan pulled Toby over and yanked off his shirt, exposing a symbol none of us had seen before. It looked like a pansy inset with a series of pentagons.

“What’s this?”

“My mark.”

“What’s its significance?”

“It represents the Company”

“What Company?” Ruinfea asked.

“The Hollow Company”

“In the Capitol?” (This was Rylan)

“They’re everywhere”

“Are they allied with demon gods?”

Toby winced.

“You don’t have to tell us anything, you know. All we have to do is start saying you did.” Gods, Rylan can be devious.

“I’ll tell you everything . . . if you kill me.”

What?! Toby really was more afraid of the Hollow Company than he was of us. He told us of special squads whose only job was to hunt down traitors. Even being questioned might already be enough to sign his death sentence. (Well, one way or another, at any rate.)

Rylan promised a quick-acting, painless poison, and Toby began to talk.

The Hollow Company formed over twenty years ago, and many thought them to be a group of assassins or mages or some other group bent on gaining influence. They weren’t a cult, necessarily. They were bigger than a cult, worshipping the Abyss as a whole. Their goal was to unify the abyssal gods, ending their feuds and wars, and acting as the gods’ hand on this side of the material plane. Little Grove was just one of dozens of towns and cities the Hollow Company hoped to use as gateways.

“What’s your Underdark connection?” asked Rylan.

“None.”

“Drow?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you more scared of us than of them?” Ruinfea questioned.

“I thought I’d chosen the winning side. This mark connects me to them, and I cannot betray them without consequences.”

“Who’s your leader?” asked Rylan

“Arun Stormosin, firstborn son of Tiago and Lilith Stormosin.”

Oh Shit. We never asked how old her children were. And we sent them to my home.

We looked at each other nervously.

Rylan continued: “Where are the targets?”

“I’ll make you a list.”

At this, Jii whipped out maps and inks and a pen. Toby marked them – we noticed about eight cities marked, and one was the Capitol.

“How many operatives?”

“I don’t know. I never met with more than five at a time, but maybe saw fifteen or twenty people total. The groups changed.”

“What are their names?”

“We used aliases.”

“What’s yours?”

“Scab.”

Jii began to speak. “Do you recognize me?” (Lilith)

“No?”

“How about me?” (Tobias)

“Never”

“Do you know me?” (the creature that spoke to Rylan from the gem)

Toby dug his fingernails into his hand so that he drew blood.

“I know the Mother”

“Any other gods?” I asked.

“No”

“Who did you work with most?” asked Ruinfea

“War. We came up with way to build the tunnels underneath Little Grove.”

“Wait, wait, wait. We thought those were old smuggler’s tunnels.”

“We expanded them – into the temple and into the abyss.”

“Were you the ones who put that gelatinous cube down there?” asked Ruinfea.

“No”

Rylan began drawing House Sigils to see if Toby recognized any of them; he picked out House Tlababr.

Toby talked more. The Hollow Company was, in reality, the Liberation. Or, the wicked Liberation. The Liberation that wasn’t Simmy and Carrion and Garret and Raffin. Alas, well, Alas appeared to have been involved. How deeply, we could only guess.

Despite worshipping the Abyss as a whole, they did recognize one god over the others: the Eternal Worm. Poor Adiran. They wanted to desecrate the temple and the burial grounds and raise corrupted soldiers for his army.

If Ruinfea hadn’t had the clerics bless the rains . . .

“How many more of you are there?” asked Jii

“No more in Little Grove, but the plan’s been in operation for years. I’m relatively new. We’d planned to blame it all on their Liberation.”

Hetzel looked at Carrion. “Hey, you might be idiots, but you’re our idiots now.”

Ruinfea continued questioning Toby, but I grew distracted. Jii mimicked voices and Rylan showed house sigils. There was one question I hadn’t asked. I picked up some ink and began drawing on my hand. Walking up to Toby, I showed it to him.

“Do you recognize this?”

“Yes, I have seen it before.”

Shit

I clenched my hand tight; the knuckles turned white.

Rylan began to make the poison, and several of us chose to leave, myself included. Hetzel, Thea, and Rylan stayed behind. Rylan because the poison was his responsibility, and Thea and Hetzel because no one should die alone.

What does this say about me? How could I do what I did for Raffin and Alas and then walk out on Toby? Was he any less deserving of respect?

The group tried to give Toby options, but he would hear none of them. He chose rather to die, and downed the poison in one gulp.

Rylan unshackled him, cradling Toby in his last moments as the poison worked as promised.

Outside, Comforte arrived.

“You were looking for me?

Godsdamn it, this was Hetzel’s idea. But here I am.

“I have a strange request. Raffin’s body - please burn it.”

“That’s not so strange . . .” began Comforte.

“I know,” I replied, “but this is: if the town will allow it, will you permit Alas to be present at his burning?”

Immediately she objected. “Alas Whane is a criminal, a prisoner under arrest for treason. Why on earth . . . “

I cut her off.

“It’s not for her, it’s for Raffin. He died saving this town. He deserves better than what he got. If it makes any difference, I didn’t ask you to set her free or something like that. I just want her to be present. It was his last wish.”

“And how do you know that?”

Looking at the ground, I mumbled “because I asked him.”

Comforte looked at me somewhat strangely, but replied “That’s good enough for me. I’ll see what I can do.”

At this point Thea opened the door to Toby’s cell. We’ve got another for the pyre in here.

“What?!”

Thea and Hetzel and Rylan had a heated discussion about the morality of what was done in the room. Comforte wanted justice for the victims; Rylan wanted to prevent more victims. Exasperated, Rylan exclaimed, “Well, if you want to arrest me, I won’t resist.”

“I’m not arresting you. Olivia Tealeaf would see you though.”

As we left our friend, we looked back. She was exhausted.

“Get some sleep.”

“I got some good sleep last night. I’ll be good for a few more days.”

“Comforte, what was it you told us not even a day ago? Pot, meet kettle.”

We walked over to the council house in the pouring rain. Jii splashed in every puddle he could see, trying to cheer us up. We found the rain soothing; it was blessed, after all.

In the council chambers, Olivia Tealeaf stood alone at the head of the table where yesterday (yesterday??!) there had been three. Flanked by two guards, she was waiting for us.

“So, I hear the lot of you were deputized.”

“I’ve got a star!” exclaimed Hetzel

Olivia revealed a decent-sized sack.

“So, who will take it?”

Ruinfea stepped forward, picking it up easily. She ran her fingers over the opening and pulled out a platinum coin.

“I’m sorry I could only do but so much on short notice, and I wasn’t able to find everything Comforte said you might want. So instead, there are three hundred platinum pieces in that bag, plus the bag itself.”

Shocked, I stammered “But . . . but . . . but isn’t this a great deal more than we asked for?”

“Yes.” replied Olivia, “Unless, of course, you think you deserve more?”

It wasn’t a mean question, but I was embarrassed and mortified and wanted to make myself even smaller than I already was.

I shook my head from side to side vigorously. “No!”

Hetzel nudged Fuego: “Now you can get your star!”

Olivia told us the funerary rights would take place in the evening and, should we want it, we could have use of the best inn in Little Grove. She would like us to stay in Little Grove as its defenders, but also realized the matter at hand was much larger than anyone had originally suspected. Rylan’s home would be here for our use, and Little Grove could be our home base for as long as we needed.

Such kindness on such a tragic day.

Jii bent down to Olivia and took Little One out of hiding. Cooing in Draconic, he gave Little One to Olivia.

“You keep safe?” he asked.

“I think I can manage.” She said.

“Blind” Jii explained.

Olivia took Little One in her arms; she needed both of them.

“That’s all right. I’ve had quite a few in my time.”

“Dragons?”

“No,” she laughed, “children.”

Our business thus concluded, we wandered Little Grove aimlessly until the funeral rites were held.

We decided to spend the night at the Dalia for old time’s sake.

“We need to talk about where we go from here.” Someone said.

“Yes,” I replied “we need to talk.”

Ruinfea and a few others didn’t attend the burnings. Jii went, but stood apart from the crowd. We stood on the edge of the lake and watched the pyres burn bright. Feugo and I stood near Alas, brought under heavy guard. We did not try to make eye contact. We were just a presence, there to bear witness to Raffin and Toby and the others that had died that day who would not, for one reason or another, be resurrected.

The pyres collapsed and the flames died and the embers turned dull. We were there as Alas was led away. The last we heard was her choking sobs:

“It should have been me.”

#### *Leaving Little Grove*

We made our way back to the Dalia, while Simmy returned to her workshop and Garret to the temple, and Comforte remained on duty.

We sat and rested. Fuego collapsed into a chair with a contemplative look on his face. Ruinfea stared at Chewy, apparently looking for any changes. I sat and began writing.

“How are you holding up?” Fuego asked Ruinfea.

“I guess I’m doing ok. Becoming a giant snake really takes it out of you.”

Turning to me he asked, “Starting to chronicle our recent adventure?

“Something like that . . .”

Rylan set himself up in a corner and began reorganizing his pack, prioritizing making new bolts. He looked over at me.

“When you write our story, make sure to use direct quotations. We’re a witty bunch.”

“I’ll try,” I replied “but it’s been a long couple of days.”

Rylan looked up from his fletching and gave me a soft smile. “It will be brilliant. I have absolute faith.”

“With Oghma’s help, it will be.” Oghma. How long has it been since I last prayed?!

Meanwhile, Thea set herself up in a corner with her lute.

“That’s a lovely melody,” remarked Ruinfea, “what’s it about?”

“I don’t quite know yet.” Thea replied.

I set down my pen and allowed the melody to wash over me.

This was a much-needed long rest.

We began discussing our next steps. Most of the party seemed to want to go to Spriggan; I did not.

“We sent Arun Stormosin to Bryn’s family and we have to protect them.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, “after all, personal isn’t the same as important. Wouldn’t it make more sense to go to the capitol or one of the larger cities?”

“Arun is our only real lead, and besides, your town is close by. Is there a reason you don’t want to go home, Bryn?”

Great. So this is how it’s going to happen.

Stumbling and stuttering, I told them the story behind my mark. I was certain they’d be angry with me for not telling them earlier, or concerned that yet another abyssal god was either trying to worm his way into the world (pun intended) or attack a member of the group.

“Well, at least your mark’s on your hand. It could’ve been in a worse place” observed Hetzel.

“Yeah,” continued Thea “at least you didn’t have to drop your pants or anything like that.”

“I would not have dropped my pants. I would have drawn you a picture.”

“Friendship isn’t conditional” remarked Feugo

Rylan shared a look at Jii. “Third family sticks together.”

Third family. This is my third family: my parents, the priests, and now us. I could get used to this.

“If I can punch it, I will.” Hetzel, of course.

Rylan, sensing my discomfort, filled the group in on Tentacled Dick, as apparently we’re calling him.

“We might be idiots,” they said “But we’re your idiots, and we’re good at what we do.”

“We get the job done with the subtlety of a boulder,” finished Fuego.

“If I have to punch a god, I’ll do it!” exclaimed Hetzel. “I’ll be Hetzel, Puncher of Gods.”

“Ooh, when we find Gramma’s Hammer, we can put some runes on it!” said Rylan “I think ‘Godsbane’ would look good in runes.”

“Gramma would have loved that,” replied Hetzel with awe in her voice.

Turning back to me, the group reiterated: “We’re your friends; we’re with you, and we’ll fight a god if we have to.”

Then, to Carrion, “Will you go with us”

“Me? Why would you have me? Haven’t I been nothing but trouble? I’m a sorcerer, but not a great one.”

Jii: “I lived in a swamp.”

Rylan: “I baked bread.”

Me: “I wrote stuff down.”

Hearing Jii mention a swamp, Ruinfea asked him if he had any swamp friends.

“No”

“If you ever want to go back, I’d be your swamp friend.”

“NO!” Jii declared, shaking his head vigorously.

Fuego complimented Ruinfea’s snake form, and even Jii said it was convincing.

Thea spoke up and responded to Carrion: “Everyone makes mistakes; we just keep doing our best.”

Seeing our earnestness, Carrion relented and decided to join our band of misfits.

Hetzel shouldered him.

“Don’t worry; you get used to it.” I said.

Seeing Carrion stumble, Jii shouldered Hetzel, and Hetzel shouldered him back in joy and camaraderie.

Godsdamn, what do I have to do to get shoulder action like that?? But maybe now I’m a badass things will improve. I’ve never felt this way before; I wish I could talk to someone about it.

“Should we send a message on ahead to Spriggan?” I asked. “Maybe warn them?”

“There’s nothing to say it won’t be intercepted,” Rylan pointed out.

“And we don’t want to tip off Arun that we know anything,” continued Fuego. “He might figure out his plans didn’t work, but hopefully that’s it.”

“Oooh. Can we travel by chariot?!” asked Ruinfea.

“What’s a chariot?” inquired Hetzel.

“It’s a cart pulled by horses intended for one person.” responded Thea. “Why don’t we take my caravan instead? You’ll finally get to meet my horses!”

But first, goodbyes needed to be said.

We wanted to ask Simmy to join us, but Carrion said she doesn’t do well traveling.

We found Comforte. Again, I apologized for the way I treated her in the temple. She was understanding but unnerved. We’d been so careful to treat everyone else with respect, but seemingly ignored her own wishes. She knew why we did it and knew we had the right motives. She noticed Fuego taking her to safety when Adrian Oakengrove – or rather, whatever possessed Adrian – attacked us. She couldn’t be angry with us, and didn’t blame us. She just wished we’d thought before we reacted.

If things had gone differently, perhaps she’d have come with us, too. But as it was, we knew asking would be fruitless. She did ask us to come back when all was said and done, so that’s nice. At that point her duties interfered, and we departed.

Leaving the watch house, we noticed folks trying to get the festival restarted – an attempt at normalcy and healing.

We made our way to Simmy’s workshop. She rushed out and handed Jii a bandolier of daggers – daggers made with the teeth from the beholder. She apologized profusely for breaking some, and began explaining the more technical aspects of her craft, but was interrupted by Jii lifting her up in a great bear hug – the kind of hug you’d give a brother after years of separation.

She let out a gasping “eek” and Jii, laughing, set her back down.

I told her I bore no hard feelings about beings stabbed, and would remember her fondly whenever I saw the scar.

Realizing that Carrion would be going with us, she gave him a long look and told him “Don’t do anything stupid.”

We made our way to the stables and saw Thea’s wagon; a vando affair pulled by two horses. Both the horses and the wagon had been in Thea’s family for years: obviously sturdy and well-used, but also well-cared-for.

Thea and Rylan took the front while the rest of us fit snugly in the back. Tight, but not uncomfortable.

We headed toward Spriggan, traveling north-northeast, feeling the temperature change ever so slightly into a temperate climate and watching the woods thicken into wide forests. The forests, we knew, stretched into the mountains until they eventually gave way (far away) into glacier caps.

We stopped for the night near a rundown, derelict porter’s inn bearing the sign “Beggar’s Hole”.

### **Beggar’s Hole**

#### *Stopping for the Night*

As soon as we stopped, Jii bolted out the vando like a stressed dog.

Rylan tried shouting after him. “Jii, why don’t you . . . oh, never mind.”

Ruinfea expressed an interest in sleeping outdoors, and Rylan said he’d join her. We’d have to take turns standing watch, after all. Thea, of course, would sleep in her bed, while the rest of us would cuddle together.

I was just about to try to install myself next to Hetzel when Thea realized she was out of feed and would need to walk into town. Remembering what happened the last time we split the party, we all went with her. Well, almost everyone. Jii either couldn’t hear us or chose not to respond. Carrion must have decided someone needed to stay with the horses and stayed behind, but we didn’t notice that until later on.

We walked into town, passing turnip and beet farms on the way. The inhabitants of Beggar’s Hole began lighting the lamps, and we noticed the landscape seemed rather underpopulated, with abandoned homes and overgrown fields dotting the landscape.

We approached Beggar’s Hole’s tavern, also named Beggar’s Hole. It was apparent the town had grown around the tavern. Inside, the inn was cozy, the walls painted with flowers and vines obviously old yet lovingly maintained. Sitting by the fire was a kid singing and playing the lute. Maybe he was a bard-in-training, or perhaps had some raw talent, but he was pretty good.

About five other patrons sat in the pub, and it was then that we noticed something strange: nobody was an adult. The oldest of them seemed to be 16 or 17.

A girl, looking to be about 12 years old, popped up from behind the bar.

“Ah, newcomers! Welcome to Beggar’s Hole! What can I do for you?”

“Feed for our horses,” Thea told her.

“Oh, so you’re travelers then? Will you be needing lodgings, then?”

“No, we like to snuggle,” replied Hetzel.

“Oh . . .” The girl looked us over. “You could always snuggle here.”

“No, that’s all right,” said Rylan, and as he said these words the patrons turned to look at him. “How much for feed, enough for two horses?”

“Come in the back,” the girl entreated “and I’ll fill some bags for you.”

Rylan and Fuego followed her, leaving the rest of us in the main room.

Before leaving, Rylan whispered to us “Count to 100 . . . if we aren’t back before then, come get us.”

We began talking in low tones by the empty bar.

“I feel like we need to do some kind of check on this place” Ruinfea remarked.

I subtly cast detect good and evil, and got almost no result. I could only infer, from the lack of both good and evil, that the patrons were neutral.

More patrons came in, all of them children. Some ordered water, but many ordered wine or beer or ale.

“Strange,” I muttered.

Ruinfea must have cast detect magic, because she soon informed us that “I’m not detecting any magic other than us.”

Thea leaned against the bar, trying to be nonchalant.

“Neutral” I whispered again.

“So, should we talk to them? Do you think the beer’s okay?” Hetzel asked.

“There’s no magic other than us, and no real good or evil?” Thea asked

“Well,” I replied “I didn’t detect anything evil, but also not a lot of good. Everything came up neutral by lack of evidence otherwise.”

Ruinfea continued to scan the room. “I’m not trusting anything. No magic at all and all these kids. Something isn’t right. I’ve heard stories about places like this; bad tales, usually. Kids alone drinking ale, plus the fact we can’t detect anything is odd.”

“I guess we could talk to them,” suggested Thea. “But what do you say? Sorry kids, but where are the adults?”

“That not quite how I would say it . . .” I offered.

“Did you murder them?” suggested Hetzel.

“I’m not talking to them. Nope.” declared Ruinfea.

“I think we should play it cool for now and wait for the others to return,” decided Thea.

“Look,” I pointed out, “If they were going to do something, wouldn’t they already have done it with Rylan and Fuego gone? I agree: let’s try to wait it out.”

But despite our attempts at nonchalance, we couldn’t help but notice the bar was set for adults, but filled with children. “It’s like the kid’s table at Dwarf Thanksgiving!” Hetzel whispered, as quietly as she could. Which may or may not have been quietly at all, come to think of it.

At this point we were approached by the proprietor – a boy of about 14. He seemed awfully concerned that we hadn’t been seated, and offered us his humble hospitality, such as it was.

Politely, Thea declined. We’d been riding all day and could use the stretch.

Again, he insisted on our sitting, and if we wouldn’t sit, would we at least partake of some light food?

“Really, that is most kind,” replied Thea “but we really couldn’t.”

“Yeah, and besides” interjected Hetzel, “Rylan told us not to move, so I’m not moving.”

At the word “kind”, the boy’s demeanor changed ever-so-slightly, but he continued to be pleasant.

“Oh?” he asked, “and does Rylan speak for the group?”

“In matters of extreme importance, he does”

After that, the boy left us alone, but we couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.

I felt certain it was well past Rylan’s requested count to one hundred, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

Thankfully, the door opened and Rylan and Fuego returned.

What Happened in the Back Room at Beggar’s Hole

The girl who first greeted us led Rylan and Fuego to the storeroom, struggling to lift the heavy bar securing the door in place. Entering the room, she roughly handled two large sacks to the floor and began filling them.

Rylan tried talking to the girl, asking questions about the feed. As far as Rylan knew, the feed looked good. The girl explained that they had begun mixing certain oats in with the feed to provide extra nutrition – it had been a dry year and a poor harvest.

As they continued to make small talk, Rylan turned his suspicions to his surroundings. There was none of the usual good-luck talismans common in farming towns: no horseshoes, no four-leaf clovers, and definitely no iron.

When the girl offered extra feed to finish her current barrel, Rylan politely declined. We’d accept the feed only if we were to pay for it. Clever Rylan. Cunning Rylan. (Maybe that was poor word choice, but I stand by it).

What had seemed to us an eternity was only a matter of moments, and after filling the feed bags, the girl, Rylan, and Fuego returned to the main room.

#### *The Bargain*

The girl rang up our order and Rylan stepped forward to pay. Reading the receipt out loud, he signed his name and payed exactly what was owed. The girl’s face changed at Rylan’s pronounced politeness, and began offering us room for the night, reiterating “our hospitality until you leave in the morning”

Rylan thanked her for her kindness (which she did not like), again politely declined, and then asked if they would appreciate any game we might find.

“If you can find any,” came the reply.

Ruinfea’s unease continued. “I ain’t fucking staying here,” she whispered. “And why in the hell do they keep mentioning morning?”

The transaction seemingly complete, Thea turned and headed toward the door, her mind anxious to return to the horses. I followed her, Ruinfea did likewise, and Hetzel followed suit. Bringing up the rear were Fuego and Rylan, each carrying one of the feed bags.

Out in the street, Rylan murmured under his breath “They’re Fair Folk . . .”

Theodosia: “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck”

Fuego: “Well, we’re not sleeping tonight”

Me: “shit”

“I seriously do not want to be here anymore” said Ruinfea, exasperated.

Thea agreed. “I’d like to put a little more distance between us and this forsaken place, but I’m not sure if the horses could give us more than a couple miles.”

“We have to stay until morning,” countered Rylan “and who knows when that will be.”

“I hope Jii is okay,” murmured Ruinfea. “Creepy kids and who knows what else is around. Wait. Why must we stay??”

“Jii is fae,” responded Rylan. “He’s changeling. He’ll be better off than us.”

Thea spoke up. “We stay because that was the agreement that was made. Remember? Rylan speaks for all of us. At least the caravan is outside town.”

“Exactly,” agreed Rylan, “because we made a deal . . . it could have been worse.”

“Much worse” added Thea.

Ruinfea shook her head. “I don’t like that. Nope. Not at all.”

“Let’s get back to the caravan and get a fire going.” suggested Thea. “The sooner we all get something warm in us the better, I think.”

“Don’t eat anything they give you,” warned Rylan. “Don’t say thank you or acknowledge a debt. Don’t sleep with any one of them. Don’t ask for names. And don’t be rude.”

“So in other words,” summarized Ruinfea, “keeping quiet is good.”

“And we eat and drink only what we’ve brought with us” declared Thea.

“Definitely” agreed Rylan.

Fuego had been lost in thought. “Any kind of contract is bad,” he said quietly.

“If we’re going to stay the night, I might be able to cast a ward,” I offered.

Rylan continued giving instructions. “Everyone keep some salt on them to ingest just in case you accidentally eat something. But don’t put it out . . . or iron . . . or it could be seen as an insult. They offered hospitality; if anything happens to us they’d be responsible. But only if we don’t mess up first.”

“Good to know,” responded Ruinfea.

“It’s a lot of rumor stuff my mother taught me, mostly so I didn’t make her look bad” explained Rylan.

“Our best bet is to try and keep to ourselves through the night,” concluded Thea “we need to try and not insult them.”

This gave me something to consider. “So I shouldn’t cast a ward because if they approach and it injured them then I’m the one responsible for breaking hospitality?”

“Actually, yeah” said Rylan

We arrived back at the caravan, and Rylan sent Jii a message to come back to the horses.

It was then we noticed Carrion was gone. How had we not noticed he wasn’t with us in the tavern? But apparently he’d stayed behind to watch the horses, and something had happened to him. Looking around, his things were still in the caravan, but no sign of him. Could we go looking for him without breaking our agreement? We decided the best thing to do, for us if not for him, would be to wait until morning. The Fae may be messing with time, or something even more sinister. We’d do him no favors by bringing their wrath with us. Poor Carrion.

Thea calmed us by offering a round of tea, while Rylan started cooking some food on a fire. I took some tea, because while coffee is better than tea, tea is better than nothing. While the others discussed what to do, I began praying the Covenant.

Rylan continued planning. “We need to be ready to move as soon as possible. We can’t let too much time go by, even for Jii.”

Thea began tending the horses and generally messing about the caravan. “I’m not sure I like Jii out there alone, but man, I don’t want to go back into that town.”

“What if we have to?” countered Rylan. “Which makes me anxious, but still . . . there’s a chance we might have to.”

“That’s true . . .” agreed Thea.

“Those kinds creep me out,” offered Ruinfea.

“If we go back, will that be breaking our agreement?” I asked.

“Not necessarily,” Rylan theorized. “Did they offer you hospitality? You said they wanted you to stay, right?”

“Yes, they did,” responded Thea.

“Then we technically could go,” explained Rylan. “If we bring back the food I’m making, we could say it’s an acknowledgment of their hospitality. We just CANNOT call it a gift.”

“I have a little experience when it comes to the Folk passed down to me by my family,” offered Thea.

“I was only taught manners so as not to mess up,” said Rylan. “Maybe we can each make something small, something that they’d appreciate because it’s not something they would normally have, you know? I just thinking out loud but I really want to not mess this up.”

“There’s not much I can make, but I can play for them. I’m unsure if that would suffice,” said Thea, concerned.

“They’d love that, from what I know,” Rylan assured her.

Fuego, silent all this time, spoke again. “My knowledge of the Fey is limited to some cursory knowledge I learned for a friend of mine.”

That’s more than me; I know next to nothing.

Rylan continued. “My mother always used to talk about giving them a secret, or some small knowledge they don’t know. Sometimes it was a secret, sometimes it was a cousin . . . just NEVER offer a kiss . . . it’s never actually a kiss.”

“I ain’t kissing some creepy kid,” Ruinfea declared, shaking her head. “Imma listen to Rylan and Jii.”

“It’s never a real kiss . . .” Rylan repeated, almost as a whisper.

At that moment Jii burst into camp at a full sprint.

#### *Jii in the Woods*

After bolting from the cart, Jii put some distance between himself and the cart and decided to go hunting. Normally the forest is full of small sounds: birds and leaves and the breeze and small animals. What Jii heard was stone cold silence – not even the small buzzing of an insect disturbed the woods.

He came across the tracks of a large hooved animal – either a pig escaped from a nearby farm or a large wild hog. Jii stealthily followed the tracks through the trees until he came to a clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a large boar.

Used to hunting small game or foraging, Jii opted to leave the animal alone. Searching for plants, he came across a group of Scotch Bonnets. In his stressed mental state, he couldn’t be sure if he should eat them or not, and he sulked off and pouted for a time.

Returning to the meadow, the boar had moved on, and Jii began to notice a few more details about the meadow. It was a near-perfect circle, and the moon overhead shown brightly down, giving the meadow a moon-dappled appearance. He made his way to the center, flopped down, and stared up at the moon, focusing his thoughts on The Traveler.

Having rested himself, Jii made his way into town. By this time we had already left, and a large bonfire had been erected. The kids set up tables around the fire, and smaller fires burned nearby, each one roasting a small hog. Other hogs were penned in cages nearby; clearly there would be a celebration tonight. Looking closely at the hogs, Jii noticed one of them sporting Tiefling horns eerily similar to Carrion’s.

The barkeep approached Jii, greeting him as “cousin.”

“I’m not here for the festival.” Jii replied testily. “I’m here for my friend.” He stared pointedly at the horned pig.

“Oh, him?” the boy replied, “He’s already under contract. I’ll have to get the mistress for this.”

He returned shortly with a girl, older than the others but still young – maybe sixteen or so – and looking quite ill.

“I was told you have a friend we’ve taken in and you’d like him back. Well, he ate food off the land. You know how it is.”

“Jii will pay that debt.”

“You will? How? In flesh? In feeding? He was intended to feed the younger ones, you see.”

“A hog for a hog.”

“A hog of equal or greater value and intelligence. It’s the intelligence we value most.”

“And Jii’s friend will not be harmed?”

“No, so long as you return before moonfall. At that point it will be too late, and we will have to eat him.”

“A hog for a hog.”

“A hog of greater or equal value and intelligence.”

“He’s under contract to me already”

“Some contracts are more binding than others.”

“A hog for a hog. He helps Jii fight the Abyss. The Abyss is coming.”

The discussion continued in a circular fashion. Jii, being Fey himself, would not be suckered.

They finally came to terms and Jii took off towards camp, rushing in and interrupting my prayers.

It was okay, I was nearly done anyway.

“Going hunting. Found Carrion,” he shouted.

“Stop!” Rylan called back. “We’re going to talk to them without you and maybe screw this up.”

Jii slowed his pace slightly, and shouted back over his shoulder, “Do nothing. Don’t move.”

He found the tracks as he had before, but now the boar had now wandered from the meadow and settled into his burrow for the night.

Jii took some rope and was in the process of setting a snare at the entrance when he heard snoring. Somehow, Jii managed to crawl into the burrow undetected and tied up the boar while it was still asleep. As the last knot tightened, the boar awoke, squealed in panic, and tried to run. It failed.

Flinging the boar over his shoulder, Jii returned to camp. Leaving the woods, he saw the party. Immediately his countenance changed from being moderately pleased with himself to being utterly pissed off.

#### *What Happened at the Caravan*

After Jii warned us to do nothing, we settled back down. Fuego stroked his chin scales in thought while Thea quietly tuned her lute. Rylan finished cooking, and we just began eating when we heard music approaching.

“Shit, here come those creepers,” sighed Ruinfea.

“Quick, put these in your shoes,” whispered Rylan, handing us each a copper coin.

Thea began to play a cheerful melody as a group of children made their way toward us, led by the musician from the bar.

Rylan offered them some stew and cream-and-honey biscuits without salt.

“Is there a reason you’re offering us this?” the musician asked.

“My mother always said to be good to the fair folk as they are good to us,” replied Rylan

“Don’t call us fair folk.”

“I didn’t know that. What would you prefer?”

“You might call us by our nature. For example, I am a satyr. But you could just call us Neighbors.”

“Neighbors it is then. Our hospitality is open and I offer this food without deception.”

“Come on out,” the boy called, “their hospitality is a least not deceptive.”

About twenty kids appeared out of nowhere, crowding us. Rylan began working on a soup to feed them all, while Thea continued playing and Fuego continued to sit stroking his scales. Hetzel sat near Fuego, while Ruinfea and I stood on the outskirts, trying not to be noticed.

One of the children, maybe about six years old, sat down next to Fuego and began stroking his scales as one might pet a cat. He showed care and attention to pet Fuego the right way; “Pretty!” he exclaimed. Fuego sat smiling and allowed the boy to entertain himself.

I was making my way towards Ruinfea when suddenly I tripped. Looking down, I saw vines and woodland twigs wrapped around my ankles. Looking around, I saw two kids giggle and run to get in line for food. Shaking my head and smiling, I got back to my feet.

The satyr began playing a melody contrary to Thea’s. She stopped, listened for a moment, and then joined him. It put me in mind of “The Milking of the Stars” and it was beautiful.

A girl began playing with Ruinfea’s hair, running her fingers through the tips, changing colors as she went.

Rylan began dishing out the soup, and the kids expressed their appreciation. One of them purposefully waited to be last, and then brought out his own bowl and a silver spoon. “Can you tell me what’s in it?” he asked. Rylan gave him the recipe: venison and scallions and rosemary and sumac.

One of them offered Hetzel a dance. Looking at Rylan, he nodded, and Hetzel accepted. Getting up, she danced enthusiastically. I’m sure her willingness went further than her skill, but then again I’ve never seen a dwarvish dance. The highlight of the dance is when her partner, with more strength that would be apparent, lifted Hetzel up over his head.

And that’s when Jii returned.

#### *The Evening Draws to a Close*

The kids noticed Jii and began to look incredibly awkward. Rylan began fixing him a plate of food.

Jii growled like a black swamp dragon, and the kids scattered, running back toward town. All but one, that is. The boy petting Fuego was so enthralled he kept going until he was the only one left. As reality set it, he too took off.

Jii himself kept going towards town and, catching up with the kid, took him by the hand. We watched them run and skip together as they faded into the dark, their hands each changing to match the other’s.

“Do . . . do you think he’s mad?” asked Thea.

“Hopefully not,” responded Rylan. “ To be fair, we did what he said and stayed put.”

“Did . . . did we save him some dinner?”

“I saved him a plate.”

“True, and we didn’t leave. They came to us! And they seemed to enjoy it . . .”

“I think they appreciated it.”

“I wonder how long this will last?” wondered Ruinfea as she flipped her hair.

“It’s really pretty,” commented Rylan.

“I have no idea but it is wondrous,” agreed Thea.

“I mean, we did stay put,” Fuego interjected.

Meanwhile, arriving back at the bonfire, Jii noticed that the horned hog was the only one left; the others had been eaten.

“Is this what you bring in exchange?” the mistress-girl asked.

“Yes”

“He is as intelligent. Is this what you believe?”

“A hog for a hog.”

She took the boar from Jii and opened the cage. The horned hog bolted in the direction of the caravan.

“Can I offer you anything else?” she asked.

“Jii’s family has his dinner.”

“You won’t be coming to the fire?”

“No”

“Well, our hospitality will last til morning . . . This threat from the Abyss, though . . . how seriously should we take it, if at all?”

“Jii is the last of his kind, traveling with them. That should tell you everything.”

“Hmm . . . perhaps we should take a better, brighter path.”

As she spoke, the children began jumping into the bonfire, disappearing with a loud POP to the cheers of the rest.

Sitting down, the girl began to eat, and Jii took this as his cue to leave.

Back at the caravan, we heard the squealing before we saw a Tiefling-horned pig charge out of the darkness a tried to jump into the caravan. Hetzel tried to wrangle him, but they only ended up headbutting each other.

Jii finally returned, too.

“Hi! Jii! How you doing? In our defense, they came to us?” we said.

“Do you want dinner?” Rylan asked.

Jii crawled under the caravan to sulk.

And then a familiar voice came from the woods.

“What is Jii doing under the caravan?” Carrion asked.

WHAT?!?

“But if you’re over there, who’s over here?” asked Thea incredulously.

“And where on earth have you been?” asked Rylan.

“I was lost in a godsforsaken hedge maze,” he replied.

“We thought you were a pig!” exclaimed Hetzel.

“Well, I stayed with the caravan when some kids came along and started messing with your things, Thea. I chased them off into the woods, but then got lost myself.”

“We’ve got an official ANIMAL COMPANION!” Hetzel cried with a little more excitement than was necessary. “I shall name him Gee Junior. It’s like Jii but different.”

“Well, that may be the least strange part of today,” I observed.

Feugo started pouring himself a drink.

“Pour one for me, too,” Thea said.

“Oh my soul,” muttered Ruinfea.

Fuego handed Thea her drink and she climbed into the caravan.

“I think we need a little better name the Gee or Geeg. That could get confusing,” observed Ruinfea.

“I think we need to come up with a name for ourselves as well. I can tell you folks in Spriggan will ask.”

“What even for now,” said Rylan at an apparent loss for words.

“For ourselves, what about The Third Family?” I suggestd.

“I like that!” agreed Ruinfea.

“As do I,” said Thea.

“Everyone is Rylan and Jii’s third family.” Jii offered. “Jii would call everyone that anyways.”

“Family is complicated for me, all things considered,” explained Rylan. “but I can honestly say you’re all the family I would choose time and time again. I think it’s unanimous, then?”

“I mean, as long as y’all know it means you’re gonna have to come to the Sophson family reunions now,” Hetzel interjected.

“Hetzel, you’re a genius!” cried Rylan

“Well hold on, I haven’t even warned you not to eat Aunt Lucretzia’s potato salad . . .”

“They can’t be worse than the potatoes at the pub.” Ruinfea looked slightly ill.

“I appreciate the warning,” Rylan continued, “And fair, nothing will be worse than the travesty of a meal, but in all seriousness Hetzel you’re a genius and I promise I’ll explain why one day.”

A thought crossed my mind. “I’m gonna die of alcohol poisoning, aren’t I?”

“That, or develop one massive alcohol tolerance,” Feugo tried comforting me.

“well, you saw what that mead did to me. Maybe I do just need to work up to it. A tankard of sobriety would at least give me a couple rounds before things went pear-shaped.”

“You just need more exposure,” Fuego reiterated.

We passed the night in conversation and pleasant sleep. Though strange, the evening had ended well. We didn’t make enemies, and we actually might have made friends. Who knows when that might come in handy.

WAR PIG

In the morning, we passed through Beggar’s Hole, now utterly abandoned. The bonfire was slowly dying, the last embers fading into black. Scattered party remains littered the ground: tables and chairs overturned; scraps of meat and bone, now covered in ants; and broken cages. The homes and shops stood empty.

Hetzel stared deeply into War Pig’s eyes. “We need to name him.”

“You mean other than War Pig?” asked Rylan.

“We could call him WP for short,” suggested Ruinfea

“No matter what, he’s going to need armor,” observed Rylan.

“Do you think I can ride him?” wondered Hetzel.

War Pig was kinda shocked at first, being locked in the caravan with us, but soon calmed down with lots of pats from Hetzel, Ruinfea, and me. I took a good look at his horns, which were decidedly tiefling-like. Interesting. Carrion’s are more boar-like. Carrion, meanwhile, was sleeping off whatever had messed him up last night.

War Pig soon started rooting about the vando. In an attempt to keep Thea’s home intact, Rylan attempted to bribe him with treats. War Pig soon got the gist; he’s very food-motivated. When he tried to actually burrow through the floor, Hetzel spent several hours trying to train him.

It was about then Ruinfea got the brilliant idea to talk to him. Here’s what I’m told their conversation was like:

You okay?

Hungry

Do you need anything?

Smells nice in here.

[note: it smelled like wild boar]

We need to try to keep it nice.

Where holes?

Not here; when we stop. Also, stomp two times for potty. What’s your name?

guttural snort

Can we call you War Pig?

Meaning?

You fight well

Need me to gore?

Not yet

Cool. Food?

Yeah. What’s your favorite?

Grubs and shrooms

[Ruinfea conveyed this to Rylan, who pulled some mushrooms out of his pack. War Pig ran over to him and devoured the fungus, leaving Rylan a slobbery hand. Pretty sure he’s going to associate Rylan with food now.]

Hetzel and Bryn, the dwarf and the gnome, want to know if they can ride you.

Why?

If we have to fight they might need help.

Don’t know.

Can they try?

Sure

Where’d you come from?

Forest

Why were you locked up?

Wanted to eat me

We aren’t going to do that

Didn’t want to be eaten. Saved energy to escape.

Have you always had those horns?

No

Did they grow?

Yes

How?

Not sure. Last night.

Oh

[War Pig tried to get more treats from Rylan]

No, not now. We’ll look for more in the forest.

box is made of forest

Ruinfea spent the rest of her time trying to convince him to behave and debating morality. When the spell ended, she looked at us and said “Well, he’s sarcastic as all get out.”

### **Spriggan**

#### *Arrival in Spriggan*

Meanwhile, Thea and Jii rode up front. Jii appeared as an angry dragon, sitting in silence and putting off angry vibes. Thea began rambling just to fill the silence, and as the miles wore on Jii became more comfortable and slowly resumed his usual lizard form.

As the sun sank low in the sky, Spriggan appeared on the horizon, its tall and old and ancient trees rising high into the air. The trees are the architecture, providing homes and businesses connected by lifts and elevators and ramps. At the city center, the Spriggan Tree itself, holding the largest library in Hilan.

*From Jax’s Lore of Hilan:*

*Spriggan is an ancient city that has been untouched by time for many generations. The ancient gnomes who lived here, a race of people who were well connected with the forest, were said to be descended from Baervan Wildwanderer himself, though in the modern era most gnomes attribute this mostly to myth than anything else. That has not stopped the continued tradition of the reverence of the Wildwanderer family name. The final member of that family died some 300 years ago, and was buried in the family crypt, beneath the large Spriggan Tree in the middle of the town. A statue of Baervan Wildwanderer guards the now sealed entrance to the crypt.*

*The Spriggan Tree dominates the center of the town. Standing at approximately 575 feet tall (and reportedly still growing)and reported to be over 12000 years old, it is the tree that all the other trees around it are rooted from. The forest gnomes never believed in cutting the trees down, but rather built their homes upon, around, and under the already existing trees. This makes Spriggan an appealing place to live for many different subraces of gnomes, not just the gnomes of the forest. In a wondrous blend of nature and machinery, Spriggan is full of lifts and systems to aid in the above and below ground system that makes up Spriggan’s byways and walkways.*

*When it came to the Unification Conflict some 800 years ago, the gnomes of Spriggan had quickly fallen on the side of the High Elves. Their main interest had been to preserve the already long history of the town, and to keep the forests safe from what they saw as possibly troubling times ahead. Before the Dwarves sided with the High Elves, they were the main source of weapons for the High Elf forces. The protection of the High Elves and their far away position in the north part of Hilan meant that none of the wars and struggles of the Unification Conflict ever really touched Spriggan.*

*For a long time, those of the Blood of Wildwanderer ruled over Spriggan in a manner similar to kings and queens, but when the final heir died off, leadership was put to a vote. Since then, the new king or queen of Spriggan is voted upon from a series of candidates that the previous king and queen named (in a legal document that is updated regularly) before their death. This ruler will rule in whatever manner they see fit, but knows that on some level they should honor the status quo and traditions of the town. They will rule until death.*

*Spiggan is also home to the largest collection of written knowledge in Hilan. While the dead take up the roots of the Spriggan Tree, this library takes up the majority of the upper portion of the tree. Portions of the Spriggan Tree have been hollowed out, with shelves and storage units built directly into the wood, in a manner that has been mastered by the residents and passed down for many generations. The tree still lives and grows, and is tended by a number of scholars, many of whom are dedicated to the Order of Oghma.*

*The Order of Oghma is dedicated to the ongoing evolution of knowledge and the preservation of what has already been discovered. They are the primary keepers of the Library, tending to its upkeep as well as constantly reading and studying to update their always ongoing research. Members of the Order often leave Spriggan in a search for tomes to acquire and add to the collection, but other than those journeys, they rarely leave their studies.*

*The current King of Spriggan is Glendowl Angelspeck, and was elected to that position only three years ago.*

*The current High Priest of the Order of Oghma is Donnel Castguard, and is well into his 201st year.*

“Are we all going to fit here?” asked Fuego. “I mean, we’re not all gnomes or dwarves.”

“You’ll be fine. We’re used to all kinds of visitors. You might not be able to fit in some of the older buildings, but for where we need to go you should be all right.”

Jii must have been feeling better; he took out his jar of worms to check on them. There were fewer now, and the ones that remained were fatter. If it ever gets down to one worm, he’ll need a bigger jar. This fact seemed to bring him some small amount of joy.

Carrion woke up at this point and was immediately sorrowful for what had transpired.

“It’s okay!” said Hetzel, “we got War Pig out of it!”

“A Fae-touched war pig,” commented Carrion

Jii grunted.

“Come on, Jii, how can you not like this face?” Hetzel scrunched her face next to War Pig’s and looked at Jii pleadingly.

Jii stuck his incredibly long tongue out at Hetzel, and she stuck hers out right back.

Godsdamnit, what do I have to do to flirt like that.

Carrion went back to sleep as we entered the outskirts of Spriggan. A system of fairy lights suspended on strings and ropes light our way with glowing colors of yellow and red and blue. We’d no time to stop, and Thea drove the caravan right up to the Spriggan Tree itself, stopping it by the great statue of Baervan Wildwanderer and his mighty raccoon companion, Chiktika Fastpaws; each of them a hero, if not a lesser god, in their own right. At the base of the tree, two guards stood by the bronze door leading down to the crypts, while nearby stood the pathway to the temple of Oghma. It’s a small temple, as temples go, with most ceremonies performed in the nearby woods.

Finally free, War Pig immediately tried burrowing into the roots of the nearby trees; which meant he was literally trying to commit breaking and entering on people’s homes. Rylan stopped him with another mushroom, and Hetzel took a firm grip on him.

Carrion was awestruck and stood for several moments simply staring up at the Spriggan Tree. “It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Jii climbed into the Spriggan Tree itself and began examining the fairy lights. Lit by will o’the wisps, Jii left them alone.

#### *At the Temple*

Entering into the temple courtyard, we soon left the visitors to Spriggan behind and I started recognizing more of the clerics. They also recognized me and began muttering under their breath. What’s she doing back already? Who’s that with here? I’m used to the looks by now and marched on, making my way to the priest currently on duty overseeing things. Tos Pums, almost sixty years younger than me yet similar in rank, and definitely entrusted with more responsibility than they ever gave me. He sputtered his greetings.

“B . . . B . . . Brynwick. W . . . w . . . we didn’t expect you back so soon. And you’ve brought pilgrims?”

“They are my companions. I would not call them pilgrims.”

Jii and Rylan and Carrion stepped off to the side, detaching themselves from the group.

Pums continues. “What do you need?”

“We need to see the high priest. Now”

Seeing the seriousness in my eyes, he said “Of course that can be arranged. And will it be just you or . . .” His eyes drifted to the rest of us.

“Let me ask them.”

“You can come with us,” I said to Rylan and Jii and Carrion and, by now, Fuego. “It’s not like we’ve never had strange visitors before. We don’t look down on anyone.”

“It’s not a question of acceptance. It’s about us being, well, other. Are you sure it will be okay?”

“Yes”

“Remember what happened the last time we split the party?” Hetzel chided.

We decided to stick together and entered the temple, which isn’t so much a temple as a museum and academic hall. Shelves and display cases neatly ordered, with wandering paladins and guards.

Ushered in to the presence of Donnel Castguard, the current high priest, his office is a shrine to knowledge, with books and display cases there for the viewing. He was illuminated from behind by a large, stained glass window light by other-than-natural means. He’s beginning to show his age, and though he rose to welcome us, he walked haltingly, forcing us to come to him. Perhaps, though, this is also his pride.

Dismissing Tos, he turned to me. “Brynwick, I did not expect to see you so soon. It seems as if you just left us. Have you had enough of the world already, or somehow fulfilled you duty? And you have brought these people back with you. What could be so important that you had to see me immediately?”

I stared into his eyes. “Another Shieldmeet is coming, but worse.”

“And what contract might you be referring to, Brynwick?”

“Conract?”

“Why yes, Shieldmeet is a time for contracts and binding . . .” he trailed off and looked over at the group, which had stayed behind while I talked with Donnel. “Unless you’re referring to something more sinister, in which case stop speaking in riddles and come out with it.”

“They know what they need to know.” I replied. “And I’m referring to the events of my naming day. Another one is coming. Actually, more than one.”

“What proof do you have of this?”

Proof. There’s no way I’m handing over my document.

“What proof would you accept? Have you heard nothing from Little Grove the last two days?”

“Well, we did receive your letter, and the Stormosins arrived and are under the kind’s protection.”

“So you do know what happened in Little Grove? The same thing is going to happen here.”

“And have you told the king?”

“The king? I told you because you know how to deal with things like this.”

“And the king is responsible for the city of Spriggan. He may be young, but he is the king.”

“He’s only ruled three years”

“And he is still the king. You should have talked to him. Do you require my seal for audience?”

He walked behind his desk and removed a small brass seal. Stretching out his hand, he held it out to me while also cutting a glance at my hand.

“I’ll send an owl, too,” he said, dropping it into my hand. “And if you need anything, remember that the door is always open to members of the order.”

This was polite yet insincere conversation. He’s never taken me seriously, either as a gnome or a cleric.

#### *Background Conversation*

“Did Jii do something wrong again?”

“No . . . it’s just the usual problem.”

“Nothing wrong at all, just something we’re used to seeing.”

“This dude seems suspicious”

“I’m . . . not happy”

“I can’t get over ‘these people’”

“That’s a large part of it.”

“These questions are creeping me out.”

“Being talked around is also . . . less than polite”

“Something seems off”

growl

“This kind of politics to get to our friends . . . is bullshit”

Rylan started shaking in anger; Jii plopped his chin onto his shoulder, giving Rylan a little snoot before standing back up.

#### *The Palace*

As we left, War Pig, stopped up from trying to be good, left a massive shit on the carpet.

Out in the corridor, they bombarded me with questions.

What was that? Is he always like that? Can we trust him? He’s the person you thought we could trust.

“Now you know why I didn’t want to come back. He’s a priest and politician. The kings of Spriggan come and go; the high priest tends to stay the same. And for all his faults, he saved me. Whether it was to save me or his precious temple I don’t know. But I don’t think he’d do anything to put those books in danger.”

“People will do anything to hold on to power,” observed Fuego.

“I do thank you for not casting fireball in there. While I haven’t read every book in our library, I’ve made my way through most of them. I’d like to finish before I die. And now you know the truth: for all the wonders of Spriggan, the people can be wondrously awful.”

As we approached the palace gate, we heard the caw of a raven. A raven, in a city that uses owls. It was Rylan’s raven, and it flew down on her arm for scritches and nibbles. It carried a message from Tiago, telling us he was safe and settled, but that Arun had taken sick.

“Are you going to use the seal, Bryn?” asked Rylan.

“Not unless I have to demand an audience. For good or bad, my name means something here. I’ve never seen how far it would get me; I guess we’re about to find out.”

Approaching the guards, I said “Brynwick Nibnibbler requests audience with his grace, Glendowl Angelspeck, king.”

A guard left and soon returned. “The king is at dinner. Would you see him thus?”

“If he would have us.”

Ushered to his private dining room, the doorman looked at me. “And how should I announce you?”

“The Third Family, lately come from Little Grove.”

This was the first time we used our name. A thrill rushed through us.

So announced, we were brought into the room. Angelspeck sat at the head of the table, with a woman unknown to me on his right. Tiago sat to his left, and next to Tiago a young elf, his daughter, maybe thirteen years old. Arun was not to be seen.

“And your companion?” asked an attendant to Hetzel while motioning to War Pig.

“Do you have a garden that needs rooting around in?” asked Hetzel

“As a matter of fact . . .” Hetzel and War Pig left for the garden. I’m told their evening was splendid.

“Would you join us for dinner?” inquired the king.

“Your grace is too kind,” replied Rylan. Looks like I’m no longer speaking for the group. Praise be to Oghma.

We sat down, some more comfortable than others. The king is used to hosting delegates, but Jii was larger than anything the builders had planned for. He sat on the floor.

More attendants brought in the soup course as the king made introductions. “This is Nuem Tembrook, my current attendant for the night. And this is Tiago Stormosin and his daughter, Feno.”

Tigao apologized for Arun’s absence. Rylan shot him a look, which Tiago recognized, but refused to react in any way.

“Perhaps some soup would do him good,” Rylan proffered.

“His condition might not be suitable for soup. The illness was worsened and he has not awoken in many hours.”

As Ryland and Tiago discussed Arun’s ill health, they also recounted the events of Little Grove, up to their leaving.

“Should I worry?” Asked Agnelspeck. “I’ve grown rather fond of the Stormosins . . .”

“I think we should learn more to be able to help everyone, like we did in Little Grove,” replied Rylan.

“But if this is more serious than one sick individual . . .”

“Little Grove opened our eyes. Since Bryn is from here and Tiago was here, this was our first of many stops before the capital.”

Tiago became concerned but refused to show it. “Ahh . .. the Capitol . . . yes.”

Turning to Feno, Rylan said “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance”

“Father has spoken of you. You’re Rylan Baenre?”

At Rylan’s surname, the king paused eating his soup for just a moment before resuming.

“Most know me as Lovelock. The other’s the name you’d use if your father took you to where I’m from”

“How is Little Grove now?”

“Better than it was.” I said.

Rylan gave me a look. Do we tell him?

I shrugged. He is the king.

King he might be, but he’s also dense.

Rylan brought out the map, and explained what it showed and how we got it. He explained the plot of the Hollow Company to open hellgates all across Hilan.

“Hellgates? What are those?” he asked. Like I said: dense.

Jii mimicked the beholder. They stared at Jii before looking back at the map.

I showed off my mark. Unwrapping it, the air made it burn and I quickly covered it again. “It’s never done that before.” I thought.

It was then that Rylan had to bring up Arun. Bur first, he gained assurances from Angelspeck that we could get information from Arun before deciding on more violent action. Kings can get stabby when it comes to security. And right now, we need information.

“There’s a reason I’m worried about your son. Toby said they were connected by marks and could be used to harm innocent people. We lost good people in Little Grove; I don’t want that to happen here.”

Agelspeck, rightly, was concerned for Spriggan.

“What’s making Arun sick is what’s threatening Spriggan,” Rylan pointed out. “Right now, we need you to be strong.”

That meant something to me. The idea that he can separate the possessed and the possessor. At the same time, another thought crossed my mind. I’d have no doubt the king would remain strong for his “attendant”.

“Yes, yes, just tell me what.”

“We will when we know more. For now, beware the high priest.”

Jii took out his jar of worms.

“Jii, put those away. Your grace, they infiltrated Little Grove with the help of the high priest. This is what’s left.”

Tiago and Feno turned to leave, and we followed them through corridors and up lifts to a private wing. We were ushered into a private seating area, with private quarters branching off.

A door was opened, and we were ushered into Arun’s room.

Rylan began our examination of Aurun, and determined that he wasn’t poisoned.

Hetzel wondered if the same wormy things that possessed Adrian also possessed Aurun. Jii brought out his jar of worms to see if they’d react. Feno cringed, and Jii quickly put his jar away, muttering “worms don’t deserve that”, but there was no reaction from Aurun, and Rylan found no visible worm holes on his body where they might’ve entered. Rylan did, however, discover Aurun had a mild fever and exhibited mild, involuntary pain reactions. His eyes appeared to be moving rapidly as if in sleep.

“Something is horribly wrong,” Rylan informed us. “It looks like he’s sleeping, and elves don’t sleep.”

“They don’t?” asked Hetzel. “Then what do they do?”

“It’s kind of like a deep meditation . . .”

“But not sleep?”

“No,” explained Carrion, “it’s more like a trance.”

“It’s because we’re Fae,” explained Rylan

“Jii sleeps . . .” whispered Jii.

Fuego tried an arcana check. The fever was definitely unnatural, with a strong aura of magic surrounding Aurun.

Ruinfea tired detect magic. “This is bad. There’s a ninth-level enchantment on him.”

Rylan looked at Tiago. “Tiago, that’s up in your stratosphere and beyond our pay grade.”

Meanwhile, Jii tried licking Aurun.

“That’s solid,” observed Hetzel.

Aurun didn’t react, and Jii tasted nothing, except for the lavender lotion Aurun used to stay well-hydrated. We was an upper-class elf, after all.

Tiago came over. We saw him do something but nothing happened. Tiago looked even more concerned.

Running out of options, I suggested reading his mind. Channeling the divinity of Oghma, I tried to read his surface thoughts, but his surface thoughts weren’t exactly surface. They were distant, deep, almost as if there were a large barrier between his thoughts and his mind. I heard a voice echoing and reverberating as if from far away, calling out for help. I sensed a dark, moon-dappled wood, cold and set apart from other living creatures. The voice was lost, alone in the wood.

I shuddered as I recounted what I sensed.

“So, now we flip him and check for marks, right?” asked Hetzel.

Fuego came forward to help her, and together they lifted him. His shirt shifted, revealed a very old mark – the brand of the Hollow Company.

“That’s unfortunate” sighed Rylan.

“How long ago did this happen?” asked Hetzel.

“Two, maybe three hours ago.”

“I wanted to put this off as long as possible, Tiago,” Rylan told him, “but Toby – our informant back in Little Grove – he recognized Aurun’s voice. We think it was part of his mission to take down Spriggan.”

“My son?!” exclaimed Tiago incredulously.

“It’s all part of their agenda . . .” began Rylan before Tiago cut him off.

“But my son. First my wife, now my son. What have I done to deserve this? What poor choice I’ve made in life . . .”

“It’s not your fault. Who knows how long this has been going on. This is an old mark, and children will do almost anything to please their mothers.”

This did not comfort Tiago in the slightest.

“My concern is what he might have done once he got here. In Little Grove they used sound magic to cause madness. We need to check to see if he’s got an item of some kind on him . . .” Rylan trailed off.

“Item? What item? He hasn’t gone anywhere.”

Rylan looked thoughtful. “What if he is the item?”

“Ink? Bones?” suggested Jii.

“He was sick for days, almost as soon as we left Little Grove. Then this happened . . .” Tiago appeared to be in shock.

“Toby said they could communicate through their marks. What if they knew Toby sang to us?”

“He also said they could torture their members if they turned. Maybe Aurun had second thoughts or was being manipulated and they put him in the coma to keep their plans going forward,” Rylan suggested, trying to find some solace to offer Tiago.

“Again, remember his mother’s influence,” said Fuego.

“They were always very close to each other,” admitted Tiago. “At least, he was closer to her than he was to me.”

I saw something change in Rylan’s eyes. “What if the target here isn’t the people?” She looked at me. “You have the largest library in Hilan. I’m guessing there’s more gathered information here about what really happened in the past that anywhere else – and not just what the Empire wants us to know, but also other viewpoints?”

“Well, yes . . .” I said.

“So if they destroy that information, the only truth left is what the Empire says it truth. In other words, propaganda.”

“The decimation of information . . .” Carrion was appalled.

“If they’re listening to us now . . .” began Jii.

“We need a list of everyone coming into the city,” declared Rylan, a little louder than usual.

“My son is in danger and you’ve done nothing to help him. I think it’s time we all give him some space to rest.” Tiago was nearly shouting at us.

“ungrateful elves . . .” Rylan

“pointy assholes . . .” Jii

“It’s getting crowded . . .” Ruinfea

“We should leave . . .” Fuego

Outside the room, Rylan looked at Feno. “My dear, it was a pleasure to meet you. And now I must ask you to do something. Take this, and guard your brother.” He handed her a dagger.

Feno took it, looking from Rylan to Tiago in a mix of fear and awe.

When Tiago said nothing, she set her face determinedly and reentered the room.

“It’s always the small ones . . .” said Tiago and Rylan, almost in unions.

“So where do we go from here?” asked Thea.

“I’d suggest we stay away from manmade stuff,” answered Rylan. “Why not the woods?”

“You gonna be okay with the woods?” Hetzel asked Carrion, pointedly.

“I was lost in a hedge maze, not assaulted by a tree!” Carrion exclaimed.

“All right, all right, I was just checking . . .”

“We could go to my favorite shrine,” I suggested. “It’s out of the way and rarely visited. That’s why I like it.”

“We can’t forget to check for corruption, even there.” Rylan observed.

We left the palace, avoiding people as much as possible. Outside, Spriggan appeared well and normal as we made out way into the forest to my shrine. It’s one of the smaller ones, separate from the others in a quiet area of overhanging trees and a small brook. A few candles burned brightly – large candles meant to be used several times. I can’t remember the last time I’d had to replace them; it must have been years at this point. Small offerings of vellum and a few coins were scattered about; usually I’m the one to gather the offerings here, and in my absence no one had seen to it. Everything looked to be in order.

Thea looked about for any of the telltale symbols she’d found in Little Grove. Nothing. Again, everything looked and felt normal.

“Maybe we got here before their plans could develop further?” Fuego thought out loud.

“Like an archery target before it’s set up . . .” mused Rylan.

“So, what do we do?” asked Carrion.

“I still think Aurun’s an item,” declared Rylan.

“Or maybe a piece of him, like an eye or . . .” offered Carrion.

“What about skin?” asked Rylan.

“Well, we are dealing with abyssal gods,” agreed Carrion. “Doing something so strange and unnatural would certain be within their character.”

“After all, one of them sent a worm to eat me!” emphasized Fuego.

“They don’t care about ethics or morality,” continued Carrion. “If they would desecrate a temple, they wouldn’t think twice about using a person.”

“Jii’s worms are abyssal. They track?” asked Jii.

“I don’t know,” replied Carrion. “There is some thought that spells carry a unique signature, so that no matter who wrote the spell, it can be traced back to the one that cast it – like fingerprints, each spell would carry individual marks.”

“Jii doesn’t have fingerprints . . .”

“Well, that muffs my point then”

“Can we get into his dream?” asked Rylan. “Either track him down and question him or even fight the thing that’s oppressing him?”

“Yeah. That douche of a high priest would do anything to protect his books.” Hetzel reminded us.

“Jii can forge if he has to . . .”

“This all comes down to trust,” observed Rylan. “Who Aurun trusted, and who we can trust. I’ve heard there’s some druids that can walk in dreams . . .” She looked at Ruinfea expectantly.

Ruinfea shook her head. “That’s not something I can do.”

“You mean auromancy?” asked Carrion. “There’s a few book written on the subject, but there incredibly rare. If I could study one, perhaps . . .”

“Jii could get it.”

“Or, I could just check it out.” I responded.

“Well, that’s certainly an option,” replied Rylan.

“I think we should steal it if possible; just walking out with such a book would likely draw attention.”

“I can’t ready anyway,” sighed Hetzel, somewhat sadly.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jii can find you a picture book,” Ruinfea said, not unkindly.

“Thanks!”

“But do we really want to split the party?” Ruinfea was concerned.

“Yeah, after all, last time we did that you ended up setting me on fire.” Hetzel stared at Fuego somewhat accusingly.

“And before that, half of us ended up in jail and Rylan ended up publically whipped,” Thea observed.

“Look, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it; I’m no good at strategy,” complained Carrion.

“Well, you would make good bait . . .” said Rylan, thoughtfully.

So it was decided: Carrion, Jii, and I would go to the library. Carrion and I would act as a distraction, while Jii looked for the auromancy book. I offered to draw him a map, but “not Jii’s first time in library” was the cryptic response. I wonder if he’s seen me before.

“But you two aren’t that strong,” Hetzel pointed out. “If you ran into trouble, I’d punch it!”

“Hetzel, you can’t punch a concept,” Thea pointed out.

“I could always try!” she replied. “And anyway, if I’m gonna punch a god an idea can’t be any harder.”

Ruinfea and Rylan offered to go spy on Castguard, for whatever that might be worth. Ruinfea might have her suspicions, but Castguard has always been a colossal, arrogant person.

Fuego, Thea, and Hetzel, meanwhile, would hang out with War Pig, maybe examining some of the shrines and asking after armorers who could make some armor for our newest companion. Hetzel suggested she might teach him to look for murder tunnels, but how she’d do that I have no idea.

“Don’t forget his horns,” Rylan told them. “They could use some sharp protection, too.”

“And if anyone runs into trouble, remember: a person only needs one kidney to survive.” This came from Carrion, of all people. We looked at him, stunned.

“What?” he said. “It’s true . . .”

“How are we going to meet back up again?” I asked.

“Why not right here?” offered Carrion.

“Yes, we just sit and wait for the others. If too much time passes, we go from there.” Rylan declared. Turning to Ruinfea, he said “I think it’s time for you to get small.”

Jii handed Rylan his jar of worms. “I’ll protect them with my life,” Rylan said, wrapping the jar in layers of cloth and storing it in the center of his bag.

#### *Spying on Castguard*

Ruinfea activated her pass without trace ability while simultaneously transforming into a chameleon. Together, she and Rylan entered the temple without a problem and approached Castguard’s office. Peering through the large keyhole, they saw a figure sitting at his desk, writing. Looking around, Rylan noticed the vents to the ventilation system. Opening the gold-plated vent, they slid into the office unseen. Whether due to their sneak abilities or Castguard’s advanced age I cannot say, but they continued undetected as Rylan began to snoop around the artifacts and books that comprised Castguard’s private collection. Rylan took the low shelves while Ruinfea, still in her chameleon form, scampered along the uppers.

The books were well maintained: worth a lot of money and largely unread. The artifacts were locked in cases clearly locked and giving off a magic aura even Rylan could feel. This collection was obviously meant to impress. As he went along the shelves, Rylan noticed a book ever-so-slightly different from the others. Covered in dust, he found a hollow book and pocketed it, securing it next to Jii’s jar of worms.

Making his way behind Castguard, Rylan saw him writing a letter . . . in gnomish. Unable to read the language, Rylan was nonetheless able to copy what Castguard was writing. What skill that must have taken to not only sneak behind him and get close enough to read the letter, but then to get paper and ink and copy a language he didn’t know.

Meanwhile, Ruinfea also found something among the dust of the upper shelves: a gnomish halberd. Unable to carry it in her current form, Ruinfea showed quick thinking. She was able to use her bag of holding and, using her chameleon thumbs, inched the bag over the weapon until at last the bag closed over the halberd and she was able to carry it with ease.

No sooner had she done this than Castguard finished his letter, sealed it, and left the room.

They made their way back to my shrine and were the first ones back. As the waiting, Ruinfea began to fall asleep on Rylan’s shoulder while Rylan began rocking back and forth on his feet.

Of Smiths and Cemeteries

Hetzel, Fuego, and Thea – along with War Pig – made their way back into Spriggan. Finding armorers aplenty, they began searching for one specializing in steed armor. Spotting an armored mount on a sign, they made their way into a particular forge. The smith was female, tall and built for a gnome, and working away at the bellows.

“One mo’” she called out. Approaching them, she asked “So, what can I do for you?”

“This is War Pig,” said Hetzel, by way of introduction, “and he is unfortunately unarmored.”

Looking him over, the smith sized up War Pig. “Saddle?” she asked.

“He’s a recent addition to our party,” said Hetzel.

“You’re going to need the full package then,” she responded with enthusiasm at the prospect of a sale.

“We’ll we have been pretty good lately,” said Thea

“True. I haven’t set anyone on fire in days,” continued Fuego.

“I must warn you this isn’t going to be cheap. Custom job. Well, even more custom that usual.”

“What kind of cost are we talking about here?” asked Fuego.

“Oh, I’d say about three hundred gold, if that suits you,” the smith replied.

“And when do you require payment? On delivery or . . .” asked Thea

“Half now, half on pickup,” she replied. I’ve got the initial expense, you understand.

Fuego, Thea, and Hetzel stepped to the side for a private conversation.

“That’s more money than we have,” said Fuego.

“But War Pig!” exclaimed Hetzel

“Now hang on, no one’s saying you can’t get it,” interrupted Thea.

“But our money’s with Ruinfea,” finished Fuego.

“Well, I have some money saved up,” offered Thea.

“And I do, too” said Fuego.

“I did,” admitted Hetzel, “but I gave it to Ruinfea.”

“Maybe we can talk to her and haggle a bit, or offer something as collateral. Let’s see, we’ve got . . .” Feugo counted the coins in his hand. “We’ve got 122 gold. That’s not quite the 150 she’s asking, but it’s close. I think I can get her to work with us.”

“But what if she wants us to leave War Pig?!” Hetzel asked, worried.

“We’d likely need to do that anyway,” Thea replied “She needs to measure him and things like that.”

“Well, she can’t just keep him,” Hetzel said defiantly.

Returning to the smith, Fuego began haggling. “I’m sorry, Miss . . .?”

“Thistle. I’m Thistle.”

“Miss Thistle. I understand your need for a down payment, but it appears we only have 122 gold, having left the rest with another of our companions. We were wondering if you would accept this amount, and perhaps something as collateral to show our good faith?”

I don’t know how he did it, but Fuego was about to get more than he bargained for. Perhaps Thistle overheard their conversation and had pity on Hetzel.

“Tell you what,” she said, “You pay me the 122 gold now, and leave you friend here so I can measure him and make sure everything fits, and we’ll call it even. I’ve never made armor for a pig before.”

“Okay, but if War Pig starts giving you trouble, he really likes mushrooms,” Fuego told her. “Just be careful, because he really likes them.”

Leaning in to War Pig, Hetzel gave him a hug, telling him, “I know you’re a good pig, so behave for Thistle. I promise I’ll come back.” War Pig oinked in affection.

“Time wise, this’ll take me the better part of a full day,” Thistle told them.

“We understand. We’ll be back then,” Fuego assured her.

As they turned to leave, Hetzel hugged Fuego and Thea in appreciation. “Thank you!!”

They walked back to the main shrine, walking in and looking about at the priests buried in scrolls, books, and studies. A few paladins continued to patrol the area.

Toms Pums was still on duty, and, approaching them, said. “Ah, you’ve returned!” And then, looking about, he asked, “Where’s Brynwick?”

“Oh, she’s taking a friend to see the library.” Thea told him.

“Yeah, they like books or whatever,” Hetzel supplied.

“So are you here to pray?” Pums aksed.

“Not necessarily pray, more like mediate,” Fuego replied.

“You seek Oghma’s wisdom?”

“Every little bits helps,” agreed Thea.

“Do you require any services?”

“Are you bored or something?” asked Hetzel.

“Hetzel, you can’t just ask that!” exclaimed Thea.

“Pardon our friend . . .” said Fuego

“We would indeed like to focus on Oghma,” said Thea to Pums.

Behind her, Hetzel continued to mouth the word “bored”.

“Might we take in the beauty of this place?” asked Fuego.

“Oh yes, and take your time. Many come here for just such purposes.”

Fuego began describing the beauties of the Temple of Eldath in Little Grove, but was interrupted by Pums.

“Oh yes, that temple is quite beautiful, but ours has its own beauty. No inhabitant of Spriggan believes in destruction. We incorporate the natural into our architecture. I could offer you a tour . . . ?” He grew excited.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to keep you,” replied Fuego.

“It is my duty to attend!” Pums looked at the party with anticipation.

It seemed they were taking the tour whether they wanted to or not.

“So what about renovations?” asked Hetzel.

“Occasionally we have need. The main structure is a thousand years old, after all.” At that, Pums went on and on at length about the development of the shrine. While he might enjoy his subject, his delivery left much to be desired, and the group had a hard time paying attention. Hetzel tried to listed for anything that might indicate a recent change, but she didn’t understand much and soon became overwhelmed and bored.

Arriving at a different part of the temple, Pums began pointing out the remains of the previous high priests – stone effigies covering individual crypts.

Looking about, Thea noticed the seals on one particular crypt had been damaged.

“And who’s tomb is this?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s Gret Briarberry.”

“Did he die recently?”

“No; Castguard has been high priest for about a hundred years now. Briarberry came before him. In fact, Briarberry trained Castguard.”

“Has the tomb been renovated recently?”

“No; in fact we’d never renovate a tomb unless in cases of desecration. These tombs are of gnomish build, after all. They’re quality craftsmanship.”

Thea pointed to the disturbed seal. “Then what might you make of this?” she asked.

Poms stared, stammered, and then ran off. “I must get the high priest . . .”

“I’m not sure what’s happened to this tomb, but it’s obviously been disturbed.” Thea said.

“Do we poke a head in to see what might be missing or placed inside?” asked Fuego.

“That’s a good idea,” replied Thea, “but should we disturb it further or wait for the high priest to arrive?”

“I mean, worst case we’re dealing with an undead high priest kinda thing, right?” Hetzel

“We could also go back to meet up with the others . . .” Thea continued musing.

“Yeah, but that priest was whining about needing proof.” Hetzel pointed out.

“If we leave, does it seem suspicious?” asked Hetzel.

“It might,” Fuego agreed.

Hetzel answered her own question. “Why should we leave? We didn’t do anything; they’re the ones with weird disturbed tombs.”

“As far as they’re concerned, we’re pilgrims.” Fuego pointed out.

“But the high priest may have other opinions,” Thea observed. “Either way, I don’t think we should leave.”

“And, fortunately, the priest who was giving us the tour knows we didn’t do it.”

“Yes, exactly,” agreed Thea. “So what do you think? You think Gret’s body is still there?”

“Maybe with some extra worms,” Hetzel replied.

“It might be,” agreed Fuego, “but without rooting around we won’t know for sure.

Pums returned. “The high priest is away; he’s gone to send a letter.” He looked around. “Might you help me move this?” he asked, motioning to the lid.

Assisted by Fuego and Hetzel, the slab moved, and inside they found . . . nothing. No body. No grave goods. No worms. Nothing.

Pums staggered back in shock, clearly taken aback and scandalized. “But . . . but . . . paladins guard these tombs every day!”

“Someone fell asleep . . .” offered Fuego.

“These tombs are tended but never opened . . .”

“This was not quiet work, and no other tombs have been disturbed,” Hetzel observed.

“But . . . why?!”

“You can’t think of a reason?” asked Thea.

“No; after all, he’s been dead a century!”

“Was there anything particularly significant about him?” asked Fuego

“Every high priest is unique in their own right. They are high priests, after all.”

“What about stuff buried with them?” asked Hetzel

“None. High priests are buried without much adornment, save their own personal journal.”

“So . . . something written down,” Hetzel said.

Thea looked the lid over for symbols, finding none.

“So, what do we do?” she asked.

“We need to get the others,” Hetzel opined.

“Agreed,” Fuego

As the turned to go, Pums spoke. “I’d be careful of that Brynwick, if I were you.”

Hetzel turned on him. “Your mouth should be cautious.”

Pums glared at Hetzel. “How long have you known Brynwick?”

Fuego thought for a moment before responding. “Maybe about a week.”

Pums continued. “She’s marked by a darkness even she doesn’t understand.”

Thea nodded. “She’s told us what she knows.”

“Then you know the weight of it . . .” Pums replied.

“We’ll keep your warning in mind,” Thea told him, icily.

“You’ll have the weight of my foot in your ass . . .” Hetzel muttered under her breath.

They returned to my shrine, discussing what they’d learned.

#### *The Library of Spriggan*

Jii, Carrion, and I made our way to the library. Once inside, we split up. Jii went his own way while Carrion and I wandered over towards the aberration section. If our job was to cause a distraction, we certain did so. Carrion was like a child on their birthday, grabbing books at random and carrying them back to a table in a large stack. Glancing through the titles, I noticed

·         A book on aberration

·         A book on enchantments

·         A book on weather patterns

·         A picture book of lewd orcs

·         A book on burial rituals of tribes beyond the borderlands

Carrion grabbed a book at random and started studying it intently. Of course, it was the picture book.

“Picked a good one, I see,” I joked him.

“We can’t give up too quickly . . .” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

I sat down with the book on burial customs. I’d read it before, but that was okay. It was a good book.

Meanwhile, Jii changed his form to match various folks he’d seen about Spriggan, picking up books along the way. Finding a guard asleep, Jii picked his pocket, taking a ball of lint and a ring of keys. It was almost as if Jii knew exactly where he needed to go, because before Carrion and I knew it, Jii was back with us.

“We’ve got what we need.”

Picking up a book on ghosts and legends, Carrion announced “This is the book we need. What do we do now?”

I took him to check out the book, and then we, too, returned to the shrine.

#### *A Message, Interrupted*

With the group back together, Rylan handed over the message he’d written down. “ I copied this from Castguard, Bryan, but I can’t read it. I know you can. What’s it say?”

I looked at the message:

To the First Sword of Melee Magthere, Malaggar Tlabbar

A group of adventurers has arrived in Spriggan, investigating the events of Little Grove and threatening the future of the organization. This group is made of the following individuals:

It went on to describe us. I stared at the ground in shock, unable to say anything.

Meanwhile, Jii produced the other books he’d taken from the library and began distributing them.

·         For me, an insect plague spell scroll. I nodded in thanks.

·         For Carrion, a biography of magical heroes

·         For Fuego, a wall of force spell scroll. “Thank you, Jii.” / “Jii only wishes he could have gotten more of it out.”

·         For Hetzel, a pop-up book on battles during the War for Unification

·         For Ruinfea, a bestiary of mystical creatures

·         For Rylan, a cookbook of lost recipes. “This means more to me than I can explain. Thank you, Jii.”

·         For Thea, a collection of legendary ballads. “Thank you.” / “Jii couldn’t not; they weren’t using them.” / “They probably won’t even know they’re gone.”

Rylan examined the hollow book, finding a scroll and ruby gem inside. The scroll was written in a cryptic language and the gem appeared cultish in nature, shifting in color from red to purple and fiery orange.

“Fuck me sideways with a halberd,” he groaned. “This appears to be a scroll of true mind switch, a 9th-level spell that allows a person to switch minds with another person. You use the gem as a phlactory to store a soul. This is something liches and warlocks would use.”

“Oh shit,” muttered Ruinfea. “I wonder if there’s anything wrong with this halberd I found?”

Distractedly, I checked it for arcana, but found nothing.

“Yeah, we’ve got bad news, too.” Hetzel said, not lightening the mood in the least.

“The grave of the previous high priest has been disturbed,” explained Rylan, “and he’s no longer in residence. Neither is his journal, for what it’s worth.”

“But we did get a good deal on armor!” Hetzel interjected.

“Yeah, speaking of that, Thea and I need reimbursement,” Fuego began.

“Reimbursement!” exclaimed Carrion. “How can you think of reimbursement at a time like this?”

“Because,” Fuego explained, “One never knows when they might be separated from the party and find themselves in need of supplies. Not all of us can just take what we need.”

“Wait just a minute,” Rylan said. “What about that note. Bryn?”

Recovering myself, I began. “To the First Sword of Melee Magthere . . .” but no sooner had these words left my mouth than Rylan took off like a shot. Jii took off after him and kept pace. Thea and Ruinfea did their best, but soon fell behind, while Fuego, Hetzel, Carrion, and I soon lost sight of them.

Scanning the crowd, Rylan noticed Castguard leaving the owlry. At the same time, three owls took off, each of them headed the same direction.

At that point, Thea and Ruinfea arrived. “We can’t let that letter get back!” he exclaimed. “Thea, stop the high priest!” At these words, Thea took off, while Rylan and Jii took aim at two of the owls with their bows. Ruinfea, though unskilled in archery, was determined to do her part, taking aim at the third. Three arrows flew, and three owls tumbled to the ground. Immediately the owlers came out to investigate while Jii and Rylan and Ruinfea ran for the letters.

Thea took down Castguard in a tackle, immediately drawing the unwanted attention of the city watch.

It was here the rest of us finally caught up. We watched as guards surrounded Thea and caught up to Rylan, Jii and Ruinfea. Jii tried changing shape, a move I was later told is called unsettling visage, in an attempt to frighten the guards away.

Rylan tried shouting, but everyone fell silent as Castguard cast a spell rallying the guards and overcoming Jii’s unsettling visage.

“Arrest them all!” he shouted.

“If you arrest any of us,” Rylan shouted back, “then you declare war on House Menzoberranzan!”

#### *What Happened at the Owlery*

Suddenly, I felt very, very tired. My eyes grew heavy and I felt incredibly sluggish – almost like I’d sat up several nights in a row and had pushed beyond tired several times only to have it catch up with me.

I saw Ruinfea begin to cast a spell. It seemed to me she was trying fog cloud like she’d done with the beholder, but her arms fell to her sides and nothing happened.

The guards, meanwhile, had advanced on us. Some had already approached Thea, takin gout cuffs and links to arrest her. She did not appear to resist them. Now, they were on all of us. Rylan resisted by backing off from them, while Jii also backed off and lifted his hands over his head. Already seven feet tall, Jii would’ve been difficult to arrest anyway. What came next made it impossible.

As I watched, Jii rolled his shoulders back and then squared up on all fours. He stared sprouting scales and began growing at a rather alarming rate. In a scream of rage and rending and terror, my friend transformed himself into a twenty-five foot tall adult black dragon. An undead black dragon, seemingly falling apart and decaying.

At the sight of this body of horror, the guards paused their actions.

Rylan pulled his rapier, while Ruinfea called out “Are you okay?”, her voice lost to most in the noise and chaos.

Hetzel, seeing the guards about to shackle Thea, raged and charged them. I wasn’t sure if she was going for the guards or for Castguard, but in the end she took out the guard closest to Thea, knocking him to the ground.

“Get to the dragon!” she called to Thea as the civilians fled in terror of the whole scene.

She might’ve been warning Thea, but I took her advice as well, running from the guards closest to me and successfully making my way under Jii’s now massive belly.

The guards began to rally once more. Once more Jii made them question their decisions as he began spewing an acidic breath into the square. Most of us were able to avoid it, but poor Hetzel got caught in the spray. He struggled a bit, but seemed to shrug it off as she dove for cover.

Then, Jii began emitting an aura that reminded me of Rylan’s. Most of the guards were down and out, while others ran away or stood stricken in fear. Lashing out, Jii swept his tail through the square, catching one unsuspecting guard full in the head. His skull cracked inside his helmet and his head split like an overripe melon.

Rylan advanced on Castguard, now prone on the ground, as I rushed toward the guard.

Pulling out a handful of the diamonds I’d received from Rylan, I muttered a short prayer to Oghma. He heard my prayer, and the diamonds disappeared in a flash of smoke as the guard returned to life. Some might ask why I did it; why I owed this town anything after what I’d gone through my whole life and discovered in the last few hours.

Truth be told I did it for me as much as for him. My scar is burning. Castguard might’ve done this to me on purpose, and I don’t know what that might mean. I need to prove to myself I’m not a bad person. He was used by him as much as I was. And it certainly won’t hurt our reputation to bring him back. I couldn’t save Adrian Oakengrove, and I couldn’t bring back Raffin Whane, but today? Today one person gets to go home that otherwise wouldn’t.

Rylan loomed over Castguard. “Yield,” he demanded intimidatingly.

Castguard, amazingly, heard Rylan and looked up at him. Castguard’s once splendid robes now hung in tatters, showing burned flesh all over his body. He raised his hands in fright and flinched at Rylan’s face. As his magic aura fell, the tiredness affecting me vanished.

“Yield,” he admitted in defeat, and promptly fell unconscious.

“These letters,” Rylan shouted to the guard while waving the papers in the air, “These letters prove that High Priest Donnell Castguard is a traitor to both Spriggan and his god.”

The one guard that had some of his senses still about him began to speak. “I . . . I think . . .” He looked at Castguard. “Can we take this up with the king?” He seemed on the edge of shock.

“Take a breath,” Rylan commanded, “Do as I say, and just breath calmly.”

As the guard began to relax, Jii growled, and the guard tensed up again.

“He just wants to protect us,” Rylan explained.

“Shall I fetch the king for you, then?” the guard asked.

“No, we will go to him. It would be helpful if you were to inform him we’re on the way, though.”

The guard left, and the civilians finally cleared out the area as clerics came to tend the wounded.

They, too, looked up at Jii with a mix of fright and horror as Rylan tried to explain what happened.

Tos Pums approached Hetzel. “Do you require assistance?” Glaring at him, she gestured with what I’m told is the dwarven equivalent of the middle finger. He stared at her a moment before backing off and approaching Castguard.

“Oh, he’s under arrest,” Rylan informed Pums.

At that moment, the ground rumbled and shifted ever so slightly. Rylan certainly noticed it, and I’m fairly certain Hetzel would’ve noticed it, her being used to ground movements and all, but I’m not sure about the rest.

Thea made her way over to Hetzel and healed her up, while Ruinfea stared up at Jii. She started a healing spell before stopping abruptly. “No; I shouldn’t. Bad things tend to happen when one attempts to heal the undead.”

Hetzel and Thea made their way over to the rest of us. “I know we’re arresting this dude,” Hetzel said, motioning to Castguard. “But does this rumbly feel familiar?”

“Fuck,” groaned Rylan, “it does.”

Jii bent down to the rest of us, his face streaked. Was he crying?

Rylan reached up and began stroking his snout.

“Are you okay?” Ruinfea asked once more.

“We’re taking this man for questioning,” declared Rylan. “The quake will introduce itself shortly.”

“That man is the High Priest; he must be healed,” once of the clerics protested.

“We understand, but he must also go to the king to answer for his crimes,” argued Fuego

“Heal him in front of me,” Rylan bargained.

Awake and cognizant, Castguard looked at us.

“Explain this,” Rylan demaned.

“You have no right . . .” Castguard began.

“Oh yes we do!” Ruinfea countered.

Jii growled.

“Yes, I do.” Rylan said. “This letter involves my kin and would get me and everyone with me killed. You were writing to the First Blade, after all.”

*From Jax’s Lore of Hilan: Melee-Magthere*

*Melee-Magthere was the warrior school for the drow of Menzoberranzan. It was part of the Tier Breche Academy. Notably, Drizzt Do'Urden spent time here in training.*

*Structure*

*Melee-Magthere was a pyramidal structure in the eastern part of the Tier Breche cavern, and nicknamed the "Pyramid".*

*Schooling*

*Melee-Magthere was one of the three schools that noble male children of the drow were expected to attend. Their education usually began at 20 years old and continued on for another 10 more years.[6] Graduates of warrior's academy did not hold as high a prestige as those who graduated from Sorcere, the school of wizardry, or Arach-Tinilith, the school of clerics, but still held a greater distinction than those who were normal citizenry.*

*One of the events of training there was the Grand Melee, in which Zaknafein Do'Urden was the victor seven years running, three times against older more advanced students. Drizzt Do'Urden followed in his father's footsteps by doing the same and every year after his third year, competing against students three years ahead of him and still ending up the top in his class.*

*The students of Melee-Magthere spent their first fifty days listening to tales that were mostly lies regarding how the elves of the surface world mistreated the drow, then about nine years in combat tactics. A notable training exercise to develop concentration and self-control involved students sitting naked with their eyes closed as masters dropped poisonous, biting centipedes on them. A student's first break in concentration earned them a disciplinary hit; a second break in concentration earned a more forceful hit; and third failure resulted in the student's expulsion. A deep meditative state afforded healing capabilities and heightened martial prowess. The final year rounded out their education by spending the first six months at Sorcere and the last six months at Arach-Tinilith.*

*The Ceremony of Graduation was regarded as very holy by the followers of Lolth, and it took place in the hall of Arach-Tinilith. The soon to be graduated would done a ceremonial robe and would sit in circles against the wall of the hall, while circles of priestesses sat and chanted around a large brazier. The matron mistress of the clerical school awarded the highest honor to the best female student that was going to graduate in the same year. After the matron mistress coaxed a narcotic red smoke from the flames, the student would strip naked and summon a glabrezu from the flames. Other priestesses would start selecting males from the outer benches to engage in sexual activities, which would be enhanced by the narcotic smoke. It is implied that the glabrezu also engaged in sexual intercourse with the student that summoned it. It may be that this is how draegloths were actually begotten.*

*Older students from Melee-Magthere trained priestesses at Arach-Tinilith in the art of swordcraft.*

*Languages such as Common were taught here.*

*Organization*

*In 1372 DR, Malaggar Faen Tlabbar served as the First Sword of Melee-Magthere.*

*Inhabitants*

*All of the masters and students of Melee-Magthere were male. Masters of Melee-Magthere all had rings with dragons on them to mark them as masters. These rings made the bearer's skin as tough as a dragon's. Non-nobles were permitted to become lesser masters and were also given emblems of Melee-Magthere to act as a house emblem, allowing them to levitate.*

“You don’t know what you did . . .” Ruinfea taunted.

“I know my alliances,” he replied.

“Yeah, but with the wrong people,” Ruinfea countered.

“Oh no,” Rylan corrected her. “He allied himself with the right people for his purposes. It’s just his bad luck he tried this with me. We need to get inside, and you’ll see why this is funny.” He continued shaking his head and chuckling. “He really tried to get each one of us killed . . . Bryn why don’t you tell everyone what that letter said?”

I read the letter in full this time. In his descriptions, he seemed to think Ruinfea is a forest elf. Interesting.

We made our way through the town, and Jii followed us carefully, only upsetting one cabbage cart before arriving at the palace gates. Two guards approached us, already looking pale. Jii sniffed them, and one of the passed out. The other opened the door. “You’re expected,” he said.

Jii couldn’t enter, and Rylan held Ruinfea back with her. “We’ll meet you inside,” she said.

#### *What Happened with Jii*

Rylan looked up at Jii. “”You need healing, and we’re not moving until this happens.”

Jii shook his head.

“It’s okay; you’re among friends. No one else is here. You can drop the image and we’ll help you. I promise it’ll be just fine.”

“No.” It sounded like a whisper.

“You have to change at some point. You’ll break Thea’s cart like that, and poor War Pig will probably shit himself.”

“If you change back, I’ll give you some food,” Ruinfea offered. “I’ve got some tasty meat pies in here . . .”

Jii turned away.

“Jii, listen. I’ve got a plan and it’s a good one, but . . .”

“You just got to have a little faith,” finished Carrion.

Carrion. Where did he go and where did he come from?

Jii stared at him.

“I give you my word to The Traveler that we will help you.” Rylan tried convincing Jii.

Laying down, Jii began to change back. The sound was like bones breaking in reverse as the black dragon folded in on itself. His skin tried to knit itself back together, but it was just wrong, lacking a proper shape. That might be due to the fact that Jii’s spine just couldn’t figure out what to do. Jii fell unconscious as he fell back into his changeling form.

No, not unconscious. Dead. Or rather, mostly dead.

Ruinfea cast cure wounds as Rylan tried to guide the spine back into its proper form while chanting a prayer in High Drow.

Jii felt slightly warmer, drawn closer to himself. Closer to the pain.

“It’s clear he’s dying,” murmured Ruinfea, close to tears, as she cast cure wounds again, with more power.

Jii felt a river of warmth as life began to outweigh death.

Continuing in prayer and keeping her concentration, Rylan handed Ruinfea a vial.

Ruinfea went to give the liquid to Jii, but changelings don’t really have what could be called a mouth. She looked at Jii’s glowing eyes, and glanced back at Rylan.

Rylan took the vial back and handed her another. “Two drops,” she muttered, while keeping her prayers going.

Ruinfea successfully put two drops in Jii’s eyes.

Jii felt a burning, pulsating sensation and then passed out.

“We need help,” Rylan told Ruinfea as she wrapped Jii in his cloak.

Running inside, Ruinfea and Carrion quickly found us.

“Jii needs help. Now.” She practically shouted.

Almost as one, we turned heel and started heading back outside. Family.

“Wait. Someone needs to stay with Castguard.”

Hetzel and Carrion volunteered.

Coming outside, the first thing I noticed was the blood. Lots of blood.

“Rylan, are you okay?” asked Ruinfea. “You’re looking very . . . bright.”

“I’m okay. Help Jii,” he replied weakly.

Thea and I used our skills to heal Jii almost fully, but he remained unconscious.

Rylan tried a cleansing toxin, but to no effect.

“We could at least take him to the caravan,” Thea offered.

Rylan began to feel better, and asked for help carrying him. Fuego stepped up and they arranged a carry.

Suddenly, Jii woke up, half in Rylan’s arms and half in Fuego’s arms. He promptly headbutted Rylan.

“Told you he’d be okay,” Rylan joked, shaking his head.

#### *In the Palace*

Back inside, Hetzel and Carrion watched over Castguard as the king walked out. His escort was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said, apologizing. “What is happening?”

Carrion and Hetzel shared a glance, each of them hoping the other would speak.

Sighing, Hetzel began. “So, he’s evil,” she said, pointing to Castguard. “He’s been writing to someone called One Sword or something like that. Also, a dead guy is missing from your dead place, and he probably had something to do with it. But he won’t answer any questions because he’s a jerk.”

And then, a voice from the doorway.

“Oh my, your grace,” a woman intoned, “it seems I’ve arrived just in time.”

A magnificent woman with lavender-grey skin stepped into the room.

“I am Geldaere Baenre . . .” she began.

“Are you Mrs. Lady Rylan’s Mom?” asked Hetzel.

She looked slightly confused, but then gathered herself. “So, my son is here causing trouble?

“Not causing, solving,” Hetzel clarified.

“Come with me,” Geldaere invited.

“Where?”

“To the next room; the king has matters he must attend to.”

“We need to keep an eye on this dude,” Hetzel replied, jerking her head in Castguard’s direction.

It was at this point in the conversation the rest of us caught up to them. Jii had transformed himself into a blue cayman.

“Hi, mom,” Rylan said nonchalantly. “These are my friends and we need to talk.”

Mom?!? I sank to the floor in shock. I knew Rylan was connected, but the son of this obviously royal woman?? What might this mean?

She stared at us. “Some of you I have met, others, not. What are your names . . . unless you’d prefer Rylan make the introductions?”

Once again in the presence of authority (for lack of a better word) we defaulted to our usual method of having Rylan speak for us. As he made the introductions, we responded with nods or bows or, in Jii’s case, a grunt.

“Might I impose upon your grace to hold court?” Geldaere asked Angelspeck.

He nodded in assent.

“Your grace, would you join us?” Rylan asked. “This involves Spriggan as much as it involves us.” He glared at Castguard, who went pale.

Meanwhile, I’d been trying to wipe the blood off me. Holding court and I looked like this? Jii leaned down and began licking the blood – his blood – off me. I was startled at first, but let him continue. I might not like my personal space being invaded, but knowing Jii as I do, this is also a big deal for him. I smiled softly at him.

Angelspeck looked at the two of us, bewildered, while Geldaere acted as if this was just another day and entirely within her routine.

We entered the throne room, which was, like many places in Spriggan, lit with fairy lights. A large throne stood on a dais, with two smaller thrones flanking it. Geldaere allowed Angelspeck to choose first, as was his right. Ascending the dais, he sat center, while Geldaere sat to the right – our right, his left.

“So I know your names,” Geldaere began, “But I don’t exactly know who you are. How have you come to accompany my son?”

“Mama,” Rylan replied, exasperated. “These are the people I wrote you about.”

“But his grace said . . .” She began, then stopped. “You are the heroes of Little Grove? But his grace said you introduced yourselves as the Third Family. . .”

“Because that’s our name . . .”

“All good groups have names.”

“No, mom. It’s more than a name. This is how we feel. It was Jii that first brought it up, and Bryn who first introduced us as such. You have the family you’re born into, and the family that raises you (which, as you know, isn’t always the same thing,) and then you have this . . .” He motioned to all of us. “This is our third family.”

Geldaere looked at Rylan, then at us, and then back at Rylan. She paused in thought, then spoke. “Then by Loth I consider them under my protection as well.

Rylan smiled at Hetzel. “See? I told you family would be important.”

Geldaere continued. “And since you consider yourselves such close family, will you be returning with him?”

“Now mom, just wait a moment. You haven’t been caught up on recent events.” And so Rylan caught his mother up on all that had happened since we left the king’s dining table. Afterwards, he and I handed Castguard’s letters over to her and Angelspeck.

They read them with stern expressions. She whispered into the air, and a rather large spider appeared next to her. Handing the letter over to the arachnid, she said to us, “This will be looked into.”

“Mama, someone is planning a coup against you,” Rylan implored.

“I know. That’s why I’m here, my little spiderling,” she said with affection.

“We need to continue to track down the Hollow Company. Where’s Tiago?” Rylan asked.

“He’s still keeping watch over his son,” Angelspeck said.

“Is this the husband of the former general Stormosin?” Geldaere asked.

“Former?!” we nearly all shouted at once.

“Yes, former. The emperor has stripped her of all ranks and titles.”

“Well,” said Ruinfea satisfyingly, “that’s the first good news we’ve had all day.”

“Hey now, don’t forget War Pig’s armor!” Hetzel reminded her.

“But you do need to come home,” Geldaere reminded Rylan. “Will you come once your affairs are settled here in Spriggan?”

Again, we all spoke up.

“But the hellgates!”

“What about the abyssal gods?”

“We don’t know how far this goes!”

Rylan cut us off. “Mama,” he said, “I’ve thought of that. I thought I might stay to see the end of all of this. Then, I’ll come home, bringing honor to my house with me.”

Geldaere looked at her son. “My dear, you’ve learned diplomacy while on the surface. I agree. Take care of your business, and then return home and we’ll find you a suitable wife.”

We looked at Rylan. A wife? That wouldn’t work for him . . .

Angelspeck spoke up. “Yes, settle your business. But for now that business is here in Spriggan.”

At that moment, Tiago entered the room, obviously informed of Geldaere Baenre’s presence and dressed to impress.

“Your graces,” he began “I do apologize for my impropriety . . .”

“Don’t think of it,” Geldaere replied. “I’ve been informed of your . . . situation. I can’t say I’d have done differently for my spawn.”

I was tempted to take umbrage on Rylan’s behalf, but he calmed me with a look. It was apparently another sign of affection.

“So,” Tiago asked us, “what did you find? Will you be able to help my son?”

Carrion pulled out the book on auromancy. “I’ve had some time to study this, and while I’m not the most skilled wizard, I’m certain I can handle this. I’ve had the time to study, I know the underlying theory, and I’m confident in my ability.”

Ruinfea pulled the halberd out of her bag. “I found this hidden in Castguard’s room. We’re not sure why it’s important, but he certainly didn’t want it found out.”

For the first time, Castguard began to look concerned.

Then Rylan pulled out the hollowed book and scroll and gem. “We also think he’s been body hopping,” he said accusingly.”

“Well, what do you have to say?” Angelspeck demanded.

Castgaurd glared at us, and then his face contorted. We stepped towards him as a pool of blood began pouring from his mouth. With a look of defiance, Castguard spit his own tongue on the floor.

“Oh, this is lovely,” said Ruinfea sarcastically

I stared at it. “How will we get answers now?” I wondered out loud.

“There are other methods of interrogation . . .” implied Rylan

“Like a book on minds?” asked Hetzel

“The possibilities are endless,” muttered Jii.

“Remember how Toby said he’d rather die that talk?” asked Thea.

“This son of a bitch is why your son is currently unconscious” Rylan told Tiago.

Tiago advanced on Castguard, avoiding the bloody tongue. “If you’ve done permanent harm . . . I was not trained in the healing arts. I know things forbidden in your libraries . . .”

As someone who spent their whole life there, I wonder if he knows what’s actually in that library. But that’s neither here nor there.

Castguard didn’t react.

“Arrogant cocksucker.” Tiago spat before turning back to us. “What are your next steps?”

“We help Aurun,” Carrion said.

“And I will help you,” offered Tiago.

“But why take the body?” asked Rylan. “What about the missing high priest?”

“Well, in necromancy . . .” began Tiago.

“What do necks have to do with it?” asked Hetzel.

“In the art of raising people from the dead,” Tiago began again, “the remains of the religious or divine are important in higher level spells. We’re talking about something big, potentially world-changing.”

“Profane . . .” muttered Carrion.

“Indeed,” agreed Thea, “but he was the only one missing. The other graves hadn’t been messed with.”

“Another stupid idea, if I might say so,” said Carrion. “We’re missing pieces. I think Aurun has a bigger part in this than even he might know. But locked in this state . . . Let’s enter his dreamscape.”

“We know they listened before,” Hetzel interjected. “What’s to say they aren’t doing it again?”

“What do you do with traitors here in Spriggan?” Carrion asked.

“In my realm he’d be executed with prejudice, after being made whole, of course. We don’t throw out a cleric’s tongue; who know what it might say?”

Angelspeck ordered Castguard shackled.

“Right then,” Tiago said, “to my son?”

We nodded, then made our way back to Aurun’s room. Feno sat at the foot of his bed on a stool, her head bowed forward, asleep on the dagger.

“Oh,” she said, shaking herself awake. “You’re back. Is everything okay? Are you going to help him?”

“Things are slightly better than they were . . .” said Feugo

Tiago picked his daughter up. “They need the room, my dear, but yes, they will help him.” Turning back to us, he reiterated “Ask if you need anything. I will keep watch outside the door.”

The door closed behind him, and we found ourselves alone. Carrion began digging in his bag, pulling out a plethora of odds and ends. If Ruinfea had a bag of holding, Carrion had a bag of chaos. “We need to turn off the lights,” he informed us.

“We could just throw them out the window,” Hetzel offered.

“I protect,” Jii growled.

Rylan gave Jii back his worms to calm him down. Distracted, he began scolding his worms as there were fewer now. “Sorry mama,” they seemed to reply.

“What should I feed you?”

“Fresh blood . . .”

The lights dimmed and candles flickered. Carrion lit some incense and the smell of sandalwood and patchouli filled the air. He outlined the door in chalk and gathered us together.

“You need to hold hands.”

We did so.

“I will be the warden, guarding the door.”

The door turned cold and greyscale while light poured through the chalk lines around it. He swung the door open. Rather than the next room, in which we could faintly hear Tiago and Feno, the door opened on a dark, dense, lush forest.

“I’ll be waiting for you, heroes . . .” he said as Ruinfea stepped through the gateway.

One by one we followed.

#### *Into the Dreamscape*

“These are some spooky trees . . .” muttered Hetzel, as we entered a forest drenched in dense fog, the oppressive air hanging cold and damp and heavy over us. We became aware of sounds and movement just outside our peripheral vision, constantly shifting as we attempted to determine its direction. We were not alone.

“Is this real?” asked Fuego.

Thea and I shared a look. Somehow this wood felt familiar. I was reminded of another wood, the Umbral Woods - the Wood of Dusk, But those woods were not this spooky or evil. Those trees were outside Limdel, capital of the eleven lands before the Unification and still the center of its culture. Rumors said it was a faerie wood, but if so, this was a nasty, warped version of it.

Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, Hetzel put her hands on her hips. “I know you’re there,” she called into the fog.

Jii patted her shoulder.

Taking this as a signal to fight, she immediately drew her axe. In response, a low growling came from the woods. A lion? A dragon? I couldn’t tell.

“Now what’re you going to do, state at us?” Hetzel shouted.

I saw Rylan disappear into the fog. I assumed he was trying to scout out whatever was in the fog.

The growling grew louder, more vocal, as branches broke under a large creature making its way toward us.

“Hetzel, shush.” Thea tried to quiet her.

“But it’s rude . . .”

“I know, but,” began Thea before Jii cut her off.

“Creatures don’t know rude.” he declared.

Out in the woods, Rylan almost stepped on a tail moving through the underbrush. Following it, he saw the wings of a large creature about 12 feet tall.

Thea and Ruinfea stared into the fog and tried to break its stealth. We watched as glowing eyes appeared out of the fog. First two, then four, then six.

We saw Rylan making his way back to us as the creature attacked with the roars of a lion and dragon and the scream of a goat. A three- headed chimera emerged.

Ruinfea tried dominate beast, but to no avail.

“What the fuck?” exclaimed Hetzel, as the beast charged Ruinfea.

Rylan used its distraction to attempt an assassination, dealing significant damage to the central lion’s head, blinding it. Blood gushed from the base of its neck, and as it cried out in pain and shock it spewed out a cone of fire.

Hetze and Rylan and Thea were caught directly, taking significant damage, while the rest of us took minor damage. Jii, having wandered ahead, went unscathed.

Fuego issued hellish rebuke, and the creature screamed at it went ablaze, more blood pouring out, boiling. He then issued an eldritch blast.

I saw the chimera’s breath catch in its chest and stagger back as if it had been punched, hard. A hole appeared in its chest as it crumpled, let out a sigh, and died.

“I hope that wasn’t someone we knew . . .” Rylan remarked.

“Is that normal?” asked Thea.

“No, I’m just paranoid,” replied Rylan.

“I was gonna day, if so . . .” Hetzel said.

“Yeah, I’ve never actually seen that.” Rylan clarified.

“Now what?” asked Fuego.

“We entered an unfamiliar place and killed an unfamiliar creature,” Thea observed. “Who knows what that might mean.”

“I’ll take the blame” declared Rylan

“Well, Jii tapped me . . .” explained Hetzel.

“Things here bigger than us,” Jii said. “We leave them alone. We in someone else’s house.”

“Yes, but is this actual Dreamland or just in Aurun’s head?” asked Rylan.

“There’s too many unknowns,” offered Fuego.

“Doesn’t matter,” saidJii. “We don’t kill.”

“We don’t know if it was real,” Rylan pointed out.

Maybe we can subdue or incapacitate or avoid things,” Thea offered.

“You know, a month ago I wouldn’t have cared. Morality can be a tricky thing.” Rylan sighed.

“Well, it didn’t eat us, so that’s in the pro column,” offered Hetzel.

“Shouldn’t we heal up now?” I asked.

Rylan and Ruinfea discussed scouting as Thea played a song and I offered a mass healing word.

We noticed a path through the woods.

“Rylan, where did this kid grow up?” asked Thea.

“Well, the Stormosins lived in many places, but kept a home in Limdel.”

“The reason I ask is that these woods feel familiar . . .”

Rylan stood lost in thought. “Thea, your a genius.” He recalled the letters between Thiago and himself. Aurun had a cabin retreat; Rylan knew to follow the path.

“What? You’re telling me we’re going to a cabin in the woods?” asked Thea.

“Most paths are game trails . . .” remarked Jii.

“Game trails?” asked Hetzel. “Do you mean like tiddlywinks?”

”No, Hetzel.” Feugo replied. “More like hunting.”

“Oh, that makes more sense,” Hetzel said.

Behind us the chimera’s body dissolved bit by bit, blowing away like spores in the wind.

”Now, Jii,” Thea warned, “don’t eat or lick anything.”

“Yeah Jii,” said Ruinfea

We followed the path to a large lake thatlooked flooded and overgrown. Jii made his way through the forest and tried to find the path. About 6 feet from the group he became aware of something sliding over his foot.

”There’s stuff in the water,” he mouthed to us and pointed downwards. About 15 feet away the water became shallow again and he refound the trail.

“I have a thing with water,” said Ruinfea.

“Well, it’s no my fault we’re wading in some kid’s brain water,” remarked Rylan.

“Nobody said it was,” replied Hetzel.

Thea looked at us. “So, who’s got who?”

Feugo lifted Hetzel with no problem.

“I’m pretty sure i can't swim,” observed Hetzel.

“You know, every time we’ve gone shopping we haven’t picked up any healing potions,” remarked Fuego. “Next time we need to remedy that.”

They reached the other side and Thea and I started to make our way across.

We had just about reached the middle of the stream when I looked down. I don’t know if it was the water or fear or what, but I started to slip, falling off Thea’s shoulders and into the water.

Thea reached down and grabbed at me, keeping me afloat. As my feet cleared the water, she noticed something coming up after me. Rushing toward the shore, she was swept off her feet and we bith went tumbling into the water.

Thinking quickly, she tossed me towards Jii while she went under the brackish water.

Meanwhile, Ruinfea had transformed into a chameleon and wrapped herself into Rylan’s braids.  Rylan and Jii dove in after Thea, with Ruinfea hanging on for her life.

“Looks like we could play dwarf chicken . . .” observed Hetzel from the bank.

“I’m afraid to ask,” commented Fuego.

“If I go down to the water and there’s something in there, will it come after me if I make a distraction?” she asked.

“Possibly,” Fuego replied, “but if something happens to you I’m going to try to save you.”

Sitting on the bank, I cast aid on Thea and Jii and Rylan.

Diving under Thea, Rylan came up and cupped her butt, lifting her with such intensity that the vines let go and she was launched toward Jii.

I’m not sure what happened, but Jii dove in the wrong direction. Thea went over as he went under, leaving Thea alone and Jii nowhere to be seen. Rylan headed toward Thea while the vines wrapped around Jii’s waist and dragged him down. He tried stabbing at the vines, and they jerked in pain as Jii drew cold blood.

Meanwhile, Hetzel waded into the shallows and attacked the water with her axe. “Your mother was a puddle and your father was a raccoon’s bladder!” she insulted it.

Vines shot out of the water, wrapped around the handle, and tore the axe from her hands, dragging it under the water. Hetzel raged at the water.

Fuego cast minor illusion of Hetzel not being able to swim to try to distract the vines, while Ruinfea cast water breathing on Thea and Rylan and herself. Thea drew her dagger and started swimming in the direction she saw Jii heading.

Rylan kept an eye on her while watching her back.

Jii stabbed again but missed, and the creature tightened around his chest, drawing an air bubble from his lungs.

Hetzel charged the water. In her rage she never saw the vine that wrapped around her neck and pulled her under. She grabbed for a hand axe, but couldn’t hit the thing holding her.

Fusego’s distraction drew some vines above the water, and he cast fireball. The vines turned to ash and mucous, leaving blackened nubs just under the surface.

Jii, meanwhile, was pulled deeper. The vines drew him toward a river god crowned with dead vines, its long, bony fingers tipped with spindly fingernails reaching up for him.

Ruinfea enhanced Rylan’s abilities with bull’s strength.

Thea could see the rough shape of Jii and swam towards him, casting sleep. The god immediately fell into a deep slumber, releasing Jii.

Rylan boosted himself out of the water, taking Hetzel with him, Ruinfea still hanging on for all she was worth.

“My axe!” shouted Hetzel, clearing the water, but none of us could see it.

As Rylan headed back into the water, I cast locate object to help him narrow down his search.

He found the sword, along with other loot, which he and Ruinfea stuffed into the bag of holding.

Taking the axe gratefully from Rylan, I heard Hetzel exclaim, “Thank you, Rylan!” and start hugging her axe like a child hugs a stuffed animal.

Fuego started a small fire while Jii and Thea moved off into the woods to dry off.

“I’m sorry I slipped,” I started, before Thea cut me off.

“Bryn, this wasn’t your fault.”

“But it kinda was . . .”

“No. That thing was in there either way.”

“But we attracted it because I couldn’t hold on . . .”

“We would’ve attracted it either way.”

“Maybe,” a agreed halfheartedly.

“Blaming yourself does nothing,” said Rylan. “And punishing yourself does nothing to help you or anyone else. It’s hard, but blaming yourself solves nothing.”

“Yeah, Bryn,” continued Fuego. “There was no way any of us could’ve known this would happen.”

“Besides,” interjected Thea, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Well, I’ve at least read about something similar . . .” I said, but the conversation appeared to be over.

Fuego’s fire lasted a few minutes, and we headed off down the trail, finally coming to a two-story cabin.

“This isn’t exactly how I remember it,” said Rylan as we arranged ourselves at the door. Jii positioned himself so he would be behind the open door; I stood behind him.

Rylan knocked and called Aurun’s name. We heard heavy footsteps and the door was opened by a stone golem, bulky and huge.

“Your dad sent me,” Rylan said, and the golem turned and headed back inside.

We followed him to a warm, comforting back room. On the floor, a female figure sat playing with some toys. A carved chimera lay on its back, and next to her a stack of papers lay with drawings on them, the toppost page covered in vines.

“Feno? It’s Rylan, sweetheart.”

“Did Mister Stone let you in? Aurun said I had to stay here . . .”

“Your father sent me to get you.”

“What’s the password, then?”

Rylan thought back to his conversations with Tiago.

“Daisy,” he replied.

Feno nodded and stood up. “It’s all right, Mister Stone; you can go to sleep now.”

Rylan picked Feno up in his arms. “It seems Aurun’s switched bodies,” he said.

“I told you he was a douche,” remarked Hetzel.

“Didn’t we arm her back in the real world?” asked Thea.

“Yes,” Rylan answered.

“Well, at least it was only a dagger,” Fuego observed.

“But I’ve seen what Jii can do with a dagger . . .” Thea replied.

Jii looked away as Thea patted his shoulder. “It’s impressive,” she said.

The woods were bright and sunny and normal as we left the cabin. We walked back toward the door unencumbered. The lake was now a pond with ducks swimming peacefully on its surface. Jii squinted at them in distrust.

Where the chimera had been was now a field of daisies, and golden rays of sunlight flowed around a golden door.

“Feno,” said Rylan, “I need you to pretend you’re asleep. We need to have a plan before we go back . . .”

We spent several minutes preparing ourselves, talking about who could do what and how we’d best achieve our goals.

With our equipment and ourselves readied, we opened the door.

We moved as one. Carrion looked worn as he did a headcount and closed the door.

In the bed, Aurun (as we now knew) stirred in their bed.

“Where’s Tigao and Feno?” Rylan asked.

“What happened?”

Rylan tapped the scrolls at Carrion’s side. “We should talk to Tiago,” he said.

Carrion followed us as we opened the door. Tiago and Aurun (as Feno) stood with their backs to us; Aurun held the dagger behind his back.

I tried to command Aurun to sleep, but with no effect. I’d forgotten elves don’t sleep.

Jii successfully moved behind Aurun and restrained him while Thea locked the dimensional shackles on him. Tiago caught on and turned, and as he did so Rylan quickly moved him behind him in a move that would make the most accomplished dancers envious. Rylan adopted a defensive stance as Tiago asked

“What’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he answered. “Hetzel, go get the high priest.”

At this point Arurun regained his senses and began to scream. Why hadn’t we done anything about his mouth??

Jii tried to stop him, but it was too late.

“Is everything all right?” the guards outside the room asked.

“Everything’s all right, Feno just dropped a box on her foot,” called Tiago.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Jii said loundly in Feno’s voice.

Aurun glared at him.

“Fuego, don’t you go get Feno?” asked Rylan.

Going into the bedroom, Feno rubbed her shoulder.

“You can get up now; you can come with us,” he said.

“Has my brother gone over the line?” she asked.

“Yes,” Fuego replied. “There are some things that just shouldn’t be done, but especially to family.

As they talked they reentered the room just as Hetzel returned with Castguard.

#### *Interrogating Castguard and Aurun*

She dragged him in like a mother cat dragging an angry kitten. He was still covered in his own blood as Hetzel threw him down, hard.

“Hello there,” said Thea sarcastically.

“I don’t know how you expect him to speak,” remarked Hetzel. “He doesn’t have a tongue.”

“That’s what mind reading is for . . .” said Rylan, ominously.

Up til now, Tiago had hoped Aurun had been an unwilling or unwitting participant in the Hollow Company, somehow drawn in against his will. But as Rylan explained what we found in the dreamscape, his countenance fell.

Tiago remained silent, whether from shock or to control his emotions I cannot say with certainty.

“Is the spell reversible?” someone asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Rylan, not unkindly.

Tiago pulled out the scroll again and examined it.

“You going to check him for a brand?” Rylan asked Hetzel.

Hetzel sighed. “I already dragged him up here and he was a pain, let me tell you. Now you want me to take off his shirt, too?” She sounded like a teenager. “All right, fine. I’ll do it, but just this once.”

I think the strain of the day was starting to set in, not only on Jii, but on all of us.

Hetzel lifted his shirt, holding her nose at the smell. The typical smell of the elderly, combined with blood and sweat and fear, is not pleasant. I looked at the brand marking his back.

“Well, that’s been there a while.” I said. And indeed, it had. I could tell it’d been there for at least a year, but no more than five or so. It had silvered over, but not exactly faded.

“What if we were to cut it off?” asked Tiago.

“Perhaps flaying . . .” suggested Fuego in an attempt to intimidate Castguard.

“If we break the sigil,” began Rylan.

“We break the signal,” finished Thea.

Several party members glanced at Aurun.

“Do we practice on him?”

Rylan looked kindly at Feno. “My dear, we need you to check your back to see if there’s anything there. I know this may be hard, but it’s your body, and we want to respect your autonomy.”

Feno approached herself, shaking. Perhaps she was frightened of what she might find, or scared of Aurun himself. Whatever it was, it was understandable.

Thea – kind, mothering Thea – walked over to her and held her hand without saying a word.

Feno gently lifted her shirt. Her back was bare.

“Perhaps he didn’t have time . . .” Her question trailed off. “Will it hurt?”

“My dear, brave Feno,” Rylan replied, “We aren’t going to do anything until you’re back in your right body.”

Meanwhile, Carrion and Tiago came to a conclusion: the spell could be reversed, Carrion told us, but Tiago would have to cast the spell. It was a matter of ability, and Carrion’s wild magic was a little too unpredictable for what we needed.

“Shackle them together?” asked Jii.

“What if it becomes a hostage situation?” posited Fuego

“I can do it,” Feno stated steadfastly.

“No.” Tiago declared defiantly. “The nature of dimensional shackles would put her in unnecessary risk.”

“I could put Aurun to sleep,” offered Rylan.

“Would that work on elves?” asked Tiago.

At the same time, Hetzel spoke up. “There’s always a good old fashioned concussion,” she deadpanned.

“Are we discussing Aurun or Castguard?” asked Thea.

“We’re not touching Aurun with Feno in there!” we all shouted nearly at once.

Hetzel started cracking her knuckles while Rylan began heating his seal over a nearby candle, turning it slowly, methodically deliberate.

“Feno, dear,” said Rylan, his hands still turning the seal, “In my bag you’ll find some clean cloth and a bottle of clove oil. It’s clearly marked. You may need this for what comes next.”

Feno looked at the rest of us. “Does everyone need some?” she asked.

“No,” replied Rylan. “Please don’t take it personally. I know how everyone else here will react. I don’t know how you will react. You might be fine; you might not. I’d rather not take a chance.”

“Oh. Okay.” Feno poured some oil into a rag. “Why does this have to be so oily?” she muttered.

With everyone now suitable prepared, Rylan approach Castguard determinedly and pushed the red-hot seal into his flesh. Castguard screamed but remained awake.

“There, you fucking traitorous priest. You wanted to deal with my house? Now you’ll carry our mark on your body, you bastard motherfucker.”

I’d seen Rylan angry before, but this was a level of rage I hadn’t seen. The others didn’t seem phased, though, so maybe they knew something I didn’t.

“Maybe we should ask you mom . . .” Hetzel started to say, before being abruptly cut off by Rylan.

“No. she does not need to be involved in this.”

Tiago and Carrion, meanwhile, had Feno and Aurun hold hands, with Aurun-in-Feno still shackled. Their body language was not exactly hostile, but not indifferent. The definitely didn’t want to be near each other. Reversing the spell took time, with Tiago concentrating for about ten minutes.

Suddenly, both Aurun and Feno passed out, slumped over, and then quickly regained consciousness. Feno shook her head as she got up, groggy and stiff as if from a hangover. She looked around at us and the scene surrounding her.

“So none of this was a dream?” she asked sadly.

“Unfortunately, no.” Thea, Fuego, and myself sighed.

Jii rushed forward and put Aurun in a headlock. Aurun struggled for a bit before settling down, subdued.

“I’d really like to kick his ass, Tiago.” Rylan stated. “Now, for Castguard. Time for the telepathy, I think.” He looked at me.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “You know my telepathy skills aren’t the greatest. What if I could fix his tongue?”

“He’d just chew it off again,” replied Rylan.

“And besides,” said Fuego, “I can’t imagine growing a tongue would be pleasant, and we need him conscious.”

“I wasn’t going to grow it back; I was going to fix it. Of course, I’d need his tongue . . .”

“Oh, I’m certain that tongue’s long been claimed by my mother. Of course, you could always go and ask for it back . . .” Rylan seemed a bit perturbed I’d even suggested such a thing.

But still, she was right. “That’s not a conversation I want to have,” I admitted.

There was some short-lived talk about Matron Banrae collecting tongues and what she might do with them until we remembered that Ruinfea collected Chewie. We looked up at her in embarrassment.

Ruinfea, still a chameleon, was scurrying about Rylan’s head. She seemed excited about something.

“Come on down and change back,” Rylan cajoled, “I promise well get some rest soon.”

“Will we have time for a rest?” asked Carrion. “After all, we don’t know what . . .”

Rylan cut him off. “People are bleeding from their eyes and Jii got his ass handed to him by a swamp. We need a nap.”

Jii perked up at “nap”

Ruinfea changed back. “What if we try charm person?” She asked. “Get him to like us or something.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work on Aurun,” said Carrion. “Elves can’t be charmed.”

“But it could work on Castguard,” I pointed out.

“It might,” said Tiago, “but he’s a powerful caster himself.”

“We need something that neary guarantees results.” Rylan stated. “And that means either I brew something up, or . . .” He looked directly at Castguard.

“Either you talk,” he warned, “or I start chopping fingers.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I know we need information, but I don’t think we should just start mutilating him . . .”

“No one said we would start with mutilation,” Rylan clarified. “It’s more of a last resort.”

“Nearly any spell we cast will require him to pass a wisdom check,” remarked Tiago. “Even in his state, do we really thing he’d fail that? I, for one, favor chopping fingers.”

I’d lost the thread of the conversation. “Arun’s fingers?” I asked.

“No, Castguard’s.”

Rylan still wanted me to use telepathy, but I wasn’t confident enough to use it. So, he went to brewing up a potion. Completing it, he walked over to Castguard, opened his mouth, poured in the elixir, and then rubbed his throat like someone giving a dog medicine.

“There you go, get it all down,” he said.

Tiago, meanwhile, had moved closer to Feno. Is demeanor to Aurun was decidedly cool.

Hetzel walked over to them. “Should she be here?” she asked. “Maybe she should leave. After all, she’s been through so much today . . .”

Tiago paused for a moment as he looked over at Feno. “I will leave that decision up to Feno,” he said.

“You don’t have to be here,” Hetzel began.

“I just want to make sure he’s going to be all right after all this,” she replied, determined to stay. So it would be.

Rylan switched targets, administering the potion to Aurun in his turn.

After deciding that charm person, suggestion, and the like would have a larger degree of failure, and given the lack of tongue, it was decided to let Castgaurd write the answers to our questions. Thea gave him some parchment handed over by Fuego and a nub of charcoal from a nearby fireplace.

Immediately, he tried eating it to counteract the serum.

Rylan tried to smack it from his fingers, but inadvertently sent it down the back of his throat. He began choking violently.

Thea tried to force it out, but her efforts only resulted in a large bear hug.

Unnerved, Rylan punched him in the diaphragm. The charcoal flew across the room and shattered.

“And what have we learned?” Rylan asked Castguard sarcastically.

Thea dug in her bag and procured a tube of lipstick. She handed it to Castguard. “Here.”

“Get this wrong and you’ll be down to finger paints, like a petulant child,” Rylan warned.

“And if certain people get their way, you’ll be using the bloody nubs where your fingers used to be,” I added.

Rylan glanced sideways at me. “And then I’ll punt you all the way to the town square and right onto that statue,” he threatened.

Castguard looked up at us, helplessly resigned.

“Are there more of you douchebags?” (Hetzel)

Yes

“Names. I need names.” (Rylan)

Kaiser, Mace, Glave

[Kaiser. Shit.]

Where are they? (Tiago)

Time?

Just after eleven.

Castguard smiled a bloody grin.

Tree

Are you the missing dead guy? (Hetzel)

I didn’t see his answer.

Meanwhile, Jii had been relentlessly tapping Aurun with his tail.

“Talk and I’ll stop,” he said.

Rylan turned to Aurun now. “Tell us everything,” he said.

“I . . . I only know what Chalice knows.”

“Who’s Chalice?”

Aurun motioned with his chin towards Castguard.

Behind Aurun, Jii spoke in the voice of Lilith Stormosin: “Tell them all.”

“They . . . they wanted to raise the ancestors,” he spurted out.

Several of the party had already left the room for the tree, others followed close behind. I turned on Castguard.

“Did you save me or summon that thing?” I asked.

Castguard scowled at me as he pressed the lipstick hard into the parchment.

Chosen

And the lipstick broke.

Seeing his reaction, Hetzel lifted him up by the scruff.

“Bryn, you want a shot?”

“You know, I actually do . . .” I looked him up and down. “But he’s not worth it.” I turned and walked away as Tiago called for the guards.

“Take this traitor away,” he said. “And we have one more for the cells.” He motioned towards his son. The guards paused momentarily before lifting each of them and returning them to the jail far below us.

“Now, what do you need?” Tiago asked as we made out way out of the palace.

“Healing,” Fuego replied.

“Time,” said Ruinfea. “Time to rest or recover or do something without losing ground.”

“Unfortunately, I am not a chronomancer.” Tiago shook his head sadly.

“I could try,” Carrion offered.

“No,” replied Feugo, “but would you happen to have a healing potion on you?”

Carrion dug into his sack of chaos. “I’ve got this!”

He held out a large purple vial.

“But fair warning, I don’t know what it does.”

Fuego took the bottle and looked it over.

“Just give it to me,” said Rylan impatiently.

“Now, just hold on,” interrupted Fuego. “I wouldn’t drink that unless you wanted a random limb growing on you somewhere.”

Jii looked at the bottle long and hard before grabbing it for himself.

“Later.”

#### *Under the Spriggan Tree*

We made our way to the Spriggan Tree.

Something had already happened as we witnessed a large crowd clearing the area around the tree. Outside, the guards we saw earlier lay dead from some sudden physical attack. Near them, the clearly rotting corpses of undead gnomes stood menacingly.

I recognized them instantly.

“Wildwanderers” I said in a mix of shock and horror.

Scrawled onto the heavy doors were some unfamiliar symbols.

“The Cult of Orcus . . .” I heard Rylan mutter under his breath.

Rylan stared at the creatures for a moment. “Bodaks,” he said, putting on his sunglasses. And then, again, I saw Rylan do something new.

He cast dancing lights and blood maledict while pricking his finger on a bolt. He cast sunlight and shot his bolt, which leapt from his crossbow with a bolt flush with golden energy.

Rylan looked proud.

Jii threw one of his beholder daggers at the bodak nearsest him. It whirled through the air before embedding itself it its chest.

The one closest to Rylan tried to grapple him and failed, then tried a maneuver I learned later is called death gaze. This also failed.

Jii, mimicking the beholderkin, cried “Daddy!”

Hetzel, seeing the bodak attack Rylan, raged, hitting one of them twice with her axe but failing to actually fell him.

I called forth a spiritual weapon in the shape of the statue by which I was currently hiding.

A miss.

Thea tried to aid Hetzel with cutting words, but I don’t know how effective it was as Hetzel took some bludgeoning damage.

Another bodak attacked Rylan, but failed.

Rylan swore at it.

“Fuck you too,” I heard the bodak reply in gnomish.

Ruinfea cast daylight, and all the bodaks took radiant damage. She attempted to shoot her longbow, but the arrow flew off into the woods.

Fuego moved closer to the bodaks and cast sacred flame, causing one of the creatures to crumble and crispify.

Meanwhile, a bodak managed to gaze at Ruinfea.

“I can’t see!” I heard her call out in surprise.

Thea glared at the bodak closest to her. “Polymorph” I heard her say, and watched in surprise as the bodak transformed into an ant.

Thea trampled forward, trodding on the ant-bodak.

Hetzel fended of another attack.

Rylan disappeared, then reappeared behind the bodaks so he was out of their line of sight. Lifting his rapier and pistol, he shot one and stabbed the other, disappearing once more in the dark.

Jii lunged at the bodak nearest Hetzel but in his haste and exhaustion he missed, stabbing Hetzel in the shoulder. Turning, he ripped the previously thrown dagger our of the bodak’s chest, while simultaneously drawing Hetzel behind him with his free hand. She didn’t resist, but she was mad as hell.

The bodak, meanwhile, fell to the ground, dead.

A bodak tried to attack Rylan, but unable to see him, it missed.

“Pathetic,” Rylan scoffed.

Hetzel rushed back in, hitting the bodak closest to her.

I moved towards Rylan and tried to put myself in range of the two bodaks around here, but only managed one. I tried to call down word of radiance, but nothing. I swung my spiritual weapon. Nothing.

A struggling bodak tried to rally itself, but in its confusion did nothing.

Again, the bodak tried to attack Rylan.

Again, nothing.

I saw Ruinfea call glittering silver stars down from the heavens, but they too did nothing.

She charged in, blindly swinging a scimitar. (Had I not seen that before?)

Ruinfea couldn’t see where she was going, and I was too focused on my failures to keep an eye on her. She ran right into me, knocking me prone, while she stumbled a bit but caught her balance.

She turned as she stumbled and actually hit one of the bodaks, causing damage.

Even blind she was fighting better than I. What is wrong with me??

Fuego called on sacred flame as Thea swung her rapier.

“Bring it on, bitch,” she yelled.

The bodak grinned and dealt her a significant amount of bludgeoning damage.

Rylan had had enough. Squaring himself up, he stabbed and shot the two bodak’s eyes out.

“My friend told you to BRING IT ON!” he yelled. As he did so, he (along with Jii and those closer to the doors to the catacombs) that the front doors were slightly ajar. As we looked, they blew open with a blast of air.

Jii took a swing at the last bodak and disappeared behind the doors.

Hetzel hit the bastard and he began to fall apart. She swung again, but missed.

Frustrated, she growled and bared her teeth. I was given the impression this may have been her first language.

Once again, I swung my spiritual weapon. Once again, I missed.

Frustrated, negative thoughts began to cloud my brain:

I have literally been the most useless member of this party tonight. I haven’t actually hurt the party, but I haven’t done anything to help them, either. I could literally not be here and nothing would have changed.

Now, my friends would beg to differ – as they did later on – but in the moment, in the heat of things? That’s what I thought.

If I’m to be devoted to accuracy, I must be accurate about my own shortcomings, too.

Ruinfea finally ended things by disintegrating the last bodak with a guiding bolt.

The battle was over, but sleep would not come yet.

#### *The Order of Oghma*

We turned towards the door. From out the shadows came a familiar figure – sweating, limping, and overall not doing too well.

“Oh. It’s all of you. Hi,” said Tos Pums

We stared at him.

“What,” Rylan deadpanned, “is going on here?”

“Oh, well, you see, I was trying to stop an abyssal god.”

“And were you successful?”

“I think so . . .”

“Who was it?”

“Men in cloaks, using my bones to perform some profane resurrection of . . .”

wait just a second

“Your bones?!” several of us called out at once.

Then, it was pandemonium.

“But if they’re your bones than . . .”

“But wasn’t Castguard the one who . . .”

“You’re all corrupt, the whole lot of you . . .”

Rylan looked like he was about to punch Pums.

“What,” she asked, “does Bryn have to do with this?”

“Well, you see Brynwick isn’t really involved . . .”

“Yeah, we know. You made that clear when you were making fun of her in the graveyard,” said Hetzel.

“Making fun of? No. I was warning you. She’d lived here so long and I wasn’t sure how much she told you.” He turned to me. “Brynwick, have I ever mocked you?”

“N . . . No,” I replied. And it was true. Pums may have been much younger than me and given more responsibility, and sure the townsfolk generally like him, but he’d never actually been mean to me . . .

Rylan wasn’t done though.

“You lot refuse to acknowledge morality, let alone your own mortality. You just hop from one body to the next with absolutely no regard for what happens.”

“No regard? It’s precisely because we do regard such things that the Order does what it does. We’ve found a way to pass on our wisdom and, in due course, shape the society around us.”

Rylan broke him off. “This whole town is corrupt from top to bottom. It’s full of nothing but child stealers and body switchers. Every last one of you bears unspeakable shame . . .”

And here I must admit my own failings once more. This town may be awful, but it is my town. I’m from here. I know the people aren’t all bad. They can’t be, right? Perhaps I took things to close to heart.

“But I’m from here,” I protested, “so what does that make me?”

“Bryn,” he said, “Let me clarify: I didn’t mean you. You got out. You’re not like them. You’re one of the good ones”

One of the good ones. How is this not like the very thing we’re fighting against? If only I’d listened to him instead of simply hearing the words.

Rylan’s attention diverted, Jii asked Pums again: “What did Bryn do?”

Oh my friends, how I wish I could take back what came next.

“Bryn was marked by an elder god, and we didn’t know what that meant. It’s why Castguard kept her out of the order.”

“What order?”

“The Order of Oghma, of course. There’s very few of us that know the secrets, you see, and we have to be selective about . . .”

“Selective like Castguard?”

“Yes. Well. There is that. But you see, we became quite proficient at resurrection spells . . .”

“I see. “

I, meanwhile, was an emotional wreck. It seemed like I was abandoned. Everyone had used me. Castguard. Pums. Was Rylan using me? (Again, I’d heard, but hadn’t listened. Please, my friends. Forgive my error). Even Oghma seemed to abandon me, seemingly refusing to aid my magic against the undead.

Ruinfea knew I was upset about that last bit in particular. “It’s all right,” she said. “Sometimes it goes like that. The important thing is that you’re here.”

Well, I certainly didn’t feel important. It certainly felt like I was just another piece in everyone else’s game but my own.

I was wrong of course. Dreadfully wrong. But such is the nature of self-pity, self-doubt, and pride.

I was so caught up in myself that I didn’t pay attention to what was being said.

Me. The cleric committed to Oghma and bonded to accuracy. The one who called forth a miracle on General Lilith Stormosin to defend her friends. For a brief moment, I abandoned my bond. I abandoned my friends.

And it cost us.

I don’t know what was said. I do know Rylan asked Pums about who fought alongside him.

“A few of the guards,” he replied, sadly.

They discussed the Order and the corruption of Spriggan and the investigation that would be forthcoming.

But in my wallowing arrogance I allowed myself to be distracted. And I distracted others.

Ruinfea and Fuego came to talk to me, and while I appreciated their gestures, I know now it would’ve been better if they hadn’t.

Because now almost nobody was listening to Rylan. He and Pums were discussing matters much more important than my feelings, but we didn’t listen.

He noticed.

We fought.

The party fought.

Because of me.

Because I hadn’t actually listened to Rylan. Or I would have heard that his first question was about what they did to me. I’d have heard that as he was protesting the corruption, he was protesting the system that had hurt me. When he spat out his judgment against child-napping and body swapping, he was arguing against the practices that had kept me from a normal life.

He was defending me and I didn’t hear it. All I heard was the insults against Spriggan. And honestly, what motive should I have to defend it?

But I made the selfish choice, and here we were, shouting at each other in front of the Spriggan Tree moments after we defeated resurrected ancestors and found out that, once again, things weren’t as they originally seemed.

Our tempers began to cool.

“Bryn,” he said, “I explicitly left you out of that. You aren’t this place. Do you really think so little of me?”

And now I could hardly bear it any longer. I’d hurt my friends – all of them. I’d wasted valuable time and energy and effort because I decided this would be a good time to have a supremely misguided sense of bullshit civic pride and godsdamned personal affrontery.

“You’re right,” I managed to get out. “You’re right, and I was wrong.”

We continued our conversation as we began heading back to the palace.

“Bryn,” he said, “surely you understand what I meant. You are not these people. You may be touched by an abyssal god, but that’s not what they fear about you. You, my friend, have a soul – and more than that, you have a conscience.”

#### *An Audience with Matron Baenre*

Haltingly, we patched things up before entering the palace for a much-needed long rest. We bathed and rested in our own ways – I took the time to pray and write – and we all woke up refreshed. As we prepared to continue our investigation, there came a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Ruinfea called out.

“I swear, if you’re undead . . .” Rylan threatened.

“Come back later!” Hetzel shouted.

Carrion opened the door on a very flustered gnome courier, who handed him a letter and then very awkwardly excused himself.

“Huh. He moved fast.” Hetzel observed.

“The skitter of a courtier, if ever I saw one . . .” Rylan’s voice trailed off. “What’s it say, Carrion?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, “I’m not exactly knowledgeable in High Drow, and . . .”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” Rylan interrupted, snatching the letter from Carrion and scanning the contents. “It’s a request to gather in the throne room, where she’s temporarily holding court.”

We look at each other. A change of clothes was in order for some of us, and Ruinfea began brushing her hair, which had turned to autumn colors.

“But what about War Pig?” Hetzel asked. “Isn’t it time to get him? I’m sure Rylan’s mom will understand this is urgent.”

“Wait!” I called after her as she made for the door, “I know you made a deal with the armorer, but maybe give her a tip?”

“Good idea,” Thea agreed, “after all, she did give us a good deal, and who knows what War Pig has done to her shop in the meantime . . .”

“Ten gold should do it, I’d think,” Fuego commented, and Ruinfea handed him the amount from the bag.

As we got ready, Hetzel made her way to Thistle the armorers, where she found War Pig clad in the finest armor many of us had ever seen and munching happily on some assorted mushrooms. Even his horns were tipped in metal.

“I was going to make a few strategic dings in his armor,” Thistle said, “but somehow I imagine he’s going to enjoy putting his own dents in my work – and I don’t mind, that what this stuff is for anyway.”

Hetzel looked at War Pig in admiration. “Look at you in your fancy armor. You look like you’re too cool to hang out with me now. Ha! As if I’d let that happen. Were you good for Ms Thistle? Who’s the good boy? You are!”

And then turning to Thistle, she said “This is great. I know we paid up before, but we thought it over and we’d like you to have this.” She held out the gold.

“Oh but I couldn’t possibly . . .”

“Then consider it payment for boarding War Pig,” Hetzel cajoled.

“Oh, all right. That I can accept. I bought a big bag of mushrooms earlier; there’s some left you can take with you.”

“And if you won’t accept gold, take my advice: if you run into zombies, kill ‘em.”

“Wiser words I have not heard in an age,” Thistle replied diplomatically.

Thistle then showed Hetzel how to properly suit War Pig and adjust his saddle. Waving goodbye to Thistle, Hetzel took War Pig in search of a bathroom, eventually settling on a seemingly underused palace garden. War Pig did his business and then began to root and dig about, dirtying himself and his armor in the process.

Meanwhile, we’d begun to remark on Hetzel’s lateness. There was no telling what she might have gotten up to in the market. We were just about to go out looking for her when she burst in the door crying, “Look how good War Pig looks!”

“Thank goodness,” said Rylan. “We thought you’d stopped to put him in a floppy hat.”

“A floppy hat?” Hetzel asked, somewhat offended. “A floppy hat for such a paladin-looking pig? I wonder if pigs have gods . . .”

War Pig gave no answer besides a soft snorfle.

“Perhaps I could craft a magical item that would allow him to speak, or at least for us to understand him,” Carrion said half aloud.

Of course Hetzel hear him and grinned ecstatically, shouldering Carrion and dealing a small amount of what they decided to call “love damage.”

I’d still take love damage from Hetzel, for what it’s worth.

Now suitably attired, we went down to the throne room. Angelspeck had gone and Matron Baenrae was seated in the smaller throne she’d occupied previously. Now, though, she wore an outfit of purples and blacks that waterfalled around her. She was obviously mimicking Rylan’s color choices.

We were announced by a local man, and Matron Baenrae bid us line up at the foot of the dais. As we dutifully obeyed, she stood and stepped down to the lowest step. She still towered above us as she began pacing, looking out and over us as she spoke.

“I would ask that you all kneel.”

We looked to Rylan, who’d gone down on one knee like a lead weight had dragged him down. We followed suit.

“News of all you’ve done has reached my ears in greater detail that what was previously divulged. I have learned much of the truth of this group and what you’ve done, and it is apparent I must take direct action.” Speaking directly to Rylan now, she finished: “Don’t you agree?”

“I . . . I. . . sure.” Rylan sputtered.

“Glad to hear it. Lower your heads for me.”

Again we glanced at Rylan. Lowering our heads would also be exposing our necks. But Rylan was already staring at the floor, so we did likewise.

“I have no choice but to anoint you all lords and ladies of Mezoberazean.”

“Man oh man,” Hetzel blurted out, “Mama’s gonna have fun with this!”

The rest of us looked at Matron Baenrae with no words, only fallen jaws.

She continued speaking to Rylan, “They are your family and worthy of the title.” Then turning to us, “Your title also comes with a small amount of land and freedom of movement within my domain.”

Ruinfea look over at Rylan. “That means we can visit you. You won’t have to be alone . . .”

Matron Baenrae continued. “Now, extend your hands.”

Looking at Rylan, we saw him extend his hand palm-up; we copied him. Into each of our outstretched palms she dropped a small silver ring bearing the lesser sigil of House Baenrae. Arriving last at Rylan, she took him by the hand and indicated he should stand.

“Does this please you?” she asked.

“Y . . . Yes, thank you.”

“Then you are dismissed.”

“We’re going to question Pums now,” Rylan informed his mother.

We left the throne room murmuring out thanks; Ruinfea attempted a curtsy.

“Hey Rylan, can you help me write a letter?” Hetzel asked.

“I know where this is going,” Rylan answered. “You want one for your cousins, too?”

“I have a lot of cousins,” Hetzel replied. “One letter to my mom and the talk’ll be all over by lunchtime.”

“Then I’ll let her have that glory.”

Addressing all of us, he continued, “You don’t know just how shocking this is. Fuego, Jii - You’re the first male lords of House Baenrae in an age and all of you are the only non-Drow nobility I’ve ever heard of. This is something entirely new.”

We stared at him as the full weight of what just happened sunk in. Jii didn’t look to happy, but Ruinfea had a different expression entirely.

“You mean I’m a lady again?”

AGAIN?

“I don’t want to go into it right now, but I used to be a lady. But then I had my own thoughts and opinions about my people’s system and . . . . and they cast me out.”

Rylan chuckled. “I’m pretty sure what my mom just did means you outrank the lot of them.” Continuing to shake his head, he sat down to dictate Hetzel’s letter.

Carrion, meanwhile, began gently crying. “I . . . I have a name.”

We stared at our friend. Somehow we’d forgotten that he had been an outcast with no family.

Ruinfea walked over to him and put her arm around him. They began to talk of names and how to use them. “This is nice,” he said, smiling.

Another knock on the door, and another courier told us Pums was ready. “Shall I have him brought here, or . . .”

“Bring him here,” declared Rylan.

#### *A Conspiracy Unmasked*

Some time later, Pums was brought in. His walk was proud, his countenance unabashed, and he wore his robes of rank. For him, this appeared business as usual.

Hetzel stared at him as if she were ready to rage.

“We’ve got some questions,” Rylan began.

“Ask”

“How many died last night?”

“Civilians or guards? I’m not certain. I’m not the one such things would be told to, after all.”

“Oh. I see. You’re trying to pass the blame. Very well then, we’ll go to someone you might have a bit more respect for.”

Calling a guard, he said “We’re going to need to question this man in the presence of the king.”

We went back to the throne room, where Matron Baenrae still sat on the smaller throne while Angelspeck now occupied the seat of authority.

Rylan caught him up to speed and then repeated his question.

“As I told you, I . . .”

Rylan cut him off. “How many books were in peril?”

“All of them”

“And how many guards were sent to protect them.”

“A legion – about one hundred fifty or so.”

“Do you mean to tell me that a legion of guards was sent to protect some objects, while only a handful of guards were sent to protect the town?” Turning to Angelspeck he asked “Your grace, have you been told of last night’s casualties?”

“Twenty five fatalities and some injuries, some of those quite serious . . .”

Rylan turned back to Pums. “You cared more about things than people. Things that could be replaced. How many clerics do you have here? Do you mean to tell me they haven’t studied and copied these books enough times that the majority might be replaced? The people of Spriggan, though, they were expendable. This was the choice you made.”

“And while you did that,” Fuego interrupted, “we helped others. We fought the things you refused to.”

“From my perspective, some of our party exhausted themselves to save you, and some nearly died,” Carrion offered.

“And you sent out four guards to help the down,” Rylan spat accusingly.

“Parts of the library had already been set aflame, and it threatened to spread to the temple. That would have been irreplaceable,” Pums tried to reason, but Thea cut him off.

“There are people dead today whose lives are irreplaceable,” she said flatly.

“Tell me, which book was irreplaceable? Let me guess: it was the one about orcish sex magic.”

That seemed to take Pums back a step, but he soon continued arguing.

“You forget: I fought as well. I defeated those in the catacombs . . .”

Turning to Agelspeck, Rylan pled “You grace, this man is responsible for every death at the hands of those creatures. He may not have murdered them, but he was at least negligent.”

Angelspeck directed his words toward Pums. “Citizens are dead because the guards listened to your order? The city watch did this? Why did they do this? Clerics and paladins I might understand, but the watch . . .”

“The watch made their choice. I wish I could say why,” Pums tried evading the question.

“Oh you can’t say why?” Rylan asked sarcastically. “Let me guess: you told them that kings are easily replaced but the clerics are around for decades, so it might be in their best interest if they listened to what you had to say. And one more thing, last night you told us the person that did this had been dealt with, but just now you said it was more than one. So: which is it?”

“Is this true?” asked Angelspeck, “who did you fight?”

“Remember, you said you were there on the front lines,” Rylan taunted.

“It was a secret order intending to summon Orchis,” Pums finally begrudgingly admitted.

This certainly appeared to be the truth. Well, it was a truth at any rate. It was certainly the truth as Pums saw it.

Thea and Feugo called him out.

“Give it up or I’ll punch it out,” Hetzel threatened.

“We’re not there quite yet . . .” Thea said calmingly.

“So again, was it a person, or a cabal?” Rylan asked pointedly. Angelspeck leaned forward.

“I hope that I have to reason to retaliate . . .” he said.

“There were three men,” Pums replied.

“They’d have to be pretty deep in the order,” Rylan observed. “Your grace, Pums is deliberately being evasive.”

“They’re dead. Not all members are capable of resurrection.”

“Anyone else?” Angelspeck asked.

“There was one survivor.”

Rylan cut him off. “Mother, a question. Doesn’t this remind you of House Do’Urden?”

Matron Baenrae’s face fell slightly. “Your grace, might I regale you with a short story: a tale of unrest and civil war, and a house that placed their own dogma over the common good.”

She told the tale of House Do’Urden: its rise and fall and the destruction it brought to Rylan’s home.

Now Angelspeck began to show true ability.

“If you’re not in charge here,” he asked Pums, “then who is?”

There was a pause.

“Don’t you dare chew off your tongue” warned Thea. “We’ve seen that trick before.”

“Yeah, and this time Ruinfea’ll probably collect it to go along with her eyeball Chewie” Hetzel observed.

Matron Baenrae looked at Ruinfea with a mix of surprise and admiration. “My dear,” she said “ you and I must talk some time.”

Suitable intimidated, Pums finally gave us a name. “Rubble Frostbrink.”

“Where is he?” asked Ruinfea.

“The temple.”

“Send a courier for him,” suggested Thea and Hetzel nearly at the same time.

“Yes, summon him immediately,” Angelspeck commanded.

Frostbrink came in wearing robes similar to those worn by Pums, and with a similarly arrogant air of importance. He didn’t even look at us, which was to be expected – he’d been summoned by the king after all – but the sight of Matron Baenrae gave him pause.

“Do you speak for your order?” Angelspeck asked.

“I do your grace, and as it happens there’s a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

Angelspeck cocked his head.

“I request the return of the holy mark of Oghma. It means much to our order, and we need it for the proper ordering of our adherents.”

“It’s evidence!” Rylan shouted.

“It’s a holy relic!” Frostbrink responded.

“Oh, so your order takes precedence over the Empire?” Rylan asked accusingly.

“But order,” began Pums

“It’s just a necklace! What does it give you that your authority doesn’t?”

And thus began a fight between Rylan and Pums over the nature of power and the right to rule, while Frostbrink stood by, staring.

Angelspeck, meanwhile, continued to grow into his kingship.

“Who,” he demanded, “are the members of this order you describe?”

He grew furious as Frostbrink described what amounted to a secret police of the Order of Oghma, who acted as judge, jury, and – in the case of the Orcis-worshippers – executioners.

To say Angelspeck was furious would be an understatement.

“But the city watch was there!” protested Frostbrink.

“Are you not then claiming the authority of the king?” asked Fuego.

“But that’s the way it’s been for decades!” shouted Frostbrink.

Anglespeck stared at Frostbrink.

“Are you then personally responsible for the actions taken last night by those under your authority?” he asked.

“Yes.” Frostbrink readily admitted.

“Then you are under arrest.”

“What!?”

“Perhaps the lack of a necklace means he can’t hear you,” offered Rylan.

For a moment it looked like Frostbrink would attempt to cast a spell, but instead he put his hands down in defeat as the guards shackled him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said threateningly.

“What of the city watch?” Rylan pressed.

“Yes, who gave that order?” Angelspeck questioned.

“Well, I didn’t lead them directly,” Pums offered, “but I did give some. So I suppose you’ll have to arrest me as well.”

He might have meant it as a challenge to Angelspeck, but Angelspeck was coming into his own.

“Then arrest him,” he said simply.

Rylan then turned to me. “We’ve just arrested two high-ranked members of your Order. Will they listen to you? We can’t have an uprising.”

Before I could answer, Ruinfea gave a shout. Through the door, she saw that one of the guards that had been in the throne room had been replaced and was now walking purposefully out of the palace.

Rylan looked at his mother. “Prepare yourself,” he said.

Matron Baenrae gave Angelspeck a small smile. “Fear not, your grace. You may yet be assassinated before the day is out.”

Now astride War Pig, Hetzel gave chase, while Rylan quickly knocked out the guard’s companion-in-duty with chloroform. Another guard saw and began to draw his sword.

“I’m doing this for the king, you can come with me right now and talk to him,” Rylan tried to assure him as he dragged the unconscious guard back into the room.

The guard followed with an awkward shuffle.

Meanwhile, Hetzel and War Pig quickly overtook the fleeing guard. War Pig attempted to gore him, and while Hetzel didn’t discourage it, neither did she encourage it, instead launching herself off War Pig in an attempt to take down the guard. She missed, but still landed upright on her feet.

War Pig, however, succeeded in knocking the guard down prone.

Rushing over to avoid an unnecessary death, Hetzel picked the guard up, threw him over her shoulder, and began carrying him back to the palace while whistling a tune. She patted War Pig, who began to trot along beside her while the guard began shouting for help.

The townspeople were too astounded to do anything as Hetzel smiled and waved at them. She re-entered the throne room and set the guard down.

“We got him,” she said, smiling at War Pig.

“I must admit I don’t understand,” Angelspeck began, looking at the one guard gored and the other drugged.”

“Your majesty, this one was sneaking off sneakily,” Ruinfea began.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” the guard protested, “It was a changing of the guard!”

Fuego looked the guard over carefully, “That may, in fact, be true,” he reasoned, “but I suspect you have another motive, too. Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well, I needed to go to the temple,” the guard explained.

“Because . . .” prompted Rylan.

“Because I’ve got missing family from last night. I thought maybe they’d be there . . .”

“Hmm. Be honest now.”

“Well, I don’t have missing family, but lots of folks aren’t accounted for. We’d always been told to let the priests know if something happened.”

“Tell who?” I asked, “You saw these two (I motioned to Pums and Frostbrink) are right here.”

“I don’t know,” the guard admitted, “ but I know they’d want to know.”

Rylan looked at me. “What was it you said? The king changes, but the high priest stays the same? My guess is it’s the same here. The king changes, but the guard doesn’t. In fact, I’d hazard a guess that guarding runs in families here in Spriggan . . .”

Frostbrink decided now was a good time to speak up.

“The kings rule for decades, but the order is responsible for the long-term . . .”

“All you do is preserve the status quo” retorted Rylan.

“And what is that status quo?” Frostbrink asked rhetorically. “It means the people are happy.”

“Happy? Hardly. I suppose here it’s a privilege not to bleed and die.”

I had stared at both Pums and Frostbrink through this exchange. “I can’t judge your motives,” I began, and they looked at me hopefully. “But the fact remains that you have deceived the people of this town. You, professed clerics of Oghma. If I were you, I’d fear being found faithless.”

Rylan stared at me, “Bryn, you’re a fucking genius. That’s just it: they’ve found a way to cheat the system. They think they’ll never face judgment. It’s like I said earlier: It’s no wonder you don’t fit in: you actually have a soul.”

With these words Rylan cast blood maledict on Frostbrink. “There, now any actions he takes will be punished by divine magic.”

Pums glared at Rylan. “This is blasphemy,” he shouted.

I cast thaumaturgy to make my voice louder. “I would not speak of blasphemy if I were you,” I responded, perhaps a bit more threateningly than I intended. Nevertheless, the point got across.

Now Frostbrink appealed to Angelspeck. “There will be war if you grow a spine now. There’s still time to walk this back and silence these . . . heroes.” He spat out the last work as one would a piece of rotten gristle.

“Just so I’m clear on this,” Rylan said, “you are, in your official capacity, threatening an ally of House Menzoberranzan?

“You want me to punch him?” Hetzel asked.

“You’re a free woman, Hetzel.” Rylan replied.

“Then it would be the first blow thrown in a civil war,” Pums warned.

“No,” Fuego declared, “your order was responsible.”

“That, and overstepping your authority at the very least,” Rylan finished. “You know what? I wonder if you have a brand on you.”

“Brand?” Pums aksed.

“Yes, brand. You know: The Hollow Company.”

At this Pums began to grow somewhat mad. “I know nothing of this company, but I do know that the people will betray him (he motioned to Angelspeck). He will go down in history as the king that ended the peace and safety of Spriggan and instead brought death and destruction and utter ruin.”

Rylan turned to the guard. “If I can get information, will you trust me?”

“I would regard anyone who could do such a thing . . .”

“The Order simply will not stand for this,” Pums continued

“Then maybe they’ll sit for it,” Ruinfea offered.

“At the very least, we know they’ve no business with that necklace,” Fuego pointed out.

“Hey Carrion, can you do magic nerd stuff and see if that necklace is anything special?”

“Go get Tiago, too. The two of you work well together,” said Rylan.

Tiago came. It was obvious he was unsettled: his head was high but his heart was low.

We informed him of what was going on.

“What might the actions of the Empire be in such a case?” asked Angelspeck.

“That depends,” began Tiago

“You mean it depends on who’s winning,” sneered Frostbrink.

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shut you up myself.” Rylan glared. “Look at you – you want to be a martyr, but you’re like a child with a toy. No, you’re like a dog with a chew toy. Here (he drew out a leather strap from his bag), go ahead and chew on this.”

“Everything you say is ammunition against you.” And with that, Frostbrink went silent.

“If we’re under arrest, will you be taking us to the garrison?” Pums inquired.

“Yes, to the garrison with them. And track down this holy relic of Oghma,” Angelspeck declared.

Ruinfea pulled it out of her bag and handed it to Rylan.

Carrion and Tiago looked it over.

“It’s magical, I can tell you that much,” Tiago said. “My guess is that the soul in Castguard will be passed on to someone else. Restraint saved further steps from being taken in this diabolical scheme.”

“The murder those men committed,” Rylan asked, “could it be used to power this thing?”

“Perhaps. There are many ritual . . . necromancy and life-based spells . . .” his voice trailed off.

As Carrion and Tiago began to talk about Necromancy, Rylan stared at the necklace.

“If it’s necromancy,” he muttered, “maybe . . . I can track it.”

Hearing this, Matron Baenrae glared at him.

“I can’t help it mother, something unexpected happened in my sleep. I know that sounds weird, even for us, but that’s the truth.”

Now reluctant to use his seemingly newfound powers, the rest of us tried to find a way to trace those that had used the necklace, but to no avail.

Giving in, Rylan began to track what he described as “tendrils of necromancy.” A guard came with us.

Two tendrils led to the garrison, which we entered after the expected formalities. We were taken to the basement, where one tendril stopped at Pums cell while the other went on. The trail then divided, with one tendril pointing accusingly at Frostbrink, while the other came to an end at an iron door with copper inlays.

“Who’s in the cell?” Jii asked

“Castugard,” the guard replied.

“Smart,” said Rylan.

“Let’s get the people who aren’t in prison,” suggested Thea. “Meanwhile, you should put the other two behind doors like this as well.”

“Are they powerful? Dangerous?” the guard asked.

“Necromancers,” Rylan deadpanned.

We walked toward the Spriggan Tree. Last night, the townspeople had been driven from their stores and homes by a raising of the ancestors. Today, they were drawn away by a speaker. They stood close to the Tree, a gathering of people around the statue.

Her voice amplified, she spoke to the crowd. “The Order of Oghma offered guidance to the people of this town and their king. And in response, the king has decided to arrest the respected . . .”

“Ladies and gents, our third necromancer,” Rylan told us.

A few townsfolk close to us turned, but out of annoyance, not recognition.

“What proof do you have?” the guard asked.

“I don’t know,” Rylan told him. “But that is the necromancer. May Loth find me if I’m wrong.”

“But, she’s the matron of the Order of Oghma! Arresting her would mean chaos.”

“If you won’t, I will.”

Fuego and Ruinfea examined the mark on Rylan’s hand, where he’d cut himself to inflict the blood maledict on Frostbrink.

They agreed that it was divine magic, but Ruinfea proved the better at arcana in this instance.

“Well, this looks like a five-fingered gauntlet,” she told Rylan. “but I don’t know how you’re going to take this. The magic is divine magic mixed with your own blood. And you remember Tiago’s wife – and who she claimed she was serving? It’s his mark. It’s Torm.”

“The fuck?!” exclaimed Rylan. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

Rylan turned to me. “You’re known here. This is something you need to do. I can’t.”

“But I’m never any good with words,” I began.

“Bryn,” Thea interrupted me, “you always come up with the right words when it counts.”

I cast thaumaturgy again to boost my voice.

“By the blessings of Oghma and Torm,” I began. And whether it was because she knew me or was surprised to hear someone else shouting, the matron of the order of Oghma let me speak.

“By the blessings of Oghma and Torm, we take Lisbelle Wynback under arrest on charges of necromancy and heresy.”

Offering a quick prayer to Torm, Rylan stepped forward with his rapier drawn. He looked at me. “Now I get why you guys do this,” he said admiringly.

“On what grounds,” Wynback protested.

“On grounds that I am a bloodhunter and you reek of necromancy,” Rylan countered.

“You ask for evidence?” I asked. “Then let us hear the evidence of your own voice. I will cast Zone of Truth right here, in front of these good people, and we will hear what you have to say.”

I cast.

“I have got to get better at this,” I muttered under my breath.

“Go ahead. Ask your questions.” She seemed confident.

By this point, I knew one question that might turn the crowd against her. A cleric of Oghma –the matron, no less – refusing to willingly enter a Zone of Truth?

“Why did you resist?” I asked.

She began to react.

We faced her down.

Rylan, Ruinfea, and myself stood closest. Every one of us had a fire spell or minor illusion. The Third Family was bringing the fire.

In fear she dropped to her knees and tore open her shirt, revealing a chest marked, scarred, and torn by fire and blade.

“Blessed Orcis,” she shouted, “protect me!”

Her body became engulfed in flames – not from us, mind you – and her skin began to ripple and burn.

Ruinfea and I cast water spells and put the fire out while the ground began to rumble.

Rylan shouted at the townspeople. “Get to the palace now and tell my mother to protect you!” he shouted.

The great statue began to ripple and move and chip. Inside, a bulky orange and red and brown winged demon emerged, bursting into the sky.

The grand avatar of Orcis looked down at the charred, splayed body of his devotee. Growling and glowering,

“Who here speaks for Spriggan?” he demanded.

I was about to reply why Rylan spoke up.

“If you want Spriggan, you go through us first!

“Then perish”

#### *Orcis*

I don’t blame Rylan for what happened next, although I’m certain he blames himself. I think we all blame ourselves in our own ways, but the more I think about it I don’t see how this could have gone any different. There is no reasoning with an abyssal god, and as it turns out there’s no bluffing either.

Rylan used his newfound bloodhunter magic to disadvantage Orcis and attempted to protect us.

“Wait!” he cried. “Before you smite us, you should at least know who you’re dealing with. We are blood of the gods. I am the Child of Loth and the Chosen of Torm. He (motioning to Jii) is Descendant of the Traveler. She (pointing to me) is the Voice of Oghma. He (indicating Fuego) is of Garyx the Firelord. She (meaning Thea) is Milil – the One Who Watches While Music is Alive. He (motioning to Carrion) is a god of wild magic and chaos. She (gesturing toward Ruinfea) is Leira, goddess of Illusion. And she (nodding to Hetzel) is the God of Kicking Your Ass.

Orcis looked at us, lowering his head and leaning down to stare us each in the eye. “Blood of the gods?” he mused, “then I relish this challenge.” He smirked through ruinous teeth and laughed. “Don’t hold back.

The fight with Orcis lasted both moments and an eternity.

Jii lashed out, slashing Orcis across the face and immediately attempting to hide.

But there is no hiding from a god, at least not easily.

Orcis smiled his rotten smile. “My turn,” he gloated, and cracked Jii on the side with his wand. At the same time, he swept his tail around, catching Ruinfea with his spiked, poisoned tail.

She immediately cast mirror image in an attempt to confuse him, while Fuego attempted a hellish rebuke and Rylan tried to stab him. They dealt minor damage.

I tried throwing my javelin, but as I’d never actually used it before, let alone in combat, it flew wide and clattered on the ground behind him.

Hetzel raged, dealing a bit more damage than the others had, while Thea cast vicious mockery, laughing a hideous laugh while waving a feather in the air and throwing tiny tarts straight at his face.

Pure, brave Thea gave us an opening. Orcis doubled over in laughter at the sight of her and was stricken prone.

Taking advantage of the situation, Carrion raised a finger and drew what looked like a rhubarb leaf out of his pack. He waved it in the air as if shooting a bow and a green, dripping arrow appeared in the air and hit Orcis cleanly.

Still, Orcis continued to laugh.

Jii launched a sneak attack and again attempted to hide.

That caught Orcis’ attention again. Infuriated, he glowered at us, beat his wand on the stand formerly occupied by the statue, and flew forty feet into the air.

Jii threw a dagger, which embedded in his chest.

Hetzel threw her javelin but, like me, she missed at the weapon flew wide.

Rylan shot him straight in the eye. “Don’t say I don’t warn you,” he shouted.

By now, Orcis was super pissed and growled at Rylan.

Pulling out her Ring of Ram, Ruinfea – and her mirror images – attempted to shoot him down with her longbow, to no avail. She tossed the ring to Hetzel, who caught it easily.

Fuego used the scroll Jii gave him, Force Wall, to create a dome over Orcis and slam him back to earth and encasing him in some kind of barrier.

Rylan cast darkness on him, crying out “Suck darkness, bitch!”

I used a new spell I’d discovered in the library, Weight of 1,000 Years to inflict a small amount of psychic damage, and immediately after cast a healing spell on Ruinfea.

Hetzel tried to hit him with her axe, but it was stopped by Fuego’s barrier. But the force from the Ring of Ram hit him twice, which came as a surprise to both him and Hetzel.

Orcris was not beyond pissed, and he raised his wand, which now glowed with the dark, necrotic energy of death.

He swung it round, ending all active spells and inflicting damage on all of us.

I saw Ruinfea and Jii go down prone; they looked to me as if they were dead.

Fuego responded with another hellish rebuke while Rylan seized his chance and shot his crossbow at Orcis’ eye, hitting it but not blinding him.

Hetzel and Carrion both tried attacking, but dealt only small amounts of damage.

Thea rushed over to Jii and cast cure wounds. For a moment it looked like the came back, but then he fell once more.

Carrion tried another acid arrow, but this one missed.

I saw Jii try once more to get up before falling still.

Orcis’ rage now focused on Rylan, who stepped out of the wand’s way.

Looking over, I saw Ruinfea struggling to breathe. This was an improvement over a moment ago.

Fuego cast a spell of radiant damage while Rylan ran to Ruinfea’s side, uncorking a bottle and slicing his hand as he did so. Rylan’s blood appeared to activate something in the bottle, and as he poured the potion in her mouth, Ruinfea seemed to stabilize.

I tried and failed to cast sacred flame. Frustrated, screamed out a mass healing word in an attempt to help my friends. I don’t know how much help it did.

Hetzel swung twice at Orcis but he easily dodged them. She took advantage of his sidestepping to catch her own breath.

Orcis now turned his attention to other targets, focusing now on Fuego. I saw Fuego shudder and stand still. He looked half-touched by death.

Carrion threw a magic missile at Orcis, dealing some damage, but not nearly enough.

Thea again tried cure wounds on Jii, but while Jii struggled to open his eyes, I saw him twitch once and then . . .

I felt the breath leave his body.

Rylan’s scream pierced the air.

It’s okay, I thought to myself. I healed that guard before. All I’ve got to do is get over there and attempt revivify. Then we’ve got to protect him until we bring this bastard down.

It was not to be.

Orics also felt Jii’s death. “Which one was he,” he asked mockingly, “the son of the Traveler?” He reached out a hand and pointed a finger at Jii’s lifeless body. “He’s mine now.”

Jii stood up, and while he mostly looked the same, his eyes were wrong. What were once a vibrant green were now the color of a sour apple dipped in milk.

Ruinfea regained consciousness. I learned later the first thing she saw was Jii’s soulless eyes.

Fuego, too, lost control. I watched as he cast shatter at a level I knew was far beyond his ability. It brought destruction down on both of them.

Orcis was visibly hurt, but Fuego was now lying still on the ground.

Over by Ruinfea, Rylan pulled the halberd from her bag and tossed it to Hetzel. In one fluid motion he then plunged his rapier high into Orcis’ side and rode it down, leaning heavily into the blow.

I couldn’t bring myself to fight my friend. I tried to turn him by channeling my divinity, but he looked on, steadfast. I drew a spiritual weapon. In my grief and anger, it was formless.

Hetzel screamed a scream I have never heard the likes of before. Her rage and anguish and grief combined to form the scream of a bear as she swung the halberd down again.

Hetzel split Orcis’ head like a cantaloupe, and she proceeded to beat and batter him until he became, as she said later on, god-mush. His blood burst into flame where it landed at the base of the Spriggan Tree.

Hetzel Godsbane, indeed.

Thea, who had been trying to help Jii, was now forced to face him. She may be the wisest of us all, when it comes down to it. I’m certain by know several of us had realized there was no bringing Jii back, not after Orcis had raised him. We could kill and bring him back as an undead, or we could kill him and try to find someone to reincarnate him, but none of these would actually bring Jii back to us. At least, not in a way that he would want to come back.

Jii was Jii in his totality.

Thea, in her wisdom, saw this. She drew her rapier and aimed for his neck.

She hit, but with a glancing blow.

When Orcis brought Jii back, he brought him back to the full extent of his health and abilities.

Our most cunning fighter and our best friend was now our deadliest enemy, and it was nearly certain he would kill us all. The only one who stood a fighting chance would be Rylan.

Carrion yelled, letting out a blast of concussive magic.

Jii attacked Thea, and immediately disappeared.

Of course.

The tried to react, but the strain of needing to fight Jii must have been to much.

Riunfea, meanwhile, began transforming into a monstrous snake. I’m sure Jii would’ve approved.

On the ground, Feugo struggled to breathe.

Rylan ignited the ink that still stained Jii’s feet in an attempt to draw him out of hiding. Succeeding, he then targeted him with his crossbow, but Jii saw him aiming. The bolt hit true, but Rylan’s second attack with the rapier missed the mark.

Rylan now tried to hide.

With Jii out in the open, Ruinfea used her snake form to constrict Jii, effectively grappling him. She turned her head a bit him, knowing that our only chance to survive was to keep hold of him.

Now confronted with the reality of the situation, I tried sending a guiding bolt towards Jii, but it fizzled out. I swung my spiritual weapon, but perhaps the formlessness of it caused me to miss.

I didn’t want to kill Jii, but I knew there was no hope for him either. Is it wrong of me to be glad my blows missed?

Looking over Ruinfea, Hetzel saw the fire spreading on the Spriggan Tree. She called out to Carrion to get out of here and to evacuate the tree. As he ran off, she swung, dealing more damage to Jii. She tried a skill I’d never seen her use before, holy fire, in an attempt to burn the corrupt spirit out. It didn’t work.

Thea now rushed over to help Fuego as Jii tried to break the grapple Ruinfea held on him, but only succeeded in moving both of them a few feet.

Ruinfea now cast create water on the Spriggan Tree and turned to make an unarmed attack on Jii. Somewhat ironic, given her form. It’d be funny it if weren’t so tragic.

Thea must have helped Fuego as I saw him regain consciousness just in time to see Rylan end things.

He stepped out of the darkness that had previously covered Jii. For the second time in his life, and again for Jii, he prayed. “Torm, please give him back to the Traveler.” As he said this, he drew his crossbow and shot our friend in the head. He was undead, after all.

The ugly green in his eyes faded, and for a moment they were clear and vibrant again.

He looked at us – but mainly Rylan.

“Thank you . . .”

And then he was gone.

Hetzel wasn’t done with Orcis.

“You said he was yours, but I won, so they’re mine now!” As she spoke, she reached down into herself and connected with the souls of her ancestors to release what souls she could that had been claimed by Orcis. At least, that’s what I’m led to believe happened.

We were not able to save his body, but together, Rylan and Hetzel saved Jii’s soul.

The skies rained down, droplets finally making their way to us below the canopy. The flames died out, leaving hard, glassy volcanic rock in their place, with flowers and grasses and trees sprouting up in the cracks.

It was clear something important had been done.

We gathered around Jii.

Thea began covering him with one of the cloaks given us by Olivia Tealeaf back in Little Grove.

“She gave us to them to keep us dry in the rain,” Rylan sobbed.

I had an image of Jii frolicking in the rain to keep up our spirits and began shaking. Three people in at least three weeks were dead. I couldn’t save Adrian Oakengrove, I couldn’t brink back Raffin Whane, and Jii had been stolen from us by Orcis.

It wasn’t fair.

By now certain of the guards were making their way toward us. Hetzel growled at them and they backed off.

Fuego set a hand on Jii’s shoulder and offered a short prayer for his safety.

A crowd had gathered by now, and in the confusion, we heard some poor fool suggest that this was caused by us.

Rylan lost it. “How fucking dare you sit here like spoiled wretches?! What is wrong with you?? I loved him, and you aren’t even worth his sacrifice. We should have let you burn . . .”

At this, Feugo picked Jii up and began walking towards the palace. Picking up Jii’s dagger, Rylan followed.

I debated saying something to the crowd, but realized its futility. I turned, too.

Twenty paces away, Tiago met us coming the other way. He pulled up short and looked down. Looking back at us, he said

“We can bring him to the temple and . . .”

“He was touched by Orcis and he died for these ungrateful bastards,” spat Rylan.

“What about a priest?” asked Tiago

“Not unless you know of a priest of the Traveler nearby,” Rylan retorted.

“I’m sorry I was not with you. I had been handling matters of the Empire; Angelspeck has sentenced the necromancers to die at dawn. What will you do with the body?”

“We never discussed what he wanted done . . .” Fuego replied.

We debated burying him, but eventually decided on cremation. But where?

“We need the Fae,” observed Rylan. “They said if we needed them we’d find a way. Did they give any of you anything? Turn out your pockets.”

We found nothing. We looked at Jii.

“I suppose there’s nothing for it,” Thea remarked.

We found a large jumble of odds and ends that would make sense only to Jii. We found his jar of worms, well, a jar containing one worm now. And lastly, we pulled out bones tied together to form an 8-pointed star.

As he picked it up, I could tell Rylan sensed something. He headed inside, and we followed. In the palace, the reaction was much different than that of the crowd outside. Here were heads bowed in respect.

We passed through the temple and into the woods outside. Sending a raven to Carrion, he asked Tiago “So, are you coming with us?”

“Your mother is watching over my daughter,” he began.

“I’m so sorry,” Rylan replied, “but at least she’ll now be the second-highest regarded high elf after Ruinfea in my mother’s eyes.”

“Yes,” Tiago agreed, “but as that is the case, just this once and as I am your friend, I will come with you.”

The bones led Rylan through the woods until we came to a clearing. A cloaked Carrion had begun building a funeral pyre. Rylan indicated the bones told him this was right and proper.

We helped Carrion build the pyre – a long pyre for a long boy (boi) as someone said.

Ruinfea changed back into her form and hit the ground.

“I can’t let this happen again,” she cried as Thea lifted her to her feet and supported her. As Hetzel kissed her on the check, she continued, “I’m just bad luck and shouldn’t be around people, especially not ones I care about.”

We all raised our objections, and in our shared grief the discussion didn’t last long.

Ruinfea was stuck with us for good or ill, for better or worse. We were family. We are family.

She nodded and clutched the bag at her side.

Hetzel gave her a squeeze, then approached Jii.

“I know you’re still somewhere and I hope it’s wherever you’re supposed to be. You might want to say here but you’re stronger than us now. And that’s okay, because we’ll still have you here, too.” She touched her heart, then moved away.

I came forward. I couldn’t bring myself to touch him.

“That night back in Little Grove, you were the first one to say hello to me. You were my first real friend. And while we fought about family, you died trying to save mine. I’m better for having known you.”

Fuego’s turn.

“You were a unique friend. Thank you for protecting us, and for making this group a family. I guess the protection bit falls to me now.”

Rylan

“You weren’t supposed to go away yet. You were supposed to be a gnoll and I’d rub you with oil, that was the plan, remember? You tried so hard to find a home that wasn’t bad. I hope you can find your peace, but you can’t stay here.”

He kissed him, and moved away, falling back into Thea’s arms.

“Don’t put any ribbons on him, he wouldn’t have wanted that at all,” he said.

We were confused, but understanding of the toll this was having.

“We won’t. No ribbons.”

Carrion gathered a bit of fire and, looking to each of us, lit the pyre. It burned bright in a mix of true and faerie fire.

As the flames flew high into the night, Thea began singing a haunting melody.

“Thea, correct as always,” sighed Rylan.

We sat and waited and watched, slipping into a kind of sleep-haze. We knew we were both safe and sleeping as the smoke became a damp fog. We watched as a cloaked figure walked silently up to the pyre, unaffected by the flames and smoke. They touched the emblem we’d placed on Jii’s chest, and it turned to ash and blew away in a soft breeze.

Words were spoken in a language none of us understood.

#### *Planning to Leave Spriggan*

When we awoke, the fire was out, Jii’s body had been reduced to ash, and the stranger was gone.

Tiago gather the ashes in a simple wooden box. That would have to do, for now.

“Who will take it?”

I looked to Rylan, who shook his head no. no. no. no. no.

Tearfully, Ruinfea reached out. “I’ll take it.”

“How long are you staying in Spriggan, then?”

“Not long just enough to rest.”

“I don’t know where to go or what to do without him!”

“Might I suggest spending the night at the palace? In the morning, after the executions, I’m returning to the capitol. You’ve the map still, so perhaps you should go to a nearby town? This is not the first funeral I’ve attended, and the world keeps going whether we want it to or not.”

We made our way back to the palace.

“I shared a room with him,” sobbed Rylan, “I don’t think I can be in there alone.”

“Is there any way we can be all together?” asked Ruinfea.

Graciously, Tiago and Feno gave up their rooms for us.

“Well, I promised her I’d teach her potions,” Rylan said, “and it doesn’t look like I’m getting any sleep tonight. So, if she’s game, I am.”

Looking pale, Fuego collapsed into a chair.

I found a quiet corner and set out the items needed for prayer. Evening prayers to Oghma are supposed to be said aloud, but this was not for the others to hear. I began to focus my mind, and it wasn’t long before tears began to stream down my face.

Lord of Knowledge, Binder of What is Known, called by us on this plane by the name of Oghma – I come before you a humble, wounded, and confused cleric. What can I tell you that you do not already know? In one day I have been made a lady of Menzoberrazean, fought against an abyssal god, and lost my first true friend, Jii. The corruption of your Order in Spirggan has been exposed and the corrupters sentenced to death.

And yet I feel lost, hopeless, abandoned. I have been utterly devoted to you as best I know how since before I can remember, and now here, in this time and place, I cannot sense you as I did before. As the stench of the heresies performed here obscured me? My powers, channeled by your divinity, seem weak, and I am unable to strike the simplest of blows.

I have no desire to leave you. You have strengthened me my entire life, but now . . .

You told me to fill the scroll, but instead of grand adventure I have written misery and death. Am I to be eyewitness to the end of the world?

I would expose the lies and deceit that have led to the attacks on this plane. I would protect the beauty of its forests and mountains and rivers.

I still believe in you, but am I worthy to follow?

My hand had been burning and I don’t know why. I will not give in to this, whatever it might be. Perhaps I am simply a cog in your grand machinations. If so, sharpen my teeth for your purpose.

I will not abandon you.

I will not abandon them.

And if in your travels you come across Jii’s soul, I would ask that you greet him as True Friend, Loyal Companion, and direct him to his rest.

This last above all others is my desire.

And now, my lord, you know.

As I rose I realized: I’d been jealous of Jii. Sure I had/have a crush on Hetzel, but what really got under my skin was Jii. Not him, but his easy friendship. His carefree attitude despite his struggles. He had what I wanted.

He had been - no is - my friend, and I generally treated him terribly. Now, I could only hope to be the person he saw me as. And that needed to start with stopping feeling sorry for myself.

Rylan sat quietly in the chair he slept in, Jii’s thieve’s tools on his lap and his own kit bundled up on the table next to a bunch of blank parchment. Continually starting and stopping to find his words for a letter half finished in Thievescant.

Hastily he finished the message, brow wrinkled with heavy bruising and bags under his eyes before turning to us.

“Anyone want some tea? Bryn, coffee? I...” he swallowed hard, trying to articulate with his hands that he needed to do something with them other than his occupation.

“I can try and put together something to pick at?”

I took a breath. First steps.

“Umm . . .yeah. That sounds . . . nice. Want any help?”

Ruinfea sst near the window staring at the stars and holding both Jiis ashes and the bag on her side. She silently let tears stream down her face continuing to stare out the window. I’m not sure she heard Rylan.

Still kinda looking off, Fuego replied,  “I’ll take some tea, please.”

Rylan began quietly brewing tea, brows furrowed in thought. “I was thinking... about Arun; he’s a dumb little shit but his mom manipulated him. Maybe we can I don’t know, scare him straight? It might be good to have a win right now.” He stared holes into the three cups of tea and one of coffee, “...to able to save someone...” before wordlessly handing them out.

He softly smiled at me before waving to the table covered in his chaos. “I could use some help making sandwiches.”

Tiago placed a blanket over Ruinfea's shoulders and sat next to her quickly, quietly listening to the rest of the group talk, about everything, including his son.

I gave Rylan a soft look. Not exactly a smile, not yet, but . . .

“of course”

Fuego nodded as Rylan handed him a cup of tea, “Scaring him strait might work.”

Tiago spoke: “As his father, I want to believe that he was manipulated and that he truly was misguided in his actions. As a representative of the Empire, I know that what he did cannot go unanswered. He, like Liliahil, will need to go before the Emperor, and answer for his crimes. The Emperor was lenient with her because to do anything too extreme would be to draw ire from her supporters. My son, on the other hand... a second Stormosin betrayal? He will want Arun's head."

Thea sat silently in the corner. Her hands resting on her lute, feeling the wood but not playing. "I could also go for some tea, well sugared please."

Fuego glanced at Tiago. “It will likely put you under scrutiny as well”

“See there’s where I was thinking...” Rylan replied as he began brewing Thea’s tea and setting out some honeycomb. “What if we use that. Make him a double agent in exchange for leniency. Basically make it so that the kid is helping us, and therefore looks like he’s doing the right thing even though he didn’t mean to originally. It protects you Tiago and him. And it gives us potential insight.”

He paused before passing off the battered old mug and turning back to slice bread while I picked the meat and cheeses. “... I don’t ever want to make a mistake about our enemy again. I can’t... I won’t make a bad choice again.”

“Nor do I,” Fuego replied, “that could work.”

I looked up from the meats and cheeses and gave Rylan a sad look before looking back down.

“Yes . . . Choices”

Ruinfea pulled the blanket around her and nodded at Tiago. “Rylan I wouldn’t mind some tea. It couldn’t hurt...”

Rylan nudged another mismatched mug on the table towards Ruinfea, “Made it for you already. Figured it would help. And okay, Fuego; knowing you think it could work makes it seem less harebrained.”

He reached out a hand to my shoulder. “Manipulating a child into a set of ideologies for wicked intentions is the fault of the people in power. Not the kid.” With a gentle but pointed look towards me, his cleric friend.

“Thanks” said Ruinfea, sipping her tea.

I looked up at my friend and finally gives a small, yet tearful smile.

“I know. I’ve just been thinking a lot about choices these last few hours. I’m sure we all have. That’s all.”

And with that, I popped a small piece of cheese in my mouth and went back to putting the finishing touches on the charcuterie.

Hetzel looked up from the paper and charcoal she'd been doing.... something on in the corner.

"Thing is.  He's got that listening tattoo. You'd have to negotiate round that.   And get through to someone willin' to sacrifice a child for their own skin.  And even if'n we get him to agree, it's still sending a kid out on a possible death mission."

I looked thoughtful for a moment.

“As for the tattoo, would \*Silence\* work, then we conduct our business in writing?

And since we’re talking about workarounds, do we know if Oghma’s symbol has been negated? I don’t want one of those necromancy bastard’s souls jumping around. They don’t get to pull that off after . . . all this”

Thea drank her tea in silence, just listening to the rest of us speak.

Fuego stared at Hetzel with a mix of surprise and pride. “Both good points, and a solid workaround. Bryn, that amulet they where using, is there any possibility that is key to their necromancy shenanigans? I’m wondering if we did something to it, if that would put a stop to it.”

“I thought that’s what Carrion and Tiago determined, but so much has happened since then . . . As for doing something to it, it \*is\* still a relic. I wouldn’t destroy it unless as a last resort, and only after conferring with who’s left of whatever passes for cleric leadership.” I ended that last sentence with obvious disdain.

“I was thinking more like draining it’s power or breaking it’s connection somehow.” Thinking for a moment, Feugo went on. “Destroying a relic often has unforeseen repercussions.”

"If the connections not broke,” Hetzel offered, “from what we know they could kill him at any time they think he's turned. If they can't hear anything ever, that's suspicious likely." Frowns and looks back at her paper and goes back to scribbling on it.  "Delaying a death sentence ain't a mercy."

I looked at her. “You’re right. I’d forgotten. If they’ve been listening, they know he’s been arrested. They know that we know. If he suddenly shows up on their doorstep - wherever that might be - well, . . .”

Fuego: “Unless we make it appear as if he escaped. This would require a fair amount of trust.”

Ruinfea chimed in at this point, “The only issue I see with that is we just killed a god. Is anyone going to believe this dude escaped from all of us?”

Rylan wrinkled his brow in thought, taking in everything and mulling it over before speaking. “This group talked so much in front of the kid. I’m betting because he was his mother’s right hand. Which means we don’t have to send him back or come up with a lie, he has plenty of information already we just need to confirm it. And I think I know how to get the Mark off.”

He gestured over to his rapier before rubbing the back of his neck. “When I dozed off earlier I think I saw what I’m capable of thanks to Torm. How’s some divine lightning  strike you to warp the scar? Pun only half intentional. Ruinfea said Blood Hunters are made to hunt cultists like this, abyssal abominations and everything. I think it’s something I can do. It might only be a one time performance but... I think I can break the Mark.”

“It would be worth a try,” agreed Ruinfea.

“A scar is far better the the alternative” Fuego said, unconsciously rubbing his back. “I had a different kind of flash while we were tangling with that God.”

"Once the marks off,” Hetzel asked, “we can't send him back to them though, right? So we're back in the same position of just turning him over to the empire."

“His cooperation may result in a lighter punishment,” Fuego suggested. “Assuming he cooperates.”

Rylan spoke again: “I’ve got my share of them. Scars mean we survived. And yeah, I think it’s better for the kid one for trauma alone not to go back but also they might try and brainwash him back to the Cause. Better we try and get him to see past the propaganda now and spill everything he knows up until now then risk the small potential for new info and possibly lose him to brainwashing or death.”

Tiago, who had been listening, now have his perspective: “It would mean confessing that this is the second member of my family involved with the Company. But I would rather my son free of them, even at the cost of my political clout.”

“Could we spin it that your wife used her son as a weapon instead of he made this decision?” Asked Rylan.

“At this point I agree with whatever you all choose,” said Ruinfea as she stared back out the window and tearedup again.

Carrion went over to the window to sit with Ruinfea. He tried to look as unaffected by this as possible

“He’s not the only one bearing a mark they don’t want,” I pointed out. “For good or ill, the clerics here kept me safe for 78 years. Might something similar be arranged? A sanctuary? Not here, of course. Never here. But we also don’t want to draw the ire of the empire.”

“it is possible…” Tiago mused, “I might be able to spin it considering I have the Emperor's ear, for what it may be. But this might be the last time could pull such a favor. It leaves all of you in a lurch. What if me pulling for my son leaves you all without an advantage in the future?"

"would the best move be to hide the boy?" Thea asked as she made her way to the table where I’d been laying out the food.

Hetzel let out a very undignified snort.  "Then we'd figure something else out." She finished something with a flourish. "Rylan.  You send off that letter to my parents yet?"

“Saving the innocent is a priority,” Rylan replies. “And we can always start some kind of Sanctuary? For kids like Arun and Bryn? A place that’s safe and run by people who genuinely want to help. Give them a home and family...” he took a sharp breath, voice a little thready, “... it’s... something Jii would have liked.”

"somewhere that can give them a purpose maybe?" Asked Thea. "I think I know a couple of people who would fit that part."

Rylan scrubbed at his face before gesturing to the pile of letters waiting for the bird. “Yours went out first, these are everything else to send.”

With tears now streaming down my face, I nodded. “A place for the broken to be made whole, for the beaten to feel worthy, for the damned to be cleansed,” I managed to say.

"oh." Hetzel got up with her paper. "Do you think you could send another?  I got something for my dad to add to the stone"

Thea wrapped her arms around me and pulled me closer

Fuego walked over to Ruinfea and gently placed a hand on her shoulder as he silently leaned next to the window.

“Of course,” Rylan said. He looked over everybody and nodded, “Exactly. We found a place to heal. And that can be the legacy we put into motion. But legacy aside, Bryn’s got lunch settled. And there is no problem of this earth or any other that cannot be solved with cheese.”

Hetzel went over to Rylan to hand over her paper.  "Thanks, and true.  Cheese is always good." The paper contained a sketch.

Rylan beamed at the drawing, taking great care to package it up with a quickly scrawled letter to her dad. “Something this important gets the official seal. Have to make sure no one messes with it.”

I leaned  in to Thea’s embrace. Looking over at Hetzel, i said, “that reminds me of a line in a book I once read: ‘No one is truly dead until the ripples they made in the world fade away’”

To Thea, in a softer, quieter tone, I said “thank you” and attempted to put my own arms around Thea, such that we ended up holding each other as best we could.

Ruinfea placed her hand over Fuego’s.

From Spriggan to Dewport

Eventually we found rest.

We were awakened in the morning by a knock on the door. After a brief pause, Tiago let himself in.

Rylan, waking up from a dead sleep, threw a knife at him, embedding it in the doorframe and missing Tiago’s face by a hair’s breadth.

Seeing the shocked expression on Tiago, Rylan, by way of apology and explanation, said

“I’m angry at dream you. I’ll explain later.”

“Well, dream me must have been quite the prick . . .”

“You . . . with your face . . . never mind.”

“You’re not the only one with strange dreams,” said Fuego, rubbing his head.

“Give me back my knife,” Rylan half-sighed, half-demanded.

Tiago obliged, unstabbing the door.

Rylan stood up to take it from him, and a silver dagger fell to the floor.

Rylan stared at it briefly before picking it up and placing it next to Jii’s – his – beholder dagger.

“The executions are in an hour, if anyone wants to attend . . .” Tiago announced softly.

But for the moment, attention was on Rylan and Fuego.

“Are you okay?” Ruinfea asked Fuego.

“You too?” Ryan questioned.

“During our  . . . encounter, I saw something. Last night, I had another . . . experience. A visit.”

“It’s complicated,” offered Rylan.

“Indeed, but I didn’t get anything shiny like you did,” Fuego replied.

“Who was it?” asked Thea.

“I don’t quite know,” Fuego told her.

“I know who visited me,” Rylan said, somewhat distastefully.

“Do I need to kill them?” asked Hetzel, hearing the tone in his voice.

“No, no, no,” Rylan said quickly, “It was Torm. It was a test, and I saw Tiago, and it was . . . complicated, as I said.”

“I’d rather not tangle with any more gods for the time being,” Fuego said softly.

“Look, something happened here in Spriggan a few thousand years ago. A spell plague affected clerics and paladins and sorcerers. I’m not sure exactly, but I got the feeling it might spread out. Torm said I didn’t need it now, but I should remember it for ‘when the time comes.’”

“Sounds like more magical BS to me,” Hetzel scoffed.

Finally answering Tiago, Rylan said “I don’t want to spend another moment here.”

“This spell, might it have to do with the organization?” mused Hetzel.

“It spread to both divine and arcane casters, and magic shouldn’t actually do that. At least, no magic I’m aware of,” Rylan explained. He rubbed his head. “I’ve got a killer headache.”

“That’s what the tea is for,” replied Thea, handing him a freshly made cup of soothing tea.

The others talked amongst themselves, coming to the understanding that none of them wanted to stay in Spriggan any longer than necessary.

I remained silent, lost in thought. Rylan had called me the Voice of Oghma. He might have been trying to bluff, but the fact remained that, despite my personal doubts, I was the cleric who brought down Castguard and Frostbrink. If I had exposed the truth, didn’t I have a duty to see the consequences through? On the other hand, my heart was still full of sorrow and rage and regret. It might not be a good idea for me to attend.

Thea was the first to recognize I hadn’t said anything. She looked at me kindly and asked “Bryn, what do you want to do?”

Again, I thought of Jii skipping in the rain, then remembered the feeling when I felt him die. I reheard Rylan’s scream and saw his pyre catch flame.

“I’ve had enough of death for the time being,” I answered. If this was right or not I do not know. But it was the truth.

“I can make excuses for you to the king,” Tiago began, before Rylan cut him off.

“No, no. We can see him briefly before we go. We’re not slinking out like we’ve done something wrong. Besides, it might be good for the people to know we back him.”

“Your mother and he were already out this morning, visiting the displaced and injured, doing what they could while promising future aid as well.”

“That’s good to hear,” Rylan continued. “Aurun, then – is he to be ‘protected’?”

“He must return to the capitol and face a trial. There will be punishment. What will happen I cannot say for certain, yet I hope.”

Carrion spoke up. “While you’ve been talking, I’ve been studying the map you’ve got. The nearest town to here marked with one of those circle things is the town of Dewport.”

“Then it’s settled,” Rylan declared. “Breakfast, then king, then caravan.”

Our goodbyes to King Angelspeck and Matron Baenrae were light affairs.

Heading out into the town, Spriggan was quiet. There was still a small amount of work being done to fix the damage done by Orcis and his fiery demise, but for the most part everyone was still gathered at the execution site. Though they had already been carried out, executions are social affairs.

War Pig trotted along happily behind us and found a nice dirt patch to settle in as we loaded the caravan and checked our supplies.

Thea took the box containing Jii’s ashes from Ruinfea. “Jii goes up front,” she said. “He doesn’t like the back.”

“I can offer you a vessel from the Old City and have it sent on to you in Dewport,” Tiago offered.

“Something asymmetrical, something that doesn’t look the same way twice, something that changes colors as the light hits it,” Rylan and Thea offered their suggestions.

“I will see it is done,” Tiago told us.

Before he climbed into the caravan, Rylan took out his thieves’ tools and handed them to Tiago. “For Feno,” he explained, “I’m keeping Jii’s.”

“Feno?” asked Thea in surprise.

“I spent some time talking to her. She’s going to go to university to become an arcane trickster. She wants to be an adventurer like us! And after seeing what she did in that dreamscape, I’d say she’s already halfway there.”

Bidding Tiago farewell, we left Spriggan behind us.

### **Dewport**

#### *Arrival*

The journey to Dewport took two days. The trip was uneventful, and everyone had uninterrupted sleep. No more bad dreams, for the time being anyway.

As we moved south the vegetation became more sparse, with the lush forests giving way to the scrubby plains that heralded the coming of the rocky ocean shoreline.

Guards stationed outside Dewport checked wagons for smuggled goods – this was a port city, after all – but paid little attention to a crammed caravan of obvious adventurers and their animal companion. They were also being cautious: word had spread from Little Grove and Spriggan, though we ourselves went unrecognized. They gave us travel visas good for three days; after that, we would need to reapply.

Our immediate concerns were to find lodgings, food, and stables.

“War Pig can stay with Biscuits and Gravy,” Thea told Hetzel, “I’m sure they’ll get along famously after spending the last few days together.”

“War Pig is not going to sleep in a stable!” Hetzel cried. “He can sleep with us because that’s where he likes it. Besides, who’d snuggle with him in the stable? Biscuits and Gravy are wonderful, kind, and fine horses, but they’re not exactly the snuggling type.”

Asking around, it seemed the two likeliest options were two businesses known as The Sloppy Bachelor and The Virgin and the Belt.

At hearing those names, Thea and I looked at each other, then at Hetzel, and started laughing. We tried to contain it best we could.

“Let’s see where the locals go,” suggested Rylan.

Ruinfea started cackling. “I’ve lost it,” she said. “I’m tired and hungry and now everything’s likely going to be funny until that changes.”

Looking at the two establishments, it seemed the locals favored The Sloppy Bachelor.

“Let’s just spend the night,” Ruinfea said. “If we don’t like it, we look for someplace else in the morning.”

“How about we go in, and those of you who can speak to animals do your thing,” Rylan suggested. “If the bed starts talking, we turn around.”

“But wouldn’t that happen in every inn or tavern?” Thea asked, making an excellent observation.

As we debated what to do, we also began to actually look around at Dewport. The population was . . . different. Little Grove had variety, but was mainly populated by halflings. Spriggan, too, saw visitors, but was essentially a gnomish town. Dewport, though . . . Dewport was something else entirely. Peoples and races and clothes and accents from seemingly every part of the Empire and beyond walked its streets. I recognized water genasi, tieflings, and tabaxi. There were plenty I did not immediately recognize.

Hetzel reached out and tugged at my sleeve. “Is this . . . is this what most upworlders are like? Is this everywhere?”

Now, I’m not well-traveled, but I am well-read, so I was at least able to answer her question. I, too, was amazed by, well, everything: the shrines to the gods, the plethora of lifestyles, it was all . . . overwhelming.

“N . . . No,” I replied “I don’t think there’s any place quite like this.”

Dewport is known as the Sapphire of the North. It soon became apparent this name was not due to its water, which was brackish, clogged with flotsam and jetsam, and rimmed by rocky shores. Instead, it came from the architecture: many buildings were covered in blue reflective tiles, which in turn gave off a bluish shimmering light. I’m certain it would be gorgeous at sunup, sundown, or firelight. In the noonday sun, it was disconcertingly dazzling. I know Rylan and Hetzel were having a hard time.

Down the way we saw a very tall individual picking up and moving boxes. No, not boxes: crates. Easily seven foot tall or more, his tail flicked back and forth as he moved about, careful not to step on anyone moving about below him. His fur was the color of a slate-and-cobalt stormcloud. He had a broad pink nose, floppyish ears, yellow eyes, and soft, easy smile. Scratching his beard, he saw us looking at us and waved.

Hetzel waved back.

I didn’t know exactly what he was, but I’d read about firbolgs, a race of giants from the east, across the ocean. Perhaps this person was one of them.

Looking around, I realized something: no one was staring at anyone. At all.

I wasn’t the only one that noticed.

“No one’s staring . . .” observed Rylan in wonder.

“Yeah, this is amazing,” Fuego said in amazement.

Thea, too, had been lost in wonder. “Wait. Who’s staring?”

“No one,” Rylan answered. “No one is staring at Carrion or Fuego or at me. In other places we were the exception, the ‘good ones’. Here, it’s like nobody even cares.”

“Oh yeah . . . Hey, I think I can find us a tavern.” Thea really seemed out of it for some reason.

At that moment came a shouting from the docks. A ship loading in preparation of the evening tide had been having issues all day. The crew arrived both late and drunk and caused a general ruckus. Now, one of the great giant crates was in trouble. One of the crew had let go their rope, and it was spinning upwards toward the winch. This also meant the crate would come crashing down onto the docks below.

The creature I thought was a firbolg ran toward the ship, and we followed suit.

“We’re following the cow?” asked Thea.

Cow? Certainly she should know better.

“Oh, so that’s a cow . . .” remarked Hetzel as she ran. “I always thought upworld cows had spots.”

“Oh yeah?” replied Thea.

“That is not a cow.” Fuego said forcefully. “I’m fairly certain it’s a firbolg.”

“No, I’m thinking cow,” Thea argued.

We ran on.

“Whatever you do, don’t call him a cow or moo at him, please,” pleaded Rylan.

Arriving at the ship, we noticed several tabaxi urchin children playing on the docks, right underneath the crate and unaware of the predicament they were about to be in.

The firbolg ran over and scooped them up to get them out of the way.

Rylan, bouncing of posts and crates and barrels in a feat of athleticism, made it to the deck and grabbed hold the rope. He was neither heavy nor strong enough to stop the rope, but he did slow it down as he hung in midair.

Looking up, we saw the ropes begin to fray.

Hetzel ran underneath the crate itself, certain she could catch it with brute strength alone.

I stared in shock and horror. What could I, a four-foot gnome do? I didn’t have a spell for this!

Ruinfea, too, stood rooted.

Thea launched herself at Rylan, grabbing his boots before clambering up and over to the other side of the winch and attempted to stop the ropes from fraying further.

Fuego, too, rushed over and grabbed Rylan’s boots, but even their combined weight wasn’t enough to help much.

“What are you doing??” Ruinfea and I cried out in horror.

At that moment, the rope flew out of Thea’s hands and the box came crashing down.

In one fluid movement, the firbolg dropped the tabaxi (safely, if unceremoniously), stepped over Hetzel, and easily caught the box and set it on the ground.

Rylan landed gracefully and caught Thea in his arms; Thea, in turn, dismounted with a dancer’s flourish.

Fuego dropped into a roll and came out looking like a hero posing for a statue.

Everything went silent for a brief moment before the crew and now-assembled crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

The tabaxi began to scamper about the firbolg’s ankles as the half-elf quartermaster came out and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Haidrin,” he said “Thank god you’re here. We almost had produce all over the docks, and who knows what we would’ve done about it. Are these friends of yours?”

“I don’t know,” the firbolg named Haidrin replied. “Never seen ‘em before.”

“Great catch,” Rylan said admiringly.

“It’s just a day,” Haidrin shrugged.

“Well, you waved at us, and I waved back, so if we’re not friends already we might as well be,” Hetzel said.

“What just happened?” Ruinfea asked. “Did I really see that??”

“He caught it like it was air!” exclaimed Fuego.

I was still in shock.

Reaching into a bag and withdrawing his hand, the quartermaster handed Haidrin five gold, as two gold each to Hetzel and Thea and Fuego and Rylan.

“You don’t have to do this,” Rylan told him. “We were just looking for a place to stay. If you were to stay somewhere, where would it be?”

“Well,” the quartermaster thought, “there’s the Drowned Beagle, the Sucking Chieftan, and the Petite Bluebell. I suppose it depends on what you want.”

“Good food. Clean rooms. A place to wash up.” Ruinfea told him.

“Well, if rest is what you want, you don’t want the Sucking Cheiftan,” the quartermaster chuckled, “if you catch my meaning.”

Rylan started laughing. “I think I love it here,” he said.

“You’ve got quite memorable names . . .” Fuego observed.

Hetzel gave War Pig some mushrooms, he had perked up at the sound of produce.

Meanwhile, I noticed Haidrin hold out some of his gold behind his back to the Tabaxi children. Soon both the gold and the ragamuffins had disappeared. Maybe they’d stay out of trouble, or perhaps they’d find more. Only time would tell, I suppose.

“So, where would you go?” Ruinfea asked a bit more determinedly.

“I’d say the Beagle. If Haidrin here’s your friend, he can show you the way.”

“Hmmm. I guess I could do that,” Haidrin replied.

As we walked, the group engaged in banter while I looked at everything around me, trying to take it all in and being overwhelmed in waves. Rylan brought me back to my senses.

“Bryn, are you still with us?”

“Oh yeah,” I said, “Sorry, there’s just so much going on I kinda got lost in myself.”

“Whew. For a minute there I thought we’d lost you.”

“I guess that means I need to introduce myself,” I said to Haidrin. “I’m Bryn. Thank you for saving my friends.”

“It was nothing,” he replied as we made our way into the Beagle. There was a small crowd at the bar, behind which stood a individual with the head of a crow. I’d heard of kenku before, but never seen one. The customers in line would give their name, they would repeat their name in their voice, and then disappear for a moment before returning with a wrapped lunch.

Then I remembered: kenku can only speak through mimicry. I felt sorry Jii couldn’t have been with us.

We looked on in wide-eyed wonder as we got to the front of the line.

Hearing some of the conversation around us, by now we knew the operator was a female kenku named Jinx. She looked at us, cocked her head, and asked

“How you doing?”

“Okay,” Rylan replied, “We need rooms and food.”

“Rooms and food,” Jinx replied in Rylan’s voice. She picked up a ledger and held it out. Now in a man’s voice, she said “sign in here and we’ll get you set up right away.”

“Jinx does most of the work around here,” Haidrin informed us as she looked us over.

“I’ll sign us in, Ruinfea” Rylan said. “Why don’t you go ahead and pay?”

“How much do I owe you?” Ruinfea asked.

“How many rooms do you need?” Jinx asked in the man’s voice.

“Two,” Ruinfea replied, after some discussion.

“How long?”

“A few days, at least.”

Jinx wrote up our bill and Ruinfea paid.

Happily, Jinx went on in the woman’s voice, “You can place your orders now.”

“What do you have?” Rylan asked.

“Fish is fresh,” she replied.

“Fish sounds amazing,” Rylan agreed hungrily.

“What about potatoes?” Ruinfea asked her.

“How do you like them?”

“You know, Jinx,” Rylan said, “Why don’t you just bring us whatever your special is. I’m sure it will be lovely.”

With a pleased click, Jinx disappeared into the back.

“You’re right, she does do everything,” Ruinfea said to Haidrin.

“This place is hers; she came by it a little while ago,” he said.

Carrion finally spoke. He, like me, had been overwhelmed. But unlike me, he seemed to know exactly what Haidrin was.

“I’ve heard stories of the giants of Dewport, but I thought they were legends. I’d never thought to actually see one. Of course, you wouldn’t be one of those the stories spoke about. Unless . . .” He looked at Haidrin hopefully.

I feared his exuberance would offend our new acquaintance.

Haidrin seemed unperturbed. “No, not me. I’ve lived here the last couple years with my parents. I help down by the docks most days. I’m only about a hundred years old, so . . .”

I’d misheard him. “Five hundred!” I exclaimed.

“No, Bryn, he said one hundred, with a one and two zeroes,” Thea kindly explained.

“Oh . . . still, one hundred is pretty good.”

“So if you’ve been here for a while, you’d know if something was wrong,” Rylan began pressing him for him for information.

“I should think so,” Haidrin replied proudly.

At that point Jinx brought the food: smoked, stuffed cod with stewed veggies (mainly potatoes and radishes) and individual bowls of a mushroom miso soup. It smelled divine and tasted heavenly.

“Just a little something,” she said as she set it all down along with pitchers of grog and sangria.

“This is a blessing from the gods, Jinx,” Rylan declared. “Look, I’ve got something I’d like to share with you.” He took the recipe book from his pouch. “This was given to me by a dear friend. I’d like you to look through it. You can even make copies if you’d like.”

Jinx opened it and flipped a few pages. Then she look around, walked over to the door, and turned the sign from “open” to “closed” before hopping up on the counter and began to read, happily clicking to herself.

“Okay, after what happened last time, which of these is safest for me to drink?” I asked.

“What happened last time?” Haidrin wondered.

After regaling him with the fight at the Drunken Lizard, he look at me and said,

“If mead did that to you, you need to stick to water,” and he moved the pitchers away from me.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Rylan said, as he watered down a mug of grog and passed it to me.

“I think I’ll try the sangria,” Ruinfea decided.

As we tucked in, we heard a long, knelling bell from the docks.

Jinx and Haidrin looked at each other.

“Keep the doors shut, Jinx”

“What’s going on?” Ruinfea wondered.

“Ever heard of a plague bell? It means a plague ship has made port . . .”

“What can we do to help?” asked Thea.

“Nothing,” Jinx replied in the man’s voice.

“Not until we know how bad it is,” Haidrin clarified.

“Odd timing, given that dream,” Rylan muttered. “Jinx, is there a high window here? I’d like to get a better view of the surrounding area.”

Jinx double-bolted the door, then nodded and pointed up a flight of stairs leading to the second floor rooms.

“Are there any other guests here?” Thea asked.

“Family,” Jinx replied “earlier today.”

“Did they come by road or port?” Rylan questioned.

“I don’t know”

“The guard will be here soon to do a headcount,” Haidrin said. “We need to find out.”

We looked at the stairs, then back at the door.

We decided to split the party, with Ruinfea and Hetzel and Fuego staying downstairs with Jinx and Haidrin while Rylan, Thea, and myself went upstairs.

There was one shut door, and it was locked.

Knocking gave no answer.

Rylan and Thea checked for movement with a mirror. Nothing.

“Are we certain they’re in there?” Thea asked aloud.

“Only one way to know for sure,” Rylan told her

“And that’s to open the door,” I finished.

Rylan easily unlocked the door, then opened it just a crack – just enough to poke our heads through and see what was going on.

A waft of fresh air hit our faces.

Thea sighed. “Not an open window . . .”

We looked around. It was clear that some person or persons unknown had left very quickly, and had done so through the window.

#### *Pulling the Threads of a Plot*

We debated whether we should go in or not; the guard would be here soon for a headcount, and I thought it best for us to be downstairs when they arrived. We decided we’d go in and look around, but touch as little as possible – who knew what these folks had planned?

Rylan went to the window, Thea looked about the room, and I examined the beds.

“Hey, there’s a doll over here . . .” Thea pointed out. What appeared to be a homemade child’s doll with stringy hair lay abandoned in a corner.

“Yeah, they definitely went out the window,” Rylan observed.

I spotted something funny about one of the floorboards. “Looks like they tried prying up a board over here, but didn’t quite make it,” I said aloud.

Coming over to examine it, Rylan didn’t immediately pick up on anything. But as his hand neared the doll, a static feeling filled his palm, similar to the pins and needles of falling asleep.

“Oh shit,” he said, “that thing’s filled with fey magic, and not the good kind.”

“Crap,” I agreed.

“We’d better get downstairs,” Thea observed. “What do we do with that?”

Rylan picked the poppet up with a pair of tweezers from his kit. “We take it with us, and don’t touch it.”

Meanwhile, downstairs, the rest of the party had taken up various positions around the room. Haidrin, Feugo, and Ruinfea watched from the windows as the guards made their way down the street. Jinx continued to sit on the counter, contentedly reading, while Hetzel found a spot near the door and readied herself for action, if necessary.

“Can’t we just show up in a town and not have things go to shit?” she asked.

Haidrin gave her a concerned sideways look.

“Technically, we’re chasing shit, so the shit’s already here,” Fuego reminded her.

“I mean, true. When I first met you y’all had just finished killing that beholder in the murder tunnels,” Hetzel agreed.

“Beholders, plural,” Ruinfea chimed in. “And you weren’t there for the rats or the gem filled with eyes.”

Jinx inched her way behind the bar, but didn’t put down her book.

Still concerned, Haidrin spoke up. “And what are you concerned about here?”

“Zombies, most likely,” Hetzel said nonchalantly. That’s what they’ve tried the last two places, anyway.

“Who – or what – are you?” Haidrin questioned insistently.

Carrion and Fuego began talking over each other as they tried to explain the group, eventually settling on “the plucky sidekick’s plucky sidekick” as the best description.

“No, we’re varsity,” Hetzel insisted.

“Well, I’ve always thought of us as the y-team,” Ruinfea offered. “We’re not the z-team cause we’re not the worst one could do, and we are always asking ‘why’ . . .”

“That’s clever,” Carrion admitted.

“Put another way, did you hear what happened in Little Grove or Spriggan?” Fuego asked Haidrin.

“You mean you’re responsible . . .” he began to reply, before Hetzel cut him off.

“Responsible for stopping it, yes. Not responsible for causing it.”

At this point Thea and Rylan and I came down.

“Rylan, have you always had that doll?” Hetzel asked.

“No,” he replied. “This thing is imbued with fey magic. And remember what Jii told us about them?”

“Don’t eat anything,” Hetzel said.

“Don’t accept any gifts,” I replied.

“Yes, but also, don’t screw with them.” Rylan said forcefully.

“Well, I’m not sure why anyone would actually want to do that in the first place,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, that’s a big old nope,” Ruinfea agreed.

“Jinx,” Rylan continued do you have an old pot or something we can put this in? Cast iron if you’ve got it . . .”

She returned with a cast iron covered vessel. Rylan dumped it in. Jinx wouldn’t be using that pot again, I’m sure.

“So what do we do know, burn it?” asked Thea.

“Honestly, I don’t know . . .” Rylan mused.

A knock came at the door. Looking back outside, we saw three guards standing on the threshold. Jinx walked over, unlocked the door, and opened it just a crack.

“Headcount!” called one of the guards. Jinx turned to us and I saw her counting to herself.

“Nine!” she replied in the man’s voice.

“Ledger!” the guard called out.

Jinx shut the door, walked back over to the counter, picked up her ledger, walked back over to the door, opened it just a crack again, and slid the volume out.

“Is everyone in the ledger accounted for in your headcount? Specifically these three?” the guard jabbed at the ledger with a finger.

Jinx shook her head.

“Where are they?”

Jinx shrugged.

“They’re not here, is what she’s saying,” Haidrin said, trying to help his friend.

“When we heard the plague bell, we went upstairs to check on them,” Rylan told the guard. “When they didn’t answer the door, we went in. They’d gone out the window and left behind a doll. No, not a doll. It’s a poppet infused with Fey magic. We’ve got it in a pot. You can come in a see for yourself if you like.”

“No, that would be against protocol.”

“We can pass it out the door?”

The action done, the guards opened the pot and then shut it quickly.

“We’re going to need to lock this away,” one of them said as they began to walk away.

“Did they just arrest a doll?” Hetzel asked.

“Sure looks that way,” said Fuego.

“Who knew the punishment for pot was so high here?” I asked, again trying to lighten the mood.

“Hey, only Fuego gets to tell dad jokes,” Hetzel accused me in amusement.

We began telling the others what we’d seen. Midway though, Rylan stated to look ill, as if a malaise had suddenly come over him. “I’m not feeling so well,” he said. “Maybe you’d all best stay away from me . . .”

“Kinda late for that,” pointed out Carrion.

“Really, are you okay?” asked Ruinfea.

“No, I feel like shit.”

“Did it come from the room?” wondered Thea.

“Or from the doll?” I offered.

“Regardless of where it came from, it can easily spread, as Rylan is proof of,” Carrion pointed out. “He came closest but didn’t actually touch the doll. And Thea and Bryn, are you feeling okay?”

“For now we are,” we answered, looking at each other.

“Should we take a better look at the room?” Thea asked. “Since the three of us were already in there, we should probably be the ones to go back up . . .”

Once again outside the door, Rylan looked to Thea and me. “If you two are still feeling all right, I should be the one to go in. I mean, I can’t get any sicker, right?”

“The theory is sound,” I agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

Rylan went in, but looked very confused, as if he didn’t recognize where he was. Suddenly, he fell to the floor.

“Well, as long as I’m down here,” we heard him weakly say, “I might as well look at that loose floorboard.”

After several attempts and false starts, Thea and I directed him to the right one.

We saw him pull out a piece of paper, roll over on his back, and hold it high above him.

“Can one of you take this down?” he asked.

“I got you covered,” I replied, pulling my calligrapher’s supplies out of my pack.

I wrote as he spoke

“The white queen is troubled but can’t say why. Black queen hates the white and gives the assassin a black coat. The assassin steals upon the white queen. She cannot see him gliding through the shadows. The sword screams. The white queen falls. Her city falls. Domes fall in the cavern to crush the soothsayer. The tree burns and thrashes in agony. Branches break. Branches twist and grow together . . .”

We shakily made our way downstairs, where Rylan had me read the note aloud for the others. When I’d finished, Thea looked thoughtful.

“I remember a tale,” she said, “no, not a tale – a prophecy. A prophecy given before the spell plague. The start of when the gods became gods and the people that came before were devastated . . .”

“You mean gods like Torm?” Rylan asked.

Thea and I looked at each other.

“I guess?”

“Oh Bryn, you are so fucked.”  Rylan told me sadly.

“What else is new?” I responded. “But how, specifically, this time?”

“Well, remember my dream? The one where Torm made me throw daggers at the false Tiago and then told me about the spell plague and to remember it?”

“The daggers, not so much. The plague, yes.”

“Well, the plague affects divine casters, right? Like me and you and Fuego and maybe Ruinfea.” He looked over at the other two.

“Perhaps my vision is linked to all this too,” Fuego mused somewhat sadly.

“What vision?” Carrion asked.

“Did you see a god too?” Rylan questioned him.

“I woke up and saw everything on fire. People were screaming in anguish and fear and terror. I saw someone about to fall and I tried to grab hthem, but I missed and they fell, screaming. Then someone behind me touched me.

I turned and saw a female fire demon – at least, I assume it was a fire demon – and she told me I needed to let you all go. I’m also assuming she’s female, based on the flaming fiery female bits I saw.”

“I think they make a cream for that . . .” I said. That got a few laughs.

“Do I need to add her to my punching list?” asked Hetzel.

“I don’t know her name, but maybe I could draw a picture . . .” Fuego replied.

A few moments later, he showed us this:

“Yeah, I’d punch that.” Hetzel said defiantly.

“Like I said, I don’t know who they were. The last thing I heard was her saying ‘I’m going to give you time to remember.’ Then, she kissed my forehead and I woke up.” He rubbed his forehead as he finished speaking.

“Oh, so you’ve got that ambrosia stuff I’ve heard about,” Hetzel said confidently.

“Amnesia,” Carrion and I corrected in unison.

“There’s a lot I don’t remember – pretty much everything past two years ago. I don’t remember my life, and there’s a bunch of facts I know, but don’t know how it is I know them.”

“What, exactly, is it you do?” asked Haidrin.

“I’m a flame spell warlock . . .”

“So . . . you’re a warlock and this chick shows up. You puttin’ two and two together?”

Haidrin is starting to fit in, I think.

“I didn’t know there’d be math!” Hetzel complained.

Fuego began to explain warlocks on Hetzel’s level. “So, remember when you killed Orcis?”

“Wait. What?!” Haidrin exclaimed.

“Long story short,” said Thea, “we uncovered a group of necromancers in Spriggan, and before we could stop them all one of them summoned Orcis. We defeated him, and Hetzel here killed him, or at least his avatar, but we lost our friend Jii in the fight.”

“Anyway,” said Fuego, picking up his story, “during that fight I had a vision. It was like a memory of being tortured in hell . . .”

“I’ll punch that bitch twice,” Hetzel declared.

Haidrin and Fuego began discussing the particulars of wizards and warlocks, and how certain spells acted like a beacon to one’s deity . . . or patron.

Thea looked on as Haridin explained some of his eldritch knight-ness. “You’re wonderful . . .” she murmured.

Haidrin looked like he got this all the time, but I can’t help but wonder if, somewhere in her mind, Thea was still convinced Haidrin was a cow – a wizard cow, to be precise.

“Do you think any of this has to do with the spell plague?” asked Carrion.

We began talking over each other, resulting in some mild confusion until

“Yes.” Thea spoke confidently. “The first plague spell started with the death of Mystra, goddess of magic. It looks to me like the Hollow Company is trying to make history repeat itself.”

“Shit,” spat Ruinfea.

Rylan, Haidrin, and Thea began to talk about gods and death and how gods became gods. I didn’t catch it all, but the gist of it is that Mystra’s death caused a lot of other gods to die, too – along with their followers. Somehow, Torm was one of the few original gods to survive.

“What was the prophecy again, Bryn?” Thea asked.

I read it again.

“The only queen I know of is in Limdel, unless we’re counting my mother, Matron Baenrae,” Rylan mused.

Another sideways look from Haidrin and concern from Jinx.

“Look, my mother follows Loth and this (he pulled a book out of his pack) is out religious text. It’s mostly indoctrination bullshit but there just might be something in here that could help us. I think this might be talking about Faerûn . . . You know, when Ceric tried to kill the others gods like an assassin? There was lots of killing.

In the stories, Loth tried to become the goddess of magic in 1480, and that’s also about the time Talos went from being a mortal to being divine . . . because he had divine potential.

And Mystra, well, Ceric hated Mystra because she had a kind of weaving magic. It didn’t matter if it was divine or arcane or whatever, she just did it. And she wouldn’t tell how she did it, and that made her enemies.

I can tell you Eldath really got screwed over. (Haidrin looked intense at this) A few gods even pretended to be someone else, like Sune, also called Hanali Celanil. She actually convinced the Fey she was Fey – or part-Fey at least.”

Haidrin gave him a long look. “Sune helped the dragonborn, I heard – told the survivors to live and thrive.”

“This thing is pretty much useless and biased,” said Rylan, shoving the book back in his bag. “Is it really telling us Faerûn is real?”

“I think that’s exactly what it’s saying,” Carrion replied.

“So. What does the cult have to do with this?” asked Ruinfea.

“What cult?” asked Haidrin.

“The cult we’re trying to stop. The one Thea mentioned: The Hollow Company.”

We explain the cult and the conspiracy, then Hairdin asked to see our map.

He looked it over. “Well, Dewport has two gods here: Valkur, god of sailors, and Umberlee, goddess of the sea.”

“Oh, you mean the Bitch Queen,” offered Carrion helpfully.

Haidrin cut him off. “Don’t call her that ever, but especially in this place!”

“Hmm. Could it have something to do with festivals? There was a festival in Little Grove, and one in Spriggan, too, right Bryn?”

“Not yet, but one was coming. I think our actions might have forced the Hollow Company’s hand to act earlier than intended.”

Haidrin continued: “And let’s see. Limdel worships Corelian - the high elf muckety muck. Moorwick follows Sylvanus, and . . . Ruinglass has Bahomet. I think he’s sacred to Dragonborn.”

Fuego nodded in agreement.

Bahomet. Raffin.

“So, you’re a firbolg. What . . .” Rylan began.

“Wait, what?” interjected Thea.

Haidrin laughed. “Let me guess: you thought I was a cow.”

Thea looked embarrassed.

“Don’t sweat it,” Haidrin told her, “believe it or not, it happens more often than you might guess.”

“As I was saying,” Rylan continued, “you’re firbold: you can trace yourselves back to Faerûn.”

What followed was a discussion of mists and breaking of lands and gods and goddesses that I barely followed. The gist of it was that the first spell plague apparently took place there. When the gods and their followers died, a cataclysm followed that split Faerûn from the rest of the lands. Apparently, the Hollow Company was attempting to reunite everything for their own nefarious reasons.

Rylan grabbed the map. “They want to reconnect everything and end with themselves in charge. They’re trying to force a restructuring of the gods around themselves so they’ll look good to Ceric.”

“I suppose I should warn the dwarves, then.” Hetzel said, sparking a lively discussion of messages and trust and propaganda.

In the midst of this, Fuego began to look ill.

“But you weren’t upstairs!” I cried.

“But he was in a room with both the doll and someone else who was sick,” Haidrin pointed out with a sympathetic glance toward Rylan.

At that moment, Jinx appeared with some tea Thea had asked her to brew.

“Peppermint and arrowroot,” Jinx said in the woman’s voice, pouring Rylan a mug.

“Well if it spreads by proximity, should we all be together?” Thea asked nervously.

“Too late . . .” Carrion answered.

That, in turn, led to Haidrin discussing magic and magic ailments.

“Torm gave me this dagger, and said it was to be my mark.” Rylan said. He tried to imbue the dagger with rite of the storm; it barely worked. “That should have been easy,” he remarked concerningly.

“You mean like this?” asked Haidrin as we whumped his axe in his hand.

“Yes, exactly. This is bad.”

“The clerics in Little Grove were attacked; in Spriggan they were corrupt. Here is looks like divine casters being neutralized so they can’t help.”

Just then, more bells sounded. The quarantine was being lifted.

“I’m going to go find some help,” Haidrin told us. He gave a meaningful look at Jinx, who locked the door behind him.

Whistling, Haidrin drew the attention of one of the bell-ringing guards and brought him back.

“We’ve got some ill people here, even if they don’t look like it. You can’t life the quarantine.” He told the guard. “You see him? He should be able to draw lightning into his dagger as easily as I do this.” He smacked his hammer in his hand, while Rylan once again drew sputtering, failing fire into his dager.

“B . . . but,” the guard began.

“They’re doomed.” Rylan deadpanned.

“But I can’t reimpose the quarantine. It was approved by the merchant’s guild! We couldn’t find the rat, so . . .”

“It’s not a rat. It’s a doll. A poppet.” Rylan told him.

“Oh. That. The clerics already came down and poked around it and found no contamination.”

“Of course not, because they didn’t know what they’re looking for,” Rylan said. “It’s not their fault. We didn’t know ourselves until after we sent it away. The last towns we were at the clerics were infiltrated or corrupt. Here you’re doing everything exactly as it should be, and it’s still gone wrong. I’d say you did a dumb, but you weren’t dumb. You can’t know what you can’t know.”

“I know you can’t put the quarantine back up, but what about shutting down this district?” Haidrin asked, slipping him a small amount of gold.

“Well . . .” the guard paused. Turning down a bribe would really bring him down in the eyes of his fellows if they ever got wind of it.

“Who’d take care of you if the healers couldn’t heal?” asked Hetzel.

“Me girl down at one of the other pubs. She’s a druid.”

“And who would take care of her when she falls ill?”

The guard looked back at the gold, then at Haidrin. He nodded. “Who’m I looking for?” he asked.

Jinx drew him a picture of three elf or elf-like people. Two older, one a child, and all with flaming red hair.

Thea began to strategize. “Wait. If there’s other bars, what if they’ve gone to more than one place, or what if there’s more than one group?”

“Then there could be other outbreaks of plague . . .” Fuego realized.

It was time to go hunting.

#### *The Plague Trackers*

Whatever discussion we might have had of splitting up the party was quickly squashed by our memories of Little Grove. We had no desire for any of us to end up in prison, set on fire, or seemingly captured by Fae beings. Especially Fae.

Thea, Rylan, and myself decided to once again brave the room upstairs and look for further clues. Looking out the open window and across the alleyway, we noticed a tile on the opposite roof was missing, recently broken free of its siblings.

While Jinx stayed inside with the doors locked, everyone else headed outside. Hetzel patted War Pig encouragingly – yet distractedly, while Fuego continued to rub his eyes – he was not doing well. It was Haidrin who discovered the roof tile on the ground shattered. Staring at the pieces in concentration, Ruinfea noticed a pattern. In her mind’s eye she saw it: a slight imperfection on the surface that bore a remarkable resemblance to a bare footprint.

By shouting and mining to each other, our two groups made it clear we both reached the same conclusion: whoever had gone out the window had fled across the rooftops. Rylan was determined to follow the rooftop path, and Thea vowed to follow him, just in case something happened. The group on the ground said they’d follow the alleyways, keeping near Rylan as much as possible.

Rylan and Thea easily leapt across the gap – and with style, too - but then I had to make a decision. I didn’t want to go downstairs; in a way that felt like defeat. I didn’t want to jump the gap; I’m a gnome, after all. And if I didn’t make the jump, could I survive the fall?

“If only I had a grappling hook,” I muttered. Wait. I did have a grappling hook!

I went to get it out, but Ryland and Haidrin made it clear I didn’t need the hook, just the rope.

With Rylan and Thea’s help, plus a good throw on my part, I easily made it across the alley.

Thea and I followed Rylan. The prints were slight; had the tile not been highly polished I doubt he would have seen the greasy tracks. Below us, the rest of the party followed relatively easily, though crowds began to fill back in, the quarantine having been lifted and the afternoon just beginning. There was still plenty of time for work. The trail ended at a gutter and lattice leading down to a back alley nearer the docks. Not the part where we’d met Haidrin, this looked like it would be the home of smugglers, pirates, and illicit affairs of every stripe.

Making our way off the roof, the party reunited.

“You’re gonna want to mind your business ‘round here . . .” Haidrin warned us.

“But we . . . “ Hetzel began.

“Trust me. Mind yourself.”

“I’m confused, then. I thought . . .”

“Hetzel, these are my kind of people,’ Rylan tried explaining.

“Oh, I didn’t know Drow had their own areas. Isn’t that kinda racist?”

“No, Hetzel. Not Drow. Rogues.”

“Oh. I still didn’t know you had your own special places.”

“Well, we don’t really go around crying ‘Who wants some crime?’, that’s just bad for business.”

Following the prints, we saw the led to some kind of ramshackle den.

“Looks like a drug den,” Haidrin said, “but seems to be okay for what it is.”

“I don’t know what you’re looking at,” Rylan countered. “It’s a drug den all right, but it’s not as neat as you thing. I mean, it’s not awful, but it’s not hygienic, either. Hetzel – touch nothing. Now, tell me what you’re going to do.”

“Hi, we would like some drugs!”

“Maybe you should just stay here with War Pig”

“I could stay outside with him,” Carrion piped up. “I doubt I’d be much use in there anyway.”

Thea shook her head as she turned toward the door.

“Good luck buying drugs, mom!” Hetzel called out.

“Look, I just want to see what this is all about,” Ruinfea opined.

Turning back to her, Thea suggested “Like riding in someone’s hair?”

Rylan got down on one knee as Ruinfea wild shaped into her chameleon form and climbed up on Rylan’s head.

Rylan, Thea, Fuego, and Ruinfea entered the den of supposed iniquity.

Inside the door, the entry was veiled with bolts of cloth, giving a similar aesthetic to the bordellos in the more arid parts of the world. At least, that’s what I’ve read about.

Three people were visible: a half-orc woman and a Drow male of House Mizrain (pierced, but no rings) guarded a tall wood elf standing behind a privacy screen, engrossed with a ledger.

Rylan looked at Thea and Fuego and silently agreed to split the room.

Rylan slid up to the Drow, causing him a moment of panic as he froze.

“At ease, Cousin,” Rylan said. “I was hoping you could help me. You’re House Mizrain, right?”

“Are you here to take me back?”

“Oh . . . you’re one of the Lost?”

“I’m not sure how much I should say . . .”

“You can trust me.”

“Yes, I am amongst the Lost.”

“What’s your name?”

“Bellaern.”

“I’m Rylan, and I’m not here for you.”

“What are you looking for?”

“A barefoot family with Fae magic about them.”

“There was no family, but . . .”

“Tell me.”

“There was one man, either human or half-elf, about 5’10” with long red hair came in about an hour ago – right after the plague bell.”

“That can’t be a coincidence . . .”

“I tried to keep him out, but the Archsabelle let him through.”

“Can we come through as well, then?”

“That’s up to the Housemaster.”

“Will he listen?”

“He’ll listen to anyone if the price is right. Everything’s for sale around here.”

Rylan gave Ruinfea a look.

“Keep an eye out cousin. By the way, which side were you trained on?”

“Martial”

“Well, that man is connected to something bad.”

“Should I warn the Housemaster?”

“Not yet. Look for sickness, though.” Taking out a scrap of paper, Rylan wrote Bellaern a note to the effect of, “whoever finds this Drow, know that he is acting on my behalf.” It’s Rylan’s way of protecting him, I suppose.

Bellaern took the note, read it, and stuffed it in his pocket with an incredulous look.

“Mutual aid, you understand,” Rylan told him.

“Of course, sire.” Bellaern had seen Rylan’s name.

“It’s Rylan” he replied, giving him a shoulder squeeze. “Oh, and stay away from Spriggan. My mother is there.”

Meanwhile, Fuego and Thea stayed mainly to themselves as Rylan talked with the Drow now known as Bellaern.

“What do you think, do we ask her what’s going on?” Fuego asked Thea, gesturing toward the female guard.

“Rylan seems to be doing well; let’s not get in over our heads.”

They began discussing the sickness as Rylan and Ruinfea rejoined them.

“How’d that go?” Fuego asked.

“The good news is the guard saw the guy. The bad new is that’s the only person he saw. No sign of the other two. The head of the house let him in; we might need a bribe.”

“Another exit could be anywhere . . .” Fuego pointed out.

“Let’s go tell the others. Then we can plan.” Thea suggested.

“Any luck with your drugs?” Hetzel asked, loudly, seeing them emerge.

Rylan shook his head in consternation. “We’ve had some luck – one of them might be in there.”

“Just one?” I asked.

Rylan nodded.

“We need to cover the back,” Haidrin pointed out.

That started a discussion of how to split the party – if we split the party – and what to do with War Pig. Hetzel continued giving him pats and oats and generally seemed mostly oblivious to what was going on around her.

Again, we decided to not split up.

We entered the patchouli-scented foyer and approached the elf with the ledger. He closed the book, stood up to his full height, and looked us over as he moved the screen.

“It’s good to see such a large . . . party.”

Rylan arched his eyebrows. “We’re here for a friend. Red hair.” He held out some gold he’d gotten from Ruinfea’s bag.

“Oh, you mean the half-elf with red hair who came in about an hour or so ago.”

“Take us back,” Rylan insisted, weaving into his request a thieves cant: “If you don’t cooperate I’ll break your face” and flashing his sigil.

The elf disappeared briefly, then reappeared and motioned for us to follow.

The air was heavy with incense, and many smaller rooms lined the corridor. Peering in between the cracks, I saw a variety of people in various states of . . . inebriation, for lack of a better word.

Many were chilling or lounging back. The incense wasn’t necessarily effecting us, but I must admit that Fuego and Rylan began to look a bit better. Smelling the air more closely, I thought I recognized the smell: drakeroot. In high doses, concentrated mandrake root caused a coma and cocoon-like covering on the one who used it. It would rejuvenate the user, but any injuries sustained in a 24-hour period after its used would not heal. It would remove all scars. It was also highly addictive.

The elf led us to a secure metal door. Knocking on it, the door opened by magic (I could sense it) onto a dark room.

“Housmaster, you have guests asking about the polite red-headed young man.”

“And who is doing the asking?”

The elf looked at us. “I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your names . . .”

We answered him with silence.

The elf walked off as we entered the room and closed the door behind us.

The housemaster seemed to enjoy the shadows, whether because he enjoyed the theater or darkness or some mixture of both.

We made out some kind of satyr who kept a lyre near him. Thick insense swirled as he stepped forward.

“There are only a few reasons for Sly to leave you alone with me. Should I fear you?”

“No, not for now,” Rylan said ominously.

“Then we start as friends,” he replied.

“We’re looking for a friend,” Rylan began, kicking off a discussion of sale of information.

Haidrin appeared to cast detect magic, and found a lot of it coming from the lyre.

“What have you to offer?” The Housemaster asked.

As we looked at each other, he continued “What’s the matter, Tabaxi got your tongue?”

Rylan reached up towards Ruinfea, who got down and started to change back into her human form.

Housemaster smiled a very unfriendly smile at her, and she immediately climbed back up into Rylan’s hair as a very uncomfortable looking chameleon.

Rylan looked through the treasure from Feno’s dream, eventually pulling out and offering a potion of fox’s cunning in exchange for information.

“Well, I don’t know how much I can tell you,” Housemaster began.

“Then I’ll just have to put this back for something else,” Rylan replied.

“You liar,” Housemaster accused him, “you promised payment for information.”

“I did,” Rylan agreed. “And I never said I’m not paying you. I just said it wouldn’t be this.”

“The gift he gave me was a single lock of his hair. Can you do better?”

No. We weren’t going to give him that power.

With Housemaster distracted, Haidrin took a step and disappeared.

At the same instant, Housemaster turned and reached for his lyre. He and Hairdin locked eyes, and then each froze as they silent cast spells at each other.

Housemaster growled.

Rylan took this opportunity to practice his sneaky slight of hand to steal the lyre, which seemingly winked out of existence.

Housmaster roared and his eyes flashed black like coal.

“I present to you the greatest trick,” Rylan began.

“THIEF! RELEASE ME!”

“You first,” Haidrin said.

He whipped his head back toward Rylan. “YOU STOLE . . .

“Not stole. Trick. And I’ll give it back when you tell us what we need to know. Besides, all this talk of a spell plague could be bad for business . . .”

“You’d be wrong about that.” (if only we’d followed up on that comment!)

Fuego fiddled with his rings as Housemaster’s eyes flashed wildly. Haidrin took the lyre from Rylan.

“Your quarry is still here; we should go to him as friends,” he wheedled.

Rylan called for his cousin in High Drow.

Housemaster gestured toward the door. “I don’t teach underlings the knock,” he explained. “Do you want me to open it or not?”

Bellaern came in and Fuego left with him to find our prey, whom Housemaster now named Ourous. They found him in a room, curled in on himself and shivering and sweating, apparently suffering the ill effects of one of the drugs.

They reached down to pick him up, but at the same time Ourous sprang to his feet and blew dust at them. Their eyes became hazy and blurry. Ourous tried to shove his way out, but ran into something. Fuego recalled hearing crashing and commotion.

Hearing the din, we rushed out to see Ourous running for the center mercantile and began snapping his fingers to unlock the drug cabinet.

Rylan pulled out his dagger, which became a flaming sword, and his crossbow, which now pulsed with an electric energy. He shot at Ourous, and the incense around us ignited as we all ducked down. Thankfully, it didn’t hurt a single one of us.

Ourous, though, was hit directly, and a plume of bluish-silver blood shot forth. He grabbed a bottle and threw it at Rylan. It missed and crashed to the floor, sending a fizzy purplish liquid spilling on the ground.

In the confusion, there was a sudden flash as, out of nowhere, the woman appeared. Before anyone could think to react, she ran through us, flailing a dagger and slicing my neck open. Blood gushed down the front of my clothes.

“Godsdamn bitch! Why me?”

Haidrin, seeing my state, called up a small tornado around us, dispelling the incense and forcing everyone else out.

I couldn’t see the woman, but I could see Ourous, the bastard. I tried hitting him with sacred flame, but the shock of being attacked and the loss of blood must have been too much: it didn’t even hit him.

Hetzel raged and charged, knocking him upside the head. He staggered back, bared his teeth, and growled. Hetzel returned the sentiment.

Fuego, with aid from Rylan, began to cleanse his eyes while Thea tried to tend to Bellaern. She cast Bardic Inspiration to Rylan.

Ruinfea, though, surprised everyone. Leaping from Rylan’s head, she sprayed a poison from her chameleon fingers as she screamed at him, landing on his face and jumping right back toward Rylan.

The poison found its mark, and we watched at Ourous died choking and scratching at his eyes.

Rylan immediately looked for the bitch who cut me. He cast faerie fire on her.

“I can’t believe that worked,” he said, and she was illuminated.

Rylan tried shooting her, but his bolt missed; instead the bolt landed in a beam, weakening it.

Rylan was still close enough to stab her though, and she screamed.

Bitch attacked Rylan as her eyes flashed and she screamed again.

Rylan pushed her back and tried casting curse of the eyeless.

Haidrin glared as the support beam cracked and the building began to cave in.

The woman disengaged from combat and began to flee.

As the beam bent, Haidrin’s warding wind fell, and he reached up to catch the falling timber.

I ran outside with Hetzel and War Pig and Rylan. I tried casting hold person, and though she froze for one split second, she continued on her way, pushing through a crown of onlookers.

Hetzel and War Pig charged her while Rylan attempted a flying tackle with Ruinfea screaming as she had done mere moments before.

As Rylan sailed through the air, War Pig came underneath him, taking Bitch’s knees of from under her. She fell to the ground as Rylan landed on top of her. She was not getting up as Hetzel and I finally caught up to the rest, though she did try calling for help.

None came for her.

Back inside, Thea looked at Ourous’ dead body as it suddenly winked out of existence.

“Did you see that?” she asked. “He just wooshed away in a black and purple mist!”

“No,” said Fuego, rubbing his eyes.

Bellaern squinted.

“Just our luck,” said Fuego.

“We should get out,” urged Thea as she looked around. Anyone else here?”

“No,” answered Haidrin, “And I’ll be fine, just get yourselves out; don’t worry about me.”

Fuego tried to position a pole to help Haidrin out, but what Fuego took to be a might support was in reality no better than a long mop handle.

Fuego ran toward the exit, Bellaern in tow.

Haidrin was fast, but not fast enough. Perhaps it was because he chose to carry his lion-like tail, but the building came down on him as he attempted to flee. There was a moment of silence from the crowd as the realized Haidrin was inside. Then, movement as a single hand broke through the rubble an dHaidrin slowly pulled himself out.

“Dude better not be a zombie . . .” I heard Hetzel say under her breath.

I saw Haidrin roll over; he’d been protecting the lyre. I suppose we had made a promise, after all.

A nearby druggie looked at the building, then at Haidrin, and exclaimed “Holy shit, this stuff is good!”

Red Haired Bitch (RHB) moaned in pain.

“Oh, are you in pain? Does it hurt?” Rylan asked mockingly. “Does it hurt as much as it did when you slit my friend’s throat?”

“Wait what?” asked Hetzel, realizing I was covered in blood. “We should just kill her right now.”

“Tis but a flesh wound,” I tried to laugh it off.

Hetzel, though, still seemed ready to rage.

Rylan tied up RHB in his signature shibari and carried her back to the collapsed building as we followed.

“Everyone okay?” he asked.

Thea stood in awe of Haidrin.

“I’m seeing better now,” Fuego replied.

Thea and I took stock of who was injured, and were able to heal most everyone up.

“What do we do with her?” asked Carrion.

“We carry her,” said Haidrin nonchalantly.

“Like a trussed ham!” exclaimed Rylan.

Haidrin picked her up without a problem. “You try anything,” he told her “and I’m gonna chuck you . . .”

“Like a pumpkin!” finished Rylan.

“Well, that solves how but not where,” observed Carrion.

“The city guard?” suggested Haidrin.

“Yes, let’s do that,” said Thea.

RHB shook her head.

“Look bitch, I’ve been taught by the best,” threatened Rylan. “I will make you pay more than you already have if you don’t cooperate.”

RHB glared at us as Haidrin snorted.

Rylan and Haidrin turned to War Pig. Using Haidrin’s ability to speak with him, Rylan offered War Pig the biggest mushroom he had, plus a white truffle, if War Pig could track down the third member of this plague party.

War Pig looked from Haidrin back to Rylan, and Rylan crossed his heart. “If you find her you get the big one plus the truffle.”

“Is beef wellington better than mushrooms?” War Pig asked.

“I’ll make one just for you so you can enjoy the crust,” Rylan promised.

“I’ll need a scent seed . . .”

We went back to Jinx’s, where the guards had returned the doll after finding “nothing wrong” with it. It was still in the iron pot.

Jinx had kept the doors locked, and now opened them to let us inside, counting heads as she did.

Rylan got the pot and opened it very carefully for War Pig. “If mother could only see me now,” he said, somewhat sarcastically.

“If you feel he’s patronizing you, just say so,” Haidrin told War Pig. “and I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s how he always talks to me,” War Pig replied. “It’s okay. He’s good.”

Having now got the scent, and incentivized by the prospect of beef wellington, War Pig took off . . . an immediately went upstairs. He came down some minutes later dragging the comforter.

“I can’t help you with this one,” said Haidrin, but whether he was talking to Rylan or War Pig was unclear.

“She went outside, buddy,” Rylan said encouragingly.

War Pig ran upstairs; Thea followed him. This time he tried going out the window, following the same trail we’d taken shortly before.

“He really wants that beef wellington,” Haidrin told us.

Coming back downstairs, Thea noticed War Pig’s nose was pretty dirty from all the gunk we’d gotten into. Wiping it off, she said, “Here’ maybe that’ll help better for next time.”

Jinx, meanwhile, looked very concerned about all of us.

While Rylan went to a corner to concentrate on making an eyewash for Fuego and Bellaern, I approached her.

“So, here’s what happened, . . .”

As I filled her in, she grew ever more concerned, and at one point walked over to the windows and closed the blinds and shutters.

His elixir complete, Rylan proceeded to wash out the burning nastiness from our companion’s eyes.

Ruifea also decided it was time to shift back, but she started the change before she was fully of Rylan’s shoulders, so we were privileged to see – just for a moment – Ruinfea with her legs wrapped around Rylan’s neck and shoulders as she climbed down.

“If only Mother could see me now . . .” Rylan reiterated.

Having now left the drug den, Rylan and Fuego were once again feeling unwell. Not sick, exactly, but not up to snuff either.

The RHB, meanwhile, had been taking everything in.

Bending down to her, Hairdin spoke. “If you bite me, you’ll end up with fewer teeth.” He removed the rope from her mouth. “Now, this can go one of two ways. If you answer truthfully, no more harm will come to you from us other than what you’ve already had. Lie, and it’ll go poorly.”

She thought for a moment before replying.

“What information would you like to know?”

“Wait just a moment!” I cut her off. “Are we really just going to trust her on this?”

“I could offer some liquid encouragement,” Rylan suggested.

“Or I could cast another zone of truth,” I offered.

However, my spells hadn’t really been going right since Little Grove, and it was evident. Well, at least my healing spells still worked.

Rylan quickly brewed up a truth potion and forced it down RHB’s throat like one would a dog its medicine. After several minutes we could see the effects take hold, thankfully with no ill side effects.

“What’s this plague?” Rylan asked.

“And how do we mitigate it?” I added.

She never answered the first question and went right into mine.

“Were you feeling better at the den?”

“Yes”

“The boss liked the idea of a safe place,” she chuckled.

“How do we stop it?” Rylan continued.

“Well, death is one way,” she replied sarcastically

“What’s another?” I asked angrily before other members of the party could react. A good thing too, as I saw Haidrin palming his axe and Hetzel flexing her fingers.

“My, you’re all so serious, aren’t you? Plagues are temporary, after all.”

“Yes, especially for those who die from them,” Fuego remarked.

“What does the Hollow Company have to do with all this?” Ruinfea asked.

“The Hollow Company? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a few months.”

“But you have heard of them?” I asked as Haidrin bopped her on the nose.

“Of course; they’re the ones who hired me.”

“To do what?” I drilled.

She chuckled again. “Parts of all this.”

“And then what?” Ruinfea continued.

“Spend my well-earned money, of course.”

“So your whole job . . .” Ruinfea began.

“Where’s the third member of your party?” Rylan cut in.

“Who? Oh no, it’s always been me . . .”

“What do you mean?” I asked suspiciously.

“You may see three, but there’s only been me . . .” she began to sing-song. Clearly the effects of the potion had an intoxicating effect.

“Then, who’d I kill?” Ruinfea asked.

“I mean, some of me or a part of me? I really don’t know.”

Fed up, Rylan walked over to the iron pot that had held the doll. Picking it up, he slammed it on RHB’s head and began tapping incessantly on the sides. “There, you’re gonna wear this bitch hat until we decide where to go from here,” he said.

“It’s dark in here . . .” came the muffled reply.

Rylan rapped on the sides again, but apparently too strongly: RHB went unconscious. Eh. Served her right.

She was Fae all right, but definitely not a changeling. At least, not the changeling we knew.

Poor Jii.

“I don’t like this. . .” Ruinfea began.

“She’s Faerun, I’m sure of it. This is illusion magic.” Rylan declared confidently.

“Who do you think she meant by ‘the boss’?” Thea asked.

“If I had to guess, I’d say the satyr,” Fuego responded.

As we talked, Rylan went into the kitchen and began prepared beef wellington: one for us and one for War Pig.

“After all,” he said, “He did lead us to the girl, even if she wasn’t who we thought she was.”

The rest of us began to discuss the plague.

“She’s got to be a messenger,” Rylan finally offered. “She doesn’t know much, but she knows some.”

“I could try some scrying magic,” Ruinfea offered, “but I don’t seem to have a focus handy.”

Rylan handed over his Torm-given dagger. “Here. This ought to work just nicely.”

As Jinx helped Rylan with the food, Ruinfea sat quietly for about ten minutes, lost in concentration. Finally, the blade began to glow. Standing up and walking around the room, Ruinfea saw the blade glow more brightly in one part of the room than the other, specifically the wall that faced the direction of the docks.

Now that we knew what was what, it was time to go back out. Jinx let us out, locking the door securely behind us. We took the RHB with us; we weren’t going to leave her with Jinx – who knows what might happen. We got looks from passersby, but our confidence overcame any overwhelming curiosity on their part. There’s no kink shaming here in Dewport; I imagine that in some dark corner of the city someone is crying out “Choke me, octo-daddy!” Best not dwell on that thought, though.

Following Ruinfea following the blade, we entered the warehouse district. There was a great deal of security, and I’m very glad we entered in daylight. At night, it would be downright treacherous. The scrying brought us to warehouse #25, guarded by a few private security watchmen.

“Do we go through the front, or through the back and cover our asses?” asked Rylan.

“I’ll just go up to the front,” Haidrin answered, and he did.

Approaching a female half-elf and a male dragonborn, he said: “So, here’s the deal. I gotta get in to bring something (gesturing to the RHB) back to its sender.” He stretched out an open palm containing ten gold pieces, five for each guard.

The dragonborn looked at the gold, then at Hairdin before replying.

“Whatever you’re into, mate, this isn’t the place.”

“Do you want the gold or no?”

More consideration.

“It’s not worth it.”

Rylan had taken advantage of this situation to place herself behind the dragonborn, the larger of the two guards.

“Does this smell like chloroform to you?” he asked as the guard slumped to the ground.

Simultaneously, Haidrin landed a blow in just the right place to take out the half-elf. Looking around, Haidrin and Rylan decided to try to hide the sleeping guards around the corner.

Unfortunately, there was another guard we hadn’t seen.

Rylan had been expecting as much and quickly reached for his crossbow, but for once Thea was faster.

She cast sleep and the guard collapsed in mid-cry.

We stood still for a moment and, when it became clear the alarm had not been raised, we arranged the guards and turned to a nearby hatch window. Picking the lock, Rylan got us all inside.

It was a large, open warehouse, with catwalks above and a central office overlooking the whole thing. The walls were made of crates with pathways between them. Ruinfea threw pass without trace, allowing us to walk in shadow toward the center of the building, stopping in front of a large crate.

Unlike the other crates, which were nailed shut, this one had a hinged door kept in place by an iron bar.

When Hetel suggested we knock, Haidrin set down the RHB and set his hands on the door. Fuego, too joined him.

Exercising caution, Rylan and I searched for traps, finding a sigil on the bar.

“We should use the RHB to break the thing,” Hetzel suggested. Maybe we should have listened to her.

Instead Rylan tried to disarm the sigil, and something went wrong. Well, the sigil worked perfectly throwing a wave of psionic energy through those nearest the crate. Haidrin and Fuego and Rylan were lifted into the air and then slammed to the ground.

They looked about where they were at after the fight in the drug den. And this was before we even knew what was in the box. Not good.

“You guys kinda suck right now,” Hairdin complained. Things were fine before you came.”

“Actually no,” Carrion corrected him. “Things were already in motion and would have happned if we weren’t here. So things there not fine.”

Rylan turned to open the door when Hetzel grabbed him. “You’re not doing that again,” she said, moving him to the side. Then, looking at Thea and myself she said, “Come on and get your boys.”

Thea moved toward Fuego, leaving me to try to move or convince Haidrin he needed to move. A gnome and a firbolg. It’d be comical if it weren’t so serious.

While Fuego listened to Thea, Haidrin was recalcitrant.

“You gotta move. “

“No, I’ll just eat it again. I’ll be fine.”

“You wont be fine, you’ll die. You’ll die here in this dirty warehouse. Is that really what you want?”

Haidrin shrugged.

“Fine. If you won’t move, neither will I. I’ll just have to “eat” whatever’s inside, same as you.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll move.”

And he did.

Hetzel opened the box. Out wafted a cold, musty smell. A smell of dust, not dirt. We waited quietly and peered into the impenetrable darkness.

The sound of whirling chains met our ears, and in the dark, deep inside (much deeper than the crate itself) we saw a glowing red haze flicker and grow, the darkness seeping out as it expanded.

In the growing light we saw a statue chained and pinned: a statue to Tharizdun.

In front of the statue a cloaked figure knelt in unmoving supplication. Breathing came from somewhere inside.

Hetzel shut the box. As we discussed what to do. Finally, Rylan decided to pray. I mean I would have prayed if I could, but I don’t have that divine knowledge yet to be able to demand an answer.

After a tense second Rylan opened his eyes. “Torm said we need to interrupt the ritual. Things will get unstable and then we just have to slam the door.”

“Time for fireball?” asked Fuego.

“Fireball.” Thea and Rylan and Hetzel agreed.

Haidrin spoke up. “I think I finally know what's wrong with you two. This isn’t just a spell plague, this looks like an abyssal plague. If you don’t get help soon, you’ll start to have red crystals start popping up on your skin and by then it’s probably too late: you’ll become an abyssal demon.”

We stared at Haidrin and then back at our friends.

“What kind of help do they need,” asked Thea.

“I’m not sure; some kind of divine magic,” Haidrin replied. “That’s what I’ve heard in stories, anyway.”

“Now, this might not be the time,” Carrion spoke up, “but I’ve done something bad. Well, not bad, but it made me feel bad at the time. Remember back in the den when you said you were feeling better? Well, I nicked a cone of incense. Maybe it’ll help you feel better, but I’m not sure how you take it.”

“Well, the stuff was burning earlier,” Thea pointed out. “This isn’t cut with anything so it’ll likely burn like hell, but you’ll live.”

“That’s not a cure,” Haidrin pointed out. “It’s just a delay.”

“It’s also addictive,” Carrion reminded us.

They snuffed the incense anyway and took a few breaths before turning back to the door.

Hetzel once again swung the door open. Everything was as it was before, with one exception: the figure was now standing. Whether he had finished his ritual or finally sensed us there, I can’t be sure.

#### *The Box that Held the Abyss*

A crown of horns sat on his head, and he peered at us with red, crystalline eyes as he raised his long, black arms and stood on long legs covered caked in tar, stretching to his full height of ten and a half feet.

“Are these champions I see before me?” he growled from deep in the back of his throat.

Hetzel growled back at him.

“We’ve been called better. We’ve also been called worse,” Fuego replied somewhat nonchalantly before . . . “Fireball!”

The blast hit the creature in center mass, burning away some of its already-tattered clothing and revealing even more tar underneath. Fuego stood his ground.

I started at the thing for a brief moment and remembered what had happened in Spriggan. My attacks have been mostly useless since Little Grove, but I’m coming to realize I might not be a fighter after all. What happened in Little Grove was because I was terrified and angry and pushed into a corner. I had taken that to be the norm and then failed miserably in Spriggan, and we lost Jii. Maybe that wasn’t my fault, but I still can’t help but think I didn’t do enough. But not today. This thing wasn’t going to take any of us without a fight, and to fight we needed health and defenses.

And what am I? I am a cleric; time to act like one. Tapping this newfound confidence, I calmed myself and prepared to cast; a few of the others later claimed they saw a faint halo appear over my head. I first cast Beacon of Hope, giving us all advantage on wisdom, some advantage against death, and allowing us the maximum of any healing – at least for a minute. Then I cast Mass Cure Wounds in order to give Fuego and Haidrin and Rylan the max health I could offer.

I heard Thea cast blindness, and saw a haze surround the demon, but his glowing eyes pierced the haze and the laughed mockingly.

Thea then tried inspiring Rylan as he drew his crossbow and dagger, imbuing each of them with his divine bloodhunter magic and transforming his dagger into a rapier. The bolt and blade found their marks and did their work, but the fire and lightning flashing through the air seemed somehow slow. Nevertheless, chunks of tar fell from its frame, revealing an open ribcage and necrotic organs before more tar slid down, covering them once more.

Hetzel, continuing to growl, raged and swung her great axe. It hit true in the center of its body – and stuck there. Letting her axe go and reaching back, she grasped the halberd and swung hard in an attempt to cut her axe out. She sliced a little low, cutting it just below where the duodenum would have been, creating a small opening soon covered by tar.

Hetzel bared her teeth in anger at losing her axe, for the moment, at least.

The demon looked straight at Hetzel as his ribcage cracked, opened wide like a jaw, and swallowed Hetzel’s axe. The bones knit back into place with a disgusting pop. He smirked at Hetzel with bright red glimmering teeth shining through cracked lips.

He reached under his robes, and we heard another crack and pop. He pulled out a piece of ribcage and brought it down hard on Hetzel. She staggered and I saw its ichor splash onto her, but I don’t think it affected her.

The whirling chains behind the creature now started to twitch and move, and three of them flew at our group. Hetzel and I managed to dance out of the way, perhaps due to our small stature, but poor Haidrin got tangled up in one of them. The chains wrapped around his ankles and up to his knees, bringing him to the floor and began dragging him into the box toward the statue.

The demon ripped another piece of rib from his body and threw it at Rylan, but the shot went wide and the bone sailed past his head, burying in the wood next to him where it smoldered.

Ruinfea’s face was a grimace of disgust as she cast Ice Storm. Unfortunately, her magic went wild and Rylan and Hetzel found themselves caught in the crossfire as they took a significant amount of damage compared to the minimal damage seemingly done to the demon.

Carrion stepped forward and appeared prepared to attempt some kind of wild magic, and though his hand glowed with magic, nothing seemed to happen.

Haidrin remained prone on the ground.

Fuego tried to shatter what might’ve remained of the thing’s mind, but again caught Rylan instead of the demon.

Seeing my friend taking such a beating, I rushed over to him and cast Death Ward, followed by Mass Healing Word on the party. Again, I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Thea tried to cast Polymorph, but the thing just laughed at her, and she turned her attention to Rylan, offering up a Healing Word for him.

Rylan again drew his crossbow and rapier, and again they both struck true. The tar came back, covering the gaps as it did before, but much more slowly. Some gaps didn’t even close. “Fight me  you fiendish bastard,” he yelled.

Hetzel swung her halberd again. As it struck, she told him, “Your breath smells terrible.”

She swung again, and the halberd stuck in its shoulder, and like the axe a moment before, it stuck there.

This time Hetzel tried to tug it out, but as she struggled, the thing’s chest opened again and swallowed both halberd and Hetzel.

As we stood in shock at what just occurred, the thing animated more chains and sent three of them flying at Rylan. All of them missed and whipped on air, but the chains on the ground continued dragging Hairdin further in. Enraged, the demon attempted to stab Rylan while compelling him to kneel.

“I’ve been compelled by better,” he said, dropping is aura. “ Why don’t you kneel to me instead, you fucking bitch?”

For a moment the demon retreated and his head bowed ever so slightly. But it was just for a moment, and soon he was back in the fight.

Ruinfea drew her bow and let fly an arrow. It hit, but it was only a scratch. I doubt the thing even felt it, but good on her for the hit. I know what it’s like.

Carrion decided to try something else. Breaking into a melee attack, he wrapped his hands around one of the demon’s wrists, specifically the one holding the dagger. Necromantic magic washed over the hand as it withered and fell off. Carrion stood in shock, likely from the fact that something actually worked.

Haidrin still couldn’t break the chains.

Fuego cast sacred flame and caused a bit more damage.

Seeing Carrion’s necromantic magic work, I tried Toll the Dead, but though the spell went off, it didn’t have any effect. Maybe its wisdom was just too high. Ah well. I could see the thing was starting to struggle. Maybe it’s time for the javelin? I cast Spirit Shroud in anticipation. It wouldn’t matter how much damage I did; so long as I hit it, it couldn’t regain any health for a short time – hopefully enough time for the others to take it down.

“Someone pull Haidrin out of there!” Thea called. As she said this, I saw her open a door in the air and disappear into the abyss. A split second later she reappeared with Hetzel – but without axe or halberd – and immediately slammed the dimensional door shut behind them. Hetzel was upright but leaning heavily on Thea.

Grabbing some vials out of his bag, Rylan rushed over to Haidrin and splashed some acid on the chains and began to drag him out of the box. The marks on his lower legs were flaming red, and a hazy glaze covered his eyes as he appeared to be in some kind of sweating fever.

Hetzel was obviously traumatized, but she ran to aid Rylan shouting, “Don’t touch it!”

From the floor, Haidrin looked up at Hetzel and handed her his hammer. “Take it down,” he told her.

Hetzel swung twice, and the hammer did its work. Spine and ribs broke inward and, perhaps most importantly, the hammer didn’t stick.

The demon turned to look at Hetzel, but now it was apparent his body was broken.

Hetzel swung twice again, and the tar began falling off and pooling at its feet. His skeleton was apparent now, and it was more beast-like than humanoid. An ape-like skull with long incisors set atop a gangling frame with deep ruby red crystal eyes flashing a kind of energy.

Looking at Hetzel, the thing swung his one good arm against one of the chains still hanging from the ceiling, breaking off his own hand and leaving the jagged edges of the radius and ulna exposed. He stabbed at Hetzel, but as he did so, Thea called out “Oh not you don’t!”, throwing him off just enough that Hetzel was able to dodge his thrust.

Now the thing adjusted his gaze toward Thea, stabbing his arm-weapon into Thea’s shoulder and twisting. I heard her cry out, but seemingly more in surprise than in pain – though it must have hurt, too.

Ruinfea tried shooting another arrow, but this one went wide and sailed into the shadows. She then tried spraying him with poison spray, and this time hit him square in the face, the acid beginning to eat away at its facial bones.

Carrion reached forward once more, this time grabbing onto the other arm. Once more a wave of necrotic energy washed over the demon as this arm, too, withered away to nothing.

Fuego cast firebolt, landing a square, solid hit.

I threw my javelin, and it hit, cracking ribs and sticking into its spine. The thing seemed on its last legs.

Thea reached over and grabbed my javelin, wrenching it out of its side and stabbing him right between the eyes.

With a cry of anger and rage, the thing finally crumbled into dust, leaving behind two now-dull rubies on the ground. Thea quickly reached down and picked them up with the sleeve of her shirt, being careful not to touch them.

A growled shout reverberated from under the earth and the shadows in the box began to recede with a force none of us had witnessed before. As we attempted to run, Ruinfea and Fuego slipped on the sticky floor and began to slip and slide down into the abyss.

In one fluid motion, Rylan tied off a rope around a nearly support and swung himself toward them. He caught them, then looked at us with concern, unsure he could make the climb to the box entrance. Sensing this, Ruinfea changed into a chameleon to try to lighten the load and use her sticky fingers to grip the rope.

At the same time Haidrin, sick though he was, gave a mighty tug on the rope. He must have used most of his strength, because Rylan and Fuego and Thea came flying out the box. As they cleared the doors, they slammed shut and locked themselves. Everything went quiet.

Looking over, Haidrin looked tired, with bloodshot eyes and some sort of flu. He leaned against one of the supports, flatfooted. It was clear he wasn’t going to be upright for long.

Thea began to offer up Cure Wounds, but put her hands down, sensing it would be ineffective.

I offered up a prayer of healing for whoever might need it before my Beacon of Hope ran out.

“Hetzel, are you okay?” Rylan asked. “You’ve got that thousand-yard stare . . . “

Hetzel didn’t say anything, but instead reached back to where the axe and halberd should have been. Here she was, on a quest to recover a family artifact, and she’d lost the very thing her family had given her to succeed. The axe was more than a weapon to her; it was her connection to her family, far from the mountain as she was. My heart fell for her.

Ruinfea tried examining Haidrin, determining that he was being poisoned, but not by any kind of natural toxin.

Rylan and I joined her; with our combined medicine and nature and arcana knowledge, perhaps we could do something. Haidrin was indeed diseased, and the pain he must be in would have to be excruciating. Rylan was certain he could brew something to at least stabilize, if not stop it.

He turned to the RHB, still lying trussed up on the floor. Looting in her pockets, he found a vial. “This looks handy,” he said, turning to us. “I’m pretty sure this will work; and even if it doesn’t outright cure him, it’d be useful to know what it does in case we need it later.”

It was clear this disease was not the same one currently coursing its way though Fuego and Rylan.

As we talked, Hetzel walked over with Haidrin’s axe. He was now lying on the ground. Taking one of his hands, she wrapped it around the axe’s handle. “Maybe this’ll help,” she said, softly.

The vial did its work, and Haidrin fell into a restorative unconsciousness.

Fuego and Ruinfea began searching for something to carry or move Haidrin in. In a nearby crate, Ruinfea found a cot: the kind that could be carried by two people.

She and I shared a look at the cot, then at the crate it had been in.

“We should leave something for it,” we both said, nearly at the same time. Ruinfea took out a few gold pieces and tossed them in the crate.

“They can buy a new one,” she said, “or even a couple of them. I’m certain they’ll come out ahead.”

“Can I see those stones, Thea?” Rylan asked.

Thea brought them out, carefully.

Staring at them, Rylan continued: “I thought I could intimidate him into giving Hetzel’s axe back . . .”

“I fell through the abyss,” Hetzel said quietly. “I fell and fell and fell, utterly alone except for the beasties. I don’t know if they lived there or were captured or what. We never got that close.” Her voice trailed off. “I need a nap,”

Haidrin roused slightly and noticed the axe in his hand. He looked up at Hetzel, who was carrying one end of the litter. “Take care of it until I’m better,” he said. Then, he fell asleep again.

We returned without issue to the Drunken Beagle.

“I wonder what would happen if I played that satyr’s lyre . . . “ Thea mused.

“Nothing good.” Rylan replied.

I think some of us had forgotten that particular enemy.

Rylan began talking to Hetzel of building blanket forts, and how he was going to set it up so that she could snuggle down with War Pig.

“I’ve never had a blanket fort,” Carrion informed us.

“Well, the good thing about them is they can be made to size,” Rylan told him.

“You wanna share?” Hetzel asked him.

The two nestled down, surrounded by comforters. Ruinfea changed back into a chameleon and climbed on her shoulder. Hetzel reached up and stroked her, gently.

A short time ago I would have been jealous. Okay, so I’m still a little jealous. But now I know it’s not personal. This is how Hetzel is with anyone. I’m just as much her friend as she is with anyone else; we just have different roles to play. I saw her look when she realized the RHB had nearly killed me.

For right now, my purpose isn’t to comfort. One day, perhaps, but not now. My purpose is to write. One day, perhaps, we will have passed into legend. One day, all of this may happen again. I don’t want to think that maybe we’ll fail and someone else will have to pick up where we left off. Maybe I shouldn’t cipher this thing so strongly. I don’t know.

Anyway. I sat down in a corner and began to write.

“Why don’t you tell me a story of back home?” I heard Carrion say, his voice muffled.

At this point, Jinx and War Pig came out with the beef wellington.

Haidrin was stabilized, Rylan and Fuego weren’t any worse – for now – and Rylan would still be protected from death for another seven and a half hours, and many of us were hurting both physically and mentally.

As the tantalizing aroma filled the air, we looked at each other. We needed to rest.

Rylan and Fuego looked . . . all right, with Rylan appearing the worse of the two. He glanced over at me.

“The good news is my poisoner’s training is still going strong. I’m an elite, toxin-ridding machine. The bad news is my body’s burning through that incense like a cheap candle.”

“Haidrin said we needed to find some kind of divine magic . . .”

“It’s not like any magic I can do. Maybe we try to find that satyr . . .”

“I could go back to the den and try to find some more incense . . .”

“Whatever we find needs to be a cure, not a palliative . . .”

As we discussed what to do, our conversation seemed to go in circles.

I’d been sitting for a bit while writing and needed to stretch. Standing up, I felt flush, and the beginnings of a headache behind my left eye caused me to sit right back down.

“Godsdamn shit.”

Rylan looked at me sympathetically. “Oh Bryn, not you too?”

“It was bound to happen eventually . . .”

We all looked at Ruinfea.

“I feel fine,” she said, the last of our divine casters left unscathed by . . . whatever this was.

Whatever this was.

Sure, this was a demon plague, but was it the spell plague Torm had warned Rylan about? Ruinfea wondered if there might not be two different things at work here.

“Well, we can’t just sit here and turn into demons . . .” Rylan’s voice trailed off.

Hetzel, meanwhile, sidled over to Jinx.

“Got any gods around here?” She asked.

“The gods of the sea,” Jinx replied. “They’re not exactly healers, but they do have priests and clerics and paladins.”

“Hetzel, that’s great and all, but we can’t risk infecting more people,” Rylan began.

“No, I know,” Hetzel cut him off. “I was thinking maybe those of us that can’t get sick should go and get help. Like me and Thea and maybe Carrion. Haidrin, too, if he weren’t sleeping.”

“I’m not sure I should go,” Carrion objected. “I’m not the best person for these sorts of things.”

“Carrion, you’ve already done splendidly,” Fuego reassured him. “We couldn’t have defeated the demon Murmur without you!”

“Yeah,” I chimed in. “And if things go wrong just give someone a withering look!”

“Jinx, you want to come with us?” Thea asked.

“No, I best stay here just in case,” she said.

In case of what we didn’t have to ask. The plague might’ve spread through the whole city by now.

“So, I guess we’re splitting the party. Be careful out there,” Rylan admonished them.

“I’m goin’ road tripping with mom!” Hetzel exclaimed.

I could only shake my head.

#### *Son of Tears*

It was now about midnight. Hetzel and Thea and Carrion made their way through nearly empty streets to the temple district. The temples to the gods of the sea, chaoctic good and chaotic evil, built of marble and obsidian, flanked the square. A loud, booming voice echoed in the mostly-empty space.

Looking about, they spotted the speaker: a figure in a tattered brown robe with long white hair and dark, crinkled, paper-like skin stood addressing what few people could hear him. His presence was in his voice. He stood with a staff as he rocked back and forth. The rocking may have come from his age, but it undoubtedly also came from an inner energy.

He was declaring a warning. “The people of Dewport don’t even know what’s under this town. A creeping, lurking evil is hiding just under the surface. Judgment is here and judgment is coming. We see it in the eyes of our neighbors, in the faces of those we pass on the street. How much longer will you stand in denial of what is right in front of your face? My voice is the voice of truth, and . . .”

“You think they have murder tunnels here, too?” Hetzel asked Thea, leaning over.

“Sounds like it.”

“Hey, you! Person over there!” Hetzel called out.

The speaker honed in on them with clear, chestnut brown eyes.

“Are you aware of what’s going on in Dewport?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Hetzel began, and proceeded to try to explain things to him in her fashion, which generally means telling the story as if everyone had been there. Perhaps for the first time in his life, it was the speaker looking at someone else as if they were crazy.

He looked to Thea and Carrion. “Please tell me what she says is true . . .”

“Well, for the most part, yes,” Thea replied. “She has all the important bits exactly right.”

“Oh, I forgot about the goat man. He had something to do with this, too. I think we still have his music thingy. He’ll probably be looking for it.”

The man was now only half listening to Hetzel.

“And this is confirmed? The disease you speak of, and the terror that is coming?”

“Oh yes!” Hetzel exclaimed. “But I can’t remember who told us. Was it the demon or Torm?” She looked at Thea.

Thea, in turn, sighed as she looked at the man’s shocked expression. “It was Torm who appeared to Rylan in a dream and warned him of what was coming,” she said.

“Well,” the man said, “I do have some resources. I can help many people in the short term or even cure a few individuals. I’ve tried talking to the priests and the town council, but no one believes me . . .”

“You want me to beat them up?” Hetzel offered. She clearly had latched onto this man.

“No, Hetzel.” Carrion restrained her.

“Aw man, I knew you were gonna say that. You never want me to beat them up.”

“It’s not that we don’t want you too,” Thea explained, “it’s just that we know you shouldn’t. At least, not at first . . .”

“But what if they’re evil like in Spriggan or Little Grove?”

“Let them prove it first.”

“The leaders here are ignorant fools,” the man declared. “Now, can you tell me clearly what’s happened since you arrived here?” He looked to Thea and Carrion. Poor Hetzel.

Thea gave him a rundown of the last eleven hours, starting with our arrival in Dewport and ending with us back at the Beagle where I’d just started the first signs of whatever this was.

“I need to see them. How many are sick?”

“Three when we left; maybe four now. But assuming this only affects divine casters, no more than four.”

“If you turn out to be evil, I’m gonna kill you. Just so you know.” Hetzel told him bluntly.

“Fair enough,” he replied. “But I walk with faith in a god who will lead us out of this.”

“Well,” Hetzel said in all seriousness, “if you can’t trust crazy men you find on the street, who can you trust?”

Leaving the square, the man picked up a battered hat in which passerby had tossed coins for this street preacher. Passing a beggar, he set the whole lot down in front of them and walked on, unconcerned.

Returning to the Drowned Beagle, Carrion knocked on the door using a secret knock Fuego had taught him. Apparently he forgot there was a window Fuego could look out of and see who it was. But it made him feel special.

#### *Curse or Cure*

We looked up as the group entered with a man. He looked dirty, but not exactly unclean. There was no discernable odor or aroma about him. He definitely wasn’t what we were expecting. The four of us look concerningly at each other, askance at him, and questioningly at those that had brought him back.

“Who is this?” Jinx asked.

“We found him yelling in the street,” Hetzel said.

“So you brought him back here?” Ruinfea asked incredulously.

I sighed. “In fairness, that seems to be how we all kinda met in the first place . . .”

“What’s your name?” Fuego inquired.

He paused for a second. “You can call me Tearsson,” he informed us. “It’s not my given name, but it’s the one that’s most fitting. Now, to my business. How long have you all been ill?”

I shrugged. “Me? Forty-five minutes. Maybe an hour? I started feeling poorly just before the left to find help. Rylan and Fuego have had it longer.”

Fuego and Rylan talked things through trying to figure out exactly how long they’d felt sick, finally settling on ten or eleven hours.

Tearsson strode over to Fuego and firmly grasped his head and began turning it in all directions. Fuego didn’t resist Tearsson’s examination as he poked and prodded his neck and arms and peered into his eyes.

Then he nodded abruptly and walked over to Rylan.

“Now wait a minute,” Rylan protested. “What exactly are you doing? I’m the kind of patient that likes to know exactly what’s going on.”

“I’m looking for more evolved infection,” Tearsson began.

“Oh, so you’re looking to see if I’ve started sprouting ruby crystals or have a particular glint in my eye that would indicate I’m turning into a demon,” Rylan said.

“Ah, so you are familiar with the disease!” Tearsson exclaimed, with perhaps a bit more happiness than was called for.

“Familiar enough to know it’s going to kill me if something isn’t done soon,” he countered. “What’s your background with all this anyway?”

“Well, I used to be a doctor,”

“Used to??” Ruinfea exclaimed.

“Let me guess,” Rylan offered. “You used to be a doctor until you had a falling out with your other doctor friends over some ethical dilemmas . . .”

“Oh, nothing quite like that. The glint in his eye went out and he became more somber. There was a tragedy and I lost everything . . .”

“All right,” Rylan was slightly more empathetic now. “What about your specific knowledge of this disease?”

“Well, the weeping man with red vines comes to me and tells me what’s wrong and what needs to be done.”

Rylan looked extremely thoughtful for a moment as he considered the man’s appearance, his erratic behavior, and what he’d just said.

“The Crying God,” he said softly. “You follow Ilmater, don’t you? All right then. Your god and mine are friends, so that makes me feel a bit better.” He may have felt better, but he still deadeyed Carrion.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, do any of you have a copper pot?”

Jinx disappeared. Whether it was to look for a pot or because she was overwhelmed by Tearsson I couldn’t tell.

“Is the pot part of the treatment?” Rylan asked.

“Yes. Now, give me your face.”

“Are you gonna smash it with the pot?” Hetzel asked.

“No,” he said as he began pinching and prodding Rylan. As Rylan lacked Fuego’s scales, it was a much more physical process.

After a few minutes he stopped.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, and promptly turned towards me.

“I’m sorry, what?” Fuego and Rylan exclaimed at once.

“Oh, the infection hasn’t spread much and is perfectly treatable. I just know you’ve been through a lot these last few hours, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Look, you have to tell the whole thing if you’re going to say something like that,” Fuego chided him. “Saying things like that could give someone a heart attack. Or cause someone to launch a fireball.”

Tearsson chuckled. He pulled back some of his long hair to show a scar on the back of his head – the obvious result of a burn. “Yes, you’re right about that. But I can never quite remember to say so.”

Standing about six-foot-four, he was nearly twice my size. He dropped to his knees with force. It seemed to hurt, but he gave no indication of it. He gave me the same going over as the others: eyes, head, neck, and arms. He gently moved my handwrap. The mark on my hand definitely didn’t like being touched, but as soon as he moved off it, the unpleasant feeling went away. If he felt anything from it, he didn’t let on.

“I’m very pleased,” he told us. “You three most definitely won’t die from this.”

“But what about turning into demons?” Thea asked.

“That’s what the pot is for. The pot and some alone time is all I need.”

“Wait. What are you going to put in the pot?” Ruinfea asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What will you do with it?”

“It’s unclear at this point in time.”

“How long will it take?”

“That depends on many things.”

Rylan was particularly unsatisfied with Tearsson’s answers.

“He’s going to pee on me to see if I have demonic pupae . . .” Rylan muttered.

“I promise you there’ll be no pee,” Tearsson tried to assuage him. “Just have a little faith.”

At that, Rylan began shaking and Fuego looked disgusted. Torm and Fire Tits had done a number on them. As for me,

“Gods know I try, but it’s just been so hard lately, you know?”

Thea, meanwhile, went to find Jinx. She was in a back room, curled on the floor and tightly holding a copper pot.

“Jinx, if something happens to your pot we’ll get you a new one,” Thea told her.

“Not worried about pot; worried about you!” Jinx exclaimed.

“I’m worried about us, too. Fact is, we’re desperate.”

Thea took the pot from Jinx, and they returned just in time to hear Tearsson tell us,

“All I’m asking is that you have a little faith.”

“Is there someplace he can go that we can still keep an eye on him?” asked Ruinfea.

“There’s the upstairs rooms, but they have windows,” Jinx replies. “The attic?”

Coddling the pot like a child, Tearsson climbed the stairs to the attic. A few of us followed and listened at the door. There is, after all, a difference between faith and trust.

A gentle, whispering murmur came from behind the door, gradually growing into a low crying. After a few minutes there was a slight pause, no longer than thirty seconds, and then whispering began again. A few minutes later, and Tearsson walked out with the pot.

“If you’re sensitive to cold, please drink with caution,” he told us.

The pot was now coated with a thin layer of ice, like a window on a cool fall morning, and it was now filled with a clear liquid. Rylan took the pot, albeit begrudgingly.

“How much of this do we need to drink?” he asked.

“Divide it equally among you and drink to your health!’ Tearsson replied somewhat jollily.

We looked at him.

“Get it? Your health? See what I did there?

We continued looking at him.

Tearsson sighed. “I was only trying to ease the tension . . .”

We went downstairs, where Rylan divided the liquid evenly into three glasses. We took them and glanced at each other.

“Here goes nothing . . .”

“Bottoms up . . .”

“Cheers . . .”

It was water, and it went down refreshingly. It was mostly tasteless, but also somewhat minerally, like a natural spring. I could feel it entering my veins, branching out with each heartbeat. The malaise and general feeling of unwellness lifted. Within thirteen heartbeats, I felt perfectly fine.

Tearsson watched this with utter delight.

“What’s the catch?” asked Fuego.

“Catch?”

“The catch. Your grinning.”

“I think he’s just happy it worked,” Rylan pointed out.

“So is this temporary, or . . .” Fuego’s voice trailed off. I can’t blame him for being suspicious, what with Fire Tits and all.

“Oh, it’s permanent! You’re cured.”

“But what was the cost?” Rylan asked him, concerned.

“Let’s not talk about this,” Tearsson said, trying to mask his unease.

Sensing this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, we thanked him.

Rylan and Tearsson began discussing how best to cure everyone in town that may have been affected. Tearsson suggested blessing the water supply, but Rylan pointed out that, given the nature of Tearsson’s blessing, the process would kill him, and then who would be left to help the town?

“Ah, some other hero would rise. It’s not like anyone here listened to me anyway . . .”

“Hetzel listened to you,” Rylan pointed out.

“Yes, there is that.” Tearsson looked thoughtful. “And I’ve thought about this before, and every time I do, the voices tell me ‘no’.”

“So who do we talk to?”

“The Council of Merchants or the People of Valkur and Umberly,” Jinx replied.

“Oh gods. Not again. More corruption.”

We filled Tearsson in on the events of Little Grove and Spriggan, and Rylan waxed eloquent on the hypocrisy of royals and religious orders. He didn’t shy away from incriminating his own mother, and I backed him up on the utter rot in the Order of Oghma.

Oghma. I’d done a lot of talking, but it didn’t seem like he was saying much in reply. Rylan seemed to think he was ambivalent about us at the moment.

As he listened, Tearsson lay on the floor and began scratching War Pig between the eyes. Looks like he’d made another friend.

In the end, it was decided to meet with the Council.

“The Council meets in the morning,” Jinx informed us. “Tonight, it’s a good idea to sleep in shifts.”

As we discussed how best to split up our schedule, Ruinfea checked on Chewie while Thea took out the last of Jii’s worms. It was now about seven inches around and eight inches long, and was quickly outgrowing its jar.

Although it had no eyes, it turned toward Thea and let out a happy “EEP! EEP!”

“What do I feed this?” she asked.

“How ‘bout some beef wellington?” Rylan suggested.

Hearing Rylan now, the worm turned toward him and also let out a happy “EEP! EEP!”

Thea cut off a slice of beef wellington and dropped it in the jar. A large mouth, nearly the size of its body opened and tiny razor sharp prehensile teeth moved the food inside.

“Teeth! It has teeth!” Ruinfea shouted in a mix of shock and surprise and yes, even joy. She began talking to the worm as Thea quickly shut the lid.

Muffled “EEP! EEP!” came from inside.

“Aww. He doesn’t like it. He needs something bigger,” Ruinfea said sadly.

“Well get him a bigger habitat soon, I promise,” Rylan quickly assured her.

“He needs a name,” Ruinfea continued.

“No, don’t do that,” Thea and Rylan protested, but it was too late. The thought had already taken hold.

“Well, he absorbed the other worms,” she mused, “so now he’s Absorbotron, or Zorbie for short.”

“Oh great,” Rylan muttered. “Now she’s given it a name and we’ll have to deal with that at some point or another.”

Leave it to Ruinfea to attach herself to a strange creature. She’d have enough for her own menagerie if we weren’t careful.

Thankfully, the night passed without incident. Those of the elvish persuasion, not needing to sleep, took all the watches.

Jinx took it upon herself to wake the rest of us come morning.

Rylan thought it odd we didn’t hear anything, particularly since the disease should have been ravaging every divine caster in the city, but poking his head outside he smelled that strange incense on the air. The wind had worked in our favor and, if anyone was infected, the effects were being kept at bay. He also knew this couldn’t last.

Tearsson still slept, exhausted and curled into a corner. Fuego and Rylan and Jinx looked at him puzzlingly.

I took it upon myself to wake him. I prodded him, and he jerked awake. He glanced around fearfully, but then seemed to remember where he was.

“How long was I out for?” he asked.

“Six, seven hours,” I replied.

“Long enough, then. All right, what do you want  me to do?”

“Take a bath,” Thea suggested not unkindly. “We’re going to talk to some important people, after all.”

Treasson nodded in affirmation and walked straight out the door.

“Now why didn’t he just stay here?” wondered Ruinfea.

“Who knows?” retorted Hetzel.

“Should we follow him?” asked Fuego.

“No, I’m fairly certain that’s not necessary,” Rylan told him.

We changed into our going-to-court clothes (those of us that had them) and as we finished Tearsson came back, fully clothed and entirely drenched.

“Don’t tell me you bathed in a puddle,” Ruinfea sighed.

“Of course not!”

“Good.”

“I used the public fountain.”

Thea found him a towel to dry off while Fuego searched for some more suitable clothing. He found something that looked like Tearsson’s size, but it wasn’t exactly men’s robes . . . it was a woman’s dress.

“I know they’re not your style, but they at least look a little better . . .” Fuego began.

“I like what I’ve got on . . .”

“But you can’t . . .” Ruinfea protested

“She’s right,” Feugo added. “We’re going to see the Council, and like it or not, they may judge us by how we look. We’ve got to keep up appearances. Know what I mean?”

“You know what? You’ve persuaded me,” Tearsson declared, taking the clothes from Fuego and whirling away into one of the rooms.

He returned shortly. The dress revealed a small body; red cords showed through the material.

“You know? I think this suits me after all.”

“Now your hair,” proclaimed Thea. “Don’t worry,” she continued, seeing his look of horror, “I wouldn’t dream of cutting or trimming your hair without your express permission.”

She tied his hair up with string.

“How does it look? Better??” he asked.

“Presentable,” Thea responded.

Jinx, too, had disappeared. Now she came back, also in nicer clothes, and jangling a set of keys. It was clear she intended to come with us.

“I like how this makes my butt feel!” Tearsson exclaimed.

And with that declaration, we headed out.

#### *Council and Conspirators*

There appears to be no permanent council house in Dewport; rather, it seems to rotate as do its members. Today, the council met in the warehouse district, not far from where we’d met Haidrin.

Groups of citizens gathered and chatted, and no one seemed to pay us any mind whatsoever. A herald rang a handbell to call the meeting to order. Jinx led us inside, signing her name as the citizen bringing information before the council.

“What information do you bring?” the herald asked.

“Knowledge of a potential hazard,” Rylan replied vaguely.

“Biological or magical?”

“Little from column A, some from column B,” said Fuego.

Rylan tried to argue the nuances of the threat without actually revealing everything up front. No sense in starting a panic before its time, right?

Eventually Rylan pulled the diplomat card. At the mention of House Menzoberazzean, the herald finally stopped questioning us and let us be seated. Not that it helped, as the size of our group attracted a fair bit of attention.

The three-person council consisted of a high elf woman, a human (or at least humanoid) man, and a dragonborn woman. They heard several cases before calling Jinx’s name.

In a voice reminiscent of the empire, she said “I will yield my time to the members of the Third Family, heroes of Little Grove and Spriggan.”

There was much bureaucracy as Rylan argued our case, with the long and short of it coming down to the council asking for proof beyond our say-so.

Rylan also produced the poppet, claiming it was

It was then our guard acquaintance arrived with the RHB, acting under Rylan’s request. However, the truth serum had long worn off and the ropes gave indication of having been moved. It looked like the guard had a rough time with her. Well, at least her vile mouth.

Rylan produced the poppet. When she declared it had been imbued with Fae magic, they visibly recoiled, although with their words they declared they saw nothing wrong with the item.

They also ordered the RHB unbound, despite our protests.

They had been willing to hear us up until the word Fae. Now, though, they seemed to be looking for an excuse to dismiss our claim. They weren’t blaming us . . . yet.

Together, Rylan and I called them out on their hypocrisy and demanded a closed council.

Amazingly, they acquiesced and dismissed everyone, including the RHB, identifying her as “the prisoner.” So at least there’s that.

Everyone stood to leave. Everyone but one man. Looking at him closely, I saw the edges of his body shimmer and shift. A glamour. Several of us must have noticed the same thing: the face of the satyr smiling at the RHB. As they disappeared out of the room, the satyr followed.

“Balls!” exclaimed Rylan and headed for the door.

Thea turned as well, and Ruinfea quickly shifted into her chameleon form and hopped on Thea’s shoulder.

I don’t know how the three of them might handle the RHB and her conspirator, but I also knew we couldn’t just walk out of the council. Having already been introduce as one who had been ill, and being a cleric of Oghma (even if he had been silent), I thought it my duty to stay and talk to the council.

#### *Chasing the Satyr*

As the satyr moved through the crowd outside, Rylan gave pursuit. Whether it was because he was still recovering or because he just didn’t care about appearances at this point, there was little pizazz or athleticism, just an all-out chase. Hetzel sent War Pig after him, too.

Seeing the satyr moving deftly through the crowd, Rylan came to a decision. Reaching up, he pulled Ruinfea from his braid and skillfully tossed her at the fleeing criminal. “I’m gonna yeet the Druid at the motherfucker,” witnesses claim he muttered under his breath. Ruinfea, for her part, must have understood what Rylan intended, for as she soared through the air she changed from chameleon-danger-lizard to dire wolf. She hit the satyr at the same time War Pig arrived; together, they took out his knees and knocked the wind out of him. He crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs: his own and Ruinfea’s and War Pig’s, but he was on the bottom with Ruinfea sitting on his chest and War Pig with his hooves on his shoulders.

As Ruinfea growled at him, the satyr managed to pull a kriss and stab upwards toward War Pig. War Pig, though, wore the best armor of all of us, and it bounced harmlessly off the plate.

Unfortunately for the satyr, it was at this point that Thea and Hetzel and Carrion caught up to them. Seeing his stab at War Pig, Hetzel raged. Rylan, too, went into a frenzy and stabbed at him, knocking him unconscious and dealing a significant amount of damage to the already prone figure. Hetzel charged with Haidrin’s hammer and brought it down on his head. His skull fell apart like an overripe melon.

“Don’t. Stab. My. Pig!” Hetzel screamed.

“Don’t mess with War Pig,” Ruinfea growled.

“Serves you right,” Rylan muttered.

Carrion stared in shock, and the crowd also fell silent as the guards approached.

Meanwhile, Thea felt a pulsing vibration coming from her bag. Opening it, she looked inside to see the lyre, beautiful and well crafted, glowing with moonlight. “I wonder what it sounds like,” she thought to herself, but resisted the urge to play it.

“Guys,” she said, “this lyre’s got a mind of its own . . . it wants to be played, but I do not want to play it. At least, not yet.

The guards finally reached the group.

“Hands where we can see them. You’re all under arrest!”

“It’s okay, the council knows all about this. We’ll be more than happy to go there with you,” Rylan assured them as Ruinfea turned her wolfish head to glare in their direction and War Pig began snuggling up to Hetzel.

“Oh my little baby, are you okay?” she cooed over him.

The guards looked around at Carrion staring in shock, Thea holding a glowing bag, Hetzel hugging an armored boar, and at the dire wolf still sitting on the remains of the satyr. They decided it was best dealing with Rylan, who continued to talk.

“Just take us back to the council and we’ll get this all cleared up. Just get someone to keep an eye on this Fae until something can be done about the street . . .”

At that, the color drained from the guards eyes.

“We . . . we’ll . . .” one of them tried speaking.

“Look just get the guard who helped us with the doll. He knows what’s what.”

“Doll? We don’t know about a doll.” The guard finally found his voice. “Was in in this precinct?”

“A couple of blocks over,” Thea informed him.

“Well, that would explain it. Not our jurisdiction. What we can do for now is close off the streets and shut things down. Keep folks away and the like.”

“Look, we’re just here to help – despite all appearances otherwise. We want to help Dewport just like we helped Little Grove and Spriggan.”

“You’re the Third Family!” another guard exclaimed.

“We’ve got a reputation,” squealed Hetzel excitedly.

“Yes,” replied Rylan. “Let me guess: you’ve got a messy history with the Fae that you can’t talk about. You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head one way or the other.”

The guard inclined his head.

Ruinfea, shaking herself like a dog after a bath, transformed back into herself. “Well, this outfit is bust,” she said ruefully, looking down at the gore-covered clothing.

“I’m sorry; I’ll buy you a new outfit,” Rylan promised. “Hetzel’s hammer of justice knows no mercy, don’t you know.”

“He tried to stab War Pig,” Hetzel said matter-of-factly.

The guards, unsure what to do at this point, followed them back to the council while one stayed behind to deal with the satyr.

#### *Counseling the Council of Dewport*

Meanwhile, Jinx and Fuego and myself had stayed behind to talk to the council. Only a few minutes passed – hardly enough time for introductions let alone any kind of explanation – before the party returned: Rylan appeared unchanged, but Thea carried a visibly glowing and vibrating bag, Ruinfea was covered in viscera, and Hetzel’s hammer dripped blood which changed from red to purple to green as we watched it pool on the floor.

The council looked at us in shock.

“What did you do?”

“The satyr hit the pig,” Thea deadpanned.

“We were going to get him gently,” Rylan promised, “but then he tried to murder one of our party. But don’t worry, we still have the other one and Thea has a shiny new instrument for her repertoire.

The council looked at each other. “O dear gods.”

“Care to explain the connection between Dewport and the Fae now?” Rylan asked somewhat sarcastically, yet also earnestly.

“Who did you kill again?” one of them asked.

“The satyr who infected us with a demonic plague. It was either this or war between Dewport and Menzoberranzan.”

“Oh no,” another one murmured before continuing louder: “That lyre is now ownerless. In theory it can go to anyone who claims it. More often than not it passes to another Fae musician, though I suppose in theory anyone can claim it. I don’t know what the consequences of that would be, though.”

“Well, I’m a musician, though I’m not lautist,” Thea replied. “and I’m part Fae at any rate. Do I claim it?” She looked at us for an answer.

“It’s your call,” Rylan said somewhat uncertainly.

One benefit to having spent a lot of time in a library is having read extensively. The trick is to remember it at the right time. Today my memory would serve me well.

“Technically, even mortals can claim Fae objects or tools, and this lyre would count. There’s usually no negatives when this happens; what does happen is that, over time, the claimant develops a positive connection with the Fae court to which it belongs. But that’s where my knowledge ends; I have no idea to which court this particular lyre belongs. In the end, Rylan’s right. It’s your call.”

Thea claimed the lyre, pulling it up and out of the bag. She felt a warmth and a light settling inside her as she examined the instrument more closely. It was silver with silver strings, and adorned with intertwined female nudes. The look on her face indicated she’d kill anyone who would harm the lyre; I’d seen the same expression on Hetzel in regards to War Pig.

“This lyre’s got some stuff behind it,” she acknowledged.

“I trust you implicitly,” Rylan assured her.

The council continued to state at us, fish-faced with bulging eyes and pursed lips.

“You have questions?” one of them finally asked.

“Do you have answers?” Rylan rejoined.

“To speak on it is to risk our wellbeing . . . Are any of you citizens of Dewport?”

All of us answered in the negative, except for Jinx. In the back, the guards sheepishly raised their hands.

Looking at the guards, the council told them “These fine folks have done nothing wrong today. They are completely innocent of any charges for which you may have thought to arrest them.”

The guards looked relieved.

“And now,” the council continued, “we must ask all citizens of Dewport to leave the room.”

Dutifully, they filed out, Jinx somewhat sadly.

“Don’t worry, Jinx, we’ll catch you up later!” Rylan called out.

“What we say cannot go beyond these walls,” the council began.

“Of course that would be the case,” complained Fuego.

The council ignored him. “Generations ago, Dewport was unsettleable. Between the rough seas, unpredictable weather, and treacherous pirates, there was no order or harmony. Then, the council was approach by those who said they could help us succeed. The council made a deal, and since then, we’ve been prosperous.”

“Deals like that are not to be taken lightly,” Fuego spoke from experience.

“What did you give up?” Rylan asked.

“A tithe,” they began.

“A tithe of what?” I asked, trying to get them to be specific.

“A tithe of abject loyalty,” they finished.

“To who?” queried Rylan.

“What do you know of the Court of Coral?”

Rylan stood for a moment in thought. “I know they’re the Fae Court of the Aquatic, let by the Sea Lords Elias and Siobahn Alastai; they’re siblings, with Elias being the elder. Their parents are dead. The Court of Coral is one of five points of the Seelie Court and is currently in conflict with the Faemorians.”

The council stood in horrified shock at Rylan’s informality.

Rylan attempted to explain his background when the female dragonborn rose to her feet, placed her hands on the table in front of her, and said, “you’re connected with those Lovelocks?”

Rylan sighed. “It’s complicated, but yes.”

She paused for a moment. “Then I feel we should allow you and your . . . organization, your family, to do whatever it is you like in regard to our relationship with the Fae. I feel it’s time for a renegotiation.”

“You mean you want us to fix it?” Rylan asked. “You see, I need you to say the words. The last two places we’ve been have been much too ambivalent about just what it is they want us to do. So while I appreciate your newfound confidence in us, I need you to say the words. And even you saying them won’t fully satisfy me; in my mind something’s only true if Bryn writes it down.”

He turned to look at me and I blushed, trying to make myself even smaller than I already was.

“It’s true though,” he said both to me and to them. “Of everyone I have ever known, Bryn is the only one I think utterly incapable of lying.”

The councilwoman looked at us sincerely. “Yes. Fix it.”

“But what if it gets worse?” the male dragonborn countered. “We’d see the sea turn against us, the pirates return. Would you really risk all that we have?”

“You’re already at risk,” Rylan pointed out. “Someone tried to bring a plague into your city; someone with connections to the Fae. This has consequences beyond Dewport; this will affect the empire.”

“But what about the economy?” The female half-elf objected.

“Demons don’t have a habit of paying,” Hetzel pointed out.

“Unless your currency is baby teeth,” Rylan finished.

“For too long we’ve been taken advantage of by the Fae,” The dragonborn woman rejoined. “It’s time something was done.”

“Good idea,” Fuego supported her.

The council looked at each other, then back at us.

“We can’t order you to do anything, but neither can we stop you, either,” they finally said.

Rylan launched into a tirade on the demon plague; I was obliged to correct her when he said we could be reinfected.

“Tearsson said we were immune, though. I mean, I don’t know about anyone else, but at least you, me, and Fuego can’t catch it again.”

The council now turned their attention to Tearsson and invited him to aid in the recovery and protection of Dewport.

“And will you shut the ports?” Rylan asked.

“Or are you worried about the economy? Ruinfea pricked at them.

“That would be a matter for the Master of Coin,” they began.

“It may also be a matter for my open communique with the emperor,” Rylan countered.

They acquiesced.

I recalled Tearsson’s earlier thoughts on what to do in Dewport. “Don’t kill yourself over this,” I told him.

“I make no promises.”

“Promise,” demanded Hetzel.

“My dear people, to promise against unforeseen harm is to promise against my god . . .”

I knew what Tearsson was saying: he had a duty to perform.

“Look, just remember that you need to be here to protect this town for some time, all right?” Rylan tried to compromise.

We saw the pained look on his face and realized this was the best we were going to get.

We left the council chamber and headed back with Jinx to the Beagle. On the way, we discussed what to do with the Read Haired Bitch. Though she might help us find our way to the Court of Coral, Rylan seemed to think he could find it without her “help”. We decided to leave her in prison.

As we discussed the Court of Coral and the Faewild, our thoughts returned to Fenno’s dreamscape and the treasure we’d pulled from the river god. While most of the stuff had disappeared, a few things remained in Ruinfea’s Bag of Holding.

I suggested now was as good a time as any to see what we had; after all, something might come in handy given our future plans.

We each took turns reaching into the bag and pulling out an item. The gods or luck had us draw the following:

* Fuego – a Scarab of Protection
* Hetzel – a Belt of Stormgiant Strength
* Ruinfea – a Deck of Many Things
* Rylan – a sword called Holy Avenger
* Bryn – a 7-ounce container of Sovereign Glue
* Thea – a Talisman of Ultimate Evil
* Carrion – a cloak of invisibility

Again I was able to recall just enough facts to know what these things were. While most of us were excited, Ruinfea and Thea had cause for pause. The Deck of Many Things is a complicated thing offering blessings and curses, and sometimes even the blessings are curses. In my opinion it should only ever be used as a last resort. Unfortunately, they also work on the mind of their owners – the cards want to be played. Even worse was Thea’s talisman. It could only be used by someone of evil alignment (which none of us were, or Hetzel and her hammer would’ve had something to say about it) and it has devastating effects if it touches anyone good-aligned. Wielded in the wrong hands, it could destroy a person with no hope of escape. Taking care not to touch it, Thea wrapped it in a cloth and then sealed the cloth in a jar.

Again I was able to recall just enough facts to know what these things were. While most of us were excited, Ruinfea and Thea had cause for pause. The Deck of Many Things is a complicated thing offering blessings and curses, and sometimes even the blessings are curses. In my opinion it should only ever be used as a last resort. Unfortunately, they also work on the mind of their owners – the cards want to be played. Even worse was Thea’s talisman. It could only be used by someone of evil alignment (which none of us were, or Hetzel and her hammer would’ve had something to say about it) and it has devastating effects if it touches anyone good-aligned. Wielded in the wrong hands, it could destroy a person with no hope of escape. Taking care not to touch it, Thea wrapped it in a cloth and then sealed the cloth in a jar.

As we discussed the nature of our gifts, we also wondered how they’d come to exist. Had Fenno dreamed them? If so, she’d have to have seen them or read about them – and these were wondrous items. In particular, we were concerned about the talisman. Did her mother Lilith have one? And were the objects connected so that destroying one would destroy the other?

With more questions than answers, we decided to take a short rest. Some spent their time attuning their newly acquired magical items. Thea practiced the lute – and it played perfectly for her. I spent my time praying. Perhaps one day soon Oghma will answer again.

### **The Seelie Court of Coral**

#### *From the Sea*

Having rested long enough to clear our minds, Rylan now attempted to find a pathway to the Court of Coral. Focusing on the scents around him, the sweat and salt of the harbor town gave way to the smell of flowers and rain and sunshine. He looked at us and smiled.

“I’ve got the scent. Literally.”

We headed back toward the docks and straight to one of the ships where people of all shapes and sizes were busy carrying cargo aboard. Giving them a close look, we realized that not a single on of them was not Fae – glamoured Fae, to be sure, but Fae nonetheless.

Rylan scanned the crown for someone who might either carry or receive a message. His eyes settled on a elf woman appearing to be ten to fourteen years old (at least, her glamour looked it) dutifully taking notes of everything that was brought aboard. Rylan waited for the right time to approach her.

Finally, she stuck her quill in her book and closed it with a snap and turned to walk up the gangplank.

“Wait, Miss! Before you go, may I speak to you a moment?”

She turned and looked around, confused. Taking off her glasses and looking in our direction she asked, “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, if you have a moment.”

She hesitated.

“I promise it won’t be long . . .”

She came over. “All right, what’s all this then?”

“We seek an audience with Elias and Siobahn.”

“The Lords . . .”

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble . . .”

“What makes you think I can help?”

“You look the most capable, for a start.”

She looked at Rylan and gave him a slight smile. “Well, you certainly look interesting, but as for the rest of you . . . I don’t really know you, now do I?”

“We’re friends of Jii . . .”

She paused for a moment. “The name is not unfamiliar to me. He has – had – a certain reputation. But . . .”

“We returned him to The Traveler,” Rylan said quietly, pulling out one of Jii’s personal daggers and showing it to her.

“I wouldn’t mention that name too loudly around here,” the woman replied. “But if you are who you say you are . . . Come aboard. I can at least get you in the same room as the captain.”

“That’s all I was expecting; thank you.”

“We appreciate it,” Fuego assured her.

She led us up the gangplank, on deck, then aft to the captain’s quarters, where she gave a short knock.

“Remora, is that you?”

“Yes, I’ve brought the shipment details,” she replied, giving us a wink.

Opening the door and leading us inside, she continued: “and I have people with me who wish to speak to you.”

The captain stood at a table looking over a map littered with navigational instruments. A gnoll stood by his side. He looked at us and then at the Fae woman who’d brought us into his presence.

“Remora, are you playing tricks on me again?” he questioned somewhat playfully.

“No, no tricks. These papers are important, and these fine people were on their way here anyway!” She laughed her apology, then turned to leave.

“You must be interesting for her to trick you in here . . .” he told us.

I wondered for a brief moment who’d been tricked: us or him.

“We would speak with Elias and Siobahn,” Rylan began.

“The Sea Lords. Why?”

“Something is affecting Dewport, and it may affect the Court as well. Is any member of your crew a divine caster who happened to go ashore today?”

The captain looked thoughtful. “Elias gave me strict orders: no one was to go ashore today. Should I be worried?”

“Potentially . . .”

“Look, I get my orders straight from Elias . . .”

“And I’m not here to complicate things, only smooth them out.”

“I can get you to the court. And in return?”

After a brief back-and-forth, it appeared Rylan had agreed to some sort of personal trade deal between House Menzoberranzan and the captain. Rylan also appeared to have been smitten by the captain’s admittedly good looks. They sealed the deal with a handshake.

The captain smiled at us. “Do any of you get seasick?”

We looked at each other. None of us had ever been to sea before. Hetzel in particular seemed worried.

The captain, along with his steward, a bluish winged creature named Bramble, showed us to our quarters.

“I assume you will join me for dinner?”

We couldn’t tell if this was directed at all of us or at Rylan in particular.

Rylan nodded.

“And what am I permitted to call you?”

“Rylan”

“Fuego”

“Ruinfea”

“Hetzel”

“Carrion”

“Thea”

“Bryn”

“And you may know me as Captain Loray Lorhalien. Welcome aboard the Djinn’s Wish.”

He closed the door behind him and we looked around our rooms.

Ornate partitions separated comfortable mattresses, while hammock hooks were placed strategically along the walls.

I’d never been to sea, but I’d talked to a few people who had.

“If I were you,” I told the group, “I’d take the hammocks.”

At that moment a bell rang and the anchors began to lift. We went above decks to watch the casting off, and Rylan used the opportunity to send a raven off to Tiago. I can only imagine what it said. “Dear Tiago, I’ve gone and done something else incredibly foolish . . .” No, it was probably more tactful than that.

A blue skinned elf with grey hair called the orders, and the Fae crew worked as a well-oiled mechanism to cast the ship into the deep as if by magic.

I decided to wander about the ship and see if anyone will tell a tale or sing a shanty she can write down - while staying as safe as possible, of course.

Rylan was up on deck, perched on whatever bit of ropes and rigging he’d been allowed to climb up on; taking in everything from the comings and goings of the crew, the waves, and anything beneath the surface that caught his eye.

Ruinfea found some extra fabrics and such lying around to create a more appropriate outfit for the journey.

Thea chose a spot on the deck, out of the way. She took out her new lyre and tinkered with it. Her usual lute sat beside her.

Fuego found a spot on the main deck to lean back and watch the ocean. He could not recall ever seeing so much water.

As the Djinn’s Wish entered deeper waters, she began to sway and lurch. Rylan proved himself a definite underground creature by becoming seasick. Thea soon joined him. With their stomachs lurching and no sign of it improving, Rylan attempted to whip up a potion that would settle both their stomachs. Handing a bottle to Thea, he also looked around for two mustard seeds. Finding some, he taped one each behind their ears.

“Anytime you feel nauseous,” he explained to Thea, “just push the seed.”

Thea began pushing the seed with all her might.

The capable crew steered us out into deeper waters, with the deep night-purple ocean turned to blues and cyan in our wake.

Stowing her belongings, Ruinfea’s deck of cards fell onto the floor. She began shuffling them in her hands as she went topside. Seeing a deckhand, she called out

“Hey, Charlie! Wanna play a game? These cards look pretty cool!”

“Charlie” took a look at Ruinfea, a longer look at the deck she held in her hands, and replied brusquely, “No, absolutely not! In fact, don’t even talk to me, you strange lady. I am not playing with that deck!”

“Why not? What do you know about this deck?”

Charlie shook his head. “I don’t think you’d want to know . . .” and he scarpered off.

Seeing the exchange, Hetzel wandered over.

“I’ll teach you Dwarven Spoons and we can hit things!” she suggested to Ruinfea. “It’s fun, and sometimes you even get to slap each other!!”

Hetzel pulled a card out of the deck and stared down at a crumbling tower as a sense of ruin and material loss swept over her. The card turned to ash, which in turn was blown away by the wind.

“Well, that sure was a downer. I don’t know who’d want to play with a deck like that . . .”

Ruinfea shrugged. “Beats me. But now I’m bored. I wonder where Charlie went . . .” She looked around, but Charlie was nowhere to be seen.

Captain Lorhalien reappeared, and repeated his invitation to dinner.

Thea and Rylan turned green again.

“I don’t want to, but I’ve got to,” Rylan muttered, a determined look on his face.

“Hetzel, ready to eat?” Ruinfea asked.

“Gods yes!”

We made our way back to the captain’s quarters, arriving together to find Lorhalien dressed similar to when we’d left him, except now his frock coat, though similar in fabrication, was made of silk and edged in silver.  A table was set with a variety of fresh fruits and meats and nuts and a large pot of leek and potato soup – decidedly different from what I’d heard of typical oceangoing fare.

I headed for the cheese, while Fuego took a but of everything yet focused in on the meats.

Thea, though, kept her wits about her even if her stomach wouldn’t listen to reason.

Taking a sip of her medicinal flask, she asked Rylan, “So, you think this stuff’s safe to eat?”

Ruinfea started in on the soup.

“I think so,” Rylan replied, hesitantly.

Thea looked the food over for enchantments before nodding. “Seems safe to me,” she concluded.

“I apologize I have no sangria to offer you,” Lorhalien informed Rylan as he ladled himself a bowl of soup and began assembling a personal charcuterie.

“I’d like to ask the group of you what interest you have in saving Dewport . . .”

“Not just Dewport,” Rylan said with a mouth full of meat and cheese, “It’s pretty much the entire material plane.”

“Yeah, and we live on that material plane!” Hetzel exclaimed.

“And it also seems to be the right thing to do,” Fuego explained. “I mean, why not?”

“There are other planes,” Lorhalien began before Rylan cut him off.

“This affects not just the material world, but other planes as well.”

“Well, it can’t go everywhere, whatever it is,” Lorhalien scoffed.

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” I rejoined.

Lorhalien looked thoughtful for a moment.

“What do you have to offer in exchange for your . . . service to the court?”

“I’d think one’s life would be payment enough.” Rylan countered.

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” Lorhalien replied with a smirk in my direction.  “The Sea Lords are not like the others. They are used to living on the borders.”

“That’s why they’re targets.”

“Well, ignoring the Sea Lords for just a moment, I must admit my invitation wasn’t entirely selfless.”

“Ok, just tell us what you want.” I said, exasperated.

“What do you mean?” Fuego asked suspiciously.

“I assume you are not familiar with the Fae Courts. Tell me, what do you know about the various courts?”

“Your voice indicated what we do know is likely propaganda,” Rylan said accusingly.

“I am originally one of the gloaming Fae,” Lorhalien explained.

None of us, it seems, knew a great deal about the Gloaming, but it seems each of us had heard something. Piecing things together, we concluded that gloaming Fae dealt with dreams and darkness and twilight and dusk, including the darker shades of night found in nightmares. They owe allegiance to an Archfey rather than a god, and in that they are different from the rest of the Fae. They also hate lycanthropes.

“But if that’s where you came from, why leave dreams for the sea?” Rylan asked.

“I did it for love.”

We looked at each other and then at him.

“No, not that. It was my sister Valendra who followed her own desires in court politics and had, shall we say, interesting relationships with a variety of peoples, particularly the dark elves.

Rylan looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve heard of your sister. I believe she was connected with the Drow assassin Syndrina Melarn. Together, they tried to connect the Faewild with the Underdark. The plan failed for debatable reasons: desire, Loth, the Archfey – take your pick. So that name rings a loud, cacophonous bell. I mean I’m lucky in that I follow Torm, but that was an accident.”

“I need you to find her and see how she is. I haven’t heard from her in about two weeks, and my asking after her might raise the suspicions of the wrong people.”

“Is there a chance she’s irritated someone else?”

“Certainly. She and I have different skills with our tongues, after all.”

“Who?”

“Well, perhaps the Court of Coral itself. The last I heard from her, she was the personal assassin to Siobhan.”

Rylan resisted the urge to pace. It would not end well if pacing began.

“I know her professionally. We’re not exactly friends, but we definitely aren’t enemies. That could make for an awkward meeting. I wonder if she’s somehow connected to the Hollow Company?”

“Well now, that name rings a bit of a bell” Lorhalien replied. “They often asked me to work for them carrying certain crates and goods. Never did though.”

Lorhalien appeared dismissive of the whole matter.

“Of course, I can’t speak for the crew individually, but I’d like to think they’d have followed my example. We’ve been together over ten years, and I myself have captained the Djinn’s Wish for four hundred years.”

Ruinfea wondered (to herself) just how old Lorhalien was, exactly.

“I promise painful, permanent discipline on any of my crew who may have aided them,” he finished.

“All this is much too convenient,” Rylan said. “Everywhere we go we’re either just in time to stop something bad from happening, or just in time to prevent the worst of consequences from taking hold. They’re always two steps ahead, and that shouldn’t be possible. We literally boarded the Djinn’s Wish on a whim, and here we are about to be caught up in their machinations once more.”

“Well, there’s only two ways information is getting out,” Lorhalien offered. “either you’re being followed, or someone is a traitor.”

“Well, we know for a certainty no one here is a traitor,” The countered

“So that leaves us with being followed. How would we discover their method, I wonder?” Fuego mused.

“It could be like this play I saw back home,” Hetzel offered. “It was called Marble: Endgame. Perhaps our future selves are messing with us!”

Rylan looked concerned and appeared to give more credence to this theory than I thought permissible. “I think it’s something more mundane,” he said. Then glancing carefully about the room, his eyes lit on a spider finishing a web. Taking a stein from the table, he swiftly captured the creature.

“My family used to do this all the time. One of them was a cleric of Loth and was quite skilled at it too: they got their enemies to destroy each other using nothing but the information she gained from spiders.”

“So how do we tell if this is a regular spider or a spying spider?” Thea and I asked together.

“Well, back home we’d just squash it and listen for the screaming,” Rylan replied nonchalantly.

“So then it’s owner would know we’re on to it,” I pointed out.

“Back home it can be capital punishment to purposefully kill a spider,” Rylan said. “But I’m not saying one of you couldn’t do it . . . Bryn, you recall why I killed the owls from reaching the First Blade? This is the same thing.”

“Maybe War Pig can track where the spider has been!” Hetzel suggested enthusiastically.

“What is a War Pig?” asked Lorhalien.

“War Pig isn’t a what, War Pig’s a he!” Hetzel exclaimed defensively.

“And he is a valuable member of our party,” continued Fuego.

“And he wears the best armor,” proffered Thea

“And eats mushrooms,” said Ruinfea

“And is currently asleep in a hammock as beset we know,” I concluded.

“I myself have my own unique skills,” Lorhalien offered. “Namely: leadership, mercantileship, and rutting.”

“Now we know how you use your tongue,” I said, but the comment seemed to have gone unheard.

“And I, too, have my own particular skills we may use to track whoever is spying on us. Might I use them?”

Lorhalien nodded his assent.

We decided to split the party. Rylan and Thea and Carrion would go in search of whoever might be spying on us, while Ruinfea used her speak to animals skill to talk to the thing. Fuego and I would stay with her. Given a choice, Hetzel chose to say with us in case she needed to get War Pig for any additional tracking.

As Thea and Carrion and Rylan left, Ruinfea opened the stein and began to talk to the spider trapped inside, translating as she went.

“Help me! Help me!”

“I don’t blame you for being upset, you awesome dude . . . lady . . . thing.”

“Let me out!”

“Just answer a few questions and I’ll let you go.”

“Please let me out; what do you want?”

“How’d you get on the ship?”

“First I walked, then I flew on the wind!”

“On wood, like a crate?”

“Yes, it was nice and dark and cozy.”

“What was there before the crate?”

“Another crate where I was born.”

“That’s sad.”

“Sad? I liked it! So many bugs . . .”

“And webs?”

“Webs are the best. Webs are home.”

“Where have you been other than right here?”

“Many places. This is big but very few flies.”

“Did you see a pig?”

“Yes, but his skin looked shiny and he had no flies.”

“Does anyone ever talk to you? Besides yelling, that is.”

“Oh yes.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. They don’t often ask things, more like tell me things.”

“Things like what?”

“Oh, to walk and stop and look a listen. There used to be so many of us, but now I’m the last. But that’s alright because now I’m the egg sac. They always talk to be now”

“Explain the egg sac.”

“I carry life. A lot of little squirmy life. I am not a mother, but I feed them.”

“What’s the last thing you were told to do?”

“Listen.”

“Explain this life . . .”

“Many little brains squirm inside me.”

“Shit,” I exclaimed, putting some pieces together at last. “The spider’s host to mindflayers or Ilithids. It’s kind of like a tadpole who takes over a creature’s mind in a kind of possession. When it reaches full maturity, it’s a violent birth. Inside a spider like this, there’s little chance of a mindflayer surviving that process.”

Meanwhile, outside, the crew was singing night shanties as Rylan climbed the mast with Thea and Carrion close behind. As the neared the crows’ nest – which would appear to fit three snugly – Rylan noticed the outline of a person standing at the ready, yet with an air of unease and uncertainty.

Rylan put out a hand to hold Thea and Carrion back before boosting himself through the opening and found himself – halfway through staring at the face of a dead man: his hollow eyes and slack jaw the result of a purplish gash in his neck.

Rylan reached back down for the rope to beat a hasty retreat, but just then the figure turned, apparently listening for sound. As he watched, Rylan saw something silvery enter the man’s eye.

He changed his mind. Shouting “Get the body!” to Carrion and Thea, Rylan jumped and charged the man in the nest and taking him over the side.

“Well, shit,” said Thea as she and Carrion tried to throw the dead man over the side. It soon became apparent this was unlikely. Thea kicked at the corpse, sending it tumbling out the crows’ nest. Carrion jumped down after him, performing what I’ve come to understand is a reverse feather fall, causing both him and the body to gently float to the deck.

“This stuff’s icky and it’s getting on my cloak,” Carrion moaned.

Rylan, meanwhile, managed to control the grapple on the living man he’d taken out of the nest, crashing to the deck with a cry of “Captain, I’ve found your mole!” and causing an uproar from the assembled crew.

Those of us inside heard the crash and ran outside.

Rylan felt the man’s bones break and heard the last gurgle before death. Then the man turned his head to look at Rylan, opened his mouth, and hissed dreadfully. A pressure seemed to build behind his eyes just before a small, silvery tadpole burst out and inched toward Rylan.

“Get away from him! Get away from him!” I screamed.

Rylan leapt back, and the thing began following.

“Kill it!” Ruinfea shouted.

“Should we put it in a jar?” Hetzel asked.

“No. Kill it!” Ruinfea and I repeated together.

As Ruinfea and Fuego and I prepared to fight a silvery tadpole, Hetzel simply walked over and squished it with her foot, grinding her heel into the deck for good measure.

At this moment, Carrion arrived, floating down with his arms wrapped tightly around a corpse.

Lorhalien looked aghast

“The good news is we found your mole; the bad news is you had a mole,” Rylan told him, standing to his feet.

Lorhalien’s look grew serious as he made direct eye contact with Rylan.

“You saved my life.”

“Also, we need to check on that spider in the stein,” Rylan said.

“Oh, the spider told us everything,” I said. “That’s how I knew to warn you.”

“Right,” Rylan responded, “But what about the thing or things controlling the spider?”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, you’re right.”

“No worries. You bring smarts and cleverness; I bring bold, decisive action. It’s why we work so well!” He flashed me a smile. “That spider was an attempted attack on you, your ship, and your crew.” Rylan said, turning back to Lorhalien.

“I’ll see you all in my study,” Lorhalien said.

“Wait! What do we do with these bodies?” Thea asked?

Lorhalien paused. “Deckmen! Lay them out. Say there was a disagreement, but tell no outright lies. Spread them out.

“And if you see anything inch or squirm on the deck, kill it.” Rylan and I said together.

In Lorhalien quarters, Thea pulled out Zorbie while Lorhalien locked the doors and windows.

Thea opened the stein and looked inside, seeing a dead spider and several unmoving worms.

“Should I feed them to my worm?” she asked.

She pulled out Zorbie and we all looked at him in his glass jar, lethargic yet squirming slightly.

Fuego began putting more pieces together, from Adrian back in Spriggan to our current situation. “This is how things are connected. The mindflayers reproduce with many worms connected to a kind of hive mind. Their goal is to develop and hatch. They fuse into one creature before erupting (literally) into adulthood, connecting them with the mother brain. The mindflayers as a race are a dominate race with many relations with underdark creatures. And we’ve been carrying this thing all this time? If the worms in a spider could pass on information, than what about . . . him.?”

Lorhalien paced. “I, too, have vital questions.”

“Ask away,” said Rylan

“And we’ll answer to the best of our ability,” I finished.

“How many people can these things infect?”

“One per worm is what we’ve seen.”

“Likelihood of infection?”

“High”

“Possibility of saving an infected crewman?”

“Depends on how long they’ve been infected. Once the worm reaches the brain, it’s over.”

Rylan and Fuego and I answered him.

“We need to move fast, but how do we find them?” Hetzel remarked.

“It’s all about the wounds,” Rylan said. If we can examine the crew for wounds – or perhaps irritated tear ducts, ear canals, and nasal passages – we might be able to determine if any more are aboard.

“Oh, I hope Charlie is okay,” Ruinfea said, concerned.

“I can ring the storm bell to gather the crew,” Lorhalien suggested, “but I also insist you check me first.”

Rylan checked his eyes, ears, nose, and throat before giving him the once over. “No guarantees. You’re cute, but not ‘I trust you implicitly’ cute.”

“Do I have to have an audience?”

Ruinfea and Fuego and Carrion and Hetzel left, but I chose to remain with Rylan – just in case. But I also faced the wall, because I have some decency. Thea, too, chose to stay with Rylan.

“Bryn, can you take notes for me?” Rylan asked. “That way we can just run a checklist against the ship’s manifest.”

I did, and Rylan soon pronounced Lorhalien clear.

“Let’s get everyone together,” I said.

Lorhalien nodded and stepped outside and began ringing a nearby bell. The crew gathered, albeit sporadically. The captain had called for all hands, but apparently did not indicate how quickly they were to assemble.

“Some of you are already aware there has been death on board. This death is due to dissension and infiltration. To curb further incursions against our vessel, I have instructed the members of the party known as the Third Family to investigate the matter how they see fit. If they ask you to do something, do it as if you were obeying an order from me. Disobedience will not be tolerated.”

Turning to us, he handed Rylan a fifty-person contract list. The first name was Remora, the one who had kindly brought us on board. Rylan and Thea began to check her over as I took notes. Remora raised her eyebrows while Rylan apologized for the invasiveness and explained the process.

“Rest assured Captain Lorhalien has already undergone the same process. He has not asked you to do anything he himself will not do.”

“Do the deed.” Remora said, somewhat resignedly.

There were no problems, though the crew stirred when the examination became more . . . personal. But she was clear, and I made a mark on my sheet.

The quartermaster, who we now knew as Saffron, was next. Again, he was clear. We made our way through the list with no on else apparently affected.

Rylan and Ruinfea now contemplated using Zorbie as a worm detector.

Thea snagged some meat from the table for Zorbie and opened the jar to feed him.

Lorhalien pulled Remora aside. “I know about the other individual. Make sure he comes forward, too.”

As a body, we turned to stare him down.

Remora quickly returned with someone big, blue, and familiar behind her.

“Haidrin!” exclaimed Hetzel.

“I call bullshit,” said Rylan. “There’s no way Jinx would tell us he’d be out for a while only to have him appear here, on this ship with us. I call glamour.”

“I apologize for revealing you,” Lorhalien told the maybe-Haidrin. “but I believe they need to check you. It appears you are already acquainted with each other?”

“Unfortunately,” Haidrin replied.

“I’m not convinced. Tell me something only Haidrin would know,” Rylan demanded.

“We fought a box in a warehouse.”

“Yep, that’s our Haidrin all right!” Rylan said, convinced.

“This man came to me and said he’d been attacked and needed to lie low for a bit . . .”

Hetzel walked up to Haidrin, “Here’s your hammer back! Don’t worry though, I cleaned most of the gunk off already.”

“You two get squared away?” He asked Fuego and Rylan. I didn’t take offense, I took sick after he was laid low and only suffered for an hour or so.

“Yes, and now we’re trying to help others,” Fuego replied.

Lorhalien filled him in on what was happening on board the Djinn’s Wish.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you came and got me,” Haidrin said to Lorhalien.

Meanwhile, Thea had opened Zorbie’s jar and then just . . . stayed there. As he inched closer to her, her eyes glazed over and her hand fell slack. The meat fell in, drawing Zorbie’s attention. As he turned away, Thea came back to her senses.

“What happened to you?” Rylan demanded to know.

“I was home. I saw my mom and my dad . . . but then a worm showed up and . . .”

Rylan explained to Thea what was happening and how she’d nearly become food for a mindflayer while Fuego caught Haidrin up to speed.

Carrion joined Fuego and Haidrin in debating the merits of nature vs nurture and Zorbie’s connection to the hive mind while Thea tried to explain what had happened from her perspective.

“It drew up a memory in me and tried to take it, but I honestly don’t think it’s been spying on us. Is there a way to be sure?”

“You mean like blocking it from the Elder Brain?” Haidrin asked.

“Well, in theory there might be,” Carrion offered. “I mean, there are spells to keep people from reading thoughts and minds, right?”

“You mean imbue something as a kind of magical barrier?” Hairdrin asked for clarification.

“Well it needs a brain stem soon or all this is moot,” Rylan pointed out.

“You mean a host,” Haidrin sad, matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” Rylan answered, “but then they grow up to be a tentacle-faced being . . .”

“Right,” countered Haidrin, “but if it’s blocked from the hive mind then it’d be just like any other person.”

“I mean, maybe? My nurse growing up was one of those things, and I’d wager he had his own thoughts and personality.”

As we discussed what to do, Carrion took action. Thea gave him a leather strip from her pack and he imbued it with some kind of blocking magic before wrapping it around Zorbie’s jar. Once again, we decided to deal with it later, but this time Carrion offered to carry the jar - - just in case.

“Be careful,” Fuego told him. I

“Oh, I am always super cautious,” Carrion replied happily.

“That does not check with reality,” Haidrin countered.

“We know you are,” Rylan said soothingly, “but your magic is wild and when it works it’s amazing but when it’s off . . . well, who knows what might happen?”

“Fair point, and thank you for the compliment.”

Lorhalien looked at us. “We make landfall in a few hours. I’ve already instructed the crew to be on the lookout for any . . . potential carriers.”

Rylan and Fuego attempted to reassure him, but he continued to worry about his crew – and his sister.

I pointed out that since Haidrin was back with us, he ought to get a pull from the dreamscape treasure.

“Wait what now?” he said.

Rylan and Thea tried explaining, but Haidrin seemed convinced this was just some kind of hazing ritual.

Reluctantly and with a slight scowl he reached into Ruinfea’s bag of holding. The scowl vanished when he pulled out a pinkish, pyramid-shaped stone.

“An ioun stone . . .” I whispered softly. Then, louder, “unfortunately, I don’t know what kind.”

“I think I know,” Haidrin said. “But knowing it’s an ioun stone put me halfway there,” he reassured me kindly. “Given it’s color, I’d say it’s a stone of protection. That’ll come in handy.”

I sensed a slight change in Haidrin’s demeanor toward us. He seemed almost happy, like he was thinking of a joke he just couldn’t wait to tell.

“You doing okay?” he asked Thea, who once more looked slightly ill despite Rylan’s excellent potion. “I’ve got a trick to help your seasickness: lay on your back and stare at the sky. You’ll start to focus on just one spot, and soon you’ll feel better.”

Thea immediately lay down.

Rylan had disappeared, but now reappeared with his hands behind his back. He came up to Hetzel.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, pulling a magnificent axe out from behind him. “Let’s just say now that Haidrin’s back, you need some arms.”

“It’s beautiful,” Hetzel replied in awe. “Wherever did you get it?”

“I asked a favor,” he answered somewhat mysteriously.

“Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Oh, I will. Repeatedly.”

“How are you feeling now?” Haidrin asked Thea.

“Well, I’m not nauseous.”

“Good; then it worked.”

“Yes, thank you!”

“I do what I can.”

I took some time to pray. As I tried to center myself for meditation, the mark on my hand began to throb and buzz. It wasn’t as painful as last time, but it lasted much longer than ever before. This was concerning, especially since we’d just discovered the mindflayers were spying on us. I found it nearly impossible to ignore. I wish I knew if Oghma even heard me anymore.

I decided then that, if it happened again, I would need to confide in someone, likely Rylan. I needed someone who understood what I was feeling, even if only to a small degree, and I also need to share the code to my manuscript.  Everyone knows I’ve been writing, but as far as I know only Rylan even knows it’s in code, and he doesn’t know the cipher. If I were to be compromised in some way, I’d want my friends to know what I’ve written.

And if worse comes to worst, then I may need Rylan’s . . . other services. I don’t want to burn in Fuego’s fire; Hetzel wouldn’t lift a finger against me unless either she or I turned completely; I don’t trust Haidrin at the present moment (at least not with this); that leaves Rylan. I hate to even entertain the thought, but this’ll have to happen eventually.

#### *At Court*

The Djinn’s Wish arrived at dock. For being a court, it didn’t look too big: small town of about twenty buildings perched on a rocky island. Other ships besides ours were there in various states of arrival and departure. Looking over the side, I saw creatures surround the ship: merfolk of various shapes and sizes.

As we approached it was all hands on deck; even some of our party helped out and were rewarded with 2 gold each from Remora once the job was done.

“Anything else you need?” Lorhalien asked.

“A ride home,” Rylan said with a laugh.

“Well, I’ll be here at least twelve hours, but I’ve nothing pressing.”

“If I’m here more than twelve hours, you should be concerned.’

“Noted,” Lorhalien replied as he put out his hand for another shake.

Rylan reached out and felt something cold and metal pressing into his flesh. He kept eye contact as he withdrew his hand and palmed the unexpected gift.

As we turned to go we heard him remark, “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” eliciting a look of panic on Rylan’s face, a flirtatious wink from Ruinfea, and a likely awkward wave from myself.

Walking into town I realized that the water fey, in terms of appearance, came in two types: stunningly beautiful or hideously ugly; there was no in between.

The largest building took up most of the landscape as well. Made of some sort of coral, it was two stories tall with a distinct opening. Two guards in brilliant master-level iridescent armor blocked the doorway with tridents. As we headed toward the doorway, they lowered the tridents in the manner of guards accustomed to gawking visitors wandering where they shouldn’t go.

Rylan stepped forward. “Rylan Banrae of House Menzoberazzean requests an audience with Elias and Siobhan Alastai, Sea Lords of the Court of Coral . . . please.”

The guards looked Rylan over, and then over at our group.

“Do you need a direct visit or might you spend some time with the major domo?”

“We are willing to meet whatever protocols you deem meet and convenient.”

One of the guards stepped into the building while the other moved to block the door. They apparently came to a decision.

“Do all of you have means of travel to the court?”

“I can tell you truthfully that none of us can breathe underwater.”

“Well actually,” Ruinfea piped up, “that’s not quite true. I’ve got this spell, you see, and I think it’ll work for us.”

“And can all of you swim?” asked Haidrin. “I know I can, and if I need to carry one or two of you along that wouldn’t be difficult.”

“You may also wish to stow your equipment. We are a salt water court, after all.”

Making use of some nearby rooms seemingly appointed for just such a purpose, we changed into more suitable clothing, storing arms and armor and precious belongings in Ruinfea’s bag. She also lent Thea an outfit, as Thea’s leather wouldn’t fare well.

We were now approached by a tall creature with large-set eyes dressed in silks, her length mostly in her legs and her hair almost equally as long. She looked us over and introduced herself as

“Lemmaru, but you may call me Lea if it is easier in your tongue.”

Rylan bowed and Lemmaru returned the gesture. Ruinfea tried to copy Rylan but was not as graceful.

Taking headcount, Lemmaru continued. “And shall I introduce you as Rylan Banrae and his company?”

“You may introduce us as the Third Family.”

Lemmaru nodded and replied, “If you are ready then, I can take you to the court.”

She stepped down into a nearby pool. As the water touched her skin, Lemmaru’s appearance became decidedly more aquatic as skin became bright shimmering scales, the space between her fingers and toes grew webbed, and her legs merged together into one long magnificent tail.

Carrion, upset at taking off his invisibility cloak, nonetheless seemed to enjoy the prospect of a swim.

I jumped in with both feet. Despite being able to swim, I quickly found that diving was another matter entirely.

“Bryn, need some help?” Thea called.

“Well it’s not that I can’t swim,” I called back, “but I’m used to rivers and lakes; this is entirely different.”

Swimming over, she took me by the hand. “That’s okay, I’ve got you. We’ll do this together, okay?”

Ruinfea fared even worse than I. Jumping in as well, she didn’t sink, but neither did she swim; instead, she just kind of bobbed on the surface.

Haidrin and Rylan came over and Rylan used his skills to tie Ruinfea to Haidrin. It appeared quite sensual, and if not for the circumstances, we would have laughed longer and louder than we did.

Usually, as one dives deeper into water, the darker it becomes. Here, the opposite was true.

“You’ll see things are different than you might expect,” Lemmaru told us as the cave opened into incredible light.

A large plaza lay before us: all manner of fey and marine life swam about, circling a large floating tree or anemone in the center of the square. Glowing orbs waved and swayed in the living, moving current as the thing itself pulsated with waving light, almost as if it were breathing, or a heartbeat.

Lemmaru led us past this natural wonder and to the steps of a large palatial structure. The steps were merely a formality; everyone and everything swam around us – the steps unused. She took us through a central arch and immediately made a sharp right turn into a kind of parlor, where she once again looked us all over critically.

“Do any of you require any sort of lodgings? Or is your business with the Sea Lords urgent, requiring their immediate attention?”

“For myself, I’m returning to the surface. I have no real part in the proceedings, and someone must look after the pig you’ve left behind,” remarked Haidrin.

Hetzel waved goodbye as he left while Rylan answered the question posed to us.

“We would meet them sooner rather than later,” Rylan replied “We have a boat to catch in about twelve hours. Yet we understand their lordships may also be busy with other affairs and matters of state.”

“They are currently in an open session of court. Might your petition be heard there?”

“We think this matter requires slightly more security than that. We would prefer the lords choose how to disseminate the information, rather than relying on court gossip.”

“Is your matter so pressing that it cannot wait several hours? There are many here with petitions today, some coming from a much greater distance than yourselves . . .”

“Yes, we are willing to wait at the pleasure of their lordships. Might we watch the proceedings? It may be that one or other of the petitioners will present a case related to our own.”

“As I said, the court is open. You may watch without being announced; unless, of course, you wish to speak.”

Assenting, we then followed Lemmaru into a large central court surrounded by many smaller rooms. This was clearly meant to impress – or intimidate, depending on one’s reason for being there.

The people were as varied here as in any terrestrial court, yet they engaged in the same behavior. Some pondered their petitions; others practiced politicking, and still others merely enjoyed the socialization of a day out. They were also divided by class and differentiated by their dress. The more finely dressed (some might say ostentatious) sat on the left, while the more severe (some might say austere or common) sat on the right.

Following Rylan’s lead and given our own current state of dress, we shuffled in on the more ritzy side, hoping that this might give our cause more credence. Lemmaru departed, and Thea tugged at her unfamiliar borrowed clothes in a valiant and mostly successful attempt at keeping them from floating upwards.

Several in the assembled crown quieted their conversations and cast looks of piqued curiosity in our direction. Contrary to our hopes, we didn’t exactly blend in: neither us nor our dress bore any resemblance to the aquatic life around us.

Rylan held his head high in the manner of a prince certain of his place. Hetzel stared in wonder and bafflement, her gaze caught by a very dapper jellyfish sporting an elegant bowtie. Fuego also looked about, his eyes taking in everything he could. Ruinfea, like Rylan, seemed calm and collected – almost as if she’d been in similar situations before. Thea tried to copy Ruinfea, while I tried some kind of compromise action. Keeping close to Rylan, I kept one eye on what he was doing and one eye on the goings-on around us.

A female-looking cecaelia looked at us with slightly more interest than the others. Picking up on this, Hetzel looked back and waved brightly. The woman quirked her head and raised an eyebrow; Rylan looked passively pleasant; I smiled and nodded in the manner of one making unexpected eye contact with a stranger on the street; Feugo tried making himself look as nonaggressive as possible. I’m not sure how Ruinfea and Thea reacted.

The cecaelia herself appeared extremely well-versed in keeping her own reactions to herself. She obviously played the court game, and her appearance was only heightened by the armor she wore (similar to that of a shark skin).

The temperate water swirled gently around us. Two aquatic fey floated on glowing daises, using magic to keep them in place rather than bobbing about in an inelegant fashion. They were the Sea Lords: Elias and Siobhan. Nearby, an armored page held Sea Lord Elias’ trident.

Our novelty wore off and soon conversations began again, interspersed with whispers. They were whispering about us, to be sure, but I didn’t get the impression it was malicious or malevolent.

Rylan instructed Carrion, hidden under his cloak, to take notes. We heard sighs of frustration as he realized inks and quills didn’t work too well under water.

“Charcoal. Use charcoal!” Rylan stage-whispered to the seemingly empty space by him.

The utilitarian side of the room raised many petitions of border attacks, while the more “regal” side brought issues of matrimony and patrimony. Often, the same peoples and surnames appeared on both sides.

About two hours later, we heard Lemmaru declare an end to the proceedings, barring the presentation of any other business.

There was a shout from the right as a rather androgynous-looking individual raised their voice. They were similar to us in that they appeared to be non-aquatic and wore a poorly-fitting brown tunic.

“What about my petition, my lords? For three weeks I have attended court, and for three weeks my petition remains unanswered!”

Elias and Siobhan looked at each other, then at the petitioner. Deliberately, they turned and walked away without saying a word. Lemmaru approached and began lecturing the poor person.

“Your petition will be heard; rest assured. Petitions are heard according to their importance as determined by their lordships. Your propriety – or rather, lack thereof – will have an impact into how your petition is received.”

“But my lords’ lands are being attacked and their people injured or killed. I myself am proof . . .”

At this point, Rylan interjected.

“My dear fellow petitioner. It appears that your matter and ours may be intertwined. If there is no objection from the court, I would be happy to hear your case and, if opportunity and . . . propriety . . . presents itself, I shall take care of the matter for you.”

He gave Lemmaru a sympathetic, understanding look. “Let us . . . ease your burden, if you will.”

“If you wish, my terrestrial lord,” Lemmaru replied somewhat curtly.

“But this isn’t just terrestrial,” the despondent responded.

“Now, I want you to come over here and tell me all about it,” Rylan cajoled. Turning to Lemmaru, he continued: “Give me five minutes?”

We all returned to the parlor, and Rylan dropped his princely demeanor immediately.

“Now take a deep breath,” he said.

They did so.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Now, tell us all about it, slowly.”

“Faemorians . . . Faemorians attacked my home . . .”

“Be calm,” Rylan said, while Thea offered a hand for them to hold.

“The Faemorians are attacking the edges of the faewild. But I fear I have no standing to even bring a petition. I appear to no longer be a member of this court.”

“Why?” Feugo and I asked together.

A look of utter loss and sadness crossed their face.

“I cannot tell you, but I can show you. Is this a place of privacy and security?”

“Yes,” Rylan told them.

“And you promise you will not ridicule me?”

“Why would we do that?” asked Fuego.

After we had each assured them of our seriousness, they stood up and removed their outer garment. A large scar ran down their back, running from beneath their hairline and disappearing into their underclothes before reappearing and continuing along the back of their legs.

Fuego’s demeanor shifted as he clenched his fists in barely-concealed anger. His chest heaved in and out, and even in the water I could sense the hotness of his breath.

“Child,” he said, trying to be calm, “Child, what shall we call you?”

“I do not own my old name, and do not yet have a new one.”

“What would you like to be called?” Thea asked kindly.

“It is not permitted for me to name myself,” they replied.

“Do you want us to name you?” Rylan asked sympathetically.

“If you promise not to be cruel . . .

“Why would we be cruel?” I wondered aloud.

“How about Sophson?” Hetzel suggested.

“What does it mean?”

“Well, it’s my name. My family name. My clan name.”

“You would give this, without knowing me?”

“We protect the lost,” Rylan answered simply.

“I am lost . . .” their voice trailed off.

Rylan stood quietly and removed his shirt. Though we had caught a glimpse of his back in Little Grove, General Stormosin had whipped him with his shirt on. Now we saw it in full. Rylan’s back was covered in scars old and faded and hard. Stormosin’s scars stood out in contrast, yet were nearly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the others. Anywhere that had previously been covered by his shirt we could now see was now covered in scar tissue.

Our new friend reached out and touched Rylan’s back carefully, looking relieved. They looked at us and said solemnly, “They took my skin.”

“Why?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“As some of you may have guessed,” they answered, looking at Rylan and Thea, “I am a selkie. Faemorians took it, but whether as a trophy or for pure cruelty I do not know. And not just me, but they destroyed my rookery, too.”

Rylan looked pissed.

“Before we get to that,” he said more calmly than he looked, “we must know what to call you. What kind of names do you prefer?”

“I do not know. I am just me; nothing else has ever felt right.”

“Chandler,” Thea said confidently.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s my family name, too.”

“But me having your names could prove dangerous,” they said, concerned.

Hetzel laughed. “Just wait ‘til you get to know us.”

“Then we’ll just have to give you another name just in case,” Fuego replied. “You may use mine as well.”

“And what is that?”

“Nevermere.”

“But . . . But . . . But why?”

“Because we’re family,” Rylan said, motioning to all of us.

“And I have a good feeling about you, too,” Hetzel said with a smile.

“You . . . you’re the ones they call the Third Family, aren’t you?!” the newly-named Chandler exclaimed in wonder. “But you’re honest-to-gods heroes. You’ve got no business with the likes of me. The worst thing I’ve ever killed is a shark.”

Rylan looked around and, seeing Haidrin still absent, tried to set them at ease. “I think it fair to say none of us have ever killed a shark. Before today, none of us had really been underwater.”

“It’s how I got my name, you know. They called me ripjaw . . .”

“That’s an awesome name!” Hetzel cried. “Is there any way we can help you get it back?”

Chandler shrugged. “This is what I am now. I have no place to go. Thanks to you, though, I have a name.”

“Oh, you’ll have a place to go, trust me,” Rylan assured them. “But reclaiming your name . . . ?”

“You could reclaim my skin,” they said “But I don’t know where to even start with that.”

“Luckily for you, we might be able to narrow our options down,” Rylan said. While he spoke, Rylan removed the metal feather Lorhalien had pressed into his palm and showed it to Chandler.

Their eyes widened. “You have gloaming allies? I apologize for ever doubting you.”

“No need, you weren’t to know,” Rylan assured them.

Ruinfea spoke up. “How about some clothes? I’ve got plenty in here.” She rummaged in her bag. “Let me choose out a few for you and you can decide what suits you best.”

“This is entirely too much,” Chandler said as Ruinfea pressed them with clothes.

“Just have a little faith, and we just might be able to set this right,” Rylan said.

Chandler nodded and then disappeared to change into their new outfit.

I sat, thinking. I knew what it was like to be marked at a young age, to have something taken from me, to suddenly be different and not know my place in the world. But how to let Chandler know I felt the same way? Everyone else seems so at ease with people and conversations. I only speak up when someone talks to me directly, when someone’s lying, or when one of the thoughts in my head escaped my mouth. Jii, though quiet, always knew what to say. Maybe I didn’t have to speak to have an impact.

Chandler reappeared, adjusting their new clothes and looking somewhat insecure.

Thea looked them over approvingly. “You’ll do just fine,” she said.

Lemmaru now came back to get us. “The Sea Lords of the Court of Coral are now at their lunch and would see you there,” she said. Here eyes slid right over Chandler.

We followed her into a room with a large table set for the noontime meal. Elias and Siobhan sat on opposite ends. Places had been set for us between them.

“Oh I do apologize,” Lemmaru said hurriedly. “It appears the count for your party was off and we are short by one chair. I shall have one brought up immediately.”

“See the difference a new set of clothes makes?” Rylan whispered to Chandler.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Fuego told them.

“But my chair has not yet arrived,” they replied.

“Yes, it has. Mine is coming. I will stand while I wait.”

We sat, and Lemmaru brought another chair.

“Thank you,” Fuego said as he lowered himself.

Rylan began speaking.

“We are grateful to their lordships for the moments you have spared to hear us.”

Elias leaned forward. “It is rare for such profound heroes to visit our court . . . tales of the Third Family have reached us even here.”

“We were hoping to help you,” Rylan began.

“Help us? Help us how? I was unaware we were in need of help.”

“Exactly. That’s why we’re here.” And, beginning in Little Grove, Rylan began to give a short and concise summary of our travels so far. When he reached our arrival at Dewport, Elias interrupted.

“Ah yes, Dewport. We have had relations with Dewport for quite some time, as I am sure you are now well aware.”

“Indeed. And that is one reason we’re here: to tell you of Dewport’s recent troubles.”

“Troubles? Dewport has always had troubles. What in particular do they face now?”

“A plague sent by the Hollow Company.”

Elias’ eyes flashed. “The Hollow Company has no base or basis in Dewport,” he said confidently.

He didn’t even need to ask what the Hollow Company is, I thought.

“Sadly, this is not true,” Rylan informed him. “And this leads me to the second reason for our visit. My lady Siobhan, if it please you, I seek information regarding Velandra Lorhalien.”

And what is she to you, might I ask?”

“She and I belong to the same guild.”

“Which guild, she belongs to many.”

“She and I were in school together as well,” Rylan said, unwilling to give too much away.

Siobhan seemed eager to change the subject.

“Regardless of the supposed attack on Little Grove,” Elias went on, “I have no fear of being overrun here.”

“You are indeed a glowing bastion of strength,” Rylan agreed, “but that is the very thing that makes you the perfect doorway for just such an attack.”

“We have stood against many attacks from the Astral Sea.”

“True, your lordship, yet this is not how the attack will come. Is there a map of the Court of Coral, showing its place among the planes that we might consult?”

Elias turned to the cecaelia female we’d seen earlier. “Calliope?”

She raised her arms in conjuration, and an image of the planar realms appeared above us. Rylan asked Calliope to light the faewild and the celestial heavens.

“Here,” Rylan said, pointing to the general location of Chandler’s rookery, “has already been attacked.”

“Inconsequential,” Elias scoffed.

“And that’s the exact attitude that will make it of great consequence,” Rylan retorted, launching into an explanation of how the Hollow Company planned to force a hole straight through the planar realms.

Calliope looked thoughtful. “My lord, it would certainly do us no harm to send a scouting party . . .”

Rylan cut her off. “We have a firsthand account of that attack right here with us.”

Elias looked at us. “You were there?”

Rylan laid a hand on Chandler’s shoulder. “Our friend, whom you may call Chandler Nevermere Sophson, was present at the attack. They dutifully sought your attention with a petition in open court, but have thus far not been given a chance to speak. Finding our interests intersect, we have included them in our party.”

Elias’ curiosity was piqued. “What, child, do you know, then?”

Chandler could no longer be held back. “I tried telling you all about this weeks ago, but you wouldn’t hear me. You dismissed and belittled me . . .”

Rylan had to cut them off. “Calm. Calm.”

Chandler took a breath and steeled themself. “The Faemorians . . . they came out of nowhere. We were all huddled together after out meal. I was in the middle as I was the youngest. They were so fast, coming out of the sea and the rocks and the grass all at once. The clubbed us with sticks and bashed us with large rocks. They aimed for our heads. Some . . . some did not die quick. I don’t know why they left me. Maybe it was because I pretended to be dead. But those around me . . . they weren’t pretending. They died. I pretended to die while everyone else DID die.

They laughed as the took out skins, some of us still breathing, and threw us into the ocean. Salt water had never hurt me before, but now it stung and burned and ripped through me. I woke up some time later and wish I hadn’t – or at least I wish I’d woke up alone. But I wasn’t alone. I tried to wake them up, but they wouldn’t wake up. I don’t know if the sea will take them back and I don’t know their names. But I knew to come here. I remember them saying ‘If anything happens, go to the Court.’ I forgot everything else, but I remembered that.”

“That was three weeks ago,” Rylan mused. “That means you were the first. Before Little Grove, before Sprigan, and long before Dewport – you were the first.”

Thea offered Chandler a hug, but they couldn’t see through the tears welling up. Thea wrapped them in her arms, and Chandler turned, burying their head in her shoulder, shaking.

Elias looked around. “It would be foolish to think we are so unconquerable. . . Yes, it is vital we take precautions. Do you have proof of this attack with you?”

“Yes, we have the lyre carried by the satyr who ran it, the doll that carried the disease, and a scrap of the cloth from the woman who carried out their plan.”

“And what was the nature of this attack?”

Rylan explained the demonic plague that was currently infecting Dewport and had – until recently – affected himself and Fuego and me.

“And do you know their names?”

“The satyr we know as Housemaster; the woman as Ouros.”

“But why the Farmorians?” Siobhan asked, breaking her silence once again.

“Hate, is my guess,” Rylan replied.

“Perhaps, Elias,” Siobhan said, “perhaps what you have long wanted I should at last consent to.”

We looked from one to the other, wondering what she could be talking about.

“I have long desired to break our connection to the material plane,” Elias explained. “I increasingly find it has little profitable to offer us.”

“It matters little in that regard,” Rylan argued. “The Hollow Company plans to push through, regardless. But you say the material plane is of little interest to you now. Does that mean you are open to a different kind of relationship with Dewport? A new charter for a new time?”

Elias looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I would be open to that suggestion. I also authorize you to conduct an investigation into the attack on this one’s rookery (he motioned to Chandler). What do you need?”

“We need healers, to start with,” Rylan said immediately. “As for Chandler, we’ll help them so their people can be made whole. Perhaps the sea will remember them and take them. Perhaps they will regain their standing.”

“Is this something to which you all agree?” Elias asked us.

Whether audibly or by nodding, we gave our agreement.

“What resources do you require?”

“We need something to counteract this plague. The individual who healed us in Deport did so only at great cost to himself. He could not do such a thing on a large scale.”

Rylan turned to me. “About how many people would you say are infected in Dewport?”

I hadn’t expected to be put on the spot. “Well, there’s a variety of factors. It only affects divine casters, and the population of Dewport is constantly in flux, and it was suppressed for a dozen hours or so . . . I’d estimate around seven hundred, give or take.”

“And that’s not counting the people that may be infected in your kingdom, your lordship,” Rylan said.

Calliope spoke up. “Might I offer my services and experience with divine magic? I am, after all, spellmaster for a reason.”

Rylan looked at Calliope carefully. “If I were to share a prophecy with you, might that help?”

“Yes, of course,” Calliope responded.

Rylan held out a hand, indicating he would share the information telepathically.

“You must have had a rather . . . interesting upbringing if this is your initial reaction to sharing information,” Calliope observed.

“You have no idea,” Rylan agreed.

Calliope took in Rylan’s information. “Healing requires a sacrifice. The type and size of the sacrifice will depend on the god, and may even vary depending on the adherent asking. A price must be paid for this level of . . . mending, shall we say.”

“Is it possible to split the price?” Rylan asked. “It may be too much for one person to take themselves, but if we all chip in or take it on, it may be doable.”

“Again, that will depend on the god. As for me, I speak to the Archfey.”

“Well, we have at least one of them that looks kindly on us.” I imagine he was thinking of Jii and The Traveler.

“I did catch a glimpse of that and did not wish to pry where I did not belong. But I would not petition him for anything.”

“But,” Rylan began before being cut off.

“Notice I said I would not petition him for anything. That does not mean you might have more or greater success. He has made many enemies, and the Sovereign Host makes things difficult, particularly around the Dark Six.”

Rylan looked at Calliope with renewed interest. “Remind me to introduce you to my mother.”

Elias glanced at Rylan in awe. “You already picked up on that? Calliope has been with us a long time, and we are still uncertain from where she draws her power.”

Rylan gave him a smile. “I will not spill a lady’s secrets.”

“Shall we continue this discussion after we eat?” Calliope asked. “I always find hard business goes better after a meal.”

“More and more, you remind me of home.”

Siobhan motioned to the food and indicated it was given freely.

We ate, and when we finished Lemmaru returned, asking if we would be needing lodgings or would rather return to our parlor or to court.

“They will be accompanying me to my rooms,” Calliope informed her.

With a nod, Lemmaru departed.

We left the room following Calliope. As we did so, Thea snagged some fish for Zorbie.

As we walked, Calliope filled the air with conversation.

“I know your names by reputation. But as I am a lover of stories and a collector of tales, I would also like to know more about you.”

“Well, my family traveled quite a bit. There’s many places I could call home,” Thea offered.

“Ah, so your home is everywhere. And how do you find the court? Might you consider it one of your homes?”

“Yes; I enjoy making friends in new places,” Thea said, giving Chandler’s arm a small squeeze.

“And how do you find the attention paid you?”

“I prefer to observe.”

“Ah, so you’re more of a harper, then?”

“She certainly harps on us to be better,” I muttered. I hadn’t intended that to come out, but it did.

Calliope looked down on me – not hard given she was easily over seven feet tall  - and gave me a quirk and a smirk.”

“Ah, you must be Brynwick. So you are a collector of wit as well as of stories?”

Embarrassed, I blurted out. “Stories, yes, but the wit is relatively new.”

“Bryn is also the work at taking compliments,” Rylan chimed in. “Even, perhaps especially, when they’re well-deserved.”

I blushed as Calliope went on. “I find that compliments fall into one of two types: flattery, or the truth. Either way, take them, because then you’ve got something useful.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” I replied.

“But I do not harp,” Thea countered with a glare in my direction.

“Bryn is the smartest person I know,” Hetzel offered. “And she’s pretty cool for a nerd, too.”

“And do you miss the mountains, my good dwarf?”

Hetzel waxed eloquent about her mountain home. I wish I could remember what she said, but I would not do her justice. She made me feel nostalgic for a place I had never been.

Calliope wished Hetzel success in surpassing the renown of all her cousins.

“And what of you, master Dragonborn?”

“It’s a fog any longer than three years ago,” Fuego replied.

“Then I hope you regain your memories. And you, Master Rylan, what are your true thoughts of home?”

“It’s complicated, as often is when the things we love are at odds with reality.”

“Is that not true of all our mothers?”

“Family is what you make it,” Rylan replied, turning to smile at the rest of us.

Carrion chose this time to poke his head out from under his cloak.

Calliope stared for a moment before saying “You know, it’s dangerous to use those for long periods of time. You start losing yourself.”

“I promise we have been keeping a close eye on Carrion,” Rylan replied.

We arrived at Calliope’s casting tower. A collection of tablets written in a language I couldn’t read covered nearly every surface.

Closing the door, Calliope made a mark on it.

“I appreciate none of you prying into my affairs and motivations earlier,” she said.

“I take it you know something of Velandra, then,” Rylan observed.

“More. I believe the lords have been working with the Faemorians for some time. They have ruled the Court of Coral for over four thousand years, and their hearts have grown cold like ice. People are pieces to them, as was Velandra. Now, I take it you have some relationship to the gloaming court?”

“We were asked to find her by her brother,” Rylan replied.

“Velandra was a spy and a courtesan. For power, the lords will make deals with anyone. My informants tell me Velandra was originally given the job in Dewport. She disappeared soon after she refused.

“Who asked her to do it, the Faemorians or the lords?”

“The Faemorians, I think, asked her to do it to show her dedication.”

“Then, in acting in concert with the Faemorians, the lords have broken any contract or promise they may have on Dewport, and perhaps even their people,” Rylan pointed out.

“Yes. The Court of Coral is no longer interested in anyone or anything other than itself.”

“We could just kill them,” Hetzel said.

Usually I’d be inclined to push back, but the Sea Lords had, in my mind, betrayed everyone in their trust.

“It’s not that easy,” Calliope said. “Even if you could accomplish such a thing, the role of Sea Lord is more than a political position. Without someone ruling over the Court, the seas would become utter chaos. Dewport would likely fall into the sea, as would many other ports.”

“Who would take their place?” Thea wondered.

“They have no successor, for they have never envisioned such a thing as necessary. But whoever would step into the role must have the will to do so”

Rylan and I shared a glance.

“I think we know someone with just the right temperament,” he said.

“Agreed,” I said, backing him up.

“Oh no, not me,” Chandler protested, seeing us look in their direction. “I can’t do this.”

“But you have the will,” Rylan pointed out. “You persisted in your pursuit of justice. You know what it is like to be downtrodden and broken. You have both the will and the motive in spades.”

“But I don’t want it!” they cried.

“Which is exactly why you’re right for it,” Fuego countered.

“Well, let’s consider this later,” they said, attempting to change the subject. “What of my skin?”

“If I were a betting woman,” Calliope said, “my guess would be that it is in the treasury right here. We now have a plan of action: steal back the selkie’s skin, save the sister, and confront the contemptuous lords.”

“Do we do this as a unit or split up?” Rylan asked.

“I’d suggest splitting up to get the skin and Velandra. Then meet back up to take on their lordships – perhaps in open court, if you can, so the people can see their treachery.”

And so it was decided: Rylan, Fuego, Chandler, and Ruinfea would go after Chandler’s skin; Thea, Carrion, Hetzel, and I would go free Velandra.

#### *The Sister, The Skin, and The Showdown*

Calliope gave us all directions before reversing the mark she’d placed on her door.

“Should you need me, I will be here. Obviously, the aid I can give you is limited should you be detained where you should not be.”

Carrion thought it would be beneficial for Hetzel and I to cover with his invisibility cloak; Hetzel declined, but I accepted. Billowing the fabric like a bedspread, he sent me into stealthy shadows.

Quietly, we made our way to the towers, with no one really stopping us. We didn’t look or act suspicious, as at first we stayed in the public parts of the court. Soon, we noticed less residential traffic and more armored guards. The first real challenge came as we passed the archway leading to the barracks, which we would have to pass to get to the tower without being noticed.

We all managed to evade the guards’ attention . . . except for Hetzel. Some small sound or motion caused him to turn and look directly at her. From his viewpoint, I don’t think he could see Carrion or Thea, and he’d have to be supremely sharp-eyed to notice me under the invisibility cloak.

“Oi! Hold up, topsider!”

“What? Where am I?? I mean, how’m I supposed to hold up if there’s no down here?”

“I know it can be confusing, miss . . .”

“After all, this ain’t no mountain. I’m not even sure how I’m breathing! It must be magic of some kind, but I don’t pretend to understand it. All of this is most unnatural.”

The guard peered out of the doorway but didn’t notice any of the rest of us.

“So, where have I ended up then?”

“The barracks, miss.”

“Ah, fighting! Tell me, how extactly do you fight underwater? It must be so different than fighting ‘topside’ as you say. I mean, there was one time I had to fight in a little girls’ dream, and that was something else I tell you what. I didn’t do too well against the river god, and the chimera was hit or miss for a hot minute, but overall we came out okay. Then there was the time we fought a god . . .”

The guard’s gaze glazed in and out of focus as Hetzel rambled on.

“By the way, I sure could use the facilities if you have any. I didn’t think I was supposed to just go in the water . . .”

“Certainly, miss. Follow me.” The guard began moving back in the direction we’d come from.

“But of course, Mr . . . what shall I call you?”

“Lucius”

Lucius and Hetzel started walking back down the hall. Seeing Hetzel walking behind and the guard distracted, I walked up behind her and enveloped the invisibility cloak around her, covering her mouth with my hand as I did so.

Lucius made it a good ten paces or so before realizing that Hetzel not talking was definitely not normal. He began to look around.

“Mistress Dwarf? . . . Mistress Dwarf?”

Looking around, he pulled out his sword, but the look on his face gave him away: he knew he ought to do something, but wasn’t sure that that was or where he should go.

“Oh swarms and bells . . .” I heard him say as he rushed in the direction of the tower.

Hetzel nudged me under the cloak. She pointed to me, then in the direction of the towers, then to herself, and finally in the direction we’d come from.

I understood her plan, and mentally kicked myself for my impulsivity.

Hetzel stepped out from under the cloak and continued on as if nothing had happened.

“I’d really like you to teach me some of those underwater fighting techniques . . .” she cajoled.

Lucius was understandably confused.

“What is going on here?” he demanded.

“I certainly don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hetzel said, trying to convince him that everything was normal.

“There’s some magic about, I’m certain of it.” Lucius said accusingly.

“I’m not even the least bit magic,” Hetzel protested, “and besides, you were supposed to be showing me to the facilities.” She began an elaborate aquatic potty dance.

“You can use the facilities in the barracks. This way.”

“I’m never one to turn down a bathroom,” Hetzel said good naturedly. “It’s kind of a Sophson family motto.”

Lucius led Hetzel to a small dirt closet separated from the main barracks by a curtain.

Finishing her business, Hetzel became aware of two more guards entering the barracks.

“Oh thank you thank you, ancestors be praised,” Hetzel exclaimed as she exited the closet.

“This way, mistress dwarf, if you please,” Lucius said, motioning back down the hall.

As he led Hetzel back to the common area, Hetzel asked him about anything and everything. Arriving back where Elias and Siobhan held open court, Hetzel asked

“So, what about that fight?”

“Well, I get off around late tide, soon after the evening meal,” Lucius told her. “I could meet you back here.”

“Great! I can always keep track of meals. It’s a date!”

Hetzel sat and rested as Lucius returned to his post.

While Hetzel made the most of her situation, Thea, Carrion, and I headed on to the towers.

Velandra was being kept in a private cell on the second floor of the tower. A pair of guards stood outside her door. After a short and quiet conversation, Carrion and I cast simultaneous suggestion spells on the guards.

“Man, I’m beat,” one said to the other. “Think we could go get something to eat? I just can’t focus . . .”

“You know, I know exactly what you mean,” the other replied. “I’m all for it if you are.”

“Sounds great!”

They walked past us, down the stairs, and away.

Carrion gave me a victorious fist bump.

Thea bent down and peered at the keyhole. Removing two hairpins, she fiddled the pins a bit and the lock clicked open. She slowly opened the door and peered inside; I ducked underneath her and also looked into the room. It was vaguely lit with a kind of bioluminescence and a window so small even I wouldn’t fit through it. But one thing was plain: no one was here.

“Velandra, we’re here to help you,” Thea said softly. As she spoke, I became vaguely aware of a person dropping down onto us from above.

Thea tried using her acrobatics skill to get out of the way, but being underwater is much different than being on land. The three of us – Thea, myself, and the mysterious person – all ended with a heap on the floor. The door flew open as Carrion now came inside.

Thinking quickly, Thea attempted to pin the stranger. Her quickness worked in her favor and she caught the assailant unprepared, moving them off me and pinning their arms.

Now able to move, I got up and got a clear look at the attacker: a shoeless woman with unkempt white-blonde hair and wearing a linen sack and pants for a covering stood in front of Thea, ready to fight.

“Velandra, we’re here to help,” I said loud enough for her to here but not loud enough – I hoped – for the guards to notice.

The woman stopped and looked at me. Sizing me up, she said “Well, you’re certainly not anything Elias or Siobhan would send to trick me. Get in and close the door. Can you lock it again?”

Carrion did so.

“Answer quickly. Who sent you?”

“Your brother.”

“Did he give you anything?”

We described the metal feather in Rylan’s possession. Satisfied, Velandra continued.

“How did he know I was here?”

“He didn’t”

“How did you find out I was here?”

“Investigation”

“Who told you, specifically?”

“Calliope”

“So, she isn’t just going along with things. What’s the plan?”

“Rescue you, recover a selkie’s skin, and overthrow the Sea Lords,” I said. “But I’m not sure how we’re going about that last bit.”

“That’s all right. I’m on board with anything that’ll let me cut them down,” Velandra replied coolly.

I messaged Hetzel telepathically. “Found Velandra. Headed to Calliope.”

“My new bros the guards are headed back to the barracks,” she replied in response. “move quickly.”

We moved out, and I put the cloak back on, which had been knocked off in Velandra’s welcome. Carrion locked the door behind us.

We passed the guards’ barracks and saw the two guards enjoying a light snack.

“How long is your break supposed to last?” Lucius asked them, returning.

They looked back at each other and shrugged before heading back to their posts with no one the wiser of what transpired.

We continued on towards Calliope’s tower.

Meanwhile, Rylan, Fuego, Ruinfea, and Chandler made their way to the treasury, located on what one might call the “first floor” of the court. There were many more guards here. Rylan provided an initial distraction by toppling a wall-mounted light. With most of the guards distracted and the servants rushing to fix things, Ruinfea shape-shifted into an anaconda and performed an aerial dive-bomb on one guard while Rylan bonked another on their head and Fuego cast shatter at the remaining guard.

With the guards thus disposed or distracted, Rylan picked the lock while Chandler looked on in rapt attention.

The treasury was full, yet well organized. The initial search for the selkie skins came up empty.

“I feel a current coming from somewhere,” Rylan observed as he began feeling along the walls and pressing shelves. Chandler copied him, but without success.

Rylan smirked to himself. “They thought I was a regular rogue, but I am here for justice!”

He followed the current to a chest. Throwing it open, the group stared down at the bottomless vessel.

Rylan and Chandler jumped in with nary a moment’s hesitation; Ruinfea slithered in with what I’m told was a hilarious hissing version of “whee!”; and Fuego carefully lowered himself down.

The dark subroom glowed with magics. Hammers and silver antlers glimmered in a set of dancing lights. A sense of weight of wondrous power filled the water, making it seem a living, breathing thing.

Fuego and Ruinfea were drawn to an ebony chest on the left, while Rylan veered right, attracted to a faint glow coming from a shield buried underneath other artifacts. Green armor embellished in a floral, leafy motif hid a shield and helmet; the glow came from the shield.

“Rylan,” a voice whispered from the light.

Rylan touched the shield.

Fuego, though, had been investigating the chest. He opened it, and Chandler immediately started pulling out its contents, cradling seal skins in their arms. The face of brave anger fell away as they began murmuring prayers of thankfulness.

They and Fuego and Ruinfea grew dimly aware Rylan had gone elsewhere, when just at that moment a burst of light came from elsewhere in the room.

Rylan flinched as he was surrounded by a halo of light and a figure emerged from the shield: a white diamond encircling a blue star ensconced in an orb of light – light that didn’t seem to hurt Rylan despite its brilliance.

“This is so lucky,” a female voice said. “Where are you, and how did you find me?”

“We found you by luck, my lady, while searching for items stolen from a friend,” Rylan said, unwilling to give too much away.

“Is there a tall gentleman nearby? An Alaidrian?”

“No, but there is a dragonborn.”

The woman sighed sadly.

“And the armor?”

“Empty.”

“I am sure it was lost in a fair fight, be that as it may,” the voice finally said.

“I would not bet money on that,” Rylan replied.

Ruinfea shifted back into her elf-form.

“Fuego, who did we find?” she asked.

“I don’t know; maybe we can ask them?”

“You can’t do that with Fae!” Rylan whispered loudly. “Chandler, do you think this lady needs our help?”

Chandler stared at the orb before speaking.

“My lady of light,” they whispered softly before turning back to Rylan. “This is Queen Titania!”

“I would trust you, Rylan, to the ends of the earth.” Queen Titania spoke aloud. “I know I chose rightly. Will you claim this shield?”

“I . . . I . . .”

“We will speak at length later. The shield is yours. And the armor, if you would have it, but the shield most of all.”

Rylan put the armor and the selkie skins in Ruinfea’s bag.

“Chandler, would you like to put your skin on here, or . . . ?”

“Oh, thank you!” Chandler said, beginning the process.

Ruinfea and Fuego looked for any dwarven hammers, but found none.

Rylan sat down.

“Are you okay?” Ruinfea asked.

“I don’t feel so good . . .”

“How so, exactly?” asked Fuego, concerned about another demon plague.

“You promise you won’t send me to an asylum? Because this is going to sound crazy. I feel like a part of me got . . . remade, somehow. I don’t really know how I feel, exactly, except I know for a fact I want to stomp their faces in.” He jerked a hand upwards, indicating the court. “You still down for a coup?” he asked Rylan.

“Oh yes,” they replied, determinedly throwing on their skin and transforming. Chandler gave a series of joyful laps; he was obviously ready and raring to go.

“Time for some justice,” Rylan declared.

Exiting the chamber, they, too made their way back toward Calliope’s tower, arriving at the same time as the rest of us.

Once inside, each group gave a short rundown of what they discovered.

“So does that mean you got your name back?” Thea asked Chandler.

“Yes, Yes!” Chander replied in a voice musically and bubbly and unlike anything we’d heard them say before. “Ripjaw – my name is Ripjaw!”

“So does that mean I can call you Rip?” Thea asked.

Chandler look at us in a mix of happiness and appreciation. “What? Why? You can call me Chandler, of course!”

Oh, my heart nearly burst at that.

Hetzel had found mimosas, or as I called them mer-mosas. I did not have any.

“So, tell us exactly what happened down in the treasury” Ruinfea asked Rylan.

“I . . . I don’t rightly know . . .”

Calliope looked at Rylan closely, then at the buckler shield he now carried. He swore it was different before, but now matched his size and abilities.

“You saw Queen Titania,” she told him, reaching out as if to touch the shield. “ And this marks you as a Summer Knight of the Seelie Court, a warrior blessed by Titania herself. You say she already knew your name?”

Rylan nodded. “It’s like a part of me was made whole that I didn’t know was broken. Like a fever breaking. I don’t know what to think.”

“Does this mean you’re not a bloodhunter anymore?” Hetzel asked. “You’re a paladin now or something?

“Well, that sword I pulled from the sack, the one you helped me name – remember Bryn? – Well, I couldn’t do this before.”

Pulling the sword from its scabbard, I saw it glow brightly. I was filled with a confidence that, no matter the fight, I would have the advantage. The look on the others’ faces showed they, too, felt similar feelings.

Velandra watched all of this, recumbent in a chair.

“Oh yeah, Rylan, we found your friend,” Thea said.

Velandra waved a thumbless hand in Rylan’s direction.

“You’ve grown up,” she said to him. Then to all of us, “So, you’re all on board, then?”

Chandler had taken to racing about Calliope’s tower; Thea tried chasing after him.

As we gave our affirmations, Rylan reached out to Velandra. “Here, take these, you might need them,” he said, handing her a dagger and his old shield.

Chandler changed back into their human form, and crashed into Thea doing so.

Rylan told us his plan to challenge Elias and Siobhan in open court, and we agreed this was something that could not be done in secret. We headed back to court; Velandra disappeared along the way.

More guards were posted in the court when we arrived. They seemed vaguely aware that something was happening, but the heightened security was offset by a business-as-usual attitude. Not one of them made any attempt to stop us as we once again took up positions on the left-hand side of the courtroom. Rylan had his aura turned up to the max, and we all followed his lead, including Chandler.

After several suits were heard, Rylan – with us following him – made his way up to Lemmaru. She stopped him with her hand up, indicating Rylan would have to follow protocol.

Rylan made a show of adjusting his new buckler, and Lemmaru’s lips pursed slightly. However, she returned to her political bookkeeping, announcing us after several more suits where brought forth and settled.

“And what business might you now have before the court?” Elias asked.

Rylan smiled.

“We would like to know why you allowed the Faemorians to attack your lands without reprisal; why you broke your word to Dewport and plotted against them with a plague; why you refused to hear the plight of your people while keeping evidence of their suffering hidden in your secret chambers; why you have become forsworn, forsaking your oaths.”

“Yeah,” Hetzel added, “and why you’ve been keeping things like sisters locked up.”

“And why you ignored the child Ripjaw while you kept their skin as a personal trophy.” Rylan continued.

“And why you’re just up to weird mess in general.” Hetzel finished.

Elias and Siobhan gave each other cool, calculated looks. Their demeanor remained unchanged.

“These are astounding accusations, Third Family,” Elias finally replied. “You have proof? You, who have broken the laws of hospitality to spy and sneak and supplant . . .”

Rylan broke him off. “We broke no such laws of hospitality. Your hospitality was not yours to give even as you gave it, and even if it were, you gave us permission to investigate the attack against Ripjaw’s people. That investigation has led us back to you, Elias, and you sister, Siobhan.”

At this moment, Velandra appeared behind Siobhan, her blade drawn.

“Hello, dearest water lotus. Did you forget me?”

“As for proof, we have the doll and the skins and Velandra. We have the backing of the gloaming court, and we have this.” Rylan motioned to his shield and, using a newfound skill, pinged the alignments of Elias and Siobhan.

“You have both grown cold as ice . . . and in your coldness, you have allowed evil to enter your hearts.”

Rylan’s eyes flickered to Siobhan. “Why don’t you fill them in, Velandra?”

“Oh you mean how I was asked to take a plague to Dewport in order to spark a war with the material plane?”

Rylan tossed the doll towards Elias’ throne.

“And how when I refused I was imprisoned until such time as I could be executed for a crime I did not commit?” She gestured toward Chandler.

“The skins of my family were found in the treasury of this court,” they said with as much courage as could be mustered. “Along with many other items seemingly taken from the dead. I would like to know how they got there”

“As would I,” agreed Rylan, “as not but three hours ago you claimed to have no knowledge of the skins.”

“Things change quickly at court,” Elias said.

“Yes, but not that quickly,” Rylan rejoined. “We know the skins were already there; we’d have seen you planting them otherwise.”

“As justice for Dewport and the selkie known as Ripjaw, and for the honor of the oaths you have forsaken, I claim the right bestowed on me by Queen Titania.”

The court gasped audibly as both Elias and Siobhan called for order.

“You would bring violence into my kingdom?”

“Violence is already here, brought by your lordships,” Rylan rejoined.

“Do you wish to call for combat, here in open court?” Siobhan demanded.

“You have already called for combat through your treachery. Therefore, I call for you, Siobhan Alastai, to meet me in single combat as is my privilege.”

THE SISTER, THE SKIN, & THE SHOWDOWN (CONTINUED)

Siobhan stepped down into the area of engagement.

“You go, Rylan,” Thea whispered, passing along some bardic inspiration.

Velandra stayed where she was, knowing that simply cutting Siobhan’s throat in open court wasn’t the best course of action.

“Are you familiar with the rules of engagement?” Siobhan asked derisively. “You may use any of the skills in which you are trained, but you must act alone. Any aid, and you forfeit the duel . . . and your life. Think you can do it?”

“This is your last chance to concede before I humiliate you,” Rylan replied. “or kill you, as it may happen.”

“I am a lord of the sea. Run home to your mother, princeling.”

“I’m going to whip your ass!” And with that, Rylan drew his sword, attempting to assassinate Siobhan with the Holy Sword of the Avenger and channeling a new power granted him by Titania: Turn the Faithless.

The blow was mighty, but some of it appeared deflected by a magical barrier surrounding Siobhan. Some, but definitely not most. Siobhan looked completely and utterly terrified at the mere fact Rylan drew blood – silvery blood that leaked into the water from a gaping wound. Rylan followed with a bolt from his crossbow, but it flew wide. He tried to hide.

But Siobhan was like a cornered animal determined to fight rather than flee. Her eyes flickered and flashed around the room until they came to rest on Rylan, and, taking a deep breath, she raised her hands and let forth a blast of chromatic light from her palms.

Rylan did his best to dodge the attack, and while he managed to avoid most of the discharge, I saw him wince in pain as acid stung his flesh and did not dissipate in the water.

I watched as Siobhan cast another spell, covering herself in mage armor.

Drawing from his well of newfound power, Rylan tried first to ensnare Siobhan, then to strike her with a thunderous smite, but the attacks were easily deflected. Once more he fired a bolt from his crossbow, scoring a small victory before he managed to disappear from view.

Siobhan continued to scan the room but did not move from her spot; instead, she rocked back and forth on her feet, waiting for Rylan to make his next move.

The bolt struck her in the back, and she turned just in time for Rylan to score a glancing blow with his sword while simultaneously casting another ensnaring spell at Siobhan’s feet.

Before he could hide again, Siobhan cast a chain of lightning at Rylan. Again, he dodged a majority of the attack but still looked slightly stunned. And then, once more, he was gone.

Siobhan continued to rock back and forth as she healed herself. But this was unlike any healing I’d seen before, and only rarely written about. The sand beneath her darkened and collapsed as she drew life from it. Where other casters might call upon their gods for aid or protection, Siobhan was taking it by force from the very thing she was supposed to protect.

Ruinfea uttered a low growl. “That fucking bitch . . .”

The translucent, barely visible thorns at her feet disappeared as she laughed and smiled with cold dead eyes similar those of a shark.

“Is that all you can do? Hit and hide?”

Well, it seems to be working so far, I thought to myself.

Rylan dropped darkness into the area of combat; I am reliant on his recounting of the battle to relate what happened next.

First, he once again tried – unsuccessfully – to ensnare Siobhan. Then, he tried to hit her with a crossbow bolt, but no luck. In frustration, he imbued his sword with a searing smite and swung it mightily. The water steamed and recoiled from the flaming blade, but Siobhan didn’t see it coming and caught it full-force. Of course, she was still protected by her mage armor, but she felt the blow and was very, very briefly set on fire.

Siobhan screamed a cry of pain and terror similar to an animal close to death. Even so, such animals are dangerous.

Rylan hid once more and Siobhan scanned the room, to no avail.

Yet again Rylan fired a bolt into Siobhan’s flesh. Even with her protections, she had to be feeling it. He swung with his sword, but it went wide. He hid.

Hit and hide, indeed, bitch.

Siobhan released a piercing cry as clouds formed above her and lightning began to flash down. Three bolts crashed into the space around Rylan: two of them missed completely, but the third caught Rylan in the leg.

Stumbling, he fired his crossbow. The bolt flew true, and Siobhan tottered. Rylan rushed forward, lifting the darkness while swinging his sword in a killing stroke.

As the darkness faded we watched as Rylan landed on his feet in front of Elias, Siobhan’s head in his hand. He stared Elias straight in the eyes as he tossed the head at his feet and wiped the bloody blade on his pants while closing his wounds.

Elias cried with a pain that would make high mountains fall and rend the hearts of the coldest killers – if Elias still had a hear, that is.

Elias looked upwards. The storm that had formed above Siobhan had not dissipated with her death, but had instead grown larger. In addition to the lightning, hailstones now pelted downwards.

“Casters!” Rylan called for aid.

As we moved forward, Hetzel moved backward and began helping the assembled crowd find their way out to (relative) safety. She waved at Lucius.

I looked up and considered the storm. It grew ever worse as the hail increased in size and intensity. It seemed Siobhan knew this would happen, and perhaps she put some of her own magic into it, creating a kind of storm of vengeance that would continue to inflict ever worse damage. But Calliope had warned us about this, hadn’t she? Maybe there was a way to lessen it . . .

“Chandler!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Chandler, claim it now!”

I hoped they knew what I meant.

I glanced around. Chandler appeared missing. Where could they have gone? Were they hurt?

And then I saw them: in the back, helping Hetzel get people out. They seemed focused on helping those with the most difficulty – the elderly, the infirm, and the injured. They were exactly where a lord ought to be, but it’s not where they needed to be at that exact moment.

Their head whipped up and they looked around. A look of shocked remembrance passed over their face, and they immediately began making their way to the daises.

“What now?” they asked as they passed us.

“Sit down on the throne and protect your people,” Rylan told him.

The current began peeling back Chandler’s skin as they approached the two glowing circles, revealing their human form underneath.

“I claim this throne in the name of the people of the Court of Coral. I swear to protect its people with my life, and to do everything in my power to promote its peace and prosperity.”

There was a boom, and a flash of light, and as we looked we saw Chandler standing at the throne, the Trident of Prosperity in their hand.

The storm lessened, yet still it raged overhead. Fuego stepped forward and lifted his staff toward the sky (surface?) and said something in draconic. I imagine he was telling the storm to knock it off and behave already for its new master.

Lightning flashed and hail fell in one last spasm, and then the magic dissipated, leaving Fuego standing unscathed in the middle of the debris.

Hetzel cheered loudly.

“Fuego Stormbreaker!” someone called out. Now, there’s a name that’ll stick.

The crowd and guards stood silent and stared at Chandler on the dais.

“All hail the ruler of the seas!” Hetzel cried out.

“Hail!” I responded, using thaumaturgy to make sure my voice carried.

Rylan beat his sword on his shield, while Ruinfea and Thea bent their knees in obeisance.

Now the guards looked at us, the land-dwellers who had accused their lords of being forsworn – one of whom who killed a lord in single combat – and who now proclaimed this unassuming creature Lord of the Seelie Court.

Thea and I both cast cure wounds on Rylan, sensing he was worse off than he appeared.

Now Calliope floated forward. Inclining her head, she bowed elegantly and declared

“Long live Lord Ripjaw!”

The guards lowered their heads and took the knee.

“Rise, rise,” said Chandler almost immediately.

“So, what do you want me to do with him?” asked Velandra, who had been holding Elias at bladepoint this entire time.

“Well, I think he might have more information on the bullcrap that’s been happening in Dewport,” Hetzel said accusingly.

“What more do you want to know?” asked Elias bitterly. “It seems you already know what’s going on. Why not just take my head like you did my sister’s while you’re about it.”

“Look, after the laws and lives you’ve broken, taking your head would be easy,” Hetzel rejoined.

“Calliope told us the debt to cure Dewport would be large,” Rylan mused.

“Elias incurred the debt, let him be the one to pay it,” I said.

“Exactly. A week in the living nightmares might do the trick,” Rylan agreed.

“Two weeks, for what his sister did as well. They acted together, and she got off too light,” Ruinfea offered, still seething over the natural destruction wrought at the hands of the Alastai.

Elias looked toward Chandler. “I find it stunning that you would allow these topsiders to make decisions for us,” he said in a misguided attempt at racial solidarity.

Chandler shot Elias a withering look. They swam over with the trident and showed it to Elias – safely out of reach, of course. “Do you know what this is?” they asked. “This is a mark of a promise you made to guide and protect the small and the large and the noble and the impoverished. You failed. These did not. They listened, and they succeeded where you quit and connived.” Chandler turned now to Calliope. “Whatever the price, let him pay. And if he is not enough, the remainder will come from me. The sea lord must set things right.”

Then he turned to us and whispered, “Was that good?”

With tears in our eyes we nodded and whispered “yes”. Unable to speak, I gave him two big thumbs up.

Chandler then gave Velandra instructions to take Elias away and Calliope to make any necessary arrangements that might be necessary given the day’s events.

“I need a short rest,” Rylan gasped as soon as Elias was out of both sight and earshot. “I feel like my ribs are in my spleen.”

“I was just about to ask what I might do for you,” Chandler replied. “Is a short rest really all you require?”

“Whatever Thea says goes,” Rylan told them, sitting down on the floor.

Hetzel raised her hand. “So, just wanted to let you know that this is Lucius. He’s a guard and my new bro and was integral in getting all this done. So, you should be friends now, too.”

“We will talk later, I am sure,” Chandler assured her. Then they turned to Thea.

“What is it you need?”

“Rylan is right – we need some rest and some time to think. You want to reward us, but we would not take advantage of you, either.”

“I really need a bed,” Rylan said. “And after I rest up a bit, I’ll weave a spell for you, Chandler, that will link you to Titania so that none will ever question your right to the throne. There will always be challengers, I am sure, but none will ever be able to call you a usurper.”

“He needs rooms!” Ruinfea said urgently.

Calliope led us to an elegant suite set up family style.

Thea asked Ruinfea for her lyre from the bag, and began playing us a song of rest. It was refreshing.

“Well, that overthrow was easier than I thought,” Hetzel observed.

“It was almost fun,” Rylan said, still wincing.

“That bitch sucking life . . .” Ruinfea muttered.

Rylan filled us in on what happened in the darkness, and Thea’s song turned into a short ballad of Rylan’s battle. As we discussed events, there came a knock on the door. Calliope entered and said,

“Lord Ripjaw desires you take anything you wish from the treasury.”

“Well, I promised to return the armor for Queen Titania,” Rylan pointed out.

“I will see that it is brought up.”

“I already have it here with us, in the bag.”

“You are indeed an honest rogue. None of us would have thought differently had you simply walked away with it.”

“I am a rogue, not a thief, and besides: never steal from family.”

“And what else might you desire?”

I spoke up.

“Well, I have my own wish list, but I think all of us were wondering if there might be some kind of armor we could use in case we found ourselves in a similar situation . . .” my voice trailed off.

“She means to ask if you have any armor we can wear underwater,” Ruinfea helpfully clarified.

“I need a crown for Chandler,” Rylan said.

“I am not sure they will take a crown,” Calliope relied. “I am having a hard enough time convincing them to change clothes.”

“They’ll have to for the ceremony,” Rylan responded, “And even if they don’t want to wear it all the time, I need something to set on their head during the ritual or it won’t work.”

“I don’t know what it’ll look like,” Calliope said, uncertainly.

“It doesn’t matter so long at it’s official.”

[later and much too late, I thought it should contain a piece of shark’s jaw, but perhaps that wouldn’t have been polite, so maybe it’s just as best I didn’t say anything at all.]

“You said you were looking for some items,” Calliope said, turning back to me. “What might they be?”

“The first is a tankard of sobriety,” I replied.

“We are not a drinking culture, you understand.”

“Yes, but you are underwater. Perhaps one fell overboard and was gathered up.”

Calliope nodded. “I suppose that is possible. And the other?”

I motioned her down so that I might whisper to her.

“A pen used by the clerics of Oghma.”

Calliope straightened up and looked at me with a look of sadness.

“I think you know where you need to look for that,” she said.

I sighed. “You’re right. But it never hurts to ask.”

“What about a dwarven axe, approximately four or five hundred years old?” Hetzel inquired.

“Not saying there isn’t one, but we didn’t see any in the lower treasury,” Rylan told her.

“You looked!?” she replied, wide-eyed in astonishment.

“Are you kidding?” Rylan replied incredulously. “Of course we did. We even split up to make sure we covered everything. It’s how I found this,” he tapped the shield.

Hetzel dashed forward and hugged Fuego and Runfea and Rylan somewhat aggressively.

“We know how much it means to you,” Rylan told Hetzel as she wrapped her arms around him. “It’s literally the first thing you said to us in Little Grove!”

“Unfortunately, I can tell you we do not have anything of dwarven make. When we come across something from a culture not our own, we do our best to return it.”

“Maybe it’s best if you do up an inventory and we can see what you have that might be useful to us, within reason of course.”

“As Lord Ripjaw has named me Keeper of the Court, it is also my duty to inform you that the Court owes each of you a minor boon . . .”

We glanced at each other. Treasure was one thing, but a boon . . .?

“How are you holding up?” Rylan asked Carrion, who’d finally re-emerged from his cloak.

“Terrified.”

“And how about you, Velandra?”

We looked around, but Velandra was nowhere to be seen.

“Calliope, might you know the whereabout of Velandra?”

“The last I am aware, she was using paddles to peg the former lord between the eyes.”

“Not the kind of pegging I was expecting, but effective nonetheless,” Rylan observed.

“To be fair, that might come later, and with the same implements,” I countered.

Rylan stared at me.

“Hey, there’s a lot of books in the library.”

“Yeah, we remember the one on magical ogre sex,” Thea replied.

Calliope began to excuse herself.

“Please, Calliope, tell Velandra to get down here, godsdamnit.” Rylan pleaded somewhat angrily and frustrated.

“Shall I use that same tone?”

“You may quote me!”

We continued to relax for about an hour when we heard horns blowing for the official ceremony. As we entered the hallway, we met Velandra coming down the hall.

“Come with us, Velandra,” Rylan told her. “After all, we promised your brother.”

“Do I have to?” Velandra whined playfully.

“I will walk you to the ship and show you to your brother and after that you are your own person,” Rylan said.

“You used the p-word, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Rylan admitted.

“Then I guess I’ll go along with it. Let’s get this silly ascension over with.”

“It’s not silly; I’m doing it.”

Velandra stared.

“I keep telling you I have tricks up my sleeve . . .”

“Prove it.”

“I will. You’re coming with us, after all.”

“I like her brother better,” Ruinfea whispered a little too loudly.

Velandra smirked.

We now entered the court for a third time. There had been some cleanup, with some of the larger hailstones left in place. It was a packed court.

Chandler now stood at the front of the court, where a single dais now stood with one golden circle.

Calliope spoke, calling first for silence.

“People of the Court of Coral – we have honored guests with us, guests who liberated us and have been merciful in the debts we owe to them and to the topsiders they represent. I now give them the floor in honor of this ceremony.”

Rylan now stepped forward with a bowl of mud he’d spent some time consecrating while in the chambers. Carefully and respectfully, he drew a series whorls and swirls and symbols on Chandler’s cheeks and neck and partially-exposed chest. It was a coming of age ritual.

“Ripjaw Chandler Nevermere Sophon, first of your name – I charge you now to provide light to the people of the Court of Coral; to protect that light from harm with all your mind and soul and body; to preserve that light from corruption; and to proclaim that light from this court unto the very corners of your kingdom.”

Rylan then began speaking in High Drow, telling us later he called on Queen Titania to bring him comfort and aid. The sea-tree outside stretched its branches upwards into the sea as both it and the sea surrounding it filled with Titania’s light, the presence of that lady being unmistakably felt by all in attendance.

Calliope brought out a crown of coral and driftwood, handing it reverentially to Rylan.

Rylan took the crown and placed it on Chandler’s head. The crowd cried out, and a feeling of peace and happiness replaced the weight and unease.

“The ascension is over,” Calliope declared.

Rylan looked at us. “We need to get back to the ship,” he said. “Time’s running out.”

We filed past Chandler.

“Which do you prefer,” Hetzel asked them, “sibling or cousin?”

“I . . . I . . . which one is better?”

“Well, a sibling is a close relative with the same mother or father. You’re not exactly a brother or sister, and that’s just fine by all of us. So sibling is a better word. A cousin is a relative who gets to pick their own particular branch of the family tree.”

“Family bonds are special, and I do not know you parents. So I think cousin would be best, if you insist.”

“I do. And I’ll be sure to let Momma Sophson know to add you to the list of family.”

Rylan now approached. “You have a seal for us?” he asked.

“Yes. Calliope prepared that.” Chandler handed Rylan a scroll. “Use that to communicate with us, and we will answer, no matter how great the need.”

Rylan took it from their hands. “Likewise. You have an ally in Mezzoberrazean. You can make this court a decent place for decent folk.”

“The stories say Elias and Siobhan were like that, once. I fear following the same path.”

“Then you have taken the first step in avoiding it. Remember: while the Alastai embraced the sea, they were not of the sea. You, my dear friend, are part of the sea itself. It will not turn you to ice.”

“Just use Calliope and don’t be a dick!” Hetzel said happily.

“I do not want to be a dick,” Chandler agreed.

Rylan gave them a warrior’s handshake while Hetzel gave them a playful punch, which Chandler returned, much to Hetzel’s delight.

“Come back when you can,” they told us as Thea opened her arms for a hug.

And now our time was up. Calliope motioned to us frantically and we returned with her to the surface.

Rylan made sure Velandra came along, too.

BACK TO DEWPORT, AND PARTS BEYOND

We resurfaced in the domed building we’d left with Lemmaru hours before. I wonder what happened to her . . .

As we made our way back to the coat check, I asked Calliope

“So did you find anything?”

“My scholars tell me this may be what you are looking for,” she replied, holding out a lidded tankard with a stern face adorning its side.

I reach out and took the vessel, turning it over in my hands. A smile spread over my face. “Yes. This is exactly what I was looking for. Thank you!”

Calliope looked puzzled. “This is a magic item, it is true, but it is not exactly rare. Why ask after for such a common item?”

I grinned broadly. “Because now I’ll be able to drink safely with my friends!” I exclaimed, and, turning to Hetzel, called out,

“Hetzel! We’re going drinking!”

Hetzel pumped her fist in the air.

Calliope smiled. “It is good to find happiness in one’s companions and to seek a life of peace and contentment in the small things. It appears this, too, is the direction the Court of Coral will be taking. And so I am glad to be able to help you fulfill your goal.”

Thea twirled in her borrowed dress. “You know, I’d keep this if I could . . .” she mused.

“Go ahead, keep it!” Ruinfea told her enthusiastically. “I’ve got plenty more, so don’t worry about it.”

We passed through an archway, whose magical properties dried us completely, leaving those of us with longer hair in a somewhat sorry state.

Fuego chuckled, rubbing the scales on his head as Ryland and Ruinfea and Thea and myself tried to get ours out of our eyes – or at least behave for just a minute. Carrion, too, laughed as he stroked his hair unconcernedly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ruinfea told us. “I’ve got stuff in my bag that’ll fix us right up, and we can help each other get it just right, too.”

As we approached the Djinn’s Wish, we saw Remora on the gangplank. “You’re just in time,” she told us. “We’re just about to cast off in two minutes’ time. And you need no introduction; you are guests of the Captain.”

Velandra walked past.

“Oh, I see you’ve succeeded in that matter, as well . . .”

As we approached the captain’s quarters, Captain Loray opened the door immediately, albeit somewhat nervously as well.

“I see you’ve returned,” he greeted us.

“Here’s your sister; there’s a new sea lord; one of the old one’s dead and other’s in prison.” Rylan said all in one breath.

Loray looked around, causing the rest of us to follow suit. Velandra was nowhere to be seen.

“I swear if she’s run off I’m going to kill her . . .” Rylan said, annoyed.

He cast a spell to find her, and a burst of light came from inside Loray’s cabin. Velandra sat inside, trying to brush away the light of Rylan’s spell.

“You son of a snail,” Loray began.

“Don’t you mean daughter?” asked Thea.

“Oh, so you’re gendering us now?”

“Oh no, that’s not what I mean at all,” Thea said, mortified and quickly backing away.

“So, what’ve you got to say for yourself?” he asked Velandra.

Velandra huffed. “I gratefully appreciate the rescue.”

Rylan and Velandra regaled Loray with an account of our most recent adventures.

Then Rylan said,

“Oh, I almost forgot we’ve one more to our party.” Sticking his head out a porthole, he called for Calliope.

Calliope surfaced, but declined to come aboard. She could not do so gracefully nor with much dignity, and so preferred to make her way to Dewport by her own means.

### **Return to Dewport**

Thea carefully fed Zorbie with the help of Rylan and Carrion.

As we approached Dewport, there were no outward signs that anything was wrong.

“I expected to find the city on fire and bodies burned in the streets,” Carrion told Rylan.

“I think I’ll settle for ‘well but nervous’” Rylan responded.

“We did leave Tearsson, after all,” Carrion said, trying to reassure himself.

As the Djinn’s Wish attempted to dock, a small boat came out, warning of plague.

“Tell them we’re the Third Family, and our party is either immune or can’t catch the disease in the first place.” I told Loray.

The message was delivered, and the boat returned to shore to verify its authenticity. I tried not to take umbrage at that.

We were given permission to enter Dewport; Loray ordered his men to stay aboard. As we climbed down into the shuttle, Ruinfea turned and waved at him. Loray gave her a smile with a glimmer in his eye.

“Little shit,” muttered Rylan.

Loray winked.

The Dragonborn female council member met us on the dock.

“We anticipated your arrival. We set up shifts to be sure we wouldn’t miss you,” she informed us.

“We’ve brought reinforcements,” Rylan told her.

“Reinforcement?” she repeated, looking around quizzically.

“There’s a new Sea Lord in the Court of Coral. One who wishes to renegotiate the relationship between the Court and Dewport. He sends his Keeper of the Court, Calliope, to help set things right. She’s a cecaelia, and didn’t think it was wise to just have her appear in your port.”

“The new lord also wishes to make restitution; don’t forget that part,” I chimed in.

The woman looked at us in wonder. “Give me a description of this Calliope, and I will have it sent round. I would not wish to harm this . . . . new relationship.”

We followed her to the temple.

“Things have gone . . . poorly, in the time since you left. But Tearsson remembered his promise and has helped heal those only in the most dire of circumstances.”

She opened the doors to the temple. Inside was a nervous gathering of frightened, exhausted people.

Tearsson sat in front near the altar. He appeared to be in meditative communication with Ilmater.

“He tires himself in the healing process, which he always does in private,” the dragonborn said. “He says he knows both his promise and his limits, and I trust him.”

“He better, or we’re going to have words!” Hetzel said loudly.

“Should we rouse him or something?” Rylan asked.

“Maybe we should have some soup or something handy,” Hetzel suggested.

Snapping his fingers, Rylan pulled out small wrapped bags filled with nuts and granola and the like.

“Here, all of you take these. The large ones can heal you up, and the small ones too, to a lesser extent. It won’t be much, but they might just keep you alive in a pinch.”

He turned toward Tearsson and offered up a prayer of healing for him.

Tearsson opened his eyes.

“My, all of you have changed since we parted ways,” he said, looking at us. “Tell me what happened.”

Hetzel filled him in as only she could.

Tearsson nodded along as if it made perfect sense.

“Ilmater kept me updated.”

“He followed us?!” Rylan exclaimed.

“In his way, yes.”

“Well, hi!” said Rylan, looking around.

Tearsson smiled.

“I can rest, then. Thank you, all of you. See to your group, to Dewport, to the Empire. I have promises I must keep.”

“You’re dying,” Hetzel accused him. “I told you specifically: no dying.”

“It’s not dying. It is to bring my services to other places, other planes, other realms. No one has done that before, at least, no one like me.”

“I’m not going to fight you on this,” Rylan said softly, “but you’ll have to take it up with Hetzel.”

“You said you weren’t going to die,” Hetzel sighed. “And I’m still going to hold you to that even if you’re on a world made of cheese.”

“I do not think Imater cares much for cheese or other dairy products,” Tearsson replied with a chuckle.

Hetzel and Thea and Rylan and I sat with him. Ruinfea gave him a friendly look, but then excused herself.

Tearsson rallied once more.

“Death is not the end, and we will see each other again.”

“I’m holding you to that, or Grandma Sophson’s gonna punch you in the face,” Hetzel warned him.

Tearsson laughed as his body faded away to nothingness, taken to another plane of existence by Ilmater.

Leaving the temple, we learned that Calliope had arrived and was beginning the cleansing ritual. Rylan stopped by a nondescript building, reemerging with several letters, before we returned to Jinx and Bella at the Beagle.

“That ones from mother,” he said, reading it to himself.

“This one’s from Tiago. He says the trial has been held and the Emperor has chosen mercy. Arun lives.”

“This one is from Momma Sophons, Hetzel; shall I read it aloud?”

“Yes, please do!”

The Sophsons wanted to make sure we were all doing well, that we were in good spirits and good food, and wanted to make sure we were either hot enough or cold enough depending on our disposition. I’m starting to see that Hetzel’s generosity is a family trait.

“And this last one is from the Emperor’s Hand, Lyra Aerie.”

Even I had heard of Lyra Aerie, the relatively young moon elf was still considered new to her position, having been Hand for roughly thirty years and acting as the advisor and secretary for the emperor. Some said it was better to have her on your side than the emperor himself. Some of the others knew even more: Aerie was adept and well-spoken with a reputation of being level-headed and intelligent. She once had been considered a match for the Emperor, but rather than marriage, she became his Hand. The Emperor, meanwhile, had not taken a wife.

“So, where do we go from here?” we asked each other.

As we debated the merits of various cities and towns, courier bells began ringing violently outside.

“Bella, please see what that’s about, would you?” Rylan asked.

Bella opened the door and stepped out into the street, and was nearly run over by a horse.

“Limdell calls for aid!”

“Well, that’s decided then,” Rylan said nonchalantly.

Jinx, who had been setting a marvelous spread for us, now began packaging the food in pouches.

Saying our goodbyes to her, Jinx opened her arms wide, singing a song of fond farewells and happy returns. She sang with the voice of what seemed like a thousand happy sailors backed by the faint tinkling of glasses and clinking of mugs.

Rylan warned Bella of a cousin that had been appointed to one of the various positions in the Capitol, one Shika Mizzrym by name. Bella looked nervous.

“You can always come with us,” Rylan offered.

Bella shook his head.

“Jinx has offered me work here protecting the Beagle,” he said.

Rylan nodded in understanding.

“I’m afraid I may not come with you either,” Carrion said. “You see, Tiago has invited me to apprentice under him. I love each of you dearly, but you’re actual heroes and adventurers. You jump and make decisions; I’m perpetually unready and cower and hide under my cloak.”

We were sad to lose another member of the party, Haidrin having not been at the Beagle waiting for us, but understood the opportunity this meant for Carrion.

“And besides,” Rylan said, “you can help be our eyes and ears in the Capitol. I don’t doubt we’ll end up there soon enough.”

“But don’t ever think you aren’t a hero,” I told him. “After all, you withered the hands of a demon!”

“Hey, perhaps you could check in on Comfort in Little Grove,” Thea suggested. “It’s on your way, and she said she’d be going to the Capitol eventually as well.”

“And then you won’t be travelling alone,” Hetzel pointed out.

“Speaking of travel, what’s the fastest way to get to Limdell?” Fuego asked.

“Well, the caravan can only go so fast, no matter how much weight we drop,” Thea said. “And Biscuits and Gravy just aren’t cut out for speed, you know?”

Rylan looked thoughtful and gave Thea a glance.

Thea, too looked thoughtful, then sad, then determined.

“Unless, of course” she said to Carrion, “you take the caravan and we find alternate transport. You can travel in comfort – with Comfort, hopefully, and arrive in the Capitol safe as houses. Biscuits likes alfalfa and Gravy really likes sugar cubes, but you really shouldn’t give them too many.”

“I . . . I . . .” began Carrion.

“Just go and be the best darn nerd you can be!” Hetzel said, giving him an encouraging punch.

“But what about our wormy boy?” I asked. “Should he stay with Carrion or come with us?”

Debating the pros and cons, we decided to take Zorbie with us.

We waved and hugged Carrion goodbye, while Thea did the same for Biscuits and Gravy, and then we headed back down to the docks, hoping to catch Loray and the Djinn’s Wish still in port.

It was there, but not as we expected. Loray stood on the dockside, paying his workers, while the Djinn’s Wish itself had been ported, lifted out of the water.

“Please tell me she’ll sail,” Rylan said, exasperated.

“Oh, and hello to you, too,” Loray responded. “I’m afraid she needs work and repair before making another voyage. Where are you headed to now?”

“Limdell.”

“Do you have some rummy to go with that gin?” Ruinfea asked.

I snorted at her pun.

“Not that kind of gin . . .”

“Oh, I know, but it’s what I think of,” she replied with a laugh.

“Well, that depends on if you trust me,” Loray said.

“About as far as I can throw you,” Thea said.

“You know, I think you could throw him pretty far,” Hetzel observed.

“I’ve a sloop . . .” Loray began.

“What’s its name?” Ruinfea asked.

“Morning Star”

“Is there room for War Pig?” Hetzel asked.

“Room for all of you,” Loray informed us, leading us further down the dockside.

“Sloop, there it is!” Ruinfea called out.

“How soon can she be ready to sail?” Rylan wanted to know.

“Thirty minutes.” Loray declared.

Rylan paced as Loray and a small crew went to work. Fifteen minutes later, Loray said she was ready.

“Now, what do you need to get?”

“We’ve got everything with us.”

“How much sailing experience do you have.”

“None, but Rylan is good with knots and ropes.”

“I’ll take it. We’ll make this work.”

The trip that should have taken 12 hours took nine, thanks to Loray’s seamanship. He – and we – worked very hard. No casual, cavalier attitude on this journey. The Morning Star was a smaller ship with more tossing, but somehow Rylan and Thea managed better this time.

We drew up to a small dock town whose main existence seemed to be to supply Limdell. Our map showed it was about two hours walk from here; we’d cut off considerable time by taking the water route.

The town, though, was abandoned. There wasn’t a soul in sight, and it appeared there hadn’t been for at least a day or two.

“Thank you!” Rylan called to Loray as he took off at a marching pace toward Limdell.

Loray followed.

“You’re coming with us?” asked Thea.

“That’s twice now that Rylan has said thank you, and I’ve said it once to him. We protect our investments.”

“That’s a long way of saying ‘friends’” Hetzel scolded.

“Well see about that,” Loray replied.

### **Limdell**

#### *Arrival in Limdell*

We marched quickly towards Limdell. The scenery took on a familiar look, reminding us of Feno’s dream. As we neared the city, the ruins of the old outer wall and first buildings appeared. Then the forest grew quiet and darker. It took us a few minutes to realize this was not due to nightfall, but something very dangerous; it was smoke.

Entering a glade at the top of a hill, we looked down on Limdell and saw a city mid-siege. Black and red creatures swarmed in  front of the walls, held at bay by archers atop the city ramparts.

A noise caused us to turn our attention. A large siege tower came through the forest, destroy trees in its wake and rolling on to Limdell.

Ruinfea’s rage rolled off her in waves.

#### *Liberating Limdell*

I counted about forty of the creatures; taking a more careful look, we recognized them as fiendish Glabrezu. They hadn’t yet noticed us; we had a few moments to prepare.

Rylan went around applying some sort of woad to our foreheads. It had different effects on each of us, magically improving Fuego’s armor, protecting me from fright while also boosting my health, warding Thea from evil, and blessing Hetzel and Ruinfea and Loray.

We discussed our plans: namely, to sow chaos on the battlefield, to remove the threats of the battering rams and trebuchets approaching the gates and the walls, and take out as many of the demons as possible.

Rylan looked at me. “I promised you I would protect you. I have a suggestion, but if you find it offensive I will take a knee and you can slap me for my impropriety. You will be a small creature on larger battlefield than we’ve faced since we’ve been together. Your magic is powerful, but you might find it advantageous if you had some aid in hiding. If you are willing, I can fashion a rig for you to ride on my back.”

{insert inner thoughts here about why I would say yes}

A smile crossed my face in anticipation of what might be possible with Rylan’s help.

“Yes. Yes, that would be just fine.”

As Rylan began weaving silken ropes for my security, Fuego surveyed the field. “I could bring down fire on a ram or two . . .” he mused.

“I’ll be certain to watch my eyebrows,” Thea laughed.

Hetzel began to work herself into a rage, with War Pig beside her.

Ruinfea transformed herself into a very large creature she called an “ankylosaur” – A large, somewhat scaly creature with a very large, thick tail.

Thea put a hand on Ruinfea and looked up, questioningly. Ruinfea nodded and Thea climbed up.

Finished with his rigging, Rylan helped me onto his back and tightened the ropes, then lowered himself carefully to speak to War Pig, giving him some of the treats he’d assembled and promising War Pig that if he did well in battle and didn’t eat the treats unless absolutely necessary, then he’d fix him a large plate of the best mushrooms we could find.

War Pig looked like he was doing his best to earn those mushrooms.

Then, Rylan cast dancing lights on Ruinfea, giving her the appearance of magical armor.

We went over the plans one more time, and then Ruinfea cast pass without trace on all of us, and Rylan and I stepped into hiding. “Hold on,” he whispered up to me as he looked for someone of importance. He found no generals, but did see three Glabrezu that appeared to be coordinating the attack. His first attack with the crossbow missed, but two mighty strokes from the Sword of the Holy Avenger decapitated the one nearest us. The blade flashed through the air, but with Rylan’s skill and Ruinfea’s boost we blended back into nothing.

I watched as Loray pushed forward, drawing two scimitars from his back. One glowed red, the other yellow, and with them he cut the arms off a demon and surged forward.

Across the field, Thea must have cast a fear-inducing spell on the Glabrezu near her and Ruinfea as the turned and fled toward the city walls. Where once the plain had been a swarming mass, the attackers were now beginning to clump together. All the better to hit them.

Fuego called down fire on the battering ram closest to the city gates. It was a good thing they were made of stone, because the ram exploded into fiery splinters, peppering the walls and gate and pushing the hellish minions away from the gate itself.

From Rylan’s back I surveyed the ground. We were close to the two siege towers. A thought came to mind. I cast insect plague on the tower farthest from us, centered in such a way as to do the most damage to the enemy. One bug poked through the ground and ran up a demon’s leg. Then a spot on the ground swelled and burst like a ripe boil as insects poured out onto the field. One demon, pushed back from the ram by Fuego’s blast and now confronted by these insects just up and died.

Then I took the scroll Jii had given me and cast insect plague again, this time on the other tower, sending everyone inside into chaos. I allowed myself a small happiness at the swarming mass of insects. “Jii would be proud,” I whispered, not realizing I’d said it out loud until I heard Rylan say, with a mix of pride and sadness,

“Yes. Yes, he would.”

Ruinfea and Thea, meanwhile, had made their way to a trebuchet. Ruinfea tried hitting it with her tail; she connected, but only dented the infernal machine. Glancing about, she dropped a shadow cloud on the field.

The chaos was palpable. Fire, insects, darkness, and nearly invisible enemies were causing massive problems for the Glabrezu.

“Holy fuck,” Hetzel exclaimed, looking at the chaos we’d already caused. Then she decided to add her own special blend of insanity, reaching out to hit whatever enemy was closest to her. Two hits struck true; when they failed to fell her foe, she growled in intimidation, and the demon was scared witless.

That proved the case for the majority of the Glabrezu before the walls of Lymdell. They tried to, as Rylan put it, “get the fuck away” – some ran into my insect plague and died; others massed before the walls to be shot at by the elven archers on the ramparts.

Chaos was ensuing, but that didn’t mean the Glabrezu didn’t fight back. One tried to crush Hetzel with his pincers while striking at her with his fists. Only the pincers caused  damage and she seethed in rage.

Ruinfea got in a spot of trouble as a group of demons unmoved by Thea’s fear spell and unaffected by my insect plague swarmed her and, acting as one in a kind of pack tactics, climbed her body and swiped at her, causing massive amounts of damage, knocking her to her knees.

Seeing this, Rylan pulled his sword and raised an aura of righteous anger, trying to turn the faithless on the whole field.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

But in this case we’d done our jobs too well, and in the chaos his voice went unheard, unnoticed, or ignored.

Loray gave a massive shout, a rallying cry:

“On your feet and all together now!”

Rylan intimidated the demons nearest us and fired towards the group under the wall.

Thea cast cure wounds on Ruinfea, giving her much-need health.

Fuego cast sacred flame on a trebuchet rider, who’d gotten off to attack Ruinfea.

Seeing the demon still standing, I cast Weight of 1,000 Years on him.

Ruinfea, for her part, caused a thunderous wave that knocked her assailants back ten feet and killing the Glabrezu injured by Fuego and myself.

Thea resumed her concentration to cause fear and panic among the Glabrezu.

Fuego crossed the field to an abandoned trebuchet and rotated it, aiming it at one of the siege towers. Lighting the shot, he fired. Through the bugs and the fog and the chaos of battle, the demons never saw it coming. The tower was obliterated, along with the Glabrezu inside. Fuego reloaded the trebuchet.

Ruinfea tried to protect Fuego by swiping at the demon closest to him, but she missed. Following up her swipe, she entangled the demons close to them. The Glabrezu found themselves unable to move on rough terrain.

Hetzel struck the demon that hit her, delivering it a withering would that turned to ash. She growled again.

War Pig now entered the fray and took out the demon’s kneecaps, gorging and incapacitating it.

As we prepared to continue the fight, a horn blew to the east. The Glabrezu turned and retreated into the forest one by one. Rylan took attacks of opportunity as the fled, picking off a few. Thea cast vicious mocker one on of the demons that had attacked her and Ruinfea.

“Take that, you . . . “ the din of the retreat drowned out her words, but I’m taken to understand it was quite the string of profanity.

The field was silent for a moment.

Setting me down, Rylan broke the silence.

“Come down here and help us get these things off the field!” he cried up to the archers on the walls.

The great stone slab was raised, revealing an intricately carved gate behind it. The doors swung open, and a figure approached us, flanked by a military escort.

Thea climbed down from Ruinfea’s back, and Ruinfea shifted back into her elf-form. Thea offered her an elbow bump.

The figure was an elf male, and a relatively young-looking one at that. He stopped and looked at us, then lowered his head and cocked it to the side. He stared rather intently at Ruinfea, paused, and then looked at all of us as a group.

“Pardon, my good folk – but I must ask: are you friend or foe?”

“You called for aid,” Rylan told him. “We’ve come from Dewport – or through Dewport, at least. We are the Third Family.”

The elf looked at us with a mix of shock and awe.

“Please . . . Please come inside. Before they come back.”

He stepped aside a motioned for us to go first; he would follow our lead. Passing by him, he looked at us intently, but most of all Ruinfea.

“I’d heard stories of the Third Family, but they did not indicate your company was so . . . diverse.”

“You mean ‘awesome’, right?” Ruinfea asked. “Because that’s what we are.”

“I, for one, am surprised they didn’t lead with that,” Rylan answered sarcastically.

“Welcome to Lymdell, Third Family,” the elf continued. “I am General Gildor Galanodel.”

At this Ruinfea stopped short for a moment before walking on. “oh shit oh damn oh holy hell” I heard her say under her breath. I wasn’t the only one who heard her; maybe it wasn’t as quiet as I recall, because the entire party knew something was wrong.

“Yes, yes . . . I’m fine,” she told us, repeatedly.

“The tales are sparse, but they speak of each of you,” Gildor went on, “Might you introduce yourselves?”

Rylan Lovelock

Bryn

Thea Chandler

Fuego Nevermere

Hetzel Sophson, and this is War Pig

Ruinfea

At her name, Gildor stopped in his tracks as the color drained from his face.

“R . . . Ru . . . Ruinfea? But they told me you were dead!”

“Well, obviously I’m not. They clearly lied to you.”

We stated at this sudden exchange, not sure what to make of it. Then, adding to our sudden befuddlement, Gildor embraced our Ruinfea, an act which she returned.

“it’s okay,” she said choking back tears (but whether out of sorrow or joy I cannot say). “This is my little brother.”

“Not so little anymore, though,” Gildor replied pointedly.

Arm in arm, they entered Lymdell.

We made our way inside to scenes of chaos. Everything near the wall had been obliterated; smoking, sputtering pyres burned dead Glabrazu (but no elves). Lymdell, indeed, was imperiled. We didn’t draw attention to ourselves. Well, almost. Certain guards and citizens looked askance at Rylan and Fuego, but seeing them with us, including Gildor, seemed to put them at an outward ease.

“I’m glad Carrion isn’t here,” Rylan remarked dourly.

“I still can’t believe you are alive,” Gildor remarked to Ruinfea. “How is this possible?”

“I’d like to know why they told you I’d died,” Ruinfea countered.

“Well, we asked a lot of questions . . .”

“And what of Lindear?” Ruinfea asked, curiosity tinging her voice.

Gildor sighed. “He . . . he went down another path.”

“Which one?”

“A different one.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Remember how little we were?”

“But Mother and Father still shouldn’t . . .”

“They said you’d made your choice.”

“Choice? Ha! They disowned me and kicked me out.”

Rylan hugged her. “Ruinfea, I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged noncommittally.

“They’re here, you know,” Gildor told her.

“Oh, no.”

“There was a general draft, and I tried to get father a pass; after all, what good would I be if I couldn’t even protect my own family? But no, he insisted he do his duty. You should talk to them.”

“That would be . . . messy.”

“They’re staying at the Silver Thorn, for what it’s worth.”

“If you want to go talk to them, we’ll do what you want,” Rylan assured her. “We’ll go with you or leave you be or . . .” his voice trailed off as he realized perhaps a visit to Ruinfea’s parents wasn’t the best idea.

“OK, then at least talk to your brother. Fill him in on everything he doesn’t know. And you’d better take credit for yourself, too. This isn’t the time for false modesty.”

“As I said,” Gildor said, “stories have reached us of all of you . . .”

“I am certain that whatever they say of you sister, the half has not been told.” Rylan replied with certainty.

“Speaking of stories,” Ruinfea said slyly, “what did our dear parents tell you happened?”

“They said after Kava died you lost your mind and spoke nonsense about equality, family, honor, and duty – but that you forsook your own family and thought we didn’t matter anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous. They never liked or approved of Kava. And this is exactly why I shouldn’t see them.”

Gildor looked at Ruinfea sadly, then tried changing the subject.

“Dewport is not an easy journey. You must be tired after such a trip, and then battling those foes on top of it.”

“We came by sloop,” Rylan informed him, motioning towards Loray.

Loray nodded. “They came on my sloop, the Morning Star, and their only goal was to save as many people as possible. The same goal they had in Dewport, I might add.”

“Rather than fight over family relations,” Thea suggested, “maybe we should go help the injured?”

“That might be best,” Gildor agreed. “This is the first respite we’ve had since the attack began.”

“They’ll be more of them?” Thea asked.

“They are unrelenting.”

“What type are they?” Rylan wanted to know.

“All manner of demon have appeared before our gates. Some say Fraz-Urb’luu has been summoned somewhere in the forest.”

“You know what I think?” Rylan proffered. “I think that everywhere else we stopped the gate from opening. Whereas there we’ve been a step ahead, I think now we’re a step behind.”

“I’m all for thrashing another god,” Hetzel chimed in happily.

“So we’re in agreement then?” Rylan asked us. “We go to the temple to help those who are injured?”

“What about those of us without magic?” Hetzel asked. “What can we do?”

“You can help resupply our stores and plan strategy,” Rylan told her confidently.

“Good. I could use some fighting armor,” Fuego said with a sigh.

“I was going to ask you about that myself . . .” Thea told him.

“Come on, dad; let’s get you something nice,” Hetzel said, punching his arm.

“You’ll need money,” Ruinfea reminded her, opening the drawstrings of her bag.

“Your money is no good here,” Gildor told her. “You’ve offered Lymdell a service, and it will be repaid. Tell the armorer and other military merchants that I sent you.”

“What about a place to sleep?” Thea asked.

“I can recommend the Petite Bluebell, just across from the temple where we’re keeping the injured.”

“Will War Pig be permitted there?” Hetzel wanted to know.

There was a discussion of accommodations, as Hetzel wanted to stay with War Pig, but most inns don’t want animals in guest’s rooms. Hetzel, of course, didn’t want to be separated from her companion. She reluctantly agreed to a room overlooking a stable.

“War Pig is Hetzel’s emotional support,” Rylan tried to carefully explain. “separating the two of them for long is ill-advised. He’s just like family.”

“I wouldn’t know about all that,” Glidor replied sadly, a look of loneliness crossing his face.

“You know what that means, though, right?” Rylan asked him. “It means that you’re our family now, too.”

“But you don’t know me,” he protested.

“No, but Ruinfea hugged you, and that’s enough for us,” Thea replied.

“It’s kinda what we do,” Fuego told him.

Gildor gave a small smile. “Be that as it may, we have things to accomplish.”

“I’ll see the quartermaster outfits you,” he said to Feugo. Then, turning to Ruinfea, he continued

“Can we meet on the other side of all this?”

“Yes, we need to she replied. “You need to hear the truth, and I need to hear of your brother.”

And so saying, we split up.

#### *The Temple (Rylan, Thea, Ruinfea, Bryn)*

The Temple of the Seldarine stood tall. While the toils of conquest had not yet reached the doors of the temple, it did not shine with its usual splendor, as the halls were filled with the scent of blood and brimstone and crowded with the sick and injured in a makeshift field hospital.

Thea and Ruinfea and myself practiced our arts with no problem, the clerics triaging patients and providing supplies as needed. They were skeptical of Rylan, as were those he tried to heal. Soon, I noticed the clerics directing Rylan to the unconscious and incoherent. He was the most subdued I have ever seen him, moving quickly and quietly from patient to patient, taking the verbal barbs thrown at him with a kind of grace. He even put on silk gloves so that his skin would not touch those he healed.

Apparently, the city of Lymdell had demons within its walls, too.

Our task complete, Rylan, Ruinfea, and Thea began to cross the street to the Petite Bluebell.

“You all go on and I’ll catch up with you,” I told them. “I need to talk to someone.”

They left, and I stood alone in the temple for just a moment before being approached by a wizened high elf, dressed in simple robes that had seen better days.

“I am Elgan Sarriel,” he said by way of introduction.

Bryn takes a brief moment to collect herself. She half wishes she’d had the time to talk to Rylan or Thea and wonders if it was wise to do this on her own. But here she is, for better or worse.

.

Bryn bows to the elf in a sign of respect for his position and age.

.

“Pleased to meet you, Elgan Sarriel. I am Brynwick Nibnibbler, cleric of Oghma from Spriggan and member of the company known as the Third Family. We came to Lymdell because she called for aid, but I would have found my way here nonetheless. I seek knowledge and information.”

Elgan smiles a bit at Bryn's words, though they are a kind of far away sad that comes from age, especially in a very recent time of hardship. I am not surprised to hear that one of Oghma's own comes to the Seldarine seeking knowledge. Long have our gods been a friend to yours." His face turns somber in the moment. "I am truly sorry to hear about the hardships of Spriggan. Did you come from there?"

“Indeed, I did.” Bryn replies kindly with a tinge of nostalgia (maybe even homesickness).  “If I may ask, what have you heard of Spriggan? It seems many weeks since I was last there.”

"We heard about Spriggan shortly before we were assaulted by these forces from Hell, so I apologize if the information is out of date. It can take some time for news to reach us. We heard of the dreaded Orcus, and his attack on the city with his undead armies. Last we heard, the High Priest of your Order had something to do with it, and that he was being punished for his atrocities against Spriggan." He looks down at the ground, stoically for a moment. "It is always difficult when the desires of the living outweigh their virtue."

Bryn, too, looks down, and slightly shuffles her feet before raising her head slightly to look back up at Elgan. “That, too, was the last news I heard. Perhaps those atrocities have something to do with my current  situation. For some time I have felt . . . lost, shall we say. I have heard of a ritual one might perform here to transport them mentally to the plane of knowledge, so that they might commune with Oghma more closely. This is the knowledge and information I seek.”

Elgan nods, seeming understanding what it is that Bryn is seeking. He sits down on the edge of an empty cot, resting his body, but also allowing himself to speak more eye to eye with Bryn. "You are a \*cleric\* of Oghma, yes? Not a paladin or humble priest? When you pray to him, what does your God of Knowledge say to you? When you tell others about your faith, how does he reply? Have  you found your gifts from him to be far from you?"

Bryn pauses to think, unsure of how much to trust Elgan. But nothing good came from hiding the truth. “I have been a cleric since I was born. Oghma sent a miracle to me in Little Grove. And for ninety years I have felt him when I pray: a voice or wisdom or . . . something. But since Spriggan he felt distant and then a day or so ago, silence. The power he has granted me is still there; in fact maybe even more powerful. But the silence is . . . unfathomable”

"And your order? Are they penitent for their actions? Once they realized that they had transgressed, did they serve to make good by it?"

“I cannot say. I expressed anger, certainly, but sorrow? Perhaps not. I felt their transgression was not mine to share, for our leaders betrayed us as well. Perhaps that was a mistake. Perhaps it was wrong to think merely punishing the guilty was enough to make restitution.”

.

Bryn falls silent, but it is clear she is not done speaking.

.

“And when given the chance to speak for my order, I hedged, believing myself unworthy. I have come to see that was a mistake. It is not my worth Oghma desires. He desires my action match my beliefs.”

.

“I seek Oghma to know how I might set things right, or at least move them in that direction. But if I cannot speak to him on this plane . . .”

.

She looks at Elgan with a look of genuine sorrow mixed with hope  that things might not be as bad as they seem.

Elgan simply nods, though there is a touch of sadness in it. "You seek out that knowledge, Brynwick. And you are clearly still devoted to Oghma and his teachings. Are you willing to leave the Order behind, even if they believe they had done nothing wrong?"

Bryn looks somber. This is the only life she has known. “Leaving the Order is not the same as leaving Oghma. I can follow him without the hierarchy. But being a cleric is all I have known. Am I still Oghma’s cleric if I am not of the Order? I ask only so that I might truthfully describe myself to those who ask, for I would not misrepresent myself, or bring further disgrace to Oghma himself.”

Elgan shakes his head gently. "I cannot answer that question for you. I don't even think that Oghma could, either. How you define yourself is not up to me, or Him, or the Order. That is your journey to take. Do you follow his tenants? Do you spread his word? From what I have known in my very long life, it is not about an order or leaders, it is about faith."

Bryn shakes her head. “You are right, of course. I must leave that to Oghma as well. But to answer your question: yes. I would leave it behind . . .

.

(she pauses, and gulps)

.

. . . “along with its privileges, if that’s what is necessary”

"Then answer in truth: What privileges did it give you that you cannot live without?"

“None that matter. I love the library, but I have learned that people are more important than paper . . . and pens, too. The privilege fed my pride, and I fear a friend died because of it. It is nothing I cannot live without, though the difference between knowledge and actions is often great.”

He let a silence linger between them, his wizened hands resting on his knees. After allowing Bryn to sit with her thoughts for a moment, he asks, "Do you still seek to speak to Oghma on the Plane of Knowledge?"

Bryn looks into his face and eyes, hoping to discern what the right answer might be. But as much of the conversation proved, Elgan could give no answers in personal matters.

.

How important was this?  Bryn remembered the silence of her prayers and would do almost anything to hear Oghma again.

.

“Yes. Yes I do.” she whispers in a voice that is quavering, yet determined.

"I suppose, then, you seek out something that can only be offered by Labelas Enoreth." He gestures towards a statue that they are not so far from. A statue of a tall figure, wrapped in a cloak, with a wreath of greens upon his head. The figure's right eye wore an eyepatch, hiding what might lie underneath. Though he was a figure of power, he looked young. (The equivalent of 13 to 16 years old in a human.) In his arms he cradled an hourglass, the sands running through the glass, seemingly in motion, though the statue was made of immovable stone. "Labelas Enoreth is a good god, though he remains distant to the realm since the Time of Troubles. If you seek Oghma through the Seldarine, the path would be through him."

Bryn looks at the statue, intrigued by the seemingly moving sand and slightly cowed by the subject’s impressive stance.

.

She turns back to Elgan.

.

“My apologies; I’ve never approached another god before . . . at least, not on friendly terms. What must I do?”

"That will always depend on the god," Elgan says, rising from his perch and following to stand behind Bryn to look upon the figure. "Every one of them has their own rules and insights and needs and wants. They are like us, but not like us, for it is us who shapes them, and they who shape us. Luckily, Labelas Enoreth has always been one that mortals can approach, since his desire has always been to spread wisdom through the ages. It was he, along with Moonbow, who granted the elves the gift of long life. Like most of the gods, though, Labelas Enoreth does not live on our plane, but in the Higher Realms. The journey there could be dangerous, no matter what method you choose. If it is knowledge you seek, though, the door may open with Labelas. You may commune with him here, even though our Temple has seen... holier... days. The relics of his that we keep here might aid you in accessing the Plane of Knowledge, but I always advise caution. Mortals were not meant to travels to the Realms, though it has been done before."

“I have been told time works differently on the Plane. My party . . . my \*friends\* will be expecting me.

.

And yet I do not know what tomorrow will bring; we seem to rush from place to place.

.

But from what I understand, this is the first in some time that Lymdell has had a respite. Perhaps I should take advantage of the relative peace.

.

A look crosses her face.

.

And as I told someone recently: the one who incurs the debt must pay the price. This is mine; or one of them, at least.

.

If you’ve some sealing wax I might use, I would attempt the journey.”

Bryn looks at Elgan. “You’ve been most helpful already; I hate to impose further. As time is fleeting, is it possible a scroll might be prepared? With suitable payment and respect due to Lord Enoreth, of course.”

Elgan considers this for a moment before speaking. "I do not have much need of anything myself. I took a vow of sobriety and poverty as I became closer to the Seldarine. However, I will need to bequeath this power from Labelas Enoreth himself, and it is the payment to him that I would require. He himself is fascinated by the Material Plane, and enjoys collecting rare and unique items from it. I would imagine one of these objects would be payment enough for an audience with him. I can prepare the scroll in such a way that you may use it at any time, and only once, barring that you have such a unique item prepared for him. Would that suffice?"

“That would indeed suffice. The object, then, would be consumed when the scroll is cast?”

"Yes, I imagine to be given to Labelas Enoreth himself."

Bryn nods. “Then we have an accord. One final question: does the spell transport the caster only, or some other number of individuals? I ask only so that I may be prepared.”

"This spell will be used to open a door to Labelas Enoreth's realm in the Plane of Knowledge. Whomever walks through with you will be transported there as well. How you, or others, return will be dependent on what you do while there."

Bryn gives a small smile “I am most appreciative. You have given me the knowledge and information I seek, the means to go where needs be going, and the ability to consult with my friends beforehand. I shall remember you to Oghma when next we speak, and to Labelas Enoreth as well, if you desire such a thing.”

"I leave that decision in your hands, " he says with a simple bow. "Return in the morning, and I should have it prepared."

“Tomorrow then.”

.

And with a simple bow to Elgan, and another to the statue of Enoreth, Bryn leaves the temple.

#### *The Quartermaster (Hetzel, Fuego, Loray)*

Meanwhile, Hetzel, Fuego, and Loray (along with War Pig) made their way to the quartermaster.

Looking them over, the surly elf replied “So. What you folks need?”

“Well, see, like, we defeated a bunch of guys outside and so the general guy said you would fix us up with what we need,” Hetzel tried explaining.

“Huh? What ‘general guy’?”

“She means General Gildor . . . I’m not going to try pronouncing his last name. But we drove off a bunch of demons just outside the gate, as well as destroying or capturing some siege equipment. And in payment, General Gildor sent us to you for supplies and armor,” Fuego tried explaining.

“Oh, you’re those Third Family people folks have been talking about,” he said somewhat dismissively. Then looking over Fuego, he grumbled “Don’t think I’ve got anything in your size, anyhow.”

“What a coincidence. We’re here in a smithy and you. make. things.” Hetzel replied testily.

“True,” the armorer replied, unamused. “But things take time. Leather can be done overnight. Metalwork takes longer.”

“I’m fine with leather,” Feugo told him, trying to remain amiable. “I need to move.”

The quartermaster looked him over. “I’ll need to take your measurements, of course. Would you be comfortable with someone like me becoming so . . . intimately acquainted with your person?” he asked, nastily.

“That depends. Would someone like you be uncomfortable being so close to someone like me?”

A smirk came across the quartermaster’s face. “I’ve got some fine dragonhide on hand, or I can get some other leather tomorrow, if your willing to wait. I’ll be lesser quality, too, of course.”

As the word “dragonhide” left the armorers lips, Hetzel looked to Fuego. She was pissed and ready to knock some skulls.

Fuego recognized the look.

“Don’t,” he told her. “You could make short work of everyone in here – except perhaps myself (end even then you’d give me a run for my money) – but just . . . don’t.”

And why not? A voice in his head asked him. They don’t even like you anyway . . .

Fuego took some deep breaths and clenched a fist, releasing it slowly.

“The dragonhide you have on hand is fine,” he said, equally slow.

“Pshh.” Hetzel exclaimed. “I need to write my father. He’ll send you some real Dwarven armor. Not the crap this guy’s giving you.”

“I’m certain your family does fine metalwork, Mistress Dwarf” he spat back, “but leather takes skill.”

“A skill passed down in my family for generations. The finest under the hills, and probably the best over them, too. Elves talk a fine game, but your no dwarves.”

“As I said, dwarves don’t know shit about leather.”

“Guess I’ll just have to talk to general who’s-his-name . . .”

“If you’re so good, where’s your armor, then?”

“No need to cover perfection.”

What little civility the quartermaster had melted away.

“We appreciate your time,” Loray told him, stepping out from the corner where he’d been leaning. He moved to get Hetzel out of the way. Hetzel swore in dwarvish.

“Indeed. I appreciate the time and effort you will expend on the general’s request. I will be sure he knows of the hospitality we have received.” Fuego said in a saccharine voice. He left last, carefully closing the door behind him.

#### *The Petite Bluebell*

Leaving me at the temple, Thea, Rylan, and Ruinfea crossed the street to the Petite Bluebell. Inside, bawds and bards kept a crowd lively and happy. They approached the innkeep, a kindly-faced forest elf.

“Welcome! Though, I don’t seem to recognize you?”

“We were sent by Gildor,” Rylan began.

“Oh yes!” the innkeeper interrupted. “The Third Family, who has come to Lymdell’s aid. We have prepared accommodations for you; in fact, several of our guests have given up their rooms so you might have some comforts.”

Rylan looked around the room, then down at himself.

“Oh, I could never do that,” he said.

“No,” Thea agreed. “No one goes without because of us.”

“Agreed,” said Ruinfea. “Just a room, two at the most, and we’ll all bunk together.”

The woman looked at Rylan with soft, understanding eyes. “Then I’ll give up my own room.”

“No, don’t do that either,” Rylan said. “Never let it be said I took anything from a citizen of Lymdell without proper payment or restitution.”

The bard noticed Rylan’s arrival. He began playing a tune

***BALLAD: How the Dhaerow Earned Their Hue***

*We are warned by the gods to honor each other,*

*we know what will happen if we don’t remain true.*

*This humble bard shall sing the tale*

*of how the dhaerow earned their hue.*

Once upon a time,

*all elves were bound in love and trust.*

*We'd probably be united still,*

*if not for dhareow hubris.*

The dhareow! The dhaerow!

*Though Vandria cried sooth,*

*to them their ears would hear no more,*

*and they locked out the truth.*

Corellon and Araushnee

*were lovers when it started*

*though Corellon did love her so,*

*it was power that she wanted.*

Thrice she tried to take his life.

*And thrice went unfulfilled.*

*And while she should have met her death,*

*Corellon loved her still.*

The dhareow! The dhaerow!

*Though Solas called their name,*

*their vain and haughty sight called out for*

*blindness just the same.*

Araushnee would not stop there.

*She could have walked away,*

*but hatred filled her heart like ice,*

*so it was war she swayed.*

She called upon her dhaerow brood,

*who swore a blood-soaked vow!*

*In honor of their Banished Queen*

*they sent others to Moonbow.*

The dhareow! The dhaerow!

*Though Hanali still embraced them,*

*venom filled their lips for lies*

*that they would not condemn.*

And so, my friends, this warns us all:

*the elven clans did shatter.*

*Araushnee preferred banishment,*

*and the dhaerow followed after.*

The dhareow! The dhaerow!

*So Corellon, with heavy crown,*

*could not ignore the heinous crimes;*

*so he marked their skin for all of time,*

*and filled their mouths with sour blight,*

*and cursed their eyes to see no light,*

*and drove them underground!*

May Lolth embrace them now!

The matron looked at Rylan, then the bard, then back to Rylan. It was clear that, whatever course Rylan chose, she would back her up.

“You know what?” Rylan asked rhetorically. “I think tonight is a good night to take a watch on the wall. If you could please pack my dinner to go, I will be sure to be the envy of all for having your cooking.”

The hostess nodded and began boxing up dinner for the three.

The bard cast a snarky comment in Rylan’s direction.

“And you, my good bard,” Rylan called. “What is your name? Your voice is lovely, and I should like to tell my mother, my friend Tiago the ambassador, and my close acquaintance the Hand of your skill.”

“Baolaon is the only name I need – the Wandering Tongue.”

“I shall be sure to tell my Lady of Light of your . . . charms,” Rylan said, flourishing his shield.

“Is it true that all Drow males have venom?”

“Sorry, you’re not my type.” Rylan went on, and tried placating the scoundrel with honeyed words.

As they left, Thea gave him a parting shot:

“A bard is nothing without an audience.”

#### *Through the Night*

They stepped outside, and Rylan began crying. At that moment, the group returned from the forge, and I came out of the temple.

We consoled Rylan as best we could, and began discussing what to do about accommodations. We’d just about determined we’d spend the night in a stable when Loray spoke up.

“Of course, you’re always welcome in my tent,” and finding a spare corner, he unfurled a tent and spoke the words “be my home.”

We entered an adventurer’s hut, with room and food and beds to spare.

As we tucked in, Rylan said

“I’m still taking that watch, though. I can’t wait to put this place behind me.”

“Agreed.” Thea and Ruinfea said simultaneously.

“If you don’t mind, Rylan,” I finally piped up, “I’ll join you for a bit. There’s some stuff I need to talk through.”

“Sounds good. I could use the company.”

#### *Night Watch*

Night had fallen. It had been some time since the Third Family had come to settle in to the little tent that Loray had set up on the far side of the town. The tent itself blended with the tents of the military encampment, small shelters for the soldiers that had come to Lymdell. With the sun down, the skies were even darker than before. Smoke obscured the stars, keeping even their humble glow from reaching the Elven city. It cast the city's buildings in deep tones of somber grey and lifeless blue. Even the humble fires that burned outside the tents or the candles that lit the interiors of homes and businesses could offer no real light beyond a few meager steps. The only color that stood out among it all was a streak of red that blazoned against the columns of smoke. There was a large fire burning in the east, it seemed, and it painted the tops of trees and the wall of smoke with its anger and rage. For now, the city was quiet, though a low ringing could be heard coming from somewhere outside the walls; the distant drone of many hammers upon many anvils.

The hour's watch begins.

It wasn’t punctuality that had the shadowed man ready ten minutes before the shift in watch; with an often unused simple cloak draped around his shoulders with the hood pulled close anonymity was easily achieved. Only those who knew the rogue, or was it just paladin now, would be there waiting. It was better that way. Otherwise he would risk another barb, another slice in the aloof armor that Rylan had spent well over a century perfecting. Self-preservation had painted him as the ingratiating and laissez-faire gentry and he wasn’t about to let anyone know how empty and broken the events of the day made him feel. And so he waited for whomever wanted to take the watch with him, arms crossed over his chest to self-soothe and if it happened to look like he couldn’t be bothered than all the better.

Bryn stood on the wall with Rylan, remembering the smell and taste and warmth of Loray’s coffee. Wrapped in a borrowed cloak she’d found . . . somewhere, Bryn shuddered for a moment, but whether it was from a night breeze or something else would be hard to determine.

.

“Thank you for letting me stand watch with you, if only for a few hours. I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you since Spriggan, but things just seem to cascade and we rush about and I just need to talk to someone.”

.

She looks at Rylan somewhat sadly.

.

“Then again, things have changed since then. Perhaps it’s a good thing the right time never presented itself.”

As always, Bryn was one of the few people who could chase tension away for him. Rylan gently waved off her thanks, truthfully she was one of the few on his short list of people that he trusted to watch his back. “Of course. I’m grateful for the back up.” It was the news she wanted to speak with him that tore his full focus away from the horizon.

“Well you have... ninety percent of my full attention, but only on account of the demonic army lurking out there.” His voice softened and he shifted to lean against the nearby wall. “What’s on your mind Bryn?”

.

“Well, there’s a bit that’s all . . . jumbled about because I’ve been thinking it through and, well, you know I’m more comfortable writing than speaking.

.

The first thing is, I wanted you to have the translation key for my account. You know, in case you needed it. That will help with the deep speech and gnomish. I mean, what’s the use of writing something if it can never be read, right?”

.

\*she hands Rylan a piece of paper\*

“Bryn...” Looking back and forth between the paper in his hands and the cleric, Rylan’s face a kaleidoscope of shocked reverence.

“I know how important this is to you. Thank you... for trusting me. But ‘first thing’ means there’s more...?”

“Well, yes. And it’s about trust. I’ve always \*liked\* you, Rylan -  from that very first day in Little Grove. But after Spriggan, when you told the council in Dewport that you would only believe something if it came from me . . . that’s when I knew I could \*trust\* you; that I was more to you than just someone who stumbled into an adventure or a person whose home needed saving. Maybe I should’ve figured it out before then, but that’s on me.

.

So when you offered to literally carry me into battle? Far from being an offense, it was perhaps the greatest compliment I could have received: to go into battle with a friend confident I’d have their back.

.

And it’s why I know I can trust you with what’s next.”

.

\*Bryn pauses to collect her thoughts and looks to see if Rylan will say anything or if he will wait for Bryn to continue\*

Immediately his face softened, the constant playful mask slipping away to show his honest emotions. The weight of not only everything Bryn was saying but of everything in his past.

“All my life I’ve been told how women were better than something like me, some\*one\* like me. Simply due to the circumstances of their birth; that down to their very nature they were sacred, powerful, hell just more. And while that was taught since birth it wasn’t until meeting you, Ruinfea, & Thea that the propaganda made sense. Because you all represent what my mother and our culture plays pretend at being; you’re all so \*good\*. I will never understand why you put up with keeping something me around but by the Gods, I’m grateful. I’ll never fail you all again; you put your faith in me and I’ll try so hard to not disappoint you.”

With a sigh, he rubs at the back of his neck absentmindedly, “So of course I want you to have my back! It’s our party; Tiago, hell Valendra on account of the Guild, and now Loray that have found a place in my life but I know sure as the stars above that there’s no one else I’d want to take on the Gods beside. So whatever it is, you’ve got me. No judgments, no questions. Minimal teasing but only to lessen the tension, if needed.”

Bryn gives Rylan a small smile which may or may not be visible in the dim night.

“How different our upbringings. I suppose I \*was\* considered sacred and powerful . . . even if it was for all the wrong reasons. And if I’ve been \*good\*, well, I’ve only ever done what I thought Oghma wanted me to do: to tell the truth and act with integrity.

.

\*Bryn stops again and her expression become more worried.\*

.

But somethings wrong, Rylan, and I don’t know what it is. You know about my mark. Well, it burned in Spriggan.; Dewport it was an irritant; on our way to the Court of Coral it became so incessant that it interrupted my prayers.

.

But the return voyage was even worse: there was nothing. No throbbing, no burning . . . but no Oghma either. I felt a silent, empty void. I have my power, but my god is missing.

.

I thought maybe there was a disruption of some kind, like had happened when Siobhan died. I wondered if maybe, when you called me the Voice of Oghma and I denied it, if I’d ruptured something.

.

So I stayed behind and talked to one of the temple priests today about faith and what it means to be a cleric.

.

As a result of that conversation, I’ve commissioned a spell scroll that will open a door to the plane of knowledge, by the grace of Labelas Enoreth, so that I (and anyone who so chooses) might go in search of Oghma.

.

Of course, there is a price which I will pay, and I’ve been warned both that time works differently on the plane, and that the door is one-way . . . but there it is.

.

That’s what’s weighing on my heart and mind. I don’t like keeping secrets, but the thought of just coming out and telling the entire party . . . that frightens me, too.”

.

\*Bryn closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh as her eyes begin to well with tears. She is both afraid of Rylan’s possible reaction and relieved to have finally shared what’s been bothering her.\*

“It is always the Best of Us that thinks they are the least; the fact that you actively try to do what’s best says everything I need to know about your character.”

But it is as Bryn starts to tell her tale that Rylan’s brows drawn together in concern. He listens attentively even as his heart breaks for the burden his friend has been carrying for so long and it’s not until he hears her sigh that he moves. Taking to one knee, Rylan gently places a warm hand on either of her shoulders and tilts his head sidewise to catch her gaze. All the while making sure they were eye to eye.

“Oh \*Bryn\*...” his own voice catches in emotion as his own eyes fill with tears. “You didn’t rupture anything. You had something atrocious hurt you. That mark is a violation of one of the purest souls I’ve ever met. And wicked gods delight in separating the good people from their loving divines. I called you The Voice of Oghma because you are; you couldn’t lie if your life depended on it! I’ve seen it. You don’t have a duplicitous bone in your body and your thirst for knowledge proves you are Oghma’s through and through. And if anyone knows about being smothered by a wicked god and kept from the one whose chosen them, it’s me. Oghma is with you and I will personally help you kick whichever hackneyed huckster wannabe immortal that had the sheer audacity to hurt you. And if that means a jaunt to another plane, so be it.”

He smiles softly, as comforting as someone with his face could manage and hoping that it could be some relief. “You’re \*family\* Bryn. Family I \*never\* thought I was worthy of. And \*they\* are your family too. You could be some all powerful lich and you’d still have all of us. Because of who you are. Not your magic.”

And very slowly, allowing her to pull away if she needed to Rylan opens his arms for a warm hug, not letting go until Bryn did.

The hug lasted longer than perhaps either of them intended or anticipated, but it allowed Bryn to release all the pent-up inner emotions that had been eating at her.

.

“Thank you. I needed that. And as for your words . . . well, if I’m even a fraction of the person you think I am . . .

.

\*her voice cracks\*

.

I never knew having real, true friends could be this good.

.

\*she composed herself\*

.

You know I’m not like you; I need to sleep sometime - but if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay here for as long as I can.”

Maybe it was because until Tiago he never experienced it, but if anyone understand the way a hug could help the soul it was Rylan.

“Nothing to thank. And I know you are. Full faith. And you’re not the only one. Friends are... healing, I guess the word would be.”

Tugging off his cloak, Rylan quickly made a soft and warm place for Bryn to rest along the wall, not trusting this town and her occupants from accosting someone dear to him simply because they were connected to him.

“Then get some sleep. I’ve got your back this time.”

And so Bryn rested herself against the wall, watching and listening as her friend kept watch until heaviness overtook her eyes and sleep came softly. She knew she had unburdened herself, and hoped that one day she could return the favor.

#### *Morning in Limdell*

Morning broke over Lymdell in a dim light overcast by the fires burning in the forest as sunlight barely pierced the sky. As officers left their tavern havens, citizens and soldiers alike took their places for the day’s assault.

We were greeted by Gildor, who was waiting with several escorts in anticipation of our approach.

When we just stood there looking at him, he waved at Rylan and Ruinfea, each of whom grunted a tired “g’morning” in return.

Gildor smiled. “Sleep well?”

“A little bit,” Ruinfea answered.

“I see. Anything else to report?”

“A quiet watch,” Rylan told him.

“It always is.”

“But that makes no sense. Glabrazu are nocturnal creatures. It would make more sense for them to rest during the day and attack at night.”

“Are you implying these creatures want a siege, rather than simply overrunning our fortress?”

“I don’t know, but it’s . . . odd. Like I said, it should be opposite. This feels like trouble, like what you might expect from an enemy if you didn’t know them any better.”

“I must admit this is the first I’ve heard of such a theory.”

As Rylan continued to explain Glabrazu physiology, Gildor grew more and more uncomfortable.

“How long have you been repelling their attacks?” RYlan asked.

“Weeks.”

“By the gods . . .” Ruinfea sighed in a mix of sympathy and admiration and fear.

“Why did you wait to call for aid?” Rylan asked.

“We didn’t. We started sending out messages and couriers the second night.”

“Maybe the main road is blocked?” Thea wondered.

“Did you send them out by day or night?” Rylan continued.

“At night, through the forest.”

“And did any return?”

“No. No riders; and no ravens, either.”

“What if whatever is out there is picking and choosing who gets through . . .” Ruinfea offered.

“You were the first to survive, that we know of. Lymdell was assaulted and Hilan answered the call. We received occasional reinforcements, but they didn’t last long.”

“More and more, this doesn’t feel right,” Rylan muttered, obviously turning something over in his mind.

#### *Family Matters*

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Ruinfea told him, “My parents here and alive – that’s what’s wrong.”

“Have you seen them today?”

“I might have to.”

“Do I need to make myself scarce?”

“No, I need you with me. There isn’t anything more they can do to me that they haven’t already done.”

“So, we face them together. Strength in numbers and all that.”

“Discombobulate them, at any rate,” Ruinfea agreed.

Gildor stood in shock at this change of discussion. He looked back and forth between Ruinfea and Rylan, seeing a history in their relationship without fully understanding it.

“Just tell me what to do,” Rylan assured Ruinfea. “I can even become the nightmare boyfriend, if that’s what you want.”

“Or really give them a heart attack and show up with me,” Fuego chimed in.

Ruinfea looked at him, smiled, and gave a small chuckle. “Sorry, Fuego, but you definitely would not be a shock.”

Rylan gave Ruinfea an entirely new look of awe and admiration.

Gildor, though, continued to grow ever more uncomfortable.

Ruinfea shrugged her shoulders in his direction. “This is us.”

“But brothers should not be privy to this sort of thing,” Gildor protested.

Loray laughed heartily.

“Then how’d you learn anything?” Hetzel demanded. “Everyone knows siblings give you a better talk than your parents!”

As Rylan and Ruinfea continued to persist in making Gildor uncomfortable, he tried to change the discussion by bringing up the subject of their other brother, insert name here.

“You said he went down a different path,” Ruinfea recalled. “What did you mean by that?”

“Well, we thought you were dead. And while I grieved, he took a more . . . practical approach.”

“You mean necromancy . . .”

“Great, just what we need, more zombies!” Hetzel exclaimed.

“And I’ve had it just about to here with necromancers!” I interjected.

“Mother and father tolerated him, until he started performing dark rituals at home.”

Ruinfea laughed sarcastically. “Of course they did. And then what did they do?”

“They sent him on his way.”

“Where did he go?”

“The last I heard, he was headed in the direction of Ga’al al Fell – the dead city.”

Rylan grew somber. “That was a Drow city, one of the few on the surface. The original settlers worshipped the moon goddess, but were wiped out by other Drow for heresy. There is not god but Loth to a majority of us. The minority never lasts long.”

Thea looked confused.

“But why there?” Ruinfea wanted to know.

“Because it’s a city unto itself. It’s where runaways and bloodhunters can find some peace and security. They’ve got no problem with necromantic books.”

“And Mother and Father disavowed him, I suppose?” Ruinfea questioned.

“Not necessarily, but he’s certainly not welcome. He kept the family name, of course.”

“Of course,” Ruinfea laughed sarcastically.

“Look, you don’t have to see them . . .” Gildor began.

“I think I have to.”

“I didn’t tell them you were here, so it’s really up to you when you want to do this. Are you thinking before or after the assault?”

“Rylan?”

“Don’t look at me; I don’t know.”

“Well, I have an appointment with the quartermaster,” Fuego pointed out.

“The ignorant racist,” Hetzel growled as she proceeded to fill Gildor in on the events of the previous day.

“Never underestimate someone willing to break the law for their own pleasure and profit,” Rylan pointed out as Gildor protested it was against regulations.

Gildor expressed his sorrw and assured Fuego that his armor would be fetched by a runner and discipline meted out.

However, when Ruinfea and Thea told him of the racist bard, there was little to be done. He was not military and not under Gildor’s authority to punish.

“That’s okay,” Thea assured him. “I’m certain he’ll take care of himself in due time.”

Gildor was still upset.

“Look, it’s really not that uncommon,” Rylan told him.

“The fact that you care shows you don’t want to emulate the wrong people,” Fuego said.

“Yeah, like our parents,” Ruinfea added. “Truth be told I’d rather fight the demon horde than deal with them. But I suppose it must be done.”

“You could always take me as your boyfriend,” Loray offered.

Ruinfea gave him a knowing look, and they proceeded to flirt. Somehow Loray ended up suggesting he strip.

“But then you’ll be cold!” Hetzel cried out.

The tips of Thea’s ears turned red.

Laughing, we went on our way, stopping briefly at the temple across the street for me to pick up the scroll.

Gildor led us to the Galanodel’s estate – a small house located in a part of the city touched by battle, having received some damage and covered in a thin layer of dirt. This part of the city was not overcrowded. Gildor knocked.

“Who’s there?” called a voice as the door opened to reveal a half-elf man with dirty straw-red hair, obviously a servant.

“Are the lord and lady available?” Gildor asked.

The servant looked him over and, recognizing Gildor, said

“Wait just a moment. Would you prefer to meet inside the house or out in the courtyard?”

“The courtyard,” replied Ruinfea.

The courtyard held benches and cherry trees, which must have looked glorious when in bloom. Moments later the doors opened and two figures walked out: high elves, tall and regal. The man wore dress armor while the woman wore a gown much too elegant for the circumstances. As they inclined their heads in greeting, their looks of welcome changed slightly as they each gave Ruinfea a strange look.

“Members of the Third Family,” Gildor said, “may I introduce you to my parents, Lady Keyleth And Lord Hadarai Galanodel.”

Rylan barely inclined his head; Ruinfea simply smirked at them. Hetzel cocked her head, crossed her arms, and placed one foot in front of Ruinfea, ready to protect her. Thea and I performed a kind of curtseying bow appropriate for the respect due their station, but nothing more. Fuego, too, was cautiously courteous. We could see the gears turning as the words hit home.

“The Third Family . . .?” Lord Hadarai asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Gildor replied firmly. “They saved the town yesterday, and I thought you might like to meet the heroes responsible for your continued safety.”

“We were unaware we would be hosting such acclaimed individuals!” Lady Keyleth exclaimed. “Really, Gildor, you should have warned us.”

“Though certainly you must have heard of the wonderful acts your daughter has done,” Rylan countered. “You have done well to raise two heroes.” His honeyed words dripped with poison.

Lady Keyleth glared in anger at Gildor before turning to Ruinfea.

“Ruinfea, it’s been so many . . .” her voice trailed off.

“Days? Weeks? Months? Years?” Ruinfea asked critically. “After all, I’m dead, right?”

“We’d heard rumors,” Lord Hadarai began.

“Rumors? From who? And why would you believe them, or even care? You sent me away.”

“Perhaps it’s best if we simply move past this hurt,” Keyleth suggested.

“Move past it? I doubt it, but I suppose you might try to start telling the truth.”

“We were misinformed by couriers,” Hadarai said.

“So, you must still have the letter, correct?” Rylan asked.

“And I see the mourning ritual was cut short for your only daughter,” Ruinfea observed.

“Well, you see, we are trying for another child, and it would not be proper for such happiness in a time of sadness . . .” Keyleth tried explaining.

“Oh gods, another one? I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. You tried to kill my memory and used it as a tactic against my brothers. Someone said I went mad after Cava’s death? I hadn’t even met Cava before you disowned me!”

“Well, you always did have your predilections,” Hadarai said accusingly.

“You will not speak to your daughter in such a way,” Rylan demanded. “She holds rank far beyond your own in a realm outside the Empire, and you will treat her with the respect due her station.”

“Why you ungrateful man,” Hadarai countered. “Need I remind you where you stand?”

Meanwhile, Keyleth was glancing back and forth between Rylan and Ruinfea. Seeing this, Ruinfea flashed her Menzoberrazean signet ring in her direction.

“Matrimony?!” Keyleth exclaimed in shock and disgust.

“What have you done?” Hadarai demanded. “You’ve gone and broken your mother’s heart.”

“Marriage?” Rylan asked somewhat scornfully. “No. But if you dare threaten my sister, I will be sure to let my Mother the Matron of Menzoberrazean know her favored child is in danger. I will also be sure to write my dear friend Lyra – who you may know as the Hand of the Emperor.”

“Forgive our passions,” Keyleth replied hastily. “But this is a family discussion.”

“This is family,” Rylan countered, motioning to all of us. “And one reveals more in their passions than they care to admit.”

“Yeah, because you’re talkin’ about my sister, too.” Hetzel told them. “And forgiveness requires work, which you clearly aren’t about to do.”

“Family is more than blood,” Rylan remarked.

“You dare to lecture us on family, Drow?”

Hetzel stepped forward as Rylan replied

“How low you must be to have a Drow lecture you on family.”

“Excuse me,” Ruinfea interjected. “This is clearly worse than I imagined. The truth is I don’t want, need, or care to talk about this. You can call me a child or a traitor or whatever you will – because I do. not. care.” T

Then, taking a pause, she continued “Gildor, we need to get ready for battle.”

Lord and Lady Galanodel lifted their heads slightly and narrowed their eyes.

“May you be as fruitful as you are hateful,” Rylan tossed in their direction.

“I appreciate your service to Lymdell, and now I would appreciate it if you stay away,” Hadarai replied coolly.

“Also, punishing Gildor would be a mistake,” Ruinfea warned them.

“You speak as if you have a say in the matter, stranger,” Hadarai spat back.

Rylan brandished his shield. “Do anything and my lady will know you and name you kinslayer. The Lady of Light herself would not save you.”

Their lordships stared in shock at the symbol Rylan bore.

Thea wiped her hands on themselves, shoved them away, and turned around – symbolically washing her hands of the whole matter.

Hetzel tried to pat Gildor. “You ever thought about being a dwarf?”

“I am afraid I am not cut out for that,” he replied kindly.

Outside the courtyard and away from prying eyes, Ruinfea dropped to the ground.

We surrounded her to shield and comfort her.

“If that’s their passion, how did they ever have children,” Fuego wondered.

We tried to encourage Gildor to keep doing what was right despite his upbringing. Talk of love and marriage once again grew somewhat awkward and I choose not to recount it here.

#### *The Forest of Fraz Urb’luu*

At this point, mercifully, the runner returned with Fuego’s promised armor: leather tooled into a dragonscale design.

“Suitable,” Feugo commented as he put it on.

“Don’t worry,” Hetzel informed him, “I’ve already written to Dad Sophson and we’ll get you some proper armor.

Gildor brought out a battle map showing far-stretching forests. Blazing campfires marked the spots were it was assumed the Glabrazu were gathering.

“So, we take the fight to them,” Rylan said, looking it over.

“Might I make a suggestion?” asked Loray. “Why not use the army as a diversion while we sneak in and attack this thing at the source?”

“You think the demons would dissipate if we kill or defeat the thing summoning them?” Thea wanted to know.

“Well, at least we could make headway without any more of them being called forth,” Loray pointed out.

“I’m always up for punching another god,” Hetzel remarked warmly.

Gildor, as general, would need to lead the distraction. We prepared: arranging clothes, preparing spells, and generally trying to keep our spirits up.

Thirty minutes later, we heard to sounds of Gildor and his men advancing; the distraction had begun. We moved silently through the woods, aided by Ruinfea’s “pass without trace”. There was no wildlife, not even insects. The only sound was that of a roaring fire coming from deep in the woods. We approached a clearing, the site of a now-fallen tower whose collapsed, domed roof fed into a pool of lava.

It was a sulfurous pit, strong with heat. Bleached dry boned were piled around. Some were quite old indeed, while others still had flesh clinging to them.

Hetzel tossed a rock into the pit, which promptly consumed it.

Thea looked for symbols. The tower was old, but the foundations had ben freshly disturbed with carved marks.

Ruinfea recognized them as abyssal, and thought they might be an incomplete invocation. Unfortunately, Ruinfea was thinking out loud, and as she sounded out the message she inadvertently completed the line using a symbol carved on a rock lying at her feet.

The last word was a name: Fraz Urb’luu. As she spoke it, an even deeper silence fell over us.

Then, the ground began to quake and shake and rumble and rise. Horns and a pair of wings pierced the ground as a figure rose from the depths.

“Why did you wake me?”

We did not answer.

“Is the war over?”

“What war?” asked Ruinfea.

The massive Fraz Urb’luu bent down to speak to her.

“The forever war”

“But wouldn’t that just be all war?”

“This is my war. This is how I give it to you.”

“Who summoned you?”

“I will give a true name for a true name.”

“What’s a true name?” Ruinfea asked Loray in a whisper.

“It’s a thing’s full name. Knowing a thing’s true name can give someone power over that thing.”

“This land belongs to the Hollow Heart,” Fraz Urb’luu continued. “Do you wish to claim it back through contest?”

“Can we name the contest?” asked Thea.

Rylan jumped up on the rocks.

“Prince of Deception!” he called.

Fraz Urb’luu turned.

“Forgive me for asking, but in your divine deception, might you answer a simple question: are you still the greatest constant in the abyss?”

“The changes in nobility have no effect on me.”

“Ah. So the srabblings of others are beneath you. Would this be accurate?”

“Yes.”

“Then this will be news: a gaggle have reduced you to the level of ORcis and the Faemorians of the Faewild.”

“You are wrong. I came because they failed.”

“To Lymdell?”

“It is the jewel of Hilan.”

“It is a backwater.”

“I am here to turn the high elves. Tell me: what have you noticed?”

“The Glabrazu were an illusion, likely for your own entertainment.”

“Yes, they were an illusion.”

“And you, you were summoned here like a succubus . . .”

Fraz Urb’luu laughed at that. “No. You are here, Third Family, for an experiment. A forever war of deception and flesh bending. I will send Lymdell’s heroes back as foes.”

“That’s not a bet you should make.”

“I can take you one on one, or all together. You can decide which you prefer.”

“You have one last change to go back to hades before you make a mistake you’ll regret.”

Fraz Urb’luu lifted a rod as he growled.

Light erupted from Rylan as he pulled his sword.

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” he retorted as he swung, landing a blow before vanishing into a hide.

I conjured a guardian and spiritual weapon in anticipation of his coming attacks.

Loray winked at Ruinfea, then wooped and ran, disappearing and reappearing behind the demonic illusionist, attacking with his red and orange scimitars. His first blow struck clean, slicing where its wings met its back. But the second swing went wide, and Loray lost his balance, and began to fall towards the pit.

Ruinfea immediately misty stepped behind Loray and caught him by the arm. His hat fell into the lava, but Loray and Ruinfea themselves flew back as if pulled by an unseen force.

Falling into each other’s arms, Loray asked “Who’s the damsel now?”

Thea, meanwhile, had also climbed up onto some rocks.

Rylan cast an aura to her, and as Thea began her own spell she took on the form of a celestial. The spell was polymorph, and we watched as Fraz Urb’luu’s anger turned to confusion as the spell took hold, turning him from a massive lord of illusion into an orange-black yippy dog.

Hetzel raged and screamed as she charged the dog, stepping over his fallen rod of rulership.

Fraz Urb’luu yipped.

“You cannot defeat me. I shall return,” Rylan translated.

Hetzel ignored those words and obliterated the demonic dog with her axe.

The battle was over.

Rylan began casting a ward of protection over the ground, claiming it back from the Hollow Heart, whatever that might be. The lava pit closed itself and sealed; Rylan picked up the staff as proof of who we dealt with.

We traveled back to Lymdell under clear skies and pleasant breezes. We saw small animals begin to return. As we came nearer the city, we noticed there was no further damage to its walls or towers.

In the clearing before the gates, Gildor and his army stood somewhat confused. There were no dead Glabrezu, only a few fallen elves, scantily clothed and killed by elven weapons.

The lord of illusion had caused allies to fight each other to the death.

Gildor waved us over, and Rylan explained what went down; namely, Fraz Urb’luu

Gildor’s face clouded in a dark understanding.

“Someone called him here,” he said, mortified.

“Do not blame yourself; instead, we need to find who did this.”

We entered the city to a scene of chaotic victory. Rylan cast a divine sense as Gildor called for silence.

“It is obvious there is a traitor amongst us. I urge anyone with information to come forward.”

No one answered him.

We made our way through the city, noticing a few familiar faces. One that was noticeably missing was Lord Hadarai. Approaching their estate, we saw the servant bolt from the house.

Hetzel tried sending War Pig after him, but he was too distracted by the nearby gardens.

Fuego, though, was able to wrap him in his arms and the kid fell to the ground. “She’s gone. She’s gone. I was just doing what I was told!”

Passing them, Rylan rushed the door and knocked it down. Keyleth was over the fire, burning documents.

Rylan cast nature’s wrath entangle on her, ensnaring her and saving some documents from destruction.

Taking the staff he’d retrieved from Fraz Urb’luu, Rylan tipped her chin upwards.

“Let’s not be too hasty in destroying evidence!”

Thea, Ruinfea, and myself now entered. Ruinfea looked at her mother in disgust.

“What’s going on here?” asked Thea.

“She’s trying to burn correspondence,” Rylan began as he scanned the letters. His face grew angry. “Letters signed by one former-general Lilith Stormosin!”

I glared at the woman. “Don’t make me make you eat your words, too . . .” I threatened her.

“Coming from a knowledge cleric, I wouldn’t take that threat lightly, either,” Rylan said happily.

“I should have known!” Ruinfea shouted angrily. “You’re just as bad as you’ve always been. How could you do this?”

“I thought you said our opinions didn’t matter.”

“They matter because your opinions killed people.”

In the street, Fuego threw the servant over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“I was just following orders,” he kept repeating over and over.

“Others have said the same as well.”

We left the house, Keyleth bound behind us, and went in search of Gildor.

Ruinfea caught sight of her father and chased after him, bringing him down with a punch to the face.

“Where do you think you’re going, Stranger?”

“Can someone please tell me what on earth is going on?” Gildor shouted, arriving on the scene.

“Our mother summoned the asshole in the forest, and our father ran away, so I punched him,” Ruinfea said shortly.

Rylan handed the letters over to him. Reading them, Gildor grew cold-angry, shocked at the betrayal his parents had committed against the empire and against the family.

When Rylan accused the servant of being in on the plot as well, he began spilling his secrets.

“Stormosin was summoned. They protected her. She’s gone. I was just doing what I was told!”

“How long has she been gone?” I asked.

“Thirty minutes. I heard them mention Rapture.”

“Was it worth it for the demonic spawn in your gut?” Rylan wanted to know.

Keyleth spat at Rylan. “Ramelas Civar will rise. They are the one true emperor.”

Rylan turned to Loray. “Can you track this?”

Nodding, he ran off. Rylan turned back to Keyleth.

“You will forget that name ever existed,” he said, staring into her eyes.

“Ha! I could never forget . . .” her eyes glared in confusion, and her haughtiness turned to spite and she spit at Rylan again.

“Consider it a gift from the Knight of Summer,” he told her.

“Dharrow”

Rylan carefully wiped the spit from his face with a handkerchief.

“That might come in handy someday,” he said nonchalantly.

Thea had had enough, and when Keyleth spit on Rylan the second time, she hit her, leaving a red weal on her face.

Loray returned. “He spoke true. She’s headed in the direction of Rapture.”

“Chain them,” Rylan told Gildor, motioning to the disgraced Galanodels.

He did so, taking care not to inflict too much pain. Not none, mind you, but neither was he overzealous. His duty was clearly to the Empire.

Rylan addressed the crowd that had, by this time, gathered. “Let it be known that the only Glanodels with any honor stand before you know. Treat them as such.”

We gathered in a nearby tent to discuss what to do.

“We could chase after Stormosin, and maybe even catch her,” Rylan commented. “But this talk of a true emperor makes me think there’ll be an assassination attempt. Perhaps we should focus on the capital.”

“Of course, there’s no telling if that’s where the emperor is,” Thea pointed out.

“Do you think Tiago would know?” I asked. “Because if so, I can just asked him.

And that was how I came to send a message to Tiago: “Stormosin attacked Lymdell. Evaded capture. Headed toward Rapture. Fear assassination. Can you get us to the Emperor?”

“Emperor in Morad,” came the reply. “I will prepare myself, and so should you.” The message ended with a winky face. Tiago was winking at me??

At that moment the air shifted around us as a portal opened. Staring through, we saw the wizard tower of Morad. Tiago and Carrion and Comforte stood waiting.

Rylan stepped through dragging Keyleth in one hand. Hetzel then went, tugging on Hadarai. Loray and Ruinfea stepped through together, followed by Gildor. Thea turned toward me:

“You want to hold my hand, Bryn?” she said kindly.

“I was just about to offer myself,” Fuego said, the servant still over his back.

“Can I walk in the middle?” I asked.

And so, holding on to Thea with one hand and Fuego with the other, I allowed myself a small moment of happiness with my friends and skipped through the portal into Morad.

### **Morad**

#### *Arrival in Morad*

“Where’s my caravan?” Thea asked immediately.

“Glad to see you, too” Carrion replied somewhat testily. “Your caravan is well taken care of, and Biscuits and Gravy are the new favorites in the court stables. I . . .”

Thea cut him off. “Now that’s impressive!” and she embraced him in a big hug.

Rylan dropped his prisoner and hugged Carrion as well; I cautiously waved to Comforte standing in the corner.

There were greetings and salutations all around.

“Well, I for one am exhausted.” Tiago told us. “I can’t do that all the time, you know. But I’m concerned most about . . . them.” He motioned towards the Galanodels and the servant.

“We need to talk to Lyra about that,” Rylan replied. “We need cells for these two,” (he jerked his thumb in the direction of Ruinfea’s parents) “and we need to question their servant.”

“Well, I’m just the court wizard, not a judge that can confine . . .”

“That’s why we need Lyra. Also, we’ve brought a star witness. Gildor?”

Gildor stepped forward.

“Ah, that explains it,” Tiago said. “I’d only planned for seven or eight. I wasn’t planning on so many extra people.”

“My apologies,” I told him, “It’s my fault I didn’t tell you.”

Tiago smiled. “That all right, I’m just tired is all.” Then, turning to Carrion, he said “Go get Lyra.”

“And we should gag these two for now; don’t want them casting or anything like that,” Rylan said.

“Make sure you pull it tight, Rylan. They are strangers, after all,” Ruinfea prompted her. She shade was palpable.

Rylan gagged them with just a small amount of joy.

“While we wait,” Tiago asked, “is there anything you want to tell me that Lyra shouldn’t know?”

“Well, I don’t know what we shouldn’t know, but we found your ex headed toward Rapture.”

“She was supposed to be in exile . . .”

We laughed mockingly, but not at Tiago – more at the fact that anyone would think Lilith Stormosin would stay in exile.

“She’s taking the scenic route, apparently,” Fuego said, trying to lighten the mood.

“She had help from friends as well,” Rylan informed.

Tiago grew furious. “I told the emperor it wasn’t a good idea to exile her. I mean, if he didn’t want to execute her, he should have at least kept her under guard. But, he bent to her old allies.”

“And who are they?” I aksed, but my question went unheard.

“Well, instead of exile, she went to Lymdell where she raised the Lord of Deception,” Rylan said.

“Casualites?”

“Bad. She’s also trying to install the “true emperor” on the throne.”

“And who does she think that is?”

“Rameles Civar”

At that moment, Carrion returned with Lyra dressed in a fine long glimmering pale blue-silver gown. I could not detect any active magic, but her skin glowed with her moon-elf magic. She, too, was surprised at the number of people who’d come through the portal.

“Well,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting this kind of meeting.”

Tiago ran the introductions. When she learned we were the Third Family, her eyes lit up. It was obvious she was only letting through those emotions she wanted us to see, but this was genuine happiness and curiosity. As she gushed about the news of our exploits, she eventually noticed the prisoners on the floor.

“So, what’s all this about?”

Rylan dipped his head. “Apologies. I had wanted this to be a happier meeting. We asked Tiago to open a gate for expedience sake,” and with that prologue, Rylan began filling in Lyra about our time in Lymdell.

Lyra’s brows flattened as she listened to Rylan speak.

“I beg your pardon,” she said as he finished, “so these are . . .?”

“Lord and Lady Galanodel” Ruinfea replied sarcastically.

“Gildor’s parents?” Lyra asked, concerned.

“And Ruinfea’s, too,” Rylan said. “At least, they were before disavowing her and shucking in with the so-called ‘true emperor’.”

“True?”

“Rameles Civar . . . I’m sure you know the story. Bastard son, and all that.”

“But . . . Gildor has only been gone four days. And yet, you say Lymdell was besieged for weeks?”

“Well, it was a lord of deception . . .”

“And the assassination?”

“Stormosin was rushing off to Rapture. She and the Galanodels are trying to install the ‘true emperor’ over what they consider a ‘pretender’. We thought it best to protect the emperor and wait for them to come to us.”

Lyra nodded and summoned some guards from the hallway.

“Take this servant to the protected rooms. Make him safe and comfortable. He has been badly mistreated.” Turning to Rylan she asked, “and these are directly malicious?”

“yes, without a doubt.”

“Take them to the storm cells.”

“You may want to separate them as well. They are trying for another child for some godforsaken reason.”

“They will also be isolated with magics causing blindness and deafness and muteness – complete isolation unless we will it otherwise.”

“However,” Rylan continued, “I would point out that the duty, honor, and loyalty of their children Gildor and Ruinfea should not be called into question.”

“Even if I am a stranger to them . . .”

“They named you stranger?

“Yes, and more.”

“Then perhaps there should also be a discussion of titles. Of course, that must be handled by the courts, you understand.”

“If that is something you wish to address, so be it. However, I will not press the issue. They have nothing I need or desire.”

“And now for the most important question. I have heard your story and believe it, but we won’t be able to do anything unless there is proof beyond hearsay.”

I handed her the documents we’d rescued from the fire. She skimmed through them.

“I will personally hand these to the judge.”

“Our questions is when this might happen,” Rylan explained. “We were thinking the conspirators might make use of the upcoming autumnal ball.”

“It would be a good time,” agreed Thea.

“And these people do love a stunt,” observed Rylan.

“Agreed. There are many people and visitors to the capital, many in costume or some other disguise.”

“So, they could literally walk through the front door,” Thea pointed out.

“Just so we’re clear, this isn’t the Guild,” Rylan told Lyra. “It would be so expensive they’d give it to either me or Velandra, and she’s already busy doing something for me. After all, one cannot maintain a healthy economy when one is overrun by hellspawn.”

“Well, thank you for coming,” Lyra said. “If I might be so bold, might you assist us? Help guard the emperor?”

“Well, it’s why we’re here,” I told her.

“Can we dress pretty?” asked Ruinfea.

“If you desire. I want people to know who you are and why you are here. You are heroes and deserve to be treated as such.”

“Well, we could use a bath,” Rylan said. “and we need to meet with the Small Council. When is the ball?”

“The ball is tomorrow night; the Small Council will meet later on this evening to finalize the arrangements.”

“Until then, please keep our presence secret as much as possible. I would like our encounter with the Council to be as . . . extemporaneous as possible.”

“And maybe actually be ahead of these people for once,” Fuego commented.

Lyra turned to go, but Rylan had one more thing to say.

“Some peppermint around your windows and doors would not go amiss.”

“Yes, I had a bad infestation just a short time ago,” Loray told her.

Lyra left, and now Tiago turned toward Loray. “I’ve been told who you are, but not exactly who you are, if you catch my meaning?”

“He’s the captain!” Ruinfea replied happily.

“Of the military or a ship or . . .”

“A ship. He helps us with the Gin and Rummy or something like that. Sorry, Loray, I can’t remember the names of your boats.”

“I think you mean Djinn’s Wish and Morning Star,” I corrected her.

Loray groaned. “It pains me that you cannot remember their names. They are like my children.”

“He’s also our liason to a certain fae court,” Rylan filled in.

“It’s been a long time since I was liaison to anything,” Loray responded with a nice double entendre.

Rylan rolled his eyes, as did Tiago.

“Carrion,” Tiago asked, “Can you show our friends to their quarters?”

“Certainly.”

“Baths, then reconnaissance,” Rylan reminded us.

“Ah yes. How is the Third Family Fucked? Let me count the ways . . .” The laughed musically.

Our baths were perfectly size and appointed. We were able to scrub off the grime and gunk and stick of the previous days (weeks?). Upon emerging, we found our clothes perfectly cleaned and repaired. This must be life in the Tower of High Magics.

We made our way to a sunlight interior garden with benches and spacious sitting areas. Rylan and Thea sat on the ground, and Thea began brushing and braiding Rylan’s hair in an elaborate pattern I hadn’t seen before.

“I’m so happy to be rid of all that dirt,” Rylan sighed.

“And I got rid of those calluses that’ve been plaguing my feet,” Thea contended.

“Indeed, I am refreshed,” I agreed.

Tiago entered, also looking rejuvenated.

“I must admit I feel better,” Fuego commented, “but I could use some new clothes.”

“I think we all could,” Rylan agreed. “We’ve got a ball to attend, after all. Don’t worry about money, either. I’ll use my Sugar Daddy Money.”

We had forgotten Rylan, as part of his culture, was an object for sale. Tiago hadn’t, though, and gave him a look.

“Eh. It’s complicated.” Rylan shrugged.

Carrion, uncomfortable with this line of talk, made his way to the balcony.

Hetzel, too, was quiet, as she had been since she got here. Something was bothering her, and none of us has asked. But, before I could do anything about my realization, Tiago took her aside.

We couldn’t hear what was said, but shortly she made her way to the door with War Pig. Rylan fed him a mushroom.

“My parents are in town and things aren’t good. They’ve told me to come see them, and no one says ‘no’ to Papa Sophson. I’ll be back as quick as I can, but they might just keep me, too. I promise to write!”

And before we could even reply, she was gone. And I never even got to drink with her.

“So, what do you think of Lyra?” Tiago asked.

“I like her,” Rylan said, and we all agreed.

“So tell me,” Rylan countered, “how bad is it really?”

“Speaking freely, his royal majesty is a bit of a free spirit. He has learned nothing about ruling, but that’s to be expected. He was never intended to rule.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Well, he’s the younger sibling, you see. Ydril was meant to rise. But he went south to explore or to conquer or leave his mark or . . . something. He was warned not to; few who venture south ever return. And neither did Ydril. And now we have the boy who was never meant to rule.”

“You said before that . . . the former general had allies. Anyone in particular we should watch out for?” I continued.

“Well, besides the Galanodels, there’s Leofir.”

And with that, Tiago gave us a rundown of Moradian politics.

“Well, if we’re going shopping,” I said to lighten the mood, “We need a proper list.”

“First, we need a haberdashery to replace Loray’s hat,” Rylan declared.

“Then clothes and more appropriate armor for Fuego,” Thea added

“Clothes for all!” exclaimed Ruinfea.

“And what news of Little Grove?” Rylan asked Comforte.

“Little Grove is standing well. Little One is fat and round and isn’t likely to fly, if ever they could. She’s even learning to speak Common, thanks to Olivia.”

“Ah, good old Grandma!” we sighed with contentment.

“Tiago told me about Jii, too. He was good and will be missed.”

We spent a moment in silence for our fallen friend.

“Well, if the baths were that good,” Thea said, again trying to change the subject to something happier, “I can only imagine what the beds will be like. And speaking of beds and dreaming, Tiago, where’s Feno?”

“Yeah, Tiago, tell her,” Rylan said, laughing.

Tiago sighed. “She’s joined the shadow guild for arcane tricksters. An act for which I hold you accountable.”

“Hey now,” I objected, “you didn’t see her dreams. She was already leaning that way before we met her.”

“You can lay any rogue traits entirely on me, though. That’s fair enough,” Rylan admitted. “I would like to giver her a present, though.”

“Now, do any of you have any questions specifically for me?” Tiago wanted to know. “After all, Carrion has been my eager student for thirty-two days now.”

“Wait. What?”

“Well, none of you ever asked what exactly I specialized in, did you? I deal with space time; hence, I could open the portal for you.”

“And I’ve gotten so much better, too. I don’t even use the cape any more. I mean I still have it, if you want to see it.”

“But it’s invisible,” I pointed out.

“Not if its inside out!” Carrion countered with a grin. He certainly had grown since last we saw him.

Comforte sat to the side, actively relaxed.

“OK, now back to something more serious,” Rylan said. “Tiago, can we see a battle map?”

He summoned a physical copy.

“Here’s my theory,” Rylan said. “I’ve been thinking it over and I think I’m starting to put some pieces into place. First off, the Hollow Company isn’t acting like a large army. They’re a few people in scattered cities and no one really knows who forms the core group. Now, what does that sound like to you?” He paused.

“Adventurers? Like how people say they’re connected with us?” Thea ventured.

“Exactly. They behave like adventurers. And think, Tiago, when did you give up adventuring?”

“About thirty years ago. Adventuring wasn’t the best lifestyle to raise a family.”

“But didn’t you also say Lilith wanted to keep going and was often away on ‘government work’?”

“You’re saying she’s been out secretly adventuring?”

“I think she’s involved in one prong of this attack on the Empire.”

“That certainly would fit with Lyra’s work,” Tiago admitted.

No one thought to ask him what work that was.

“So, we’ve got an attempted coup in the underdark that would, if successful, spread into a war of conquest in Hilan,” Rylan summarized.

“But what are the motives of the Hollow Company, then?” I wondered. I still didn’t see how it all fit.

“They’re opportunists,” Rylan explained. “There’s likely a lengthy explanation that comes down to two things: power and greed.”

“They are great motivators,” Carrion agreed. “Those who have both seldom want to give it up.”

“And how stands the Emperor? How is his resolve?” Rylan asked.

“Well, not to put too fine a point on it,” Tiago answered, “He’s a pushover, often being swayed by the last person to speak with him.”

“Well, we don’t need him to do anything stupid,” Rylan pointed out. “But the more I think about this, the more I think I’m right. In fact, I think the whole thing in Little Grove was a failed attempted to get rid of me and somehow recruit Ruinfea. And Lilith failed miserably.”

“Yeah, their intelligence was way off if they thought they could recruit me,” Ruinfea offered.

“So what’s our next move?” Thea asked.

“Well to me it’s obvious: we marry the emperor off to someone who has his ear,” Tiago answered.

“Who might be suitable?” Rylan asked.

“Honestly, no one.”

“What about you?” Rylan asked.

“On no, no, no. The emperor tends to be quite talkative when in an amorous mood.”

“That’s what ball gags are for,” Rylan pointed out.

“Would the emperor even go for you?” Ruinfea asked. “I mean, I don’t want to assume or presume, but I don’t know anything about his . . . preferences.”

“His Royal Majesty is oft led by his fancies. As I said, he is open minded.”

“Has he slept with the Master of Whispers?”

“I’m fairly certain not.”

“Well then, who has he been with?”

“Oh, well, he doesn’t discriminate. There’ve been so many.”

“Just on the council, then.”

“Well, definitely not Eiloise . . .”

“So, it’s more of a rotating cast of characters. What about you, Loray?”

“Well, it seems to be either Tiago or me,” he said resignedly.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said about the war in the underdark,” Fuego said. “Now, I’m not up to date on the politics, but it seems to me that usurpers need the support of at least some of whatever council exists. I was just wondering if our status there gives us a seat on a council that we could led support to the Matron.”

“Fuego, you’re a genius,” Rylan exclaimed and proceeded to launch into a stream-of-consciousness speech on the ruling houses and their alliances. The long and short of it was, our standing did give us seats, and we could help preempt any attempt by the council to support a usurper.

“Back to the task at hand,” Tiago said when Rylan had finished, “If you want me to do this, just ask. I could be wed in a short period of time.”

“But is it what you want?” Thea asked.

“It is not what I would have chosen, but it may be where I am needed. If you ask after my happiness, I can find many ways to be happy outside a partner. And now, I suggest we get to our respective tasks.”

“Agreed. Carrion and Comforte, you’re getting new outfits too, just so you know.”

#### *Market*

With Tiago’s directions, we made our way to Morad’s shopping district. There were lots of people, but we weren’t claustrophobic. It was obvious that the merchants here made much of magic, as self-sweeping brooms kept the doorways clean and advertisements shone with aesthetic magic.

As promised, our first stop was in a haberdashery. The store drew in Ruinfea with its exterior signage – a bird (made of illusory magic) building a nest on a gentleman’s head. Entering, we were immediately met by the smell of quicksilver. The shop seemed empty of habitation, but was well stocked with hats and circlets and headgear of all varieties, ranging from the very simple to the incredibly complex.

Runfea picked out a black tricorn for herself, along with a circlet of sticks. She’d wanted some dandelions, but none was to be found. For myself, I picked out a crown of leaves. It seemed appropriate for my background and the theme of the coming ball.

The shopkeep emerged from the back. He was obviously lost in thought, as our presence startled him.

“You . .. you would buy from me?”

“Is there a reason not to?” I asked.

“Well, it’s just that I don’t usually see such fine folks here in the Mushy Duck . . .”

“The Mushy Duck?” asked Thea.

“Well, it goes back to my first attempt at a hat: a wonderful creation made of felt. But it happened to be raining that day and I neglected to cast a protection spell . . . and so it ended in mush. But it was glorious, if only for a brief moment in time.”

“Well, we are certainly more than happy to purchase some things from you,” Rylan told him. “And I can see you yourself are rather finely dressed. Where might one purchase outfits fit for a ball?”

“Well, you can’t do much better than the Silver Elixer. The owner is a fine weaver.”

“Also, my friend Ruinfea here was looking for something with dandelions . . .”

“Yes, but I didn’t see anything,” Ruinfea interjected. “But I rather like this circlet. I was planning to add to it myself, but perhaps you could make adjustments?”

“Adjustments? Ludicrous!”

Ruinfea’s face fell for a moment.

“A thing of such beauty will have to be made new!” The man took his hands and moved them about Ruinfea’s head, apparently taking measurements. “Can I have your address? It will be sent this very day.”

“We are guests of Tiago, whose apartments are in the Wizard’s Tower,” Rylan explained.

“Ah. I myself have never made for royalty, but it does my heart good knowing my creations will be under their gaze.”

At these words, Rylan withdrew a dusty box and handed it to the man. “Well then, friend. Perhaps you could take a look at this? Might your skill be up to repairing this for me by the ball tomorrow?”

The box was opened. Inside, on black velvet, lay a silver circlet. A very abused and broken circlet.

The man’s eyes widened as they looked back up to Rylan.

“Your Grace . . .” he began.

“No ‘grace’, just Rylan if you please.”

“I have never serviced a prince before . . .”

“No ‘prince’ either, just a paladin.”

The man’s face softened at Rylan’s words.

“Good sir, what is your name?” Thea and I asked almost simultaneously.

“Olo Tralen is my name, and I thank you for your generosity. But now my mind is awash in the work you’ve set me.”

“Then we will detain you no longer,” Fuego said, and we left Olo muttering to himself in happy busyness.

As we made out way to the Silver Elixer, someone bumped Ruinfea. She didn’t think anything of it, but Thea and Rylan had better eyes . . . and gut instincts. Certain Ruinfea had been pickpocketed, Rylan took off after the cloaked figure. Chasing them into an alleyway, Rylan lifted the miscreant up against the wall.

“You really shouldn’t steal,” he began.

“Oh come off it; it was just a test,” came Feno’s voice.

“I could have stabbed you!” Rylan exclaimed in shock and surprise.

“But, you didn’t.”

Rylan didn’t let Feno down, but rather carried her back to us to apologize.

“Rylan caught me,” she said with a shit-eating grin. “But I’m getting better!”

“I have no doubt you will one day be great,” Rylan agreed. “Now, give back what you stole and I’ll give you a present.”

“I’m intrigued. Go on . . .”

Feno tossed a small coin bag to Ruinfea.

“Here ya go. Now, you said something about a present?”

Carefully, Rylan pulled out two boxes.

“Open that one first.”

Inside was one of Jii’s daggers.

Feno looked at Rylan in recognition.

“Now the other,” he said.

In the second box was a set of thieves tools.

“Those are mine. They’re yours now. Use them well.”

“But . . . don’t you need these?”

“I have Jii’s.”

Together, we entered the Silver Elixir. We spent hours in there, trying on clothes of all cuts and colors. When Rylan informed the owner, one Tanelia Aríneshat, we would be paying cash in-store, they carefully checked the store and, when certain we were the only ones there, locked the door and put out a “Private Consultation” sign.

She brought us drinks and nibbles and helped us find the perfect outfits.

It was Thea who decided our outfits should fit a similar color scheme of dark blues and blacks highlighted with greens and silver. For myself, I chose a cream color dress with book spines around the bodice and tiny open books around the hem. I even found some dark green shoes with the same open book on the toes. Together with my leaf circlet, I felt beautiful for perhaps the first time in my life. I was worried that I didn’t match, but Thea assured me,

“We’re telling a story, Bryn, and I can think of no one better to be the binding.” My heart swelled.

#### *Dear Old Dragonborn*

The afternoon grew late as we made our way back to our rooms.

Suddenly, Fuego felt a hand wrap around his wrist. Fuego didn’t pull away, and the hand didn’t seem aggressive. He turned to look, and saw a short, delicate, elderly dragonborn woman. She cocked her head in curiosity. Her attire was well-worn and she leaned into her staff. It was obviously bearing weight and not just for show. She looked him over.

“I am so sorry; I thought you were someone else.” She turned to go.

“Hold on. Wait. Perhaps I can help!”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you or your friends. My mind wanders sometimes. There’s no way you can be the person I thought you were.”

“Well, who was that? Perhaps we can assist?”

“I’m afraid it’s embarrassing, but . . . I thought you were my husband? But he’s been passed for decades. And even if you were, well, . . . he’d be my age.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Let me walk you to your rooms.”

“But I don’t want to bother . . .”

“It’s no bother.”

“Well then, my inn is nearby.”

And that is how we came to escort an sweet dragonborn back to the Unicorn and Crown, a fine inn that seemed to specialize in long-term arrangements.

“What was your husband’s name, if I might ask?” I wondered.

“Barrin Aurish. He disappeared in the South trying to help with the curse on our people.”

“You have my sympathy,” Rylan told her.

Fuego patted her hand in comfort. They had a shared history with this. “That was indeed a noble cause.”

“Perhaps you’re related?”

“Oh no, I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she said sadly. “We never were able to produce a clutch, so any biological relation is not possible”

“And what is your name?” Ruinfea asked.

“Why, I am Memeril Orish. And might I ask who you are?”

When we told her, she exclaimed, “But I’ve heard of you – you’re famous as the Third Family!”

“We aren’t famous, just trying to help.”

“That’s the best kind. And if I’m not mistaken, dear, you’re a druid?”

“Why yes, I am,” Ruinfea acknowledged. They had a shared moment discussing their various circles; Mimirel was involved in the Circle of Life.

“And now I am old, making one last trip. Perhaps, if you find yourself in Ruinghast, you might look me up, if you are able.”

We agreed.

“Well, I can’t do much, but your kindness deserves some repayment.” Opening her mouth, she proceeded to bless us.

And with our hearts high, we returned to the High Tower of Magics.

#### *Autumnal Ball and Arrogant Bastards*

I must confess that the events of the day of the Autumnal Ball are somewhat scattered in my mind, at least the first half. Please forgive my faulty recollection.

We started the day back in the common area of the Tower of High Magic. Tiago came in, tired from his “work” in the service of the empire. Tired, but by no means grumpy.

Loray sat by Ruinfea, expressing gratitude for his hat.

“It’s stylish,” she told him.

“A little fancier than I’m used to, but I certainly like it.”

“It suits you.”

“Flatterer”

Comforte was the first to dig in to the breakfast laid out for us, piling on the meat and eggs and other proteins. I headed for the coffee.

“Are you ready for your greatest adventure yet?” Tiago asked us.

“What do you mean?” Rylan asked.

“Why, meeting the Small Council, of course! Are you prepared?”

“As best we can,” Thea and Fuego replied together.

“Any questions for me before we go?”

“How ought we address them?” I wanted to know. “I know you gave us a rundown of who held what spot, but if I need to speak I certainly don’t want to cause offense.”

“Well, you may call the emperor ‘Your Grace’ and “Lord, Lady, or Master is a good compromise on everyone else. At least, given your position, they won’t take umbrage to any of those.”

“Who will speak?” Ruinfea wondered aloud. “For my part, I vote Rylan.”

Rylan nodded in agreement. “I learned long ago how to flatter and bullshit my way through a court,” he reminded us.

“And I’ll be there for any on-the-spot backup or fact-checking,” I said, patting my knapsack.

“That’s good,” Tiago told us. “It will be good for all of you to take some part; you are a party of adventurers, after all. And if you aren’t speaking, pay attention. The smallest detail may be of utmost importance. This will be a battle of a different kind.”

“Is there anything you think we ought to know?” asked Rylan.

“Lyra handles most of the political matters; Belgalore is in charge of business and oversees the conflicts of a more . . . familial nature.”

And with that, we left for the palace, passing cherry trees held in perpetual bloom by some kind of nature magic. Their scent hung heavy, but not unpleasantly, in the air. The palace itself was fine elven-inspired dwarven craft and had stood for a thousand years or more. Most of the people here went about their business; this was a public building, after all. There was a kind of diversity here: a mixed population of elves and dwarves and humans making up about 80% of the people we saw; other races the other 20% - including a few Drow.

We entered the council ahead of some members and watched as they took their place. I saw Aedlin give Tiago a look and invite him to stay as well. The meeting was called to order and the minutes read, then the council began discussing the more explicitly urgent issues.

Eloise assured the rest of the Council that all the preparations for the ball were in place, and it would be the best ball in recent memory. Cragmaker growled about the expense, but Eloise countered that it would be good for the spirit and morale of those in attendance.

Belgalore questioned Shadris and Gildor about security. Shadris urged constant vigilance, and then Gildor gave a few updates about the guards who would be on duty.

Leofir and Silda would be in charge of security during the event itself.

After about forty-five minutes of minutiae, Tiago quietly prompted Lyra to introduce us. As she did so, Aedlin perked up.

“Ah yes, Lyra has told me of all you’ve done for the realm. I think an expression of gratitude is in order.”

Rylan inclined his head and smiled, and I recognized that look. This man was cute (to Rylan, at any rate), but dumb.

“Come closer,” Aedlin beckoned. “Come closer and be seated.”

Belgalore clenched his jaw. “My lord, there is decorum to be followed, rank and file to be observed.”

Lyra put a hand on Aedlin’s shoulder.

Rylan gave an appropriate bow. “You honor us too much, your grace. If you wish us to approach you majesty, we will, but if it will help ease the minds of this council, we will stand, if it please you.”

“Would that not be rude?” Aedlin countered. “I am the emperor, after all, and I have asked you to sit. There are plenty of seats at this table, and I feel that, in this place at least, we ought be treated as equals.”

“And yet if we sit, your grace, our feet will not be ready to defend the realm.”

Thea brought out her lyre, for what purpose I remain uncertain.

“And Thea,” Rylan continued, “will regale you with a story if you so ask, but she tells me she plays better if she stands.”

Aedlin’s face fell. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, and the Small Council eased visibly. “However, if any problems arise in our discussion which cannot be easily resolved, I will simply name you all members of my Small Council and bid you sit, again.”

The Small Council grew concerned again, but this seemed the best compromise we could bargain.

“You Grace, we are not here for praise,” Rylan reminded him tactfully. “We come to bring a report on our recent travels through Hilan.”

“Ah yes. I had heard of a group, the Hollow Company, I believe, that attacked Little Grove during its Great Festival to Eldath. And a certain of my military – may her name be forgotten – played a regrettable role in your . . . difficulties there.

I have heard as well how your company stopped a demon attack in Spriggan, whose religious community has not yet fully recovered and is now under complete jurisdiction of its king.

And after that you helped staunch a plague out east in Dewport.”

“We have simply been in the right place at the right time.”

“You chose to stay even when it looked bad.”

“To be fair,” I observed, “there’s a difference between knowing what’s right and doing what’s right.”

“I find it easy,” Aedlin replied. “You are heroes, and that’s what matters. Now, you have more news for me?”

“These are not isolated instances,” Rylan told him.

“Explain.”

And so Rylan did, explaining as best he could our theories about the Hollow Company and vague ideas about the larger consequences not just for Hilan but for all the planes of existence.

“And now, Your Majesty, we believe they plan an attack here, during the Autumnal Ball.”

“Here? In Morad? They will fail, of course.”

“Not a general attack on the people; on you, specifically.”

“There is nothing to worry about.”

Rylan looked to Shadris for aid.

“It is true that Morad is well defened,” Shadris assured him, “but no defense is perfect. There may be an imperfection we have not observed. That is why we continue to urge constant vigilance. Everything must be considered seriously.”

Aedlin leaned back.

“Serious? And the concern itself? The gala?”

“The . . . nameless woman . . . believes someone else should rule.”

“Who?”

“Ravelas Civar”

The name caught the attention of quite a few members of the Small Council. There were looks all around and towards Lyra in particular.

Rylan filled the uncomfortable silence that followed by filling in the Emperor and the Council on the Hollow Heart and our victory over the lord of deception in Lymdell.

Aedlin looked sad when we recounted the death of the dog, but only because he likes dogs.

There followed a discussion of our involvement in his security at the gala and how we would work together with the Small Council if need be.

Gildor wanted to know more about the attack in Little Grove, thinking it may have been a rehearsal for tonight.

“Well, the first thing I want to know about is the entertainment,” Thea told him.

“I checked the list; there is no mention of the Wandering Tongue.”

After Rylan and Fuego filled him in on the attack in Little Grove, Gildor looked concerned and thoughtful.

“Sound based attacks . . . they are ingenious and very difficult to guard against. I don’t like this one bit. But, Thea, I have some news you may find pleasant. The chief entertainers may be kin to you; they are listed as Trafir and Nere Chandler, and they came very highly recommended.”

“My parents will be here?!” Thea shouted excitedly.

“And don’t forget Biscuits and Gravy; it’ll be a reunion of sorts,” Rylan pointed out.

“When can we meet up with them?” Thea wanted to know.

“Can we trust them?” Gildor replied.

“They. Are. My. PARENTS”

Rylan came to the rescue. “He meant no disrespect, Thea. It’s his job to ask questions like that. But rather than distrust Thea’s parents, perhaps you should look to your own men – the ones who weren’t in Lymdell who may have certain attachments to the unnamed woman.”

This sparked a discussion between Rylan and Gildor about loyalty and trust and honor and how much the Master of Whispers herself could be trusted. I found it hard to follow.

“I’ve got bad vibes about all this,” Ruinfea remarked. Didn’t we all?

Speaking of the Master of Whispers, Shadris herself must have had itching ears, for suddenly she was right by Rylan, inclining her head and reaching out her arms. They grasped forearms.

“We should meet later,” he said.

“We should, indeed.”

They smiled at each other as an actor on the stage.

After she had gone, Gildor turned to Ruinfea. “Just want to remind you that the family estate is open to you here, should you need anything.” The siblings hugged.

Back at the tower, we found the rest of our items had arrived.

“The haberdasher himself delivered your box,” Carrion told Rylan. “He seemed quite insistent you know that.”

“A good man,” Fuego observed.

We dressed and prepared to go to the ball. I was loath to give up my weapons, but Rylan and Ruinfea showed Thea and me how to hide daggers on ourselves without them being obvious.

Rylan showed off his own unique weapon: a piece of paper that could transform into a sharp dagger. Talk about a paper cut . . .

Seeing Rylan’s paper, I also secured my scroll from Lymdell on myself as well. It blending in with my gown as it was.

The sun had gone down by the time we left the tower, and the streets were now lit by lantern light. People approach the palace in droves; it was a storybook feel what with all the costumes and all. But we were not here to play games, we were here to work, and so we followed the high members of the court into the Autumnal Ball.

One person in particular caught our eye upon entering: Mimi, resting her hand on the shoulder of a Halfling dressed in rather monkish robes. As we approached her, he watched us apprehensively.

“It’s so good to see you again, Mimi,” Rylan gushed. “Can we get you a drink or a snack?”

“No, I’m all set on that account. But be sure to save time for dancing!”

“Oh, are these the people you met earlier?” The Halfling asked.

“Yes, Fennic, they are.” And so we were introduced to Mimi’s companion, Fennic Eversharp.

“I am so glad you could brighten each other’s days.”

“I’m always grateful to see another Dragonborn,” Fuego assured him.

Ruinfea looked sad at this, and Rylan offered her his arm for a moment.

Fuego rubbed his scales nervously before speaking again.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Why, I haven’t danced in ages, and now I have two partners!” Mimi chortled pleasantly.

Thea though, was soon distracted by the music. She recognized the tune, and wandered off in search of the players. And then through the crowd she saw them: a human woman with honey-blonde (yet silvering) hair whose few wrinkles were obviously caused from too much smiling passed glances with bright shining eyes toward a nearby half elf. He had deep green eyes. They were clearly playing for each other first and foremost and the attendees of the ball were privileged to listen in.

Thea pulled out her lyre and began plucking her way into the song. Hearing the addition, the players looked around. If they were happy before, they were now positively exuberant as they laid eyes on her. The woman kicked a guard to allow Thea closer. The song ended and they embraced.

“Why Thea, why didn’t you tell us you would be here? You’d have had to drive right by us, you could have stopped in!” Nere kindly chided her daughter.

“We didn’t drive,” Thea said vaguely

“And what of the caravan?” Trafir asked.

“In the stables, brought by a friend. Biscuits and Gravy are now favorites of the Court!”

“And these are . . .?”

“These are my friends!”

Thea and her parents came over happily.

“Now, Thea’s told us so much about you,” Nere said. “Let me guess your names.”

She guessed our names absolutely correctly, and then proceeded to give us all individual hugs.

“Now I see where Thea gets it from,” I told her.

“Gets what? The smothering?”

“The unconditional kindness.”

“And what have you told your friends to call us?”

Thea didn’t answer immediately. “That never really came up . . .”

“Well then, ‘Mom and Dad’ will have to do,” Nere declared.

“If you’re comfortable with that, of course,” Trafir clarified.

“I’ve never had a dad before,” Rylan said softly.

Trafir embraced him in a hug as great as Rylan ever gave one of us.

They wanted to stay and chat and catch up, but they were on the job.

We entered the posh inner ball, passing through more advanced levels of security, none of which caught our weapons. This was cause for concern.

On a dais, Aedlin sat enthroned ,. . . and bored, flanked by Lyra and Tiago. The small council was here, but there was a distinct lack of dwarves in attendance.

“Will you dance?” Rylan asked me.

“If it were anyone else but you . . .”

“Let’s show these ladies the dress they could’ve had,” Rylan said with glee.

And so we danced, the Drow and the Gnome. I am told we earned looks of both interest and admiration.

“Every girl deserves to dance with a prince at a ball,” Rylan told me softly.

And as we spun around the room I realized something: Rylan was so very good at making me feel things I had not felt before. He made me feel welcome in Little Grove, valued in Spriggan, wanted in Dewport, loved in Lymdell, and now . . . now I felt beautiful for the first time I can remember.

I realized something else as well: I love Rylan Lovelock. Not a love like the crush I’d had on Hetzel. But the kind of love that wants the best for a person. The kind of love that will pull the heavens down in their defense and raise the hells in vengeance for wrongs done them. The kind of love that, above all else, desires someone else’s happiness. The love that changes a person for having known another.

I’d seen Rylan’s abilities. If this was even a fragment of what he’d felt with Jii, how did he not tear the world apart in righteous fury at the loss of his friend, his comrade-in-arms, his . . . soulmate? (I will never ask him this explicitly). Perhaps it was because he could do it that he didn’t . . .

Loray and Ruinfea danced as well, to everyone’s admiration but absolutely no one’s surprise.

The music winding to a stop before the next song began, Rylan became entranced by . . . something. Keeping hold of my hand, he peeled back a curtain and exposed an new ball with entirely new sounds and lights and music, seemingly unaffected by anything on this side of the curtain.

He conversed with Thea using message and, deciding there was no harm in exploring, pulled me further up and further in; we were quickly followed by Ruinfea and Loray, while Thea and Feugo stayed outside.

“Where are we?” Ruinfea asked.

Loray grinned. “We’re at Titania’s ball, if I’m not mistaken.”

One of the Fae Folk flitted over to Rylan and Loray.

“Your grace . . . pardon me . . . your graces, I bid you welcome.”

“I didn’t know you were a grace,” Ruinfea chided Loray.

He chuckled.

We were introduced to many knights of the Summer Court who declared us cousins, among them:

Olloth - Older Troll

Mapledrift & Dewdancer -  androgynous twins

Alder - Dryad female

Fisirna - Spring Eladrin

Cydwace - male Sidhe ginger

Lolenne - pixie warrior

One of them pried me away from Rylan and lifted me up and set me on a stool and began a conversation of wisdom and knowledge. They seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, and I’m ashamed I can’t remember a word of it. But such a thing is common after visiting the Fae, I am told.

As Rylan discussed the Faemorian problem with Mapledrift &  Dewdancer, he felt himself pickpocketed. Looking down, he spotted a baby gold dragon.

“It seems Titania has seen fit to gift you with a charge to return to its own kind,” Mapledrift declared.

Though it seemed we’d already spent all evening with the Fae, no time at all had passed when we once again crossed the curtain.

And then trouble came. Doors were literally blown open and a two half-elves barged in, panicking the guests.

We saw Mimi and Fennic approach them as if they knew what was going on. My heart sank.

“I am Ravelas Civar,” one of the half-elves declared, “and I will not be kept any more away from you,” he shouted, gesturing toward Aedlin. He glowed with energy and bore slightly bleeding wounds. It reminded me of when Rylan tried to use his bloodhunter magics.

The guards, meanwhile were trying to help the wounded, and Gildor was cut off from us.

Lyra tried to leave with Aedlin.

“I would not suggest you leave,” Civar said coolly. “I am here to take what is mine by right; I demand trial by contest. Who will take my challenge?”

“What contest?” Aedlin asked mildly.

Rylan glared at Tiago for not getting him out sooner.

“What does a great king have to fear?” Civar mocked.

Rylan stepped forward, drew his sword, and raised his aura.

The other half-elf rushed forward, but Civar stopped him.

“Step back, Glynn.”

Mimi looked confused.

“What is going on?” I couldn’t tell if she was asking us or Civiar.

Civar lowered his sword. “I repeat my statement once more: I was left no opportunity or choice in this matter. Now, who must I fight for my crown? Will it be you, champions of the empire?”

Lines had formed. Fennic guarded Mimi, who still look confused by how things had fallen out and kept glancing between us and Civar. A rather large human had, by this point, joined Civar’s side, and Glynn was a spitfire ready to attack – held back only because Civar explicitly told him to.

“Let the innocent leave,” Rylan tried reasoning.

“There are no innocent. I told them what would happen if they did not move, and they did not move.”

“Your lack of manners is not befitting a would-be royal.”

“Manners? You speak to me of manners when someone is living in my home?”

“Civility is the bare necessity.”

“Stand aside and this will be over shortly.”

“By what right do you lay your claim?” I asked, trying a different approach.

“By blood and by divinity.”

“Ah, so you are a legitimized heir, then,” Rylan sought clarification, though I heard an edge in his voice.

Civar’s jaw flexed. “I was denied that right by the circumstances of my birth and explicitly by that man right there,” He once again jabbed in the direction of Aedlin.

“I never heard any such thing,” he countered.

“Explain why my right is denied!”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“You’re not off to a good start,” Rylan said condescendingly.

“Give in or face the consequences.”

“We are listening to you,” Rylan said with more patience than deserved. “You’re the one who keeps jumping to violence.”

Mimi spoke to Civar. “Explain it to them like you explained it to me . . .” But Civar cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“I’m not sure people who are part of the propaganda machine should be the ones we talk to,” he said scornfully.

“Wait. Propaganda?” I cried incredulously.

“Yes, propaganda. Spreading malicious lies more venomous than a snake’s throughout the kingdom.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” I told him.

He looked at me as if I were a child.

“Sometimes, snakes walk upright,” Fuego threw back pointedly.

We saw Civar’s wrist flick out and Feugo’s head jerk back slightly as if he’d been punched in the teeth.

Fuego countered with a hellish rebuke.

So much for diplomacy.

Rylan shot Civar with his crossbow and hacked at him with the longsword. He started bleeding more freely as Brioche let out a stream of fire breath and then the two of them disappeared from my sight.

The large man – I think he might’ve been part giant – honed in on Fuego and, pulling out two large handaxes, came at him, swinging the axes in a cross-downward action. Both blows struck mightily, though Thea minimized some of the damage by throwing the brute off at the last moment with a well-timed but unremembered insult.

Fuego’s hellish rebuke lit him on fire, but this seemed to only enrage him more, and he struck Fuego again.

Our friend had to be hurting.

Thea cast fear on our adversaries, but what form it took I know not – it was behind us. Glynn and Fennic and the Brute started to flee.

I cast Toll the Dead on Civar, but as it failed I turned and cast healing on Fuego.

Ruinfea motioned her hands toward a few of the torches on the wall and, drawing their fire into her palms, conjured a fire elemental. Placing it on the ground, it proceeded to wrap its arms around Glynn, scorching his legs.

Fuego, meanwhile, dug into one of his tattered pockets and withdrew some of Rylan’s treats. As he popped them in his mouth he cast fireball toward Glynn, but he must have seen it coming because he dodged. Thankfully it fizzled without hurting anyone beyond.

Glynn turned back towards us and smiled an evil, condescending smile as he prepared another spell. He formed two knives of ice and, pushing his palms outward, sent them flying into Fuego’s shoulders. Seeing Fuego’s pain, he chuckled evilly. The man appeared to love inflicting pain.

Loray charged him with his scimitars. The first swung wide but the second hit true, nearly severing Glynn’s casting hand, stopped only by the bone – and even then only just.

Glynn’s look told us he took this as a personal affront.

Civar now closed his eyes and a ring on his hand flashed. His eyes softened and then focused sharply.

“Too bad you’re aura’s good,” he mocked Rylan as he fired his own crossbow and swung his own sword at Rylan, his attempt to hide broken. The bolt grazed Rylan and the first swing of the longsword missed completely, but it did catch him on the backhand.

Mimi looked at Feugo urgently, and I saw her cast a healing spell in his direction while calling out for Fennic.

The guards were still attempting to move people out of the way.

Rylan moved back slightly and gave Thea, Fuego, and me a blessing, fortifying our attacks and defenses.

Thea also cast a healing spell on Feugo.

I attempted to banish Glynn, but it barely touched him. He noticed it and now looked at the rest of us.

“You’re picking on me now, aren’t you?”

In response I summoned a spiritual weapon in the shape of Aeldin’s crown.

Brioche hopped from Rylan to Feugo, carrying him a healing macaron, placing it neatly in Fuego’s open mouth.

Ruinfea unleashed a flurry of blows on Glynn, but only one connected. Even the fire elemental failed to do more damage, and it looked somewhat sad.

Fuego now sent a fireball toward Civar, and this one struck true, knocking him backwards and onto the ground. “A blunt sword is the weapon of a fool,” Feugo spat.

Glynn, seeing Civar in such a state, grew furious. He levitated about three inches off the ground, though I’m not sure he realized it, and glared down at us with eyes glowing molten red. The ground started shaking and the floor started breaking. Rocks, conjured from somewhere, hit me and Thea, stunning us.

“Will you hurt him?” Mimi called in our direction, motioning at the motionless Civar.

“By my clan and my honor, I will not,” Fuego called.

I saw her revivify Civar.

Rylan shot Glynn with his crossbow, bringing him back down to earth and laying him low.

“And fucking stay there,” he spat. Then he looked at us, questioningly. I understood him to be asking if anyone would save him. Having seen the cruelty in his eyes, I didn’t move. But Rylan is better than I, and he kept him alive.

Glynn looked up and raised his hands as if to attack, but sensing the severity of his own situation, dropped them. As he did so, the shaking stopped and I regained control of my senses.

Thea dropped her fear spell.

Mimi looked around as the guards now circled in, but Rylan and Fuego warned them off, stating that while she may have entered with Civar and his gang, she did not act with them and actively aided our efforts to stop them.

They looked to Aeldin. He had been injured as well, but his eyes were unclouded.

“Bring her in for questioning, but treat her with respect. She is most certainly not our prisoner.”

“I didn’t know,” she cry-whispered as the guards led her out. “Find me after?”

Civar and Glynn, though, were clapped in irons. As the guards led them past us, I realized that my dress had done its job protecting me – to its own detriment. Minutes ago I had felt beautiful and he took that away from me.

“This dress was new, you bastard,” I spat at him. He probably mistakes me for a vain person. Oh well.

Rylan had words for Civar.

“Your claim is forfeit.”

“This isn’t over. You haven’t seen the last of the hollow company!”

“You named us champions. You lost. Any steps beyond this and you are nothing more than a terrorist. Do you understand?”

Civar glared toward Aeldin. “You have chosen war and conquest, brother!”

“I’m done with your nonsense,” Fuego said, stepping into Civar’s line of sight.

Lyra now spoke.

“Third Family, I feel moved to thank you. If possible, might I invite you for a private audience with the emperor?”

Thea, concerned for her parents, had been scanning the room. When she saw them exchanging thanks with Carrion, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Sorcerers and Wizards and Clerics entered the room and set to work healing people and mending things.

Shadris joined us, but Tiago was asked to stay outside.

“I’ll be waiting,” he assured us.

Shadris performed a quick security scan and then cast what appeared to be a silence spell around us.

Thea offered to heal Aeldin, but he refused.

“We need to check on the emperor,” Lyra said.

Wait. What?!

“I apologize for the deception, but we will need to check on the emperor. The man you know is a decoy; but after what you did he insisted I tell you.”

“The emperor or the decoy?” Ruinfea asked for clarification.

“The decoy, whose name is Lucias. The real emperor does not know I have revealed the secret. It may be he will be upset, but I don’t think so, given the circumstances.”

“Oh, Tiago . . .” Rylan sighed.

“Lucias here is a half-brother, much like Civas claimed to be,” Lyra continued. “But his parentage is more certain.”

“My dear boy,” Rylan said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but thank Titania you are sweet and dumb and not in charge.”

“To be perfectly honest, the dumb is mostly an act,” Lucias told her. “But don’t get me wrong, either. I am most certainly not good for this job.”

Seeing several of us still needed healing, including Aeldin/Lucias, I coordinated with Thea. I cast Beacon of Hope, and then between the two of us we were able to heal everyone up.

“You must apologize to Tiago for me,” Lucias finally told Rylan.

Rylan hugged him. “Tell him yourself,” he said good-naturedly.

And then it was time to see the emperor – the real emperor. Lyra led us to a tall tower – the tallest in Morad, perhaps the tallest in all Hilan. It may have towered over small mountains. We passed through various wards until entering a simply furnished room with a lot of books scattered about. I know organized chaos when I see it in a library, and this was the room of a bibliophile. Whoever was reading things used them and loved them.

Lyra shut the door and Shadris stayed on guard outside.

The Real Aeldin looked at us, carefully reading us and gaging us before bowing and inclining his head.

“I must thank you for what you have done for me and my people. Have your needs been meet?”

We looked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I can sense that you’ve had healing, but . . . oh my, your clothes! Such wondrous garments must hold special value to you. Lyra, might we have their clothes mended with the proper ingredients?”

“Certainly, your majesty.”

I could have hugged him. I’m fairly certain I shed a tear or two.

“Would you like to sit? I’m certain you have questions.”

Lucias excused himself to eat, having missed the gala feast.

“Where shall I begin?”

“The beginning is always best,” I said, “but I’m not sure where that might be.”

“Well, it really started thirty-six years ago, but I can go back further if you wish.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a good history lesson skillfully told, but I can’t say the same for the rest.”

“Well. Thirty-six years ago, my brother went missing, and I do not think he is dead. But as it happens, when his hand returned to us, I had to learn quickly. In those early days, mistakes were made. My mother had too much power. The decoy was her idea. I have long been worried about Civar and the state of the empire, but I see know that what was taken for absence was in reality stony resolve.

Then there’s also the issue of the dragonborn. When Mother denied their request for an investigation into their curse, I believe they then cursed out bloodline. We have not been able to secure an heir . . .” his voice trailed off.

“Permission to speak freely?” Rylan asked.

Aeldin nodded.

“This wasn’t the dragonborn; it’s not what they do. From where I sit, you’re the emperor, and you can change your mind and be as fickle as you please. Right now you have two dragonborn who visibly aided in you defense against an attempted coup. For my part, I’ve been trying to help the dragonborn from the drow side of things, but you can change this right now. Once you don’t have people being wronged and give voice to the disenfranchised, you take away the motive many have for supporting an . . . alternate. Civar has lost any legitimate claim he may have had, and it’s all because he was careless in his wording: he lost to us after naming us your champions. And then the important part: back up your words with actions.”

Aeldin leaned back in thought.

“I like this idea. It will help my people, and may establish a firmer alliance with the dark elves. I would like to see the world changed; there is too much injustice in it.”

Rylan turned to look at Lyra. “The best way to do that might be what we discussed earlier.”

“Ah. You mean Tiago.”

“All I mean is you can capitalize on things.”

Lucais had leaned back into the room from Aeldin’s kitchen.

“I give you my blessing,” Aeldin told him, “to pursue Tiago in an act of courting. In this way we will be seen to forgive the bloodline and remove yet another motive for supporting her nefarious acts against us. You may also announce the crown’s support of investigating the Dragonborn’s curse. It is time you begin showing wisdom, which I know you have despite your appearance at court. Begin using phrases like ‘I shall have to consider this’ and ‘This is something to think on’ – no longer play the child.”

And then he turned to us. “There is another matter I would like looking into. It has come to my attention that there must be a reason people are losing power, such as in Spriggan, and religion supposedly failing. I asked Leofir to investigate, and what he told me has caused me great concern: Torm did not reply.”

“Interesting. Torm lied to me, claiming I was his paladin. Yet the power I wielded was corrupt and never quite worked the way it was supposed to. I didn’t even know it until Titania set things right.”

I looked at Rylan and caught his eye, darting my eyes between him and Aeldin. Rylan nodded at me.

“Torm isn’t the only one not answering.”

“Oh?”

And, with Rylan’s help, I explained Oghma’s silence and my efforts in Lymdell to find a way onto the Plane of Knowledge.

“We must also consider the lower planes as well,” he said when I’d finished.

“We cannot let the underdark fall or allow my mother to be futher misled,” Rylan agreed.

“Then, you are all charged with discovering why the gods have fallen silent. Are there any other gods who have acted . . . strangely?”

When Thea recounted Tearsson’s story, Lyra spoke up.

“That’s not like Ilmater at all!”

“I think he may be gathering his resources on other planes, expecting this one to fall,” Rylan opined. “And on our way, your grace, we will continue looking for your brother.”

He gave us words to say should we find him, made sure we had rings with which to access his rooms, and then asked

“If there is anone who you think needs protection, tell me. I will make accommodations for them here.”

It was decided to send Carrion with Biscuits and Gravy for Bella and Carrion in Dewport.

After Fuego again begged mercy for Mimi, Aeldin offered us permanent rooms in the capitol, then dismissed us, and we headed back to the tower to discuss our imminent trip.

#### *Aside*

I know this happened but don’t know where to put it. I’m

After the party makes their way back to the tower, Bryn spends some time in the bath recovering from the evening’s events.

She carefully hangs her damaged dress for the menders to repair, running her fingers over the book-spine bodice and grateful for His Majesty’s offer of repair. Thanks to Rylan (and Thea and Ruinfea), she’d felt genuinely beautiful for perhaps the first time in her life. She knows it is just clothing, but still . . . She is now dressed in a new everyday outfit she’d picked out earlier that afternoon (see journal).

Bryn sits at a table with her parchment and ink, as well as the scroll obtained in Lymdell.

Opening the packet, she reads the outermost page, frowns and pauses before adding some lines, and then begins the task of adding to the overall document.

Once the party returns to the tower, Thea took the longest, hottest bath she could. What started as a fine ball had quickly dissolved into chaos thanks to the Hollow Company's arrival. She wanted to loose her thoughts in bubbles and hot water. When she emerged, pink and soft from the suds, she put on her most comfortable clothes and sat down with her sheet music and her lute.

After everyone returned to the tower, Rylan had mentioned wanting to speak with Arun now that he had been trying to make amends. It was hours later that he finally walked back into the tower proper; not even bothering to toe off his boots before sinking into a couch and crushing the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. Visibly exhausted in a way that he hadn’t let himself become in a long time and wearing it openly without attempting to mask over it. A few minutes of rubbing at his eyes later, Rylan dragged himself off to a bath muttering about falling asleep in the bubbles and ‘letting the water just take him at this point.

Bryn looked up from her writing, concerned.

“Well, if you’re that bad off, maybe you shouldn’t be alone in the bath,” she called after him.

She paused and her ears turned red as she realized what she’d said and how it could be taken.

“What I mean is, please don’t think that way. Of course, I realize now you could just be exaggerating for effect and . . .” Her voice trailed off as she realized the hole she was digging herself only grew larger the more she spoke.

Ruinfea was sitting cross legged on the floor. She was fiddling with a glass jar filled with dandelion seeds with pappus (the wonderful poofs you wish on). She was thinking of all that had transpired at the autumnal festival and how Loray had danced with her. Her face begins to sadden as she thinks maybe this is a mistake.   Should she even think about this or just take it as a one time thing. Maybe if she could talk to Rylan about this it would help, but he has so many things on his mind. This is just a trivial thing. It can wait. Rylan is going into the other room anyway. As she’s thinking, she hears Bryn’s comment to Rylan and it gives her a chuckle. She goes back to staring at the dandelion jar and holds tight to the leather bag around her neck. She never knew her life would turn this way, but she’s glad that she has the Third Family.

He was about halfway across the room when Bryn spoke and Rylan nodded a few times in consideration before sighing. “Gods forbid I deny the Universe or our enemies the delight of my suffering and end.” It was playful in the self-deprecating way he favored, but he knew better than to argue at least for a bit.

With a change of direction, Rylan quickly snatched his bag off of its perch and fished out a glass & vial of oil, a wide toothed comb, and another flat and wide paddles brush. Finding a place on the ground, he made quick work of getting out of his armor and boots before slowly and painstakingly beginning the process of detangling his waist length hair. Tilting, twisting, and making faces all the while, “So what did I miss?”

Thea enters the common room, hair still damp from her shower. Her conversation with Fuego has left her contemplative. He shared much of his known past, and she is still trying to reconcile the Dragonborn she knows from what he might have been. She's worried about him.

She sees Bryn, Ruinfea and Rylan gathered together. Rylan attempting to de-tangle his hair. The battle at the ball didn't do him any favors in keeping it from twisting together. "Need help with that?"

“Rylan, I have some fun curly hair potion if you want to use it. I know how annoying long, curly hair can be in battle.”

There was exactly six people Rylan let touch his hair since... unpleasant memories; four of them currently in residence as members of the party. He wasn’t sure he could explain to them why yet, and the reminder burned at the back of his throat and eyes. Regardless of the unspoken; out from the snarled and tangled mess he nodded. Happily handing over what the Lovelockes gave him to fix it over to Thea & Ruinfea. “...please? Just... warn me before you pull...” his voice and body language closed off and barely above a whisper. A few minutes went by before he gestured to the door anxiously, his right hand quickly returning to press against the left side of his neck and rubbing gently at the skin there where it met his shoulder.

“I just helped smuggle someone out of the city, anyone else up to their eyeballs in something criminal or are we all just trying to relax before the whole Planar Travel, thing?”

Bryn sets down her pen and looks concernedly at Rylan. In an even tone she says “You did what now, exactly?”

Ruinfea  pulls out her hair potion to help with Rylan’s hair. “This should help with the tangles. It may still hurt, but it should make it less painful!” After Rylan says something about smuggling someone out of the city, Ruinfea looks up confused. Had she missed something?

Thea began combing through the tangles at the ends of Rylan's hair. Ruinfea's potion did wonders, defining the curls and reducing frizz. "Um... What?"

Tiago comes into the room, his hair back in sets of braids that are meant to keep his own straight hair neat while he sleeps. Is is wearing clothes for his nightly meditations; a simple robe tied closed with a sash. He isn't wearing anything on his feet, not even the house slippers that he often wears. His hair is still wet from the quick washing he gave himself when he came home. It is probably the most dressed down most of the party has seen him.

When he sees the people who have gathered, he smiles a bit, especially soft at seeing people tending to Rylan's hair. He knows. He knows what the means to the dark elf prince. And, it means that much more to him. It is clear, though, that he heard the last parts of the conversation. His eyes go distant for a moment, a telltale sign that he was doing something magical; perhaps retesting his own privacy wards, since what he said next was delicate. Standing by the doorway, he answers the question. "Feno. Rylan just spent the better part of the evening smuggling my daughter to safety."

He crosses the room and folds himself into a pillowed chair. Again, it is the most informal most of the group had seen him. For a moment, he looks his age, some two and a half centuries or so, before he composes himself again. "Rylan has more details, but Feno's life was potentially in tremendous danger if she stayed in the city. So, she needed to be brought somewhere safe. Somewhere... away." A pause. "And secret." It was clear from the way that he said it just how secret it was. It was information that even he did not have.

Bryn nods in understanding. This piece of information will not be recorded in her notes.

“Tiago,” she says, “I have a question about our upcoming journey to the plane of knowledge - wait. Do you know of our intentions?” She can’t remember exactly who knows what at this point.

“Anyway, I was told in Lymdell that traveling to the other planes  is tricky when it comes to time. We might be gone a few minutes by our reckoning, but be gone decades out here. I was wondering if we might make use of your tower? You know, you said Carrion had been with you over a month when only a couple of days had passed otherwise. I’d hate to go missing and have people think we’d abandoned them, becoming scorned legends . . . or worse.”

Tiago balks a bit at the sudden change in topic. He turns his attention back towards Bryn, though he still has a lingering sadness and worry at the edge of his features. What little relaxation he had allowed to travel into his posture melts away as he shifts in his seat. "Yes... I know your intentions?" The slight question mark at the end indicating that he didn't know where the conversation was going. He sighs deeply, more from sheer exhaustion than anything else and listens to Bryn. "It is not my tower that has sway over time. More that my particular area of study deals in time and space. Carrion traveled with me to a pocket dimension of compressed time of my own construction. There, time moves differently, but in a way that I could, in some limited way, control."

“Ah, I think I understand.” Bryn sits for a moment in thought, consider both what Tiago had said and how he said it. Perhaps it had been out of line to speak in such a way.

\*She knows Tiago has given so much; she will not raise the issue further\*

Rylan continued to self-soothe, rubbing at his neck before he felt like he could really piece the words together. “Remember after Arun switched their bodies we ended up in Feno’s mind? With the cache? It got me thinking but I couldn’t parse out why exactly anyone would risk doing that with some random kiddo. It was a pebble in my shoe so to speak for a bit until today when I went to go speak with Arun.”

His posture switched as he got more distracted by his words, from self-soothing to working out the knot always present in his right wrist from his crossbow. This part would be delicate but more because of the way his friend was betrayed. “Arun confessed that Civar had been coming to his home for a long time before he joined the Company. He’d come by whenever Tiago was away back when he was a child. An \*only\* child.” Rylan let the weight of the word and the implication hang before continuing on.

“If Civar thinks he’s her father or not, she’s in grave danger. And she \*is\* Tiago’s daughter, I won’t hear anything to the contrary. But basically it means she needs to be somewhere Civar can never find. She’s safe. Safer than I think any of us will be for awhile. But yeah... smuggling young ladies out of a kingdom for once.”

He hoped that the reason for Tiago’s tension was concern for his daughter but Rylan couldn’t be entirely sure.

Ruinfea just sits there in shock. “Rylan I am so glad you were able to get her out. And you are right. Tiago is her father no matter what.”

Ruinfea realized that choosing not to bring up other things to Rylan right now was the correct choice. Getting her brother at least to some point of rest was now her goal.

“I know things are rough right now, Rylan, but you definitely did what was best for Feni and Tiago. No one can say you are not a true friend!”

“Ruinfea is exactly right. Is there anything we can do for you - either of you?” Bryn asked Rylan and Tiago.

Thea listened intently while working braids into Rylan's hair. Nothing fancy, a simple plait leaving enough room at the nape of his neck for a certainly golden dragon to have a comfortable spot. "I agree with you all. This was definitely the right move."

As Rylan regales the events of the evening, Tiago readjusts his body. His own hands moved together, his thumb massaging his palms. \*"And she is Tiago's daughter."\* Those words clearly rang true with him, even now as memories of bright moments of raising her filled his with just a touch of sadness. He would always be her father. As for anything he wanted, he couldn't ask it. This group of people were already doing so much. The things he wanted most were their safety and happiness, and he knew all too well that for adventures, those could be in short supply. It was one of the reasons he had retired...

"Smuggling Feno out of the city is probably going to be one of the highlights of her life that she tells for years to come." His smile was honest. "What we need to focus on now is making sure you are all outfitted for your travels. It is true, there is some risk of time being out of sorts for you. The planes all move differently in a way that others have tried to trace for millennia. But the gods move in mysterious ways. I may have a way to help with that, but will need the night to research and prepare. The question I have is this: What can I do for you while you are away? What can I have ready for when you return?"

Thea takes a moment from braiding Rylan's hair. She turns full to Tiago. I hate to ask this, you've already done so much for us. We have a small friend that is quite a conundrum. Our family member, Jii, bonded with an abyssal worm. And I sort inherited it." She takes a deep breathe and tries to relax. "Anyway, I've been feeding it bits of meats and things, but it's getting bigger and I think it's going to need more that what I can give it, and I think it might be on the other side of good. I don't want that to be the case, but it's a real possibility." She stops herself from getting carried away. "Is this something you might be able to help with?"

#### *Afternoon Actions*

We spent the afternoon shopping; everyone bought “everyday” circlets as opposed to the ones we’d worn at the ball. Thea bought studded armor; Rylan bought some mithril armor, a new Quiver of Alona, a bag of pet holding for Brioche, and a masquerade tattoo; Ruinfea got a haircut (cutting it short), a backpack of druid shape, and a fancy staff that she’d won (or lost, as the case might be) in a game of chance involving her cards; Fuego purchased a cloak and whip and armor; I bought a Drought of Neverending Water and some spell supplies.  We held a fashion show, to which Tiago awarded us all 10/10. But he always paused, so we felt like we’d earned it.

“Oh, and I found out something about Chewie, too,” Ruinfea said. “Turns out he’s a beholder eye, and they have magic powers. I can use him in battle and he’ll circle my head and shoot magic of some kind.”

“So does that mean he can actually see?” Thea asked.

“Yes”

“But I changed in front of him!”

“I’ve also done some research,” Carrion said, “and beholders can regenerate. Have you communicated with Chewie at all?”

“I just talked to him out loud like he was a cat. He can’t really respond but he does squish about in his water.”

“Well, people have kept worse as pets . . .”

Thea looked at her hands.

“For example, I once kept and fed a baby bugbear because I thought it was a raccoon.”

“Hey, I bought a bag to hold a baby dragon,” Rylan pointed out. “No judgment from me.”

Brioche hopped from wherever she’d been hiding and scratched at Chewie’s jar while chirping at Ruinfea.

Thea handed over our worm to Tiago, asking him to take care of him.

“Is he aggressive?”

“More like . . . insistent.”

“Has he ever attacked you?”

“Technically, yes – but that was before we adopted him.”

“What’s his name?”

Thea made a noise.

“You named him worm in abyssal?”

“Jii did.”

“Ah; I understand.”

“I always thought he’d grow up to go to law school and support me in my old age, doing us all proud.”

“Given the nature of ilithids, that might not be far off.”

“His enrichment, though, is not conducive to our wandering lifestyle,” Rylan pointed out.

“I will do what is necessary.”

“Spare me the details,” Thea asked.

“Well, my paternal instincts are on overdrive right now . . .”

“No snuggling!”

“Well, I won’t be keeping him in the tower at any rate. And it wouldn’t be good for him to escape into a plane of knowledge.”

Tiago left to take care of Chewy, and we went out to do some last-minute shopping.

#### *Kam*

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to us, someone else had entered the city the morning after the ball. They stayed mostly to concealed alleyways, listening for the masses to talk about scuffles, cordons, and relatively interesting people. The talk centered around us.

Did you hear what happened last night?

I head the Third Family stopped an assassination attempt!

If I were a gambler, I’d bet Ramelas Civar was already free of the dungeons.

My cousin said a Drow and a Dragonborn stood against him! If folks like that can defend the emperor, that Civar fellow must be one bad dude.

Someone told me the Drow called himself Rylan Baenrae . . .

They listened to the conversations, moving unseen or unnoticed through the city, narrowing his search to the wizard’s tower, where he stood in the shadows watching the main entrance.

We were returning to the tower when Thea, Rylan, and myself noticed him. He stuck out only if we actually thought about how he looked: six-foot four with scarred ears and skin were covered by piercings – well, what skin showed through, which wasn’t much. He was covered mainly in dark bluish-red armor streaked with silver. But he also had red eyes, and he didn’t look like one of the races to have red eyes – to me at least. He seemed to be watching us.

Rylan stopped dead in his tracks, and we stumbled into him.

Thea glanced at me nonchalantly with a “you see this too, right?” look. I nodded.

“What are we doing?” Ruinfea asked loudly.

“Avoiding that man in the shadows,” I whispered back.

But Rylan strode forward with purpose, followed quickly by Fuego, Loray, and Ruinfea.

“Oh gods why?” I asked Thea.

“Every. Single. Time.” she replied.

“Kam, is that you?” I heard him ask as we came closer.

“I hope so,” the man replied. “I heard people say a certain Rylan Baenrae made quite a stir last night . . . but also that he’s a paladin?”

“Yeah, that was a mistake that turned out not to be a mistake. What are you doing topside?”

“Your topside too”

“Fair. Everyone, this is Kam, probably the first friend I ever made. Kam, this is the party I am . . . leader of, for lack of a better term.”

Kam scoffed.

“Let’s get out of the sun,” Rylan suggested. “Tiago has his rooms if we want to talk.”

There was an awkward silence of two very separate friend groups meeting for the first time.

Loray and Thea looked Kam up and down; I could only look him up.

We made our way back into the tower with no problem and made our way to Tiago’s sitting room. Rylan and Kam stayed side-by-side. The room was filled with a twilight glow instead of the usual sunlight; Rylan was able to take off his sunglasses.

“I . . .” he began. “Hell. Words are . . .”

“Hard?” Kam finished.

“You need time alone? Catch up on your history?” Carrion asked.

“I’ve known Kam since the academy. Last I saw of you was that thing in Rapture, but that’s neither here nor there. What are you doing in Morad?”

“Trying to find those stopping whatever’s going on with the abyss.”

“Funny story, that . . .”

“That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah . . . um, Bryn, how many gods have we killed in the last few weeks?”

“With certainty? Three. Four if you count that thing in Dewport.”

“What we’re doing is trying to stop the Hollow Company, but I have the feeling Civar is already gone.”

“That’s what the rumors say, too.”

“So it was a mistake not to kill him?” I asked.

“Not necessarily,” Carrion replied.

“What about you?” Rylan asked Kam. “Why aren’t you fighting . . . oh, yeah. I forgot.”

“Yeah, that. And I won’t be going anywhere soon,” he said as he flipped a cracked obsidian stone in Rylan’s direction.

“This looks bad.”

“It’s dead.”

It was a black stone used by the Shadow Fey to move between the material plane and the place of Shadowfell. This stone wouldn’t be moving anyone or anything.

“Shit. This is broken.”

“Then I’m stuck here . . . unless you want me to go on . . .?”

“No, that is . . . . so much to fill in. Long story short, I made a deal with my mother . . .”

“And now you’re procrastinating?”

“That’s the plan. Trying hard not to get married.” Rylan looked at us awkwardly.

“Clearly Rylan knows you and stuff and I’m going to follow whatever he thinks about this,” Ruinfea said.

“True. Kam knows everything there is to know about me.”

“Even more reason to trust him, then.”

“There has to be some level of trust,” Fuego said. “Why are you here again?”

“I’m trying to figure out why the Abyss is interested in the material plane.”

“So you’re like a detective?”  I asked.

“Yes”

“I too trust Rylan,” Fuego continued. “And I trust those that he trusts. If you are here to help, I see no issue.”

“Assuming you don’t mind where we’re going,” Loray clarified.

Rylan had been scanning some documents sent to the tower for him.

“I have news regarding the Abyss – Bryn, you were right. It was Civar all along. Nobody knows why, but multiple sources have now confirmed that Civar is behind all the catastrophe and confusion we’ve been fighting.

I allowed myself a smug look.

“You’ve earned that one,” Rylan said, “but I don’t like how little sense this makes.”

“The Abyss is more politically violent than you might think,” Kam stated. “Nobody can play all sides and win. Some of the gods are bound in chaos. Other lesser lords have bound themselves to one of the primal lords.”

“Well, I don’t even have a guess. That means I’m gonna be punching Civar the next time I see him.”

Thea had wandered off during our conversation and now returned with teas and coffees, bringing an extra of each for Kam.

“He only gets mercy one time,” Fuego agreed.

“So he only wants chaos?” Thea asked.

“That’s what I think. If he can’t have it, nobody can.”

“But the Abyss just doesn’t work together,” Loray countered. “Work with one and everyone else gets pissed.”

“Yea, that’s pretty much how it is,” Kam agreed.

“So he’s willing to just let it all burn,” Thea mused.

“He’s thinking he’s in charge of the chaos,” I said.

“And that’s why we need answers. That’s why we’re making this trip.” Rylan reminded us. “The answer to this, and other questions.”

“And where are you going?”

“Well, you said you were a detective, let’s see if you can guess,” I proffered. “What do you look for when you seek answers?”

Kam took a long sip of coffee before answering. “Knowledge.” He finally replied.

I smiled broadly. “You passed!”

Rylan scratched his scar; Kam reached up and pulled his hand back down.

“Yeah,” Rylan said. “We’re going to the plane of knowledge – if you’re good with that.”

“Let me be straightforward. I may not be welcome on the plane of knowledge.”

“I’ll punch anyone who says otherwise,” Rylan promised.

“I mean, after all, I tried to shatter Orcus’ chest,” Fuego pointed out.

“Look,” Kam interrupted. “Before you put all your eggs in one basket, you ought to now. I am not among the living.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” Rylan explained as we looked at Kam somewhat askance.

“What do you mean?” several of us asked at once.

Fuego shifted in his seat.

“Saying you’re ‘not among the living’ is kind of vague,” Thea pointed out.

“I am . . . intelligent undead.”

“Just don’t try to heal him; leave that to me,” Rylan informed us.

“I still say if Rylan trust you, then so do I,” Loray offered.

“And I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Rylan said angrily. “I’m going to punch Corellion.”

“In fairness, one of the reasons we’re going is to see if there are any gods left to punch,” I pointed out.

“Will we need rations?” The asked.

“Um . . . yes? And I’ve got that covered.” Rylan answered.

“and I’ve got the water covered, too,” I said.

“And I’ve my tent as well,” Loray pointed out.

“What about Tiago?” Thea asked.

“He’s tending to Wormy,”

Rylan whistled for Brioche.

While we waited, Fuego shared what had transpired between him and Thea:

#### *Fuego & Thea Heart-to-Heart*

Once the party returns to the tower, Thea took the longest, hottest bath she could. What started as a fine ball had quickly dissolved into chaos thanks to the Hollow Company's arrival. She wanted to loose her thoughts in bubbles and hot water. When she emerged, pink and soft from the suds, she put on her most comfortable clothes and sat down with her sheet music and her lute.

Fuego stood silent for a moment contemplating, then gently knocked on the door to where Thea was. “Thea, are you free? I enjoyed our conversation before things escalated at the ball and was wondering if we may continue it.”

Thea was quietly strumming her lute, working out a new bridge for a song she had been trying to finish when she heard a knock on her door. "Thea, are you free ..." She put her lute to the side and opened the door. "of course Fuego, come on in."

“Thank you, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” Fuego said as he entered. He somewhat paced for a moment holding something tight in his hand to his chin.

Thea clears away her sheet music, making space on the other chair for Fuego to sit. "Sorry about the mess... when the musical juices start flowing sometimes things get scattered." She looked up to see Fuego, standing with his hand to his chin. "Everything alright?"

Fuego made a kind of noise that could be considered a little laugh mixed with a slight exhale. “As best as they can be I suppose.”  He paced a step or two more before realizing Thea had cleared a seat. “Thank you.”

With his other hand he gently picked up a sheet of Thea’s music. “ Have you ever had a melody that has been stuck in your head but you don’t recall where it’s from or anything about it.?”

"yes... often." Thea took a seat across from him. "It's why I have so many half melodies written down. Sometimes seeing the notes in ink helps me remember."

"Music can be a powerful trigger for memory, the same way scent can be." She pauses, running her fingers over the notes on a page beside her. "Are you beginning to remember something from your past? Those memories may not be gone, just forgotten."

“I don’t have that for anything beyond three years ago from this past midsomar.” Fuego closed his eyes trying to recall, “My earliest memory was ... is of me standing in a candle lite room with the faint hint of sulfur and smoke in front of an old man that appeared to have had quite a frightened look on his face.” Fuego smiled for a moment.

“After he regained his composure, the elder man introduced himself as Donald Herbert. He was a wizard and apparently he had been trying to cast a summoning spell to research the infernal plane.” Fuego opened his eyes and realized he was still holding the sheet of music, before softly placing it back down.

Thea sat quietly, taking in the memory Fuego was sharing. "So this wizard, Donald Herbert, was summoning something from the infernal plan for research, and he got you?" She paused, taking a breath, "That must have been a shock. Would that mean you had been on the infernal plane?"

"I must admit my knowledge of the planes is lacking."

Fuego listened to Thea’s questions, “About that ... I don’t know if it was Devine Intervention or the Hubris of the man I had found myself I front of, but yes I was on the infernal plane.” Fuego exhaled like he had been holding his breath for an eternity relaxing his shoulders.

“I know I was there because,” Fuego paused a moment holding back tears, “I was dead, caged and tortured for ... gods I have know idea how long.”

Thea sits forward in her chair, eyes intent on Fuegos. "You... were... caged and tortured." She stops herself, knowing the saying she was sorry just wasn't enough of a word. It wasn't sorrow she felt for him, or pity, but empathy. Her friend who felt bad about sometimes lighting their party on fire, who she hadn't seen hurt a soul other than their enemies had been subjected to horrors she couldn't fathom. She swallows, "Do you know who your captors were?"

“When we were in Spriggan and the stature became that god. I had gotten hit with a .. mental attack that hit me with a memory of being tortured by demons. I was in hel.” Fuego looked at his closed hand.

“My friend Donald, who I Affectionately called Mr. wizard, realized I was a warlock he helped me as best as he could, but the two schools of magic have differences that made it a challenge. Made only harder by my amnesia.”

Thea pulls two clean squares of clothe from her pack and hands one to Fuego. The other she swipes at her eyes. "Is that when you had the vision of.. forgive me I don't have a better name for her 'fire tits'?"

"I had no idea you had been living with... this...."

“I had the vision of her that night after the battle. She wanted me to essentially turn on all of you.” Fuego took the offered cloth. “Thank you, I naturally told her to get lost since I had no clue who she was. But there have been moments since where I feel as if she is ... in my head tempting me.” He said making a gesture with his hand wiggling his fingers next to his head. “Like in Lymdell when those armor’s where being hateful, she was there saying it would be so easy to destroy them. And I will be honest part of me really wanted too just show them a fury like they had never seen, but then that would have been proving their them right.” Fuego said as his eyes lifted towards Thea’s.

“Even here in Morad, this morning she whispered in my ear to take that rod that we found and gave to Tiago. She claimed it was mine and I should take it. I fought it, which left me unimaginably exhausted all day.”

"that's very concerning. She's like a backwards conscience. The devil on your shoulder if you will." Thea leans back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee. "Have you told the others of this?"

She pauses for a beat, "I understand if you haven't and would never betray your confidence but I think Bryn or Rylan might have a better well of knowledge when it comes to this sort of thing."

“No I haven’t, we’ve already got half the worlds problems on our shoulders. I don’t want to add to it.” He answered looking down. “If only I could remember who I was before I had died and ended up in that infernal place. I could understand who and why ‘Fire Tits’ is so determined to turn me into a monster.”

"I understand completely but I don't think we can put this off forever. Who knows, it might be something Oghma can help shed light on. If he's in one piece when we see him on the Plane of Knowledge.?

"I'm not sure what we will find when we get there but I think finding out who 'fire tits' is can help us put together the pieces of your past and get you some answers."

“Perhaps, I mean what better place to find answers then the Plane of knowledge.” Fuego looked at his closed fist as if through it for answers. “The other day just before we went off on our shopping trip I asked Tiago for help a spell, a potion, hells anything to help recover lost memories.” He got a little sad smile on his face, “and then by chance we bumped into Memeril Orish, Meme. I couldn’t fathom living with that heart ache not knowing what happened to a beloved one for, I believe she said sixty years? But I know I need answers.”

Fuego opened his fist to reveal a potion bottle filled with sparkly blueish black liquid that looked like it could be the night sky in a painting. “Tiago gave this to me shortly before I knocked on your door.” He regarded the bottle examining the swirls of black and blues with in it. “He warned me that it wouldn’t be as instantaneous as opening a door, but more like a gentle rain slowly building on itself. That my memories will slowly be triggered by places, sights, sounds.”

Thea looks at the tiny bottle in Fuego's hand. "Memes situation is heartbreaking. She is another one I wish we could get answers for." She shifts in her seat. "But you are who I am most concerned about. This potion. Did Tiago say there would be side effects? Is it something you'll need more than one dose of??"

“No he hadn’t mentioned anything about side effects, just that the memories would  ‘Most likely in your dreams, or moments that would trigger them while you are awake. Familiar places, people, things. All the nouns, really.’ He seemed certain this in time would help.”

He set the bottle down looking at it. “I trust Tiago because Rylan does. Plus I’m pretty sure he’d fillet Tiago alive if this would cause harm.”

“Meme deserves answers as to where her husband is, or at the very least what happened to him. If I can help with that maybe I can make amends for whatever it was that landed me in league with that flame wrapped temptress.”

"I agree with you. Rylan would probably skin Tiago alive. I think the first step to helping Meme then is for you to get some answers for yourself. And I am happy to help you with that in any way that I can."

Fuego looked at Thea and got a soft smile on his, well as soft as one can get on a Dragonborn’s face. “Thank you Thea,” looking to potion with concern. “What if I find out I was the very monster that vile temptress is trying to make me?”

"Then you know that you can be more than that. You can't be defined by your past. Besides, I don't think you were."

“Even if I was, it’s not who I am now.” He lifted the potion regarding it. “Guess there’s only one way to find out for sure.” And with that he flicked the potions top off and downed the liquid.

((It tastes like blueberry))

((Thanks))

Fuego looked at the now empty bottle. “Not how I expected that to taste.” He said kinda smacking his lips, “tastes like, blueberries.”

"Delicious... So now we wait for your memories to start trickling in I guess?"

Fuego let out a laugh, “Nothing yet, but at least I know I’ll get them ... eventually. I should let you get back to your music. Thank you for sharing your time with me. Oh tomorrow before we head off I’m gonna make a quick shopping trip.”

"I could actually use a few things. If you don't mind me joining you."

“I’d like that.” And with that Fuego stood up gently placed a hand on Thea’s shoulder, “Thank you Thea.” And left.

#### *Back to Action*

“So,” Rylan said when they’d finished, “Fire Tits goes on the list.”

“Should I actually be keeping a list,?” I asked, half-joking and half-seriously.

“Might as well. Stormosin, too. This time, I’m going to beat her.”

“I have news about Stormosin,” Kam said. “At least, assuming we’re talking about one Lilith Stormosin, she’s been chosen by the Queen of the Succubi. And in a spirit of ‘cooperation’, she was recently brought into the service of Malcanthet.”

Rylan barely held in his rage.

“I know bits and pieces of what happened to here in Hilan, but haven’t exactly placed it all together.”

Rylan tried to fill him in, but his anger kept derailing his train of thought. Eventually he managed to tell how Stormosin had whipped him in Little Grove.

“When we see her again, we could offer her a drink,” Fuego pointed out.

“The way you say that indicated there’s an interesting story behind that remark.”

“Side-splittingly good” Fuego agreed.

“Bryn here created food and water in her gut.” Rylan explained. “She had a very bad day.” He whistled again for Brioche.

We heard a scratching, and realized she’d been inadvertently locked in the room where Tiago was working. Opening the door, Rylan smothered her with pats and pets.

Tiago was using a self-writing pen to dictate his notes. Counting our heads, he came up with one more than before.

“Just getting things . . . oh, hello!”

Kam bowed slightly; Tiago looked like he didn’t know what to do.

“You remember my Kam stories?” Rylan asked.

“On occasion . . .”

“Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things I am sure of it,” Kam said with a slight laugh.

“Well, this is Kam,” Rylan said by way of introduction.

Tiago looked at Kam. “Thank you for keeping him alive.”

To the rest of us, he said “So, Kam is going with all of you? Just as well, the alignment for traveling to the plane of knowledge is auspicious. The energies are high. It’s good you chose to do this right around the autumn equinox.”

Wormy was nearby, his jar covered with a black cloth similar to how one will cover a pet bird’s cage.

Tiago led us to the circular area we’d come through earlier.

“You might not need it, but this is where I can offer you the most protection.”

“Yeah, we don’t want to come back twenty years later!” Thea exclaimed.

“if you do, things have gone to shit.”

Everyone now turned to me. I explained how the scroll would work and asked if everyone was ready.

“Too bad it’s only one-way” Fuego murmured.

I took out the glue.

“Do we have to use that?” Thea asked. “Why not use the amulet I pulled from the Dreamscape treasure and get rid of it?”

“Can I see that amulet?” Kam asked, and Thea carefully handed it over in its wrappings while keeping a sharp eye on Kam. He took it without problem.

“It’s like I said before: the debt should be paid by the one who incurs it. This is my price to pay. Also, the glue isn’t necessarily consumed, it just changes form and enters the personal cache of the god involved; in this case Labelas Enoreth. Do we really want to give him an amulet of ultimate evil?”

“I have a counterpoint,” Kam spoke up. “You say the gods aren’t answering. What if this offering is going to someone other than the one you intend?”

“I just don’t want it pickpocketed from Thea,” Rylan said. “That would be very, very bad.”

“I can get this in the hands of somewhere safe, somewhere not on this plane,” Kam offered.

“I can keep it here,” Tiago offered.

“Alternatively, I don’t mind having it,” Kam pointed out.

Brioche had found a stash of pearls on Rylan and was happily munching away.

“Let’s get going,” he said, trying to contain the dragon.

“Well, we might not be in agreement, but have we come to a decision?” I asked.

We had. Tiago took the talisman, and I prepared myself.

I offered up thanks to Labelas Enoreth and opened the door to the plane of knowledge with gratitude. Reality pulled back in a wash of bright blue light. Vaguely, we saw on the other side a bright stone hallway stretching into the distance.

“No time like the present,” I said, and strode forward. The others followed. We were greeted by the sound of many ticking grandfather clocks. As I stepped over the sovereign glue and into the hallway, I saw it turn to gold dust and settle into a kind of trail leading forward. The doorway closed with a soft rustling; behind us a twilight blue curtain hung in front of a stone wall. The way back was shut.

### *On the Plane of Knowledge*

#### *Hallways*

These halls were the keeper of history in one shape or form. Dawnbreaking gold light filled the hallway, streaming in through windows looking out on a grassy, foggy countryside. Things moved in the mist.

The golden dust that was once the sovereign glue was now a ball of gold dust, pulsating almost as if it were breathing. It seemed waiting for us to follow.

I didn’t touch a thing.

Brioche was still.

We followed the ball of gold at a respectable place until it turned a corner and led us through another curtain and into a room similar to a philosopher’s library – a place for books and the theory of practical knowledge. There was a table, but no throne, and I got the sense this was like a library. There were people in the room, and the talked in hushed, yet excited, tones.

The ball went to one of them, an androgynous being with one eye and silver hair wearing blue-grey robes. A kind of mist surrounded him, and he didn’t seem to notice us until the orb reached him. Seeing it, he looked around and spotted us.

“If you’ll excuse me, please, gentlemen,” I heard him say. We got looks from the departing men, but they were looks of casual interest as they appeared engrossed in continuing their own observation.

“You don’t strike me as people who come here often,”

“We’ve never been here,” I said.

“Who are you?”

“I am Bryn, and collectively we’re known as the Third Family.”

“All of you?”

“There have been some recent additions . . .”

“And the name of your plane?”

“Hilan” Rylan said.

“Ah . . . so why are you here from the material plane? Wait. You are races from the material plane. Well, mostly. How did you get here?”

“We opened a door and followed the ball of golden dust,” I said.

“Yes, but how did you do that?”

“With a scroll I obtained in Lymdell.”

“But . . . that should not be possible. None of my relics survive on the material plane.”

“Well, there was at least one,” I pointed out. “Though I didn’t know it was a relic at the time.”

“Ah . . . the material plane. My followers haven’t been as faithful as they once were.”

Rylan tried explaining to him the silence of the gods and the strange passing of time.

“Oh, so it has been a bit longer than I had reckoned. I trust things are going well then, if no one has prayed to me?”

“No, they’re not,” Rylan said pointedly.

“They were praying in Lymdell,” I said. “They were praying with all their might.”

Rylan stepped in and began pushing more forcefully; Enoreth’s mind wandered.

Kam snapped his fingers, and he focused back on us.

“I haven’t been called on,” he continued to protest.

“But you have.” I insisted. “The gods aren’t answering.”

“And if they answer, they begin to lie,” Rylan said angrily. “And you lied to us, you just don’t think it’s a lie.”

“I haven’t lied,” he argued.

“You have. My symbol and my lady tell me so.”

“Rylan, do you have to be so harsh? Back off a bit,” I began to protest.

“I’ll give him respect when he starts telling the truth.”

Kam and Enoreth began talking about realms, and the dust ball settled into his palm. Enoreth patted it.

“Do you like it, then?” I aksed.

“There is nothing like it in my treasury. It pleases me.”

I smiled.

“Bryn, tell him more about Lymdell,” Rylan encouraged me.

“I’ve been trying to speak, but I’m better at answering direct questions rather than carrying the conversation,” I pointed out. “But I’ll do my best.”

And, with Rylan’s help, I explained Lymdell again.

Enoreth became concerned and looked at us as if seeing us for the first time.

“There’s a reason you have not heard from us and we are shut up in our plane. There is debate in the realms about what we should do about the Abyss.”

“You’re hiding,” Ruinfea accused him.

“There is discussion about how to protect the upper realms and whether to leave or abandon the lower. The pathways are closing. War is in the heavens. This is the closest any of the demon lords have come. What I see is that this is due to your efforts – you have prevented their success. As long as war in heaven wages we look elsewhere.

As for Corellion, we are not friends. Well, perhaps he’s my friend. He’s a brother.”

“He was friends with Avariel, too” Rylan pointed out.

Enoreth grabbed Rylan, and Rylan went still. This would not end well.

“Corellion’s children are failing him. What happened to them will happen to his own. Be careful, Dark Elf. Your mother and I were friends before the fall.”

Rylan was both angry and not angry. I had a hard time reading him.

Enoreth was certainly acting strangely. I could not sense any charm on him, but it seemed as if he was reacting to . . . something?

His mind began drifting again.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, forget you spoke to us.”

“I don’t think that’ll be too hard . . . Who are you  looking for?”

“The way out,” I said, forgetting about Oghma.

“I cannot do that from here”

“Oghma,” Rylan stated.

“Oghma is in the Hall of Paper,” he pointed.

I followed the direction of his finger.

“If you can find Oghma,” Rylan told me, “I think I know how to get out.”

Brioche snuggled into Rylan.

We left  Enoreth’s realm behind, passing many closed doors and drawn curtains. A few people wandered the halls with long ears and interesting skin colors; many were a soapy blue-onyx color.

Ruinfea goes up beside Rylan as they are walking. She doesn’t know what to do or say. She decides just walking beside him might help. She is still trying to wrap her head around everything and wants so much to make things better for him. She’s glad Kam is here because that seems to help him a bit. She pulls out a small smooth black tourmaline stone and hands it to Rylan. “Sometimes, when I need to put thoughts or memories out of my mind as best I can, I hold on tight to this stone and breath. It’s not perfection, but I want you to have it.”

Rylan Was. Not. Okay. There was a lot rattling around inside the mind of the Heir; snippets of memories that scarred his psyche flaring up and impossible to separate from the here and now. The only thing that kept him focused was the phantom touch at his wrist from when that cowardly elven god grabbed him; the source of his pounding headache and clenched jaw.

He was a little ashamed at how long it took him to realize Ruinfea was by his side, and while he couldn’t remember his name or how he \*should\* be right now a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. That kindness a crack in the panic and anger that he wore around him like armor. “...thank you. Truly. And you should know better than to lie to me or I’ll tattle to My Mistress.”  His voice was strained, soft and fragile but his hand wrapped around the smooth stone with reverence.

And while his words were an attempt at lightheartedness, he knew the title he used wasn’t \*right\*, wasn’t the one he wanted to, wasn’t even a title that his God claimed; it came out in habit. One that immediately caused his brows to knit together. Some ghosts, it seemed, haunted his footsteps even here in the Plane of Knowledge. Rylan cast a guilty look over at Kam, feeling terrible at the slip before looking back at his Druid friend. It was a soft way of grounding him, reminding him he wasn’t where his memories festered and her gift both words and stone were a balm. “You’re a fucking genius, Ruinfea... you really are.”

Kam can only theorize what's going on inside Rylan's mind.  What they endured, that parts he knew of while they were together in that particular place...  Oh how the slightests of unwanted touches still send him into a frenzy. Rylan, while being very much the same, was also different from the version he knew. While they had both grown, it would appear to be in vastly different directions. For the moment Kam doesn't feel inclined to leave His only true friends side. Even if he wishes to remain back and observe the new group dynamic. After all he is here to do just that for the time being, observe,  investigate.

Bryn marches onward, finding it slightly amusing that she’s at the head of the line. What they must look like to anyone (or anything) observing them.

So, she was right about the glue . . . and Civar. But that was her problem, wasn’t it? anything that sounded logical sounded good. She’d nearly allowed Labelas Enoreth to make her forget about looking for Oghma. It took Rylan to bring her back to reality.

Bryn also didn’t know what to think of Rylan’s friend . . . Kam, was it? The way they looked scared her, and being told not to send any healing spells in their direction . . . The one thing she could do somewhat well would hurt him. Wouldn’t it be best to just stay away? But then again they’d guessed her (admittedly) easy riddle in a dramatic fashion. And Rylan trusted them, so Bryn would as well.

Labelas Enoreth had seemed more . . . himself when he wasn’t being harangued. Maybe that was a mechanism put in place by whoever was coercing him? But Rylan has reasons for being brusque, she reminded herself, and look where her being slightly too trusting got them in Spriggan.

Bryn didn’t like this line of thinking. She was always too smart for her own good, she’d often been told, and seeing the wide world had had an effect on her psyche. In the last several weeks, feelings of confidence were followed by hurt and pain . . . or worse.

She heard the party talking in low voices behind her. She hoped she wasn’t leading them into mortal peril . . . but one never knew, did they? She turned her mind to considering what the god had said about pathways . . .

We turned a corner and abruptly found ourselves in a rustic tavern/pub filled with a rather significant number of people. A bard on stage sang a song that captivated the audience – a song of honor and protection and unification.

A lone lutist sat off to one side.

Thea was captivated by the performance; Fuego stood taking in the environment; Kam kept an eye on Rylan, looking to see how people reacted to him; Rylan still wasn’t whole from being touched by Enoreth, as the experience had left him in a state; Ruinfea tried to figure out what was going on; I listened to the song trying to identify the history it was taken from and sticking near Thea.

It was definitely a legend, and not a popular one at that. It was a tale of quiet heroism and not fucking people over.

The lutist noticed us; we weren’t exactly trying to join the crowd and looked as if we didn’t belong. He came over looking concerned.

“Why are you here? Who are you? How did you get here?”

“I am Bryn and we are the Family. We were pointed in this direction by Labelas Enoreth. But before I reveal more, might I asked the pleasure of your name?”

“Oh, Brynwick. You know me better than that.”

I hung my head in shame. “My lord.”

“If it pleases you; yes. Now, tell me everything.”

And so I told him. He was not pleased.

“Oh, Brynwick. You should have pushed Labelas Enoreth more. What you learned from him is barely anything at all.”

“When we pressed him, he became incoherent.”

“Did he now? Interesting. Did you press him though? I believe the word you used was ‘harrangue’ was it not?”

I could barely look him in the eye.

“Yes.”

Rylan spoke. “My good sir, (he said turning to Oghma), you need not speak to my friend so harshly.”

“Oh, but Brynwick and I must have words together,” he said, his features growing stern and serious. He turned to me. “Would you prefer we talk in private, or in front of your . . . friends.”

“What you have to say to me I will tell them anyway.”

“As you wish, then. Brynwick, it pains me, but you have grown further and further from me these past several weeks. I heard your name called out in Spriggan, where a voice that was not yours named you my Voice. I must admit I did not like to hear my name listed with several of the others in that sentence, but it gave me hope that I had one true believer left on the material plane. But I looked and saw you filled with hubris and blinded with pride. You would not take up the title. You were proud to suffer a brokenness of your own making. You found a way to me, and took pride. You were proud you were right about Ramelas Civar and in offering your sovereign glue to Labelas Enoreth. But what good is knowing unless you use that knowledge. Knowledge needs to go further, and you never pushed your knowledge to see what lay behind it.

Civar wants to crack the planes; his goal as Faerun. And that is what your pride has blinded you to. Instead of seeking truth, you sought me. What did you think I meant when I told you to fill the scroll? It’s never about the knowledge, Brynwick. It’s about the story.”

I wished I could sink into the floor, but I refused to make myself small. I hung my head, but I stood up straight.

“It is as you say,” was all I could say. What use was there to argue? He was a god of knowledge, after all, even if I thought he could have worded things a little differently.

“I know it is because I know your heart, and your heart has strayed from me. Look around you. How many people do you see tucked away in closed rooms with dusty books? That is not to say there is not a time for that, but it’s not the way to live. You have lost your way, and I will help you find it again.

I will send you on a pilgrimage. It will be difficult and you will struggle. But it is for the best.

I want you to reform the Namers, so that knowledge will never again be used as it was in Spriggan. And to keep you on your path, I will join you as a presence, a ghost if you will, in the back of your head.”

He paused, but only for a moment, before speaking to the group.

“And now, since I have taken up your time, I will send you on your way with a gift.

“I have a question,” Rylan said. “If it would not detract from your gift.”

“Yes?”

“Did Civar live a life outside Hilan?”

“Oh yes. Civar is not of Hilan. In fact, he is not even of the material plane.”

Rylan’s face seemed to click with this knowledge, and Oghma put a finger to his lips.

“Do not speak it here,” he warned Rylan. “People may be listening.”

Rylan nodded.

Fuego bit his lip and then asked “Will I find answers?”

“Now you’re getting ahead of yourself. But I speak to you all as members of this Third Family. I am a god of knowledge and story and I will gift you a true answer for a true question.”

He paused again; we said nothing.

“What, no takers?”

“Where is my father?” asked Rylan, hesitantly.

“Beyond the wall. The mists of Faerun have him; perhaps this is why he has long been gone.”

Rylan shifted uncomfortably.

“I know who I am and in time will discover who I was,” Fuego spoke up, “but who is the one chasing me?”

“You would have a name?”

“Yes”

“The name you seek is Sarchae, a demon and a succubus.”

“Thank you, Lord Oghma.”

“Is our worm evil?” Thea asked next.

“Its nature is born evil, but it wouldn’t be the first time that nurture has won over nature. What he is now is not what he was then. If he’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”

“My one question is . . .” Ruinfea began.

“Yes?”

“Where is my other brother?”

“He resides near Gael Aethal.”

Rylan’s color drained; Kam was now visibly supporting him.

Gael Aethal was an aboveground Drow stronghold and knowledge center, which no longer exists. It was destroyed by a volcano in the war between Loth and Illastre.

“Where should I begin my search?” I asked.

“I cannot tell you, for that is your future.”

I should have pushed back because I’m certain he knew what I mean and intended, but my mind was faltering with the events of the last few minutes.

“Oh,” was all I could manage.

“Is my mother alive?” Kam asked last.

“Very much so, and doing great things.

And now it is time for you to go. You must travel through the ether. Some of you have never been there; some of you have been there recently, if only briefly.” He looked at Ruinfea and Loray. “Now, you will be there longer. There may be people that try to stop you. You will need help. When you step outside, light the lantern and wait for someone to come. Give them my name.

And now, don’t be strangers, but stay the hell away as long as you can.”

And with those words he pushed us out into the hall and shut the door. For a moment it looked like he might say something, but instead he smiled and shut the door without another word.

#### *Into the Ether*

We turned around to find ourselves not in the hallway as we had before, but now outside in a spooky forest. An ornate oil lamp stood nearby with benches places around it.

Fuego lit it with magic. The flame burned orange and red and then flamed into many different colors, some of which may not even have names.

There were thirty minutes of quiet before I sensed something coming. Fog rolled in, along with a feeling of trepidation. I got a lump in my chest. Loray must have felt it too; I saw him squeeze Ruinfea’s hand as out of the fog stepped a figure, large and dark and winged.

“You called for transport.”

“Oghma sent us.” Fuego replied.

“Plane?”

“Not a plane,” Rylan began.

“A person?”

“Illustrae.”

“Follow me, then.”

He walked into the woods, a halo pushing back the shadows. His pace showed the confidence of one who knows nothing would dare hurt him.

He eyed Kam.

“Do you always keep such company?”

“Watch your tongue,” Rylan warned.

“The thing cannot speak for itself?”

“I have not spoken because you are beneath me.”

It turned around. “That’s rich coming from something so far beneath the center of the earth that . . .”

Rylan cut him off with his holy aura. “I will cleave you from that which you hold dear,” he began.

It was then we began to sense people in the woods around us.

“Let him run his mouth,” Kam replied. “They always run their mouths.”

An ice orb struck the thing in the chest, knocking him backwards and forming frost on his armor. As he fell, I caught sight of something beneath his armor: a head on a string. A freshly-severed head with golden hair and silver blood. A celestial head.

In response, the thing drew out a long black a gold swords that didn’t seem to fit with the rest of his armor.

A blast of radiant energy caused his wings to buckle.

A feminine figure appeared before us. Looking back, I saw a masculine form step into the path.

“I assume it was actually you who summoned Azathael?”

“Who is this?” asked Ruinfea

“He comes from Corellian.”

Rylan immediately tried to compel the dark beast to a duel, while Kam squared up.

The beings before us were Deva.

Rylan tried to assassinate the creature before it could attack, and though he dealt a massive amount of damage to the thing with his crossbow and longsword, it still stood its ground.

Kam manifested an echo and struck with his longsword. A spray of blood later, and Kam was licking it off his blade.

The dark Deva glared at Kam but turned back to Rylan, slashing out with his sword swung with both hands. Rylan dodged the blow and blew the thing a sarcastic kiss.

“Sword ain’t so great now, is it?” Ruinfea mocked him, as the thing swung back and barely clipped Rylan.

“Darling, do keep up,” he mocked.

Thea cast confusion, which seemed to have no effect, and tried to inspire Rylan.

The male Deva behind us seemed to fly through the air before dropping on the dark Deva and pinned him.

Fuego, adding insult to injury, did a small amount of fire damage.

The woman held a dagger to its neck. “Yield”

No answer.

Ruinfea cast wind wall, and a circle of sticks and leaves and dirt and forest debris rose around us.

“I’d yield if I were you,” she said.

I tried to command him to yield, but again the spell had no effect.

Rylan could see the look in its eyes: it would throw himself on the dagger before surrendering to us.

He raised vines to hold the thing in place; the woman kept her dagger up.

“He wants to die; he’s hiding something!” Rylan called out.

Kam knelt down and pushed back is hood, just watching.

The other Deva also threw back their hoods.

“He may have brought an army,” the woman said. She exuded confidence as she claimed the head, but her expression was one of anger mixed with sadness.

Rylan walked over and cast a gentle repose. Now why didn’t I think of that?”

They looked at him with shock and sincere appreciation.

“Thank you” she said.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

“No, though he certainly did try,” Rylan replied, rubbing his neck.

“He was going to take you to Corellion. This was not well-intended.”

“Well, it didn’t go well for him.”

“For certain.”

Rylan spoke to me directly. “Bryn, the reason I was hard on that god was because he enables Corellion. He failed my people and perpetrated genocide and eradication and extinction on six races under Drow protection. The only reason he was good was because I needed to be forceful.”

“What god?” the woman asked.

“A one-eyed god of knowledge.”

“He may have already told Corellion.”

“He’s not in his right frame of mind,” Fuego pointed out.

“I am sorry, but even if he were, he may not be your ally. Thank you for what you did for Zed. We were camping when we received your signal. He was always the fastest; this thing must have been waiting for him.” The woman replied.

Allow us to introduce ourselves,” she continued. “I am Ophiel, and this this my brother, Aniel.”

“Today, we spare him,” Rylan said. “No more lackeys today.”

“We could string him from a tree,” Aniel said.

“Rylan is good at knots,” Fuego agreed.

“Well, I for one don’t want those wings to go to waste,” Ruinfea declared.

The siblings looked at each other, shrugged, and turned their backs.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you,” Rylan glowered.

“What kind of man would you be?”

“My lady would think differently.”

“You have already made up your mind, Dark Elf.”

“If a man won’t do it, a woman will,” Ruinfea threatened.

Rylan dislocated his wings, eliciting a scream of pain immediately silences by Aniel.

Ruinfea walked over, reached down, and pulled out a fistful of feathers.

“Tell your god his sins are coming home to roost,” Rylan said, kicking him.

He glared at all of us with ire and hatred.

“You picked the wrong side” Aniel told him.

“We’ll be going now,” Ophiel said, lighting the lantern brighter than before.

She led and Aniel brought up the rear. I had thought the dark Deva was confident, but it was obvious that, compared to Ophiel, he was taking his sweet time.  She walked at a significant clip, leading us to a pleasantly-lit valley.

“I’ll get them inside,” said Aniel.

“And I will see to Zed,” replied Ophiel. “Can we pay you for your help?”

“You got us here intact,” Kam replied. “That’s payment enough.”

“Agreed,” said Fuego

“And where, exactly, can I bring you?” asked Aniel.

#### *Eilistraee*

“Eilistraee,” replied Rylan.

“I will take you; may I also join you?”

“I don’t see why not,” Thea replied.

“As long as you don’t speak of what you see,” Rylan clarified.

And thus we entered Aborea and saw the great tree of Eilistraee. Nearby, a stature on a Drow woman bathed in light holding a sword. Dancers swirled about.

A Drow woman approached.

“Welcome to the tree of light. What can I do for you?”

“Might we speak to The Dancer?” Rylan asked courteously.

“Of course. Right this way.” She led us to the front of a large fire.

The Dancer withdrew and put a finger to her lips.

“Follow me.”

We followed, leaving behind the dancers and entering a separate, more private area – a crystalline floor lit by moonlight.

“Aniel,” she asked, “what have you found?”

“In truth they found me . . . us. Corellion’s man led them astray, but they handled themselves just fine.”

He did not mention his fallen brother.

Illustrae looked into Rylan’s eyes.

“Oh, you all made it safely!”

“More or less.”

“Can I get you anything? Is there anything you need?”

“May we speak safely?”

“Of course”

“We need a ride back to Hilan” then, turning to me, Rylan continued, “Bryn, do you remember the talk we had on the wall?”

I nodded. Indeed I did. I had speculated I’d been the one that broke the connection with Oghma. Turned out I’d been right about that too.

Rylan continued. “We talked all about Civar and his motives and all that. Well, I think I know who Civar is. Remember what we just found out from Enoreth and Oghma? Well, I think Civar is the Nameless Cirac.”

Illustrae’s face showed a mix of awe, clarity, and trepidation.

“He wasn’t killed in Faerun,” she said. “He was bound to Hilan with the other kingdoms.”

“He wants to be a god again,” Rylan finished.

“You’re telling me I spared a god?” Fuego said in wonder.

“A god in mortal form,” Rylan said and then, almost to himself. “A woman is his greatest ally . . . Kam’s dad . . . it all makes sense.”

“Civar wants to die,” he said louder. “It’s his way back to Faerun; his way back to his deity.”

“So we need to keep him alive on Hilan,” Thea stated.

“He will keep on scheming,” Illustrae pointed out.

“Then we bind him,” said Ruinfea.

“Indeed, there are ways . . .” mused Kam. “But we need someone who can take his place.”

From a pocket he withdrew a black triangle emblazoned with a white shell.

“Someone who was there before. Mercal.”

“But Mercal is an evil god,” protested Illustrae.

“So is Cirac,” Rylan pointed out.

“And he’s more neutral leaning that genuine evil,” Kam argued.

“True,” Rylan agreed. “Mercal doesn’t take joy in doing evil.”

“We must temper reality with free will . . .” mused Illustrae.

“Along those lines . . .” Rylan began. “I want to return Loth to Arushnae.”

“How?”

“By doing the same thing the gods did to Cirac, but in reverse.”

“Like a hard reset,” clarified Thea.

“It might mean the werespider that is hassling you will be cured of his lycanthropy,” Rylan said. I did not know what he meant.

The sounds of a scuffle entered the chamber.

“You let him live.”

“Yes,” Rylan said, somewhat ashamed.

“Corellion sent people here to stop you.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Aniel rejoined.

I suggest we beat a tactical retreat,” Rylan suggested.

“I want to go with them,” Aniel said to Illustrae.

“If we’re not here they can’t accuse you of harboring anyone,” Rylan pointed out.

“Corellion wants war. You will need divine intervention. I can open a way, but you will not return where you left. But, you will be safe. But I need something from you.”

“What is it,” I asked, wary of any god right now.

“You must never speak of where I send you.”

We looked at each other, then agreed.

“I will let my clerics know,” and she parted the gossamer veil between the planes and the light of Illustrae spilled through.

“Do what you must and do what is right,” she said to Aniel.

“We should skedaddle,” said Rylan.

The portal now opened fully, and we tore through it, emerging in a land . . . filled with large, strange-looking mushrooms.

A dark elf approached us. “You have had a long journey. I will take you to safety.”

The mushrooms grew taller, and we began to see people, mainly dark elves, but quite a few other races as well.

“I am sorry. My name is Sinanna Eilsani. Let me welcome you to Gael Aethal.”

“Wait just a moment,” Rylan asked. “When are we?”

“Well, we are a little out of time from the material plane, but I believe the common reckoning puts us around the autumn equinox in the year 7998.”

As we entered our rooms we looked at each other in confusion.

“Ruinfea, your brother is supposed to be here,” Rylan said as we began to settle in.

### **Gael Aethal**

#### *Rylan and Kam*

Today had been... too much wasn’t quite the right word; there had been plenty of days in the past century or so that had claim to that title. Perhaps he was becoming too weary, too worn down by it all? While he couldn’t find the word, the weight of the last hours hung heavy on Rylan’s shoulders as he  made his way into the room Sinanna had given him and Kam.

The one thing the last day had given him other than confusion was returning his friend to him. It had been a little over thirty years since they were last together and Rylan felt guilty over how much he wasn’t the same person anymore. And while they had fallen into the same old habits of mirroring each other both in and out of combat, there was so much unspoken that would need to be breached.

He let his mind twist over everything that he could or should say as he shrugged off his pack and began the process of getting out of his gear. First folding his cloak and his circlet and placing them onto a trunk, before turning towards his old partner in crime. “...Hey...” \*Eloquent as always, Rylanatar, just brilliant. Poet Laureate you are\*, he mentally scolded himself. Had Kam always made him this nervous?

Thirty years, It wasn't a blink, more or less a breath to either of them. The day itself was, complicated at best. He'd never imagined that Rylan would be at the center of this mess and yet simultaneously he wasn't surprised to find the heir apparent there. Of course, he was sure the surprise went the same way. Since his return to his father's home, the thought crossed his mind several times about potentially never seeing Rylan again or ever leaving to the surface again.

Everything seemed to fall right back into place. Removing his own armor and gear, setting it over in a small corner on the floor in a seemingly destroyed land. Reveling scars both new to Rylan and old. Hell, several the drow was there for the forging of. Yet here they were, in a place that seems to exist just as out of time ans they were.

Kam couldn't help but bite back a smirk that played across his lips at the oh so eloquent 'hey'. Had they both really changed so much as to make one another's nerves rise to the surface. In an almost mocking tone, "Hey, " giving a moments pause before continuing, dropping the tone that went along with it. After all this time, the one trait that never seemed to fade was the care for the drow.  "How are you holding up?" He spoke while he leaned back up from the corner he'd began to claim as his own.

There was a sense of normalcy, almost muscle memory really that Rylan fell right back into as his hands pried at the buckles and latches that held his armor. His well-loved leather and the new mithral chain added to the small pile beside his boots. He had lost count of many times had days ended like this, but where his tricorner and overcoat used to be now laid Holy Avenger. A far cry from the assassin and brigand he once was.

Furtive glances showed the years that past between them in a story of new scars he now bore and Rylan’s chest hitched at the sight. While he was up here playing at baker and hero, Kam had been back home. A word for both of them promised violence from their families.

It was the smirk and tease that had him flush, his right hand running along the braids Thea had painstakingly done up hours before that were once again a disaster. Try as he might, Rylan wasn’t exactly the best at hiding his emotions, doubly so in present company.

“Honestly? Pretty bad.” He couldn’t lie; for one he cared to much for the man before him and even if he tried the hitch of his pulse would give him away clear as day. He sank into the end of the bed as his fingers began the process of weaving and detangling his curls. Kam had been there when his hair was sheared to the skull and what happened afterwards. That alone was proof of all that had past between them.

“I’m responsible for them all. They look at me and assume that I’m untouchable, unbeatable. That I’m this avenging hero that can and will always save the day and keep them safe. How do I tell them they’re wrong? That they placed their lives and faith in the hands of someone \*ruined\*. I already lost one of them... had to put him down to save his soul because that’s what I do best. They call me leader and here I am stalling because I’m too afraid to go back home...”

The words came out in a rush and Rylan rubbed at his face with both palms. “Are you okay? With your dad and back home?”

His red eyes fell back onto the sword he'd just taken from the recently spared celestial. How Rylan held ground for him in place of his own silence. He'd used to being  talked down to his whole life, well until the past 50 or so years. The other party members however, held no reason to back him. Only the sole fact Rylan did. Quaint isn't quite the word he's looking for to describe this so called Third Family. Those same red eyes traveled to the length of the cross bow among the pile of leathers. My how things have truly changed.

Home wasn't really a positive notion between the two of them. For Kam at least that changed around the time they parted ways, when he was sold off as material assets. He had a lot to explain to Rylan. Most of what the Deva was hinting at but not entirely speaking. Those red eyes were filled with no cruelty but a softness. It was as he expected, taking a moment he sat himself down next to the drow on the bed. relegating himself to simply listening, for what seemed like the first time Rylan was able to be honest about his feeling for the group.

"You might be ruined, and you might be just as broken as you feel. But what's to say they aren't the same? An through the course of whatever you managed to get yourself entangled in together... They saw something in you that you can't see just yet. Nine Hells, you used to do the same with me when all I could do was snarl." Kam gave a shake of his head, before placing his clawed hand on rylans shoulder. "They call you their leader not necessarily because you are one, but because they know you can navigate what they cannot. "

His eyes fell back towards the floor, there was a lot in that question that Kam wasn't  sure Rylan was ready for. "Azzagrat is fine, More than fine. I've been in luxury for the past 33 years." His lips pressed together in a thin line waiting with baited breath before continuing, "turns out your not the only prince running around on the surface. "

And perhaps it was visible in the dark ombre of his claws, or the cooler hues that ran under his skin paler tones. His facial structure as well resembled that of the Dark Prince. Even if his frame was much leaner.

As soon as Kam sat beside him, Rylan felt himself relax in a way he hadn’t in so long. Everything he said made sense; if anything hearing someone tell him he wasn’t broken would have him immediately close off and shut down. It was fine to be what he was with Kam. They didn’t have to hide or pretend and that freedom was the closest thing Rylan had felt to a prayer being answered before Titania found him. And the mention of how his companion used to be so far lost had his own smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “To be fair, I liked your snarls.”

The hand on his shoulder nearly tore a cry from his ragged soul. Rylan knew academically that he was touch starved for anything other than a whip, or blade but to have it confirmed was sobering. Without a second thought he nuzzled his cheek against his cold, pale hand with a sigh.

“You’re right. Thank you.” But no sooner had the words left his lips did he feel his oldest friend shift imperceptibly and Rylan shifted his weight to face him with a furrowed brow. Without a word he listened and while his eyebrows did raise in surprise , his blue eyes were gentle. “You know, if I was feeling up to my old bratty self, I’d say you were stealing my thunder...” The tease was there if only to show that it didn’t matter to him whomever made Kam; the man would never be anything less in his eyes even after all these years. He moved deliberately, carefully so that his hand wasn’t lingering in Kam’s peripheral before resting lightly beneath the band wrapping around his bare arm.

“You are still you. Not him. Just like you’ve told me I’m not my mother. And I’m not going anywhere; prisoners or princes it doesn’t matter, okay? But so help me if anyone ever tries to hurt you again because of him.” His voice pitched to a low and dangerous growl, the vampiric aura imparted to him from Cassian Lovelocke humming barely above his skin.

Kam ran a calwed hand through his hair pushing it back out of the way. "Probably because I didn't talk back to any one those days." Oh but the first moment he could, the vampire bit off more than he could chew for lack of better terms. Earning him more punishment than normal. Those scars were less surgical and more frustration. Absently his clawed thumb carefully rubbed to soothe whatever was causing ache for Rylan's mind when the drow nuzzled into his hand. Warm, alive, something, someone with meaning.

"We've both been called worse, but I don't need you fighting my fights for me anymore. There's no point in giving them the rise they want, it sounds like you could take a few pointers from my patron in patience. " Myrkul provided Kam with so much guidance when he needed it the most. Of how lying in wait, was the best option, how no being can cheat the inevitable. Which in part was why Kam said nothing when his patron was perceived as finite evil.

"That's the problem I don't think I mind the idea. Yes, I mean he's an Abyssal god but he's not as bad one would expect." Kam could only sigh, leaning his head to the side to search his face for anything other than the truth in those blue eyes. "He's done nothing but apologize in his own way after I was left to my own when Aernar died. \*He\* found me not the other way around. " A moment more and he cant help but smirk. "I've got you back, and I wouldn't be back if he'd not asked this simple task of me to find out whats going on up here.  I'm not fool enough to believe its for much more than curiosity. He wants more than what few realms of the Abyss he has. If the attacks upon the other gods will loosen their control of their levels. Its more power he can seize from them. "

A wild grin breaks across his face for a moment, "After this is done, Come back with me. Your mother wouldn't be able to reach you in the Argent Palace. " There's a spark of life in his eyes at the idea of it all. Dare one say excitement.

“Kam I don’t do what I do because I’m trying to fight your battles, I do it because you’re worth fighting for. It’s not because I don’t think you can handle it, I know better than anyone how deadly you can be. But you shouldn’t have to do it alone.” Maybe that was what originally started him on the path to goodness all those years ago; maybe being good wasn’t down to some great action but instead all of those mundane little  choices to try and be better than the people who abused them both.

And while it was hypocritical for the heir to think it but the idea that he might not believe him made the words all the more important to say. Even he didn’t really get the how or the why; he couldn’t classify what exactly they were or what the vampire meant to him. And that was okay. They simply were and that was enough. “Patience never was my virtue, but hey Titania likes me impulsive and mouthy. But I hear you.”

He shrugged gallantly, with a wave of his offhand the delicate poise born more of the courts topside than the dread Kingdom his mother had made their people’s into. “If you say so, then I believe you. And I should be the last person alive to make moral judgements in regards to deities popping into family trees. He apologized. \*Good.\* We could have met a better way but what’s done is done and if he’s making amends then I don’t have to make a fuss.” The hows and whys of Abyssal Gods weren’t exactly his forte no matter how many he’d put back into the ground.

The offer with it’s matching grin had Rylan grinning himself. By the Gods, he’d love nothing more. If Kam had asked even a week ago, before Rylan spoke with Shantris... He felt his smile slip a little and he hated that he had to bring up the elephant in the room. “I... wish I could. But G’eldaere wants me home. Married. Actively working on siring a daughter.” He had a plan, one only Shantris knew, but now was as good a time as any. “You’d have to help me take her out first. I want to free the Dark Elves...”

"That" He continued to hold the smirk that played at the corner of his lips, "That's why they follow you. You've never done things based on right or wrong, but equality. Its nothing to do with what made you, but who you are today because of it." Kam couldn't say the same for himself. While their paths continued to bisect and fate led them back to one another once again. He followed unwittingly in the footsteps of both his parents, even if he only knew of the one.

Rylan's patience was nothing he could innately comment on, whilst his own used to be nothing more akin to a rabid dog. Snarling, snapping at anything that came within range. Violence ingrained. "Its odd to think you once had more of it than I did" A conversation probably better left dropped and buried for the time being.

"To his credit, Rylan, I know that wasn't the intended plan for me. I was supposed to be sequestered, hidden in the shadowfell. It all just fell sideways too fast. " He was making excuses, nothing more or less than what he'd been told. "Its not like I could have been hidden else where being what I am. Anywhere else and I would have been killed outright. I've been living treated like I should have and I only want the same for you."

His mind started to race at the idea, nay goal. \*66th layer\* one more layer, one layer closer. Kam's mind wondered if taking out G'eldaere would spur Loth. Leaving a lower level wide open. Perhaps he was starting to think more akin to his Father than he realized. "I know this is going to sound a type of way,  Why start with her? If such an action would Anger... you know. Why not start higher up the chain. Prove your might and work your way down. You may not have to fight any one at all. "

"I'll help you free them, no one else deserves to be put through that anymore"

There was something to be said for having a person see through one’s masks and defenses, and while it meant Rylan could finally breathe and just \*be\* it still felt like being stripped bare. Vulnerability was a luxury and no one knew better than them.

He had a point. Another way they had changed but perhaps for the better? If they had stayed by each other’s side there was a good chance they wouldn’t be where they were now. He doubted he’d be a paladin, hell maybe he would have handled Torm’s betrayal better and stayed as a blood hunter? Too many what if’s and what might have been to think on. The past was just that and it was better left there.

Gods but he hated that he was right. Rylan knew how people up here treated anyone who didn’t fit the homogenous pompous ideal of the Daylnn Empire. It wasn’t so long ago hunters came for the Lovelocke coven and he had to flee to Little Grove. Hell, he could still hear Baolaon’s snide proposition and the thought made his skin crawl. Kam wouldn’t have been safe up here and even Rylan had to admit he couldn’t save everyone all the time. Orcus taught him that.

“I’m treated well enough considering I’m my mothers prize stallion she can’t wait to stud.” He snarled out the words heavy with revulsion. He knew his mother’s motivations and how she couldn’t help but be what she was. After all, the line wasn’t that her son not go through what he did, but that he was scarred up with shattered bones and constant pain.

“Already planning on it. And if I do it right she’ll come back, different, since she can’t be killed for good. I know Correllon has a hand in Civar’s plot and I’d rather throw the monkey wrench of his spurned ex-wife at him, spider legs and all, than deal with him on our own. I’m just certain I’ll have to go through my mother first.” He ran his hand through his hair, grateful to be able to have someone to say the words aloud to that wouldn’t judge him for planning on taking out the woman who bore him but her god too.

Gods how he'd missed this man. It was hard to contain any sort of grin from leaking to the surface regardless of the conversational topics. While he'd been relaxed and well fed for the better part of the last 33 years. This was the part he was missing, a void that kept its space open no matter what Kam chased to fill it with. No amount of vitae nor carnal pleasure filled the web Rylan wove.

"I don't have to tell you that she's wrong, you know that. " His mother's motives were among the worst. Not that Kam could really comment on the ideal. Until recently he didn't even know if his was still alive. But apparently she was, and doing quite well for herself. He audibly scoffed at the idea. Who ever she was, whatever she was, He'd not been important to her in a long time. Unless she hid him from Graz'zt on purpose....

For a moment, his eyes grow distant perhaps some questions shouldn't have been asked to begin with. Knowing, not knowing was in fact better at times. No, he cared not for her or her motives. Only three beings cared about his well being and one was passed on. The other two returned to him. "Yes but if We can turn Spider Bitch back to her former, She may help persuade your mother without notions of violence. It would be so much more satisfying that way, letting her live with the knowledge you accomplished the unthinkable. In fact, I might have a way in I just have to ask the right person. "

He recalled a conversation with his father, speaking on his fondness for the drow before him, more or less how he owed him his unlife time and time again. Graz'zt having his fair share of run-ins with Drow Clerics. There could be a way in there, if any were recently spurned....

"Civar's plot, I only have a grasp of the, for lack of better terms run down of it. Blocking off the higher realms and replacing them with their opposites. Which only strengthens the Abyss. If, parts I've heard line up, That would only be the cover for the entire thing. The Abyssal gods have been long fighting one another for singular control of the Abyss. This would shift the balance of power within the layers. Which would explain my father's interest in whats going on here. He hates Orcus, Demogorgon moreso. Anything that takes out his enemies and weakens their hold is worth taking note of. Or in some cases, strengthening..."

The conspiratorial conversation was comforting in a way Rylan really didn’t want to bother trying to rationalize right now. All that mattered was that they were together, and as of this moment no one still alive that had hurt them could find them. And frankly any opportunity to see Kam grin so brightly was bloody worth it. Rylan shifted a bit to sidle up closer to the vampire, sharing both the delight of the rather twisted conversation and his body heat.

And while he knew that his mother seeing his only worth was to have a child, it was cathartic to hear it spoken aloud. But when he saw Kam’s eyes go faraway all thought of his scheming mother evaporated. With his leg tucked up under him, Rylan gently traced circles with his thumb along Kam’s bicep beneath the strap. Trying to ground and comfort and soothe one of the few ways he could. Family was complicated, that’s why he would be forever grateful to Jii for giving him one that genuinely loved him. And he would be damned if they couldn’t be that for Kam as well.

“It’s the hope, but G’eldaere is a zealot. That’s the only variable I can’t suss out. But the only way she lives is if she abdicates the throne to me and faces judgment for the atrocities she’s committed and been complicit of. No more slaves. No more suffering for the glory of the misandrist clerics. I demand nothing short of it.” It was here that the seedling of a King was visible. Hell, Shantris had already taken the knee to him as her High King and it was the first time he acted like it into front of Kam. His People, His Responsibility. “My mother will pay for the blood on her hands. That of the people who trusted her to protect them and ours.”

But if Kam could help... if Graz’zt would help? The possibility of stopping the ceaseless brutality was worth any price and he would pay dearly for it. “Anything, Kam. What would he want from me? As far as I’m concerned if he wants the Abyss, he can have it. Just keep them all in line.”

If anything, he'd learned from his father besides physicality in combat was politics. Knowing one's weakness to exploit it, bend it to a will and give it a name. That was going to be of something useful, if only to Rylan in this moment. They'd both dealt with zealots long enough and then some. "I suppose that's where we have the upper hand. What is a zealot without their cause? Nothing, they lose their focus and grasp. If anything saving your mother for last may help just showing up with a reformed Queen of the Demonwebs."

What if they could cause her to faulter, loose her purpose and submit without a rightful cause. "We, you, don't have to be the one to make her step down. She can do it for us when she sees the state of her people. If anything she may just simply take that responsibility from you and let you live your life how you see fit. " Hopeful, perhaps but it may be enough, sometimes that's all one needs is hope for a better future. Kam's own was to simply remain in the Abyss, there was no place for him on the material plane.

"I imagine just that, I mean you really have been doing him a favor already. Orcus is weakened, among others. Which means he's one step closer, not that he already wasn't above the rest of them. " Perhaps Rylan was still the same at his core it would seem. "Enemy of my enemy and all."

His gaze slipped down to Rylan's hand near the band on his bicep. He didn't know why he was still wearing it. The pain that followed along with it at every turn, every action and flex of muscle and bone. Perhaps he didn't know what he would do without that pain. Existing, grounding. He wasn't Shadar Kai, but perhaps it still held the same effect? Pinning his soul to his form. Maybe it was just the idea of removing the six inch spike from his bone that was fear enough.

"I can't bring myself to take it off,"

He wanted, \*needed\*, his mother not to fuck this up. And while Rylan prayed that she wouldn’t do something exceptionally stupid, he couldn’t guarantee it. To survive he had to constantly know more than all of his countless enemies, the greatest of all his mother and Lolth. He could hazard some hope but he would not abide naïveté.

“It sounds perfect.”  There was a lot of maneuvering room and options should things go sour and the more they spoke the less this hairbrained scheme felt ill-conceived. “War makes odd bedfellows. Besides, I’d like to be able to see where you’ve been the last few decades. I think being on your father’s good side would be smart.”

He would be lying if he said it broke his heart to see Kam in pain. It was something they had in common after all, in Rylan’s case his constant pain was born from The First Blade’s sadism. “I get it. I didn’t take off my collar until about a week before I met all of them.” His voice pitched low, High Elven accent rumbling in his chest before he looked up through his lashes to catch Kam’s eye. “I want your soul to stay put. But \*fucking hell\* I hate knowing how it hurts.”

His eyes closed in a grimace, a different heavy weight pulling on his shoulders. “They’re important to me. They’ve saved me so many times without realizing it. So seeing them come to your defense against that angel meant a lot.” And once more Rylan struggled, as he had for nearly a century to find the words to explain what he felt. How important this fight. How precious his friends... how precious \*Kam\* was to him. “I’ll burn the heavens down to the ground if anyone tries to take my family away from me. If they try to take you away from me again. I am not losing anyone else again...” The raw desperation burned his throat, as he swore an unspoken vow to Titania. A line in the sand. He refused to forget and be content anymore. \*Never again...\* It was a good thing The Red Woman was dead and condemned in the Demonwebs for her sake.

That had been the initial plan, wasn't it. To sway those turning the abyssal gods back into his favor. Now it seemed to be easier than anticipated, mutual interests aligned. "I'll need to speak with him eventually, but I don't think given your present company would feel all to keen about an abyssal god being involved. I'm not in the same vein as your dragon born friend. He's an unwilling pawn whom doesn't seem to be keen on the idea of his patron. I'm not going to ask you too keep this from them if it comes up, but I have no intentions on bringing it up to them either."

And that fear would linger for the time someone figured it all out and uttered his real name around this Third party. It alone would be enough for some of them to connect the dots. It isn't that he didn't trust Rylan, It was the others.

Part of him wondered if the Deva could sense the Tanar'ri blood line in him. Considering how may His father felled during the many points in time. His head would have made a worthwhile revenge. But as he said to the now spurred deva, they were beneath him. He' taken the blade as his own, but not at the moment could determine what to do with it.

His eyes softened not just hearing but listening to Rylan speak on keeping everyone. "Rylan..." His voice soft, taking the Drow's hand in his own cold one. "That's not a promise you can keep, you'll tear yourself apart trying to uphold it. You can't help everyone before helping yourself. You're not help to any one of if youre dead. And I for one like you very much alive." There was nothing wrong with wanting to help, but if anything one needed to learn to pick and choose their battles.

"Besides, Burning the heavens down is kind of what your trying to stop is it not?" Sarcasm, just blatantly that.

Of course the man whose mind was always three steps ahead forgot a detail so simple yet intrinsic. He still hadn’t come to terms with his own alignment yet, let alone the obvious fact of his party’s in contrast to Kam. He had been evil when they first met and his slow albeit chaotic path towards neutrality wasn’t ever a problem. But they were diametrically opposed from one another and the ramifications of that choice clattered around in his mind with an overwhelming panic. Days, hell hours ago, he was so certain of what he stood for but if the price was losing Kam he couldn’t and wouldn’t pay it.

“They trust me. And I trust you. That has to be...” His pulse thundered in his skull as the roaring in his ears of sheer panic overcame him like a wave. Choosing between them all would rip him apart as sure as \*She\* had. “..that has to be enough.” It took everything in him to keep his breathing even and he tried to count back from ten in the hopes of being \*here\* and \*now\*.

As Kam took his hand, Rylan clenched his jaw. Every muscle in his body tense not from his companion but from the abject fear of failing again. “As sure as I have Lolth’s blood in my veins I’ll damn well try. The Gods are just as fallible as anyone down here and they aren’t innocent of debts to pay. I’m sick and tired of all of us being disposable to them. Correllon’s actions left six races of elves helpless with only my people to protect them and they died anyway. If I don’t try and stop it, who will?”

He gently pulled their clasped hand to his chest and knew with how anxious he was his heartbeat and warmth would be plain as day. “I’m alive. But I can’t promise I won’t do anything foolish. Can that be enough?”

At his sarcasm, Rylan grinned wryly before arching a thin white eyebrow. “My Goddess is of the Feywild. Not Heavens. They’re not my responsibility.” His voice was thready as Kam’s words echoed in his head. What kind of king would he be one day if he didn’t risk it all? What kind of man?

Kam's path was that of Nature over nurture, falling into the necessary skill sets and patterns to keep himself as living as he could be. To exist in the material plane and remain unseen was to follow its laws, twisting them to his benefit at times whilst circumventing others. In short, politics. Techniques learned and observed from many a days in the courts of the Argent Palace. For that he wasn't chaotic as he used to be, Yet his nature demanded demanded of his alignment. A true form of a predator, unlike other creatures of his ilk. He existed this way, not turned. Perhaps his sister was of the same cloth if he could ever find her.

"I'm not naive enough to think it will sit well with some of them, in fact with what you've all faced before I found you it would be down right stupid to. While they have all the reason to trust you, I could be that which fuels their doubt. Let me vouch for myself in case it does go sideways they still have their trust in you unturned" The last thing Ka wanted for Rylan was to rip what little family he'd found away from him. Kam had a place to return to if something were to go awry, Rylan.... What awaited him?

Nothing either of them wished to return to.

"Correllon will have his, one way or another, but in doing so the wrong way then you wont be able to, We let Her deal with Him alright?"

His laugh was filled with a bit of mirth, Feeling the regular pulse of life that traveled through his veins. It was not a welcomed nor unwelcomed feeling. His own was a bit of a mystery, as many a curious dark minds saw fit to figure it out. "I suppose it'll have to be, besides there's no reward without the risk. Everyone has to be a little foolish every now an then. Perhaps thats why your Feywild Goddess sought you out. Impatient ass"

As much cowardice that he felt it was, Rylan didn’t want to think about the possible implications that all this would mean. Kam was being a realist and Rylan adored him for it. Because as much as he hated to admit, he was still a dreamer and he was so busy losing himself in the fantasy of a future he’s denied looking at how everything was colossally fucked. It was sobering in a way he never wanted to face.

For the first time in his life, he had the fatal flaw that he himself loved exploiting in others. He had something to lose. It was a weakness and damn him to the Nine but he didn’t want to give them all up. Because this collection of souls he had gathered around him were all he had. His mother was a means to an end. His father was a whisper of potential answer walled off in Faerûn. His people were so twisted it would take generations to undo the damage and he needed to be be responsible for them as a symbol. His party were held together by loss and purpose. His... Kam was the only tether he had that proved he survived hell and didn’t came out alone. It was such an easy, exploitable mistake.

And he could care less.

“As long as he pays for his sins.” Rylan’s head tipped forward in weariness and a bitter smile matched eyes staring far off. The tavern with Thea was a pipe dream. And he could suffer the weakness in wanting it just a little longer. While he was still just Rylan and not yet Rylantar Baenre.

Just barely bent forward over their clasped hands made his hair spill over his shoulder and it was Kam’s laugh that pulled him back from the yawning maw of his future. “You like me impatient.” The growled edge to his voice made his chest thrum against their hands as he tilted his head up with a smirk. “Foolish. Impatient ass. Smart ass. Impulsive. Am I missing any?” Every chide Kam had ever thrown his way still echoed in his mind even after all these years. Gods above he missed being able to rile the vampire up with his antics.

Ah Rylan, always with his head in the clouds, wanting to dream just a little bit longer before Kam pulled him back to reality. A steady theme between the two of them whom now seemed to echo polar opposite even more so now than ever before. Living and the dead, the dreamer and the realist, Good and evil. Paladin and Warlock. It was akin to some of those tragic tales bored bards one too many deep in their drinks would sing on a dreary day.

"Rylan if you're tired, stop fighting it and sleep. " knowing that further calling the drow out on his behavior would probably only irritate him further in the best possible ways. No armor was strong enough to save him. "I'll still be here when you wake up. except this time it wont be in a seedy part of a ill willed town. And there is no stolen .... Okay there's one stolen thing." Perhaps while Rylan rested he could attempt to sway the weapon to his ways.

"I plead no such liking good sir" pulling his hand up to pop him in the chin lightly, lifting his head back up out of a submissive position. "If you want me to keep going I can, Dreamer. "

"Goody two shoes"

....

\*"Boy.. Scout"\*

“Only my mind is tired...” Rylan groused, ever the brat. At first he tried a playful roguish grin before giving up with a small pout. Kam was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Gods he remembered that night and how thoroughly soaked and frozen he was. “Some things never change. But if \*I\* have to sleep \*you\* have to eat.”

A wistful look washed over him as Kam lifted his chin and the instant wave of heat flared to life. Dreamy half-lidded eyes went into soft focus and it didn’t matter what Kam asked, Rylan would give it to him.

“...mmm.. you’re not wrong...” He offered Kam a lazy smile, beyond pleased with himself. “And I’ll sleep as soon as you tell me how you plan on taking care of yourself too.” And while he knew he wouldn’t nearly be fast enough, he turned his head just so to playfully nip at Kam’s hand. A behavior picked up from the Lovelockes and probably the strangest way to be affectionate but what about him wasn’t just so slightly off? It was the last few names he called him that made his pulse catch; Goody two shoes had him grinning with abandon, Dreamer made another rush of warmth settle in his chest, and Boy Scout turned his blood to fire in his veins.

Kam couldn't help but roll his eyes at the concern. "I will be fine for a few more days, " The only thing He wanted for the drow at the time was for his mind to rest. The had been long, hard, emotionally draining and taxing for more reasons than presented themselves. If anything he needed to weave back into the patterns of feeding and fasting again rather than simply gorging himself whenever.

"I" He paused for a moment, leaning forward keeping his face mere inches from Rylan's searching through those blue orbs, but cautious enough to not cause too much of an influence as to skew his freewill. "Hardly am".

"I'm going to give it some time" He leaned back onto the bed, resting on his elbows for a moment before he proceeded to roll off the bed. Standing once more. "I need to see about what I can do with this sword  off that celestial moron"

Rylan tensed his jaw, fixing the vampire with a withering look. He had a feeling he knew what ‘living in luxury’ meant; the Lovelockes were hedonists and they would barely hold a candle to where Kam had been. And while there was unquestioning trust that he knew his limits, Rylan couldn’t help but worry what would happen in a few days if there wasn’t anywhere inconspicuous for him to feed. But the words died on his lips as Kam leaned close. It took a few heartbeats for him to fall into his red eyes and rational thought crumbled into dust.

And just like that he was gone. Rylan felt the warmth flaming violet across his cheeks and he narrowed his eyes in mock frustration. “Pain in the ass.” With a shake of his head and a familiar mantra replaying over in his head to regain his composure, Rylan distracted himself with stretching out the tension in his back.

“Have fun playing with the present I got you.” His voice was teasing and light but the accent wasn’t his usual faked High Elven but the low rasp of the Underdark. It wasn’t as much of a teasing bait to rise to as what Kam had just played on him but he’d been told many a time that the low growled purr of his actual accent was a tease.

But as much as he hated to admit it he was tired and knowing Kam was trying to take care of him eased a loss he hadn’t realized he had been feeling. Peeling out of his tunic, he finished taking care of his hair with one of the oils he’d made. Careful of the constant fire in his right knee, Rylan pulled back the covers and slid boneless into bed.

After a moment he lifted his head, hating himself even as his lips formed the barely audible words. “...stay close? I... the nightmares have been pretty bad lately.”

Luxury was perhaps the mildest way to describe what could only be nothing short of a temple of blood. Corrupting, oozing down the walls, an immense chamber build for simply the one purpose of torture. Perhaps those were details best left to the way side, He'd not changed for the better, unlike Rylan. This brand of luxury was more than just simple hedonism. Whilst part of him wished he'd simply stayed back, thus far the decision had been worth it.

A comment he'd let slide, once maybe twice and Kam truly deserved it this time. For that he could only shake his head. Knowing the effect he held on Rylan at the moment. It would have been so easy to simply keep pressing those all to close to the surface buttons, but Rylan wasn't a toy. Nor would Kam ever let any one treat him like one ever gain if he could prevent it.

"Oh you mean from the fight you instigated?" Words spilled from his list in a heinous violent sounds, not akin to any spoken in the past couple of hours as the noise was nothing short of Abyssal as he began to inspect the blade. If he could even bend it to his will was another matter entirely. He could sit and focus on it all night an it result to a resounding nil.

"I'm not going any where" Kam leaned back looking over his shoulder at the now visibly fatigued drow. "I'll be right here"

in fact it was all too easy to simply stay, seated at the side of the bed nearest to Rylan now, on the floor. The large sword laid across his crossed legs.

Now that he was laying down, Rylan couldn’t ignore how much pain he was in. He curled up on his side facing Kam, shifting restlessly to try and get comfortable. His hand worked at the scar tissue in his knee, the constant burning tracing halfway up his thigh as his brow wrinkled in pain. And while the part of him that was a blood doll was twisted up feeling rejected, he understood. It was different with Kam. He just didn’t want to explain \*why\* it was different and risk ruining everything.

There came a point long ago where pain went from something fleeting into a constant state of being. And while he had found his own way of coping with it that gave him agency that didn’t mean long fights didn’t take everything out of him.

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you.” A quiet murmur, his faked accent long gone as he responded sleepily in Abyssal.“... he’s lucky he’s alive.” As Rylan tried to find the peace inside himself necessary to slip into his restorative trance, he curled up closer to the edge of the bed and letting his hand drift off the edge seeking his companion.

Between the soft words and making sure he stayed in physical contact with the vampire, Rylan finally relaxed. “Night Kam.” his voice low and husky, murmuring in Abyssal before slipping into rest.

#### *Thea and Ruinfea*

Ruinfea made herself a cup of dandelion tea. She didn’t know what to do while they were waiting. Bryn seemed to be busy writing, Rylan and Kam were catching up (as far as she could tell), and she wasn’t sure what Thea was doing.

“Would anyone else like some tea or anything?”

Bryn looked up from the table. “Coffee, please, if there is any.”

Ruinfea places a cup of coffee beside the tea Fuego has already brought Bryn.

“Thanks,” Bryn said as she continued to write. She nearly knocked the cup over in her distraction, but managed to finish a short while later without incident, sitting back with a long sigh.

Ruinfea looks over as Thea walks into the room. “Thea, would you go for a walk with me through the gardens. I want to pick up some herbs and things.”

Thea had been making her way to the table where Bryn, Fuego and Ruinfea where gathered. She had been thinking   quite a bit since their journey to the Plain of Knowledge. "Sure Ruinfea, some fresh air will do me some good."

Ruinfea really needed to clear her head after all that had gone on. She didn’t want everyone to know just how much all of these things confused her. Fresh air would do some good so she was glad when Thea said she would go with her. She just didn’t want to be alone.

This place, Gael Aethal, seemed out of time. It was beautiful and proved to be far from what the stories said of it. Thea took in a deep breath, smelling the sweet and herbal scent in the air as she and Ruinfea made their way through the gardens. "Oghma was..." she paused to choose her words, "interesting."

“I’ve never met a god like that, honestly it was making my blood boil the way Oghma talked to Bryn.” She remembered how upset it made her but how Bryn was so calm and collected. “I keep getting confused with all of these names and places. Half of the time I don’t know what Rylan is talking about and it makes me feel stupid. How do you remember this stuff?”

"I have a rough time of it as well. Names of places have at least always come easily to me. I suppose its from all the songs I've had to memorize over the years." She gazed over at her friend. It hurt her to think Ruinfea felt stupid when she was so very brilliant. "Rylan though, he runs circles around me with his theories and knowledge of the world."

“It’s hard to keep up with his brain. He’s so smart about all this stuff. I know a lot of my issues are that I haven’t been to as many places so I’m trying to learn. Now that Kam is here, I feel like Rylan has someone on his own wavelength to talk to. I’m happy for him, but also worried that he won’t need us anymore. I don’t know what I would do without all of you.”

Thea could hear the worry in Ruinfea's tone and she couldn't help but feel a bit of that way too. She wanted Kam's addition to the party to make them stronger, but she understood what Ruinfea was saying. Could their age old friendship put a rift in the party? She didn't want to think so. "I hope that doesn't happen, and I don't think it will. But I can understand the concern." She put a hand on Ruinfea's shoulder. Their party had become so tight knit in such a quick amount of time. Part of that was from necessity she knew, but part of it was something deeper. The third family had become what one another needed most in the world.

Ruinfea started staring at a random flower and her thoughts drifted back to when she lost the only true friend she had ever had. She couldn’t go through that again. It was hard enough losing Jii. She hadn’t really talked to the family about her past relationship. Bits and pieces had come up, especially when her so called parents were being their horrid selves. Knowing that they had lied to her brothers about the whole situation hurt more than she could put into words. “I just don’t know how to explain the way I’ve been feeling.”

Thea took a seat on a nearby bench. Surrounded by the beauty that was the grounds. Flowers, and plants of all sorts flourished here. "Take your time, I find that the right words always seem to show up when you least expect them to. But know that I am here to listen when you find your way." She leaned back against the bench and gazed up at the clouds, taking in a long deep breath, one that felt like the first she had taken in a very long time.

Ruinfea sat next to Thea. How could this place even exist. The overwhelming beauty of this garden was enough to give her the courage to speak a bit more. “I know there was a lot said by my so called parents and my brother about a certain person...” she stopped a second to keep back tears from coming. Her parent betrayal still laid heavily on her. Especially the lies that were told.

Thea turned slightly to face her friend, who really felt more like a sister. She put a hand over Ruinfea's and waited. Giving her support to continue.

“You see, a lot of the things they said were true. I did leave home. I went on my own to escape their treachery. If I had known what would happen to my brothers I would have taken them with me. Not that I would know how to take care of them but still.” She paused. “However the biggest issues my parents ended up having with me, was when they sent spies to see what I was doing. I wish I had know them how to spy a spy. That wasn’t to be though. I was traveling and was attacked. I did the best I could with the magic I knew to fight off whoever could be attacking me. Out of nowhere they started running and screaming. I couldn’t think of a reason they would be running from me...and then I saw her- Kava.” Saying her name out loud made Ruinfea blush a little and she started twisting the small pouch around her neck over and over in her hands. She had to keep control of her emotions. She couldn’t let that keep her from telling her friend what was going on in her head.

Thea could picture the scene in her head, the details running through her mind. Alone on a road, fighting for her life when a stranger intervenes. It was like something out of an epic. How terrifying it must have been. "This Kava, she saved you?"

“ She did. Honestly, I had never seen a Dragonborn up close until that day. Her scales were shades of green from emerald to forest and they shimmered in the light. It was a bit of a shock to be sure. After that, we were inseparable. We traveled around the area and just tried helping those who needed it. It was some of the best days of my life.” Ruinfea gets a sad look on her face.

Thea's face reflected Ruinfea's. She could see the hurt in her eyes. "She sounds lovely." Thea knew Ruinfea was older than herself, but she wasn't sure by how much. Her own experience with Dragonborn was very limited, mostly to Fuego. "How long ago did you meet her?"

“It was about 10 years ago or so. I have to be honest, I fell for her hard. She had saved me and was my constant companion. However, I never told her how I felt. The right ‘time’ never came up. I’m afraid that picking a ‘right time’ was stupid on my part. I will never know if she reciprocated my feelings.” A tear falls down Ruinfea’s cheek as she turns away from Thea. She tries so hard not to let people see when she is really hurting cause she doesn’t want them to think she’s weak.

"We can't control who we fall for and how hard. It's one of the few things that can't be contained." She gave Ruinfea's hand a squeeze. "And I honestly don't think there is ever a 'right time.'" Her heart ached, knowing how living without answers can be painful. She gathered from Ruinfea's reactions that Kava was no longer 'here.' She took in another deep breath and closed her eyes. Her short life had been full of such love from her parents and the people she surrounded herself. She knew her existence had been blessed in a way. While she knew this, she understood not everyone was so lucky, and she strove to understand as much as she could about the world and other's experiences. Her mind wandered to the loss of Jii. The closest loss she had known.

Ruinfea took a deep breath as the next part was going to be the hardest. “We were out helping some people. It was about a year ago now. We didn’t realize it but we were surrounded by a orcs. This shouldn’t have been a problem. We’d dealt with worse and this was just another day. The family that had asked us to help them were a family of gnomes who had come to the area. The orcs were taking over there land and we were helping. Kava was shot with an arrow (which seemed fine at the time). Like I said we had dealt with much worse. But after we had dealt with the orcs Kava fell to the ground. She was shaking and I knew how bad she was hurting. We found out that the orcs had used some sort of poison on the arrow and as we had gotten rid of them all there was no way to know what they used. I tried everything and went to everyone I could. But we didn’t have much time at all. Within 5 days she could no longer move on her own. She could speak enough to give her last requests. She told me that when she passed she wanted to be burned on a pire. I was to use her ashes to create an immortality spell.” She handled the small leather bag again. “I keep her with me everywhere,  but I still never told her how I felt. I was so busy trying to save her like she saved me that I missed her last breath. I will never be able to get over that.” Ruinfea began sobbing and put her head on Thea’s shoulder for comfort. “I don’t know what to do now.”

It felt like all of the air around them had gone still. Thea sat, shocked by the brutality of Ruinfea's story. She couldn't fathom what it felt like to loss someone in such a manner. She stared at Ruinfea, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't know what to tell her, as her eyes moved between Ruinfea's face and the small pouch clutched in her hand. Before she said anything else, Thea wrapped her arms around her, enveloping Ruinfea in a hug. She wasn't going to let go until Ruinfea told her to.

They sat there sobbing in silence for a bit. This was one of the first times Ruinfea had allowed herself to actually let the grief come through. It wasn’t just Kava-although that was a huge part of it- but also the fact that they had lost Jii too. So much loss. She pulled back from Thea. “Thank you for letting me just explode all of that out. See I also feel guilty because I really am starting to feel something for Loray.” She paused thinking about how he grabbed her hand to save her just as Kava had saved her. “Is it too soon to be allowed to be happy. Should I wait longer. I’m not rushing anything especially with all that is going on. It is the least important thing, but I have to find a balance not to feel this guilt. Kava is gone and I cannot bring her back.”

Thea pulled back as well, but her hands remained bracing Ruinfea's arms. "I think, if I were in a situation such as this, I wouldn't want my loved one to suffer as you are." She tries to choose her words carefully. As she ponders she rifles through her pocket and produces a clean, soft clothe. "Here, dry your eyes." She hands the clothe to Ruinfea. "I can see the connection between you and Loray. It's sweet." She puts her hands in her lap. She had never had that sort of feeling for another. She knew the reputation most bards held but that wasn't her. "I don't think there is a too soon to foster a connection with another. Especially if that someone makes you feel the way you do."

“I just don’t want it to get in the way of what we are trying to do. I’m struggling to know what is the right thing to do. I know eventually I will need to talk to Loray and tell him about Kava and my past, but I’m not ready for that yet. I also don’t want him to think I’m indifferent towards him either.” She dried her eyes with the clothe that Thea handed her. She was started to feel bad taking up all of this time and the lovely atmosphere with her problems. That’s what she did. Worry about how everything she does affects others. She noticed a really beautiful orange flower next to the bench and focused on it as she tried to calm the sobbing.

Thea sat back against the bench. "I don't think this will get in the way of our plans. Loray seems to be set to stay with the party for now, but that's a conversation for the two of you." She leaned her head back and savored the breeze.

“I’m glad you were able to see your parents of only for a brief time. They seem lovely, and really love you.”

Sitting here with Thea was nice. Just to take a breather and relax even for a bit. There was so much for them to do, but just spending some time together was nice. “I wonder how Rylan and Kam’s reunion is going. They probably have so much to catch up on. I can’t even imagine.”

Her parents. She wished she had gotten to make sure they were alright after the attack at the ball, but she knew they were being taken care of. "They really are. I've been very lucky in that department, and they'll gladly make you an honorary Chandler. Probably the whole party actually." She beamed. "As for Rylan and Kam, I get the sense their relationship is one that will pick up where they left off." She could see Rylan's trust in Kam, but she was reluctant to trust him so easily. It wasn't anything to do with who he is, just a feeling in her gut she couldn't ignore. Not that she would be rude or unkind, just reserved for a least a little while.

“After all that I could really use a drink, what about you?”

"Agreed" She gets up and offers a hand to Ruinfea to help her up. "Tea or something stronger?"

“I’m thinking something stronger. I think we will need it!”

She accepts Thea’s hand as she gets up.

“I wonder if anything is open to grab a couple bottles to take back with us?”

“Heading back is probably a good idea. I guess if we see anything on the way we can get it. If not whatever is in the cupboards will do.”

#### *Fuego and Bryn*

Bryn finds a table in a corner and sits down. As is her custom, she takes out the document and her writing supplies. But she doesn’t unwrap it; instead, she sits silently staring - lost in thought.

Fuego had grabbed some food and two cups of tea. He quietly set one down for Bryn. Then he sat a chairs space away as to not infringe on Bryn’s work space, since he had food he didn’t think Bryn’s work would benefit from crumbs.

He sat in silence with Bryn. He was astounded at how their trip to the plane of knowledge went, particularly how Bryn handled being ‘dressed down’ in front of everyone. He was also happy to finally have a name to his flame wearing pursuer.

Bryn looks over at Fuego. Her eyes show she’s glad to see him there, but her face remains serious. She gives him a small nod, then slowly unwraps the package, carefully removes the top page, finds where she left off, and slowly begins to write with a heavy hand that threatens to tear the page.

Fuego sat being mindful to not chew loudly or sloppily sip his tea as Bryn wrote. He sat quietly as she worked on journaling, he presumed, well everything. Bryn always seemed to be astute when it came to details. He smiled slightly, at the thought of someday their story being read and shared for generations.

Bryn watched Thea and Ruinfea head out the door, which softly closed behind them. Rylan and his friend had not yet reappeared; Bryn expected they would be some time.

She looked at Fuego. “So. I guess it’s you and me for now. I mean, if you want that, that is.”

Fuego had finished the remains of his meal, looking up he noticed what Bryn meant having not fully realized Thea and Ruinfea had briefly joined them. He had evidently been lost in the enjoyment of his food. “It appears so,” he said setting his plate aside, “How are you doing?”

“Depends on the moment. How much do you want to hear?”

Fuego took a sip of his tea before leaning back into his chair. “As much as you’d like to share my friend.”

“All right then. Excuse me just a minute. After the time we’ve had . . .”

Bryn went to the cabinet she thought she saw Ruinfea take the tea and coffee from and looked for something . . . stronger. Finding a bottle that smelled like those in the Beagle and the Lizard, she poured the contents into her tankard.

She might be angry, but she wasn’t \*that\* stupid.

(*DM Note: Alcohol*

*Sul Paga: alcoholic drink made from suls, a vegetable like a potato simular to strong vodka or moonshine. It is clear, almost tasteless, and very strong and served at room temperature.*)

Fuego cocked an ‘eyebrow’ at Bryn needing some liquid courage.

“Frankly, I’m angry. Maybe angrier than I’ve ever been. After all I did, all I gave up, he has the audacity to do . . . \*that\*?

He even said I was right! I was right about Civar and about the glue and about Enoreth being incoherent. That last bit is a piece of knowledge that would’ve pleased him in the past.

I found a way to the plane of knowledge that shouldn’t’ve been possible.

But because I was right, I was wrong? Because I wouldn’t claim to be Voice - which wasn’t mine to take - means I’ve messed things up?

And it’s not like I didn’t ask him! I did. I told him I would do anything for him; I just needed to know what was right. And though I felt him, he remained silent.”

\*Bryn paused for a moment to catch her breath and collect her thoughts.\*

“And then he says knowledge isn’t about what’s right, it’s about the story - what’s that even mean? He asks me what I thought it meant to fill the scroll.

I’m a chronicler! It means to write!! I mean, is this even worth it anymore? (she gestures toward the stack of paper on the table).

And then he decides that I’ve messed things up so badly I’ve got to reassemble some kind of organization I don’t even know about and he wouldn’t even tell me anything.

And that’s another thing: everyone got an answer to their question but me. Anyone would’ve known what I meant, but he goes all cryptic.

So now he’s in my head. How is that different from the thing that gave me my mark, or the elders in Spriggan? Just because it’s him doesn’t make it any better.”

\*She stopped again, taking an even longer pause.\*

“And the worst thing is . . . The worst thing is . . . the worst thing is he’s \*right\*

I’ve always been a bit proud of my knowledge: identifying objects and sometimes even seeing things that Rylan didn’t see. Look how I treated Hetzel! I wanted to teach her to read and write to prove I could do it.

I didn’t claim to be voice because I wanted to be \*asked\*.

And I really did think that Rylan harangued Enoreth. Maybe I haven’t been charitable enough to him. I know he has things he hasn’t told anyone.

So maybe I really do deserve all this.

But for the first time I’ve got to do something that I have no idea what the right thing to do is, and there’s no one who \*can\* tell me what to do.

The strange thing is, Oghma’s given me exactly what I wanted. I know who I am - I am his; he did not reject me. And I know what I’m supposed to do: regroup the Namers.

Funny how the things we want end up being the things to cause us grief.”

She drained the rest of her tankard and set it down.

“Not that that stuff actually did anything, but it felt good to have it.”

She looked at Fuego expectantly.

Fuego sat in a bit of odd silence for a moment, mostly because he was fairly certain this was not only the most Bryn had spoken directly to him, but also the most animated she had been as well.

He sipped hi tea again, “Well first, how did that feel getting all of that out? And secondly has that helped you learn something about yourself or Oghma?”

Fuego thought for a moment before giving Bryn a chance to fully answer. “Our dealings with our gods, or in my case Patron, are often a form of a contract and sadly there is often small details or nuances we often overlook.” He left out a soft laugh, “ or in my case don’t even remember.”

He leaned forward in a comforting way, “I’m not trying to be patronizing, just ... I suppose trying to put things into it perspective. Your God if they where truly displeased with your actions could have stripped you of your power, but instead he knows what you are capable of and wants embolden you by setting a challenge before you to hopefully enrich you.”

Bryn looked at Fuego and gave a sort of grin. “Well you can certainly cut straight to the chase.”

She went back to the coffee.

“At least you didn’t run off in the middle of that. And you know what? Just getting it out has helped a bit.

As for learning something about myself, I’d say I’m being forced to confront the things I always knew were there but did my best -imperfectly, it turns out - to hide.

As for Oghma, I have a feeling I’m going to be learning a lot more about him going forward. Apart from what he actually looks like.

\*Bryn allowed herself a chuckle\*

I think what annoys me most of the whole thing, putting aside as much personal emotion as I can, is that he’s in my head. And it’s not even that he’s there, but it’s that he didn’t ask, he just did it.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to do my godsdamn best to fulfill this pilgrimage . . . quest . . . thing, because I don’t want to fail him again.

It’s one thing to think you’re a screwup, and another to be told you are by someone else. But when your god tells you “you done messed up”? That’s a feeling I’d rather not feel again in a hurry.”

Fuego just had a small smile at Bryan’s observation of Fuego’s way to be concise, and nodded at the notion of someone else’s voice in their head. Asgoroth knows he’s been dealing with his own interlopers voice.

“And because of that feeling you won’t.” He set his cup down. “Being annoyed at that particular situation is quite honestly natural, I myself deal with it, however it’s how we react to it that shows us who we truly are.”

Bryn went to take another swig of coffee and realized the cup was empty. She frowned in frustration as she set it down again.

“I guess I really am preaching to the choir, as they say. Sorry if any of that was offensive. I just . . .

You know, this may be the first real conversation we’ve had, and it’s been me complaining.

Thank you for listening. I promise I’m not \*always\* like this.”

Fuego swirled the remains of his tea in his cup before downing it. “I was thinking the same thing myself.” He left that hang for a movement as he set his now empty cup down. “The conversation part, not the bit of you preaching.” He said with a smile of warmth.

“You’ll get through this. We all will.” He gestured towards where he thought Rylan, Kam, Ruinfea and Thea had all gone off too. “I know we will because in-spite of the hell, for some literal, we’ve all been through. Somehow we have found ourselves in each others company. Individually we are all an oddity of sorts but together we’ve not only accomplished astounding feats, but brought out the best in each other.”

Bryn nodded in agreement.

“So. Anything you’ve got weighing on your mind. Not that you have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just . . . I’d hate to be the only taking if you had anything you wanted to say.”

Fuego thought for a moment, he had practically bore his proverbial heart to everyone before their trip to the plane of knowledge. “I’m honestly relieved to at least have a name to go along with the image of my patron. I had been feeling at a disadvantage since I still don’t recall any details of our bargain.”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll go on calling her Fire Tits. Don’t want to say her name too much or we might draw her attention even more . . .”

Fuego nodded, “Indeed, I am curious if when next her and I ‘speak’ if it’ll even phase her that I know her name.”

Fuego got up and was about to get some tea but held up the bottle of Sal Paga to see if Bryn wanted some.

“Will she know unless you speak it to her?”

Bryn shook her head at Fuego’s offer. “No more for me, thanks, even if I can avoid the after effects.”

Fuego made a face of acknowledgment “That’s what I’m wondering.” He said pouring some into his cup before returning to his seat. “She does seem to be able to sense my emotions when she’s spoken to me.” He explained tapping the side of his head, “but not necessarily what I’m thinking.”

Taking a drink, he looked down at the cup before shrugging a bit. “Knowledge is a powerful resource, as you well know, and because of that we know words have power. They can inspire us to great things and also humble us. Invoke our gods and condemn them. Knowing somethings name gives you a kind of power over it.”

Bryn looked at Fuego carefully. “Are you \*sure\* you don’t follow Oghma as well? And if you don’t, may I interest you in a god?”

She laughed.

“I kid, of course . . . well, mostly. I’m no missionary, which makes my task that much more . . . interesting.”

Fuego left out a loud belly shacking laugh. “I have enough voices in my head.” Taking another sip of his drink. “I suppose my, unique situation brings with it a ...” he paused thinking, “unusual sense of wisdom.”

He looked at Bryn. “You may not think yourself a missionary, but isn’t that just another word for messenger?”

“Maybe?”

“Well then see, your already making progress towards your goal.”

#### *In the Common Room*

Ruinfea walks back in and goes to the cupboard to find something stronger to drink.

“The Sal Paga is on the counter next to the tea kettle.” Fuego said noticing Ruinfea looking for something.

Thea follows her. Her mind rattling around in her skull. A stiff drink was in order.

She came up beside Ruinfea at the cupboard and drew up two glasses. "Shall we imbibe straight up or do you prefer something mixed?"

“I think mixed would be good!”

"Very well.. Bryn? Fuego? Would you care for something special? I'm not sure what yet. But it'll be something..." She starts rifling thought the cupboard looking for ingredients.

Bryn looked over at Thea and Ruinfea, then over to Fuego, then back at the two near the cupboards.

“Well, if we’re all drinking again, I think I’ve got one more charge left in this thing. Why not?” She gestured with her tankard.

Fuego looked to Thea and Ruinfea, “Sure, this ones just about empty.” He said lifting his cup before downing the gulp that was left.

(DM Note: other alcohol to be found:

Rence Beer:a beer steeped, boiled and fermented from crushed seeds and the whitish pith of the rence plant

Falarian wine: an extremely rare wine.

Kal-da: an alcoholic drink that is served scalding and made of diluted Ka-la-na wine, mixed with citrus juices and stinging spices.

Pulque: fermented using the heart or sap of agave plants forming a milky white, thick brew.)

Thea picks up the bottle of Pulque and glanced over at Ruinfea. "I think this will do nicely." She pours a healthy amount into a tumbler and proceeds to mix in a number of fruit juices creating a light pink concoction. (Ooc: drink inspiration is the Agave Negro... Flavors of blackberry and lime)

“Sounds like a good mix!”

Fuego gets up to make sure there are chairs for everyone. “Here we go, seats for everyone.” He walks over to their options and takes in a whiff of the scents in the air with the aroma coming from the Kal-da catching his attention. There is something about it that is comforting.

(ooc: this reminds me of mold wine)

“Thank you for the seat, Fuego!”Ruinfea sits in a comfy cushion seat.

“So, did the walk do some good as you’d hoped?”

Thea looks to Ruinfea then turns to Bryn. "The air in this place has the most wonderful scent, and the gardens are magnificent." She took a seat beside the gnome, placing a drink before her.

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll have to take a walk myself sometime. Good for clearing the head?”

“I would say so. Sometimes nature is the best thing for trying to get a perspective on things. Have a friend go with you can help to.” Ruinfea looks over at Thea with a nod and smile.

Fuego smiled at the sight of everyone gathered around, even though Rylan was off catching up with Kam, he smiled because this ragtag group of odd individuals had become a family and it filled him with a warmth that seemed familiar though he couldn’t place it. That or the spiced Kal-da was working its ‘magic’. Either way he knew he’d do anything to help them be it offering an ear to listen or some words of wisdom and encouragement.

His smile turned sad for just a moment. He wondered if he knew this kind of happiness in his first life. If he was being honest with himself he didn’t know if what he was currently living was a continuation of that or a second chance of sorts. Either way he hoped he was this happy, the thought of making a pact with a Patron for power must have been for a good reason, at least he hoped it was. Maybe he made the deal to help save his people or a loved one. Fuego quited his mind, he would get answers to all his questions in time and likely more he didn’t even know to ask. Right now was the time to be in the present with his family ... his clan.

Bryn spent a few minutes enjoying the company.

“Well, this has been pleasant, and I know we’ll talk more later on, but right now . . . right now I think I need to pray. This should be interesting, to say the least.”

Thea watched Bryn's small frame as she walked away. She couldn't help be feel that there was a lot weighing on her mind following their encounter with Oghma. Perhaps now that they had spoken to the god, Bryn could work toward new answers of her own. She turned back to the others.

"Hows that Kal-da?"

Fuego watched as Bryn made her way to the door. He hopped their chat helped and that she is able to find the answers she seeks.

Taking another sip, “It feels as if a memory of a warm hug in my chest.” He smiled warmly, “I like if. How are yours?” He asked leaning back in his chair.

She takes a sip of her mixed drink. It was slightly tart but sweet. "Delicious if I do say so myself." She grinned, not one to pat her own back.

“Well mine is definitely doing what it needs to.”

#### *Bryn at Prayer*

The sun had already set around the mountains that cradled around the valley that protected Gael Aethal. The tavern's garden had fallen rather quiet, though the town did seem to have a healthy night life beyond the low garden fence. While some street stalls appeared to be closing, while some appeared to just be starting their day. There was the call of salutations as residents greeted each other, and a few people were making their way to the front of the tavern, more than likely seeking out a meal on the lower levels. The Third Family would not be interrupted where they were, taking up the common room on the second floor.

Leaving the warm light of the tavern for the cool light of the gardens was not as harsh as one might think. Bioluminescence was the name of the game, which was hardly a surprise with so many mushrooms around. There was a warm wind coming from somewhere, but for the most part, the evening had the chill of a normal autumn night.

After spending the evening getting her thoughts off her chest to Feugo, and then enjoying a more . . . relaxed . . . time with Thea and Ruinfea, Bryn centers herself to, well, communicate with Oghma. She’s not sure if she can call it prayer or not.

“Lord Oghma, Binder of What is Known, Lord of Knowledge, the Wise God -

You know who this is, because a part of you is with me. You already know how I feel, but I should at least have the decency to say it directly:

I’m angry with you. Angry that you sent me on a mission with only the vaguest of instructions, didn’t answer when I asked for help or clarification, and then decided that, because I’d messed that first mission up to badly, I needed to make a pilgrimage as penance -  a new quest with even more vague instructions and infinitely more oversight.

But you are correct. In trying to hide my own faults I have only exacerbated them. My pride has led to conflict and dissension and perhaps even the death of one of our party.

I wonder, Lord Oghma, what it was you had thought of saying before sending us out into the ether?

In that regard, we were met by an enemy instead of an ally. Our party defeated him and we are now safe.

I may be angry, but I think it may be because I do not understand. I do not understand what you meantlol by knowledge being about the story. I do not understand how being right means I am also wrong.

I do not understand why, if I failed so badly, I am to be trusted with the undertaking you have given me.

I do not understand how I am to accomplish this, let alone start.

And because I do not understand, and because you have chosen me and given me purpose, I choose instead to trust that you - you who sees the threads of stories as I do not  - that you know what you are doing.

I have no new knowledge or song or information to offer, but  hope that my decisions and path in the future bring you happiness instead of disappointment.”

Bryn stopped. If she were being honest, she wasn’t sure which she dreaded more: a response like the one she’d so recently received, or the silence that had, it turned out, led her to making all the wrong choices.

There is a stretch of silence that goes on for a few heartbeats. For a moment, it appeared that Bryn's prayers might be met with more silence, the same as it had been for this many days and nights passed. A shift in the temperature of the wind, from welcome and warm to a slight bite of chill, might have been translated as answer enough, or perhaps just a poorly timed shift in the air, if it were not for the voice that came out of the darkness, from deeper in the garden, away from the road and the door to the tavern.

The voice was deep, and so low that it almost didn't register in the gnome's ears. It sounded like water rolling slowly over rocks, echoing off tall cave walls. "Those are all very good questions to be asking, Bryn," it said, drawing attention towards it.

It was almost impossible to make out the figure among the shadows of the garden. But there, settled in behind a tree positively covered with Rhodotus mushrooms, was the shape of a cloaked individual, the cloth tattered at the edges, moving and rolling slowly in the cool breeze. They were leaning on a branch, a precarious balance for them it would seem. "What kind of answer are you expected, I wonder?" they asked, not moving from their partial cover behind the tree and the mushrooms.

Bryn is slightly taken aback, not expecting this kind of response. She paused a moment before answering.

“I . . . I’m not sure, exactly. I thought all that was in my head.

At the risk of being disrespectful or discourteous, who are you, and how did you know what I was saying?”

"Oh, I apologize... that was terribly rude of me. Many times, the thoughts of others just float into my head. It can be hard to tell what is within and without. I will try to refrain. Offer some privacy? Yes?"

Bryn shrugs. “It’s not like what I said to Oghma I hadn’t already said aloud. It’s just . . . different when talking to your god.

But I can’t help but notice you only answered my last question. So now at the risk of being seen as impertinent, might I know your name? You already seem to know mine, and I \*know\* I didn’t mention that . . . But you already said you could read thoughts, didn’t you? I imagine my name wasn’t too difficult.”

Her voice trails off. She is not demanding, but after today she’s not in too trusting of a mood.

"Seine Nils is my name. And it is true. Many people wear their names on their sleeves. It is so much who they are. The name is so tied to the identity. I suppose that is why some people hold on to them so tightly to their hearts." They sighed leaning onto their  branch a bit. "And hearts I cannot read."

A pause. "But now, I wonder if my question could be answered in return? What answer were you looking for?" There was almost a.mirth in the tone, but it was so hard to tell

“Honestly? I don’t know. Things have been . . . complicated. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying. I suppose I was just hoping for \*something\*.”

"I cannot help to ask... you were praying to Oghma? You don't find his games to be a little... unfair? Perhaps obtuse?"

“Again, this isn’t anything I haven’t said out loud tonight, but yes. I must admit that recent events seems rather unfair. And yet perhaps they seem unfair because I do not have the knowledge to understand them.

So while I am admittedly angry, that feeling is subsiding. Oghma has given me much that I desired.”

"Really? Like what? What has Oghma given you that you so desire?"

“A kind of certainty. A purpose. And, in his own way, he has given me a kindness. I do not say more, but perhaps you have picked up on these things already.”

"Are you so sure that the credit does not belong to someone else?" And the figure gestured to Bryn's hand, where the mark that she often kept hidden was now pulsing with her heart rate. It was not the ache or the burn that she had felt in the past, but rather a signal, a beacon that was chanting out into the world around it. "Or at the very least, can we not admit that your life has not only been touched by one Lord of Knowledge?"

“I can agree with the last,” she said, uncertain about the change she felt.

"When who is to say you do not owe these thoughts to someone else?"

“And what certainty or purpose might that someone provide? My every experience with them and their . . . subjects? adherents? . . . has been pain and violence.”

"It seems you may already know who I may be referring to." If possible, the smile could be heard in the figure's voice. "And are you certain about that?  Did your company not recently take  in a small worm that so many of you seem dedicated to protecting?"

“I know to whom you are referring, but have learned the hard way that saying a name may draw the attention of the thing named.

As for our companion, if we might call him that, a final judgment on him has not been passed. I take it from the rest of party that there have been . . . incidences, shall we say, during his feeding.

Perhaps I should ask why I was chosen by two gods.”

"Maybe you were chosen by one, and stolen by another."

Bryn gives a tired laugh. “Of all the days for the gods to take an interest in me . . .

And how would I even begin to know which was which? You have been most kind in your treatment of me, but it seems you might be doing some recruiting of your own.

How did you know, by the way? Is it common knowledge or was it my thoughts or could you sense it or . . . ?

I hope you don’t think me rude, but if someone’s reading me like one of my books I’d like to know how they’re finding the story.”

"I know it may be hard to believe, but there are beings that talk about you, Bryn. This isn't some kind of recruitment, though it is an invitation. I know because Ilsensine knows. Every prayer you have uttered, he has heard because he has been watching you. You are not being rude. You are being inquisitive. And there is no harm in that. No is know harm in knowing, either, despite the way Oghma spins it. The Lord of Knowledge cannot stand the idea of anyone knowing more than him, so he makes sure to not dole it out so freely. Like this quest he is sending you on. Not even a crumb of a clue. 'The knowledge is in the journey.' Or, he could just speak what he knows. Why does he waste your mortal time on a quest, when he could already impart the knowledge to you, and things would already be on their way to a better tomorrow."

Bryn eyes the stranger. “I still know little of you, and you a great deal about me. I must say I there is a part of me that wants to know what others are saying about me. Some would call that pride, but for so long I have felt insignificant, unnoticed, unwanted . . . a problem to be fixed or solved. But you know that already, too. Those are likely the thoughts easiest to read, aren’t they?

But I must admit that while I may question Oghma’s methods, I cannot question his assessment of my attitude or my actions toward the members of my party.

I would not easily cast aside one I have served so long and . . . well, \*faithfully\* - or so I had come to believe.

And yet I am curious: what is this invitation you speak of?”

"Apologies, again. A parasocial relationship can be difficult to navigate, I know. And the invitation comes from the one who you bear the mark of. Ilsensine. Not for subservience or supplication, but for answers and power. Surely you can feel it? The end of the world. Or certainly, the end of this one. With your family the only ones truly aware and able to stop it. Why does Oghma choose now to play his games? It endangers you. And it is endangers your family. Ilsensine offered freedom from such games, and the power to keep doing what you are doing."

“And in exchange . . . what?”

"Why must everything come as a bargain? Is it so impossible to trust the gods?"

“Now I must offer my apologies. A short time ago I would have said no, it is not impossible. Recent events have left me skeptical.”

"Ilsensine does not want this world to die. He would like to be sure that his powers are being invested properly to ensure that."

“And yet, that does not exactly answer my question.

Your statement, though, intrigues me. How do you come to know so much of the Tentacled Lord’s actions and intentions?”

"I know because he speaks to me. He gives me power, and I choose to serve him. In my case, I am a messenger."

“Somehow I have the feeling you’ve done more than just deliver a message this evening.

And again, I have yet to receive a firm answer: what would the Great Brain require for this . . . blessing? If it is freely given, then say it. If there would be a reciprocity, then state it.”

It was impossible to tell how it could be seen. Maybe it was their body language, or maybe it was something in their voice. But the figure appeared to be smiling. "He wants you to go out into the world and collect knowledge. No stipulations or limits. He will give what is his to give, and you will give what is yours to, because that is how knowledge should work. And with that exchange, free flowing power is yours."

Bryn looked at the figure warily. Just because they seemed to be telling the truth didn’t mean she was going to make a hasty decision. After all, hadn’t Toby recognized the mark on her hand, indicating the god she was currently discussing with a stranger outside her window was involved in the Hollow Company’s plans? This seemed too easy.

“And for how long is this invitation open? Again, I would not lightly change my course. Surely you understand.”

"Of course. Hasty decisions are not in the nature of the wise. And the invitation is always open. Ilsensine has an open mind, as do his followers, who would be your allies, too. All you must do is call upon him, using the mark he has already given you. He has seen you for that long. He would not turn away from you now.."

Bryn nodded, flexing her hand involuntarily.

“You say he would not turn away, that he has always been with me. You ask why Oghma waits til now to ‘play his games’ as you put it. I might ask the same: why wait til now to reveal himself in such a fashion?

That is, of course, if you have such knowledge to share. You can read my thoughts; you know why I am both hesitant and critical of your offer. It simply seems too good.”

"Oghma can be very selfish at times, and doesn't like it when other gods take up all of the attention. And until now, he took up all of the space. Now, there is a place for Ilsensine to reach you. So, the first time you prayed and reached out, he was able to hear you, even if your prayers were not for him. And so, I am here. And why does it seem too good to be true? Because you are not being asked to suffer?"

“Because I am not being asked to do anything other than what I am already doing. Because it seems like he is offering something for nothing. Because while Oghma may be enigmatic, and though he is neutral, he is not necessarily evil. The Tentacled Lord does not enjoy such a reputation.

And yet, I have seen even those with good reputations make mistakes and commit atrocities. That is why I have heard you out, but it is also why I have hesitancy committing.”

"Sometimes the most destructive acts are committed by those that society names the most good. General Stormosin, for example. Or the Order of Oghma in Spriggan. Perhaps, it is not about good and evil when the world is at stake. Perhaps evil isn't even the right word. But rather 'free.'

But Ilsensine will not force you. You have the potential to do great things with him, but he would not want you so unwilling. Just know, you have a journey ahead of you, and your ties to Oghma have you weaker for it. There very well may come a day when you ask for his help, to at least lift his punishment from you, for one needed deed. And he will refuse, and it will make you fail. If that happens, I will be waiting. You only need call."

“I had not know the one we speak of to be so lenient in his terms. You have given me much to consider.”

"And do consider is to use your mind. Already, my master is pleased with this conversation. Anything that breeds thought."

Bryn smiled a bit.

“This wasn’t the answer to my prayer I was expecting, but at least it wasn’t silence. For now, though, I must bid you good night.”

"Good night, Bryn. If I may call you that?"

"Then should you wish to call on me, merely say my name and think your intent. I shall come."

“I will.”

And with that she withdraws into her room and waits to see if Oghma will rebut what he surely heard, given the space he now occupied in her head.

The figure remains in the garden and more melts and retreats into the shadow rather than walks away. The rest of the night, for Bryn, is quiet.

#### *Rylan & Aniel and Rylan & Sinanna in the Morning*

Even after a long rest, Rylan still felt exhausted. There was a needling at the back of his mind that he couldn't shake. Normally the only 'dreams' he had were nightmares, what with sleep being not quite what elves did. And drow or not he was still an elf. Moreover it was his old trauma that would flashback behind his eyelids and the last three nights he was back in Melee-Magthere. Echoes of his own screams rolling into an endless cacophony as so much white hair fell onto the basalt floor stained with so much red...

\*Oh, Princeling, we've only just begun...\*

He had made excuses when he left Kam and he was too caught up in his own past to feel the full weight of the guilt about it. A hasty exit under the guise of needing to check on the others; he'd barely taken the time to throw on one of his large tunics and boots over his breeches before needing to be out in the fresh air. And while the sun scorched his eyes without his sunglasses he didn't dare double back for them. There was a thorn embedded deep in his heart where things used to be so simple and for the life of him he couldn't understand why he was so upset.

\*You truly are ruined, aren't you? Such a pity...\*

A shudder coursed through his entire body as his hands subconsciously took stock of what weaponry he still had on him. Two daggers in each boot and his origami folded into a square in it’s hidden pocket; Gods, he had left his room with nothing. He was smarter than this, better than this. These were the mistakes Rylan was trained to exploit and if he was his mark it would be far too easy to overwhelm and kill him. Or worse, capture him.

And with that thought, he had to move. Slipping into the shadows to hide was second nature and the comfort of knowing he was hidden to all but the best helped. It was the sight of the celestial they'd picked up that gave him a distraction and Rylan slipped up beside him quiet as a whisper. "Morning Aniel. Sleep well?"

Aniel had gotten up some time ago, having resting in the manner that celestials do; which is to say, he had spent much of the time sitting up and reading to himself quietly in the common area. Truthfully, he had disappeared into the common room that Sinanna had set aside for him, and had every intention of exploring the town, but when he turned to leave after changing out of his armor, there had been quite a gathering of the Third Family in the common room. The mood seemed one that was better to not interrupt, and so he had turned to the books in the room provided to him.

When morning came, he rose to greet it, though he did take the book with him, as he was certain that he would still need to keep himself occupied as he waited for the members of the Third Family to rise. He had found a bench to perch in one of the gardens outback, one that was filled with various rich fungi and moss, under the shade of a particularly large amanita.

If he heard Rylan approach before he spoke, he didn't give any indication of it. When the other man greeted him, quietly and out of the shadows, Aniel shoulders seemed to roll with the sound. For a moment, it almost was as if he hair stood on end, but when he turned his head to look around his hair at the elf, he had nothing but a smile on his face and a glint in his eye. There was an amused purr in his voice when he replied, "Good morning, Rylan. As much as a celestial can sleep, yes." He gently closed the book and turned his attention towards Rylan.

Aniel was dressed in a dark, yukata-like robe that tied around his waist, but was relaxed enough to show of the silvery  scar that ran along his collar bone. More noticeably, though, were the thin silk bandages that ran along his hands, starting at the fingertips, and wrapping up and up until this disappeared completely under the sleeves of his robe. They hugged him close, almost like a second skin. "And what about you? Did you sleep well? And how did you know you would be the first person I would want to see this morning?"

A critical eye took note of the bandages and scar but he kept silent about it. For all he knew it was a delicate subject. Instead he took in the man’s odd style of dress curiously before rolling his eyes at the knowledge that \*yet another\* man near him didn’t sleep. Why that particular fact clanged around in his head was anyone’s guess but Rylan tried to not let his thoughts return to their room. “You too? Of course you don’t.” He tried to keep his voice light and easy despite how wretched he was feeling and the cloying mess that his emotions were.

“Same as I always do.” The half-truth, fae-stepped would have made his goddess proud and he flashed wry smile albeit with a slight squint. “Oh? And what did I manage to do wrong now?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them and Rylan immediately ran a hand through his tangled mane of  curls. “...sorry. That wasn’t fair to you. I’m just...” he paused, rubbing the right side of his neck, pressing down to work out the tension there as well as through his mind. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

He was stumbling again, a common occurrence for him but Rylan shoved all of his thoughts deep down where the nightmares still lingered. Aniel was the exact kind of attractive that usually distracted him but he couldn’t process thoughts like that after last night. His eyes were hollowed pits but he could always blame it on the sun. “...why did you come with us? It couldn’t have just been Eilistraee...” While he held a higher opinion of his aunt than most of the Underdark he couldn’t rationalize someone just randomly joining a bunch of strangers on a quest. Then again, that was sort of how The Third Family started out back in Little Grove.

If there was any hurt or annoyance on Aniel's face he did not show it. In fact, he took and listened to every word with a patient look. There was still a little twinkle in his eye as he cast a look over at Rylan. "You have done absolutely nothing wrong. Would it be such a crime if I wanted to check in with you?" His smile was a small one, but it reached his eyes, mixed with a touch of intrigue about the dark elf in front of him.

He placed his book down, on the other side of the bench so that there was plenty of room for Rylan to sit. He gestured to the place beside him, one arm stretched along the back of the bench to make sure there were comfortable enough room for the two of them, a quiet invitation to not only perch next to him but to get himself into the shade under the amanita.

"You don't have to apologize to me. You will find that my hide is quite thick." The more he spoke, it was clear that there was a slight Welsh-like accent to his voice. Though it was slight, it gave a musical lift to the ends of his sentences. "And I wanted to check in. Be sure that I knew what the plan was and how I can be of best service. We met under rather... dire circumstances." He looked down at one of his hands, long bandaged fingers, the ends of them curling a bit with the memory of what happened on the road and the journey to Eilistraee. "Though I will admit, it was a very dramatic introduction."

Aniel seemed to consider the question for a moment. "Celestials are some times... called to a cause. It's almost like a bell inside of us that guides us on a path. At least, there has always been this little bell inside of me. Maybe I am just an odd specimen, but..." He turned his lavender eyes to meet with Rylan's  azure. "Besides, is it so hard to believe that there are people out there who just want to help?"

Rylan’s brow furrowed at the idea of yet someone else checking in on him. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful, but there was just something that rankled him about it all. And what was worse, he couldn’t put his finger on why it bugged him. “...no” he quietly acquiesced. He tried to match the celestial’s smile but it was fleeting and a touch wilted at the corners but he did gratefully accept the offer to sit, making sure he was in enough shade to let his poor eyes recover.

“To be fair, I shouldn’t lash out at someone and you don’t deserve to bear the brunt of misplaced frustration. Thick hide or not.” He tried to relax, tried to shake off the phantoms of his nightmare and the confusion of the night before. He wasn’t sure how successful he was at it but it was a start at least. “I’m still reeling that this place exists to be honest. The stories of its destruction seem to be \*vastly\* overstated.” There it was. The carefree lilt his voice defaulted to. Now that he found it again, the habit of falling into ‘fine’ was easy enough to fake.

“To be frank, I’m not entirely sure what the current plan was. After all, I’m apparently leading us all down a path riddled with my own stupidity in a place I didn’t know wasn’t a crater based on assumptions that following Occam’s razor \*should\* be two horses but apparently is Bryn’s zebra.”

Well, fuck. Rylan didn’t mean to let that particular ache show and the words flowed out of him before he could properly parse them together. The need for damage control rose. “What I mean to say is that my assumptions have been proven unwise, despite the consequences, and one of my own so \*kindly\* pointed out that I’m not the one that should be making plans. As for the circumstances, that was barely a scuffle for us. Full disclosure.”

The idea of being divinely called was new for Rylan. In truth, despite being a paladin he still wasn’t sure what it meant to be guided be the divine. Just another thing he was wretched at. “Honestly, sometimes.”

Aniel cast his gaze out towards Gael Aethal, just over the garden fence. The night shops were closing up,and the day shops had already been open for some time. A few people were meandering here and there, some of them merely replacing the staff for the establishments that were open on a more 24 hour basis. "Yes... this town is the a place protected by Eilistraee, both from the fury of the mountain, and Lolth's eyes. I do not believe there is a single spider here." There seemed to be a sort of wistfulness in his voice when he spoke about the place, with a delicate smile different from the others he had shown Rylan.

"They often refer to it as a great hope for the Night Elves."

Aniel did not directly bring up the aching words that Rylan spoke, or at least not their tone. Just as he did not mention the scar and bandages, he was not about to poke where the other man might be hurting.  He did file it away, though. No sense in rubbing lemon juice in an open wound, but there was also little sense in forgetting the wound was there. "Seems to me the members of this party look to you as a leader. That doesn't come without a certain amount of trust for your plans and schemes. It has gotten everyone this far, after all... a trip to a plane few mortals have gone, and appearing in a miracle of a city...

"Plans over breakfast when the other wake up? I may not sleep, but I do like to eat. And I didn't eat last night, so I am still famished over that... 'scuffle.'" He used the word that Rylan used without a little bit of an impressed tone. "I wonder if you will even need a little angel like me if that is the example you are setting. Azathiel is no small beast to contend with, no matter how much of Corellon Larethian's lap dog he has become..."

He laid his head back, that arm on the back of the bench not touching Rylan, but still wrapped around the back of him. When he leaned forward it made the space around them closer. His opposite hand he rested on his own thigh, though it was closer to Rylan's own, so that the top of his bandaged fingers and hand almost touch the outside of Rylan's. "Well, believe that there is one angel here at least for goodness sake."

Now that he wasn’t blinded, Rylan turned his gaze to take in the city that welcomed them in their hour of need. There was a soft almost childlike wonder on his face as he leaned forward to take in every detail. Seeing his people be like \*this\* was his wildest dream and the promise he had made Shantris to one day bring. He smiled softly, completely taken by the possibility that made he wasn’t the stupid dreamer so many had chided him for being. That it could be real. But it was Aniel’s words that startled him and he quizzically turned to the man beside him. “Night Elves?” The term was foreign, confusing and despite himself he let the confusion show regardless of how he would be judged for it.

And he was back towards this discussion again. He frowned at the similar words Kam had said to him hours before. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to be a leader or was any way resentful of it. It was more the continual proof from both his past with people best forgotten and his current from people whose opinions of him he held so dear that he was inferior. And it was seeing their faces in his mind, proud smiles looking down their noses that stole all capability of speech. Instead he offered only a nod, really not wanting to get into it again.

“I was going to make breakfast before I noticed you here. I just didn’t know where I’d be allowed to cook.” It was the only way he could properly show people he cared for them; and even now through the hurt he was musing of ways to make something even a vampiric metabolism could benefit from. “Whatever you won’t or can’t eat, tell me now.” It was a gentle order and one of the only ones he felt sure enough to give, most likely the domestication expected of him an old creature comfort.

Rylan didn’t completely notice how close they were until he turned his attention back to the angel beside him. And for the first few words Rylan’s mind completely blanked and he struggled for context clues. “I... Um. The help is appreciated.”

He sat and watched Rylan take in the city before them. Aniel had a love for this place and the people here. They were the people of his Lady, and while he had been welcomed here before, he had only ever seen it through the eyes of its residents. Wanderers and adventurers occasionally found their way here, but it was clear that it was more than just a mere attraction or even wonder to Rylan. This place meant something even more, and it was hard to not feel a warm in the heart for it. How could a Celestial of the Night not recognize a dreamer. "Yes, Night Elves. A name almost forgotten, but it is the name that Dark Elves had before the Crown Wars. The people here embraced it after discovering again. It is a name that Corellon would just as soon have be forgotten, because it ties the Dark Elves to their actions in the wars as defenders of the lesser tribes. But the people here remember now."

"As for breakfast, Sinanna is kind, and will share her kitchen with anyone who wants to cook in there. She is one of the head clerics here, but couldn't bear the idea that she couldn't still provide for people, so she never moved into the temple. And as for me..."

When Rylan turned his attention back toward Aniel, the angel didn't move away, but let the chance movement of theirs keep them close to each other. His eyes left Rylan's for a moment, traced down to Rylan's lips, before tracing back up to meet his eyes. "I could eat just about anything."

Night Elf. Before the Great Betrayal, before the Crown Wars, before so much senseless death and suffering they were Night Elves? The words \*felt\* true; his gift from Titania told him as such. And while Rylan was a proud Drow, proud of who he was and his people it was nice to have some of what Correllon stole from him. He’d hold this new gift of identity close, grateful to have something given back to him. It helped soothe the pain of the past.

Sinanna was a wonder and Rylan smiled a touch brighter as the thought of all the different recipes and options danced through his gourmand mind.

It was the look the angel gave and the undeniable flirtation that had Rylan freeze like a deer in headlights. With his pulse pounding loud in his ears, he awkwardly smiled as his hand returned to rub at the back of his neck. “I should... get to breakfast...” The purple blush that stained his cheeks was all the more apparent in the sunlight and he sprung onto his feet before glancing around and realizing he didn’t have the slightest idea where Sinanna’s kitchen even was. “...and umm... her home would be... where exactly?”

Titania spare him today was just destined to try his composure.

Aniel grinned a bit lazily at the reaction from Rylan, not shying away from the elf's awkward reaction. If anything, he seemed to like the smile and the blush that came across Rylan's features as he danced up off the bench. He got up, grabbing the book in one smooth motion as he did so. He turned so that he was face Rylan for a moment, walking a few paces backwards as he spoke. "Sinanna lives here in the tavern, in the room just off the kitchen. She likes to keep it simple. Let me show you. Besides," he said, turning around and walking a few paces for some dramatic emphasis before he turned to look over his shoulder, a bit coy, locks of his long dark hair falling over his shoulders. "This means I can show you something I think you will want to see."

And with that, he started walking back into the tavern, making sure that he was in a position where Rylan could see exactly where he was going…

The prospect of cooking was a balm to his ragged soul. Already he had a few ideas he wanted to test out, though he’d have to get out his kit to test a hypothesis first.

And as Rylan began to lose himself in the hows of his newest gourmand experimentation, he slid his hand along the right side seam of his breeches before finding the small pocket that hid behind his knee. Pulling out the three small parchments of an odd dry herb mixes, he let the packets dance along his fingers before he turned back into the conversation. “What a dream... to be able to have a tavern and a simple life.” His thoughts immediately turned to the dream he and Thea had of their own tavern and his heart ached at the possibility of never happening. Tomorrow’s problem.

“Wait, show me what?” He queried, before grabbing the first empty tankard he could see. His eyes wandered over to a bottle of Pulque and he poured a few ounces before emptying the entire contents of one of the packets. He threw back the drink first, emptied the second packet into his palm before pushing the collar of his shirt aside to reveal an insignificant cut on his chest. Rubbing the mixture into the open wound, he finished the ritualistic necessity with the third packet that after being poured onto the back of his hand was delicately as possible inhaled. As soon as his finished his morning ritual, the poisons burned through his system. It wasn’t a lot by it’s very nature, barely would effect anyone without being continued long term but the sustained exposure kept him immune to all those he knew of.

Blue eyes were lost in a wave of black as his pupils dilated, the usual fuzziness quieting what raucous nerves were left and he brought his hand up to check on the permanent pale blue half moons at the base of his fingernails. Satisfied, he realized his folly immediately. He was too distracted to think to slip away to handle this time sensitive ritual and he hoped the angel wouldn’t make him regret it. “I nearly forgot...”

Aniel paused in his steps as Rylan paused to take care of his daily ritual. He watched with growing interest as Rylan tended to the various poisons that he supplied to himself. While he was taking note of the hows and whats of the actions, he did so without an ounce of judgement on his face, and with patience as Rylan did it. When the elf turned to look back at him, he would find nothing negative on his features, but a kind of understanding. He may not be an expert on poisons or herbs, but he did know what it looked like when someone was maintaining an immunity to them. With a calm shrug, he commented "Better the devil you know."

With a smile he moved on, making his way through the quiet dining hall, and into the kitchen. When he opened the door, the smells of the morning meals being prepared proceeded anything else, gently wafting through the swinging door. Aniel help the door open for Rylan to allow him to enter the room, though he did call in, "Sinanna, your recent company wanted to visit with the chef."

Inside the kitchen, it was warm from the oven. From the looks of it, bread was in the final stages of being prepared, as well as a decent amount of has being prepared in a pot over the stove. Several cast iron pans were atop the burners, warming up and preparing for whatever orders might come their way. A pot of cold oat and fruit porridge sat on the counter near piles of produce and morning meats. Sinanna herself appeared from the back room, carrying a crate of eggs. Perched upon her shoulder was a squat little creature, round and soft looking, that flopped off of her the moment she was within hopping distance and onto the counter. The creature quickly set to work on checking the produce, and taking care of any pests that may have tried to move  in on it.

Sinanna stopped her movements and immediately smiled at Rylan and Aniel as they entered. "Oh, welcome dear! We didn't have much chance to talk last night! What can I do for you?"

And Devil it was. But Rylan didn’t have long to muse on his habits once he took in the kitchen. The same bright smile that was so easy last night came back with a rush as his eyes greedily took in the cast iron with only a slight bit of envy. But it was the stout little critter that caught his focus and Rylan let out a small coo of delight. “Oh what a sweetheart you are!” He crouched low to take a look at the little one with both hands gently perched at the edge of the counter so they would be eye to eye with one another.

He looked up at Sinanna with a crooked grin, eyes bright from poison and delight. “I hope I’m not in the way; I was going to make breakfast for us. I’ve got a cream scone with lavender and cardamom syrup I wanted to try with what venison I was able to salt. And I wanted to try and test a theory for Kam’s dietary restrictions.” It was as he could put it without compromising the trust his friend put in him.

It was then when he noticed the armful of eggs she had and without a second thought Rylan gently took the crate from her arms before perching it on his left hip to balance with one arm.

“Unless you want my help elsewhere?”

The tiny creature's mouth engulfed a fly that had landed on some strawberries, and sucked it right up, before noticing Rylan's face looking at him. They seemed to smile, and then waddle over in a way that is not unlike a puppy with a full milk belly. They rested their head down on the table so that they mimicking Rylan (at least as best as their anatomy could.) "Without any sort of spiders, nature needed to find a way to create balance again. They are some kind of mushroom dragon? But everyone just calls them mushes."

Sinanna seemed to perk up at the mention of all the recipes. She listened with a fascinated smile that danced into her eyes. She was grateful when Rylan took the eggs from her, and placed her hands in the pockets of her apron. "Oh no, with ideas like that, you can help me in here. You," she said, turning and pointing a hand at Aniel, "can be the one to help in the yard today. Unloading the supply carts as they come in? Fetching supplies as we need them?" She raised her eyebrow, indicating that it was his only choice. That, or get out.

"You leave me no choice but to toil with the manual labor. That, I can manage," he said, with a slightly boyish grin.

"God, you can start with the rest of the eggs. Now, dear. Rylan you want to be called? Tell me all about this cream scone?"

Aniel peeked over Sinanna's back with a wink in Rylan's direction, before he slid out the back door to get to work on helping with the unloaded.

Mushes. He still barely processed there weren’t spiders here, truthfully until he saw this wee one his arachnophobia still had his eyes casting an unconscious vigil.

It felt so good to be back in a kitchen working with his hands in a way that no one had ever tainted with something bad. He looked up in time to catch the wink and once more Rylan blanched before blushing furiously. Chalking it up to the angel just being that way, he turned his attention back to Sinanna. “It’s made with heavy cream and makes about eight wedges? It’s beyond easy to make and I have starter to cut down on the time...” he paused, face flushing once more clear to the tips of his ears remembering his prized possession was back with Brioche and Kam. “It’s back in our room with all my supplies but I can work with what’s here.”

With a soft pat on the sweet mush’s head, he scanned the kitchen critically before pulling a few bowls and ingredients towards him, talking all the while as practiced hands gathered up supplies as second nature. He barely paused, his estimates for what he required second nature.

“Rylan’s fine. Thank you.” He could feel a ringing in the back of his mind rather than hearing it. The part of him forever connected to Titania letting him know what those two words meant.

Once he finished up the scones his eyes caught on some fruit and he carefully selected a few before he looked up at Sinanna and made sure it was only the two of them in earshot.

“Kam... doesn’t eat normal food. And I have an idea of how I can help him but it’s going to be... messy.” The next few minutes were an explanation of his idea, hoping that he was placing his trust in someone that wouldn’t betray them both.

Sinanna watched as Rylan worked on the scones, and got to her own work. As she moved around the kitchen, she explained out loud the mushroom toast that she was preparing, and the two exchanged their recipes with each other. She knew her way around, and that included when Rylan was working on his own prep and cooking. There was an ease to their movements that came from years of experience, but also an easy trust. Occasionally, she would toss the end of a scrap to the mush, who would eat it enthusiastically. It was also to pick up on the fact that she had named the little creature "Bandit."

As Rylan explained the recipe, Sinanna paused in her work, listening carefully. Once he finished detailing it out, she nodded, saying that she did keep some of the ingredients he would need in an enchanted cold box just in the pantry. She used it herself for puddings and pies fairly often. "If you need extra hands, you have them. Prep is all done. Normally I would be taking this time getting back to the carts, but that's all handled today. Now I just need to wait for people to order," she said, pointing to the window that opened into the dining hall.

Rylan followed her lead, happily feeding the little Bandit and softly smiling to himself knowing that Bri most likely had already found her way onto Kam somehow for cuddles and to be some warmth. A sweet tug pulled at that spot of his heart where that metaphysical thorn was and he hoped his ward would keep his dearest person company.

When she didn’t balk Rylan murmured the most heartfelt thanks in Sylvan, grabbing two pairs of matching bowls and parsing out both matching recipes with two of the bowls distinctly enough for a single serving.

He moved with precision, his knife skills artisan precise. Almond flour and honey. Simple syrup and boba. A smear of flour streaking across his forehead. He paused to pull his long hair back in a high ponytail, rewashing his hands and diving back into baby sitting the melting sugar.

This was all he could do to show he cared. To say without words how much they all meant to him. It was something so small, so silly, but it was all he had of himself that wasn’t ruined and he wanted to share it with those he loved.

#### *Breakfast*

We met again at breakfast, which had been prepped in the common roomby Rylan, Sinanna, and Aniel. Joining them was a mushroom dragon, commonly called “mushes”, named Bandit. Bandit was fat and round and happy, waddling like a milk-fed puppy.

“You must eat a good breakfast,” Sinanna told us. “After all, it is the most important meal of the day, and no doubt you will need your strength.”

Kam had not yet come down.

Rylan looked to be a mess: no armor, hair in a ponytail, and covered in flour. A mess, but a very pleased mess. He carried a tray with one hand while balancing a basket filled with wax-paper packages on his hip with the other. Setting down the tray, he passed out two packages to each of us.

“Don’t eat these know,”  he warned us. “Remember the treats I made you before? These are like them. Only eat them when you need them. You’ve got blood orange macarons and some pomegranate crystal candy.” He set two aside. “These are for Kam especially; I doubt the rest of you would like them.”

“Save them for a second breakfast, then” Sinanna suggested.

“A battle breakfast,” Ruinfea stated with a grin.

“As for regular breakfast,” Rylan continued, “we’ve cream scones, meat, eggs . . .”

Ruinfea had noticed the mushroom dragon. “Rylan, what is that critter?”

“Well, there are no spiders here, because its being kept safe from my mother, so there needed to be some kind of natural predator to keep the pests at bay. This is a mushroom dragon, and his name is Bandit. Watch your meals, because nothing is safe around him!”

“Oh, I’ll give him some anyway!” Ruinfea exclaimed happily, immediately offering Bandit some meat from her plate.

“Don’t do that; he’s eaten already!” Rylan protested.

“Too late,” Ruinfea laughed.

Fuego, sitting next to Ruinfea, offered pats and scritches. Bandit burbled.

“We need to have one of these!” Ruinfea exclaimed. “And because I know what you’re all thinking, I have reasons, too.”

“We’d love to hear them,” Fuego said with genuine curiosity.

“Yes, do tell us more,” Loray said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Well, think about it – we’d have something to get rid of spiders. It’d be a security system!”

“Well, it would certainly be a tactical decision,” Rylan admitted.

“See; I told you I wasn’t crazy.”

“Well, you can’t have Bandit,” Sinanna declared.

“Oh not, not him,” Ruinfea assured her. “Just a mushie.”

The went into mom-mode. “Oh, and are you going to feed it, walk it, and care for it?”

“I’ve taken care of Chewie; and you’re the one who voluntarily took over our worm,” Ruinfea pointed out.

“Hey, Ruinfea,” Fuego began, “Now that you’ve seen this, couldn’t you actually be Bandit? Or at least something that look like him?”

“There are over twenty species of mushroom dragon,” Rylan said, looking carefully at Ruinfea.

“I must see them all!”

“Many can be seen in the gardens,” Sinanna informed her.

“After breakfast, we go ‘mushroom hunting’,” Rylan assured a giddy Ruinfea.

Fuego yawed. “I rested, but I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back out last night,” Rylan apologized.

“That’s all right,” Fuego said. “I hope you and Kam were able to catch up?”

Rylan blushed at the mention of Kam. Seeing this, Ruinfea let out an “EEP” of happiness.

“Well, it has been a week,” Thea pointed out.

“Yep,” Fuego agreed.

“And we ended up here, in this place,” Rylan finished. “Talk about a fucking trip.”

“You mean the distinct lack of a crater?” The asked “Yeah, that’s something.”

“I wonder where my brother could be?” Ruinfea wondered.

“You want to look for him today?” Tea asked.

“Sinanna, have you seen Ruinfea’s brother?”

“Well, not by that name,” she pointed out.

“Oh, right,” Ruinfea said before clarifying. “He’s a high elf that answers to the name of Lindor Galanodel.”

“Now that is a name I have heard, but not in some time. He spent several days here in research, then went up to one of the Northern Towers. That must have been . . . oh, several years ago now.”

“Years? Oh . . . crap.” Ruinfea muttered.

“Well, that’s a start at least,” Rylan said. “Did he happen to leave a way to get in touch with him?”

“No, but I did keep his things. He left most everything behind and took only his ritual supplies.”

“Speaking of rituals, Tiago is still holding that door for us . . .” Rylan pointed out.

“Do you want me to message him, let him know we’re at least back on this plane?” I asked

“If you would?”

Using sending, I sent this message “Found our way back to the material plane. Taking refuge with unexpected friends. Will return as soon as possible.”

“Just to let you know, it may be several hours before you hear a response,” Sinanna told me. “Time works . . . differently here.”

“Yes, I’ve been wondering about that myself,” Fuego said, curiosity tinging his voice.

“Well, think of us as a time bubble. Time passes here, but differently than outside. People live and age and raise families. Leaving the bubble puts you back at the moment you left the outside world. At least, that’s what I understand it to be.”

“Very interesting. Then I suppose we ought to take in the sights while we’re here,” Feugo replied.

“The mountain my brother went to, is it located in this same space . . . time?” Ruinfea asked.

“It is, but it is on the borders where things are more . . . flexible and the bubble fluctuates. It is wise to be careful.”

“We can go after breakfast,” Rylan said.

can at least find him, or what happened to him,” Ruinfea agreed.

“I wonder if he holed himself up? I’m no wizard.”

“Well, from watching our friend Tiago it seems like they like books and meditation,” Fuego pointed out.

“Was your brother a bookworm?” Rylan wondered.

“I don’t know. He was still so young when I left.”

“Do you know if he was more wizard or sorcerer”” Sinanna tried to clarify. “Did he spend more time studying, or did he seem to have more . . . natural talent?”

“Again, it’s hard to say. I just don’t know.”

“Maybe we can get a clue based on the things he left behind,” Rylan suggested. Maybe there’s notes or a journal or . . . something.”

“So it’s settled then. We finish breakfast, then go to the gardens, then head to the mountains to look for my brother Lindor.”

Thea look at me. “Did your walk clear your head?” she asked me.

“You know, I never actually made it on my walk.”

“Oh? Did you meet a tall, dark stranger?” Loray asked with a chuckle.

“Well . . .” I began “It’s not so much that I met him, but rather that he found me.”

“Oh, do tell me more.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up . . .” Thea said, concerned.

“Oh no, it’s all right. I was going to tell you anyway, but the time just didn’t seem right.”

“No time like the present!’ Ruinfea called cheerily.

“Well, to put it bluntly, I was visited by a messenger from . . . the other god . . .last night.”

“The other god?”

“The other god.” I pointed to my clenched left fist.

“Oh. . .”

“The long and short of it is, he wants to offer me a deal. Well, a kind-of deal. He says I can stop playing “Oghma’s silly games” as he puts it, and just . . . continue doing what I’m doing. Of course, I declined, but apparently the offer is . . . open ended.”

Aniel spoke first. “It’s not so much that he’s evil. Not all gods are impossible to be friendly. But Ilsisine is known for making deals for power, but they come at a great cost.”

“I had to press him on that. He kept being evasive but then said there was no catch. Which, of course, I was immediately suspicious of.”

“I must say you have great testicular fortitude saying his name out loud,” Rylan said to Aniel. “Paladin I may be, but I would never . . .”

Rylan looked faint and Thea began fanning him. It was partly for show, and Rylan ate it all up.

Then Rylan turned to me. “Between Torm and Titania, I urge you to be exceptionally careful. We need to keep our enemies low.”

“At least countable on one hand,” Loray said with a small chuckle.

“You’ve got to always be on your guard. Sometimes you might be making a deal you don’t even know your making, or the deal you make isn’t what you thought it was. Remember, Bryn, when we talked to the Summer Knights? Well one of them told me a story of a girl who made a deal with some Fey: a truth and a wish in exchange for a kiss on the lips. But it wasn’t the lips she was thinking of . . .”

“You mean . . . the downstairs lips?” Thea asked with a slight blush.

“Yes, Thea – downstairs.” Rylan clarified.

“You know, maybe if he’d offered that I’d have taken him up on his offer,” I said with a grin. Of course, I didn’t mean it.

Even Rylan turned a shade of red and began choking on his breakfast. “I’m . . . I’m going to check on Kam.”

“I’m sorry!” I called out as he mounted the stairs.

“You’ll give me a stroke!” he retorted.

“Bryn, you shouldn’t have done that,” Ruinfea told me.

“It was a joke!” I protested. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

“We all remember the book of magical ogre sex,” Thea said.

“And the implication that a sea lord would engage in nonconsensual pegging,” Fuego reminded me.

“And there’s probably something in there we’ve forgotten, too.” Ruinfea finished.

“Look it didn’t happen, and even if it did, I wouldn’t take the deal.” I declared. “I already told you I didn’t.”

Changing the subject, Aniel asked about everyone else’s evening.

Apparently not much had happened after I went to pray. Ruinfea and Thea and Fuego talked for a bit, then went to bed. Or rested, as the case might be.

At Aniel’s request, Thea went upstairs to get the others.

#### *Upstairs*

Rylan met with Kam and Brioche. Recounting the conversation that drove him upstairs, Kam covered Brioche’s ears.

“Small ears!” he chided.

Rylan then gave him over his treats.

“I appreciate the thought and effort, but you know I can’t eat these – I’ll throw them up,” he told him as Rylan began to change back into his armor.

“Well, about that . . . I asked god, and I don’t think you will. It took me about three hours to figure out, but now that I know how to do it . . .”

“But if these make me sick, it won’t be pretty.”

“If you throw up I will buy you new shoes.”

Thea knocked on the door. “The conversation is over!” she called to Rylan.

“Just getting my armor on!”

“Need help?”

“If he needs anything in any way, I’ve got him covered,” Kam called back.

“’kay . . .” Thea’s ears went red again and she quickly descended the stairs.

#### *Downstairs*

we gathered around a footlocker Sainanna had brought out. Rylan opened it and began pulling out shoes and robes. They were fancier than what we were wearing, but not the opulence we’d seen on Lord and Lady Galanodel in Lymdell. There were a few books on early necromantic practices. As Rylan set the robes aside, an amulet fell out: six sided, black, obviously rather crudely hand-carved, bearing the image of a crowned skull. It was Valsharoon, a god of necromancy

“Well, at least it’s not my god,” Kam said.

“Well, Valsharoon is a lich, but you know . . .” Rylan replied.

“A god of Faerun?” Loray asked.

“Yes, and one with ties to Mystra if my memory serves.”

“The walls are thinner than we feared.”

“I’m wonder about his relationship with the Night Singer,” Rylan said. His words meant nothing to me.

“Well, Ruinfea,” he continued. “What do you want to do?”

“Run in circles screaming.”

“Well it looks like we’re going to the mountain, then,” Thea observed reluctantly.

“No. Garden first, then mountain,” Ruinfea was fixated.

“Of course; you can always use more shapes – and that’s okay,” Fuego assured her.

“Lindor might have this amulet because Valsharoon is friends with the goddess Sha, and she has a relationship with Loth’s son Vhaeraun. When it comes to my family tree, it’s more of a family pole,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Look, just track him however you can,” Ruinfea said.

“I think I can track him by using my uncle . . .”

“Would that cause a problem? I don’t want to cause any unpleasantness . . .”

“Look, we met my only good relation yesterday.”

Kam looked uneasy.

“My uncle is very . . . pro-male Drow. He also happens to be a god of assassins and trickery. He’s never directly hurt me, to the best of my knowledge. We think a lot alike, though we may differ in out methods. And while I don’t want to excuse his evil, it is at least understandable why he did what he did. After what his mother did to him . . . Anyway, the point is, if I poke at him, I might find his followers. And his followers may lead us to your brother.”

“Whatever works.”

“There are some followers here,” Sinanna told us. “I do not know who they are, exactly, as it is none of my business. But they are here.”

“We’ll just look for a certain . . . aesthetic,” Rylan said. And then he launched into a short history of what he called the Night Elves and the Crown Wars. This was stuff he’d tried to tell me earlier, but I didn’t take to heart. This time, I did. I wanted to talk to him, to see if amends might be made. But now was not the time. He needed Kam, I could tell.

We went outside to the gardens, where we spent some time helping Ruinfea look for various types of mushroom dragons. We found six species in total: trompette de la mort, champignon noir, hydne herisson, morille, pied blue, and russule doree.

Rylan let down Brioche to stretch her legs; she sniffed about and soon found a hydne herisson to playfully chase. Thea fed a few of her tiny tarts to the grateful creatures, and Ruinfea was simply beside herself with delight. Like Brioche, she seemed to favor the hydne herisson and picked one up for Loray’s approval, which he gave wholeheartedly.

Soon though, Rylan and Kam went off to search for a guide into the mountains, leaving Brioche in our charge. Using their . . . senses, they found one Jevan Yauthlo who agreed to be our guide.

“But not for too far,” he warned them. “I don’t want to go too near the border. I’ll help you get there, drop you off, and leave. The way up is tricky, and it’s easy to pass markers in the twists and turns, but I won’t stay there a second longer than I have to.”

“No explanation necessary,” Rylan told him.

They rejoined us, and it was time to leave the garden.

Ruinfea tearfully said goobye to all the mushes, but in particular the one she’d been holding and had nicknamed “Rummy.”

“Why don’t you use your animal handling to help calm him down and convince him to hang out near the inn?” Rylan suggested. “Maybe he’ll make friends with Bandit.”

### **The Mountains and the Tower**

#### *Attack and Ambush*

We followed Jevan for three hours, the air thinning as we climbed higher. And then, we rounded a bend and saw a structure rising high on a plain. It looked like a bony finger stretched into the sky; the mountains surrounding the plain were now beneath us.

“A necromancer’s workshop,” Jevan told us. “And be careful; people will go mad if they spend too much time in there. I wouldn’t worry about a short stay, and even I myself made it out intact . . . well, mostly. But if your brother has been in there for years . . . well, there’s just no telling.”

“I kinda hope we don’t find him, then.” Ruinfea said quietly as she leaned on Loray. “Even if he is alive, he may not remember me.”

“I doubt he would forget you,” Loray assured her. “He might forget many things, his own name perhaps – but never you.”

We approached and entered the castle, finding ourselves in an entryway filled with dust. Fill, that is, except for one well-work path between the main entrance and another door directly in front of us.

The dust . . . didn’t seem like dust.

bone meal, in a cremains sort of way

Too late for Fuego, who tried to examine it by sniffing and ended up snorting a handful of the stuff.

Rylan checked for traps, and must have found one, since he concentrated on the door for a moment before announcing

“Acid fog. Shouldn’t hurt us anymore.”

He opened the door and we all stepped into the next chamber, which was far larger than the one previous. Many tables spread out before us, and the room was flanked by a staircase on each side. Between the staircases, at our level, a greenish haze floated above a low vat, changing form from fire to water to mist before cycling back through.

It was a nexus to the Abyss. Not a formal path, this was a tear or rend forced through the planes as one would knock a hole in a wall using magic and might.

“That’s an abyssal tear!” Kam shouted. “It needs to be shut down now, but I can’t do it.”

“You do that,” Rylan called to us, “and I’ll start looking for Lindor.”

Fuego attempted to dispel the magic keeping the rend open, and it slowly started to close.

Examining the left-hand side of the room, Rylan observed a figure hidden in the shadows on the staircase, muttering to itself soundlessly.

Fuego’s spell fizzled out. “It was working . . .” he said, confused.

“And now it’s not?” Aniel asked.

“No . . . and it means we can’t be alone.”

We noticed Rylan dropping darkness on the stairs, and a pained, raspy voice shouted “No!” – but the sound came from the throat of someone that had not spoken in quite some time. Rylan lunged toward to voice and attempted to grapple the source.

Thea picked up where Fuego had left off, and this time the rift closed faster than any counterspell could stop it.

Rylan bound his target with nature’s wrath, securing him with conjured vines. Checking for other combatants, he pointed up.

A horseman floated in the air above the abyssal fracture.

Kam manifested an echo and sent an eldritch blast toward the creature.

“I was trying to send it back!” the figure on the staircase called out.

“We’ve got you covered!” Rylan replied.

Fuego went to his old standby, fireball.

The horseman rode down towards Fuego, and suddenly there were three of them – briefly – as two of them winked out of sight. The remaining rider shot a magic missile at Fuego and hit him squarely, knocking the breath out of him and dealing what I assumed to be a significant amount of damage.

I cast a blade barrier around us, and sent a healing word to Fuego to help him recover.

Thea tried polymorph, but the thing just laughed.

“Damn you weird thing of evil!” Ruinfea called.

Aniel sprang into the air, managing to land on the thing’s back, landing a direct hit with his blade embellished with smite.

Loray threw his scimitars, but they both missed – flying wide.

Ruinfea’s guiding bolt went straight through the thing’s head and out the other side, sticking and stopping inches from Aniel.

The creature disappeared, and Aniel managed to land safely on the floor as one of the invisible things winked into existence.

Rylan kicked one of Loray’s scimitars back to him before targeting the next fiend with a sneak-attack smite.

Kam moved his echo into a better position, strengthening it before firing off another eldritch blast, taking it out completely.

The man on the stars tried to run away, firing his own magic missile at the last remaining floating horseman, but in his haste, he missed.

The thing laughed again, but the laugh was cut short by another one of Feugo’s fireballs hitting him solidly.

The horseman seemed focused on the man on the stairs, and he reached out a finger towards him. Rylan and Kam recognized the gesture as the hand gesture for “finger of death,” and Kam was able to counter the spell successfully.

The word “perish” rumbled through my brain, but nothing happened.

“I think the fuck not,” Kam said in Abyssal.

The creature now cast a poison cloud at us and directed yet another finger of death at the man.

Thea, using her wits and ingenuity, used a dimension door to draw the man to safety.

It was indeed Ruinfea’s brother, Lindor

I cast a successful flame strike on the fiend and then used word of healing on Lindor.

Aniel now opened his wings fully and cast smite.

Loray threw his scimitar.

Ruinfea shot an arrow at the thing, grazing its arm, and then protected Lindor from the poison; while the rest of us took damage, it wasn’t yet serious. He, though, was close to death.

Rylan dashed across the room unnoticed by the horseman and used his crossbow to fire a round through the thing’s eye. It faded to nothing, and as it did so, the poisonous cloud dissipated.

I cast “mass healing word” to help counteract some of the poisonous damage.

It was now that Thea and I felt movement around and above us and portals began opening. A ripple opened up and flooded out into the world. Something had shifted or changed. The doors now fully opened, and seventeen dark elves in dark armor entered the room around and behind us.

Rylan stated at them in shock and perhaps recognition.

Kam summoned a greater demon of Cambion, but gave it no command.

Despite our lack of hostility, the Drow soldiers had no hesitation about firing into us, dealing all of us massive damage and bringing us to our knees.

Behind Rylan, a voice spoke.

“Rylantar, I had hoped I would find you in the middle of all this.”

Rylan dropped his hands, and as he did so, his weapons. He turned to face us with absolute fear and terror.

The man stepped up and stabbed Rylan, placing him in a grapple as he did so. Rylan did not resist.

And then, as quickly has he had come, he disappeared along with Rylan in a misty step.

The last thing I saw before he was gone completely was Rylan shedding a single tear.

We held our actions against the remaining drow.

Thea healed up Lindor some more, and Ruinfea fell to the floor with a scream and a wail.

Kam ordered his Cambion to “burn them all” and targeted the Drow immediately behind me.

Kam himself manifested another echo and summoned a magical blade, again targeting the Drow immediately behind me.

“Take him prisoner!” Loray called in a rallying cry.

Thea cast “sleep” and he was out like a light.

I cast beacon of hope, unsure of what the Drow might do next.

Kam slashed and used the Cambion’s fire ray to take out one of the Drow.

Brioche, who had been helping Thea aid Ruinfea’s brother, unleashed the full power of her fire breath and incinerated another.

The Drow, acting as a unit, disengaged and in a wave of organized movement disappeared. The rumble of energy we’d been feeling now suddenly focused, stabilized, and faded into nothing.

Kam stomped angrily up to the Cambion and gave it a command in Abyssal. The Cambion disappeared.

“We need to tie him up,” Thea declared.

“Agreed,” said Fuego, taking the initiative to hog tie our prisoner. It was a good thing he’d been observing Rylan’s methods.

We were left alone in the chamber, and Rylan was gone.

Aniel picked up Rylan’s discarded weapons and bracer.

Thea walked over to check on Ruinfea, who was still in shock on the floor.

“Who was that?” Fuego asked, directing his question at Kam.

Kam went up to the Drow and kicked him in the ribs. “That was the First Blade.”

My blood ran cold. The First Blade was one that Castguard had been trying to contact when he betrayed us.

The Drow smirked.

Kam clawed him, drawing blood from his jaw but failing to wipe the smirk off his face.

“We need to take time to interrogate this man and help Ruinfea’s brother,” Loray observed.

“Where can we go? Are we safe here?” Thea asked.

“As long as I don’t continue any of my experiments,” Lindor replied. “This is my home, and you can rest here. Who are you, anyway?”

“The Third Family,” Fuego said tersely.

“How can we be safe if those . . . that evil was able come in and take Rylan?” Thea demanded.

“They got in because of the hole created by the Rift Lich,” he sighed. “Didn’t you feel it?”

“Where could they have gone?” she continued questioning.

“Not far; they only used misty step, after all.”

“We could always see if I can find them,” I suggested.

“Is it wise to go after them now?” Aniel asked. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t most of you already use most of your spells taking out the lich, and then take significant damage from the D It’s not that I don’t want to rescue Rylan; it’s that we need to be smart about this.”

“No, it’s not wise,” agreed Kam. “Besides, just wait until his mother hears about this.”

Fuego sighed reluctantly. “You’re right, Aniel”

“No, we really shouldn’t get his mother involved,” Aniel protested.

“Too late,” Kam said.

“She’ll never let him leave the underdark again,” Aniel continued, oblivious to Kam’s words. “She’s already concerned enough about him, but to know he was captured? Even if we manage to get him back, she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her only heir and chance of a successor.”

“Why is it too late?” I asked, somewhat certain of the answer I would get in reply.

“Because I sent the Cambion to tell her. I’d rather have him alive than a corpse, and we can always reason with his mother – we can talk her down and out of this.”

“Well, we should at least get a general idea of where they’re headed,” I said. And so doing, I cast “locate object” on Rylan’s thieves’ tools. Well, Jii’s tools that Rylan used. I sensed them heading at a fast clip in  a westerly direction.

Kam was more direct, successfully charming the Drow prisoner into thinking he was his best friend.

“Where are they going?”

“Why, back to camp of course.”

“And where is that?”

“Don’t you know? 1/3 of a mile west of here. You know – we’re there to reinforce . . . all this.”

Kam looked to us. “Anything you guys want to ask?

“How long will they stay there?” Fuego wanted to know.

“We won’t move from there for some time. We want to be in a strong position for when the fall of the house of Baenrae is complete.”

“What are the next moves?”

“The First Blade got lucky today, didn’t he? We were only here to reinforce the insurrectionists, and now we’re a full step closer to taking down G’Eldare once and for all.”

“How did he know Rylan would be here?” I asked.

“He didn’t. Like I said – it’s his lucky day.”

“Do we need him anymore?” Fuego asked aloud to all of us in general.

When we didn’t answer, Kam picked the man up and tore out his throat. He didn’t even protest as the life drained from him.

And so, in hurt and shock and disbelief, we began to make our plans.

#### *Rylan in the Camp of the First Blade*

Rylan felt a poison running through his system.

Sorcerers surrounded him and his captors, repeatedly casting expeditious retreat on a significant number of them to get them away from us as quickly as possible.

Rylan did not try to escape, even when the First Blade handed him over to a group of men on a cart.

“Oh cousin,” Rylan finally said, “No matter how much of my blood you spill it will always be worth more than yours.”

“Get him on his knees and bring the muzzle,” the First Blade said with contempt and disdain.

“Do you remember, Rylantar, our many sessions together over the course of thirty years? There was so much to dispel you of, so much . . . pride and arrogance and . . .” his voice trailed off as if listing Rylan’s many faults would weary him.

“Sanctimonious shit,” Rylan said as the muzzle was secured on his head.

“Dump all his belongings. Let his friends find them in a crate somewhere.”

Taken on to the camp, Rylan found himself secured in an outside cage. They were treating him like a wild animal.

“I have been out of practice,” he said maliciously. I look forward to continuing our education in a short while.”

The last thing he remembered was the crack of his rib as one of the students of Melee-Magthere landed a vicious uppercut to his side and his boot catching just above his temple. There was a familiarity to the weightless static of unconsciousness; a place all to often visited in his younger years. And while he was divorced from the brutality he had already endured, the throb along every joint was still a thready heartbeat keeping time in this timeless place.

\*Neurotoxin...\*

The word was important yet it slipped through his fingers too quickly to register the weight of why he shouldn't forget. He could feel his chest wheeze although he couldn't fully understand the reason why. His eyelids too heavy to fully take in the bright place his mind had faeried him off to. The grass beneath his ruined cheek was soft, the scent fresh compared to the copper scented mud they had created in the training yard. He was aware of being watched, of a presence that he knew better than his own name.

"Apologies, My Lady, but I don't think I'll be able to bow at the moment..." his words were rough, slurred from whatever coated the blade that was rending it's way unchecked through his system. If he was to die this time, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad? He was not alone here in his mind, with it's nightmares as plentiful as it's dreams. He could smell honey, jasmine, amaranth, clove and dahlia... and he tried for focus his fevered mind into a single train of thought.

"𝑅𝓎𝓁𝒶𝓃..." She spoke his name in the sheltered glen. No one would come to harm here. This place was in the pockets of her mind, a place between things that  she had dominion over. She had felt her Summer Knight the moment he had stepped into the circle of mushrooms that he had been pulled into. She doubted that they would have done anything like that if they had known what it meant. If they truly knew anything about him. Their folly, her joy.

Her bare feet walked softly across the moss, coming into his view, curtained by the swirl of her long, green skirts. The soft breeze that accompanied the motion carried the scent of camellia and carnations in their wake, along with the soft sounds of her feet falls on the ground.

Between blinks, and she was on the ground with him, her own cheek pressed into the grass, her golden hair haloing her kind face. One hand reached up to him, gently touching his other cheek, already being warmed by the sun. A smile played at the edge of her features. She was, after all, so rarely seen without it, no matter what the occasion. "𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓌..." she said, her voice melodic and reassuring. "𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎. 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓁𝓁."

Her words floated calmly in the air. This was not the end, they seemed to say. His Lady had not come for his Final Sleep. But he could stay here. Take away some of their games. They should have thought twice before bringing one of her own into a faerie circle.

He tried as hard as he could to look at his Lady, but he just couldn't. And trying to take stock of why he couldn't immediately met with a mental wall. Protecting himself from itself, Rylan nearly wept at the sound of his name. His name, not Rylantar or Princeling or whatever they had snarled and spit at him. And despite it all he couldn't blame them, they were children led into Hell by the monster that no matter how hard he tried he could never outrun.

He tried to warn them, even shot down those stupid owls and it didn't matter in the end. No one could run forever...

Instead of trying to clear his vision instead he simply closed his eyes and leaned into his Goddess. This simple act of laying with him, comforting him, this hand on his cheek was more kindness than he could ever remember and the thought had silent tears streaking through the dirt and blood on his face. "Manners maketh man, My Lady. Olloth will never let me live it down if I didn't at least try."

His hoarse voice tore as he spoke and he took a few moments peace of simply laying here on the ground beside His Queen before he tried again. "Surely you have better things to do than babysit a broken drow?" Rylan swallowed hard, a barely there smile that still pulled a little too painfully.

His thoughts were a little easier to grab at the longer he laid beside her, snippets of conversation, flashes of important faces and the knowledge that he couldn't stay here forever. He had people he needed to get back to. People who needed him. And he had things he had to say before it was too late.

Titania allowed her Summer Knight to lay in the silence and moment as long as he needed to, though her heart was breaking that it was even such a requirement. "𝒪𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝒾𝒻 𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓂." There was a hint of laughter in her tone, the slight twinkle of silver bells. They lay together, in the spring and in the sun, while his physical voice took the time it needed to find itself. Her hand continued to linger, soothing against his cheek, not caring about the blood or the dirt. Not right now, at least. She caught every single one of his tears in her hand and kept them there, water for future seeds.

The longer they lay, the more the buds of newly sprung flowers began to creep through the soil. Small little sprigs grew, crawling through the soil beneath him. "𝐻𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝓎. 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝐼 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎𝓈𝒾𝓉," indicating the little  flowers. "𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 \*𝒷𝓊𝒹\* 𝒾𝓃." She giggled again at her own joke, and she let him come back to himself. That was good. It was good that he wanted to go back, and that he had important business.

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒. 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊."

The scent of flowers in his nose helped distract him from everything he knew he would return to back at the camp. Even though it was muted there were still some pains he couldn't completely ignore as much as he tried. This beautiful place was just another dream and just as tenuous. He would wake up, eventually. But for now did it really matter if he gave into a pretty dream when the truth was so terrible?

"No. Thank you, My Lady, but no." He wasn't trying to be difficult, but Rylan couldn't bear the thought of anyone else getting caught up in his mess. "Besides, I was already informed to not lose hope since the cavalry is coming." He coughed weakly, wincing, as his mind turned to those he knew were coming. "I can't stay here much longer or \*he'll\* know. They need him to get careless. Make a mistake.  My Lady, send me back? Please?"

Those two words. Thank. You. She brushed them aside as easily as she did his tears. "𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓂𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉." Her word were clear and definite. It was also hard to not see the slight pout at the end of her lips when he denied reinforcements. It was what the Knights were for, after all, to aid their siblings in arms when they were in the most need. Perhaps Rylan did not consider this moment one of the "most" need, then. It was the only rationale that she could come up with, but it also wouldn't be the first time she did not understand the thinking of mortals, no matter how long lived some of them may be. There was a reassurance that the "cavalry" was coming, and with it, she could sense the place in his heart that he had for them.

She wanted to deny him. She wanted to keep him here. She wanted to protect the joy in him, He was a Dreamer, after all. She did not want them to dim. Then again, he had been a Dreamer for a long time, even through all else he had been through. He did not seem like one that would let for of that so easily. That was why she picked him. But she had to try at least once. "𝒪𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊."

"That's why I need to go. Iimeth ruins everything he touches. I would know. I don't want this place to be one of them. If he thinks for a moment I found a way to escape, he'll destroy it just to hurt me." There was a time he loved Iimeth; they had been cousins but he had thought of him like a brother. It was the first of many heartbreaks he would be the cause of and Rylan refused to give him any leave for more.

"There is far too much I have to still do, I'll be alright." It was true, it would be foolish to lie to a fae let alone his Goddess. And perhaps saying it out loud now was a way to will it into being. "If you want to protect me, My Lady, then protect my heart? Don't let Iimeth get his hands on him? \*Please\*..."

He tried to get up, to move, to get her to understand how important it was that this be the prayer she answered. "I don't want to lose him again." Despite the recent realization, Rylan still couldn't will himself to say anything more than what he already had. It was too much to risk, too much to hope for. Too much to believe it was anymore than this place. Just another beautiful dream.

The smile on her face could be felt even through his blurred vision. She took his wish, his \*heart's wish,\* and kept it close to her own. "𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓂." Her next words resonated with all the power of the Feywilde, words that fae did not hand out so easily. "𝐼 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒." Light flitted upon the words like the wings of so many butterflies, dancing on the shimmers of light coming from behind her hair. And there, in the light of her realm, her promise would be held. He did not need to move or prove what was in his heart. She already knew.

What she needed to do next pained her. She needed to let him wake up. That was what made the tears fall; that she could not hold the Dreamers forever. She nodded to him, her hand slowly drifting away from his cheek. The hand drifted to his shoulder, where she gently pressed him, the same way one would try to gently rouse someone from sleep. "𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅, 𝑅𝓎𝓁𝒶𝓃..." His name, the first and last thing she would say to him in this Dream of theirs.

All he could do was nod at her words, her promise, and Rylan sunk back into the moss absolutely exhausted. It was enough, it would have to be enough. The promise that he wasn't alone and his family, his actual family, was coming. The promise that Queen Titania gave without guile or gift. Blinking past the poison induced fever, he reached his hand out to wipe her tears off her cheek the same way she had caught his before. His heart ached at the sight of anyone crying over him and even now he wouldn't stand for it. Not that he would be doing much standing in the near future. "...thank you..." a soft whisper as she roused him from the safety of his slumber.

\*Wake up, Rylan.\*

The words were different out in the here and now and immediately his stomach pitched and knotted as he tried to reorient himself. The soft moss he had been laying upon was long since gone along with the warmth of the all too bright sun. He was back in the darkness, back with the mud and the scorching fever and blistering pain. At some point someone had dragged him from where he had blacked out in the yard and his head lolled to the side as he took stock of where he was now. But all he knew now was the pain as he hung from the cuffs that bound his wrists together.

They were coming... they were coming. All he had to do was survive until then. No matter what he just needed to survive. There would be no more escape into unconsciousness, no more hiding with his goddess. He had to hold tight to as much of his own mind as he could until they found him. He just prayed there would be enough of him left when they finally got there...

#### *The Necromancer’s Tower*

##### *Fuego & Ruinfea*

Ruinfea cannot speak. She is blaming herself for this and is angry cause her true brother just got taken just for this little ass brother she’s not even close to.

Ruinfea agrees entirely with Kam for this. His life is more important.

“Who the fuck is this guy?”

Ruinfea says through tear filled eyes.

Fuego takes a breath and looks down to Ruifea and kneel's. "Someone called the first blade." He takes her hand gently. "We will get him back."

“It’s my fault we came here. If we hadn’t this could have been avoided.”

"It's not your fault, and you know Rylan would be the first to tell you that."

"This was in no way your fault. This man... this First Blade... I think he may have been planning to do something like this anyway. It may have been inevitable. We don't know."

Fuego paced back and forth for a few moments on his way to check on Ruinfea. He was furious and filled with an anger that felt foreign yet at the same time familiar. He didn’t like the idea of letting Rylan’s capture getting more of a lead on them, but Ariel was right. We’d be no good in what was likely going to be a fight for their lives. He exhaled an long stress filled breath before poking his head in the room Ruinfea had holdup in.

“Do you need anything?” He asked knowing she was far from ok, as all of them where less then ‘ok’.

“I don’t even know,” she answered with tear filled eyes, “I still feel like this is all my fault. If we hadn’t been looking for my brother the dark elves wouldn’t have seen Rylan. He’s more of a brother than Lindir is. I’m just at a loss and I have to get it together to be able to get him back. I can’t lose Rylan. I can’t lose someone else...”

Fuego instinctively wrapped an arm around Ruinfea as she cried holding her. He left her cry as long as she needed. “I know you do, but there’s no way anyone of us could have seen that was gonna happen.” He said softly holding back his own tears.

“If Lindir is a fraction of the person you are, I’m sure he’s beating himself up too.” Fuego dug into a pouch for a cloth handing it to Ruinfea, while still holding her. “We found your brother, talk to him. Remember he’s probably in just as much shock as you are because he thought you were dead.”

“If he even realizes it’s me. I just don’t have the mental stability right now to talk to him. I can’t help anyone right now.  I feel completely helpless.” She takes the cloth from Fuego and leans her head on his shoulder continuing to cry. “How are we going to save Rylan when he surrounded. We’ve gotta save him and deal with his mother.”

Fuego couldn’t get the image of Rylan dropping his weapons out of his head. “He probably saved us by doing that.” He said, not ignoring her other remarks.

“Ruinfea you are far more capable then you give yourself credit. I’ve seen you trample enemies as some kind of wrecking ball creature and even blind people as a Chamaeleon.” He said leaning his head on hers.

“I have a idea or two that might help, but I won’t know for sure till I have a chat with Kam. Right now he’s our best resource of information on how the Drow do things.” He left out a slight sigh, “As for Rylan’s Mother, maybe our collective standings as Lordships will help.” He left out a light laugh, “Maybe if one of us weds her it’ll keep him out of trouble?”

Ruinfea chuckles a little. “I’m pretty sure his mom won’t be happy until he  gives her grandchildren. I just think that’s not what Rylan wants at all. I mean I’d gladly do anything to help his life, and his mom likes me, but I’d never want to make Rylan be forced into a relationship he wouldn’t want. I just hope Rylan’s ok. I’m so worried about him and I could see in Kam’s eyes that he is devastated. I think that hurts too because they were just able to reunite and then this. It’s too much hurt.”

“We have to find him!” With that the exhaustion of everything hits Ruinfea. And as her heads rests on Fuego’s shoulder she starts to drift off.

Fuego just sat there in silence as Ruinfea drifts off lost in thought. He gently lays her down and whisper softly, “We will, Even if that means I have to go through hell again.” With that Fuego left Ruinfea to rest. He needed to talk to Kam.

##### *Ruinfea & Loray*

Ruinfea woke from her rest realizing she must have fallen asleep on Fuego. It embarrassed her a little, but hoped it didn’t make Fuego feel weird. He was already going through so much. She needed to talk to someone and she decided it was time she had a chat with Loray. If they were going into battle soon to save Rylan she needed to talk with him. She got up and checked her hair and washed her face. Man she was disheveled and her eyes were red and puffy. What a sight she must be. Hopefully she could get through this conversation without crying and looking like a fool in front of Loray.

She heads out of the room in search of where Loray could be.

When everyone had started to settle in for a rest, Loray had gotten to work setting up a temporary camp. He would need to get a touch of rest, just like everyone else, if he was going to be helpful, but he at the very least could get to work on settling everyone else in. There was a distance in his eyes as he worked, though, like his mind was far away from him as his body went through the mechanical motions of setting up a fire. He considered bringing out his tent for the night, but he thought better against it. They would need to move quick, and the act of taking the tent down might prove to cost minutes they didn't have. So, a fire is what he did.

When he was finished, he went looking for Ruinfea, but by the time he returned to where she was, he could see she was in conversation with Fuego. After a few moments of watching them, lingering to be sure that they wouldn't need some kind of help, he watched as Fuego gently laid Ruinfea down, sleeping, her cheek tear-stained. For a moment he fussed. Would she need a blanket? Maybe a more comfortable place to sleep? He knew himself well enough to know where this fussing was coming from. He felt helpless. Actions made him feel less so... But he didn't want to make anyone anxious by the pacing around the site. So, he returned to the fire, and perched.

Once outside she noticed a fire and there beside it was Loray. Well I guess now was the time. “Hey Loray,” she said as she sat down next to Loray.

Loray had been lost in thought, his eyes occasionally wandering the form of Lindr, curled quietly up in the corner near the inner doorway. He could barely see the boy, tucked away and far from everyone. It seemed like he wanted to be forgotten, or at least out of the way, so Loray was reluctant to bother him. Besides, he should probably not be the first to talk to him.

When he heard her approach, Loray's eyes went up to meet Ruinfea's. He tried for a smile, though it did not completely reach his eyes. He stood and moved to the side, giving her enough room to join him. His hat and coat were off him, draped over the stairs nearby, and his scimitars lay atop them, un-glamoured. "Well, good morning," he said. "Were you looking for me?" He said it in a way that normally may have been a playful tone, but it admittedly fell a touch flat. Still, he didn't falter away from her.

Ruinfea tried to smile back but happiness seemed to seep out of her and off somewhere else. “I must have been so exhausted, I fell asleep on Fuego and he must have let me rest. When I woke up I realized I needed to talk and I wanted to talk to you.” She realized, once again, that this didn’t seem to be the right time to deal with any of this. Oh well.

"You needed the rest, and it was good that you took it. We will need to be at our best." The more he spoke, the more that little light of happiness reached his eyes. He may not be able to completely give himself over to it, but he could not help it. It was just leaving the spring of his seasons. There was that lingering feeling to cling to joy and happiness when it came. Though, this meant he was passing into summer. Perhaps that fiery temperament would serve them well soon. "And why not? I hear I am excellent company."

Ruinfea chuckled a little. “The rest helped me to get a grip a bit. I don’t know what I would do if we can’t get Rylan back. I’ve lost too much already and I can’t lose someone else I love.” She looked up at the stars for a moment and caught her breath. She was not going to cry. “I never got a chance to thank you for helping me. You didn’t have to do that.”

She blushed a little as she looked up at Loray.

She felt bad feeling any emotion besides sadness with Rylan missing.

He watched Ruinfea as she cast her eyes up at the stars. Night had fallen quickly after the Drow ambush. In less than an hour the entire terrain had been covered in a blanket of darkness. Normally, this view would be entirely romantic, if not looming in the face of an atrocity. Still, he could not help to trace the lines of Ruinfea's features as the starlight danced upon them. He could see her sadness there, at the concern for the man who had become her friend... her brother. His own thoughts went to his own sister, worried for her safety for her part in all of this. Rylan was his friend, and meant much to him, but this pain was so raw and plain on her face. Maybe that was why he liked her so much... there was no hiding with her. She was always honest and sincere in her emotions, even when they were raw and painful. And that was beautiful.

She caught him watching her when her eyes turned to look at him, and his own gaze locked with hers. He held it for a moment before her words caught him. "You don't owe me anything," he said with the wave of his hand, brushing away the gratitude like it was second nature. "But... what help are you thanking me for?"

“When we were fighting the one who’s name I will never say again. I learned my lesson. Never read things aloud. I was in shock of what I had done and you grabbed my hand and got me away from this gaze.” Wow, she felt guilty again. That was her fault too. Why couldn’t she just be brave like the others and smart like them too.

Her bad thoughts dissipated as she looked back at Loray. She hadn’t felt any of these feelings since Kava and that scared her. What if they went into battle to get Rylan and something happened to Loray too. The fire continued to crackle as she sat there thinking and knowing that her face would reflect the fear she had inside, but hoping he wouldn’t notice.

"Ruinfea," he said, her name's melodic sound emphasized by the roll of his lilt. "One of the high tenants of my people is to protect joy where it springs." He took her hand, gently cupping it with one of his, before covering it with the other. A smile hinted at the corner of his lips, but there was a deep sincerity in his tone. The fire reflecting orange off his skin. "And you, lady, are joy incarnate."

Blushing once again, Ruinfea could feel Loray’s hands on hers and there was a warmth there that made her heart skip a beat. Loray’s smile made her forget for a second about Rylan missing, but only for a second. Joy incarnate was definitely not something she would ever imagine someone thinking of her. “Thank you for thinking that of me even if I don’t. It has been difficult to have any joy honestly. I’ve been struggling to find joy. The third family has been a source of joy for me. I met you and there was a small spark that I hadn’t felt...for a while.” She thought of Kava  and her scales shining in the sunlight. It was interesting that now looking at Loray in the moonlight was just as magical.

"These dark times, yes... It can be difficult to find joy. And yet you do, sometimes in the smallest of places," he said. With his words, he brought the hand that he was cradling up to his cheek. He held in the gentle way that one might hold a bird, cupped and secure, before he placed a gentle kiss upon the top of her hand. He brought the hand back down, still holding it, but placing it upon her lap, cradled upon her. "And that spark can take as long as it needs to grow."

When he kissed her hand, she just about melted. “Thank you for being patient with me. The last time I fell for someone I lost her. I just want you to know that I do care about you, and I want to continue this journey with you.”

She looked down at the leather bag around her neck. “I also wanted to let you know that...just in case something happens when we go to get Rylan. I don’t want regrets. Not again.” She got her bag and reached inside and pulled out a small wooden token in the shape of a chameleon. “I want you to have this. It’s not magical and won’t give you any powers, but it’s special to me. It’s a remembrance of the first wild shape I ever used. You see, I chose the chameleon because it’s easy to hide. I use the chameleon wild shape to hide my emotions and to hide from the world. I didn’t start using it until...until after I lost Kava.” A small tear falls down her cheek. “It was a way to keep my pain under wraps. I don’t feel that as much anymore, and I want you to have the symbol of that because when I’m with you I don’t feel like hiding.”

The expression that crossed over Loray's could only be explained as appreciation. It was bittersweet that this moment could be brought to them. He listened to her words as she spoke, her story about what the little token meant to her and what is stood for. He wrapped a hand around the token, cradled in his palm and closed it into a soft fist, and brought it to his chest. He did not know who Kava was, but from how she spoke it was clear that they were someone who meant a lot to her. Holding the token near to his heart, he let her words sink into her. "No. And you will never need to. I promise, Ruinfea, you will never need to hide with me. And I will cherish this, and its meaning, always." And the weight of a promise from the fae was not light. With then hand not wrapped around the token, he brought one thumb across her skin to wipe away the tear that had fallen there, his hand lingering against her cheek. "I wish I had something that I could give you... Unless you are in the market for a scimitar."

She smiles at this. “I already have a scimitar and I have a feeling you will need both of your in the times to come.” She put her hand up and covered the hand lingering against her cheek. She wanted to remember this moment and everything. The way the fire crackled and reflected in Loray’s hair and the glimmer in his eyes that was different than the normal flirty glimmer he usually gave. “You’ve already given me so much that you will never realize. Remembering moments like this is all I need. Of course you’ve also given me a promise and I know how special that is from you.” She looked up into his eyes again. “Loray, may I kiss you on the cheek?”

His answer was simple, short, and sweet. "Yes."

Ruinfea leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. It was a quick kiss. She then laid her head on his shoulder while still holding the hand that had been on her cheek. She closed her eyes, not to sleep, but to remember everything. The stars, the sky, the fire, and of course Loray. “I know we are going to have to meet with everyone and figure out how we are going to save Rylan, but for right now can I just sit here with you, like this?”

Though the kiss was brief, Loray leaned into it, allowing the lingering moment wash over him. It returned just a little bit of the spring back to his heart. When she leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, wishing that that was all it would take to reassure her. His eyes watched the flames with her. Outside he was calm, but inside he was on fire. There were so many things in this world that had caused her pain, and would continue to cause her pain. It's why he couldn't promise that he could keep her safe from it all. But what he could do was help when those moments came, and it steeled his resolve even more. "Yes, Ruinfea. We can have the moment." he said, his voice low. And after tonight, after they saved her brother and his friend, there would be chances for more.

##### *Kam & Fuego*

Fuego’s heart ached knowing how hard Ruinfea was taking Rylans capture. He hopped he didn’t muck things up. Thinking about how things happened so fast and the fact that he froze just made him mad.  He couldn’t help but think ‘some warlock he turned out to be’. They needed to come up with some kind of plan, his mind was filled with fragments of possible ideas but he need some additional information.

Kam was the best source of info since he grew up with Rylan, for a time at least. And in light of how Kam dispatched that Drow, he knew there was another conversation to be had.

“We need to talk.” He did his best to say more mater of factory then an order or command. He could tell their newest companion was hurting, though looking at him now his body language didn’t give anything away, but Kam’s immediate response to Rylan’s capture was rather apparent.

Whilst his body remained cold, void empty on the outside,  Kam's mind was on fire. One of the first traits he was able to master was remaining calm on the outside. The lessons he'd been taught were in patience,  no longer letting anyone read his outward emotions.   Through all of this,  Rylans caputer all of that went out the window.

Now that this was all said and over for the time being it was best he regain control. Having already fed,  the calm void returned. Kam continued to go over scenarios within his head. Preparing for the worst, in multiple fashioms.

Kam could only arc a clipped brow in response to the tone of the approaching dragon born "That entirely depends on the topic of conversation. "

Fuego nodded and leaned against the wall, being sure to give Kam space. He felt ashamed for not acting when Rylan was captured, he let out short exhale before speaking.

“We need to know everything about how the Drow take prisoners, especially how they are held and where within their encampments.” Fuego popped off the wall and took a few steps as he continued.

“I’m fairly certain I can speak for everyone, with the exception of you, that we all feel responsible because we froze and did nothing to stop it.” He stopped to lean on a chair gripping it tight with his claws.

"I'm not from the surface, but that doesn't make me a Drow. " He paused for a moment, "All of that information is circumstantial. I, while I was held, I wasn't held for the same purpose as most drow Slaves. I can't say to any of that beyond what the one we captured already said." He wasn't going to say anything beyond this. There was nothing he was going to share about his time that was any kind of important information to this. "If I knew, then there wouldn't have been any point in asking some of those questions to him."

"If it was your first time in a situation like that, its a resonable response. Nothing to be ashamed of. Shock, is a valid emotion. Freezing is too. "

Fuego eased his grip on the chair leaving marks on the chair back. Hearing Kam’s words eased some of the frustration he felt. He could feel his bones pop slightly as he relaxed his hands. He turned to face Kam, not fully looking him in the eyes but definitely at him.

“I meant no disrespect, Kam. I just ... I know you and Rylan have a history of some kind, and that he’s just as important to you as he is to the rest of us.” He looked as if he was looking past Kam. “I have parts of a plan, but I just don’t know if they’ll work.”

Kam's demeanor continued to remain that stone cold facade. Yeild was not longer within him, It hadn't been in the past 60 years. Though he did feel a kinship with the frustration rolling off the Dragonborn in waves. "Our history, is not my place alone to tell. If it would be relevant, i'd share but sadly it just isn't. I wasn't in the underdark long but it was long enough to know the First blade isn't going to immedantly kill him. "

He inclined his head for a moment inquisitively, "What parts do you have, I may be able to fill in the rest. "

“You recall during the fight when Thea used a dimensional door to bring Ruinfea’s brother over to us. I don’t know if she’ll have it in her to do it again, but I think I could do the same thing by opening an Arcane Gate.”

He thought for a second, “But to give Rylan the best odds of getting through it we’d need a destruction and I think Ruinfea would be able to help by wild shaping into that strange creature with a wrecking ball for a tail.”

He looked back towards Kam, “But we gonna need cover and back up just in case.”

"I... I dont know" He didn't know the finer details of that spell, it was well above his level of ability. Hell, for all he knew it could cause a different sort of problems. "I'm not entirely sure that's a grand idea, gates, tend to work both ways. Its not like Dimension Door, whats to stop them from just following us through. I'm not so sold, if something goes wrong, who's to get Ruinfea out of it?"

Whilst Kam was fine with people taking the brunt, getting sacrificed for a cause, there was an innate feeling this group of mortals were not. His only connection's he'd formed was Rylan, his father... everyone else is simply means to an end.

“That’s where the plan needs help. I don’t want to loose anyone in the process.” Looking back towards Kam. “It’s my understanding this gate  transports those passing through it from one point to the other instantaneous with out them having to traverse through another plane. As for others passing through after Rylan comes through ... we’ll if I stop concentrating on it they’ll not be successful.”

"I think we need to start with a fall back if the gate doesn't work. They could for all we know have something in place to prevent it from even being used. We need to scope it out before we plan accordingly"

"I like the entire idea but we may be overcomplicating what could be done with just a simple sneak and go. Distractions, destruction, back up plan. Arcane Gate last resort if that makes any sense"  he looked back towards Fuego, "They're going to expect us to go all out,"

Fuego listened intently, “No that makes sense, and I wholeheartedly agree, we need some reconnaissance done.”

Fuego took a seat. “Does anything come to mind? Since there’s more to you then what we all thought.” Fuego asked.

"None of us have to directly go, I'm sure I'm not the only one who can summon things to my aid. An if I am,  well. Something small, faster than a cambion can easily slip in and out an give a report back.  And number of fiends are small and lithe. " and a small fiend wouldn't be missed if it's spoted or simply decides not to.

For the time being Kam continued to stand. He wasn't sure just how anyone within ear shot would take the suddenly demonic aid".

“That’s a solid idea. Would this summoned grind need to return to you? Or would you be linked mentally?” Fuego asked leaning back into the chair.

“I’m gonna be honest, your considerably better as a warlock then I. What little interaction I’ve had with my Patron.” Fuego paused to shake the memory he had earlier as he woke. “I don’t trust her.”

"I suppose it would depend on the type I summon. I know the cambiom could but they're not exactly great for sneaking in and out. ..." Kam gave a moment of pause "can anyone of you scry? " that would completely less complicate this entire plan. It it's blocked then move on from there.

"I wouldn't say that, besides I have a better relationship with my patron among other factors. " he mused for a moment over smaller things,  his blood line sure as hell helped.  "To be frank your patrons a bitch,  I wouldn't either "

Fuego laughed at Kam’s remark about his patron. “Your not wrong, she is. I’m sure I’ll have to deal with her sooner or later.”

He gave the question some thought, “I’m not sure but I think one of them might. I think the option was floated back in either Spriggon or Littlegrove. I don’t recall who suggested it.”

Fuego suddenly jumped up having a eureka moment. “If not, I’m fairly certain I could call on a familiar, granted I haven’t tried it yet, but it’s an option.”

"A possibility for a later date I'm sure,  but I may have some cards to play against her in your favor pending" of course for the time he'd only go thus far with the information a conversation for a later date.

Kam could only lean back at the sudden outburst, as it was moreso idea than aggression. " wait....  You've not been using your familiar?  " this is without a shadow of a doubt the first time any of them had seen him crack a fanged mawd smile.

"It could have saved your party so many issues but now is a good time to give it a try. A minion to do work for you?  Yes and it's  brilliant. Perfect. If push to shove we can send them both an the fiend can distract if your familiar needs to get away. "

Fuego tilted his head slightly, surprised at the first sign of an emotion from Kam during their conversation, “I supposed better late then never.”

He just shook his head lightly pinching the scales between his eyes. He felt like such a dunce. He’s gonna have to remember all his skills, not just the few he enjoys.

“Sounds like we’ve got some ideas flushed out.” Fuego let out a small noise that sounded like a huff or possibly a snort. “Never expected to cross paths with a Vampire, but I’m glad your on our side.” Fuego said as he extended his hand.

"Indeed start now while you have the time to do so, or stick to what you know if you want to rid yourself lf her when you have the chance. " that flood of power always came at a price.

Kam wouldn't exactly call it a side just yet,  he was out for his own and rylan. These people had a long way. "Some for the most part until what everyone else brings to the table. "

Without a moments hesitation he took the dragonborns hand, scale to cold flesh.

“Fair enough.” Fuego said with a simple nod and shook Kam’s hand with in a firm agreement. “We’ll discuss the plan with everyone before we head out. I’m sure the others will have thoughts as well.” He added as he relaxed his hand.

Fuego started to turn to leave, “One more thing.” He said as he turned to look Kam dead in the eye, knowing full well it could be the last action he takes.

“These people are my family, my clan and I will not let another one die. If that means I have to burn in the process to save anyone of them. I will do it without a moments hesitation.” Fuego said directly.

Kam can only give a slight smirk in response to fuegoes boldness. Now would have been the time to take advantage of such a brazen action,  but in a show of good faith for the time being he let the fellow warlock continue on his way with no effect.

Fuego inclined his head in what he presumed was Kam’s acknowledgment. “I’ll let you get back to what you where doing, unless you needed anything.” Fuego did not let it show he was relieved his gamble worked.

Fuego's words had little to no effect on kam in terms of the threat that was levied. Not after the inaction in rylan's caputre. Perhaps they should have learned that from his reaction to the Deva. Words are simply that.

"If everyone wishes to plan let me know. I need to speak with someone else if you catch my drift "

Fuego nodded, “Then I will leave you to it.” And with that Fuego left Kam to do as he needed.

As Fuego left Kam he couldn’t help but feel as if there was a battle going on with in himself. Between who he is and whom he was, his past and present, hells his patron and his soul. Time would tell if he would be the same once all was said and done.

And with that Kam moved to walk away,  back towards where the specimens were being displayed suspended in ichor. He needed to attempt a chat with his father at some point. The game itself had changed. Even if jt was just a small update,  perhaps he could see something they were missing. …

##### *Bryn & Thea*

Night had finally fallen. The moon still hung low in the sky. Surrounded by tall mountains, and the high walls of the tower, what little light existed in the elevated valley cast high, thin shadows against the walls and floors. Everything here was cold. The tower itself, crafted from the same stone as the mountains around it, offered little in way of hospitality. The only solace seemed to be that the moon that was rising in the sky was bright, and the stars were unobstructed by clouds, and the lack of wind made the entire valley feel both sheltered an ominous.

Her pack and javelin resting at her feet,  Bryn stood staring out in the direction she’d felt . . . \*them\* . . . take Rylan. Her small frame was tense, and she clenched and unclenched her left hand almost reflexively. Her breath came roughly as the words of the gods clambered for primacy in her thoughts.

What would she do? What \*could\* she do? And, when it came down to it, how far would she go?

She had no answers to these questions, and the one person which whom she’d talked about such things had been carried off. Bryn could only imagine the horrors her friend was facing at that very moment.

Time was slipping away but as much as it pained her, she knew the others were right. There was no use in going in, weapons blazing, heads too clouded to make decisions properly. Thea stepped out into the courtyard, searching for some privacy which seemed to be lacking inside the tower.

Her head was buzzing, too much floating around for her to find peace. At first she didn't notice Bryn's small figure standing before her. "Bryn..." Her voice sounded far away in her head. "Bryn, would you rather be alone right now?"

Bryn didn’t turn round, but kept her gaze \*out there\*. Thea’s voice cut through the noise in her head, even if just for a moment.

She shook her head no, then realized it might be difficult for Thea to see her in the dark. “N . . . no.” she stammered. “Stay. Please.”

Her left hand now stayed balled in a fist, but she stretched out her right in an open palm.

Thea's eyes trained on the back of Bryn's head. The gnomes white hair practically glowed in the moonlight, giving her an ethereal look.

"n...no, stay. please" The sound of Bryn's voice clawed into Thea's mind. The events of earlier in the day had left the party torn, and she didn't think any of them should be alone at a time like this. For right now though, her focus was on Brynwick.

Finding some small bit of calm in her mind, she took her friend's hand in hers, moving closer to sit cross legged beside her. "Then I'll stay."

Bryn turned and look at Thea as she came up beside her. Her breathing eased, and she looked a bit relieved as Thea settled herself on the ground.

Then she, too sat down, their hands between them.

“I thought . . . I thought there would be more \*time\*,” she began. And then the words refused to come, and she found herself silent even as her brain was screaming.

The ground felt cold beneath her limbs and the cool air was refreshing in her lungs. Her eyes stayed with Bryn as she sat and when she spoke it took everything within Thea to not crack. Eyes watering she leaned closer. "Time for what?"

Time was fickle in it's march forward. Sometimes it flies by, and sometimes it feels as though it's at a stand still, but no matter what it always continued on. Having something to focus on was helping her.

“Time to talk. To set things right, or at least . . . \*righter\*. Because both Oghma and . . . the \*other one\* both gave me much to think about. But breakfast was so relaxing I didn’t want to spoil it. And then I suppose I spoiled it anyway. And then we were in the gardens helping Ruinfea with the mushes and that wasn’t the right time either. And now here we are and the time still isn’t right but there’s so much to say.

To you, and to everyone . . . to Rylan.”

Thea listened intently as Bryn spoke, focusing on her words. She thought back to that morning, because it had only been just that morning, and flushed a little in embarrassment when their conversation came to mind. Beyond that the morning had been one of the most pleasant of their time together.

"I'm not going anywhere, and I don't think the others plan to either... as for Rylan, well." She paused for a beat, thinking. "We're going to get him back." She knew it was clique to say that, but she couldn't think of the alternative. Not now, not ever.”

Bryn’s voice went to a low growl. “By the gods we will get him back, and that . . . that \*bastard\* will pay . . . or so help me . . .

Then her voice returned to a more normal register.

But that’s for tomorrow, isn’t it? Tonight - tonight, I want you to know I’m sorry. Because Oghma was right: I haven’t exactly treated you as a friend, have I?

You’ve done so much for me: comforting me when Adrian Oakengrove died. Backing me up with Alas Whane. Defending me in Spriggan. Helping me out of the water in the Dreamscape. Hauling me over the rooftops in Dewport. Leading me on that mission to free Valendra. Telling me to get that dress in Morad so that I felt beautiful for the first time I can remember . . .

And in return, I’ve . . . largely ignored you. You’ve backed the party . . . no, \*me\* up every step of the way. And I . . . well, not so much I think.”

Thea let go of Byrn's hand and laced her fingers together. She didn't feel the same way, at least she hadn't thought of their relationship that way. But she let Bryn speak. After Bryn was done, she let the silence fall between them for a moment, thinking carefully of what to say in response.

"Byrn... I... I don't think that's true." She tried to catch the gnomes gaze. "You've been with us... with me every step of the way."

Bryn allowed herself a smile.

“Well, if you say so, then I’ll accept that.

I mean, I know enough to know you and I think quite a bit alike. We do seem to make an okay support team when push comes to shove . . .

Let’s promise we’ll talk more about normal stuff and not just when things go south.”

Thea's face relaxed, she even let herself smile but only a tiny one.

"You and I are basically in the same business... knowledge."

“And yet for all my knowledge, I appear to lack understanding. I get the feeling Rylan was hinting that something like this was possible, and I just didn’t see it. Or maybe I refused to see it because he’s Rylan.

I know the others will likely have a plan to get him back. I have . . . I have . . . well, I wouldn’t call it so much a plan as an idea. I would need to be able to attack that bastard that took him, but I don’t know if it will work. It might not work at all.

And that scares me, because the  dark messenger hinted that one day I would fail, and \*he\* would be waiting, ready to give me power if I would only ask for it.

I just didn’t think it might come so soon . . .”

"If Rylan did hint toward something like this, none of us saw the signs. Or if they did, didn't say anything."

The idea of Bryn taking power from this other god wasn't something Thea wanted to consider, but if Bryn had a plan it could change her mind. "I don't think you've failed. I think that happened was a bit beyond our control." She thought for a moment. "What's your idea?"

In a small, determined voice Bryn said:

“I’m going to tear him apart. It may very well be my undoing.”

And then, a bit more calmly yet definitely serious:

“And if it is, you should know that back on the Djinn’s Wish, when Oghma stopped speaking to me, I wrote a will. It’s the page on top of my journal. I thought someone should know. Not the kind of thing one enjoys talking about, but perhaps it’s necessary.”

And with that, Bryn let go of Thea’s hand and moved closer to her side.

“I hope that’s all right.”

At the mention of a will, Thea held her breath. Did she need a will? Was it as bad as that? She tried to keep her mind on the positive side of things. It was all going to work out in the end. Wasn't it?

Breathlessly she replied, "It's alright."

The two sat in silence for a moment. Her eyes scanned the sky, taking in the moon and the brightness of the stars.

"Don't lose yourself in this." Her voice was tight in her throat. "We'll find a way. Gods know what the others have in their heads."

Bryn sensed her friend’s - her \*friend\* ! -  unease.

“Maybe I should clarify: I made \*another\* will. I had one drawn up before I even left Spriggan the first time. This one reflects more . . . recent events and understandings, given everything we’ve learned.

And I promise I will do my absolute best not to lose myself. But I won’t lose him without a fight. I would do anything . . . [she looks at her hand] well, almost anything.”

Thea's eyes landed on Bryn's hand, she reached out and placed her's over her friend's. "Thank you for telling me about your will, but with any luck I wont need to look for it." She took a moment before continuing. "We are strongest when we fight together, and I will not stand for one of us to be taken away like this. Besides, Rylan and I will be opening a tavern some day... and that can't happen if he's been captured by this monster."

Bryn looked out into the darkness, how the moon pushed back against the void.

“Monsters can be killed. And you will sing the tale of its defeat. Tomorrow, we rescue our friend. Tonight, we rest. We prepare. We plan. And me? I need to write . . . write and meditate.”

She leaned over and gave Thea a hug as best she could.

“Thank you. For listening. For being here. For being \*you\*.”

Thea wrapped her arms around Bryn's small frame. "And you will chronicle our victory for generations to read." She let Bryn go. "I will listen whenever you need me to."

She stood, her legs stiff from sitting. "I'll leave you to your thoughts." And with that exited the courtyard, on the hunt for a quiet room where she could become one with her instruments and let music ease her mind.

Bryn stayed for a few minutes more. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be alone with her thoughts.

Thea considered her a friend. Fuego listened to her venting. Perhaps the Third Family had seen her as a friend a along, despite the flaws Oghma had made plain. Perhaps things weren’t as bleak as she envisioned them - when it came to the party at least.

She considered Rylan, and made up her mind. She used sending to send him a message:

We are coming and will tear them apart. Don’t lose hope. [message pauses] know that I am sorry, that I love you, and we’ll talk again.

And then she too stood and stretched, and went in search of a quiet corner where she could write. If the worst were to come tomorrow, at least her work would be up-to-date.

\*don’t push yourself too much\* she reminded herself. \*You’ve got to help Rylan, after all.\*

##### *Kam*

The deeper anyone got into the tower, the colder it got. A rational mind might say it was because the building was built out of nothing by stone and metal, and the cold had a way of insulating itself under such conditions. Perhaps it was a bit of that, but places like this always have an effect on the soul, so the chill was more than skin deep. This room was no exception. Off to the right off the foyer, almost easy to miss, there was an unassuming door that led into a long room. The smell of musk and mildew hung heavily in the air. The dozen or so specimen chambers against the wall had a thin film of mold upon them, indicating that they had not been opened or touched in a very long time. The stagnant water had allowed the decay take over, while remaining perfectly protected in their glass protection. And through the film, once or never living creatures hung in suspension.

This tower is the closest place upon leaving the Abyss that held any inkling of home in the Shadowfell. But that wasn't his home any more,  no it was some place further. A place far better in his opinion. Kam let his clawed fingers drift along the walls, hearing the light sounds of stone and metal resonate beneath his talons. This place held a touch of death, were something precious as life had been twisted into a dark thing. Hopefully with the tears still freahly healed it would hold a stronger chance of breaking through.

He turned the corner into the specimen room careful to make sure he wasn't being followed before closing the door behind him. Taking a seat on the floor to concentrate.

Speaking quietly in abyssal as he focused his thoughts elsewhere.

\*\*"I have the information that may be of use "\*\*

If there was more silence to be heard, it fell. For a moment, it was almost as if the specimens in the glass were answering Kam's talon taps with sounds of their own. A shifting of a hip bone with a grind and a faint snap. The faint passing of breath from under the water, a soft gurgle without struggle. The very sound of eyes, blinking. Even those subtle sounds settled down and around and away as Kam settled in, and the familiar wash of \*someone else's\* presence filled the space. It was not here, or there, but it rest in-between so that could answer back to the call from the realm of the material. The voice that came was low, and drew attention, no matter how much one might try to avoid it. Though, Kam wasn't even attempting to avoid this entity, was he?

Time, it always seemed to take time. Sometimes minutes sometimes hours,  days. The young vampire could only hope for speed this time on the others end. The gurgles,  the tapping,  creak of old unused water logged bone, a hopeful indicator.  While he heard the noise to others. Voice to his ears,  he couldn't help but allow himself the pleasure of a simple smirk.

he paused giving the other a chance to put the parts together.

with this others presence there's a sense of ease for the first time,

It was the feeling of never being alone again. It was the sensation of a hand of familiarity on the shoulder. Being circled, and watched, and measured. It was no wonder that those of a certain mind found such creatures of evil. They could not handle the weight of such scrutiny. They didn't like to be judged. They couldn't handle the idea of being rejected. There was no such risk for Kam, though.

Perhaps this is why Kam hardly seems concerned with the judgement of others upon his species. It matters not in the grand scheme of everything. No, it infact doesnt matter at all. It all pales in the shadow of \*this\*

\*\*"𝕴 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖎𝖙."\*\* The voice rolled again, never a trace of games or mockery in his tone. Only the truth for this one. There were schemes and plans, but he would not play with them when it such dedicated family. For a moment, that Abyssal power settled against Kam's skin, a flush of warmth against the cold, before it drifted away like silk on the wind. He took with him a low hum, one that hadn't been noticed until it was gone, and the environmental sounds of the necromantic workshop fluttered back to Kam's senses.  He was gone, say for the linger feeling of the favor that still hovered inside Kam as the presence left, and the vampire returned, unobserved, back to his immediate senses.

The warmth, perhaps thats what  it felt like to be among the living. Just as it lifted from his skin Kam immedantly missed the feel. Missed home, the one where he belonged. Nor judged in such a way for simply existing. And in that moment when he returned to his senses on the material realm, Kam held a new vantage point and news for Rylan once they got him back. The Heir's plan would move forward with a meeting whenever the Drow was ready to.

##### *Thea*

It started as simply a wrinkle in the restrained chaos of the Weave. Something all too easily dismissed as oft most of the  portents that Arch Mistress Konstantinova fixated upon that her peers in the Tower indulged her. They had learned after her years here in Toril that it was foolish to dismiss the Vistani's concerns when the strands of Fate misbehaved so. All too often it was her foresight that saved more than a handful of inexperienced Acolytes of the guild and witless nobles of whatever Court she had been assigned to at that time.

The \*tarokka\* did not lie. Unease settled into the pit of her stomach as she shuffled and dealt the deck twice, thrice more and still the same cards found their home spread out before her. Her girl was in danger; both heart and hale her Theodosia's path was headlong into so much death and suffering. It was easy enough to ply the Viscount she was to be minding; the old lecher was led by his nose and by his purse by plenty of his peers in court. She had to leave \*now\*, especially when Mystra's Weave began to whine, then scream, then tear inside her mind. When the fabric of the Realms began to stretch and tear, Ana had barely enough time to grab her traveling pack before calling the Mists to her. It was an act of desperation, knowing full well that her erstwhile stalker would be able to sense her passage. A calculated risk but necessary.

Treading the Mist at a breakneck sprint, punctuated only the sound of her heels striking at the ground Ana fled through once more. When It parted for her, the ornate necromancer's tower before her was an oddly comforting sight. At the very least her niece might not find fault with her proclivities. The wards parted as easily as the Mist as she made her intention known. And with that a quick sending to her niece to meet her out front. Two words but ones she had cooed with affection over her since she was in her crib. "Hello, Lambkin." the barest of lilts in tone.

The ripples of emotion from earlier events hit Thea in waves. They were the scariest moments of her life so far. Not because she herself was in danger, but because someone she cared for deeply was ripped from her and her party. Taken so viciously it didn't seem real. She sat cross legged on the floor on of the small room, the Satyr's lyre gripped in her hands.

The instrument glinted in the flickering light from the candles. It's strings taught and ready to spill the melody she felt in her fingertips. Beautiful in it's craftsmanship, the instrument felt as though it had belonged to her for her whole life. Just as she was about to hit her first note, a gentle whisper glided into her mind.

"Hello, Lambkin." A voice as familiar to her as her own mother's. She stood slowly not truly knowing who she would find waiting for her.

For the first time in her rather unconventional life, Ana felt the strangest sensation. It seized her heart like a vice and it took her a few moments before she realized it's source. She was nervous; nervous her own blood would cast her out. Nervous that after all these years she would outright reject her and the foreign emotion clung to her like adipocere.

Thank Sune she stayed a blonde; the possibility that Thea would share her hair and what it meant back in Barovia would be the cruelest trick Fate could play. She stepped out from the shadows with the rustle of her silk mantua and silver chatelaine loud in her ears. "Thea... it's me, your Aunt Ana. I'm here to help."

Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness outside, Thea's breathe caught in her throat. The woman emerging from the shadows was familiar to her, yet a stranger at the same time. Standing inches taller than herself, Thea's green eyes searched the woman's face.

"Aunt Ana?" Her aunt's voice rang in her ears, she'd heard it all her life but couldn't remember every having a face to go with the name.

The second they were within arm's reach Ana opened her arms wide to pull her beloved niece into a warm hug. "All grown up on me already? By the Godess, you look so much like my little Nere." The Vistani felt the loss of her sister to the very bones; after being inseparable as children being parted on the planes was the cruelest part of her elysium in Toril.

Resting her cheek against her niece's hair she let her eyes close in thanks that Ana had made it here in time and that at least for now what she had seen hadn't set itself into certainty in the fabric of fate. Ana held tight, not letting go until she did first. "I could hear your pain all the way in my tower and then the \*tarokka\* told me you needed me. What's wrong \*chavi\*? What has you so?"

Wrapped in Ana's arms, Thea felt herself relax. "Auntie, I'm fine. Physically fine." She took a step back, looking once again to familiarize herself with her Aunt's features. Somehow she just knew in her bones that this person was on her side, and had been all her life. "But a member of my family has been taken." She shuttered, thinking of the terrible moments leading up to Rylan's kidnapping.

Ana's brows furrowed as her ebony eyes scanned over the face of the daughter of her heart if not of body. Her expression turned grave, mind running through multitudes of patterns, profane mathematics, spells and cunning that she could possibly aid with. "Is Nere safe?" There was an urgency to her words as a cloying paranoia lapped at her heels. If \*He\* thought he could take her sister from her again so help her Sune she would flood that damn'd castle with the brilliance of her Lady Firehair.

"Tell me everything."

Thea's eyes grew wide at the mention of her mother. "Mama is fine, safe with Papa at their tavern." She sucked in a deep breath a shadow falling over her face. "A member of my party was taken. The Third Family has truly become my family since we banded together." She took her time, explaining what they had been through as quickly as she could, ending with Rylan's sudden and unwilling departure. Surprisingly saying it out loud helped settle her thoughts. She shook her head, "We should move inside."

As soon as Ana had confirmation her sister was safe, the mage immediately relaxed the tension in her spine. There was clearly something that didn’t have ties back to their homeland going on and that fact alone was more than enough reason for her to want to help. Even a dark elf army paled in comparison with the rotted soul of Barovia. So she listened intently, a barely there smile began to form as she listened to the ups and downs of their adventures.

“If the only formally trained caster you have at your disposal is still mid-concentration back at the capitol then you definitely need me. I’ll follow your lead and my knowledge of the Weave is at your full disposal.  And I should take a look at that counter-spellwork to make sure nothing else untoward slipped through.”

Thea turned to make her way back into the Necromancer's tower. Pausing before she taking her first step, "Thank you..." The two words didn't feel like enough. "Thank you for coming, and for always watching." She made to lead Ana to the central chamber, where the attack had taken place.

Ana paused for a moment, hands clasped on her mantua and petticoat in preparation for heading up the stairs. She gave her niece a quick flash of a smile, feeling the weight of the situation and hoping that she had the right spells in her grimoire to be of aid. The heavy book hung at her side in it’s crossbody holster and the weight was as familiar as her own limbs.

“Thank me after I help, I’ll not steal gratitude I haven’t yet earned. As for the rest, of course! You’re family, lambkin, and checking in on you beats the tedium of court and the bickering of the young adepts fresh to the tower. I should be thanking you for making my day interesting.”

The Third Family never had a problem keeping things interesting, but this... this was something else. She stifled a smile and shook her head, she wasn't ready to smile yet. A part of her blamed herself for what happened to Rylan, and she knew many others in the party felt the same way. "This party keeps its members on their toes... that's for sure."

Ana released her skirt and held out her hand, palm up in reassurance. “Your friend will be alright. As of when I pulled the \*tarokka\* all was in flux and danger yes, but there were no lights snuffed out before their time. It’s alright me dear to be afraid. Keep the faith. And I cannot wait to meet these companions of yours.”

At that, Thea paused. She would need to introduce her aunt to the rest of the party, and she wished more than anything that Rylan was among them. She wondered what Ana would think of their motley crew of misfits. "I think you'll like them. And I'm interested to see what you think of the latest person to tag along with us." She sucked in a deep breath. Kam had acted well during the battle, and his actions afterward proved how he cared for Rylan. That still didn't earn him Thea's trust just yet. She didn't know how to feel about him but she was willing to learn more.

Now that she wasn’t sprinted through the Mists, Ana felt everything that had tensed since her reading begin to relax. And while she had to make a calculated risk in revealing herself to \*Him\* it was worth it to be able to be of aid to her kin.

“There is very little company you could keep I would not approve of.” In truth since she had come to Toril where Outsiders simply did not exist, she had come to the acquaintance of many over the decades. Unless her niece was holing up with the likes of Barovia’s worst nightmare, she’d approve of them. The sound of her heels announced their presence before them and Ana braced herself for the likes of which the blood of her blood had given the honor of ‘family’.

##### *Fuego*

Fuego awoke from his rest still hurting, not physically, but he hurt just the same. He was angry because his friend ... his brother was skewered like a kebab and all he did in the ensuing fight was stand there like a frightened fawn.

After all they had been through from Giant beholders to facing literal gods. He froze and he was furious. Fuego kicked chair causing it to fall over, but that didn’t do anything to sedate the anger he was feeling so he grabbed a table and flipped it over causing the books and papers that where on it to go flying.

That seemed to have helped the destructive feeling he was having. He closed his eyes with tears starting to form as he fell to his knees. “Help.” He whispered almost so low it could ave been a thought.

The room was cold. Or at least it started out that way. The kind of cold that comes from long dead stone surrounding long dead relics. This place was dead, in so many ways. But there was a voice that breathed life into the room. Fuego did not notice when the doors shut behind him, and latched, a whisper of a motion that would certainly go unnoticed. In fact, the first indication that Fuego was no longer alone in the empty chamber was when arms slithered around him, creeping up his back and over his shoulders, to wrap around him. The voice was in his ears, a smile in every inch of the tone. "𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒... 𝐼'𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒..."

Fuego tensed his body as soon as he felt her touch. He inhaled deeply and methodically exhaled without opening his eyes. He wanted to scream and let out the burning flame that he and his kin where known for, but he paused at a thought, no a memory. He knew her name now.

With a coy smirk, “Sairché, that’s your name isn’t it.” He whispered.

For  a moment, the hands tensed, the long claws of her nails gripping at his shirt, before they relaxed again, and returned to something that was not unlike an embrace. "ꜱᴏ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ, ɪꜱ ɪᴛ?" Her voice still held that purring tone, complete with a satisfied smile. The hands traced back from shoulders, though it was hard to ignore that for a moment, the soft heat of them lingered over his neck, before the glances disappeared like vapors. Her foot falls were light on the floor, the gentle click of a heeled boot under slender legs. When she walked into his vision, she was actually taller than him, a full 7 feet at her full height.

Her hair was a bramble of living flame, her eyes were heated embers. Her dark lips parted to reveal the very tips of her fangs. Before she completed her walk to stand before Fuego, she waved a hand and lit the overturned table with red and orange flames, dancing tall enough for her to stride into. In the pyre of her making, she stood, and all the while never took her gaze away from Fuego.

"ꜱᴀɪʀᴄʜÉ." She relished in the sound of her own name before continuing. "ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀ, ᴍʏ ᴀᴄᴏʟʏᴛᴇ."

Once she moved into Fuego’s vision he was sure to not break eye contact. He had a mix of emotions while looking at her, all of them primal. Some he was sure she would relish is and some he would till his dying breath.

Fuego’s mind however was wild with thoughts, from trying to peace together his past with the flame kissed vestige of sensuality before him, to what bargain they had stuck up, to what other power had he not realized he had, to how they where going to save Rylan.

He ignored her question, “A Drow going by the monicker ‘The First Blade’ attacked and took one of my family. I ...” he started.

The look she flashed him was both scalding and alluring, and fiery invitation for him to keep talking, even though she was sure to be the one to speak next. "ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴀᴛ? ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ? ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇɴʏɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ?"

Fuego narrowed his eyes. “You ...” he could feel his blood boil with familiar burn, but before he let it get the better of him. “I’ve been denying you because I don’t trust you. Upon out first meeting in Spriggan, you asked me to leave the only people I know, who consider me family.” He said pointedly.

“I know I got this power from you thanks to some kind of deal. Help, for all I know you broke our deal and that’s why my memory has been stolen from me.!” He said loudly.

He unwaveringly took a step towards her, “This is supposed to be a tit for tat arrangement. You seem to be a rather wanting strumpet. What will I get if I accept you?”

She seemed more insulted by the idea that she would break off a deal than being called "strumpet." So much of the mirth was gone from her tone and her look. She appeared to be ever more disapproving the more she spoke. "ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ..." The laugh returned to her words, though now it had a touch of ire to it. "ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴇᴛᴜʟᴀɴᴛ."

She slide forward now, close to him, not touching him, but so dangerously close to burning him. "ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ. ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ʀᴇꜱɪꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ. ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ. ᴘʟᴜꜱ... ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ɴɪɢʜᴛ'ꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ."

Fuego snorted a laugh, “That’s twice you’d be wrong, Flame Tits. I’m stronger thanks to them.” He lifted a hand grazing her flames. “However, will accepting your ... assistance,” he said goading her before continuing “help save my family.”

"ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛᴇɴꜱᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ, ɪɢᴜᴀɴᴀ ʜᴇᴀᴅ. ᴍʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴀꜱ... ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ." She smirked, like she was playing a game of some kind. "ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴡʜʏ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴄʟɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ɪꜰ ᴏɴʟʏ \*\*\*ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ\*\*\* ʜᴀᴅɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴇɴʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴏɴ ᴇɴᴅ. ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴏʀᴇ..." She arched an eyebrow at him, the smile fading from her lovely, fire-lit face. "ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴘᴀɪʀ ᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏɴᴅ?"

“Oh gracious me, what ever shall I do.” Fuego said feigning a damsel in destress tone. “Let’s speak plainly Sairché. What do \*You\* want from me. Unless your hear to taste your own smoke.”

"ɪ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀᴛꜱ, ꜰᴜᴇɢᴏ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʙʀɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰɪʀᴇ." She didn't move away from him. Not one inch. "ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴏꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇꜱ? ɪᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍꜱ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪʟʟꜱ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ \*\*\*ᴛʜʀɪᴠᴇ\*\*\* ɪɴ ɪᴛ." She grinned wide enough to show off  her pure white teeth. "ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇꜱ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜰɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴏᴜʀᴄᴇꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʟɪᴘ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ. ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ?"

Fuego tilted his head slightly, slipped away resource, she must mean the Rod he refused to take possession of. Of course this was about a vie for power. The question of wether he is willing to work with her to save Rylan was weighing heavily. If he did, would he be strong enough to fight her next request, what about the one after that, or those that followed.

“If I’m amenable to the idea of acquiring resources, will you stop hobbling me?”

"ʏᴇꜱ..." she said, her voice as sweet as honey boiling on the surface of hot stone. "ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him in a soft embrace. Their foreheads almost touched with just how close she was. Her hair continued to roll and dance, casting her face in deep shadows, her eyes glowing as embers in the darkness of her features. "ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅ."

Fuego could feel the heat from her flames, her touch bringing forth those primal.  feelings. He took a deep breath clearing his mind, he cast them all aside. “Then you have my answer.”

From out in the foyer, the sound of high heeled boots against the stone floor announced an arrival that did not sound familiar. Who wore high heels on a quest? It drew his attention away for just a moment, long enough for everything to change. How warm had this room been getting? It was much easier to notice when the fire, suddenly, extinguished in a quick gust. The chill returned, violently. The light went out, and Fuego was left alone in the room. The only evidence of the encounter: the charred remains of a workshop table…

#### *Rescuing Rylan*

##### *Approach*

Engrossed in our own thoughts and conversations, we almost didn’t hear them. Almost.

High heels clicked on the stone floors of the main chamber. We knew no one in the party wore heels; heels aren’t suitable for adventuring. We each entered the room in our own fashion to see the source: a woman walking with Thea, a cross-body book holster strapped across her chest, chains and objects dangling from her hip, and a bag perched somewhat precariously on her back – all preceded by the smell of grave dirt and funeral flowers.

“Pardon me, lady, but have we met before?” Loray asked.

“Decades, it would seem . . .”

“Twenty years or more . . .”

“I had not known you made my niece’s familiarity.”

“I did not know you had a niece.”

The Woman grinned.

“And what name did you introduce yourself under?”

“I hadn’t, as of yet. Give your parents my best . . .”

“I’ll be sure to do so, when next I see them.”

“What is going on?” Ruinfea whispered to Loray.

“I’ll explain later.”

Thea, meanwhile, looked completely and utterly confused. Whatever her connection to the woman, she appeared unknowing of her connection to Loray.

Fuego entered, looked at Thea and the woman, back at us, and then back to them.

“So is someone going to . . . are you . . .”

“Oh, yes,” Thea said as she focused on the conversation at hand. “Auntie, this is Fuego.”

“Pleased to meet you. I was checking in on my niece and heard the cry for help. I am Anastasiya Konstantinova – Arch Mistress, First Evoker of the Weave, Magistra of Bedlam, Serene Highness of Blood and Bone, Marquess of the Veil, Mistwalker, and Ambassador to the Dread Realm of Barovia – at your service.”

As she listed her many titles, Kam looked unsettled but not uncomfortable.

Thea then introduced her Aunt “Ana” as we were to call her to each of us individually. She gave us thin, tight-lipped smiles and ended with Kam.

“So, who’s the wizard, then?”

“We have no wizard to speak of,” Aniel began.

“Well, then it’s good I brought my books.”

“And you can prepare with speed?”

“I can do a great many things with speed, even as I walk.”

“Then we had best get started.”

“What, exactly, is our next step?” Thea asked.

“Well, Kam and I were kicking around some ideas,” Fuego began.

“Love to hear them,” Loray interrupted.

“We need intel. Kam suggested scrying.”

“I’m a war caster,” Ana said. “I’m not a scryer, though I could send Belial.”

“And what is a Belial?” Aniel asked.

“He’s my familiar – a bat.”

“Intelligent?” Kam wanted to know.

“Very.”

“And the camp? Do we know any directions?”

Kam and I explained what we’d found with our magic and interrogation.

“If only we could warn Rylan, or let him know we’re coming,” Ruinfea said aloud.

“He knows.” I said.

“You say that as if you are certain,” Ana said a tad condescendingly.

“I am.”

“And how is that, may I ask?” she arched her eyebrows.

“Because I told him.”

That seemed to satisfy her.

“Do you know exactly where . . .?” Loray began, before I shook my head.

“I can scry,” Ruinfea told us. “Remember, I did it back in Dewport?”

“And will that tell us where he is?” Ana asked.

“It will allow me to see and hear what’s going on within ten feet of Rylan, and help guide us to where he is.”

“And what about him?”

We’d forgotten Lindor. He sat in a corner, knees in his chest, staring off into space.

“His necromancy has driven him mad, sacrificed himself to the dark arts. I can help him, I think. It’s not impossible, but taking him on an adventure would be risky for both him and us.”

“What do you mean?” Ruinfea asked.

“I can help him later, when we get back. I can take him back with me.”

“He’s my brother . . .”

“And Thea is my family, and she has claimed you as hers. I will treat him as my kin.”

“What about his safety while we’re gone?” (Aniel)

“There’s no telling what he might do . . .” Fuego pointed out.

“Well . . . I can give him something to do. He looks like a caster to me . . . I can give him an Acheron to play with.”

“Make it a hard one,” Loray suggested.

“I shall use profane maths.”

“Profane maths – are there any other kind?” I interjected, earning a toothy grin from Ana.

Ruinfea began scrying, using the necklace Rylan had given her before, along with his holy symbol.

Thea offered Brioche to Kam.

“You sure?”

“Rylan would want you to carry her.”

Brioche, for her part, immediately ran to Kam and snuggled down between his armor and his chest.

Ruinfea broke her concentration.

“It seems like it’ll be a two-hour walk if we keep our normal pace. They’ve got him locked in a cage, chained up by his wrists and muzzled like an animal. They’ve cut off his hair and stomped it into the ground. Around him are several tents, but one is larger than the rest. I think that’s where the bastard that took him is.

“So. We follow Ruinfea,” Aniel declared. “Is there anything else to do before we leave?”

Fuego cast fiendish resilience/resistance while Ruinfea did the same with cosmic omen.

“How do you intend on ending this?” Ana asked us. “I have a soul cage, should you desire it.”

“What do you mean?” I wondered.

“A soul cage captures a soul so you can do what you will with it at a later time. You can torture it, press it for information, even restore it to a body with the right magic.”

“No.” Kam declared flatly.

“But it may be a good source of information,” I pointed out.

“You wouldn’t want anything it had to tell you.”

“Thank you nonetheless,” Fuego said politely.

“Not at all. In battle it is always best to know the options, even if you choose not to use them.”  Ana paused before continuing. “Any idea of how large this army is?”

“My guess would be thirty soldiers or so,” Loray told her. I’d only counted 17 that attacked us.

“Then I am ready when you are.”

We left the tower before midnight and made our way along the . . . well, roads would be too kind a term, but tracks isn’t right, either – pathways, mostly overgrown and unused. It was as we were walking, perhaps about a third of a mile or so from the tower, that Thea and I spotted a glint of metal and protected leather sticking out from the underbrush.

We went over, and found Rylan’s belongings.

Thea sadly picked up Brioche’s carrier and handed it to Kam, explaining its use. As she settled into place, Thea gave her scratches and scritches; Brioche cooed.

Shifting, Kam noticed some cart tracks. “Are these going in the right direction?”

“Yes,” Ruinfea said as Thea and I placed the rest of Rylan’s things in the bag of holding.

“Just hold on a minute,” Ana said. “With the right materials I can make a witch’s bottle.”

“Will it slow us down?” Kam asked, deadpan.

“No; I said before I can do a great many things as I walk.”

“What do you need?” Thea asked.

“Some of Rylan’s hair would do nicely.”

“I have some of that in my brushes,” she replied, and rummaged in her bag for one. Pulling one out she selected a white strand and handed it over. “This has to be Rylan’s – he and Bryn are the only ones with white hair and I’ve never done her hair.”

Ana went to work, placing the hair into a bottle along with thread and herbs and needles and pins and a dash of red wine (?) all pulled from various pockets on her person. She gave it a shake, and Ruinfea heard a scream in her scrying.

“This will hurt whoever is hurting Rylan. All you have to do is give it a shake.”

“We could give the bard a maraca,” Loray joked.

Ana didn’t like it, and her face fell.

“All right then, who wants it?”

Ruinfea took it and attached it to her hip where it would shake nonstop as we walked.

“By the gods he’s going to feel that,” she said.

“Don’t pop the cork, you don’t want what’s in there splashing on you,”

On the horizon we saw a brightness caused by many fires.

Kam used the opportunity to raise a ghostly figure in a kind of reverse vaporization. A helper, of sorts.

“Is there a way to distract them?” Ruinfea asked.

“I can handle the army,” Ana said. “But I will need protection.”

Thea, Loray, and Aniel volunteered to stay behind. I would go with the others. That way there would be two healers in each party. And I still had designs against the First Blade.

As Kam and Ruinfea and Fuego and myself made our way into the camp, Ana went to work. She raised a shadow moil and a twinned spell wall of fire, intending to cut the army off from the main event (us). She wove it like a needle through thread.

Just before we lost sight of them, Ruinfea turned and smiled at Loray and cast fog cloud. He winked at her as the mists enveloped us.

We were within hearing distance of the First Blade. As the flames rose and the shadows filled in, we heard him call out “Go take care of that, will you?” and nineteen (by my count) Drow soldiers went off in the direction of Thea and the others.

##### *Outside the Camp*

Ana’s fire wall hurt the soldiers before they even arrived. Aniel took a blade to the chest but stayed upright, with Thea and Ana withstood an onslaught of arrows, though they took heavy damage.

Thea cast enthrall on approximately 12 of them, who stopped their aggressiveness.

Ana then hit them with lightening followed by a quickened danse macabre, raising the drow that fell as ravenous zombies commanded to attack their friends, rip them to shreds, and fest on their entrails.

Ana’s words, not mine.

Aniel and Loray seemed surrounded but managed to defend themselves.

“Don’t touch my zombies!” Ana called.

Thea healed her as Ana cast Witchbolt, which seemed to take care of the last-standing drow.

##### *Inside the Camp*

“I’m going to slow down the First Blade,” Kam said. “What are the rest of you doing?”

“I’m going with you,” I said. I wonder how I looked to him.

“We’re going to head to the cage,” Fuego said “and rescue Rylan.”

They were separated by only fifteen feet, but we decided caution was best, and so Kam and I headed straight for the First Blade while Ruinfea and Fuego circled around to the cage where Rylan was being held. They saw him dipping in and out of unconsciousness.

“Do you think your friends have come to rescue you?” I heard him say to him. “Well. I think we both know just what they’re going to find when they finally make it here – if they every do, that is.” And he took a large drink of wine from a glass on the table next to him.

“Stay close,” Kam told me before calling out to the First Blade

“Hey, idiot!” while simultaneously hitting him with an eldritch blast bolstered by a lance of lethargy.

He slowly turned to look at us and made eye contact with Kam, drawing his swords and attacking. I saw Kam take some damage, but it didn’t look like a lot.

“Huh.” The First Blade said, quirking his head. “You’re built different.”

Kam just smirked.

This was my chance. As I focused on him I recalled the wine he’d just taken a large drink of. “Divide Water” I said to myself, willing my magic to divide the water in his very body. It took the path of least resistance, and a large red cloud enveloped us. I had hurt him, and it felt good.

Fuego and Ruinfea had made it to the cage, and Ruinfea changed into a direwolf.

Kam reached out and grabbed the First Blade by the neck and began draining his life force with vampiric touch, making sure he kept the Blade in an area where he would take fire damage from Ana’s spell as well.

I tried using Toll the Dead to instill some fear in him, but no dice.

Fuego shattered the wood around the cage door frame.

Kam continued drawing the Blade’s life force.

By now the rest of the Drow had been clued in that something was wrong; ten of them rounded the corner.

I raised a spiritual weapon in the shape of a wine bottle and hit the Blade over the head with it.

Ruinfea pushed the wall in.

Fuego tried shattering the Blade, but without success.

Kam took the Blade down do the ground.

The Blade tried to speak, but nothing came out. His energy began to flow into Kam until there was nothing left – less than nothing as his body began to decompose a little as the skin began to shrink and his eyes sink back into his head.

The Drow sheathed their weapons and stood back smartly in line. This was not a surrender, but an acceptance of another’s victory. From the way they were acting, it appeared Kam had himself a Drow army.

Rylan woke up, saw Ruinfea, and sighed in agony.

Kam ran to him as Ana and Thea and Loray and Aniel entered the camp.

“Bryn!” he called. “Rylan needs you!”

I went to him.

“Told you we’d come,” I said as he looked at me with one good eye.

Looking him over it seemed his fever was due to a poison, his eyes refused to focus, and his right leg was shattered at the joint.

“mmmf!”

Fuego removed the muzzle.

“neurotoxin . . .”

I began to prepare Lesser Restoration, but Aniel stopped me.

“It will stop the fever, but also remove any of the immunities Rylan has built up in his system. It will take a month or more to rebuild . . .”

“Always the hard way, I said.”

Now more fully awake, Rylan talked me through preparing an antidote from ingredients found in the First Blade’s possession.

Kam prepared to set Rylan’s leg with Thea’s help.

“Hey, handsome,” Rylan said. “Come to save me this time?”

“More than save. I may have an army now.”

As he placed his hands on Rylan’s leg Thea offered him a piece of leather to bite down on.

His eyes grew big, and Kam got a smile on his face.

“Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Thea blushed.

“Seriously though . . .”

“Fuckin’ really” Rylan grunted through gritted teeth. “Tatiana spare me and take me back to the moss, please!”

Red, Thea turned to me. “Once the leg is set, cure him up as best you can.”

After the bones (ahem) had shifted I cast “mass cure wounds” helping not only Rylan but also Loray and Aniel and Thea and Ana and myself.

“I need a bath . . . and some grain alcohol . . . away from here . . .”

“There’s plenty of both back at the inn . . .” Thea pointed out.

“I don’t think I need to return there,” Kam said. “Besides, I don’t know what to do with this.” He gestured at the drow army apparently at his command.

Ruinfea spoke to Rylan as a wolf. I assume she asked if she wanted a ride, because Rylan said.

“I can walk,” and reached for a metal bar to use as a cane.

“Well, let’s move away from here.” Ruinfea said as she changed back. “Loray, can we use your tent?”

“Of course.”

Kam abdicated the role of First Blade, and Rylan issued commands in a language I did not understand. The remaining Drow began disassembling the camp.

As Kam rummaged in the pockets of the (former) First Blade, Rylan took a large swig of his wine, spit three times, and then walked away, slowly.

We left, and as the fires of the camp behind us faded, a glow ahead of us grew brighter.

Kam sent his ghost to find out what it could before it dissipated.

“Drow camp with marks of the royal family,” came the report before it wafted away in mist.

“Well, this is bad on bad,” he said. “Rylan, I sent my Cambion to tell your mother. It appears that she is here.”

Rylan sighed. “I couldn’t run forever.”

With no other options, we entered the camp.

#### *The Matron of  Menzoberranzan*

The soldiers here were mainly women, ordered about by G’eldaere Baenre, who seemed to not notice us.

But Rylan was noticed, and as more and more noticed him, G’eldaere noticed us as well.

“I am going to need you to belay those orders,” she said in Common. “My son had returned. My hatchling, what has happened to you?

“The same thing that happened when you sent me to the academy,” Rylan replied in a voice cold and angry and with an accent I’d never heard him use before.

“Well. This worked out for the best. You can come home now.”

“We had a deal . . .”

“And the deal still stands,” Kam interjected.

G’eldaere looked at Rylan as she talked.

“This is between me and my son.”

“You will not speak down to him or anyone else in my party in my presence.”

“Who did this?” She asked, nonplussed.

“My cousin, the First Blade, just like before.”

“And where is he now?”

Kam threw down the Blade’s sword.

“Among the kindling.”

“That was not your decision . . .”

“The ashes will be returned to me.”

“And in return you may choose your bride,”

“That was already the deal. This changes nothing.” And then Rylan tried to explain the First Blade’s treachery.

“This is not the first time such a thing has happened. I would have dealt with it.”

“Yet I will still pick my spouse. Don’t make me name you Oathbreaker to my lady Titania of the summer knights.”

G’eldaere raised a hand to strike Rylan, but Kam caught her by the wrist.

“I could crush you boy,”

“Lay a hand on him and all the heavens will come down on your head, I promise you that.”

“Where was this spirit this last century?”

“Perhaps you weren’t paying attention.”

G’eldaere had had enough and tried to strike Rylan with a guiding bolt.

Rylan countered with a channel of divinity, ensnaring her. “Darling mother. You would dare hurt your one and only heir in public? Striking him while unarmed and without armor? A paladin of Titania no less?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have the spouse of your choosing.” She snarled.

“Of course. I have broken nothing. Don’t you love me mama? I will marry the firstborn royal of a kingdom comparable to yours. But strike me and you will have declared war on the Summer Knights, and I will not hold them back, not even for you.”

“Release me and I guarantee you safe passage.”

“Mama, I am heartbroken,” but he waved off the spell.

G’eldaere breathed easier. “You are right. I overstep my boundaries. Forgive your mother for being so concerned.”

Rylan nodded, once and short.

“Water under the bridge, then. Is there anything my hatchling needs?”

“Your hospitality is appreciated but unneeded, madam.”

“I am your only mother. Forgive me. And your friends, I beg their forgiveness as well. I should not lose my temper in front of people. You may go if you wish.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

We turned without another word.

Kam picked up the sword and couldn’t resist a poke. “You’re welcome for the messenger.”

She looked down her nose at him. Kam noticed something around her eyes.

“Doesn’t she look tired?” he asked.

Rylan gave a whistle, and Brioche flew from Kam to his shoulder. Her first flight.

Turning away from the Matron, Kam took Rylan’s hand in her full view.

G’eldaere waited until we were out of sight before gliding to her tent, standing before her mirror, and cutting deep into the reflection with her claws.

“I’m going to pay for that,” Rylan said to himself and all of us at the same time.

We made our way back to the tower; the going was easier this time.

Examining the ground floor more fully, Aniel discovered a pillar of light.

“A magical lift to the second floor,” he explained.

Ana looked around.

“If I stay any longer he’ll know,” she said to Thea.

“Then you have to go,” she replied.

“I’ll always be scrying.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

Then, to Kam: “I helped you get your heart back. Perhaps one day you can help me?”

And then, examining Lindor she said “Walking Corpse Syndrome. He thinks he’s dead.”

Ruinfea shed a tear.

“I’ll do what I can for him.”

And then she was gone.

#### *Rest and Recovery*

##### *Thea and Bryn*

Their mission to rescue Rylan had been successful in that they had accomplished bringing their boy back, but Thea had a feeling the experience weighed heavy on all of them, especially Rylan. What he had been through, the things the First Blade had done to him, she couldn't fathom. Her heart hung heavy for him, and she didn't know how to make things better or if she even could. For now she would give him space and time to heal in his own way.

There was so much for her to process, and she found it easiest to sort through her thoughts by focusing on tasks she could control. Right now it was getting out of her armor and getting something hot to drink. Then she'd take to sorting out her tangle of a braid. Putting these things to rights would bring her back some sort of normalcy.

She shrugged out of her leathers and wrapped up in a soft tunic. The tower had proved to be inhospitable but with some effort the small room she found could be made comfortable enough. It was dusty but had a small fire place, large enough to chase the chill from the tight space. Within moments she had a mug of steaming tea and was busying herself with untangling her hair.

Bryn had returned to the tower largely lost in thought. The mission had been a success, and for that she was glad, but it was obvious much had already changed. She wondered what Kam thought of her taking on the First Blade with him. Not that she had helped much beyond her initial lashing out in rage, and it was clear he’d been far beyond her own power to take down, but . . . There was some small part of her that had enjoyed it. It had not been mere justice that brought her happiness, but seeing the spray of the blood, knowing it had hurt him . . . she had felt a kind of pleasure in that – and it frightened her. She wondered what effect Oghma’s presence and Ilsensine’s desire were having on her. Perhaps she would have to guard herself if they had determined to make her mind their personal battlefield.

She wondered what they might do to help Rylan. They had helped his physical pain, but the emotional distress . . . and his family . . . Kam apparently knew Rylan better than any of them. Leave it to him for now; let Rylan talk when he was ready.

She found a tub and, using her bottle, filled it with cold, clear water. She’d done this before, washing blood out of her clothes. But never this much, and never more than a few minutes old. She wondered, briefly, what she must look like covered head-to-toe in the reddish-brown remnants of the First Blade. Apart from wiping the mist from her eyes, she’d let it stay where it was. There had been more important things to do and take care of.

She managed to rummage in her bag and took out her old set of clothes. She might be more familiar with the party, but the thought of walking about naked for several hours was just a bit too much – despite her risqué wordplay, she was rather shy when it came to her own specifics.

It was as she began readying herself that she encountered a difficulty: the blood had dried into the joints of her armor so that, while she could move about just fine, the movements necessary to remove the layers would be impossible without help.

\*Godsdamn\*, she thought to herself. \*Well, there’s nothing for it.\*

It hadn't been but 15 minutes since beginning the chore of taking down her hair when Thea heard someone in a nearby room. Her ears perked up as she listen to the person struggle with their armor. She put her tea down and tied her hair back with a bit of leather. It was no use fussing with her hair until she could take a proper bath. The knots would have to wait.

She padded her way down the hall, and knocked softly on the door.

“Hello?” Bryn called, hesitatingly. “Who’s there?”

She took a step back from the door. Bryn wasn't who she was expecting but then again, she didn't know who else she thought it would be.

"Um... it's Thea." She took a deep breath and continued. "Everything alright in there?" She hugged herself, standing in the chilly hallway, eyes fixed on the door before her.

“I’ve . . . I seem . . .”

Bryn didn’t know what to say. She had talked with Thea last night, but would this be too much? Then again, if she didn’t ask for help, she was likely to stay in this state for some time.

“It appears that I am stuck and can’t get out of my clothes to get cleaned up.”

On their way back from the fight, Thea had been so wrapped up in her own mind she hadn't paid much attention to the state the others were in. She hadn't even begun to process the help her aunt had given them, let alone what she had learned about herself. Before she knew it, Ana had been gone. Now however, her eyes fell on Byrn's small frame. She saw the blood dried all over her. The gnome must have been in the thick of it.

"I... see." Her voice was low as she took in the gore. "Do you... do you need help then?"

Bryn paused for a moment.

“A bit, I think?

This isn’t mine, by the way. I might not have torn him apart, but gods if it didn’t half look like it.

I think if you can just help me with the top part I can get the rest. I don’t want to impose . . . or make you uncomfortable, for that matter - but I just can’t seem to move right, you know? It’s like the dress back in Morad . . . but not as pretty.”

Thea entered the room and closed the door behind her. "I'm glad to know it's not your blood. I can guess who it belonged to though." She rolled up her sleeves, hoping to save her clean shirt from getting anything on it. With nimble fingers she began to peal Bryn's cloak off her back and to undo the fasteners of her armor.

"It's difficult to make me truly uncomfortable... " She stepped back to let the gnome continue what she had started.

Bryn didn’t realize just how uncomfortable she had been until she felt the weight shift and the pressure release. Gods this would be a chore.

“I’m sorry, I meant no offense. It’s just that sometimes my jokes . . . anyway, that’s all they are: jokes. Stuff I picked up from reading and listening to people. Not like I actually know any of it from experience.”

She placed the cloak and jacket carefully in the tub for the water to start doing its own natural magic.

“I think I’ve got it from here. I mean, if you want to stay you can stay. I wouldn’t say no to company.

But once I get the stains out of this, well, . . . at some point we’ve got to take care of ourselves, too . . . and I don’t want to keep you from whatever you need to do.

It was nice meeting your aunt, by the way. She seems to know quite a bit; I had hoped to see more of her.”

Bryn shifted somewhat awkwardly. She was in more of a state of undress than she was necessarily comfortable with, yet Thea didn’t seem put off. She was glad for the help, but just didn’t know what the situation called for.

In other circumstances she’d be stuffing her face with cheese or bread, neither of which were at hand.

She decided to just wait and follow Thea’s lead.

Thea noted the clothes soaking in the tub. "Yeah, I still need to sort out the nest that is my hair at the moment." She retreated a bit, giving Bryn a bit of space. "I can stay if you'd like. Or you're welcome to join me once you've cleaned up a bit. I have a fire going in a few doors down. I could brew some coffee and set your hair if you'd like." She felt the awkwardness rolling off her friend and didn't want to make her more uncomfortable.

Bryn smiled at that.

“I just . . . this isn’t the way I’d imagined spending more time with you. The offer of sharing your fire sounds . . . well, it sounds just what I need. When I’m a bit cleaner of course.”

Bryn paused.

“And . . . and if it’s not to much to ask . . . would you mind doing something with my hair? I’ve watched you with Rylan and with Ruinfea . . . and when you were looking for some of his hair earlier I remember thinking it could only be his because you’d never brushed my hair and . . .”

Bryn’s voice trailed off and stopped for a moment. When she spoke again, the words came out in a rush.

“and I just think I’m ready for that and after our talk I’m so relieved to know we’re friends but it always seems like I’m asking for something!”

Thea leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. She was glad Bryn wanted her to do her hair. It made her heart lift a little. This was something she was good at and she was happy to help. "Will you tell me what happened during the battle?" Her voice was low as she asked the question. "I know it might be hard to revisit it..." She paused for a moment, knowing what she was asking. "But I just want to know what you all walked into." She in no way regretted staying behind with Ana to take on the soldiers, but she wasn't there when the party found Rylan and she needed to know what they had seen.

Bryn turned to the tub. “If you don’t mind my scrubbing while I talk . . .”

Thea angled herself away from the tub. "Not at all."

Bryn went to work and began to tell Thea what had happened.

“I don’t know what you and your Aunt Ana and Loray and Aniel did, but it’s the only reason we succeeded. The camp seemed empty. Ruinfea helped guide us to Rylan thanks to her scrying. Kam made it clear he was going after the First Blade; I told him I was going with him. You remember me telling you I had an idea? I still wanted to try it, and Kam seemed the best person to stick with at the time . . .

Meanwhile, Ruinfea and Fuego were going to go free Rylan while we had the Blade distracted.  We snuck up on him and could hear what he was saying. He was mocking Rylan, saying that even if we could find him there’d be little left by the time we got to him. He was casually drinking a bottle of wine, like this was all just some kind of light entertainment!

Kam struck first, and if he hadn’t I think things would have gone much differently, because seeing the Blade’s reaction . . . there’s no way I could have stood up to him. But Kam took it and then . . . I drew blood from his body. Well, I guess I drew the water from his body, which brought the blood with it. Remember what happened in Little Grove? It was kinda like that, but not. It was like a bright red cloud . . .

I don’t know why he didn’t try to attack me, but he stayed focused on Kam, who grabbed him by the throat and . . . well . . . he kept on sucking life from his body. I tried to hit him a few times and missed, but I did manage to smack him with my spiritual weapon – which I made to look like a wine bottle, by the way.

Your aunt’s fire wall did it’s damage too, and eventually, though he kept trying to break Kam’s grip, he just . . . shriveled and died.

The rest of the camp must’ve figured something was wrong because they came around the corner just as he struck the killing blow and, seeing their commander dead, just . . . stopped.

Meanwhile, Fuego and Ruinfea had found Rylan and between the two of them they broke down the cage door and broke the chains off the wall.  And that’s about the time the rest of you showed up . . .”

By this point the blood appeared to have lifted from the clothes in the tub, and Bryn drew them out to dry properly.

Thea stood stunned as the details of the victory flowed from Bryn's lips. Though she was devastated by the state they had found Rylan in, she couldn't help but feel a bit of pride in the way her family worked together to achieve their goal, even Kam. She couldn't deny he cared for Rylan and she had to weigh that fact against her distrust of him. He had proven again that he could hold his own in a fight and that he was on their side. At least in this case.

She was quiet for a long time as the information hit her and cracked a smile at the thought of Bryn wielding a wine bottle. "Clever clever."

Bryn smiled at her friend’s praise.

“And that’s how I came to be a bloody spectacle struggling in a relatively unused room of a necromancer’s tower.”

She looked down.

“I’ve still the bottoms to do . . . if you wanted to stay and tell your half of things . . . but I understand if this this too . . . intimate.”

Bryn had grown comfortable as she talked. There was work to do, with nothing more implied. They were both women, doing what had to be done. If she felt embarrassed, she need only remember her conversation with  Oghma . . .

“I can put something on. It’ll get wet but not soaked . . . well, hopefully.”

Thea's eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall before her. With her back to Bryn she admittedly couldn't see anything 'important.' She was perfectly fine with Bryn going about her business. "Oh no it's fine."

She waiting for a moment, then began telling her friend about what happened in the field.

"I've sort of known I had a protector in the back of my mind, but honestly I had no idea it was Ana..." It was difficult for her to admit this. That this relative stranger had stepped into her life and it felt as though they had known one another all along. "She's my mother's sister. I had no idea how powerful she is, and I don't think things would have gone as smoothly." She laughed softly to herself, not because she thought it was funny, but because she had no other reaction to give. "She took on half those Drow by herself, and the ones that fell... she made them stand back up and begin fighting for us."

“You mean . . . zombies?”

"Basically yes. Hostile zombies that began fighting with their fellow soldiers as soon as they rose back up." She hadn't had much experience with zombies, this being her first time seeing the in person.

“Oh . . . well . . . please go on; I’m sorry I interrupted.”

"That's sort of it. As we struck them down, they'd rise up again to begin fighting on our side. It was terrifying and incredible at the same time. I've never seen someone with that much power." She stopped for a moment. "Once they were laid waste, we came running to the camp."

“That’s . . . That is . . . you were right. Your aunt is a protector, and an impressive one, it seems.”

Thea rested her shoulder against the rough stone of the wall. "I just... yeah she is."

Bryn finished with her pants and began draining the tub.

“Just hang on . . .”

She found her bag and drew out her robes. Oghma forgive her, but it’s what she had on hand. Donning them quickly but carefully, she said

“Ok. There. It’s safe for you to look now.”

Thea turned around to find Bryn in her robes. "I think you still have blood in your hair."

Bryn blushed a bit, if it could be seen under the muck still on her face.

“Well I haven’t washed it yet and . . . I didn’t think you were staying for that part? . . . But if you were . . .”

Bryn felt a bit nervous, not wanting to offend her friend but also not wanting to misread the situation. If Thea wanted to stay that’d be fine, but she also needed to take care of herself, didn’t she?

"Oh!" Thea blushed. Of course she hadn't actually bathed yet... "Right..." She grinned and made for the door. "I'll be in the other room. Come find me when you're done. The coffee will be waiting." With that she slipped out and closed the door behind her.

Making her way back to her fire, she stoked it, and made herself busy brewing the coffee. It was a drink she herself didn't have a taste for but she knew Bryn preferred it over tea.

Bryn smiled as the door closed behind Thea, and let out a small sigh of relief. Things hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but they could’ve been worse. She even had an invitation to sit by the fire!

She drew fresh water from her bottle. The coldness wasn’t too cold, but rather a welcome relief after the heat she’d felt that day. As she plunged her face into the tub she thought again of the cloud that had caused this mess.

And then, as best she could, she washed her hair, at least until the water started running clear.

Putting on her old outfit, she made her way to where Thea said her room was and knocked softly on the door.

“Thea? Is this you?”

Thea sat on the floor before her tiny fire. Keeping it alive with whatever spare things she could find in the room. While she waited for Bryn, she brushed out her hair and set it into her usual braid. Her eyes fell on the flames as she worked. She lost herself in thought for a while, contemplating the things she had learned about herself from her Aunt, realizing what it meant about her parents and her life so far.

"Thea? Is this you?"

"Come on in."

Bryn opened the door, entered, and gently closed it behind her. She smiled a genuine smile - at the fire, at the smell of coffee in the air, at her \*friend\*.

She motioned towards her hair. “I . . . I didn’t know what I was supposed to do . . . But I know you’ll do your usual magic.”

"Come and sit." Thea set a mug of coffee beside her and motioned for Bryn to sit before her. She then dug in her bag for her brush and hair oil.

Bryn sat, hoping she’d washed her hair well enough.

“Thank you. You’ve done so much for me already . . . Is there anything I can do for you . . . ?”

She picked up her brush and began combing through Bryn's fine white hair. "I haven't really done much." She thought for a moment. Bryn had healed her at the camp and had been at her side through much of their journey. That was enough for her.

“You helped me when Adrian Oakengrove died, and when I couldn’t bring back Raffin Whane. You backed me up in Spriggan and kept me from drowning in the Dreamscape. You hauled me over the rooftops of Dewport and together we infiltrated the prison of the Seelie Court of Corals. And when I needed it most . . . when I needed it most . . . you held my hand. You held my hand when we walked through that portal. You held my hand when we were planning Rylan’s rescue. You’ve been there when I’ve needed you. And I know our friendship isn’t about keeping score - or at least I know that now - but to say you haven’t done much? Without your support I don’t think any of us would’ve made it this far.

I guess I just want to thank you in some way, but I’m not very good at figuring out what people will appreciate.”

Thea paused mid-brush. She just didn't think of these things as doing something for someone. To her it was what needed to be done, and that was it. They were together in those moments, none of them needed to face these things alone. She thought for a moment before speaking. "Every one of those moments has a reverse side. Yes I backed you up in Spriggan and all of those things, but you were also there for me. I held your hand through the portal yes because you needed to face it with someone by your side, but also because I needed someone by my side too." She began brushing again, sectioning Bryn's hair to begin an intricate braid.

Bryn paused for a moment, thinking about how best to say what was on her mind.

“But . . . but . . .”

She stopped.

“In the last seventy-eight years I can count on one hand the number of times someone has willingly touched me. I was something to be . . . fearfully tolerated, right? So to have this group, this Third Family, just come in and say ‘that’s it. You’re one of us now.’ - that is something new and . . . kind of frightening, to be honest.

Because I’m constantly waiting for the thing that’ll end it all. And I don’t want it to end, it want it to last. And I will fight anyone that tries to tear us apart, even when I know I’m an imperfect friend.”

Thea put her brush down, and completed the braid, tying it off at the end with a bit of leather as she had done with her own. She contemplated what Bryn had said about how people were unwilling to touch her. What that meant for her childhood and adult life. Thea couldn't think of  time when her parents weren't hugging her, or teaching her something. Her mother telling her stories or her father's steady hands showing her fingerings for her lute. She felt a tightness in her chest. Her life had been so full of love and it pained her to think of what Bryn had been through.

She shifted to be beside Bryn, catching her friends eye. "I know that feeling, waiting for the final hammer to fall."

Bryn felt Thea finish, and then turned her head as she came to her side. The braid offered her a new feeling and a kind of balance, and she liked it.

“What can we, or what can I, do to stop it?”

"I don't know..." Thea gave her friend a soft smile. "I honestly don't but I know if we stick together we can face whatever comes our way." She felt that in her soul. She had no idea what was coming next, but they would deal with it when it showed up.

“So what do we do now?” Bryn asked in a slightly happier tone.

“I mean, we did promise we’d spend more time together. And you’ve made coffee and tea and there’s a fire going . . . I mean, that is, if it’s all right with you of course. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to; just watch the fire. Just be together, or at least not be alone.”

"I think not being alone sounds good." She gave her friend a pat on the shoulder, "If you don't mind I think I'll tinker with a song I've been working on. Feel free to enjoy the warmth while it lasts."

She drew out her lyre and sheet music, and settled back against the wall. She didn't mind not talking but she appreciated Bryn's company all the same.

Bryn smiled as Thea began to play. What Thea modestly called tinkering would put most other musicians to shame - in Bryn’s opinion at least.

\*Overall,\* she thought \*this has been good\*. As she wondered what the next day would bring, she felt her eyes growing heavy. She set down her empty mug.

\*Just a few minutes more,”\* she thought. \*i don’t want to leave\* just \*yet.\*

And that was the last thing she remembered before Thea’s melody and sweet sleep overtook her, a smile still on her face.

##### *Fuego and Ruinfea*

Yes, they were back at the tower; Rylan was with them; and they were back together in some form or another. Ruinfea knew she needed to find Loray, but knew he was healing up and probably needed some him time.

She decided to go look for Fuego. She needed to thank him for the encouragement the other night and to get some things off her chest.

Fuego was standing in the main room looking at the charred remains of the table from his ‘chat’ with his Patron. He was holding a broom, probably an odd sight, but he wanted to clean the mess he had made.

“Hi, Fuego, mind a little help and a chat?” Ruinfea saw another broom leaning against the wall and grabbed it not waiting for an answer about the help.

“Somehow I don’t think you’d let me say no to the help.” He replied as he lofted the chair he had kicked earlier. “What’s no your mind?”

She smiled as she began sweeping. “Well first of all, I wanted to thank you for being there for me the other night. I’m a bit embarrassed I fell asleep. That doesn’t normally happen, but I guess with everything my body was done for the moment.” She reached down and picked up a piece of charred wood. Wow what in the world had happened here. She didn’t really care as it was none of her business, it was just a thought she had as she was helping.

Fuego smiled softly, “No need to be embarrassed, your body was telling to rest, so you did.” He watched as she examined the charred wood, while he swept.

“I also realized we haven’t actually had a proper chat since we met and that is all on me.” At this she looked down at the small leather pouch. Would Fuego think she was weird? No, he was family and family accepts your weirdness. “I don’t know how much you’ve picked up from certain conversations and the lovely exchange with my parents...”

Fuego stopped sweeping and thought for a moment, had they not had a proper chat. These past several weeks have been filled with such adventure, wonder and unfortunately sorrow. He lost himself briefly before returning to the task at hand.

He looked to Ruinfea, “I’ve gathered your ...”  he paused trying not to show the disgust he had towards how her parents treated her. He would never treat his children like that. Did he have children, Fuego thought for a moment before continuing, “parents are problematic.”

Problematic was definitely a nice way of referring to them. “Well they have always been horrible people with thoughts and ideas I didn’t follow.” She knew Fuego had heard this but it was important to her story. “I left and did my own thing and that was when I met Kava. This is the main reason I have had a hard time talking to you, Fuego. You see...Kava was a Dragonborn.” She paused a second to see what his reaction to this would be. “She was a green Dragonborn and a monk. She was brilliant and wonderful and just everything to me.” Come on, she said to herself, don’t get choked up. Yes, he’s seen you cry before but get a grip.

He leaned gently on the broom listening and gave a nod of understanding when she mentioned Kava was a Dragonborn. He also noticed she was speaking in a past tense that had a weight about it.

“Such a loss is hard to speak of, the hurt  ... means they are an important part of who we where and who we are yet to be.” He said as if subconsciously he knew from personal grief.

“I’d be honored if you wanted to tell me more about her. She sounds like she is important to you.”

“She was/is which is why I found it difficult at times to even look at you as all the memories would flood back. I know that sounds weak, but at that point I just couldn’t. She was the only Dragonborn I had ever known and honestly meeting you was a shock. I never met anyone from her family either. I’m not even sure where they are or if they even know what happened to her.” Ruinfea got a weird look on her face as she decided whether or not to tell Fuego how much she had wanted to be with Kava. “As a high elf, from a family that was anti-everyone else, i was in love with a Dragonborn. Sometimes if felt like I shouldn’t have even been allowed to love Kava knowing my past and how I had been in her younger years. Maybe that’s why I never got up the courage to tell Kava how I truly felt.”  Wow, did that all just come flooding out of her mouth. It was actually more than she anticipated saying. She should have talked to Fuego sooner. It was like talking to a long known friend and she felt comfortable telling him these things she had kept bottled up inside herself since they had met.

Fuego listened intently, “Out pasts can help or hinder our current or even future actions.” Fuego was amused at the irony of him saying that.

“It sounds like in spite of your past you choose to let kindness and compassion guide you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, “I may not have known Kava, but I am sure she knew how you felt about her. You treated her as an equal when others may not have.”

“Thanks for that. She died before I could tell her. I was so busy trying to save her that I missed the opportunity. Going into battle together, even as a rescue team, reminded me of working with Kava. Honestly it was like a little light was shining.” She chuckled at this cause Fuego was always lighting stuff on fire. “You certainly know how to bring the light! I know there are many battles ahead, and I’m glad I can fight by your side. Makes Kava feel a little alive again.”

Fuego was glad to see Ruinfea’s spirts being lifted, smiling as she complimented his propensity for fire. “I’m sure our journey,” he motioned as if to include everyone. “may be hard at times, but we are on it together. I honestly couldn’t think of anyone else I’d like to share that with.”

He glanced down at the tables remains realizing between the two of them, they managed to sweep everything together.

“So...what exactly happened here? If you’d rather not say, that’s fine too.” She just couldn’t imagine anything good having happened with all the charred remains.

“I ...  I let out some steam before we left to rescue Rylan.” He said not lifting his gaze. “I was angry and needed to let something out before I was gonna explode.” He closed his eyes replaying his conversation with Sairché.

“How does it feel?” Fuego asked as he blinked away tears that had started to form. “When you, wild shape?” He specified.

Ruinfea could tell that wasn’t the whole story, but she was glad for even a small bit. She had started being able to read her companions faces and mannerisms. She also noticed the tear in his eye and could feel the pain. Levity seemed the best way to go right now.

“Well you definitely let something explode on this table.” She laughed. “Of course there are plenty of tables so I guess if you ever need a round two you know where to go!” She cracked herself up with this and even though it really wasn’t super funny the whole weight of everything that had happened had decided to come out in laughter. Another weird side affect from everything.

When he asked her about wild shaping it kinda took her aback. “Honestly it’s just like breathing at this point. At first it was super weird, especially going from this form to something smaller. I will say the hardest of the forms so far would have to be the giant constrictor. I had so much length I hardly knew what to do with it. Of course after all this practicing I realized I’m at a level I can fly now. So more options are opening up and that should be a whole other feeling. Honestly I used to use it as a coping mechanism when I didn’t want to deal or speak. I don’t know if you noticed but I stay in the form a lot shorter time than I did when we began this journey. That’s a lot thanks to this family.” She remembered the first time she had become a chameleon with the Third Family. She had always used it to hide and here she was using it to actually do some good.

Fuego appreciated that Ruinfea did not pry. He knew everyone would understand, but this was just something he had to keep close to his chest. He would let that barrier down when it was time.

It was good to see her laugh and smile. Sharing her experiences with wild shape was interesting. It sounded as if it was second nature to her. “I had noticed you hanging around in your true form more often.” He paused for a moment, “These forms you take, you have to have seen them right? In person or would from books or drawings work?”

“As long as I have seen them in some form or another I can become them. It’s interesting to say the least. There are plenty of forms I haven’t had the chance to use so we will see what happens. I mean I have all those new shroom dragons to become! That could definitely come in handy if we have to deal with more spiders!” She shuttered at the thought of Rylan’s mom being so angry with him.

“What do you think will happen with Rylan’s mom? She seemed pretty pissed. I’m proud of Rylan for standing up for himself and Kam is growing on me for all that he is willing to risk for Rylan.”

“I don’t like the fact that she was fully prepared to strike him in front of us.” His tone had shifted slightly. “A parents job is to protect search children tell her dying breath and to do everything in their power to leave the world better off for them. To do anything else would be doing a disservice to their ancestors.”

“I think Kam showed us, who he really is tonight. Between helping rescue Rylan and standing between him and his mother.” Fuego couldn’t fathom how fast Kam had moved.

“I just hope she doesn’t decide to make things harder for us as we get this ‘godly’ mess sorted out with Civar.”

“Well I am prepared to take her on if we need to. She will not get Rylan and force him to do as she wants if I have any say in the matter. All she seems to care about is a female heir being born. If she can’t handle that her son needs to live his own life then she needs to go.” Thinking about Rylan’s mom made her blood boil. Why were some parents just the worst kind.

“I get parents trying to force their will on you. I’ve dealt with that my whole life as well. Of course I don’t have a mom like Rylan does. His mom seriously has issues.” With that her face got really red. Clearly Rylan cares a lot about Kam. She knew the look that Rylan gave Kam and there was no way she was going to allow his mom to force him to be with anyone he didn’t want to be with. “Well I can tell you this, she will have to deal with me if she wants to hurt Rylan in any kind of way.”

“With all of us in Rylan’s corner, she’ll be surprised what we’re capable of.” Fuego thought for a moment, “What is the deal with her unhealthy obsession of Rylan gathering a heir. That is weird, right?”

“All I can figure is that she wants a female heir. Once one is born, I honestly don’t think she’d care much about Rylan anymore. It’s like the only thing she cares about is that heir. I mean what would happen if Rylan did what she wanted and only had boys. What would that demon woman do then? I don’t blame Rylan for not wanting to do what she says, and clearly spider face is going to be upset when she realizes it ain’t happening. So we better be ready for when that day comes.” Ruinfea picked up another charred piece of wood from the floor. “Whatever happens I am prepared to do what it takes to help him. I’m tired of being the one that people sacrifice themselves for. I’m ready to be the courageous one”

Fuego watched as Ruinfea sifted through the cinders and charred remains of the table picking up the occasional piece of charred wood. How she had grown over their adventure. He couldn’t help but feel proud of her, even if his attempt at humor went unnoticed.

“It’s because for her it’s all about ‘power’ and ‘tradition’. Rylan shatter’s those ideas, like A High-elf falling for someone outside their race.” Fuego said as he knelt down next to her.

“We are all exceptions to the ‘stereotype’ and that is difficult for many to understand let alone comprehend.” Picking up a chunk of charred table, “I think all of us would be willing to walk through hell for one and other.”

Ruinfea chuckled “We may just end up doing that anyway at this point.” Who knew where this journey was going to take them from here. Thinking about the future made her remember that she needed to go see Loray. Hopefully he had, had time to clean up and recoup a little from the battle. She wasn’t sure exactly how bad he had been hurt because her soul focus had been Rylan at that time, but she could remember him not looking too great. “When we get done here I am going to go find Loray and make sure he is ok. I haven’t talked to him since before we left him at the battle.” She continued sweeping and gather the remains from the floor. She was so glad to have had this time to spend with Fuego especially time where she wasn’t just crying.

‘Where this journey was going’ that gave Fuego a moment of reflection. What did their future hold. He hopped at least that in time he would have some idea, after he remembered his past of course.

“I like Loray, he’s quite the interesting fellow.” He said as he held the dustpan for Ruinfea, “Quite the dashing one at that.” He added with a bit of a teasing smirk.

“You aren’t wrong about that! I do like him a lot, and he likes me too. We will see what happens. I mean he is a free spirit after all!”

“I just happy to see you happy.” He said scooping up the debris. “You more then deserve it. Everyone should have someone that makes them feel special.”

She smiled at this and then felt a little bad cause Fuego’s past was such a mystery to him. “I hope you are able to find out more of your history soon. You deserve happiness in your life as well!” With that she dumped the dustpan into a bucket. “I think I will head on out and look for Loray. Unless you need me to stick around. I think this stuff is pretty much cleaned up.” She was glad she had come to help Fuego not only to talk with him but to spend time. “Glad I helped with this before getting cleaned up myself.” Ruinfea brushed ash and soot off of her hands. Maybe getting cleaned up before seeing Loray would be a better idea. She could definitely use a moment of relaxation and cleanliness! As she headed through the doorway to find a room she could use, she turned back around and waved and smiled at Fuego. “I’ll see you a bit later, try not to make any more messes while I’m gone.”

Fuego smiled, he genuinely appreciated Ruinfea’s kind words. “Thank you.” He said leaning the broom back against the wall. “I mean it, for your help and kindness.”

“Go, get cleaned up and see Loray. I’m sure seeing you will brighten his evening.” He added giving Ruinfea a gentle shewing motion.

##### *Ruinfea and Loray*

Ruinfea left Fuego with a smile on her face at his last comment. She headed to a room that was free and began to get clean. She figured at least a change of clothes and a bit of hair fixing couldn’t hurt. She was able to get some water and clean as best she could in this odd place. She was glad she had gone with the dark outfit to get Rylan as that had helped keep her other pieces clean. After getting cleaned up and finally looking presentable,at least better than it was, she packed everything back in the bag. Putting her necklace back on, she grabbed her bag and headed down the hall to look for Loray. This place was so big she wondered if she would be able to find him.

When the group had gotten back to the Tower, Loray was initially resistant to the idea of staying in one of the rooms on the upper levels. Earlier in the day, he had used his tent, and had offered a space for anyone else who had wanted to use it. The Tiny Hut spell on the tent allowed a somewhat secure place to rest in what was an otherwise insecure place. He had every intention of using it again, even as he understood that other people would need better accommodations. Rylan's request for a bath, for example, were beyond the tent's capabilities. As time went on, though, it looked like more and more members of the party were preferring the tower. It was probably for the best. He had no idea if the item had technically recharged anyway.

So when Ruinfea found him, he was wandering the second floor of the tower, peeking his head into the rooms that were obviously unoccupied. Simple enchantments kept the rooms mostly clean, which was par for the course on these kind of places. If he heard her coming, he gave no indication to it.

Ruinfea rounded the corner and saw Loray looking into the rooms. “Hey, how are you feeling?” She was worried about him as she hadn’t actually talked to him since the battle.

How did he feel...? That was a good question. Today had been... well.. He had not been there when the first group had gone into the camp. In fact, he had stayed back to help and make sure that group one made it in without any hangups. Had he been expecting to see Rylan has bad off as he was? Academically, yes. He had seen some terrible things in his long years. He was not sheltered.... But he also know his friend would never want him to slip into winter for his sake. So when he turned around, it was with genuine happiness on his features. "I got into a fight, reconnected briefly with an old friend, and got to help bring another one home. And now, you are here! So all in all, happy. And you?"

“Glad to have Rylan back. And happy to see you are ok. I was worried cause we heard some crazy noises from your area of the battle. I was trying to focus on getting Rylan, but of course you were in the back of my mind.” She gave him a wink. “So sometime, when things die down, you will have to tell me about your old friend!” She looked at him inquisitively but also with a little flirty to let him know she wasn’t too concerned about Ana.

When you live so long there are many things in your past and not everything needs to be said.

"Well, I mean, it \*got crazy.\* I saw an army of Drow completely turn on each other because half of them were turned into zombies promptly after they had been electrocuted. Not sure if you heard the lightning or the zombies." He read her expression as closely as she could when it came to Ana. He half expected her to get jealous, but when she clearly wasn't taking it in that direction, he relaxed. Loray was far too experienced to know how anyone would react to anything.

"But you are just in time to help me pick out a room. Preferably one with a soft mattress for my delicate sensibilities," he said not without his own element of snark.

“Oh, delicate sensibilities is it?” She said in a copy-cat way but adding a little sing-song sound in her voice. “Well the only rooms I’ve seen so far contained a table charred to ash and a room with a washing up area. So I guess the hunt is on!” She skipped up to where he was and peered into the room. “This one just doesn’t scream your name I would think. Best keep looking.” Honestly the room was fine but that meant the flirty search was over and she wanted a bit more time with Loray. She knew she eventually needed to talk to Rylan, but knew he needed some time to deal with all that happened.

This time she grabbed Loray’s hand and started making their way to look at the next room. “Let’s see what the other rooms have to offer for you.”

"Yes, I will have you know that I have very delicate hips! And it sounds like you have already had an entertaining house tour," Loray said, taking stock of the description she already gave. When she took him by the hand, he felt just the tips of his fingers weave into hers. How many times had this been her view? Him taking her by the hand and leading her down some path? The reverse of roles was... nice... Unexpected, but he suspected he would be getting a lot of that when it came to Ruinfea.

"Doesn't matter which room, honestly. So long as you keep smiling the way you are. Lead on, Lady."

She continued smiling cause having her hand in his was a comfort, and it sent electricity up her arm. The other times he had grabbed her hand they were in the midst of battle and she honestly didn’t have time to let her feelings tell her anything like this. Plus she liked leading him around. “Delicate hips, you say? Well we will have to find you the most comfy bed we can won’t we. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to those hips.” She squeezed his hand as she said that and they continued down the hallway. Honestly some of these rooms were...creepy. Not somewhere she would want to stay, and definitely not a place that Loray would enjoy. “Were you able to get cleaned up after the battle?” Honestly it was weird to ever see Loray disheveled and most times she couldn’t have told that he had actually been fighting unless there was definite blood or dirt present. He always smelled good no matter what- like the salty ocean air and sweet honey. Honestly she didn’t know if that’s actually the way he smelled to other people or just her, but it was intoxicating for sure.

She asked him if he had been hurt... He had almost forgotten... he paused for a moment in the hallway. He looked at her apologetically. "Not exactly..."

With the sweep of his arms in one motion, he took off his long frock with a flourish, more out habit and less out of intent. The moment his coat was off, he draped it over his arm and presented himself.

His wounds were now obvious. His shirt was stained with sweat from the exertion. His left eye had a serious ring of bruises around it, and his lip had been split. He had bruises along his hands and not a small wound showing on his chest just below the line of his shirt. "Forgive me the deception...?"

When she saw the way he was hurt, her face fell. “Oh gods, we need to get you cleaned up and healed up. If I had noticed I wouldn’t have squeezed your hand so hard.” She took his hand in hers holding them lightly. “You should have told me. I can kiss your hands and make them feel better if you want?” A sly smile on her face. At this she noticed a perfect room for Loray. It wasn’t elaborate by any means, but there was a soft bed and a bowl with fresh water and some fabric pieces. “If you sit down, I will help wash off some of this, unless you’d rather do it yourself. I have no intention of doing anything you don’t want me to.” She wanted to make this very clear. Her goal here was to help him feel better from the battle. “I will gladly leave and let you have some time to yourself to deal with things if you need to. I know sometimes that’s helpful.”

Loray allowed a lazy albeit playful smile to cross his lips. "That was the idea, though, you see? To make it so you wouldn't notice." Seemings could be funny that way. He could be broken, bruised, and bloody, but as long as he had a seeming that had been constructed well enough, he could fool his own sister with how he looked. To be honest, he was surprised that Ruinfea wasn't more surprised. It hadn't been the gradual blooming of welts and marks. It was magic, and it was sudden. But she just took it in stride, and accepted it as reality, and to be honest, it helped. The fae could easily be tricked into thinking their magicks were realities, and that could be a very dangerous game indeed.

The flirtations were not lost on him, and they had an immediate effect on his heart. He let her guide him over to the bed, and then watched her as she started to fret, not only about his well being, but about his... consent? Loray hadn't really thought about it before when it came to himself. Sure, he tried to be cautious and aware of it from his side of things, but he had just generally assumed that no one ever needed to worry about it from him; that people just read him as an open book, and treated him that way.

" 'Fea," he said, using the nickname almost instinctively, and more than prepared to be told to never use it again. "You don't need to fret about those kinds of things. If you want to take care of me, I would be a foolish man to deny you."

Yes, she had noticed the magic, but it was Loray. He seemed to always have a plan of some kind. With him being a fae, she’d come to realize there were surprises around every corner with him. She couldn’t wait to see what else he could do, but right now she needed to get some herbs from her bag to help with the healing.

“You really had a number done on you, didn’t you? You don’t have to hide your pain from me. I do understand that it must help with others so they cannot see what has happened, but please don’t hide it from me no matter how bad, ok?” The last thing she needed was for him to become seriously hurt in battle and something happen where she could have helped but didn’t know.

She started mixing the herbs in a small bowl when she heard him call her ‘Fea. Had he actually given her a nickname. The way it rolled off his tongue made her heart skip a beat. “What did you just call me?” She said this sweetly and honestly just wanted to hear him say it again. Once he told her he didn’t mind her staying and helping which to be quite honest, this was not the response she thought she would get from Loray. What response she thought she would get, she didn’t quite know. It had only been a day or so since she told him she cared about him. She didn’t want to push things too quickly, but he was allowing her to stay and help. That was probably one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her. She cared about him so much and had no desire to ruin that ever.

She wet one of the cloths and started cleaning the blood off of his lip and the wound on his chest. “We need to get this cleaned out before adding the healing herbs. If i press too hard just let me know.” The way that wound looked on his chest was not looking good so that is what she decided to work on first. “This is a rough wound here.” She said out loud without meaning to.

Once she had cleaned out the wounds she started cleaning the bruises and the dirt on his face.

“I’m going to add the herbs now so it may sting a little.” She added the herbs to the wound and wrapped a long piece of cloth around him to keep the herbs and wound from the air. “We will change this later. I can put the herbs on your lip but you are going to have to be quite still.”

"It's not a matter of hiding, though," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and taking off his boots as Ruinfea started the process of mixing up the herbs. "Seemings are a different kind of magic, like..." He paused, trying to figure out a way to explain it. "It's like creating a new truth. Fae cannot lie, so magicks like illusions are a bit of a grey area. Instead, the magick creates a new reality, so in that moment, I truly do not believe that I am injured... and that can be dangerous... So, yes, they did a number on me.... but until you said something about it out in the hallway, it did not occur to me to check. I would have caught it later, but..." He shrugged, trying to make as light of it as he could. He didn't want anyone worrying about him or checking in on him for every bruise he may theoretically have. It was a worry best spent other places.

A smiled a warm smile when she caught the name. "I called you 'Fea,'" he said, allowing his lilt to roll over it. He watched her as she approached him, and settled in to mend his wounds up, and while he fell warm and happy to have her here, he could not keep from hissing at the pain in chest when she applied the herbs. It was a rough wound, one that he had earned from a Drow blade at the top of the fight, before the tides had turned more in their favor. His shirt was stained with his blood, the faint hue of gold almost looking like an intentionally aesthetic dye job instead of some sort of carnage.

He let her take care of him; a rare thing indeed, though she would hardly know that. His role in this world was to remain above others. As a Captain and in the courts, he could never allow himself to show weakness. The seeming was his shield, and few were allowed past it. "I am sure it is nothing that a good sleep couldn't fix," he said, though he paused when she mentioned his lips. "I trust you to administer them in the best way you see possible." There was a raised eyebrow with his words, and a slight, playful smirk, but nothing more. A tease, but a gentle one.

She added the herbs to his lips very gently. “If you smirk like that I can’t put the herbs on right!” She then booped his nose and winked. She was trying to be playful as she knew he was hurting. “Well I was going to go check on Rylan after I saw you and give him back his medallion, but honestly I don’t even know if he is up for company right now. I also wouldn’t mind just hanging out with you here for a while. If you want to lay down I can sit over in the chair and watch over you. I just don’t want to be alone.” She really wanted to stay with Loray. Knowing Rylan was ok made it easier to just be happy here with Loray right now. She moved the hair out of his face. “If you don’t mind me staying that is!”

Loray could not help but lean into the hand that was brushing the hair out of his features. Right before her movement would break contact, he brought his own hand up to keep it from moving too far away, lingering into that last bit of skin to skin contact, her fingers gently on the corner of his face.

When he spoke, there was a light tease in it, but it was a light sprinkling under another, more sincere tone. "No, please. Stay... I am dreadful at taking care of myself."

Once again that spark shot through her hand, and her heart fluttered. “Yes, I can see that you are! I will say that if you have a change of shirt it might be preferable to the one covered in your blood- even if it is a beautiful shade of gold. I can turn around while you change then you can rest.” She figured he could take care of himself but was glad he was allowing her to stay and watch over him.

##### *Kam and Rylan*

There were no words to explain the relief that blossomed in Rylan’s heart. Every moment came a new knowledge, a new sensation that he was alive and safe with the people who cared about him. Exhausted as he was, it didn’t matter. Here with his loved ones by his side and his hand in Kam’s he was untouchable. But he needed to rip the last bits of nightmares from his skin and he moved painfully slow to the strange magic that would bring him to the second floor with leaden legs, his right a blazing fire. And with it a fresh blush at the memory of one of his closest guarded secrets being laid bare.

Once upstairs, Rylan moved wooden to the bath his soul needed and he dug through his returned pack for his soaps and oils as the tub filled with water bordering on boiling. He didn’t think twice about if Kam was still staying nearby. Instead he began the process of trying to strip down once more, a mirror of only a day ago. His movements clumsy as he learned how to move his leg, all the while cursing to himself in Abyssal.

The second he could finally slip into the water, he awkwardly reached for a pair of scissors from his bag, desperate to at least even the mess his hair now was. He needed a distraction, and his ragged voice called out to the only person he felt safe being vulnerable near. His mind raced on what Kam’s actions could have meant and none of the possibilities made any sense to Rylan whatsoever.

Just a series of memories jumbled together in his mind; every small touch from their past aligned with him \*knowing\* what he did when he reset his leg... The pull at the thorn in his heart when he caught his mother’s arm. The way he took his hand felt like the sweetest benediction the paladin had ever known. There was too much for him to have hope and for the first time Rylan felt more than just boyish awkwardness but fear that he was misreading everything. But his tease kept playing back in his mind. Rylan was stalling but he didn’t know what else to do.

The singular thought that coursed through Kam's mind during everything that had just transpired was simply, protect Rylan. Not due to any sense of repaying a debt many a time over but simply instinct. It was that instinct that mindlessly stepped between The Matron and her 'Hatchling' As he cared not for her so called authority over anything. She held no power over him any longer, an it was clear, there was no more over Rylan. Yet it was on the opposite side of the same token that fear led him to take Rylans hand. If his mother were to strike him down the last thing he wanted to feel was Rylan.

Yet neither outcome happened, and they simply walked away back towards the tower. Kam knew that these wounds wouldn't heal over night, yet he also knew that the independence of space was needed for the time being. Whilst he gave the drow room, he wasn't far behind if he were to need him. For once Kam moved faster than Rylan.

Once they were alone, Kam still allotted for said space. Removing his own armor, tossing the weapons from the First blade to the side for the time being before he could decide what he wanted to do with them. Same with the skulls. A problem for later.

Yet when Rylan's voice rang out, horse, tired Kam was there like lightening. Leaning on the frame of the door where the bath was, taking a moment with his arms crossed to observe the damage done and what was already on the mend.  How he wanted to mourn for what Rylan was about to do, as he moved to kneel down near the edge of the tub. "Do you want some help evening that out? " He knew what it meant to him. What it hid and the growth it showed.

His hands were shaking, somehow there was something wrong with his ears. His pulse thundered too loud in them and everything sounded like he was underwater. His hand holding the scissors shook before he placed them back on the edge of the tub and wrapped his arms around his chest.

It was Kam’s voice that helped pull him back, adrift in his memories and he felt the barest hint of a smile return without needing to force it at all. The roaring was quiet, better, now that he was here. “Please, gods. I’ll look ridiculous if I do it myself.” There was a rasp to his voice that wasn’t there before, and the tension brought out by fear began to unknot his muscles.

While his back was a striped mess of old scars it was the new ones along his neck he wished he could be rid of. Rylan had come to his own terms about having anything around his neck and having that agency taken from him pissed him off more than anything.

“Thank you. For saving me. For being you... Now that they’re both dead, maybe I’ll sleep through the night.” There was an unspoken weight to his words as Rylan struggled to find a way to express what Kam meant to him without risking everything. He was terrified; twisted up inside convinced he was reading too much into everything. And the memory of one of his coping mechanisms being so publicly displayed was mortifying. Even just the memory had a purple blush burning across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry about the... leg thing...” He was grateful for the awkward distraction, if anything focusing and panicking over what they were and meant to one another meant he didn’t have the energy to fixate on what he survived.

As soon as it felt like Kam had fixed his hair, Rylan reached up. First to run grey fingers through the pale silver to get used to the length as he leaned back. Trying to get as close to Kam as he would let him. He didn’t know what to do or say. How could he risk everything that was so good on a maybe that was more?

Despite past appearances, Kam had learned a thing or two about keeping his hair short. In his opinion there was more versatility to it than Longer hair, with very little outside of pulling it back or braiding it but to each their own. Kneeling down at the edge of the tub Kam gently took the scissors from Rylan's hand, letting him relax. "I can do something with this"

He couldn't help but smirk at the trust as he began to get a general measurement. Pulling the length between his fingers before carefully snipping. "Anything particular in mind?"

Waiting a moment before continuing clipping, "I wasn't the one who saved you Rylan, I just kept him occupied. Your friend... family. They did that not me. "  He wasn't lying, really all he did was keep the First blade occupied while the others did the rest.

"The last thing I wanted for you was to come out of this alive and to have lost someone else dear to you. You don't have to talk about it but I know that look in your eye. I knew that calling your mother was enough to deal with, I didn't want to endanger any of them any more than they were already willing to." He couldn't help but be truthful about the ordeal. Now did he enjoy taking every ounce of life form the first blade. Absolutely.

His eyes fell about Rylan's form, the scars, the slight shade of purple that took to his ears, nose, cheeks. "Nothing to apologize for, now if you keep trying to talk yourself out of it then you'll have something to be sorry about" he spoke as he leaned forward besides rylan's face running his hand along the path that he'd smoothed out finally the last of it. Decent, it was a look, "If I wanted to leave Rylan I would have, but I'm still here. And im not going any where."

It was like clipping a hawk’s wings. Here with his head tilted down to stare unseeing at the water should have cascaded his hair over his shoulder. For years it was a comfort, a sign that he had been free for so long and now much like a fresh burn it prickled. Too much air was touching him where there should have been the old familiar weight of a braid or loose waves. It was such a stupid thing to care about but it was the only thing Rylan was letting himself be sorrowful over. It wasn’t as though the bastard had done anything new, save absolutely shattering his leg, but for some reason losing his hair was all Rylan had in him to grieve. But the difference now with Kam fixing the mess had him lightheaded. His eyes fell shut in peace; it was a vulnerability to let anyone touch his hair but with Kam the drow melted.

With eyes still closed, Rylan chuffed in disbelief. “My aren’t we arrogant? What makes you think I won’t thank the others? You’re just the only one allowed to be with me while I’m this indisposed, \*thank you very much\*.” The lilt to his voice was back mostly to normal even as he shifted from common to Abyssal letting the lower realms dialect pitch his voice to an almost purr.

As Kam leaned forward, Rylan leaned back, tipping his head to the right he let out a soul deep sigh. All the while letting his words sink in and knowing full well he’d over analyze and rip them apart later trying to rationalize whatever it was going on between them. Subconsciously he arched into the brush of cold skin, the barest smile starting at the corner of his lips.

“‘Have something to be sorry about’, will I? Mmhmm... it’s not very nice to tease someone and empty threats are poor deterrents.” Rylan couldn’t help but rise to the bait, turning just so to peer at Kam through the corner of half-lidded eyes. But his next words made a sobering look crash down on his face. With a tight jaw, he murmured. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Especially to someone sworn to the fae.”

Kam ran his fingers back down over the back of Rylan's sheered cut, He knew what it meant, how it was a testament to his life. Or rather freedom from it.

"I never said you wouldn't, and besides, its not arrogance its confidence. " Ah yes, just like that there it was, \*"Perhaps thats why I'm more akin to my father"\* His own voice taking on that sway that is abyssal. He couldn't help but to dip his hand into the tub for a moment before lifting his fingers out the warmth.

"Not to me I think, but yourself" He wasn't making a threat of any kind towards what it felt like. "I'm not the one here who keeps denying myself now am I?" His red eyes traveled down for a moment down the length of the Drow's form and back up to the side of his face. \*"And no I'm not talking about what happened in the camp"\* Kam's hands came to rest on rylan's shoulders.

Not a single motion of his hands was rough. \*"I can make all the promises I want, I have eternity to keep them"\*  Kam couldn't help but nuzzle his nose lightly into the side of his face. "It's okay, Talk to me, Whatever you want to talk about, stop hiding when you want to, im just going to enjoy the view"

Rylan prided himself on being able to handle just about anything. Always three steps ahead with back up plans for the back up plans; so the absolute shock that struck him nigh blind was a first. He was \*thoroughly, undeniably\* outclassed. For years he had slowly, carefully tried to hype himself up to being bold enough to try and flirt or hint to Kam how he felt. Rylan was \*convinced\* of where they stood and what line not to push.

Kam apparently decided to light the line on fire.

The more he talked the more Rylan was keenly aware of exactly what circumstances he had found himself in and the bright flush came back with earnest as all words abandoned him. Traitorous eyes tracked every moment, from his hand in the water with pupils blown wide. And still, the words just wouldn’t come. Oh; he had righteously miscalculated... and the only thought that mocked him was that pesky old adage about playing with fire.

Rylan froze with the hands on his shoulders, not in fear but instead with his held breath as he tried one, twice more to rationalize whatever the fuck he had gotten himself into. \*”Eternity is a promise, Kam...”\* His voice was low and measured as best as he could with the Abyssal but even Rylan could hear the whine in it.  Another soft whimper as he nuzzled his cheek and Rylan tried to will his pulse to stop giving him away as his faked accent went to the wayside for his real one.

“I want \*you\* Kam. Always have. All of you. The whole nine. That what you want to hear? Kiss me, bite me, \*fucking hell\* do you need a gilded invitation? I just want it to be real. Because... \*fuck\*...” Rylan growled low in his chest, tensing his jaw painfully.

“Because you’re it for me. There. That’s what I’m hiding Kam. That I fucking loved you since I was thirty gods damned years old. Still like the view?” Cor, he was angry. Rylan turned in Kam’s hands to stare him down, feeling more bare now than ever. Locking red eyes with his own blue and waiting for the shoe to drop.

Perhaps there was a line upon a time, but perhaps Kam's time along side his father blurred any sort of line. Living in affluence, wanting for not and that was the eternity that awaited him after this if all went to plan. Hopefully he would be able to give Rylan's life a small slice of what he should have had as the Heir to the underdark. Yet it would seem that he'd played correctly on Rylan's need to rise to any challenge before him, even the one which he thought he so levied against Kam.

The same one that Kam justly back fired upon him.

\*"I have that and more"\* He couldn't help but purr right back into the shell of Rylan's ear. It wasn't a lie either, he was undead among other things. Perhaps that wasn't the best term, perhaps it was just the easiest way for everyone around him to understand what he was. Rylan had an idea, the Drow knew more than most but that went for the both of them. All those years in the dark together, surviving with one another.

The words that followed, words he knew to be true and what a pleasure it was to finally hear every word said. It was all the validation that he needed to know. Perhaps that would help Rylan move forward as well. How bold he was in front of his mother. How after all of the torment  received he'd come out of that Drow encampment. Motivated.

Kam's hand slid up from one of Rylan's shoulder coming to rest on the tense muscles of his jaw \*"You have all of me, I just wanted to hear you finally say it. And the view, "\* His eyes played on the flush grey skin \*"Its still just as grand as ever"\*

That tick in his jaw was back, as Rylan narrowed his eyes at Kam, trying in vain to cling to anything he had left that resembled pride. And once more he was undone. He was acutely aware of how different it was when Kam purred in his ear as once more a rush of fire lit his skin from within. He knew the difference between a boast and a certainty and Kam’s words practically sang with the latter.

He tilted his chin up, the movement different now since he couldn’t use his long hair to his advantage. Just another way he was bare before him, and again Rylan couldn’t find it in himself to care. As soon as Kam’s hand began to move along his overheated skin Rylan swallowed hard, teeth catching his lower lip sharply to try and use that brief flash of pain to gain some semblance of control. Focus. And once more he keened, his own hand rising up to make sure that this was actually happening and banish the last doubts still rattling in his mind.

\*”Kam... please?”\*

That was it. The last two words he had. Ragged voice of the undone paladin playing over his name, turning this sweet sin into a prayer. He couldn’t process that this beautiful man was his; it was too good to believe and his heart hitched painfully. That thorn, that flame he’d held for nearly a century threatening to consume him.

He lost track of how many people had said pretty words about his scars, asked of their stories invasively. But hearing Kam, \*His Kam\*, find him something other than ruined was too much for him to bear.

His right knee was on fire from kneeling like this for so long but he didn’t dare move and shatter this moment like glass. The pretenses however, he threw to the wind as he finally let himself drink him in to his full. Tracing over his lips, his throat; head tilting to the side before slowly tracing back up. Making sure Kam could read plainly on his face how much he wanted him and how important he was. Rylan felt himself tremble as he raised his other hand to cradle Kam’s face. “Please?”

\*\*Please,\*\* the word  sounded nothing more than honey. A sound that he'd not heard in the longest of times. Well at least of some time where it sounded real. An not more than wanting to be something more in his father's court. Kam couldn't stop himself sliding his other hand from rylan's shoulder. Following the warmth that ran through his veins, pausing only a moment. A moment waiting to hear him say that one little word again.

Red eyes watching those blue. Waiting for something. Anything, if he could have ever breathed in his life through all the torture, all the torment, the shared pattern of scars both mental and physical. There was never on ounce of betrayal between them. Kam could only hope it would remain that way. The feel of Ryaln's skin under his hands was unlike anything, having him here, now, no longer helping one another up from the floor. Bloody, hurting, hungry.

Perhaps now they were both hungry for something else.

His own skin felt alight when rylan's hand moved to his own. Watching as the drow twisted and turned in the tun, wanting- waiting. An Kam would not disappoint, taking the moment as theirs, not his own. With that last and final please he could no longer contain himself. taking the invitation, the want, the need, finally doing what the both of them wanted. Taking the opportunity, to slide an arm under Rylan's trying if he could to take some of his weight.

Finally taking the other, kissing the man before him in what seemed like years of wants and needs denied.

### **Returning to Morad**

#### *Mending a Mess*

We returned to Gael Aethel, where a few members of the party unloaded some of the goods they’d picked up along the way. Rylan purchased a rather ornate cane. Then it was time to depart. We’d been told the walk back to Morad would take approximately two days; the plan was to walk as far as possible and then use Loray’s tent as a camp. We wished we’d had Thea’s bardo, but it – along with Biscuits and Gravy, were back in Morad.

“I could always shape into a horse,” Ruinfea reminded us.

“Would you be Biscuits or Gravy?” asked Thea.

“Sausage.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t choose such a . . . prophetic name,” suggested Fuego.

“Eggs, then.”

The weather was agreeable and temperate as we walked. Our bodies started to growl and grumble, letting us know it was midday and time for lunch. But the sun disagreed, still hanging low in the early sky.

“Have we crossed the border?” Kam wondered aloud, looking behind him. “Looks like we’ve crossed whatever protection they had raised up,” he said to Rylan.

“Good to know,” Rylan replied.

“I mean, that’s a good thing, right?” Loray asked. “I’m famished; let’s set up camp.”

“A second breakfast,” Thea said smiling.

“Wait just a second,” Rylan said. “You, scout,” he said, pointing to Loray. “And you, hunt,” he motioned to Aniel. They looked at each other, sighed, and then went off in separate directions, Loray down the trail and Aniel into the woods.

Loray soon came back, looking unhappy. “If found a camp just down the road near a turnoff. It’s occupied . . . and they have Thea’s caravan. It’s Carrion and Comforte.”

Thea and Rylan quickly gathered his things and we quickly made our way down the path. There was a fire; smoke rolled off it while Comforte sat nearby, wringing her hands. There was a distinct difference since the last time we’d seen them. Carrion’s clothes, which before had been the well-kept robes of an apprentice in the Tower of Magicks, were ill-fitting an much-repaired castoffs. His staff was the only recognizable thing about him. Comforte wore her armor, but her clothes had not been washed in what seemed like weeks. Her eyes were baggy and her hair was cut short and rough.

Carrion waved, and looked about to run to us, but something held him back.

The caravan had seen better days. The wheels were in need of repair and the paint had faded. Biscuits and Gravy looked lean, and their manes were caked in mud. This was something that would takes weeks to accomplish along with a drastic change in diet. They were missing shoes.

“We must have been away longer than we thought,” Fuego said.

“Something catastrophic . . .” Thea murmured.

Rylan and Thea moved together to embrace Carrion, who wrapped his arms around them.

“I didn’t think . . .” he began.

“What’s wrong?” Rylan demanded.

“Where have you all been?”

“The plane of knowledge, and somewhere we can’t talk about. Now tell me what happened.”

“How long have we been gone?” Fuego interjected.

“Four months”

“And where is Tiago?”

Carrion looked distressed and devastated. “He . . . he didn’t make it out of the tower.”

“what” Rylan deadpanned

“He didn’t make it out when Civar attacked.”

“what. happened. to. my. brother.”

“It’s a story,” Carrion began as Comforte continued to show no emotion.

Thea sat by her; the rest of us stayed standing. Comforte reached for Thea’s hand; Thea looked from her back to us then to her again.

“It wasn’t fifteen minutes after you left. Tiago was there, holding the circle like you’d asked. And then the other one, Glynn, blasted a hole in the tower wall. I don’t know how they did it, but they breached every ward of protection we had.”

“I know how,” Rylan said softly.

“They went directly for Tiago, breaking his concentration. Not that he couldn’t have raised it again, but . . but . . Civar killed him, and for good measure the barbarian of theirs crushed his head in. Comforte tried to fight back but Glynn did something to her. In a panic I wild surged and got us out, but . . . Comforte didn’t make it either.”

“But . . .” Thea began, looking over at Comforte.

“That’s not Comforte. That’s Nyck.”

“He doesn’t get to do this.” Rylan growled. “Carrion, for the sake of my anger be both specific and succinct.”

“I took her to the clerics, but they couldn’t do anything for her. They said . . . they said her brain was fried. And there was no place for your worm . . . and so I made a choice. I made a choice. It was the last we had of Jii and . . . and this way they’re both still with us . . . after a fashion.

Civar now has the capitol. He killed Aelin and took Luthias prisoner. He had help from the small council.”

“Which ones?” I demanded.

“Karmek and Balgalor, his own uncle.”

“What of Sildove and Sildar? What of my nephew?” asked Rylan.

“Sildar and Sildove escaped. Aurun is still in the capitol. When is mother returned, he was able to get back in her good graces. He’s now working as a double agent.”

“Meme and her monk friend?” Fuego enquired.

“Still in prison. Remember they were taken in for questioning? Civar just . . . never released them.”

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” Rylan murmured.

“And the Chandlers?” I asked delicately.

“They were already outside the city. They have managed to keep the inn running with . . . alterations. We meet there sometimes . . . But . . . Stormosin burned Little Grove to the ground.”

I thought of Olivia Tealeaf and Comforte’s mother and Little One and Rylan’s house and the city we helped save. That’s it. Bitch just made the list.

“He’ll pay for this,” Rylan said matter-of-factly.

“I . . . I have a plan . . .” Carrion stammered.

“Next time, lead with that.”

“I’m sorry”

Rylan gave him an unkind, withering look.

“If we can get back to the tower . . . Civar destroyed the gate. If I can get back there, I can reset it.”

“How much time will you need?” Fuego asked.

“It’s a simple mending spell . . .”

“What are our chances?” asked Kam.

“If we can get in? Good. I learned from the best . . .”

“Who can mend it?” I wondered. “If we can get close enough to help you . . .”

“Anyone with the spell.”

“The resest . . .” Fuego began

“Sildove’s idea. She was the one who told us to be here, and when.”

“Kam,” Rylan said, “the thing . . . You know, I could just stroll right back into Morad if I wanted to.”

“Civar sent all the dark elves back underground,” Carrion said. “And besides, the Third Family is the most wanted group of criminals in the empire.”

“What makes you think I’d look like me?” And shifting his neck, Rylan’s features changed. “Say hello to Cassian Lovelocke.”

“I . . . I know him.” Carrion said. “Civar holds audience with him. Cassian Lovelock, patriarch of the Lovelock family.”

“Not patriarch, his son.”

“Patriarch. He’s the only survivor.”

“He’s going down,” Rylan said.

“Well, speaking of getting into the city, I’ve got a spell good for one person,” Ruinfea said. “I can polymorph.”

“I have that too,” Thea said, plus costuming from the vardo.”

Nyck watched Thea closely.

Aniel returned; Nyck and Carrion were immediately on their feet.

“That’s Aniel,” Rylan told them.

“One of us,” Fuego said.

“Friend?” asked Nyck

“Yes,” Rylan answered in abyssal.

“You want me to clean these?” he asked. And then, seeing our familiarity, he said “I can do it while you catch up.”

“There’s no time,” Rylan said.

“Then I’ll do it on the way.”

“I . . . I don’t think taking the caravan is safe,” Carrion explained. “It’s well-known to belong to the Third Family . . .   and we are wanted criminals now, after all.”

“We could always disguise it,” Thea suggested. “I’ve got some paints stored away and . . .”

Carrion shook his head. “The shape alone would give us away. It is a very distinctive vehicle.” He turned to Rylan and asked, “What about Shantris’ Underdark Way?”

“No,” Rylan answered flatly. “What if we took the horses but left the caravan?”

“You mean push it behind the barrier?” asked Loray.

“Carrion, you and Nyck will have to stay here for a moment. We need to take the caravan somewhere . . . somewhere we promised not to talk about.”

“Promises are important,” he answered.

There followed a discussion of which of us could actually ride a horse; turns out there wasn’t many of us. Strangely, though, it seemed the horses were fine around Kam. I ended up flying with Aniel. Kam summoned a hellhound, which he rode. Thea and Fuego sat astride Biscuits; Rylan and Nyck took Gravy. That left Loray and Ruinfea and Carrion.

Giving a sly look to Loray, Ruinfea said “Eggs,” and shifted into a horse.

“It’s been some time since I rode bareback,” he said.

Thea turned red and Rylan groaned.

“Does everyone have a mount?” he asked. And then realizing what he’d said, groaned louder.

Loray simply laughed. “Permission to come aboard?” he asked Ruinfea.

Thea turned even redder, and Fuego now chuckled.

“A good Captain always asks permission.”

The trip took about a day and we arrived at the Chandler’s inn around midday proper. Before . . . before, it had been called the Gentleman’s Flute, but the sign had been hastily painted over and the inn renamed the Bloody Sign – the sign in particular being the sign of Abraxas, demon lord of forbidden knowledge.

“I hope this is just a front,” Thea said, worriedly.

Kam and Rylan-as-Cassian would go through the front; the rest of us, through the back.

#### *At The Bloody Sign*

The inside of the Bloody Sign was dimly lit by candles and a fireplace. Though there were places for oil lamps, they remained unlit. The people were a seedy sort – the type who looked ready to either make a deal or renege on one. Rylan settled into a chair while Kam, scanning the room, saw an old acquaintance of his: a low-level guild member named Zane. Zane spoke first.

“Long time.”

“Thirty years, at least.”

“How’s business?”

“Haven’t been in the business for years, now.”

“So. What brings you here, and why now? The new regime?”

“Things have indeed changed . . . for the better. So. Who is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who?”

“I have no idea what you mean. Do you mean the emperor? He has many interests.”

“Whoever it is must be inconsequential. So again, who is it?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Tell me of our lovely grand emperor.”

“Civar has opened the doors of trade and commerce.”

“So business is . . .”

“Business is booming. I make many trips these days.”

“Do you need assistance?”

“If you’re available.”

“I may be available, depending on the pay.”

“I’ve got some jobs out near Dewport . . .”

“I’m not interested in going out there.”

“I also have a delivery in Morad.”

“I’m going that way.”

“Here, take my papers. My name carries weight.”

“That’s a first.”

“At least, it does in the capitol. A collector s expecting a small chest of artifacts. Small trinkets and relics meant for a museum.”

“Payment on delivery?”

“I can pay you now. I just trust you won’t open the chest.”

“What use would I have for trinkets?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

#### *Back to the Action*

Meanwhile, Thea put away Biscuits and Gravy. Approaching the kitchen entrance, she looked at us. “We can’t go in looking like this. We need to change. She cast disguise self and then turned her attention to us, using her skills to turn Fuego from a red Dragonborn to a blue dragonborn with extra horns and nubs and bits. He looked great. She softened and rounded my face, making me look younger than my years, and changed my hair from silver to a dark red.

Nere entered the kitchen looking tired and haggard and worn. She tried to shoo us out. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go around front. We don’t take customers through the kitchen. I’ll be glad to serve you in just a moment if you’ll just go ‘round . . .”

Unable to bear it any longer, Thea dropped her disguise. Immediately Mrs. Chandler embraced her daughter as the tears started flowing. “But who . . . ?”

“Mama, you remember Fuego,”

Nere cut her off with a hand to her mouth and a shaking of her head.

“Ah. I see.” Thea said.

I could see Nere counting in her head. “You seem a few shorter than last time, dear.”

“Two of our companions came in the front a few moments ago.”

“I’m sorry, but the only new customers I’ve had recently are two vampires.”

“One of them is not as he seems.”

“And the other?”

“One is not as he seems.”

“Ah. I see.” Like daughter, like mother.

“Mama . . . where is Papi?”

“He is resting.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s fine, he’s just . . . taken ill. The full moon isn’t for a few nights, but it seems to affect him early . . .”

“What? When did this happen?”

“Two months past. We’ve set up a room in the root cellar . . . to be safe, you understand.”

“And the sign out front?”

“Modern times demanded it. A certain clientele demands certain . . . surroundings. But enough of that, what I can I get you?”

“Can we hide back here?”

“I think so, yes, but we have a better spot than the kitchen,” she pointed down to a trapdoor none of us had seen. “Sometimes they have meetings here.”

“Excellent.”

Back out front, Zane had returned with the chest for Kam. Rapping his knuckles on the lid, he said. “I need you to give me your utmost promise you won’t open this.”

“What was in it again?”

“odds and ends”

“tell me true, now.”

“Out of curiosity, or . . .”

“Curiosity. Preparedness.”

“it is said that within this chest are five of the six pieces of the Crown of Madness. Is that good enough for you?”

Kam took the chest and the papers. “Are these any good?”

“They are. Here’s the payment, as promised. As for me, I’ll be headed to Rapture. It is surprisingly booming and yet . . . unchanged.”

Rylan, acting as Cassian Lovelocke, had not been served. He began sending out an aura of anger as Kam talked to Zane and Nere Chandler conspired with us in the back. Finally, she came out and began clearing the table.

“What can I serve you?”

“My mail, sweet thing. I have been waiting.”

“Mail? Correspondence?”

“Yes.”

“I . . . I will see what we might have.”

She returned a moment later with a single letter.

“The only mail we have is that what was returned to you. Appears they couldn’t find the recipient.”

Rylan found himself holding his own allowance.

“Sir, we have more of them. Looks to be four months’ worth . . .”

“I’ll take them all.”

Kam had come over by this point, and seeing the envelope, held out his hand. Rylan pushed the stack over and, opening them, found himself 45,000 gold richer.

Returning to us, Nere spoke, “Your friend is . . . exciting. But they appear to be heading out. By your leave . . .” She began digging in the coals with a pair of tongs, finally removing a lump of coal and dropping it in a bucket. The ash washed away to reveal a simple gold ring embossed with a bird in flight. “I wish I had more to give you, but . . . wear this and others in the organization will recognize you. Do you understand?”

“I think so. Must I hide it, or . . .”

“You can wear it openly if you feel safe.”

“How come you never told me about Auntie Ana?”

“I didn’t know if she wanted to be seen or found. Home is . . . complicated.”

“I think we’ll save this conversation for later, Mama.”

“Promise me you’ll come home?”

“When our work is done.”

There were more hugs and tears, and then Thea raised her disguise again. Turning to us, she said, “We should find them.”

“Go with blessings.”

“Thank you,” Fuego said. “I will look after Thea.”

“That means more to me than you’ll know.”

Thea’s tears fell faster.

“Take food, if you will,” and she began packaging up victuals for the journey.

“I will remember your kindness,” I told her.

“I promise things will be better here next time you visit.”

“With any luck, we’ll put this right,” Thea said. And with one last look, she turned and walked out the door; we followed.

We met outside by the stables to discuss our entrance into the city. Thea helped Loray and Nyck disguise themselves as best they could, Carrion’s outfit did well enough to hide his identity.

As we talked about our plans, Kam opened the chest Zane had given him. It went off with a pop, and Kam just laughed. “He really needs to work on his traps better,” he shrugged.

Inside were five jagged pieces of . . . something.

“Zane asked me to take this to . . . a bad place. I have other ideas.”

Rylan kissed him, and Kam looked flustered.

“These are shards from the crown of madness. Take them, but only use them as a last resort. They can lead to . . . obsession.”

We each took one, and carefully wrapped them among our belongings. It would take blood to activate whatever magic they contained.

Ruinfea, for a new disguise, now shifted into a hellhound matching Kam’s.

“Can I ride you that way, too?” asked Loray.

Ruinfea growled playfully.

We made our way to the gates of Morad. The statues of the first emperors had been torn down and in their place had been erected two new statues, towering 25 feet above us: one to Ramelas Civar and the other . . . to Liliahil Stormosin.

The gates were closed, something unheard of before.

Kam walked up to the guard door and knocked.

“Business?” came the call from within.

“Papers,” Kam said testily, baring his teeth.

Rylan-as-Cassian now showed his face. “And surely you know I can enter the city during my own time?

The guard’s face registered shock and horror.

“Of course . . . of course, my lords. Please forgive these old, tired eyes. Is this your whole party?

“For now”

“Of course, my lord. You always did like to travel with all the . . . necessities.”

Rylan/Cassian kept walking.

Guards were everywhere in the dark night. The bell tolled midnight as we walked the streets of Morad, making our way to what remained of the Tower of Magicks. We began talking quietly amongst ourselves.

#### *A Rest*

##### *Ruinfea with Rylan and Loray*

To say that the Heir’s mind was everywhere at once would be a bit of an understatement. The last few days had been a constant feeling of being off balance, outclassed, off his game.

Even more so now as he wore the face of his once master, once lover, once Domitor; he had almost forgotten Cassian and yet even now it was second nature to slip into even the slightest mannerisms. The way he held tension in his jaw, the faked humanity in the barest hint of movement of his fingers; Rylan couldn’t afford to make a mistake lest someone in the city see him but the masquerade was uncomfortably accurate. He was certain now that he knew for a fact the Lovelocke man was in Morad he needed to be careful. Thralling Rylan once more would be child’s play after their history.

His attention shifted to Ruinfea in her hellhound guise with an arched brow; the movement was far more kind on Rylan’s actual face and he hoped it didn’t look too condescending on the one he had borrowed. “You alright?”

Ruinfea’s hellhound face looked up at the Rylan that was being someone else at the moment. “I’m better now knowing you are ok. I felt so horrible not doing anything when you were originally taken. I just fell in the floor and couldn’t speak or act. I was helpless in that moment and I refuse to ever be that way again.” She paused for a second. If a hellhound could look shamed, that’s the look on her face. “Once I was able to get straightened out, I decided I would never be like that again. I think this more now having seen you. I have no idea what that horrid being did to you, other than what’s on the outward appearance, but I know you are so strong.” She thought about her weakness and once again regret abounded.

Rylan looked down for a moment, fascinating himself with the cobblestone street’s every detail before taking a measured breath to organize his thoughts.

“If it helps you to hear it, there was nothing you could have done. Tearing yourself apart over it serves nothing; definitely not you and least of all me.” He paused, looking up and out into the darkened city, scanning every window and building for movement.

“Respectfully; I won’t be talking about what I went through. I won’t let my cousin have any hold on me again and that includes dwelling on being his victim and giving voice to what he did to me. And I hope that answer is enough for everyone because it’s the only one I’m giving. I know you care. That helps a lot too.”

Rylan smoothed a familiar hand through his hair and the discordant sensation was off-putting. “Please don’t use my pain to justify your own self-criticism? It’s mine... and it makes me feel like shit when people fixate and use what I had to survive as a personal rubric of their worth. I’m alive. I’m home. Please let that be enough. I’m ‘strong’ because I don’t have a choice.”

Rylan smiled, tight lipped, at Ruinfea praying that she would hear him even if the voice and face was not his own.

Gods she had said the wrong thing. She would never use Rylan’s pain for anything. “I know my issues and I know they are mine. Also, I want you to know that I would never ask you what happened. I look up to you in many ways- my brother. I will be by your side as best I can.” She would never be as close to her blood brothers as she was to Rylan. “I’m glad you have Kam back in your life. I don’t know much about him, but I see the joy in your eyes. When you dropped your medallion, Kam picked it up. I used it to scry for you and I know you would want it back. It is in the front pocket of my bag” she wanted to make sure he got it back. “I really am so glad you are back.”

Rylan smiled again wistfully, continuing to speak their conversation in Bestial knowing that only he and Ruinfea would be able to understand.

“No Ruinfea please listen. I’m not saying this is ‘your issues’ or something like that. But you are ripping yourself apart with guilt and you don’t need to. And shouldn’t. And while you do that, it will make me feel bad because I don’t like seeing you hurting. So then I can’t heal. You need to forgive yourself and let this go or I can’t do the same.”

When her words turned to Kam, Rylan couldn’t help but cast his gaze back towards him knowing full well that the deep scarlet of his borrowed eyes softened immediately. “I love him. I always have. He’s seen me brought down and ruined, hell was there when it happened, and he still treats me as if I’m sacred. Worthy...” He turned back to Ruinfea trying to find a way to explain it and simply stopped trying to quantify it.

“Thank you.” The first words he spoke in Common, willingly accepting the weight of them as he reached down into her pack to pull out his Holy Symbol. The tension immediately drained from his body, save that which was part of the disguise, and returned it around his neck before tucking it underneath his shirt. His ears pricked up at a few words behind him and his brow furrowed as Rylan’s jaw clicked with tension.

“I’ll always be where I am welcomed and wanted.” The words in Common measured with the weight of a Knight of Summer.

Ruinfea was so glad to know Rylan had someone to love, and for that she would protect Kam too. She would take care of her family. “I will forgive myself and be ready for what is to come. I also wanted you to know that there’s a connection with Loray and I. Not sure what will come of it, but it’s exciting and new even with everything else going on. I haven’t felt anything like this since Kava and as my brother I wanted you to be the first to know that we have talked about it. So all that flirting was definitely flirting but also a bit more. Of course he loves to make me blush. I think it’s one of his goals now. I’m trying to find ways to do the same to him, but haven’t been extremely successful yet.” She chuckled in hellhound which must have sounded hilarious or scary to anyone else hearing it. She nudged Rylan’s arm in a loving sisterly way. “Thanks for talking to me.  I’m going to go annoy Loray now, and since he can’t understand me I can say whatever I want!”

As soon as Ruinfea started talking about forgiving herself and Loray, Rylan couldn’t stop the wide fanged grin from beaming down at her. “Now \*that\* is some of the best news I heard all day. I’m so proud of you for letting yourself have something good again.”

The way she spoke of trying to keep up with Loray’s flirting and trying to do the same was far too familiar a feeling he had in regards to the forever game he played with Kam. He was so happy for her and the little hellhound chuff of delight was just perfect. Reaching down to ruffle her between her ears at the playful nudge, Rylan nodded.

“You owe me nothing. Go tease your Fae.”

When she saw Rylan smile she could see his smile through the face he was wearing. It made her so happy. She scampered up to Loray and nudged his hand with her hellhound nose knowing Rylan was ok and allowing herself to be cheerful.

Loray had been walking, doing his best to look like a downtrodden, beaten, and dejected man. He had tucked his coat and hat into his bag, and promptly look out a head wrap that he could use around his features. That, combined with the disguise job Rylan had done, and the acting; it might be enough to not give him away.

He was busy taking in everything around him; the conversations, the city, any clue he might be able to bring it. He was, however, taken a but off guard when a hellhound head nuzzled his hand. He looked down quickly, before he smiled under the head wrap, and settled a hand between Ruinfea's ears.

If it were possible for a hell hound to purr that is what would have happened. She felt quite contended and continued to walk beside Loray.

##### *Bryn with Kam and Rylan*

This was hardly Kam's first time within such a sinister environment. The world now twisted and contorted from what it once was only mere months ago.... Yet even now in this almost ideal times he could not help but think about the actions of the party at the drow encampment of the first blade. Many had shown their true colors, their motives and wants. However one in particular left him curious as they walked through the city.

For a moment he fell back, falling in line besides one very short gnome cleric of a particular god whom held a disgust towards his kind. And his mind swam with questions,  oh where to begin.

Simple that's how.

"How are you fairing since.. " he felt the idea implied rather than outright.

Kam’s voice startled Bryn, who had been lost in her own thoughts, trying to work out the ramifications “turning back” time would have on other recent events.

Honestly, Kam was the last person she expected to talk to her. But here he was, by her side, asking “how are you faring since . . .”

And how had she been faring? There’s been that moment with Thea . .  . and then the shock of finding the world changed, the terrifying thrill of flying with Aniel, and the stunned silence as she watched Thea’s mother struggle to keep a kind of normalcy in a world gone mad.

Kam was so different than she was. Kam was strong where Bryn only pretended to be. So, given the choice to expose her insecurities or put on a brave face she knew would fool no one, she chose to . . . not lie, exactly, but equivocate. A truth that was mostly the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

“Well enough, I suppose.” She answered back. “I mean, given everything . . .”

"Ah" it would seem for the time being was all he could muster as they all walked. Thriving, was one way of putting it. This was his element, this was his hunting ground. Yet all Kam wanted was to know the answer to a simple question. An it was just simply why. Yet, first Kam wanted to make sure Rylan was in a better place than when they found him.

"I wanted to just, check in, I don't know any of you that well at all outside... " He paused for a moment, looking back up at the person suit Rylan was wearing at the time. "I was curious, Why, Why a Cleric whom in a hostage retrieval would take the position of an aggressor, rather than go to help the harmed"

He wasn't sure if he held the right idea, but he'd not needed a cleric by his side to fight the First blade, Rylan had needed the assistance more. An he knew being a caster himself, those spells came at a pretty cost. A cost that would have been better spent helping than harming. \

Well. This certainly wasn’t the direction Bryn expected the conversation going. Why had she gone with Kam and not with any of the others?

“Some will say pride, but also anger . . . and love . . . I wanted to hurt him.”

She stopped. It had been clear to her the first blade was beyond her, yet still she chose to attack.

Kam couldn't help but smirk to himself at the answer, "I'm not asking some I'm asking you" giving a moment of pause to get the barest impression that he wasn't playing here. Red eyes taking on a darker shade.

"Why a Cleric then if you want to hurt people?" He lobbed yet again another loaded question in her direction. It wasn't a good enough answer, not for him. It wasn't an answer that would have given him comfort if something had happened to Rylan.

Happened because Bryn chose to do what they wanted over what was needed.

"I know its that line of thinking that caused your so called god to be upset, knowledge for the sake of pride. Sounds like you need to either listen to him or take a different path."

Bryn sighed inwardly, “I told you why: anger at what he’d done to someone I love. But I didn’t say I wanted to hurt \*people\*; I wanted to hurt \*him\*. There’s only one other person on that list, and we just passed her statue.

My god is displeased for many reasons, and you are not the first to suggest I either need to change myself or change my god.

But tell me: am I the only one not allowed to fight?”

"You don't just out of the blue wake up on day and decide you want to hurt someone. Its something you've always wanted and you just now are finding a moment to take it out on people "

Kam knew how the world worked, how the living were nothing but zealots to a cause and forced those ideals on any one around them. "You said pride, love, anger, those emotions aren't new."

He let his fangs remain visible in his smirk "All you life you've been told what to do, how to do it and why. An now that you're on your own you're just lashing out. To prove people your better, but all your doing is proving you're just the same as the people who decided you were going to be a cleric. "

"Then what are you afraid of? if I am not the first, and i'd gather not the second as you mentioned several reasons for change. What \*\*do\*\* you want?"

"You want to hit back then Change who you are, stop following blindly to a god who wants you to do his bidding and is angry because you choose subtle arrogance over true knowledge to help. That you defy his ways and harm for the sake of harm when others are in need of help. "

Bryn could barely think. “If you wanted to make me angry, you’re doing a fine job. To say I’m just like \*them\* when you know \*nothing\* of me . . . to suggest I harm for the sake of harm . . .

as for what I want . . .

But perhaps there’s a reason the only spells that seem to work with any regularity are the ones for help and aid and healing.”

"Oh no, I know you, I've known mortal like you all my life. Living small little vicious cycles, always trying to be better than the people who made them only to become them in the end. As I am sure the people whom groomed you were terrible. Taking their knowledge and using it for their own gains instead of ogmha's ways. "

He could only glance down towards the gnome at his side. He knew of spriggan, of Orcus if only because it upset the balance in the Abyss. The first blip on the radar.  "Angry, causes change. Get angry, Maybe you'll see you need to change and either do what you want, or fall in line with \*\*\*your God\*\*\*. "

There was an edge of spite to the last end, all things considering how Ogmha treated the undead. Even if it was just a technical term. "What your good at and what you want to do may not be the same thing. Which, Why did you take the Shard of Madness, knowing damn well it would only help you  feed into your clear blood thirst. Which you have a taste for it and I assume you'd want more"

"You could have easily said no"

“Just what’s your game here? Are you going to have this conversation with everyone or just me because my insecurities can be smelled a mile away?

As for Oghma, maybe he’s on to something. And the more abyssal creatures keep telling me to abandon Oghma, the more I’m inclined to stick with him. Maybe I have the chance to make something new, something better.

Maybe I took the shard because I didn’t fully understand it or because I felt the pieces should be split up.”

Bryn paused a beat.

“And just maybe a part of me wants to drive it through Liliahil Stormosin’s eye.”

She paused again.

“I know, deep down, I am not a good person. Not really. But I want to be one. I don’t know what I expected from you, but I didn’t expect . . . belligerence.”

"I'm not playing any game. I just want to know if we need to stop relying on you to BE  a cleric.  As when a Bard and a warlock are more helpful at healing. Somethings wrong. Really wrong.

And sticking with something purely out of spite. Shows that everything I previously called you for is true.

There's a time where you need to make a choice and it's fast approching. "

Kam weighed his options. While he had very little to loose for his next words.

" and if that need for violence again comes in the way of you helping a member of your so called family. " his eyes drifted to the back of several of their heads. Fuego,  rylan,  thea. Those he held a level of respect for.

"If your little game of hypocrisy tit for tat spite leads another to get hurt. I'll end you."

“I’m sorry, what? Last I checked I was the one to heal Rylan, at least up to his leg, as well as a good chunk of everyone else that was injured - present company excluded.

Yet you think I’m playing games, putting the party in danger, \*and won’t even tell me what exactly you think I did wrong\*? I \*\*helped\*\* - didn’t I?

"Feeling guilty?  And I have said my peace. You'll do with that what you will.  Just like you did with your God's.

I work with my demons. I'm not trying to be anything that I'm not. Your playing a game of spite. And like I said you need to figure out If you want to continue to help or continue to harm.

Right now they can't depend on you to do what you claim to be.

All I'm saying is make a choice. And stop playing for who's got the better deal"

“Still with the riddles. As if I wouldn’t ‘play’ for whoever was right \*so long as I could tell what what was right and what was wrong\*.”

Bryn paused for just a moment.

“I have no doubt you could ‘end me’ without thinking, but screw you if you think I’m not trying to help.”

"I spoke no riddle. But be angry and do in thing to change when now multiple sources have suggested you need to do some soul searching. I've been here less than a week and I see it.

Think about how the others see you. "

He didn't care about the last jab. It came from just a place of simple feeling exposed. And he did mean ever word said.

Bryn said nothing. There was clearly nothing more to be said to this \*interloper\* determined to ostracize her. As far as she was concerned, this conversation was over.

She looked ahead, and seeing Ruinfea’s hellhound break away from Rylan, strode forward.

Coming to Rylan’s side, she said, without introduction

“Two things.  One. I meant every word of my message. Two. I don’t know what these are but maybe you do.

(She hands him the papers looted from the Drow in the necromancer’s tower)

Rylan blinked and turned, unused to the six feet of height from his once High Elven Regnant disguise. He tilted his head quizzically at Bryn, with pale blond brows furrowing at the abrupt conversation.

“Alright...?” He responded, taking the papers into his cold hands. He quickly scanned the documents trying to get an idea of what they were before looking up over the edge of the paper to Bryn.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or should I brace for a rousing game of charades?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to make good use of our time. I mean, Kam doesn’t like me, but that’s not a conversation for right now, I think.”

Rylan continued to scan the documents, eyes glued to the parchment instead of any person or his path while trying to hide his now constant limp.

“These are military maneuvers; the numbers, name and rank of all the soldiers at the camp as well as its exact location. I’m glad Aniel translated it for you so that you could get to me as quickly as possible. But why give them to me now, unless he didn’t?”

He let the question hang before letting Bryn’s words sink in. With the grace of a musician, he folded up the parchment before holding it betwixt two fingers and offering it back to Bryn.

“Let me be clear, my friend, because you’ve earned that. Kam is his own person, and a perceptive one at that. He does not mince words and his loyalty is something that could rattle the very stars from the firmament above us. But I will not sit idly by and hear the man I love be called an ‘abyssal creature’ when \*I\* was born in the Abyss too. I am Rylantar Baenre of The Demonweb Pits and I would like to hope I am not a creature to you.”

His bearing was tall, not confrontational but that of the High King that he had been forced to become far too early. “Bryn; you are so much \*smarter\* than this. Both your god and Kam have told you that you’re losing your way but maybe you’ll listen to me. You are lashing out from the pain of revelation and to damn the messengers is a folly of the Unwise. Show yourself that word does not hold sway over you before it is too late.”

Bryn kept walking but the shock was great.

“No one translated the papers; they are as I found them. As for the rest . . . No. You are no abyssal creature to me. I would hope you would know me better than that. You have been nothing but honest and truthful with me.

But how am I to find my way if I don’t even know how I’m lost? Somehow I’m supposed to have things figured out already, when I haven’t even had a moment to \*think\*. I may be smart, but this seems beyond my understanding.

I would not lose you - or any of the rest.”

That same far off smile that didn’t reach his eyes returned and he continued with a soft leveled tone. “But Bryn that’s it entirely. Kam and I are no different and yet think of how you see us. I \*do\* know you which is why I showed you the parallel in the hopes it would give you clarity.”

He paused, weighing Bryn’s response. “Well, to start I would hedge a bet that the reason perhaps that you’re upset at what they’ve both said is because subconsciously you may actually know it and it’s painful to think on. No one expects immediate Self-Actualization but maybe take a heartbeat to instead weigh the knowledge being given to you for free. There is no giant riddle to this. That’s overthinking it entirely.”

Rylan gestured to his left arm that beneath the goldwork frock coat’s massive cuff held his buckler dedicated to Titania. “I could be accused of losing my way. I was an assassin not too long ago and, \*Cor\* did I love it. But circumstances changed. I changed. And since I respect Entropy I adapted.”

He looked back at Bryn and decided speaking plainly may help. “We are the hands of our Divine; our gods upon the moment we choose the mantle of Paladin or Cleric take root in our soul. Know our mind completely. Involve themselves directly because of the vows we made. My Lady is in my mind at all times because that’s the gig. And while I might not understand Her completely all the time, it is my job to strive to do so more every day. And if I screw up, which is mortal of me and not the end of the world, I put aside my pride to not only apologize but learn why.”

He adjusted his cuffs before resting his hand over where his Holy Symbol lay hidden. “To Err is human, To Forgive, Divine. Oghma didn’t punish you because he wanted to shame you. He tried to offer you a perspective that you didn’t realize because he wants you to be the person he knows you could be. And if that person is his or another God’s then it is what it is. You find your path by being better than yesterday.”

Bryn thought for a long moment before replying.

“I think I understand what you’re saying.

When we met in Little Grove you - we - were trying to promote equality. An equality which Aeldin, eventually, promised to advance. An equality I failed to extend to Kam.

I remember in Spriggan and in Dewport you called me honest and good. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I told Kam as much: deep down, I am not good. I saw what I did to Stormosin and I’ve been chasing glory, rather than what is good, ever since. And it got Jii killed. It prolonged your suffering. Perhaps by moments, true, but moments can seem an eternity.

Kam asked me what i wanted. I want to be good. I want to be the person you think I am, or at least see the possibility.

I cannot be good if I cannot admit my faults. My pride and arrogance and lack of empathy and indiscretion and the part of me that wants blood. I cannot be good by ignoring them. I must fight the enemies within myself so that we can fight side by side rather than against each other.

That’s all anyone was trying to say, wasn’t it? And instead of seeing what was right in front of my nose, I made it more complicated than it had to be. And people got hurt.

I wish I could say it wouldn’t happen again, but . . . I can promise to begin looking for the good again, and maybe that will help.”

#### *Strategy*

We ducked into an alley to regroup and plan our strategy. We kept our disguises up as much as possible, and decided to sneak our way to the tower.

“Don’t be suspicious,” Thea reminded us.

Rylan looked around before carefully removing a weapon we hadn’t seen before: a crossbow seemingly made of shadow and bone. He checked it over carefully and then tucked it away again, whispering “last word” to us and then sending Aniel and Loray off to . . . do something.

The elven district was not as we had left it. Many businesses seemed undersupplied; many more were shuttered entirely. The haberdasher where we’d bought our circlets appeared long abandoned.

A ten-minute walk brought us to our destination. Looking up, we could see the blasted wall twenty floors up, the rubble falling both in and out and piled up at its base. Four guards were posted at the outer garden gate, but the tower itself also seemed abandoned. The sense of balance was gone. Before it had been a true wizarding tower, accepting many comers of all alignments. But now . . . it seemed wrong.

Kam confidently strode up to the front door of the tower.

“I’m sorry, travelers, but the tower is closed.”

“I am here to deliver a package.” He took out the box, but did not open it. “An object of great importance . . . were it to be reassembled. Here are my papers.”

The guards took them, and looked them over. “I’m sorry, but the tower is closed on order of the Emperor.”

Rylan-as-Cassian stepped forward. “And will you tell me what is off limits?”

“I am dreadfully sorry, but Lord Civar . . .”

“And who do you think it was that sent me? If I have to leave here, return to the throne room to explain what has happened, only to return here again, I shall be . . . exceptionally thirsty.” Rylan’s aura had a distinctive “Do Not Fuck” feel about it.

The guards nearly pissed themselves in fright as they moved out of the way, not only unlocking and opening the door, but also holding it open for us. Kam snatched his papers back, and the guard flinched. Kam chuckled as we entered, and the door was locked behind us.

Looking around, Kam saw many spirits roaming the grounds, most of them recent and most of them mortals – victims of Civar’s attack.

It was an eerie, quiet walk through the tower. The magic lift between floors had been destroyed, but the ramp remained intact. There were no stairs; the tower was a wizard’s tower, and they came in all shapes and sizes and mobilities.

“This motherfucker,” Rylan muttered, staring up.

“Help?” Kam asked simply.

Rylan nodded.

“How?”

Rylan put his arms on Kam’s shoulders, and Kam piggybacked him up the spiral to what had been our home in Morad. This had been the place where it happened; remnants of blood and wild magic were heavy on the floor and in the air. The front room had been devastated, but Tiago’s arcane room was nearly utterly destroyed. The room was still open to the elements, and the air hung cold and misty and windy. The door was blown off and the gate was shattered. Tiago’s body was nowhere to be seen.

Kam looked around and saw Tiago’s ferocious spirit, his eyes painfully angry as he stared at “Cassian”.

“That’s not who you think he is?”

“Wh . . . Who?”

“Who else knows him so well?”

Tiago was still smart, and he seemed to “breathe” easier. “Wh . . . where you? Wh . . . What . . . h . . . hap . . . happened?”

“We fell out of time.”

“I am sorry.”

“You did you best. This wasn’t your fault, and nobody blames you.”

“I bl . . . blame myself.”

“You did everything we could. We think we can fix this. Is there anything you can tell us that would help make it right?”

“They took everything. My library . . . my relics . . . my friends and . . . children are . . . in danger . . . and . . . she . . . helped them.”

“Who?”

“Liliahil – the last face I saw before I died”

“I have a name,” Kam said to Rylan in abyssal. “I don’t know if it means anything to you, but it meant something to him.”

“Who?”

“Liliahil”

“Good. That bitch will pay along with Civar and the rest. They will not get away with this. Carrion? How are you doing?”

Carrion had been examining the gateway. “It’s a puzzle figuring out how it goes together, but I think I can manage. I spent a long time with Tiago, and even helped him make some improvements.”

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t say no . . .”

Thea examined the room; what she was looking for I have no idea, and she didn’t seem to find anything, either.

Kam was still speaking to Tiago

“He says he can fix it, but he needs a body.”

Rylan came over and stood next to Kam.

“Well, here I am.”

Kam took him by the shoulders and turned him around.

“He’s over here.”

Rylan continued.

“Get your unfinished business ghostly ass over here, but don’t touch the Paladin parts if you can help it. They can be a tad . . . prickly.”

Tiago went misty. Rylan felt cold and wet and then a warm breath as Tiago filled him, two souls in one body.

“There have been changes, I see.” Tiago said through Rylan’s mouth

“Leave them be,” Rylan warned.

Under Tiago’s guidance we were able to reassemble the gateway in ten or fifteen minutes.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked when we were done.

“We send them back to when they left,” Carrion said.

“And we’re gonna save your ass,” Rylan declared.

“And undo all this? Good.”

“I told you we had a plan,” Kam said.

“Ready to go?” asked Rylan.

“Let’s verify some things.” Kam said, and then turned to Tiago. “The barbarian – he’s the first one through the door, right?”

“Yes, followed quickly by Civar and his companion . . . Glynn. They used psionic energy to come through the wall. Stormosin came through the door. She’s . . . much more powerful than she was before. She must have found a new pact, bit with who . . . I don’t know.” He paused and then spoke again. “Carrion! Let’s get to work.”

“How will this work?” Rylan asked.

“You just step through. You’ll leave me behind.”

“Wait just a minute,” Ruinfea said. “What about Loray and Aniel? Loray was with us and Aniel . . .”

“If you go through without them, Loray will be here and Aniel will be back . . . wherever he was. Your reality would not have happened for him.”

“Can we send them a message?”

“I have message,” Thea offered, but I don’t think it goes that far.

“I have sending,” I said. “What do you want to say?”

“Loray, you best misty step your ass back here . . .”

“Ruinfea you’re brilliant.” Rylan shouted. “Hang on to your spell, Bryn. I’ve got this one. Still getting used to what I can do.”

And with that, Rylan himself misty-stepped away from us, Tiago being towed along.

Misty-stepping his way across the city was quite a sight for certain guards who, rubbing their eyes, convinced themselves they were seeing things. Rylan found Aniel and Loray close to where he’d sent them, with Loray bent over a lock trying to pick it.

“Need help?”

“Holy fuck you scared me. What’s going on?”

“The gate is fixed and we’re leaving. You need to come with us or get left here. I can’t take you, though . . .”

Loray turned to Aniel. “Hug me close. Like, really get into my bubble. Otherwise this may not work.”

As the two men embraced, Rylan turned a shade of red. “Have fun with that. See you at the tower. Goodbye . . .” and with that, Rylan was gone, misty-stepping his way back to the tower. Soon, Loray and Aniel did the same. This time, the guards swore off drink.

When Aniel and Loray arrived back at the tower, Ruinfea looked at them in judgy hellhound.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s go reset reality, please.” Rylan sighed.

Carrion and Tiago-in-Rylan went to work, and a minute later the door opened. This time it was cold and unstable.

“Go through now, before the gate closes completely,” Taigo said.

We stepped through and startled the Tiago we’d left behind. He looked at us, confused, until Rylan shifted back into himself and Thea dropped her disguise and Ruinfea shifted back as well. That only left Fuego and myself in the disguises Thea had made for us.

“Well, that was quick,” Tiago said cheerfully. “Not that I expected any different.” Then he took a closer look at us. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”

“Brace yourself,” Rylan said determinedly. “Your wife’s coming.”

“ex-wife” Tiago muttered.

Thea looked around and, spotting what she apparently looked for before, picked a package up from a side table.

“Crap!” she shouted as the thing shocked her. She let it go, and it fell to the floor.

“You asked me to keep it safe,” Tiago reminded her, picking it up safely, removing the spell, and handing it back to her.

Rylan was busy at the door, then stepped back.

Kam raised . . . something that looked like the drawings of apes I’d seen.

All was quiet . . . for a moment, until the barbarian tried the door.

Rylan had rigged it with the trap taken from the necromancer’s tower where we’d found Lindr, and the acid stunned him and knocked him prone in the doorway. Stormosin stood behind him.

Ruinfea pulled out a bow I’d never seen her with before. She later told us it was called Druid’s Gift. Nocking some sticks against the string, she let go and hit Stormosin squarely in the chest.

“That’s right, bitch,” she said as Stormosin looked at her in surprise.

“Don’t let her in the room,” Kam told his monkey-demon as he attacked the barbarian.

Fuego cast fireball, lighting up the barbarian and slightly scorching Kam.

“You’re not one of us until Fuego lights you on fire,” Thea laughed.

I sighed.

The barbarian stood up.

Weighing his options, Rylan held his action.

The wall blew in exactly as we expected, and Civar and Glyn floated into the room. Civar looked upset to see us there.

Rylan moved quickly, channeling his divinity of nature’s wrath to ensnare Civar. Vines wrapped around his legs and waist and torso, binding even his arms. Rylan reached out with one hand and made a pulling motion. The roots and vines ripped through the floor as they dragged Civar nose-to-nose with Rylan. Civar was surprised as shit.

Rylan slammed is other hand against Civar’s chest. There was a flash of light, and it looked like Rylan pulled a spark out of Civar and then slammed it in his own chest.

“Hello, Cirac,” he said coldly.

Civar looked at Rylan with a look of anger and horror as the vines released him. He attacked Rylan with his rapier, inflicting some kind of magical damage, and then cast spells as well.

My guiding bolt attack on the barbarian simply bounced off; I cast a shield of faith to Rylan to boost his AC.

Stormosin attacked Kam, but he seemed to just shrug it off.

“That’s cute.”

She attacked again; again, he simply smiled.

Now she was a little pissed. Similar to what she’d done in Little Grove, she called down a fireball on the barbarian, intending to consume Kam and his demon, as well as Fuego and Ruinfea along with him.

Thea ran at Stormosin. She must not have been expecting such a frontal attack, because Thea grappled her, casting dimensional door behind her and taking them both through it, emerging five hundred feet above where we were at the near top of the tower.

She fell.

Thea did not.

Stormoisn screamed all the way down to the pavement below, some 900 feet by my calculations, until the bitch splattered.

#### *Sirache*

Glyn now focused his attention on Thea and began to rise to meet her.

Brioche used her fire breath and the demon-monkey bit at Civar, while Tiago opened his own dimensional door and pulled Thea back to safety. Glyn angrily began descending as Ruinfea cast shatter on him, but it didn’t do anything.

Kam choke slammed Civar to the ground, aided by some Bardic Inspiration from Thea.

Fuego looked at Civar, but then turned his attention to Ruinfea, placing his hand on the back of her head.

Shatter

Thankfully, Ruinfea simply shook her head and looked at him in confusion.

Then he raged at me, slashing at me with a longsword he’d picked up from . . . somewhere.

Rylan had had enough. He hacked at Civar twice with Holy Avenger, and then shot him twice with Last Word. Civar looked stricken, like he was about to say something, but his words were swallowed by an unnatural silence.

Kam licked his wounds.

I decided to try suggestion on Fuego.

“Calm down”

“No, you”

I backed away, but he saw this as a moment of opportunity and lashed out at me again.

Thea must have sensed something I did not.

“He’s possessed!”

She tried casting deafness on him, but he simply grinned.

At that moment Aniel and Loray finally came through the portal and it closed behind them.

Glyn had apparently seen enough: Stormosin splattered, Civar cut down, the barbarian struggling for his life. Using his power, he sent himself out the wrecked wall in an explosion of colors. He winked out of sight – and so did Aniel and Kam and Loray and Rylan.

We barely had time to register what had happened because Kam’s demon became untamed. He roared and threw up his hands and attacked Thea with a charge and a bite before beating her with his fists.

Tiago simply morphed him into a bunny, pure and white as snow, which began hopping about.

Ruinfea tried to hold Fuego where he stood, but he responded with three scorching rays. Then he turned to me and, moving closer, used his breath weapon.

Thea tried to put him to sleep, but that too was folly.

“We’ve got to rough him up a bit!” she shouted to us.

Tiago nodded. “As the lady commands,” and cast an exploding knife of ice into his shoulder.

Ruinfea added an ice storm and a flurry of blows. The storm hit home, but the blows beat only air.

Fuego responded with a – seemingly halfhearted – hellish rebuke before he went invisible.

The barbarian must have decided he wanted to live; he stood to his feet. Unable to see Fuego, I knocked him back down with a well-placed guiding bolt.

Thea – ever the entertainer – found some glitter in one of her pouches. A lot of glitter, which she proceeded to blow around the room until she found Fuego, who cried out as some got in his eye.

Knock him out She messaged Tiago.

This time Fuego fell asleep, but as he did so fire erupted around him and his patron, Sirache, emerged from the flames.

“Fire Tits,” said Thea.

“Half-Breed”

“Strumpet,” acknowledged Ruinfea.

“Such terms we are on, we three. I did not know we were so close.” She breathed heavily and looked us over. “Make me a deal so I can leave this place.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re the smart one, short stuff. You figure it out.”

“What are the terms?”

“I just told you.”

“So, if we make this deal you’ll just . . . go away?” Ruinfea asked.

Sirache sighed.

“I was summoned here. I need to make a deal before I can return. My mother would be glad to see me kill you all after what you did to her paladin, but I’m . . . not on good terms with her at the moment. I am also hesitant to kill my own warlock, but honestly the only reason I even got in was because he was reneging on our own deal. But he’s convinced me you all are more useful as you are. It’s for his sake and his sake alone we are even talking. I need something . . . something of power, something of knowledge to use against my mother and my brother and I will leave you in peace.”

“But . . . I have nothing to give,” stammered Ruinfea.

“Spoken like the truly humble.”

“I’ve got . . . a drawing of the anatomy of a beholder,” I said.

“They are my neighbors. What use would I have with that?”

“How about a draught of never-ending water?”

“Is that a threat?”

“No . . .”

“You would offer water to me, a creature of fire?”

“Well, I had thought of using it against you, but I never got the chance. If it’d hurt you, think of what it would do to your mother or brother . . .”

Sirache shook her head. No

“Look, I’m trying!”

“I know, which is why you are still standing.”

Thea took the wrapped package and looked at Tiago.

“It is your decision,” he said. “It would be accepted, but you cannot get a guarantee she won’t use it. Against you, perhaps. Against the world, never.”

“What about using it only against her mother and brother?”

Tiago looked Sirache over carefully.

“Unless I miss my mark, her brother fights for good.”

Thea put it back in her pocket.

“There is a third way,” Sirache said. “I can make a pact.”

“You mean . . .”

“Yes. Become a warlock. It would have to be someone with suitable charisma, however.”

We looked at each other. Ruinfea and I were rather known for our distinct lack of charisma. Thea nodded.

“But you . . .” Ruinfea began.

Thea was determined. “For Fuego? For my family? Absolutely I would - I would do anything. Deal,” she said, turning to Sirache.

Sirache smiled as all seven feet of her rose to her full height. She took Thea’s head in her hands and cradled her gently, almost lovingly as she leaned down and kissed Thea between her eyes. Thea was filled with a burning sensation, an energy that was hot but not unpleasant. Then, in a burst of fire and flame, Sirache was gone.

On the ground, Fuego coughed and opened his eyes.

MISSING MEMORIES AND MEMBERS

Fuego stirs feeling as if he had a mountain land on him. The last thing he remembered was stepping through the portal and all hell breaking loose with Stormosin disappearing and screaming something from outside the tower. Then he was someplace else.

He went to sit up but he hurt, badly and had something in his eyes. Reaching up he pulled his mans back, glitter? What happened, and why was he on the ground hurting.

“Ow” was all he could manage.

Ruinfea rushes over to Fuego, “are you ok?”

Fuego took mental stock of his body. His hand hurt like he tried to shatter something at point blank. He ached all over and the glitter, that’s gonna take ages to get rid of.

“No, I hurt and I don’t know why.”

Ruinfea looked over at Bryn. “Maybe if you used your water he could get the glitter out of his eyes at least.”

“I mean, I could . . . fair warning, though - I’ve never actually used this before, so . . . . we may all get a little wet. Everyone okay with that?”

Fuego held up a hand, “I’m sure Tiago has a pitcher of water someplace. Maybe Rylan has a flask in one of his pouches.”

“Well...see...asking Rylan might be a problem...” Then it hit her. Rylan was gone, Kam, Aniel, and Loray. Loray was just gone.

Thea stood still. She was in shock, and the feeling left her feeling a bit sick. Everything had happened so fast and she hadn't yet processed it all when Fuego began stirring. She had been the one to form the plan to hurt him and that decision weighed on her soul. Although she was certain it had been the right thing to do (to get Sairche out of his head) she still hated having to go after a member of her family... again.

She reached into her pack, drawing out her waterskin. "Here..."

Fuego gingerly moved so Thea could run the water over his eyes. Cautiously blinking his eyes after a few moments. He realized Thea, Ruinfea and Bryn where staring at him with mixed emotions across their faces.

He tried to brace himself on his aching hand before realizing the mistake that it was. Forcing himself upright he looked around at what looked like aftermath from quite the battle.

With a slight hint of fear, he asked. “What happened?”

Bryn’s hand left her bottle, somewhat thankful she wouldn’t be spraying water everywhere. But Rylan and Loray . . . the colors had reminded her of when they first met Carrion in the Drunken Lizard. If only it had been so easy . . .

\*What happened?\* she heard Fuego ask.

“Well . . . (she said carefully) what’s the last thing you remember?”

Rubbing the side of his head, “the last thing I recall was, Thea grabbing Stormosin, disappearing for a moment. Then hearing Stormosin screaming something outside.” He paused for a moment processing things. “I was h... , next thing I knew I was laying here hurting and feeling like my hand had tried to be shattered.”

Looking around wincing a bit, “Where is everyone?”

Thea took a step back. She had done her best to get most of the glitter out of Fuego's eyes. "We aren't sure. They disappeared at the same time Glyn did..." Her voice was quiet and small. She was struggling to get a handle on her emotions.

Fuego looked at Thea, “Thank you.” He moved slightly still sore, trying not to vocalize his pain, mouthing things in draconic that would best not repeated. “So I blacked out and you all handled it?” Fuego said with a bit of pride in his voice. He was proud of his family.

“Oh if it were only that simple!”

Bryn took a breath. “What Ruinfea is trying to say is . . . you didn’t exactly black out. Think hard, as best you can. You said you remember Thea taking Stormosin out. Do you remember what she was screaming? Just nod one way or the other.”

Fuego thought for a second, head pounding. He replayed the last thing he remembered and his eyes went wide. “That Bitch!” He exclaimed.

“Yes, that bitch! So I’m guessing you know who took you over then?” Ruinfea shuttered when she thought of fire tits.

Fuego got a pained looked on his face. “I have a good idea.” He said holding back frustration while feeling violated and ashamed.

“What did she make me do?” He asked with a sound of fear in his voice that sounded alien.

Thea's gaze moved to Fuego's eyes. "She made you turn on the party." It hurt her to explain to him all that happened. "You attempted a pretty nasty spell at Ruinfea's head and went after Bryn with your long sword." She paused for a moment... "But Fuego that wasn't you and i think I can say that we all knew that."

“We . . . we tried to get her out, but . . .” Bryn stammered.

“Yeah, she made you cast Shatter at the back of my head. Thankfully I was able to block most of it. Only a tiny headache. She didn’t want to let you go. We tried all kinds of different things. We didn’t want to hurt you.” Ruinfea explained.

Fuego visibly shrank tears welling up in his eyes. He felt so ashamed, she made him hurt his family. How could they be so forgiving at what he did. Yeah she was in control but it was his body his face that looked at everyone before causing them harm.

He listened as everyone spoke then looking to Thea, “She did it, she made me into a monster and tried to hurt you, all of you.” He said his emotions shifting to shame then anger. “I am going to kill her. If I have to burn with her I will.”

Bryn looked Fuego over as he spoke, glancing at Thea as he did so. “Whatever you do, you don’t have to do it alone. But, how do you feel now? We . . . we had to . . . well, I think the term we used was ‘rough you up’”

Fuego nodded acknowledging he heard that he had the groups support. While he looked at his hand realizing it must have been the one Sairché used to cast shatter. “I feel like a mountain was dropped on me. And I want to punch a patron.” He looked at everyone, “So how did you deal with ‘her’ after I was down?”

Ruinfea put her hands on Fuegos to show him she didn’t bear any ill will against him. “You didn’t do those things, she did. I know you are angry with her, and I think Thea will be able to answer the question of how we ‘dealt’ with her.”

Fuego patted Ruinfea’s hand a few times, holding it for a moment.

Ruinfea realized that now she could help Fuego the way he had helped her back before they were able to save Rylan. Just being here.

It took her a while before Thea could respond. When she did her voice nearly cracked. "We had to get her out of your head, and we figured the best way to do that was to get you unconscious... but you were too strong. We needed to get you weakened so one of us could put you to sleep." She took a moment to let that sink in. "Once you were out, Sairche demanded a deal in order to leave..."

“And we offered what we had: our magic items and our knowledge, but . . .” I started

"But nothing was what she wanted.” Thea continued. Soooo, we may share a patron now..." Saying the words out loud made them real. Her breathe caught in her throat and she choked back tears. Willing herself not to cry. She was so uncertain about what was going to happen next. She felt lost.

Bryn reaches out for Thea’s hand.

Thea takes Bryn's hand and squeezes it. "Thanks"

Ruinfea looks at Fuego to see his reaction and knows how hard this is on him and Thea.

Fuego listened and grimaced at the sacrifices everyone was willing to make. He placed his hand on hers he wanted wrap her up in his arms. Knowing what she sacrificed for him, he could never find the right words.

So he reached into his bag grabbing a cloth to hand to here. “We’ll get through this together.”

Bryn doesn’t let go of Thea. “You  saved us too, Fuego. She said the only reason she didn’t tear us apart was because you’d convinced her otherwise. She said she did it for your sake. And you’re right: we’ll get through this . . .”

She squeezed Thea’s hand just a little, so that she caught her gaze. And looking Thea straight in the eye she finished her sentence: “together.”

“Speaking of together, I’m not sure how we are supposed to find the other half of our family. I hope they are ok. The only thing keeping me from breaking down is the fact that hopefully they are together.” She knew if they were together, Kam would take care of Rylan and Rylan would take care of Loray for Ruinfea and Aniel would do whatever was asked.

Thea took the offered handkerchief and wiped at her eyes. "Thank you." She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ruinfea is right. The others could be anywhere."

“Yeah how did they disappear?” Fuego asked

“The weirdo who’s name I can’t remember at the moment did some kind of magic jump to escape cause we were coming after him, and he saw Stormison die. There was like this flashing colorful light of some sort and then they were gone.” Ruinfea

“His name is Glyn.” Bryn said softly yet determinedly. “And that’s the second time he’s escaped.”

"Coward." Thea spat.

“He and I are gonna have words, what about that beast of a man and civar?”

“Rylan took down Civar. It was brilliant. Of course before he did that he stuck his hand inside Civar’s chest and took something. I’m not quite sure what.” Ruinfea Sometimes felt silly. She may be older than many in the party, but she knew so much less about the world and what was going on than they did.

Fuego looked confused, “So with Rylan doing that, it what prevented Civar from going all godly?”

”I think so...”

“And the barbarian is on the floor over there. I’m not sure if he’s more dead than alive or . . . maybe we should check on him? He might lead us to Glyn or the others.” Bryn suggested.

Bryn started and then stopped again.

“My mistake. It looks like Tiago has already taken care of things with the barbarian. So, that leaves us four.”

Fuego stood up ignoring the pains running through his body. “Right then, let’s bring our family home.”

#### *Many Meetings*

We spent a fitful day trying to simultaneously rest and come up with a plan. Ruinfea spent much of her time pacing, while Fuego simply tried to make sense of what had happened. Thea and I tried to come up with a plan for contacting our friends; Thea took a break to go visit her parents – who were perfectly fine and totally oblivious to their alternate timeline.

Eventually we deciding on a sending spell to Rylan: “Battle over. We’re okay. Where are you? Are you together?”

After several minutes, a message came back: “On my way to you now in tow. No Aniel, Nyck, or Loray.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Ruinfea said resignedly. “In fact, it’s downright bad.”

No sooner had she said this than three people entered the common room.

Kam was very much himself, but wore no armor except bracers and a pauldron connected to a harness, revealing a rather large and sprawling tattoo in the center of his chest.

Rylan followed, his previously short hair now down to his shoulders. His armor was now reds and blacks and silvers and quite intense in style. He carried a new cane, and his face was covered in an ornate paint. He led someone on his left arm: an unnaturally beautiful woman standing 5’6” with onyx black hair.

She looked human, except her eyes were a brilliant emerald green. Her outfit consisted of shades of black and crimson and she wore a traveling cloak that seemed almost a part of her body. At her waist was a belt marked with both celestial and abyssal words. To it was attached daggers and baubles and trinkets. On closer look, she appeared to be wearing Rylan’s old armor, or something similar.

All three looked soaking wet with rain; Thea immediately ran for towels.

“I see you haven’t given up collecting new people,” Fuego remarked to Rylan.

“It’s been . . . it’s been a time.” Rylan replied wearily. “How long have we been gone?”

“A day or so,” We all replied.

“It looks like you’ve been gone longer,” Thea remarked.

“Like I said, it’s been a time. I only just negotiated the bureaucracy to get us back.”

“Looks like it,” Fuego remarked. “Your hair’s better.”

“Not that it wasn’t bad before,” Thea quickly added. “It’s just longer now. But still . . . where have you been?”

“Would you believe . . . Pandemonium?”

[insert pandemonium info here]

“So . . . you want some tea while you fill us in?”

“I really can’t say much right now; we were mostly . . . predisposed. A deal came due of a divine and deific nature . . . and it all worked out in the end. And as part of that, there’s someone you all should meet.” He indicated the woman. “This is Keres. Keres, this is Bryn and Thea and Ruinfea.”

“You mentioned tea?” Keres said to Thea. “Might you have coffee?”

I smiled.

“Keres, is it?” Ruinfea asked. “Were you with them . . . wherever you were?”

“I’m not sure how I got there, but . . . yes.”

Rylan looked around “I take it then that Loray and Aniel and Nyck aren’t here?”

“No,” Ruinfea seemed on the brink of tears.

“Fuck. What happened after we left?”

“uhhh. . .” Thea said, sliding behind her teacup.

“Thea, what . . .”

“I made have made a deal . . .”

“Come on, out with it.”

“I may have a patron now . . .”

“WHAT? Back up and someone tell me, without as much bias as possible, tell me what happened after we left.”

“Well, things got kind of . . . weird.” Fuego said.

I started speaking, and with a few prompts and additions from Thea, we filled them in on what happened. Kam and Rylan seemed upset; Kam thought we’d jumped at the first opportunity to get rid of her, while Rylan seemed to think we were hiding something or not telling things exactly as they happened. There was a time he said he’d only trust something if it came from me; what had happened to that? He offered concern to Thea and care to Fuego and comfort to Ruinfea. He had no words for me. How did we go from Lymdell to this in a week; well, a week my time at least.

“I just want to be sure there won’t be any racism or prejudice toward anyone in this party, because now – for better or worse – Thea is now one of those marginalized in this kingdom.”

I felt she was talking directly to me. “You won’t have to worry about me,” I told him.

“About what?”

“You know . . . the talk we had earlier?”

“I’ll judge by actions and not words, as I always have,” he replied.

I sighed. It seemed there would be nothing I could do to repair whatever rift had developed between us. I couldn’t help but think he and Kam blamed me for Thea’s . . . predicament.

“Kam, maybe you could help Thea? I’m certain there’s much she doesn’t understand.”

“I also promised her mother I’d keep Thea safe. She might not remember that promise, but I do, and I intend to keep it.” Fuego said quietly.

It’s beginning to seem the more the party bonds, the more I feel . . . out of place. Ruinfea has Loray. Rylan has Kam and Kam is . . . complicated. I thought I’d begun to have some kind of a connection with Thea, but now I know she would share things with Fuego and Kam that she would never share with me, simply because I could not understand them. I should be fine with this. I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m trying not to be jealous. I’m not looking for a relationship, but I wouldn’t mind a friendship that I didn’t screw up at the drop of a hat. There are times I wonder what I even bring to the party. Everyone else seems to have some unique aspect about them – even Keres seems to have something about her – but me? Sub me out with any half-competent cleric and things would go the same, wouldn’t they?

Let’s face it: I don’t know what I’m doing and all I do is make things worse.

Fuego continued. “Where I was when I was gone . . . was not where I expected to be. I think . . . I think some memories are returning to me, and I’ll share them . . . when the time is right. But as I said before, I intend to kill her, even it means burning with her.”

When we had finished, Rylan took a long breath. “Well, all things considered, it could have been worse. Not great; but not bad. I think Loray and Aniel were sent to different planes. Aniel is probably a ball of light somewhere and will find his way back eventually. Loray . . . Loray is probably in the faewild.” He turned to Ruinfea. “I promise you Loray will be fine, okay sis? Now, let’s get our family back.”

“Who would be easiest?” asked Fuego.

“Well I also need to check on Tiago, Aurun, and Civar. I know Civar is dead (as we looked at him questioningly), but I want to know the actions of the man . . . and examine his effects.”

As he talked Brioche finally made herself known. She looked slightly larger but significantly rounder; spoiled rotten. Reaching down, Rylan absentmindedly scritched her. “Dad” she squeaked in draconic.

“Why don’t you rest?” Ruinfea asked Rylan. You sit here and I’ll go look for Tiago.”

Rylan looked relieved.

“I’ll go with you,” Kam offered.

“And I’ll go too,” Thea said. “After all, there’s probably some stuff you could tell me along the way.”

As the left, Rylan got a look in his eye. “Oh! I almost forgot! I’ve got something for you, Fuego.”

“Shame I have nothing for you.”

Rylan pulled out a weapon – a longsword. “This was my cousin’s. He did evil things with it, I trust you can give it a better legacy.”

“Thank you.”

“You saved me. I won’t forget it. He had two swords, both blades are now with people that I trust.”

Meanwhile, Ruinfea and Kam and Thea found Tiago and Carrion in a kind of cold storage, along with a very dead and very naked Civar, though the last was covered with a sheet for modesty.

“I hope you have a strong stomach,” Tiago said as they came in.

Kam laughed and Ruinfea said “it is what it is.”

“I must show manners, after all.”

“So, Rylan’s back,” Ruinfea dropped on him.

“Is he all right?” Carrion asked.

“He’s going to want . . .” Kam’s voice trailed off as he nodded at a chest sitting nearby – Civar’s effects, no doubt.

“The chest is his, and Rylan is more than welcome to come here if he so desires.”

“He wanted you to come to him.”

“Oh. Then Carrion, you can start with the primary incision.”

“What?”

“Begin the autopsy. We need to see what – if any – physical changes occurred as a result of his . . . prolonged condition.”

Tiago put on a newer set of robes hanging by the door. “I didn’t want to get these dirty; I had them made special for the celebrations today. And the only thing harder to get out than blood is oil.”

“Unless you had a supply of saliva. The best thing to get blood out is the saliva of the person it came from. Also, you can always just let it stain . . . for effect, of course.”

Arriving at the common room, Rylan saw them enter: a chest followed by a Tiago. He ran to embrace him, which Tiago returned, if with a little less enthusiasm. Rylan had apparently been gone a long time from his perspective.

Tiago looked at Keres and started to say something, but then stopped as he noticed her holding and stroking Brioche. “I was told of what happened.”

“What do you know of deific things?”

“Not much; Sildove is a better person to ask about that.”

“And Aurun?”

“Posted to the high patrols, last I heard.”

“And later, we need to have a talk about Cassian . . .”

“I’m not sure . . .”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I won’t . . . in private.”

“Deal.”

Rylan then introduced Keres to Tiago. “Pleased to meet you.”

Kam, meanwhile, played about with giving the box to Rylan. Oh call it what it was, it was flirting. Finally, Rylan had the box in his hands and opened it: a breastplate, a crossbow and rapier, scale mail, and gold. He pocketed the gold and claimed the crossbow. “He shot me with this thing; it’s mine now. Anyone else use this stuff?”

“I’ll take the rapier,” Keres said.

“Careful, remember you’re the one who stitched me up from the wound that thing gave me.”

Talking to Ruinfea, Rylan determined to try to get Loray back, calling to his god Titania. “He’s in the faewild, but I cannot get to him . . . another is in control now: Mab rules for six months. But I can get creative, and Mab would appreciate it. I’ll need your help, Ruinfea.”

“With what? how?”

“I think . . . I think we can use ‘find steed’ to get Loray back,” Rylan said.

We all looked at him with various expressions of either embarrassment or mirth.

“Sorry,” he said. He did not look sorry.

“I ain’t waiting six months.”

“I can plane shift at will,” Keres said.

“But I don’t want you to. I want to have fun”

“Ah, living up to our usual standard,” Fuego said.

“We have standards?” I laughed.

“If you mean cheating the system and then letting Rylan handle the resulting problems . . .” Kam muttered. I sighed inwardly.

Rylan continued talking to Ruinfea. “This is a pact with the Fae; they will require you to give up something small.”

“What do I have that’s small?”

“Be careful what you give up. It could be anything from a memory to fealty. If it were me, I’d suggest a tear – my lady will wear it on a necklace at special occasions.”

“A genuine tear of genuine emotion,” Tiago clarified.

“I have many tears,” Ruinfea said, thinking of Kava’s funeral. “The fae may have their pick of them.”

A single tear rolling down her check shimmered and disappeared. The room grew frosty and a light opened to a harsh, cold wind blew through a dead forest stretching into infinity. The light faded, leaving behind Loray unconscious but alive, without his hat or coat or scimitars or . . . anything. He wore a shirt much too large and open for him; he had clearly been exposed to the elements for some time.

“Ruinfea, if I can get his things, can you wake him up?”

“Yes,” said Ruinfea somewhat uncertainly.

“Loray is Fae,” Tiago reminded her. “Fairytale magic will work on him.”

Ruifea looked conflicted, then gave Loray a peck on the cheek. He appeared to stir, then fell back asleep. One does not fake hypothermia.

“This is not how I wanted out first kiss,” she said before planting her lips firmly against his. Loray stirred, awakened, and then held both Ruinfea and the kiss.

“For a fairy prince I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

Rylan was working some kind of magic, bleeding over a knife. “Loray, eyes on me for just a second. I need you to declare what you are missing and to whom they belong.”

“Ahem . . . okay . .  .”

“Let’s start easy. Your coat?”

“My coat belonged to Tearsson.”

“What?

“I stole it.”

“And your scimitars, your tent . . .”

“Do you want to know?”

“OK, you’re getting your own gear back.”

“My hat was a gift, though.”

His hat gently blew through the open window, which closed gently behind it.

“There’s armor in the trunk. I’m having no more part in this.”

Loray turned to Ruinfea. “And you . . . can you mend me?”

Ruinfea smiled. “I think so, come on.” They left quickly.

“Now, what about Aniel and Nyck,” Thea asked.

This started Tiago on a lecture of space-time and paradoxes and where Nyck might actually be.

“Can’t you just give us the condensed version?” Fuego asked. “It’s not like we need the whole history of time magic . . .”

“Speak for yourself,” I said.

Fuego laughed. “That’s certainly in keeping with your pursuit of knowledge.”

Rylan and Kam weren’t going to have it and immediately got up to leave. Brioche flew from Keres’ lap to Rylan’s shoulder; Keres too got up to follow. Thea and Fuego looked at each other and also left, leaving me with Tiago for an impromptu lecture and autopsy. Outside, I heard the sounds of revelry as the capitol celebrated the ends of Civar and Stormosin. What need did I have to participate? I had been there for it.

Meanwhile, everyone else headed out to enjoy the evening. Thea found some kettle corn and somehow the group found themselves following Kam into a rather seedy fighting club. They took their seats as Kam went to find out how to enter himself in the fights.

After some debate about who would introduce him, the lot fell to Thea. Rylan was too distracted by Kam’s body on display and Keres offered her 100 gold. Thea entered the ring, cracked her knuckles, and rolled her shoulders. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Crowd, I promise you an event tonight the likes of which no one has ever seen before. Standing in at (she looked Kam over several times, slowly) 6’4” is a fighter with renown among the planes. I give you Kam the Bloodless, Reaper of Souls, Binger of Darkness.

There was the standard mix of cheers and boos for a challenger while Rylan found a bookkeeper to place a . . . rather substantial bet of 250,000 platinum on Kam. Thea and Ruinfea and Fuego placed smaller bets of 100 gold each in the general pot.

The Wandering Tongue from Lymdell was the announcer for the defender. “Gentlefolks – take no consideration of the size of this puny challenger. He is but a trifle of sand blown on the wind against the goliath you will see tonight. This mere pittance means nothing to Dursil the Living Boulder!

“That’s the best you could come up with?” Thea mocked as the rest of the party bombarded him with boos and hisses. He looked them over, evaluating them and visibly licking is lips and teeth. Keres’ cloak shuttered in response.

The fight was relatively short, with Kam easily absorbing the damage while dealing massive amounts of his own. Thea hit The Tongue in the temple with a surreptitiously thrown stone, giving him a headache; he thought Keres did it.

The Boulder attempted to bite Kam; Kam sent him into the hereafter with vampiric touch. The crowd exploded, and The Tongue used the tumult to try to slip away, but Thea and Keres followed him. Rylan went to congratulate Kam with a kiss and then found her bookie.

Thea and Keres caught up to The Tongue. “How’s your head,” Thea asked.

He jumped a bit, then turned around. “Are you offering to kiss and make it better?”

Keres grinned with primal savagery, showing her elongated teeth. “I could if you’d like”

He looked at Keres in horror. “What in the nine hells are you!?”

“The daughter of someone important . . . and currently your problem.”

He turned to run, only to find himself face-to-face with Thea.

“And you . . . are you like her?”

“No, she’s a special jewel”

Keres wrapped her arms around him and planar shifted, leaving him . . . somewhere. She returned momentarily, looking soaking wet.

“Where did you . . .” Thea began.

“Someplace fun.”

“Looks like we could use a drink,” Thea said, and the two began making their way back to the pit.

Meanwhile . . .

Ruinfea and Fuego cheered on Rylan and Kam’s kiss.

“Where shall I pick up my winnings,” Rylan asked the bet maker.

“Will you permit me a day to procure such sums?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. Fine. Here, take this little half-elf as collateral.” From behind him stepped a small half elf dressed in close more suitable for late summer than mid fall.

“What is her contract?”

“Indentured.”

“I mean, how much?”

“Seventy-five thousand gold.”

“Deduct it from my winnings. Dear, you’re coming with me. And Kam, please don’t kill this man; he owes me a lot of money.”

“You have 24 hours,” Kam growled ominously.

“You have my word,” the man said.

“As you have mine as a Summer Knight” Rylan said as she led the girl away.

“So, you bear my contract now?”

“No, dear. I bought your contract out. You are free, and I won’t see you in destitution either. I will see no one in servitude.”

“I must take your word for it.”

“My brother lives in the mages’ tower. Come, spend the night with us and tomorrow we can discuss the future.”

“I could go home . . . to [insert name here]. It’s a small town, about halfway between here and Ruingast.”

“We could help you, if you don’t mind traveling with a band of snarky adventurers with egos to match.”

“I don’t think I’ve traveled with any kind of adventurers before.”

“Then this will be an adventure for you,” Rylan answered as she wrapped a cloak around the girl.

“Pardon my manners, lady, but what is your name?”

“I am no lady, but my name is Juli”

“Juli is a pretty name. I’m Rylan.”

“Ruinfea. Fuego. Kam.”

“We don’t expect you to remember any of this, it’s not like there’ll be a test.” Ruinfea reassured her.

Keres and Thea returned, and Rylan filled them in.

“So, I’m free because you won the fight . . . and you won a bet . . .?”

“Basically”

Juli held out her hand; Rylan shook it.

“Then, by my estimation, we’re even.”

Seeing Julie, the party began outfitting her. Keres gave her a locket from her belt. Kam gave her a dagger and proceeded to explain where to stab someone so as to bleed them out; Keres pointed as Kam explained. Seeing she had nothing to carry it in, Kam also gave up some belts and a backpack.

“Are you hungry?” asked Thea.

Juli nodded.

“I have an idea,” Rylan said. “Let’s go to the Chandlers.”

“Hang on a second, let’s send a raven to Bryn.” Thea said. “It isn’t right we spend the whole evening without her!”

(Carrion decided to nap, Tiago and I headed out to join the others).

Their talk on the way to the Chandler’s concerned mainly how much they’d all won, and Kam gave Thea 80,000 gold as an announcer’s fee.

#### *AT THE GENTLEMAN’S FLUTE*

##### *Fuego and Rylan*

It wasn't until they had been welcomed in by the Chandlers and the food and drink began to flow that Rylan realized how much being the leader had kept him from those he swore to protect. How many times had his party raised a glass together that he simply wasn't there for? How much had he missed because of who and what he was? For a brief moment as Thea regaled the packed tavern with stories of their adventures, the paladin simply sat back to stare off into space. There was such a weight upon him placed by circumstance and duty since their first soldier down and here they were now; their quest fulfilled, the evil defeated, the battle over. Shouldn't he be happy now? Relieved? They had won. Hadn't they?

With a false look of peace he knew a scant two would be able to see through, Rylan swept onto his feet to deftly limp between and around the rowdy crowd to the bar grateful for his leg brace and the pain killers he had finally perfected to snatch a bottle of merlot from Mrs. Chandler. A quick bit of sleight of hand to pass a few platinum into the pocket of her apron with a whisper of a genuine smile. He needed a minute, a second to catch his breath when the roar of the tavern began to sound like the cacophony in a mushroom circle in the dark. Just a moment, a breath, a reminder he was free and he would be able to face his friends once more.

The moment he slipped outside he cursed himself for focusing so much on not showing how bad his limp had become that he hadn't remembered to blend into the shadows. A rookie mistake but maybe subconsciously he had wanted someone to follow. It was the sound of the door swinging open beside him that pulled his attention with a ready hand at Holy Avenger's hilt but the moment he realized who it was Rylan felt all the tension drain from his body. "Hey Fuego, fancy a drink?" offering the bottle he had been taking pulls straight from with a crooked and slightly intoxicated smile.

Fuego smiled, he leaned against the sold wall next to his friend, his chosen brother. “I’d like that.” He replied accepting the bottle before taking a pull and handing it back.

Standing there for a moment in silence enjoying the slight crisp air. “Quite the journey we’ve had, haven’t we.”

Rylan shifted to make room, stretching out his bad leg as they passed the bottle between them. "\*Cor\*, can you believe it? A long time since we were in another tavern fighting rats." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, brows drawn. "Hard to believe that we actually did it, ya know?"

Fuego laughed, “Gods, to think this all started with rats and tunnels.” Fuego shock his head. “Well to be fair some of us had a bigger role in it then others.” He said with a smile as he gently patted Rylan on the shoulder.

“How you feeling?” He asked after another moment of silence.

Rylan grinned, stretching back up to stand at his meager height with the clap on his shoulder. "I can't believe it worked..." He paused looking down at the ground at his feet wistfully. "I've been called a dreamer all my life with these crazy ideas that I've insisted would be mine one day. I guess I'm not used to them being real yet. We \*actually\* did it."

Tilting his head to look up at Fuego, Rylan shrugged gallantly. "Is everything an answer? Getting used to crowds again. Impressed that we pulled it off. Worried the floor is going to drop out underneath me. Grateful we're all alive. Shocked someone loves me. Hoping for another fight to come our way. What about you?"

Fuego smiled listening to Rylan dart about with his answer. He nodded waiting to speak. “I am hopeful that as more memories start coming back I will learn why I made a deal with that enflamed strumpet.” He said, not wanting to risk her inhabiting his body again. “While I was mentally indisposed during the confrontation with Civar. I was gifted some answers.” He made a funny face of sorts. “I’m still processing it all.”

At his words Rylan shifted, leaning against the wall with his shoulder to face his chosen brother and take weight off his leg as well. "I have... experience... with fiendish and fae contracts; let me know if you need me. I might know a \*very\* good lawyer and hearing you call her an enflamed strumpet would have even his old bones laughing." A breath and a soft look. "Talk to me?"

“Might take you up on that. I intend to put her down. Not sure what will happen to me afterwards, but as you say ‘That’s future me’s problem.” He beamed a smile. Shifting to relax.

“I was home. Well a memory of home at least. The walls where stone, not carved but worn as if living in conjunction with the mountain. I could hear a woman singing as she moved about the room.”

He closed his eyes holding onto it. “It felt like a sanctuary. She was angry to discover I somehow found that memory.” He said opening his eyes with tears starting to form.

As Fuego spoke, Rylan simply let everything wash over him and offered quiet companionship. The way he spoke of living in a mountain reminding him of the beautiful parts of Menzoberranzan that he so desperately was trying to save. "Home is one of the most sacred things. While my heart aches it's only a memory for now I am so glad yours was so precious that it threatened your patron. It means it truly is a sanctuary. Words, memories, tears; there is a reason they are currency to my Lady and the Fair Folk. Why I guided Ruinfea to offer what she needed to get Loray back. There's a magic there more powerful than any other and that is a threat to her."

He shifted then, wrapping a brotherly arm up and around Fuego's shoulder to pull him into a side embrace. "No one ever sang to me before. A home with music, now that is something precious."

“I hope to show it you and the rest of the Third Family.” He said as he wrapped his arm around Rylan. “It was.” He smiled softly, “Though she wasn’t singing for my benefit.” He added letting that hang in the air.

"I would be honored." It was the soft smile and the unspoken hint that had the drow intrigued and he arched a delicate brow. "And for whose benefit was the lady singing?"

“She was singing for our child.” He said as wiped away his tears.  As he waited for the likely caravan load of questions from Rylan.

“So Kam and you seem to be doing well. Even made a new friend, Keres?” He asked making sure he had her name right. “I like her. Seems to fit in with our assortment of oddities.”

Child. That word that was so precious and sometimes so scary was spoken with the reverence belonging to a parent that actually wanted their little one had a mist of tears on Rylan’s own lashes. “Oh Fuego. If there was ever a man that deserved to be a father, it’s you.” He didn’t want to pry or prod too much but there was a promise of a family and love that resonated in his voice in a way Rylan very much empathized with.

Rylan’s face softened, the hard lines and weariness that so often wore him down slipping away to reveal a young man deliriously happy. “I love him. Beyond measure and reason. And for some reason he loves me, Mab only knows why. For the first time I can look to my future with joy and not dread.” The grin broadened widely, crooked with abject joy. “Fuego she is a wonder; for the first time since Jii I have a partner to fall into step with and know without doubt that should either of us slip the other will be there to catch us. The only good The Hallow Company ever wrought was giving me my own Home so long denied me. I’m just hoping you all come to care for her too.”

He might not be a bard but all of the Fae courts had a way with words when they got going with enough wine loosening their silver tongues.

Seeing Rylan’s youthful smile and hearing him gush over Kam filled him with warmth, that or their shared wine. Either way he was glad to see Rylan happy. “You deserve to be happy, it looks good on you. I look forward to getting to know Keres in time.” He thought for a moment. “I miss him too,” he looked to Rylan. “I’m sure he’s proud, in his own way, of what his family has become.”

Maybe this could be a world in which a dreamer found their hearts wish come true, and Rylan took another giddy pull of the merlot before turning to Fuego with aquamarine eyes sparkling. “After decades of being told I deserved absolutely nothing, that I was a creature bound to no future save than servitude... By the Gods, I won’t lie and say I feel worthy of it. The happy outweighs the doubt, things I don’t know how to give breath to for fear everything will shatter like so much glass. That one day I’ll wake up and he’ll have realized what loathsome wretch he’s laying beside. But for now I am happy to just dream a little longer and pray the harsh light of Dawn looks kindly upon me to spare a few moments more.”

His hand idly went down to rub at the muscle of his right thigh, the brace helping to take his weight but only so much could be done. “I think you’ll like her. She reminds me so much Calliope; this thoroughly deadly and capable woman, her bearing nothing short a queen’s, and I’m forever grateful she puts up with my nonsense. I can’t wait to hear the pair of you verbally rip someone to shreds together.”

For once the thought of Jii brought more nostalgia than sorrow and Rylan offered up a prayer of thanks to The Traveler for such mercy. “I don’t know. I think he’d probably hiss at me, righteously pissed I became a paladin to a fae queen. I’d never hear the end of it and there wouldn’t be enough tiny tarts in the world to spare me.” There was a laugh in his words, of good memories. He hoped Jii would be happy with their path but all he wanted for his brother was to know peace now among the Feywild and let Hilan trouble him no longer.

“Some of the most gracious and kind hearted individuals I’ve ever known would be considered creatures by others.”  Fuego left out a slight laugh, “To hell with those bastards that would see us in bondage.”Fuego proclaimed. “Unless that’s your kinda thing.” He added with a teasing wink.

“I will say watching her during the pit fight was interesting. Though odd she disappeared with Thea and came back drenched. I’m sure it’s fine, clearly no one important got hurt.”

He looked towards the stars. Fuego could imagine the look of delight Jii might have had seeing Stormosin learning if she could fly. It made him laugh.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Rylan chuckled at the proclamation; raising the bottle high to cheers and taking a swig before Fuego’s next words had him choking. He handed the bottle off, desperately trying not to drown in wine as his cheeks burned a furious violet. When he could speak, he let out a blue streak in Draconic. “\*Angharradh’s Tits, man! He’ll hear you! Fuego... mercy I beg you, it’s bad enough they know about...\*” the blushing drow gestured violently in front of his face once, twice, before slashing his hands through the air down towards his leg at the memory of Kam’s words. Danu spare him, his death would come of Mortification before it came of Man.

Thankfully the conversation switched back to a less awkward one and at the news of what Keres had did and how she returned confirmed a thought Rylan was not at liberty to speak of quite yet. “They took care of Baolaon, I’d hazard a guess. And I would not want to be that man if he is where I think he is right now.”

Rylan’s gaze followed Fuego’s up and to the stars and the look of wonder he had when he first saw them in his youth returned as it always did. Voice soft and free of the weight of all that tried to break him. “The first time I saw the stars, was Beltane 7924. I was 36 years old. Even now I’m still struck by how vast the night sky is; we’re not allowed to look upon it because the moon belongs to my aunt and Eilistraee is a heretic heathen god in the Church of Lolth. There’s nothing I love more than the moon and stars, I think.” He took a few moments before turning back to Fuego.

“Thank you, my brother. For believing in me. For still being willing to fight by my side. I think our next quest should be saving your people, if that sounds alright to you. House Baenre wants nothing more than to break the High Elven Curse and free those suffering under it.” There was a trickster glint in his eyes, the thought of a new war to wage a love as dear as the one inside.

Fuego couldn’t help bet let out a boisterous laugh at Rylan’s frantic reaction. Followed by a sigh that carried a peace with it. It’s moments like these that made all the turmoil worth it.

“As I said, no one important got hurt.” He said taking another pull from the bottle listening to Rylan talk about the stars and moon.

He turned to face Rylan as he turned. He smiled knowing his brother had his back. “It’s what we do for family. It’s more then merely blood and bone. It’s forged in far stronger things.” He paused letting those words resonate for continuing. “I humbly accept you help \*brother\*.” He said ending in Draconic.

“I’m hoping Memeril will be able to join us on our way to Ruinghast. I hope to be able to help her, and learn more of her story.” Fuego got quiet thinking about meme. She risked her life saving him, someone she barely knew and yet she risked it all for him.

The ease and comfort between them chased off the last of his anxiety still lingering from the crowd inside. He knew academically that he would always have those memories just lurking in the periphery of his life to rise without a moment’s notice but as long as he had the people in his life that were willing to chase the horror out of his mind to replace with sweeter memories than he would be more than fine. Hearing the sentiment echoed helped steady Rylan’s resolve that thing were not completely different after his planar adventure.

“I would love to help take Meme home. I’m hoping the Emperor listened to me about keeping her for questioning as a witness and not as an actual prisoner. I hate that Civar manipulated her and Finrich.”

Hearing Rylan’s want to help Meme meant a lot. “Hopefully the Emperor held true to his word. She deserves happiness.” Fuego said thinking about his own. “I not ashamed to say I’m saddened that I didn’t get to give Civar one last parting gift, but I’m glad you figured out a way to stop his regain before it came to fruition.”

“She is a lady and one of great kindness. If Alden did not, he will answer to me. Anything done to her will be considered a slight against Our Person as well, as We offered her protection.” There was a distinct shift in Rylan’s demeanor and tone; the playful paladin slipped away to instead show the Royal beneath and his posture, tone and words took on the weight of that responsibility without second thought. Alden was a sweet man and a friend, but Rylan would not let the man make him forsworn.

But like a whisper that demeanor fluttered off on the evening wind and back was the young adventure. “I felt the same way about Stormosin to be honest. Civar... Cyric the mortal man is condemned to the kind of eternity he had no problems inflicted upon others. It appears some deity believed he pay for his crimes in the most poignant way possible. As for his divine spark...” Rylan brushed open the neckline of his shirt to tap the grey crystal embedded over his sternum with a nail, involuntarily shivering from the frequency of the vibration.

“I made myself a flesh Acheron Configuration.” Simple as that, Rylan confessed what he had been planning. Almost relieved someone found a way to inquire without condemning him for it.

Fuego nodded in understanding. If there was one thing above all else, it was hell hath no fury like a crossed Rylan. He was a force to be reckoned with. Seeing what Rylan did to prevent literal world ending events made him think. Was it really that different then what he had in mind for his Patron. He got a slight glint in his eye envisioning how he planned her end.

“One minute, a soldiers minute, in a battle that all you get. One minute of everything at once. In that minute we learn what we’re capable of and willing to loose in the process.” Fuego turned to Rylan to see if he understood.

The relief that coursed through the Heir was tangible; the knot of anxiety that sat like a stone inside began to untie and he let out a ragged sigh with a weary nod. “I’m... not good about relying on people. Not even Kam. I was taught through my training that I am expendable so self-sacrifice is as natural as breathing. I don’t mean to worry, it’s just who I am.”

He always tried to be a better person, to stop the hell he weathered from touching another. It’s why he had bought out Juli’s contract. Why he gave Bella the shield of his name. Why he ferreted Feno out of Morad before Civar could sink his claws into her. He was as willing to end a man as he was to secure their safety and it was entropy and intent alone that caused the fickle fated coin to lean towards heads or tails.

“Where I was,” he paused to shift his speech in a deliberate manner, not to hide but to be cautious nonetheless, “one of the good things that came from it was tempering my, shall we say, lackadaisical concern over my wretched hide. I am Oathbound and I’m relatively certain that the other party involved would prefer I survive long enough to fulfill said promise with vow.”

“I am guessing Kam and Keres, know of this oath?” He asked. “It goes without saying, but you know I’m with you. After all, I believe we all have a dinner date at a yet to be established tavern of your’s and Thea’s making.” He added to ease the somewhat somber tone.

He looked at Rylan. This young man when they first met seemed as if he could have been the type to be a selfish brat only out for their own self interests, but that was just a facade he had put up. In reality he was a idealistic, romantic, stubborn and most important selfless man who would simultaneously give you the literal shirt of his back and March into war with you. Fuego was grateful his trust in Rylan was not misplaced.

“To those who are enthralled by mountains their wander is beyond all despite. To those are not their allure is a madness.” Fuego said knowingly. “The call of the Void. It’s often thought as a love for oblivion. I think it’s more of a love for life. Taking your self to edge and smiling at death. As if to say, I see you but not today.”

It was an odd look that passed over his features then; something altogether real but impossible to pinpoint as it rarely made a home on these particular features. A mix of softness yes, but with eyes fixed outward unseeing and a jaw fixed with tension. “Yes. They’re aware.” There was something complicated roaring through his mind and Rylan refused to pick it apart despite his better instincts. Utterly convinced that things would twist, turn, shatter like glass. It was Fuego’s certainty as always that gave him a lifeline without even realizing what Rylan was upset about.

“I know. But I really needed to hear it,” another small smile as he waited for his turn with the merlot, “Don’t worry, I remember. Already planning the courses and pairings.”

It was Fuego’s poignant words that caught his full attention and even Rylan found himself nodding along in agreement. How many times had he done just that? Courting the reaper all for the sake of the chase to feel alive was a high he was still chasing some days. And if he played his cards right, his courtship with that spectre of oblivion would only have one choice when it came him.

“To live within the breath and live it so well that even the Gods Themselves take pause. To make Death long for your partings more than crave your company. And to leave a legacy behind that shames the very heavens for not knowing how to do it quite as well.”

Passing the bottle back to Rylan. “One can only hope to be fortunate enough to be remembered for their good deeds.” He smiled with the memories of the wonderful things they’ve done, “From Littlegrove to the very capitol of the Empire. We’ve built the start of our own legacy.”

“I think the gods would be jealous of our way of handling things.” Looking to Rylan, “pointing our toes and doing it with style.”

“For however long I can steal from Fate, I will tell our stories. Not nearly as eloquent as Thea but a valiant attempt at least.” Gods they really did it. The Hallow Company was truly defeated and their quest was finished. They could stop now, retire if they wanted to. But Rylan wasn’t ready to stop quite yet. He still had far too many battles yet to fight.

Of course, he could not ignore that the far off point he agreed to with his mother had come to pass. But that would be tomorrow’s problem.

“Arch the back, point the toes; got to make Thea proud.” He looked down at the now empty bottle they’d passed between them and with a warm fuzz clouding his better judgment and dulling his inhibitions Rylan nodded back to the tavern behind them. “We should get back. Party’s going on without us.”

Fuego exhaled a sigh of contentment, “Yeah no telling what trouble they’ve gotten into with out us.” He said as he stood up. He offered his hand to Rylan, “Tomorrow’s a magical day, Rylan. Let’s go exploring.”

Rylan took the hand gratefully, wincing in visible pain as he settled his knee and got back onto his feet. Immediately calling his cane to rest and lean on as the creak of his leather gloves squeezed the silver in comfort.

“Bring me the Horizon, \*Brother Mine\*.” With another crooked grin, this time the edges softened from drink before stumbling back into the tavern and looking for a place to sit.

##### *Fuego and Bryn*

Fuego had opted to wait for Bryn outside while everyone secured a table inside. While he waited, He couldn’t help but reflect or how much I had changed in the relatively short time he had grown to know all the other members of their ever growing and evolving family.

He leaned against the wall trying not to look pensive nor intimidating. Although considering his size and build he was probably not very successful. He watched as travelers came and went and watched as a few animals scurried about in the crisp air of the season.

Bryn made her way from the tower to the inn and breathed in relief as she passed landmarks untouched by Civar and Stormosin.

Approaching the inn, she noticed Fuego standing outside. “Looks like you beat me here!”

Hearing Bryan’s voice brought Fuego back from his idle crowd watching. He smiled. “Looks like it. Here I thought we’d loose you to one of Tiago’s all time consuming lessons.” He said with a laugh.

Bryn chuckled. “Tiago’s lecture was interesting, but it seems so long since we were in a tavern together, let alone without the world seemingly coming apart at the seams.”

Fuego thought for a moment, had it been that long, sure felt like it. He remembered back to their first encounter  at a tavern in Littlegrove just before meeting Carrion.

“Well you know this group, never a dull moment. “ he looked at Bryn, she seemed not as small as she once was. She carried herself with a bit more confidence, sure she may have still be a bit unsure, but who wasn’t from time to time.

“How are you now that Civar and his ilk have been stopped?”

Bryn’s shoulders slumped a little. “Honestly? I don’t know. Things feel . . . complicated.”

Fuego let out what could only be described as a snort. He nodded as he sat down on a near by bench. If Bryn only knew, but she needed an ear for guidance. “Well let’s see if we can simplify things then.”

“I don’t really know where to begin. I guess to start with I’m not the same as I was before, or maybe I’m \*more\* me - I don’t know exactly - but . . . things aren’t the same. I wanted \*blood\*, Feugo. I wanted to take it from Ilmeth and Stormosin. It consumed me. Now that they’re gone . . . I don’t know how that’ll effect me.

I’ve hurt Rylan; I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to make that right again.

I feel responsible for Thea.

And I still don’t know what to do about my god situation. I’ve been able to put that off as a ‘later me’ problem, but given the first opportunity I have to sit and meditate and reflect and I run off and listen to a lecture.

The reality is that I have absolutely no idea what I am doing, and it feels like lately I’m always making the wrong choices. Even thinking back on what seemed to be the right choices at the time are now suspect.

I don’t expect you to solve my problems; they’re mine, after all - but . . . some advice would be helpful, if you have any.“

Fuego  listened intently as Bryn bore her thoughts. “ I am all too familiar with the plyte of not knowing one’s self. All you can do is strive to be the best version of yourself that you can. Ever being better then yesterday.” He said letting that sit for a moment.

“I am also familiar with the want for blood.” He got a far off look in his eyes, envisioning things of given the opportunity, before snapping back to reality. “The thing with that though is knowing your limits. Would you be able to live with yourself.? Would you be able to balance saving lives with taking them?” He asked “Something to consider.”

“You didn’t force Thea make her pact with my enflamed strumpet of a Patron. She chose to make that deal. Unfortunately in hindsight other options might have been available, but Patrons pray on people at their most desperate rarely giving them a moment for rational thinking.”

“As for Rylan, I can’t say for sure you hurt him. After all he has had a distinctively different life experiences than you. He may be disappointed, or just a bit let down. However you better believe if someone came to cause you harm.” He made a whistle noice, “He’d be leading the charge for their head.”

“Everyone seems so \*certain\* (Bryn replied) - you’re not the first to say I need to be better than the day before. All well and good, except I don’t know which direction \*good\* lies.

It certainly doesn’t lie with violence, of that I’m sure. I might be able to live with myself; but others might not be able to live with me. And after feeling so \*isolated\*, well . . .

But that’s exactly what I feel responsible: she shouldn’t have had to make the decision. Fire bitch said I was the smart one and could figure it out, but obviously I couldn’t - at the very least I could’ve offered myself. Perhaps it’d be selfish, but it would have solved my god problems and given \*her\* a rather poor warlock in return. Charisma isn’t my strong suit. In Thea she has a weapon . . .

I appreciate your optimism, but I can’t say I share it. What little Rylan has shared with me I understand I’ve done something hurtful indeed, but I think there’s more he hasn’t told me. Things are . . . colder. different. I know we haven’t had much time together, but . . . he’s largely ignored me. That sounds like I’m jealous, but . . . he’s had kind words for everyone . . . except me. But even that’s not right. He hasn’t been mean or rude to me, just . . . I don’t know how to describe it. I wish I could go back to Dewport and do things differently.”

“Well it sounds like you have an idea of which direction to go. So if violence isn’t the direction, how about aiding by bolstering everyone defenses.” Fuego said making a shield nothin. “Admittedly I do not know how cleric spells work, aside from being able to gain the truth from others and healing.” He said leaning  towards Bryn as is sharing a secret.

“As for Fire Bitch, which I like the sound of by the way, is a manipulator. You may not have known it, but she likely wanted you for some dastardly reason involving your ties to your god.” He thought of Thea and what she must be going through. “I don’t intend to let Thea be used as a weapon. I have no illusions that it’ll be easy, but Fire Bitch’s days are numbered and I intend to be there when her ledger is due.”

Fuego gently put his arm around Bryn to comfort her. “Your often very hard on yourself, and though I’m not sure what happened to cause you to feel this way, and that’s between the two of you. Unless you choose to share it. I do know though, that sometimes we can inadvertently stick our foot firmly in our mouths and grow accustomed to the taste. So inspite of that we have to speak through our actions till we can expel said foot from our mouth.”

“It might \*seem\* like I know which direction to go (Bryn protested) \*but I don’t.\* and I don’t want to hurt anyone more than I already have. I won’t see Thea used either. We’ve become . . . close, I think?

And yes, I’ve been told several times to change my actions. It still doesn’t help me know what to do.

I’m not made for making decisions; I’m a knowledge cleric, not a wiseman - or wise woman as the case may be.

Fuego looked at Bryn. She was clearly in a crisis of sorts, and seeing a vague idea of how she views Thea, he said. “Ok, let’s look to your specialty. In your search for knowledge has there been anyone that experienced anything remotely like you are? For example in stories, epic or otherwise, poems, myth what have you.”

“You already know part of your answer, you don’t want to hurt anyone, so that’s a start. From there we find the next piece and then the next one till you have the full answer.”

Thinking for a moment he decided to offer his own take. “Speaking from my own experience. As frustrating as it is to only have a partial answer, but a million questions. It is good to step back and realize those answers will come, and forcing them will only cause trouble.”

Bryn sighed. “Here we are supposed to be celebrating and I’m just killing the mood, aren’t I? I suppose I just really need to take the time and think about things rather than running and making excuses. But I don’t think I can bear more disappointment and disapproval from . . . well, anyone that matters.”

She paused. “This makes twice you’ve listened to me complain. Is there anything I can listen to you about?”

“Sometimes the hardest thing to do is face ones issues, especially alone. You are not alone Bryn. All of us are here for you if and when you need us.”

“I’m just helping get it out so it hopefully doesn’t take up Perkins the residence here or here.” He said gently pointing from Bryn’s head then heart.

He closed eyes for a moment recalling what he experienced when he was not in control of his body. “I had a memory while ... she was in control.” He exhaled slowly, “I was home, it was filed with love and song.”

Bryn looked carefully at Fuego, unsure if this was a memory he was happy to have or if leaving it had hurt him even more. She gave him space to continue at his own pace.

His eyes still closed, “I saw my wife, heard her voice, felt her touch.” He smiled, “I saw our child. It was the most beautiful moment I could have asked for.”

Tears started to run down his face as he opened his eyes. “And like that, she was there stealing them away from me. She seemed different, genuinely surprised and angry I found them, or they found me.”

Bryn reached out her hand if Feugo wanted to take it.

Fuego took Bryn’s hand. He wiped the tears from his eyes. “I only know some of the answers to my questions, but they tell me so much. I hope to show you and the rest of my chosen family my home someday.”

“Together, then, if the party will still have me. We’ll find a way to give you back yourself - memories and all.

As for me, I aim to be the person you think I am.”

Fuego smiled at that. “Thank you Bryn.” He stood up, “Now I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. What say we go join everyone inside. I’m sure Thea is regaining the customers with tails of our adventures.”

“I’ve got my tankard ready to go and I plan on using all three charges. Thank you, my friend, for \*everything\*”

“Anytime. Guess it’s you turn to drink us under the table.” Fuego said with a laugh as he opened the door to a round of cheers and laughter of merriment.

##### *The Party Celebrates*

Ruinfea had brought drinks back to the table with Fuego a bit ago and was back sitting with Loray. At this point she’d already had more to drink than she usually did so she was laughing a lot.

“Does anyone want another round?”

Thank Mab he had his cane; with it Rylan could at least pretend he wasn’t as far gone as he seemed to feel. He had lost track after the two? Maybe three? Two tall goblets of mead and that was before splitting the dark velvety merlot he had shared outside with Fuego.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he snarked back with a wide crooked grin, doing his best to find his way to the chair he had previously occupied earlier to sink boneless back into its loving embrace, “Surprise me.”

He needed to quiet his mind. Quiet the roar of his own and other voices in his mind. He didn’t want to think but more importantly he didn’t want to feel. And if he courted oblivion hard enough maybe she’d take pity on him.

“Where’d Thea leave off on the story?”

Fuego half flopped/fell into a seat at the table. “If your buying, why not.”

Ruinfea grabs Loray’s hand for him to go help her get another round for the table. She needed help as she wasn’t sure what to get this time. “We will be right back with something!”

Thea had snuck back into the kitchen after her conversation with Fuego. She wanted to check on her mother before returning to the table. Seeing Nere was busy, she waved at her mother before assembling a tray to bring back with her. She piled thinly sliced meats and cheeses and arranged chucks of bread, nuts and fruits in complex designs. Knowing that many of the members of her found family were imbibing a little more than usual she thought some food might help soak up the alcohol. Returning to the table with the huge tray before her, she placed it in the center and took her seat. "Ruinfea, I'd like another as well please!"

“For sure!” Ruinfea responded

Keres reached over to grab some a bits of meat and bread with a grin at Thea as she set the tray down “the next round after Ruinfeas is on me, I do in fact owe Thea a drink and I intend to make that drink be a what ever the lady wishes she shall get.” She grinned over at Thea  “a treat is deserved after we helped clean up the streets a little” fondly recalling the man she dumped in a place Hell would have been nicer to

Rylan leans forward, plucking a cluster of grapes up off the tray and taking a few moments to give them his undivided attention. The warm fuzzy numbing from all the wine helping in his endeavor to simply \*not\* deal with anything right now.

“Well deserved, I’d say. Valiant heroes getting rid of that \*fa'la zatoast\* deserves to bloody well suffer, frankly.” He happily popped a grape into his mouth, taking notice of how intense he needed to try and focus to rightly understand the conversation.

Ruinfea and Loray return to the table with more drinks for everyone. “Oooh cheese, I love cheese!” She grabs a couple pieces and pops them in her mouth. She knew she should drink this round, but hey they’ve dealt with shit the last bit of time and why not enjoy and imbibe for tonight. “Here ya go!” She starts passing the drinks around.

Thea gave Keres a wink before settling into the seat beside her. "I'm no lady, but I won't look twice at a whiskey." She grinned and raised her new full ale to Keres. "To cleaning house.. just a little."

"Oh are we drinking?" Kam spoke out leaning over  Rylan's shoulder between him and Fuego, "I wasn't aware all of you knew how to have a good time outside of politics"

“Well I guess now is the time to get to know us. Or at least drunk us!” Ruinfea said happily

Rylan wrinkled his nose with a furrowed brow. Worrying his lip ring between his teeth he rolled his eyes at Kam’s comment before grabbing whatever Ruinfea brought back to drink. “I’ll remember that next time you need help with politics, I’d hate to be accused of being a bore.”

Keres winked back raising her glass “to cleaning house” she took a rather long drink of her ale not sure when the next time she would have an option drink like this again

“My dear, you say fun like you know what the word means, you’re version of fun a borderline illegal pit fight” she  took a bit of meat from the tray again with a teasing grin at kam and a wink at a clearly drunk Rylan

“I will say seeing my first pit fight was pretty exciting!” Ruinfea exclaimed “So was watching Thea annoy that damn moron. What did you and Keres do to that asshole anyway?” She looks at both Thea and Keres.

"And whats your point, you've been here for the best time since I joined back up with this one" Kam said giving Rylan a nudge "Besides, Illegal fight pits are about the limit of legal fun I can have with the breathing. Save for" He paused for a moment, sliding a hand around rylan's shoulder before finishing. "well, obviously. "

Keres feign gagged at Kams openness of his and Rylans relationship and turned her attention to Ruinfeas question

“I plucked him off the street like an apple off a tree and left him where I met Rylan and Kam”

At Kam’s comment Ruinfea had just took a swig of drink and started choking as she tried not to spit it out all over the table. Then she turns back to Keres. “Well I don’t know where that was, but I hope he has to suffer!”

Rylan tried to look cross, even managed to cover up how easily he settled back against Kam despite everything going on in his head. Rylan did chuckle at Keres, flashing her a brilliant smile with his tongue pressed against his canine in mirth.

“Insufferable.” was all he offered Kam as he turned to face him, arching a delicate eyebrow. He turned in his chair to settle Kam at his back for security before turning back to Keres. “Oh you wicked, brilliant woman. What I wouldn’t give to see his face when he realized his circumstances.”

Keres grinned “oh he will most definitely be suffering, you won’t see him alive again”

“...good... considering how he treated me before. Couldn’t have happened to a better man...”

Thea took a deep pull of her ale. Kam's open comment about his and Rylan's relationship sent a blush up her neck to the tips of her ears. She turned her attention to the conversation at hand. "well if his face when you came up behind him was any indication, he's probably feeling very sorry for himself right now."

Keres grinned, all fangs and malice “his fear was immaculate and I’m sad I couldn’t stay to see what happened next”

"Oh I don't know we might,” Kam replied, “just not in the most pleasant of situations." He leaned back moving away from rylan before finding a seat some where at the table. "I don't know what he did before but, He surly is about to learn"

Ruinfea raises her cup, “To Keres and Thea for ridding this place of a piece of scum, and clearly doing it in style!” She had noticed how stylish Keres was and of course Thea always kicks ass with her outfits.

Rylan stiffened, jaw tight as he raised his glass. “I am forever in awe of the pair of you, and I cannot wait to see what else you two together manage to pull off.”

An easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before taking a long pull from his glass.

“Well Rylan, I’m glad you and Kam found her even if it wasn’t in a great situation!” Ruinfea winks at Rylan.

He softens a bit, “To be fair, she found us.” A wistful smile on his lips.

Keres smiled fondly at Rylan “well I do plan on sticking around” she raised her glass to Rylan with an affectionate smirk “I do believe we will accomplish great things together”

“Well I’m glad you found them then, Keres. I look forward to getting to know you better. Oh and you too Kam, I know we haven’t really had any chance to talk but I’m glad you are here with us and here for Rylan!” Ruinfea was starting to ramble as she  continued drinking. She grabbed a bit more cheese and some bread cause she would need something besides the drink.

Fuego leaned back in his chair after plucking a few slivers of meat and a chunk of bread. “I wondered how you had gotten drenched. Sounds like Baolaon won’t be using that rouge of his for awhile.”

Thea leaned back in her chair and nibbled on some dried fruit. She felt warmth in her heart, seeing all of the people she cared about (even the new comers) gathered together, enjoying each other's company. How far they had come since first meeting. She took a sip of her drink. "Yes, I do believe great things are on the horizon."

Rylan raised his glass to toast once more with Keres, a wicked smirk pulling at his lips and glint dancing in his eyes, albeit glassy from drink. “I pity any that cross us, \*dalninin usst\*.”

"Pandimonium is.... well like it sounds, chaos. " Kam said idly pushing the point of the claw across the table top . This really was the first time they'd all had the chance to sit around and do something else.

Entering the party with Fuego, Bryn had quickly realized that, even with her tankard of sobriety, she would need to pace herself if she intended to “keep up” with the rest of the party.

She managed to take up a spot next to Thea, and when her whisky came it reminded Bryn of liquid fire - a hot sharpness that was nonetheless pleasing. She asked for a shot of it, which she left in its glass untouched in front of her.

She was glad the others were talking. She managed to pick up the main points of how they’d spent their evening without having to ask questions. She somewhat regretted not going with them, but perhaps violence, even as sport, wasn’t the best thing for her to be around just now.

“So, Kam and Rylan, how long have you actually known for each other?” Drinking made Ruinfea extremely curious she found out.

Rylan’s gaze was fixed at the tabletop, taking in the grain of the wood with extreme interest. The sound of his name had him jump a bit, looking up startled before his face relaxed. “About eighty years,” he risked a glance over at Kam as his voice softened, “I had just turned thirty and graduated from the Melee-Magthere.”

“Eighty years, wow that’s amazing. So did you fight together? What a silly question of course you did!”

Ruinfea continues to listen while grabbing another piece of bread and chewing while leaning her head on Loray’s shoulder.

Kam wasnt entirely sure how to answer that question. Nor was he expecting it, how much did they know was the real question. Taking a moment to catch rylans eyes .

"We were...  Into some less than legitimate means of income. One of my contacts gave us the shards. "

Thea was happy to see Bryn slide into the chair beside her. She had missed her at the fight but understood her interest in what Tiago had had to say. Nudging her friend on the shoulder, "Learn anything interesting from the all knowing Tiago?" Her tone was light and teasing.

“Oh, intriguing! I know Rylan has told us his paths have changed over the years, but wow, income from different means. That’s interesting.” Ruinfea also saw Bryn come in and passed her one of the drinks she had brought from the bar. “I know you will need to put it in your own mug, but here ya go! Join us in drunken bliss for this night!”

Tracing the rim of his glass with his fingertip, Rylan grins brightly at the memory of his less than noble escapades over the years. “What my \*d’anthexukuth\* has put so kindly is that we were an absolute menace for awhile. I did warn you all of my former exploits.”

He looked up through his lashes at Kam with a smirk playing on his lips, a look they’d shared a few times recently as his head tipped to the side. “We’ve been split up a few times but we always find our way back together. Moon and tide, I think would be how a bard might put it?”

Ruinfea thought It was so great to see Rylan smiling. “Moon and tide, I like that. Thea do you think you could come up with an amazing song for that!”

Bryn was happy to hear Thea ask about her night. “Interesting to me? Definitely. To others? Probably no so much. I’m glad to hear you had a good time together, and thank you for remembering us up in the tower. It’s good to be wanted.”

To Ruinfea she said “Thank You,” making sure to clearly mouth her words in case she couldn’t be heard.

Listening to Rylan and Kam speak, she began to reconsider her own opinions of the . . . intelligent undead, as he referred to himself.

"Of course you're wanted." Thea gave the gnome a reassuring smile. She turned to Ruinfea, "I could come up with something lovely with that, but I have a feeling their story," she motioned to Rylan and Kam, "is far from over, and the best part is only just beginning."

“Hopefully there will be many stanzas to their song! Ruinfea exclaimed

Keres smiled fondly at kam and Rylan. What the two of them shared was something someone could dream of sharing

She took a long drink of her ale looking at Thea while she spoke

“Theas right” she said throwing a grin at the two men she considered her family “this is just the beginning”

"Menace is one way of putting it,  who said I ever stopped? Kam said looking back towards rylan. "I mean pandemonium only knows"

When Bryn arrived Rylan made sure to shift and move so she could comfortably join the table, all the while trying hard not to look towards any one person in particular and keep level control of his blurry and over warmed mind. He felt bad about being distracted and redoubled his efforts to focus.

“At least you can offer Tiago an attentive student. I’m not nearly clever enough to keep up when he starts spouting magical theory.”

Between the three women most dear to him speak about them, Rylan flushed clear to his ears. He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously but he couldn’t stop how soft the look on his face was considering the topic of conversation. “Start it now, Theodosia. I won’t be satisfied with anything less than I was promised.” He looked back at his wicked half then to Keres with a knowing smile.

“Pandemonium only knows,” another sip, long since lost track of how many that was but long enough that the liquor lost its bite, “But with all that behind us, what now? I can’t believe I’m saying this but our quest is... done?”

“I appreciate your support, but Tiago is something else entirely. Not that I have to tell you that! I admit I quickly lost the trail but he seemed so happy it was a shame to interrupt.

She lifted her tankard in Rylan’s direction. “To friends old,” (her gaze shifted towards Kam and Keres) “and new.”

Bryn glanced quickly down at the glass on the table and then right back up to the ones who - despite all her faults - still insisted she was family. Then she took as big a gulp of \*whatever it was Ruinfea passed her\* as she could.

“I feel like maybe one quest is done, but what about Fuego?” Ruinfea asked. “He’s still dealing with fire tits as is Thea now. Couldn’t we try to find a way. Also, I really still want to help those in need as best I can.” Ruinfea looks around the table at the amazing family she has now. She even has someone to lean on in hard times which she hasn’t had for a while. I’m some ways she wished this night wouldn’t end as they were altogether and at least laughing and having fun.

Thea leaned back, taking a deep sip of her drink. "I'll get right on writing your epic love story." She gave Rylan a wide grin before turning her attention to Ruinfea. "I think Ruinfea's right. This quest is done, but what's next?" Her mind moved to her conversations with Fuego. Dealing with their shared patron was one thing, but she also had concerns about the future of the Dragonborn.

Kam could only help but smirk at the mention of Fuego and Thea's problem in particular "What's next indeed, As for that particular problem. She is a certian type of fiend who is well within my own dominion as far as controling. There are particular Ideas I am floating around. She wont be a problem"

“The more you talk, the more I like you Kam! Rylan, you got yourself a good one!” Ruinfea proclaimed

Hearing Kam speak of her and Fuego's current predicament and that he had a plan in mind reassured her. For all of her distrust in the beginning, Kam had grown on her. Enough that she trusted him enough to fight along side him. Seeing him defend the party against Stormison and Civar had gained him even more points and seeing him with Rylan following the fight earlier today had sealed her decision in her mind. She reached into her pack and produced a package, bound in clothe and wrapped with twine. She reached across the table and placed it neatly before him. "I've been thinking of giving this to you for quite some time. I'm sorry I didn't trust you from the beginning and since then you've proven me wrong." She paused, this was the most she had said to Kam since their meeting. "I don't know many people who even could use this item, let alone anyone I would want to have it." She settled back into her seat, her eyes intent on Kam.

For a moment all he could do was sit there in silence, looking from the package back towards her. There was no hesitation as he reached out to take the box she'd placed in front of him. Gingerly lifting the twine and cloth, taking the barest look to confirm what suspicions he held. "There's no need to apologize for it, you were following your instincts and what you believed in. You knew nothing about me or what intentions I had. " He placed the package in one of his side pouches for the time being until he could truly get it some where safe. "I will keep to my word when I said before that I knew some where to keep it safe from those who'd mean to harm us and ours. "

Despite the alcohol clouding his mind, Rylan’s eyes tracked Thea and Kam with extreme intent, the tension in his shoulders leaving the moment it was tucked away and the promise that was made. “Thank you, love.” It was a deliberate choice those words; as a Faesworn knight but also from him being open enough with his friends to trust letting them hear a soft spoken pet name in common.

He was still... not great when it came to his thoughts but he knew what Kam intended and it settled at least some nerves.

Fuego watched and listened as Everyone spoke. When Kam mentioned the flames elephant in the room he had his attention. He planned on being there when she was handled, but he had questions that best be asked with fewer ears around.

He was glad to see Thea showing trust in Kam. He knew she had reservations about him, but this gesture showed a leap forward in trust.

Thea's shoulders relax, the weight of carrying that talisman around lifted from her soul. She felt better knowing Kam would be able to keep it safe. "So who needs another round? I believe this one is on Keres?" She grinned to the gorgeous woman seated to her right.

Keres grinned back at her, slamming back the last of her ale before rising from where she sat cloak falling back around her form as she stood "That it is." she looked down at the dwindling platter of food "maybe also more snacks while I'm at it."

Bryn watched the transaction between Thea and Kam without comment. When Thea asked who needed more drink, she said

“I only get three rounds before I’ve got to start drinking something else, but I can go at least once more.”

When Keres brought attention to the distinct lack of breads and cheeses and other delectables, she asked,

“Need any help with that?”

Keres stopped mid step, and turned to look at Bryn, for a second, gaze almost critical for a second, as if she was looking not only at Bryn but gauging who Bryn was a person. Keres remembered everything that Rylan had told her about Bryn. In fact, Rylan had told her more then enough about the whole party, introducing them to her before she met them so to speak. She kept what she had been told at the forefront of her mind and Keres grinned at the woman, the grin exposing the sharpness and extra additional length of her canines. "The extra set of hands would be a delight"

Bryn smiled back and, hopping down from her seat, told Thea “I’ll be right back then,” and proceeded to follow Keres in search of more food and potent potables.

Unsure of what, if anything, she ought to say to Keres, she chose to remain quiet for the time being and would follow Keres’ lead.

Keres happily leaned against the bar waiting for the bar tender to have a moment to request more ale and food for the table. Turning her attention to bryn she spoke “you’re the cleric of that knowledge god right?”

Bryn was slightly surprised at Keres’ question, but dismissed the feeling a split second later. While she wasn’t sure how long Rylan had been away, she knew it was longer than a day. He was bound to have told Keres something about them at some point. Answering the question she said,

“Yes, that’s me - or at least, I’m \*trying\* to be. I’ve rather complicated things at the moment. From how Rylan introduced you before and the story I’ve heard tonight I gather you are . . . somewhat different? That’s okay. The party is a good place for that, even if we - no, \*I\* - don’t always remember that.”

Keres looked up over the crowd to the table where everyone sat. Eyes settling on Kam first, then Rylan. She hadn’t known them long but she would burn the world for them.

“Well, different is an opinion that depends on who’s choosing the definition.” She looked down  at Bryn “you are as different from me as I am from you.” She looked back up trying to catch the attention of the barkeep Bryns words holding her attention. \*no, I\* ringing in her ears  “You follow a knowledge god, complicated or not, strange to see one who seeks knowledge ignorant to knowledge of others.” She looked at Bryn once more “I’m not as kind as others when it comes to disrespect, accidental or not. I wish to travel with you all so please keep that in mind.”

“Indeed, you are correct. What I am finding out - the hard way, it would seem - is that knowing is quite different from doing. ‘Actions over words,’ as Rylan said. I appreciate your candor with me: for my part I would wish you to travel with us as well, and will endeavor to be worthy of whatever part of trust or companionship you choose to give.”

Keres couldn’t help smirk at the use of candor, it was less of honesty more of a thinly veiled threat, she had killed for significantly less then the blind use of words.

Keres had the finally caught the barkeeps attention. Good she was bored with the conversation and was ready to return to the table with a drink she owes a rather awe inspiring Bard.

Easily ordering more snacks and drinks for everyone at the table, drinks for everyone except Kam, because why waist the booze or be the cause of Rylans alcohol poisoning if he keeps drinking Kams drinks.

She grinned and heavily tipped the bar as she gathered the drinks and with a gesture to the  platter of foods to Bryn she headed back to the table giving the first of the drinks to Thea with a wink.

Over the last few minutes Rylan had abandoned his original chair, far too uncomfortably warm from mead and merlot but not wanting to expose any of his skin, to perch next to Kam. Partially for the temperature difference and to deftly snatch any drink passed Kam’s way with sleight of hand to claim as his own. He was anxious, tentative with how much he was allowed to be without a mask here but at this point the drow could care less. And while he was able to still hold track of his fake accent, the High Elven lilt had a slight rasp of the elongated ‘s’ and ‘z’ sounds of his native High Drow.

“Welcome back, darling!” Was the cheery reply as he tried to stretch his bad leg out as best he could from his position.

Thea sat up a little straighter when Keres returned with the drinks. The wink she received, well it made her melt a little. What the hell was this. Atypical for a bard, Thea didn't do the flirty thing, not ever. Hell the one time she had to use her 'feminine wiles' on a certain drummer had ended poorly for the both of them. She raised her newly acquired glass to Keres and grinned. "Now we are even?"

Ruinfea was glad for more food and grabbed a bunch of grapes, bread, and cheese for she and Loray and of course more drink! “Thank you Keres for the drinks!” She started drinking her third pint and she was feeling it.

Kam couldn't help but to move so Rylan could stretch his leg put across his lap if needed. taking the time to sooth out any of the present aches and hopefully any mental stressors he was picking up on.

Keres blew a kiss at Rylan as she sat back down adjusting her cloak around her as she did so. She took took a sip of her ale and turned her full attention to Thea “Even, yes. Am I going to stop? Probably not” she smiled softly at her. Keres turned her attention back to the table knowing the flush to her pale skin wasn’t just from the ale she had been consuming.

Bryn took her place at the table, noticing both the seating change and the exchange between Thea and Keres. In between the conversation and the consumption of alcohol she realized she hadn’t heard much from Fuego and looked around the table to see that he was doing all right.

Every ounce of tension in Rylan melted away the second he and Kam were touching, doubly so with how he was taking care of him and his leg. With his head resting against his love, Rylan smirked up at Keres, blowing a kiss in return.

“The plan Fuego and I thought of was that we head towards the Mountain. Drop off Meme and Juli on the way and help break the High Elven curse over the Dragonborn as a whole.”

Fuego had been leaning back in his chair enjoying everyone spending time together that didn’t involve them being neck deep in combat. He had been pacing himself with the ale, though he had been getting a nice warm feeling all over.

Hearing Rylan mention Meme peaked his attention. “Yes, I would like to make sure Meme’s arrives safely in Ruinghast, we ... \*I\* owe her that.” Taking a hearty pull of his ale. “If we can manage to undo that accursed curse my people may finally begin to flourish again.”

“And Fuego and I were talking while we were playing darts that we might be able to find Kava’s parents and let them know what happened to her.” She grabbed the pouch around her neck for just a second and nodded at Fuego. “I want to help the Dragonborn for her as much as for Fuego!” She took another sip and grabbed Loray’s hand.

Thea felt her ears grow hot and she knew they were tinged pink both with drink and something... else. She took a sip of her whiskey and felt the liquid burn its way down her throat. The effect was both grounding and uplifting at the same time. She forced herself to focus on the conversation at hand. "We can take the caravan again though some of us may want to ride along on other mounts. Fitting all of us might be a bit of a squeeze." She grinned sheepishly at herself. "Id also like to look into where Nyk may have ended up. Though to be honest I haven't the first clue where to start looking."

“We can always try contacting Nyx,” Bryn said. “If we can talk to them, maybe we can figure out where they’ve gone and take it from there. Use the same plan we had to find Rylan and Kam and Loray and Aniel.”

Again Bryn looked quickly at the shot of whiskey in front of her, then brought her eyes back up.

Ruinfea was having a fun time watching her family having fun. She loved the fact that there was blushing and cuteness happening too. She was all for the cuteness. At the mention of mounts, she glared at Loray then started laughing. “Let’s not start the whole mount thing again! Maybe I’ll become a shroom dragon and let Loray carry me for once.” She blushed a bit then looked at Bryn. “Bryn, I think that’s not a bad plan. Also, just drink the whiskey. It won’t bite...much!”

Bryn gave Ruinfea a smile “you’ve seen what mead does; can you imagine \*that\*? But besides, the whiskey isn’t for drinking; it’s for remembering.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I’ve drank the whiskey, and I’m not remembering anything.”

Bryn shook her head slightly. “It’s for remembering everyone we would like to be here with us but isn’t, for whatever reason. I think there’s a phrase ‘pour one out’ but it’s the Chandlers floors and . . .  so I’ve left it here, taking in our conversation. It’s not magic, necessarily, but maybe - just maybe - our friends, wherever they might be, will know we’re thinking of them, and that knowledge might bring them a moment’s happiness.”

What Bryn didn’t say out loud was that she was also thanking the person who’d owned her tankard before her. There were only a few ways it would have ended up where it did, most of them rather unpleasant to her imagination. They deserved thanks and remembrance as well.

“To those that can’t be with us today. May our actions honor their memory.”

Ruinfea raises her glass with Fuego. “May we uphold what they stood for and who they stood for!”

Rylan stared off unseeing, not realizing how much of the conversation that went on without him. His brows furrowed together as the subject turned to the lost and he focused as much as he could considering how tipsy he was.

“And may we let them \*rest\* quietly,” his shoulders rose with a heavy breath, grateful to be tucked up close to someone who offered comfort without recompense. “Fae are creatures of belief; when they are gone they live on in the memories of their loved ones. Shaped by it. If the life lost is met with joy at how it was lived, they are celebrated at the fires of the \*Tuatha Dé Danann\*. If there is sorrow or grief still being spoken of them, they may return to fix the life unfulfilled. The greatest kindness you can give someone who honors the Good Neighbors is to celebrate what passed, let their hearts be an example, honor their beliefs, and not drag them to the living from their well-earned joy.”

Rylan raised his glass, hoping that this would not steal eternal peace from his brother with a toast, voice gentle with its finality. Resolving at least for his part to not drown in grief any longer because he knew what it would do to his dear friend beyond the Veil.  “May we all be as lucky as to be loved so dearly.”

Hearing Rylan speak of what happens to the Fae after they pass really hit Ruinfea hard. She would never want anything bad to happen to any of her Fae loved ones after they are gone. She started trying to get her head in a better space to remember the joyous occasions and laughter. Pushing the good memories up. She was still learning, and even tipsy Rylan was teaching her once again. She was grateful for her family. She leaned in closer to her own Fae, Loray, and snuggled up.

Hearing Rylan speak of what happens to the Fae after they pass really hit Ruinfea hard. She would never want anything bad to happen to any of her Fae loved ones after they are gone. She started trying to get her head in a better space to remember the joyous occasions and laughter. Pushing the good memories up. She was still learning, and even tipsy Rylan was teaching her once again. She was grateful for her family. She leaned in closer to her own Fae, Loray, and snuggled up.

“I do not speak or think of sorrow,” Bryn assured Rylan. “I simply thought all our friends deserved to have a part in our celebrations. I would not wish them unrest - in fact quite the opposite.”

“May we all be as lucky as to be loved so dearly,” she repeated with conviction.

The evening dissolved into drinking and tales and laughter until the party - some of them rather unsteady - made their way back to their rooms in the tower.

##### *Bryn and Oghma*

Bryn paces the room, trying to get a handle on her thoughts. Things had not gone the way she thought they would.

Kam had rebuked and threatened her; and what right did he have to judge her?

Keres had practically done the same, and they’d only interacted for a few minutes, largely saying nothing.

Rylan seemed ever more distant, and while Bryn could understand why she had offended him, she didn’t understand why he was taking things so seriously, why he couldn’t try to see things from her perspective.

She hadn’t expected this. She thought getting Rylan back would have helped, but . . .

She recalled her conversations with Kam and Rylan and Fuego. As much as she thought Kam was wrong about her, he had nonetheless pointed out some serious flaws in her character.

Rylan’s . . . disappointment had been barely concealed, and Bryn couldn’t help but think she was missing something everyone was trying to tell her.

.

.

And then she tried to apologize when Rylan returned from \*wherever\* he had been, and somehow things were even worse than before.

Rylan’s words of “actions over words” kept ringing in Bryn’s ears. Of all the things he’d said to her since they danced in Morad, she could not shake this.

Fuego had told her she was too hard on herself, but why shouldn’t she be, when seemingly the rest of the world seemed bent on beating her down as well?

She paced for an hour or more, talking to herself. What anyone listening at her door might have thought can only be guessed at.

Having no luck arguing with herself; she decided to try to clear her mind and ask for Oghma’s intervention. If he would even hear her. Hadn’t she just wasted time by not going to him first?

But even then, words would not come. So she went to something she knew how to do: writing. Getting out a sheet of paper, she sat down and began to compose a letter - a letter both to herself and to Oghma, trying to make sense of it all.

————

Lord Oghma, Binder of What is Known, Lord of All Knowledge, hear my words and grant me wisdom.

Actions, not words.

I cannot get this out of my mind. Is this what you meant about the story having little to do with knowledge? Is this what I’ve been missing?

Actions. Decisions. Consequences.

I’ve really fucked things up, haven’t I?

\*as she paused to think about just how she had fucked things up, Bryn came to a realization - something Rylan had been telling her for some time now\*

The reason I’ve been a poor knowledge cleric is the fact that I never really pursued knowledge in the first place, isn’t it? Keres had it right: I’ve neglected people.

I can identify a magic item but can’t identify why I’ve driven one of my first and only friends away. I can pull up an obscure fact about an arcane religion but can’t see why my friend might be hostile towards a particular god. I can help heal a body but the wounds I’ve caused to the soul of my friend remain open and festering.

Because I’ve confused facts for knowledge. I’ve focused on pages rather than people, on writing rather than wisdom, on chronicles rather than character.

I don’t have knowledge; I have trivia.

\*Bryn stopped to think about just how her lack of knowledge and wisdom had led her to make some rather poor choices\*

And my actions have spoken louder than my words.

I have failed to show conviction. I declared that I would do anything for you: I would be your paladin or your voice or whatever you might have. And when you told me what you required, I balked because of what it would cost me. I said I would give up anything for you, but when you asked me to give up myself I said “no”.

I have failed to show compassion. For how long? When did it begin? Did it begin in Little Grove, when I failed to respect Comforte? Or when I called down pain on Stormosin? Might she have been an ally to our cause instead of meeting her end calling for our ruin? Or was it even before? How many dying adventures and scholars breathed their last in my room as I dutifully recorded their tales and last words, when what they needed was a hand to hold as they crossed the threshold?

I have failed to show love. I said that I love Rylan and would do anything for him, yet when he asked me to welcome Kam, the man he loves, as I had welcomed Rylan himself, I refused because Kam had offended me.

\*Bryn thought more about love: about Rylan and Kam, and Loray and Ruinfea, and the looks she’d seen exchanged between Thea and Keres.\*

I find myself growing jealous when others in the party begin to develop friendships and relationships, wishing that I could have a fraction of the happiness they seem to exhibit.

\*it was then that Bryn, looking over the words she had written on the page, came to another realization about herself, one that seemed so awful to her that it wouldn’t be real if she didn’t write it on the page\*

\*\* But I cannot be happy because I have failed to acknowledge the truth about myself: in failing to live up to my words, I have made myself a liar, forsaking both my bonds and my ideals.\*\*

Despite my protests to the contrary, Kam was right: I have been playing games - games with myself. I have been seeking the better deal, not for riches or wealth or even power or glory (though they are indeed a temptation), but for a soothed conscience with minimal effort on my part.

\*Bryn stared at the words on the page.\* \*\*liar Liar LIAR\*\* \*but once they were out, she found a kind of catharsis and determined to keep going\*

actions over words

I have claimed to be chosen by you, but never chose you for myself. I have acted as if you have owed me something, when in actuality it is I who owe you everything.

Is it any wonder you were silent to me? I thought there was a problem; I just didn’t think the problem was me.

\*Bryn thought about what Rylan had said to her, Kam and Fuego too, and knew she was now at the precipice. She had to make a decision. She had to pick a team, as Kam might say. She had to choose, without knowing what was right. But in a way, she knew what was right, didn’t she?\*

Lord Oghma, Lord of Knowledge, Patron of Bards, the Wise God, hear my vow.

I, Brynwick Nibnibbler, acting of my own free will, do submit myself as your servant, to do with as you see fit. I am your believer, and you my god, and I will - to the best of my ability - fulfill the task you have given me with all due humility. I renounce the claim other gods may make on me, and denounce as well my own pride and ambitions.

I will seek the truth by seeking that which is good: to carry out your command to re-form The Namers; to treat every member of the Third Family with the same love and care and respect and compassion that I have received from them, as well as any stranger we may meet until they, of their own actions, prove themselves an enemy; to repair with both words and deeds the breaches I have caused in the unity of the party; to find a way of freeing those in my party bound to a demon who shall not be here named; and to focus on my vows and bonds with the sincerity due their sacredness.

I will forfeit any fame or glory given me until such time as I have learned proper humility.

I will give comfort to the dying and respect to the dead.

I will defend my party to my last breath without consideration of perceived personal slights or affections.

I will - to the extent that I am able - free those in servitude, uplift the oppressed, raise up the fallen, and give voice to the ones who cannot speak for themselves.

This I swear. This is my solemn vow.

I no longer know if I am worthy to be your cleric; perhaps you would have me pursue a different calling, a different class. But whatever course my life may take, I am yours. Grant me the knowledge to know what is right, the wisdom to know what is good, and the courage to do what must be done.

—————

Bryn wasn’t sure if writing it out counted as prayer, but she knew it to be true. She began pacing the room, repeating the vows she had written. If Oghma did not answer - and even if he did - she would seek out Rylan.

Someone needed to hear this, to witness this. If he would not listen to her as a friend or companion, perhaps he would listen as a Summer Knight. Bryn was prepared to make the same vows - bar the first, for obvious reasons - to him. And then, perhaps, she might begin making amends.

There was a long moment of silence, which was not something so rare in the Tower. Many of the residents of the Tower seemed to prefer solitude at night, be it for sleeping, scheming, or shadows. Somewhere deep within, though, maybe drifting through some open window nearby, or maybe from a lower floor, came the gentle sounds of a lute being strummed, almost absent-mindedly.

"ℑ 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔅𝔯𝔶𝔫𝔴𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔑𝔦𝔟𝔫𝔦𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔢 𝔳𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔡. 𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔫𝔬𝔴? 𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣?"

The voice came all at once from the book and the air and the music and inside Bryn's own mind. Questions that led to knowledge. A familiar voice, with a sage tone, and a musical lilt. "𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭?"

I make them again because I have lost the way. I have lost \*my way\*.  I rededicate myself to them now because . . . because it is right. because it is true. Because I would not continue down the dark paths of my mind that lead to . . . chaos, from what I can tell. I rededicate myself because I mean my vows with every fiber of my being.

I rededicate myself for I feel myself slipping away.

Yes, I need help, though perhaps I do not know how best to ask for it, or what exactly I need help with.”

"𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔩, 𝔅𝔯𝔶𝔫𝔴𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔑𝔦𝔟𝔫𝔦𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔯," the voice said, again everywhere, but more inside Bryn now than it had been before. "𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡. 𝔖𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. 𝔐𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔞𝔰𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔪 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔰𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣."

“Yes, lord”

"𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔪𝔢?"

Lord?

"𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 𝔪𝔢?"

“I . . . I . . . to ask that is to ask the fish why it swims in water or the bird why it flies in the air . . .

Didn’t you choose me first? How could I \*not\* worship you? You have been my constant. How could I not serve you?

I have dedicated my life to you . . . or I thought I had. Have you not been with me since birth? What would I be if I were to reject you?

I must tell you this question .  . . this question concerns me.”

"𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲? ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔢. ℑ 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔱 𝔞 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔤𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔟𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔢𝔡. 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔢? 𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔢?"

“That’s the rub? Isn’t it. As you say, I made these vows before, younger and full of conviction. I did not keep those vows. Did I not keep them because I did not mean them? Did I not mean them because they were expected? So many words, as you say, in my head.

But I can say for certain I have chosen you now. Because despite my flaws and failure and infantile behavior you did not reject me. You are the lord of knowledge, which I claim to pursue. It is my own fault if I did not learn what true knowledge is. You are the Wise God, and wisdom is . . . something I aspire to have. You are the patron of bards, and one of my dearest friends is one. You have given me a task, a purpose.

And as I say these things I realize how trite they might seem. But they are not trite to me. I choose you because I cannot imagine or consider or envision myself as anything other than yours.

Am I wrong yet again? Is every decision I make going to be the exact opposite of what I should do? Because it seems to me the more I try to fix things, the more I try to find out what changes must be made in my life, the more things appear to break and shatter and fall apart.

Am i even more lost than I thought?”

\*A thought occurred to Bryn.\*

“Wait. I still want those answers but . . . what do you mean I was presented to you ‘all but orphaned’??

“And what do you mean ‘from a young age’ - I thought you had chosen me from birth?”

"ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢. 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔠. 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫. ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔴𝔞𝔶, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔠𝔨. 𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔢𝔵𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡. 𝔖𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔤𝔪𝔞, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱. 𝔐𝔞𝔶𝔟𝔢 ℑ 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔬 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔬 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔢."

There was a moment, a pause, during which Bryn could feel herself be looked at and watched. "ℑ 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔱. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔤𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪. 𝔖𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯. 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢?"

Bryn thought. She had visits from her parents, of course, but as for a say in the course of her life . . .

“I don’t think they ever had a say . . . even I did not have a say until being sent from Spriggan to  ‘full the scroll’ - and from what I can tell that only happened after you appeared to the high priest - - at least that’s what I was told.”

"𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔅𝔯𝔶𝔫𝔴𝔦𝔠𝔨. 𝔜𝔢𝔰, ℑ 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔩... 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔖𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔤𝔞𝔫. 𝔅𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔖𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢. 𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔶. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡. ℜ𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔢, 𝔅𝔯𝔶𝔫𝔴𝔦𝔠𝔨."

“Rylan said as much earlier, that we ought to allow the dead to Rest In Peace.”

\*Bryn thought about Kam and Rylan and how ‘the dead must die’ would influence . . . everything\*

“And what of the . . . intelligent undead, as they are sometimes called. Must they too . . .? Have they no chance or hope of redemption?”

"𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥, 𝔅𝔯𝔶𝔫𝔴𝔦𝔠𝔨. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔰. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩."

The melody being performed changed, one song ending and another flowing in, this time with the sounds of a flute from somewhere joining it. The lights in the room began to fade, the communion coming to an end very very soon. There was not long now, and it seemed Oghma knew it, too.

"𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔰? ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔤𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔧𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢?"

“I have not progressed, but I have only been to one other place where I could look, and came up empty.”

"𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔦𝔡?"

“Yes, please. Not even knowing where to begin, I fell like I’m flailing in the dark.”

"𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔧𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔶. 𝔐𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 ℭ𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔞𝔡. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭 𝔶𝔬𝔲."

“Thank you. I . . . thank you.”

"𝔚𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥."

“I trust I do not stray far again.“

### **From Morad to Ruinglast**

#### *A Journey*

The next day, while the rest of us got ready, Thea and Rylan and Kam got up early. Thea went to see her parents one last time before she headed out again, as well as pick up Juli (who had fallen asleep in Thea’s room at some point in the night), while Rylan and Kam went to pick up the rest of his winnings from the previous night.

“If I ever find that you have . . . acquired another girl like Juli – or even if I hear you’re treating another like her . . . I will peel you like an apple.”

“The law does not limit such actions against my property . . .”

“You have been warned.”

They also stopped to gather Meme and Fenrick, who had been kept in the common garrison and had not been sleeping well.

Once everyone was awake, we split up again. Thea and Keres and I went to prep the vardo. I had no idea what I was doing, but listened carefully to Thea’s instructions.

Loray and Ruinfea went shopping to replace the items he’d lost in the Faewild, the pirate that he is, nothing but his hat was his own.

Rylan tried to use the spell “find steed” but when Brioche entered the room and began nuzzling up against him, he had to laugh. Picking up the gold dragon (who was now the size of a rather large housecat), he went in search of a proper mount. And not Kam, as he made clear.

All together yet again, we found Meme and Fenrick still in awe of the tower. They had hardly moved and seemed waiting for us to do something.

“Well, we promised you an escort to Ruinghast,” Fuego reminded them.

“I mean, I’m fine staying here in Morad and finishing out my business, then finding my own way,” Fenrick said. “And after all, it seems you are a rather large party as it is.”

Thea passed out hand pies, coffee, and tea. She’s ever so thoughtful.

“But . . . why would you help me?” Meme asked.

“Because I would do anything to help my people,” Fuego said. “And – if it’s all right with you – we’re going to try to finish your late husband’s work.”

“And I swore to help you,” Rylan told her.

Meme looked at us, then noticed Kam and Keres and Juli.

“You’ve grown since last we talked.”

Introduced to them, she responded with a respectful head bow.

Fenrick excused himself, and we all made our way out to the caravan.

We quickly realized we were slightly short on space.

Rylan and Kam argued over the merits of his horsemanship, with Kam determined to ride on top of the vehicle like a gargoyle.

“The lengths you will go to foil my chivalry,” Rylan said, shaking his head.

“You better not leave any marks on the roof,” Thea warned. “I pride myself on keeping my caravan in as best shape as possible. There are marks underneath, but I’ve kept them for sentimental reasons.”

#### *Juli*

We made our way toward Juli’s hometown, located partway between Morad and Ruinghast. Rylan rode alone; Thea threw pebbles at him, but this only made him sullen. After travelling for eight hours, we stopped for food and water, pulling off into a small inlet in the woods with a river and pond nearby.

As we made camp, Ruinfea asked Rylan if he was okay. He just shrugged.

“I’m sorry about the pebbles,” Thea said by way of apology. “I was just trying to have some fun.”

“It’s nothing,” Rylan said. “It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

Thea looked at him quizzically.

“Think back, my dear friend. Remember where I come from . . . and how I was treated. It’s not the first time a woman has thrown rocks at me.”

“Oh gods I am so sorry,” Thea said. “I . . . I didn’t think . . . and I just . . .”

“Like I said, I know you didn’t mean anything by it. But the memories still hurt.”

Fuego helped Rylan by getting the cooking area set up, and we divided up the night watches. Keres and Thea would take the first watch, Rylan and Kam would take the second watch, and Fuego and I would take the third watch.

“So what’s cooking?” Fuego asked jovially.

“Well, there’s not much to cook with,” Rylan began.

“Oh, no worries on that front,” Thea chimed in. “I fully stocked the caravan before we left.”

“And as for game,” Kam offered “I’m certain I can hunt something down.”

Taking Brioche with him, he returned with a young male stag that had seemed to drop dead of natural causes. Rylan took filed dressed the deer, giving the antlers and hide to Meme, who had taken it upon herself to help Rylan with food prep – chopping and readying vegetables and the like.

Supper over, we settled in.

#### *The First Watch*

Thea and Keres began their watch. As the light dimmed and the sun faded, they noticed a fire coming from the mountains nearby. It would not have been noticed in bright light, but now in twilight it grew brighter. Soon it was apparent this was torchlight, and the lights grew brighter. Voices chatting, hooting and hollering accompanied the torches – general sounds of congratulations of a job well done.

“Great hit!”

“Well, I didn’t act alone, you know.”

“The way that last zombie went down . . .”

“Do you hear that?” Thea asked.

“Yes.”

“Should we wake the others?”

“They’re not a threat . . . yet.”

As the group came closer, they noticed Thea and Keres. There were five of them; the man out front waved.

“Oi! If you’re ones looking to clear out the caves, you’re late. We’ve beat you to it.”

“We have no interest in such a thing,” Keres replied coolly.

“Did you mention zombies?” Thea asked for clarification.

“All manner of undead,” a wood-elf replied. “Are you lot stopping in for the night, too?”

“Rather perceptive,” Keres said, barely concealing her contempt.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind if we stop here as well to replenish ourselves. We need some beauty sleep!” he laughed, but roughly.

“This is a public place,” Keres said. “You are welcome to move further down, but we would rather not share space with strangers.”

“We don’t need to stay that way. We could have a bit of fun if you’d like. Share our hospitality.”

The words may have seemed kind written out, but they way it was said indicated otherwise.

Rylan had been working on something, because he was still up. He heard what was going on an headed over; he and Keres stepped forward, blocking Thea from the other party.

“Thea, get the others,” he said calmly. Then, to the group he said “Can I help you?”

“We were just having a bit of conversation . . .”

Rylan stepped into the light, and their attitude immediately became more cautious.

“There’s plenty of game if you’re so inclined,” he said, indicating they should move on.

“We didn’t want any trouble . . .”

“Oh really, and just what kind of ‘fun’ were you planning on having with my friends then, hmm?”

At this point Ruinfea, Fuego, and myself arrived.

“Fuck off and leave,” Kam said. A half orc immediately turned on his heels.

“You know how this looks,” Rylan said accusingly.

“it’s not good,” Fuego added.

“In fact, it looks predatory,” Rylan finished.

Rylan adjusted his buckler, and mumbling, the group moved on. And then we saw it: on the back of a dwarf was a shield, and on the shield a symbol: the open scroll of Oghma.

“Oh fuck,” Rylan said.

“He said I would meet someone,” I said half to myself and half out loud.

“Hmmm?” Rylan and Thea and Keres said at once.

“What?” I said.

“Is there something you want to tell us, Bryn?”

“I . . . I had a long talk with Oghma and . . . and he said I would meet some travelers on the road with information about the quest he’d given me. I didn’t know we’d meet them here, or that I’d meet them so soon, or that they would act like that.”

“Friends of yours?” Kam asked.

“Never met them in my life. He did say they weren’t in Spriggan.”

“Well at least they weren’t aiding that necromancy crap,” Fuego commented.

I did my best to make it clear I did not condone their actions.

Rylan looked disappointed. I can’t say that I blame him.

Rylan and Kam and Thea and Keres discussed the watch as they saw the others making camp a short way away. Their voices carried in the night air but could not be heard distinctly.

#### *The Second Watch*

Rylan and Kam took over. Rylan found a poisonous night snake, and using speak to animals and a healthy bribe of venison, convinced it to spy on the other party. It returned a half hour later.

“There are four of them: Nala Dag (female gnome), Chilton (half-orc male), Kerno Stask (wood elf male), Glor Sadez (human male), and Mara Swordbreaker (female dwarf). They are very curious about you all and plan on visiting you in the morning. They have lots of questions and little trust.

“The feeling is mutual,” Rylan said, heating a stone in the fire. Drawing it out, he offered the snake heat and warmth.

#### *The Third Watch, Breakfast, and What Came After*

“Don’t mind the wee one,” Rylan told Fuego and I as we took our positions. “He helped us get some vital information.”

“Anything we should know?” I asked, fully aware of the irony of me asking that.

“They’ll be coming to visit us in the morning,” Rylan replied, not unkindly.

Our watch passed without incident. I kept the fire going while Fuego started preparing for breakfast.

Toward the end of our watch we heard sounds. They were coming.

Kam and Thea and Rylan were already up – either they are light sleepers or they were simply ready.

They were led by the same man as yesterday, Glor.

“Well met! We may have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday . . .”

Without a word, Rylan disarmed a trap right in front of him.

“Impressive”

“What do you want?” Demanded Kam.

“To make amends, for a start.”

“Those of yours who wronged ours are the ones who should apologize.”

“Kerno! Speak up!”

“I want to make special apologies to the two ladies . . .” he began a mumbling apology.

“Is that sufficient for you?” Kam asked Thea and Keres.

Thea nodded yes and looked to Keres.

“That works for me now. Next time I won’t be so nice.”

“We have some extra game if you’d like . . .” Nala offered.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Rylan said, “but with all due respect, I cannot accept after what was done. My mistress would not allow it.”

“Oh well . . . that is understandable if disappointing. If I may be so bold, who is your mistress?”

“I am a Paladin of the Sisters Twin,” Rylan began before he was cut off.

“Oh, Mab then, isn’t it now?”

“Until Titania returns, yes.”

I was resting on my shield, making sure the symbol was visible.

Nala saw it.

“oh, you’re one of us then!”

“After a fashion,” I replied as Thea offered coffee and tea while Rylan set out bread and salt.

“I’m afraid you caught the Silver Robins on a rather unusual day for us; we’ve just been clearing out the caves.”

“You caught the third family on a rather long day,” Rylan started.

“You’re the third family?!” Mara exclaimed.

“Oh hell . . .” Rylan sighed.

“Your name’s getting around . . . you done stuck your foot in your mouth there, Chilton. These are the nation’s heroes!”

Kam and Rylan tried to deflect Mara’s attention, to no avail.

“I bet you’ve got some stories to tell to even beat most adventurers,” she went on and proceeded to slap me on the back.

“You haven’t earned that right,” I said, instantly chilling the conversation.

The Silver Robins excused themselves but I also demurred, “Sorry, I just have a thing about personal space,” as Rylan lectured them on manners and decorum.

What follows next is my best recollection; I admit that it will be hazy and gloss over what many might deem important.

Kam spoke again. “I understand part of your reasons for being here: cleaning out a cave, meeting other travelers, maybe even seeing another of your order.” (He nearly spat those last two words.) “But tell me . . . what is your real motive for coming to breakfast?”

“Indeed,” Rylan said. “Your words do not match your faces; your words say friend but your faces say foe.”

“I’ve seen you staring at our friend Kam here,” Fuego said. “Why the interest in him?”

“I mean, we’re just curious,” Kerno began.

“I am going to count to three,” Kam said, “and if I don’t have an answer . . .”

“Well to be fair your reputation precedes you. But not everyone appreciates it. We’d been told by our lord Oghma that we would meet a group of travelers infected with a certain . . . taint. We were to remove this stain from the earth.”

“And what makes you so sure he is the taint?” I asked, thinking of the other fiendishly-aligned members of the party, whether they were willing or not.

“Oh come now, don’t play games.”

“Did you know?” Mara interjected.

“Did I know what?” I feigned ignorance. “Be specific”

“Did you know that he . . . is intelligent undead?”

“Not only did I know it, but so did Oghma, and he accepted my vow to protect him.”

“Blasphemer! Heretic! False!” Mara and Kerno and Chilton shouted.

“Now, let’s not get carried away,” Nala said. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable,”

Chilton cut her off.

“There is no way Oghma would allow one of his to protect the likes of you,” he spat at Kam. “You, who come here slinking from the evil black pit of . . .”

“Silence.” Rylan commanded, and Chilton’s jaw snapped shut.

Kam picked up his sword, and in the same motion Keres stepped forward, grabbed Kerno by his armor, and attempted to lift him in the air, but he didn’t budge.

“Oh really?” he mocked her.

“Calm down! Calm down!” Glor and Nala cried out. “There is no need for this!”

“I suggest you get a leash for your dog,” Keres spat.

And then she sprouted a pair of wings, large and black and feathery, partially blocking my view of the Silver Robins. Rylan too stepped forward and then – to the astonishment of us all – spread his own pair of wings. Even Kam looked shocked.

Now I couldn’t see any of the Robins.

There was a large tumult of shouting.

I tried twice more to get the Silver Robins to stand down, even invoking Oghma, but to no avail. Even using thaumaturgy it seemed no one could hear me. Either that, or they chose to ignore me.

“You have one chance to make amends,” Rylan said in a voice that resonated with authority.

Mara’s shield lit up.

“I am Rylan Banrae, Fey Friend, Firstborn and Only Begotten Son of the Matron Mother, Heir Apparent of Menzoberrazan, Omen of Araushnee, Godsbane and Kingmaker, Summer Knight and Paladin of the Sisters Twin – and I tell you again you have one chance to make amends.

“The dead must die,” I heard someone shout, and then someone – perhaps Mara – struck at Kam but wounded Rylan instead.

“How dare you strike my betrothed? You are mine,” he said, declaring an assassination on the dwarf and killing her almost without blinking, stealing her soul with Last Word.

Keres attacked the Kerno and Chilton; Chilton tried to strike back.

Thea used eldritch blast and sent some bardic inspiration to Kam

Kam pointed at Chilton, uttering a hexblade curse and striking him twice with his sword voideater and cutting him down. Keres turned his soul into a gem for her collection.

Kerno held his action, a decision he soon regretted as Fuego sent three bolts of eldritch blast at the wood elf two to the chest and one to the head.

Nala tried healing Glor and begged. “Please,” she said, looking at me.”

Ruinfea cast hold person on Glor, who had drawn is sword but had done nothing to attack the party and had in fact tried to calm his companions down.

He dd not resist.

Barred as I was from seeing most of the action, and knowing we were still missing a few party members, I cast Planar Ally, beseeching Eilistraee to send us Aniel. A hovering circle of blue-black light hovered in the air. Then, there was an explosion and Aniel winked into existence. He turned to me.

“Orders?”

I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t know what to say, so I said the first thing that came to mind.

“End this with mercy.”

He nodded, turned, and plunged his sword into Glor, who screamed as light streamed from his eyes and he died.

I was shocked. I hadn’t known what I was asking.

“What did you do? What did you do? Why!?” I heard Nala cry.

Combat over, I rushed over to Glor and revivified him, as well as casting some healing on him. Rylan laid hands on him as well.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t know what I was asking for. The others attacked us, but you and him did not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Glor came around and was justifiably frightened.

I tried explaining what was going on, not paying much attention to Nala, when she cast “commune”

A light, and then a voice.

“What bloodshed . . . what violence Brynwick.”

Oghma had arrived.

“I kept my vows; the vows you accepted,” I cried out, not quite understanding what was going on.

“Ah yes . . . the vows. I promised clarity, and provided it in the form of my Silver Robins so that you might understand what must be purged from your life. Each of them also held information in their heads and minds that might have helped you on the quest you swore to perform for me.”

“if it’s in their heads we can still cut it out” I heard either Kam or Fuego say.

Oghma continued: “And yet you cut them down. You still protect the one who has caused so much . . . confusion in your mind. Would not removing him make things easier?”

He stopped and waited for an answer.

I looked to Kam and Rylan and then back to Oghma.

“Yes, it would make things easier for me. But personal isn’t the same as important, and I have sworn to protect him.”

Oghma laughed. “How little you truly understand. Come home with me, Bryn. Come and have peace and clarity and certainty. Leave this . . . trouble behind you.”

A portal began opening behind him, and he held out his hand.

I looked at the party, and again at Kam and Rylan.

I looked back to Oghma.

My voice quavered but my words were certain. “This is my home.” Trembling, I cast down the shield bearing his symbol.

He was angry.

“Bryn . . . you cannot forsake me a third time.”

Several things happened at once, relayed later to me by various members of the party.

Keres and Rylan, standing slightly beside and behind me, spread their wings to protect me. Kam drew his sword and held it in front of me.

“The lady has made her choice,” he said flatly.

Rylan, too, spoke. “I declare that from this day forward Oghma is my enemy and as a sworn Paladin of the Sisters Twin I will kill him.”

“And as I will defend the three-in-one with my life, Oghma is my enemy as well.” Kam declared.

Oghma looked like he was ready to initiate combat, but then relented – but only slightly.

“Very well. Then I leave, taking what is mine with me.”

Another flash of light, and Oghma disappeared, taking Glor and Nala with him - - along with my access to his powers, leaving me nothing more than a commoner.

I saw Thea kneel down and I collapsed into her open, inviting arms, sobbing.

I heard the others begin to move away, giving me privacy. I felt someone linger, and then Keres spoke.

“You did well, little one. It often hurts to do good, but it is always worth doing. You did well. Remember that.”

And then Keres turned and walked away, leaving Thea and I alone.

#### *In Oghma’s Wake*

##### *Bryn and Thea*

Thea stayed with her friend, allowing Bryn to get it all out. As her sobs subsided, Bryn managed to speak.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A pause, and then

“Thank you. Thank you, Thea. Thank you.”

Thea allowed Bryn to bury her face into her shoulder, she wrapped her arms around her friend's small frame. "It's alright, you have nothing to be sorry for."

“I just mean that . . . If I’d noticed sooner . . . If I’d \*listened\* sooner . . .

How can I feel so \*terrible\* and yet so \*good\* at the same time . . . What have I \*done\*?”

Bryn’s voice trailed off as she lifted her head to look at the rest of the party as they - each in their own way - cleaned up the mess left behind. She released Thea from her hug but still held on to her hand. She looked back and up into Thea’s face, and seemed about to say something, until her emotions overtook her again and the words were lost.

"But you're listening \*now\* and that's the important thing. We all come to truths in our own time. Some take longer than others." She didn't know what else to say. She understood that her friend was hurting but she couldn't fathom what it was like for her. To turn away from the only upbringing she know, however flawed it may have been. Bryn was doing something Thea wasn't sure she would be brave enough to do.

Bryn nodded. “I just . . . I don’t . . . I mean . . . what comes next I wonder? I feel so . . . different. I suppose . . . I suppose I just go on as best I can, right? Isn’t that what we always do?”

"You need to look within yourself. What do you still value, what do you see yourself becoming?.." she paused for a moment. "No one can tell you what is next, but if you are still interested there is more than one god of knowledge. You could begin there?"

Bryn finally let Thea’s hand go; not that she wanted to, but Bryn felt it was time. She considered her friends words before responding.

“Maybe . . . Maybe knowledge isn’t what I value anymore. Perhaps there’s a god out there who models what I want to become rather than one who holds what I want to possess.”

Thea placed her hands in her lap. "Then it is settled. You'll need to determine what it is you want to become." She paused, "I am here to help you if you need it...  You need only ask."

“Just you being here is help enough right now. I don’t always know \*how\* I need help, so if you think I need something, please ask as well.”

Thea sat quietly beside her friend. "I'll try and keep an eye out. But I can't make any promises." She gave Bryn's hand a pat. " We will get through this."

Bryn placed her hand on top of Thea’s and allowed herself a smile.

“Together”

##### *Bryn and Kam*

Looking around, Bryn found Kam; it looked like he’d successfully retrieved Loray from the tree.

She approached him nervously. After all, their last interaction was rather unpleasant. At least, that’s how she remembered it. But she’s heard him say something to Oghma, and she needed to acknowledge it.

Catching his eye as best she could, Bryn said “I . . . That is . . . You called me a lady. Not many people have done that, and only one other in my defense. (\*Her eyes looked around for Rylan\*) You didn’t have to do that and . . . just . . . thank you.”

(I'm at work so they might be delayed a bit, but it's dead so hopefully not)

Once he was done giving Loray a bit of hell about not having wings as to participate in the jest from ruinfea. He noticed another trying for his attention. In his mind it was rather unexpected.

For a moment he gave an inquisitive tilt to his head,  "It's one of your titles is it not?" It was more for his own clarification than anything else, he knew that most of the party held standing in the underdark.

"I didn't like how he thought he could treat you like his property, Bryn. Regardless of what you may think of me, no one deserved to be disrespected like that. "

“Yes, but it’s not one I’ve used very much. And there’s another thing . . . Oghma was . . . well, an ass about a lot of things, but . . . he was right when he said I’m conflicted about you. But I meant what I said: personal isn’t the same as important - and you’re important to one of only a couple of people for whom I would do anything. And for that . . . for that . . . I will do my best to respect you as well. I don’t know what that makes us, but . . . but maybe it’s something to start with: not being enemies.”

Bryn shook her head. “I’m sorry, that sounded a lot better in my head. I hope you got the intention . . .”

Bryn’s voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"If it's any consolation, I never considered you an enemy. Merely blinded by your faith." Kam gave bryn the barest hint of a smirk.

"An it's something to reflect on really now that you have the time to in your own without outsider influence. But someone wise once told. If you think you're the smartest person in the room to find a new room, cause you have no room to grow."

He paused for a moment "and if we can't grow and learn. Then we're no better than the people we stand against. "

Bryn returned a very, very slight smile. “It is indeed a consolation. As I said, I was . . . conflicted. And while I cannot say faith or religion will play no part of my life, perhaps I can . . . find a better god, at the very least. I am . . . I am not what I once was, but I will still hold myself to defending and protecting every member of this party as much as I am able. Which right now, apparently, is not at all.”

Bryn allowed herself a chuckle at that.

"I believe you can find a better one as well if that's the life you wish to follow. " Honestly he cared not what choice she made for herself as long as she was at peace with that choice. "I mean, you can still do a lot, don't short yourself, you just have to have faith your party members will back you up. "

Bryn thought back to what she had heard and felt as Oghma had tried his best to intimidate her one final time. The voices that had spoken on her behalf and the wings that had supported her.

“Of that I may be the most certain of all.”

Bryn turned Kam’s words over in her head.

“I hope one day ‘your’ might be ‘our’, though.”

"Perhaps one day, " One day if all their intents aligned, but for the time being. His party, was nor more than it was Loray or Aniel's .

Bryn nodded. “Yes, one day . . . but for now, there’s work to do.” She looked around to see where she might go next.

##### *Bryn and Rylan*

It was now about an hour after the attack of the Silver Birds, and there was still one person Bryn needed to see: Rylan. It wasn’t that he was unimportant; quite the opposite. Bryn feared his reaction most of all.

Bryn found Rylan, approaching him with nervous trepidation. Things had not been well between the two, and despite – or perhaps because of - the events of the last few hours, she wasn’t sure if Rylan even wanted to look at her. Her own emotions overcame her, and Bryn found herself staring at the ground.

“Rylan, I . . . there’s just . . . you were . . .”

She stopped and then started again.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

The last few months weighed heavy on Rylan’s shoulders; a steady building intensity that he bore without question or qualm. It didn’t matter too much about what thoughts clanged discordant in his head about it all. It simply, \*was\*.

It was the last few days that had him closed off more than usual; once Thea had begun to play Rylan simply set himself to his books and letters with his sunglasses perched on his nose. Not speaking to anyone, just scrawling away after everything he had to do while his off hand pet Brioche idly. He only stopped at the sound of someone speaking directly to him, looking up as he put his work off to the side.

“You’re the last person to lose track of words, Bryn. What’s on your mind?”

Bryn lifted her head a little bit, but still couldn’t look Rylan in the face. “On my mind? So much. So very much. Even if \*all this\* (she gestured) hadn’t happened . . . I’d still want to tell you everything. And now (she looked around) now there doesn’t appear to be much time, and I know your busy . . .” Her voice trailed off

Rylan paused, reaching over to set his ink with sand and once it was safe to do so close his leather bound journal. His perch by the fire was as comfortable as he could manage but there was only so much he could do. With his leg stretched out, brace secured around his knee he shifted to give Bryn his full attention. “I don’t think I have a day where I’m not busy anytime in my future so now is as good as any. Talk to me.”

Bryn swallowed. “Everything, then. Okay. I’ve been told I use too many words so I’ll try to be short.

The night after the inn I went back to my room for some self-reflection and prayer. After we got you back things didn’t exactly go as I had envisioned, and after our brief conversation in the bad times I had a lot to consider. But arguing with myself wasn’t working, so I sat down to try to write it out. And this is what I came up with. Maybe reading it will be faster than me telling it. Just be forewarned, I was writing to Og - to \*him\* as much as to me.”

Bryn handed Rylan a crumpled piece of paper, on which was written her pre-prayer argument.

Bryn’s voice faded as she waited to see what Rylan had to say.

(TW: Reference to SA/Abuse/Slavery)

Rylan simply let everything wash over him, face schooled into perfect stillness as he waited for Bryn to finish her tale. His eyes scanned the page, taking in the wording as only someone with a specialty in contracts fey and fiend could. There was a pregnant pause before Rylan's hand came up to his mouth in thought, idly brushing against his lip ring before he sighed, holding up one finger.

"First; 'Things didn't go as I envisioned' after I was freed from my cousin. Explain. I want to know what you envisioned and what are you saying went off course," Another finger joined the first, "Second; Kam didn't insult you. I heard the entire conversation. Kam gave you advice you didn't want to hear and because you didn't want to hear it, you got angry. Your inherent bias and privilege rankled when your view of the world was shaken and you had to see beyond your experience. And while I don't believe you have been malicious, you have hurt people and have had problems seeing past yourself. As a gnome from Spriggan you have never known what people like Fuego and I have had to bear."

Rylan took a deep breath, the entire time keeping his voice gentle if not a touch sad and tired. "You've treated me like I'm beneath you, as if I'm stupid. You lorded over me that Civar was a singular antagonist but \*I\* was right; it was Civar \*and\* Cyric we were trying to understand the behaviors of. You chastised me to give respect to a god that has the blood of my people on his hands; six extinct races of elves, the corruption of Lolth, the enslavement of my gender, the reason people like Baolaon and Stormosin could get away with calling me a whore in public, the reason High Elves would rather \*die\* than let my bare hands touch them to heal them, being spit on or had rocks thrown at me, every scar on my body from whip or chain, my mother and cousins's sadism, each time I was raped by so many as recently as that camp... That's the god you said I \*harangued\*."

His voice was ragged, blue eyes filled with pain. "I have been called Ruined, Whore, Worthless. Bought and sold by my own mother into slavery after she put me out to stud with her clerics because I am only a means to an end for a female heir. None of this I have hid. But instead of talking to me, asking me \*why\* I have had the worst of me not only expected but condemned. I am to be expected to take it; the mockery even from my friends like yesterday while we traveled here, and all the while I am expected to give and give and sacrifice without question. To the point where the man I love would rather sit on top of a caravan than be \*near me\* because he does not want my friends to have reason to hate me because of him.”

Rylan’s voice cracked under the emotion, barely holding himself together. He looked down at his hands, squeezing them tight before letting them go with a heavy release of breath. “Kam is my fiancé, my betrothed and my love since I was in chains and a collar broken so much that I had not spoken in six years before I met him. He brought me back to life, saw me as more than a toy to be broken and played with. And you called him a creature with the same vitriol as the Silver Robins. The same vitriol spit at me from The Red Woman and The First Blade that my mother knew about and condoned. So I offer you this; it isn’t that you aren’t smart or that you can’t live up to your ideals. It’s that the one weakness you have is that you center yourself in all things and you don’t try and understand another perspective. Because every breath I take, everything I do is for the betterment and compassion of everyone but myself. I bear it so that they don’t have to. My loved ones, my people, my party. I don’t hate you Bryn. I’m not even really truly angry \*at\* you. But I am so undeniably hurt that you couldn’t just believe in me enough to know who I am and that I might have a reason for it all.”

Again he paused, the burning behind his eyes of tears he refused to spend wearing him out as much as the pain unending he lived with every day now. “You have such potential in you to be such a balm on this world. You just need to trust that when people tell you something is wrong, it’s because something is truly wrong and not just blow them off because the thought of \*you\* being wrong is impossible to grasp. And if it means you need a new god as a cleric, to become something else entirely, then do it. Because this world needs a Bryn that is better than the corruption that raised her rather than a Bryn willingly tying her own hands and choosing to live in blissful ignorance. You’re so much better than Oghma. Now, Prove it.”

Tears began to stream down Bryn’s face as she listened to Rylan. When he had finished speaking, she took a moment before responding.

“But Rylan . . . that’s . . . that’s what I was trying to get at and yet still managed to fail so miserably to convey.

I don’t know what exactly I had envisioned after we got you back, but it certainly didn’t include you or Kam telling me I was wrong.

And I know Kam didn’t insult me; that’s what I meant when I say I was offended, meaning that I was wrong to take his words as I did. For what it’s worth, I’ve gone to him and we’re . . . well, we’re not enemies. And he says we never were, and being as he also said of we were I would be dead (and I believe him), I’ll trust him on that.

And I know that I center myself in things, that’s why I was so angry with myself for not seeing you for you.

I was trying to apologize, not excuse myself. I was trying to show by my actions that I had changed, but even that’s gone wrong.

Rylan, I didn’t lie. I vowed to protect every member of this party, including and especially Kam because of what he means to you.

I mean it when I say that the night we danced in Morad that I realized I loved you. Not as you and Kam or even you and Jii - that’s not what I’m talking about. But I really do want you to be happy. I want that for you. And I thought that meant taking risks or making a grand gesture. And I was so wrong.

And I know I can never understand what you or Kam or fuego or others have undergone. And I’m sorry for making you or anyone feel that way.

And even now, here in this place after what has just happened I come trying to do what I think is right, trying to explain what’s been going on in my mind and I’m still coming across as if nothing has changed.

(The tears were now a veritable torrent.)

Rylan, when I asked if you wanted me to leave, it wasn’t just if you wanted me to leave you alone for right now. I was asking if you wanted me to leave the party. Because I understand if you do.

Rylan sighed softly, moving off of his rock perch and onto his good knee to look Bryn eye to eye. "Bryn. Bryn stop. Please? Breathe, slowly." He gently placed his palms on her shoulders, brows furrowed.

"I told you all of that because it's fact. Not because you are wrong. Because it simply is. It's what you didn't know and now you do, that's all. The important gestures are wonderful but it's little things that mean the world. Things like saying sorry sure but it's also things like just hearing someone out or remembering how much they like dandelion fluff. You didn't fail miserably at all. You are so worried about the world of black and white that you're tearing yourself apart trying to suss out what's grey."

He reached into the bag Brioche was napping half in to pull out a small linen scrap. "Bryn I need you to listen to me, mark me well okay? You cannot rip yourself up because of what you don't know. Not knowing isn't wrong, it's knowing and choosing to ignore. We told you what was wrong because we wanted you to have that information and be better. We wouldn't have bothered if we didn't think you could and deserved to be better."

He wiped at her tears, brows still furrowed in thought. "The reason Oghma and his actions look so abhorrent to you is because that's the path of knowledge without compassion and empathy. And you told him to go to the Nine. You \*did\* the big gesture. And what happened? What did Kam and Keres and I do when you chose your kind heart over cold facts?"

“You and Keres stood behind and beside me with you wings. Kam told him “the lady has made her decision.” If you did more I . . . I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

Bryn looked ashamed at forgetting.

Rylan smiled softly, "He put his sword in front of you after I declared war on Oghma because of his bullshit and swore I would kill him."

Bryn looked at Rylan directly for the first time. “He did that . . . for the likes of me?”

Even with their recent conversation, it appeared to Bryn there was even more to be considered when it came to Kam. Bryn had no doubt Rylan could see the gears turning in her head.

"He did that because no one deserves to be enslaved. Sound like anyone else you know?" Rylan arched an eyebrow with the barest hint of a smile on his lips. "I know that you can't know the person I know when it comes to him, but know this as fact and \*May the Hunt Take Me If I Lie\*, I love him because of exactly who he is and how he is to me. And you know me, so what do you think that says about him?"

“It says that if he has your love in the way it’s rather obvious he has it, then he must be a man of priceless quality.”

Bryn paused as she played back what Rylan had said.

“Did you \*really\* declare war and swear to kill him?”

Rylan grinned broadly, chuckling softly under his breath. "Exactly. And yeah I did. Because I plan on making the Old Gods pay for their sins and I only started with Cyric. Oghma is \*mine\* and he will rue the day he crossed me and mine."

Bryn returned the smile.

“Can I watch?”

Bryn paused a beat.

Because I may no longer be a cleric and who knows what that means for my vows and my bonds and my magic is \*completely\* gone and I am now the most useless member of this traveling party . . .”

Bryn caught herself getting carried away.

“Because he lied to me Rylan, he \*lied\*. He came to me and accepted my vows not but two nights ago. He promised me clarity and free will and help . . . then he sets an ambush and asks me to break them? What kind of a god would do such a thing?

And I was going to tell you Rylan, I was headed out the door  ready to make the same vows to you and I remembered how much I’ve said in the past that hasn’t amounted to anything, but I should have told you. I should have told you and then we would’ve been prepared.

You say that you tell me things I don’t know so I can make better choices, but my choices haven’t exactly been stellar, have they?

Well I can tell you this much, if there’s any god out there who would still have me, I want one who models what I hope to become rather than one who holds the things I long to possess.”

Now that she wasn't crying anymore, Rylan sat back onto his left heel, stretching out his bad leg and taking the weight off of the aching joint that held by the grace of his brace alone. "Well to be fair you could still be a cleric, just not his. As for the rest; yeah he lied to you and manipulated you, gods are immutable and they will damn themselves more often than not because of their own fallacies. It's why as angry as I am at Labelas Enoreth and Corellon Larethian I also know it's because they can't help the fact that they cannot be anything other than they are. Mortals have the ability to adapt and change, the gods are bereft of Entropy."

In a fluid motion Rylan tucked both of his legs beneath him, sitting crossed legged so he was still on eyeline with her. "I think I can guess what happened. He thought in his 'infinite wisdom' that you had lost your way, considering Kam was with you when we went to see him. And when you made your vow to protect us and included him in it clearly you had 'strayed' or 'lost your path' or whatever. So I'm betting the bastard put a hit out on my boyfriend to 'spare your feelings' but get you back in line. Help remove what was clearly the problem in his eyes. Bastard..."

He offered her question a gallant shrug, "I've made shite decisions too. I mouthed off to Orcus and paid the price. I thought we were untouchable and one of the people I was sworn to protect died. And that's just one of my recent failures. But I just need to try and learn from it and do better tomorrow. As for gods; fuck Oghma. And fuck that," he gestured with an open palm at the mark on her hand that caused such strife, "whatever it deems itself to be today being as well. Chose someone that fits you. Here; tell me what the core of who you are is. What are the most important pillars of you as a person and your soul. And I'll toss out some names."

“And, me being me, he thought my pride and arrogance and self-centeredness would internally say  ‘He had it coming’? I guess I picked a hell of a day to try to exercise free will.

As for me and who I am and what I want now?

(Bryn looked out at the party)

One who values equality. One who would look at \*all\* of us as say “this is good.”

Words are in my blood. I don’t know about knowledge anymore, but what about what brings people joy: stories and songs and music and food. Good food with the recipes handed down, not hoarded, so that many can enjoy the fruits of ones labors.

Someone who is compassionate,  who says the right thing at the right time, who offers aid when it is most needy.

(Bryn got a look in her eye which she quickly shook away)

But one who also knows that vengeance must also be swift and sometimes terrible.

. . .

I am few, if any, of those things. But that is who I would hope to be.

As for names, I welcome your suggestions, though I will admit one already turns in my mind.”

Rylan grinned crookedly at that comment before taking a moment to think about what kind of fit might help, a small part of him proud for being a paladin not just in might and battle but in guidance.

"There are a few that immediately come to mind. There's Sune or Lady Firehair; goddess of love, beauty, passion, and art. She's a deity from Faerûn or Toril and all she wants is to protect the beauty of the world from being corrupted or broken. To follow one's heart and let true love conquering all."

"There’s The Dagda of the Tuatha De Danann, Father, Druid, king of kings; with dominion over fertility, agriculture, strength, magic, and wisdom. He's Fae, like my Lady, but whereas she is sidhe he is Tuathan creator deity in companionship with his wife, Danu. But any of my Lady's kin might work: Verenestra, Oberon, Sqeulaiche, Emmantiensien, or even Lurue if you wanted to perhaps lean towards someone archfey?"

"If you wanted perhaps someone of the Norse there's Freya, goddess of magic, mistress of the valkyries, life, and love. She has a soft spot in her heart for women called to be clerics."

"There’s Manwë, the Windlord, is the elven god of Wind, Foresight, Law and Knowledge known for being merciful and protector of the innocent since you seem to have a pull to empathy for the elven gods, maybe it's for a reason."

"There is the Raven Queen," he tilted his head to show off the silver raven skull earring that had been there for decades now, "A lady I have a dear connection to. She's a goddess of Death, Fate, and Winter."

"And well, there’s also Eilistraee. Lady Silverhair, the Dark Dancer of beauty, dance, freedom, hunting, moonlight, song, nature and sword work.”

Bryn followed along as best she could. Rylan’s knowledge of deities seemed extensive and encyclopedic. She smiled at that thought. She appreciated the rundown with each one; she felt most drawn toward the women.

“Can you tell me more of Freya and the Raven Queen? I don’t need a complete history, just . . . just a teeny-tiny little bit more to go on.

And yes, there is Eilistraee. She helped us out of the plane of knowledge and into sanctuary. She is The only god I’m aware of that helped me specifically without asking for anything in return. Without expecting anything in return. Without trying to manipulate events. Simply gave, because I asked. If I never cast another spell, I’m honored that she saw fit to answer my request for Aniel. If she would have me . . .”

Bryn’s voice trailed off in clear admiration.

“And of course, I have a soft spot in my heart for a good dance.”

Bryn couldn’t resist flashing a good-natured smile with her last remark.

"Of course! Freya is queen of the gods and ferocious, equally balanced with battle as well as with magic. She expects her followers to be able to hold their own, make their choices and pick themselves up by their bootstraps but she is a mother. The kind that loves her children and wants them to succeed. As for the Raven Queen; she is like her namesake. Collecting fragments and mementos from the living and the dead like a corvid with a shiny. She makes people face their pain and fears so that they can glean wisdom in life and peace in death. All three of them I respect, though Eilistraee and The Raven Queen I am closer to and have a strong bond, so beware of my personal bias."

Bryn smiled. “In this case I think personal bias might be an asset. Any god who has earned your respect I’d consider a god worth following. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Bryn stopped and paused.

“And thank you for not giving up on me.”

Bryn smiled again. For the first time since Lymdell she felt that her and Rylan’s relationship had begun to improve.

His smile softened a touch, “My aunt Eilistraee is a good god. I think you might want to ask after her with Aniel. I think she’d be a good fit. And I’m glad I could help.”

At her words, Rylan nodded sagely, “You’ve given me no reason to, especially after all this. Just, have faith in us all? I haven’t led you all astray yet.”

Bryn considered her words carefully; she did not want to undo everything with yet more carelessness.

“Of course I have faith in you all, though I readily admit that’s sometimes hard to see. If anything, these last few days have given me a certain \*clarity\* about my words and actions.”

Bryn gave an chuckle tinged with irony as she thought of how Oghma had used that word.

Their conversation seemed to be over for the time being, and Bryn was sure she’d kept Rylan longer than intended. She looked at him with love in her eyes and hope on her face.

Bryn thought about offering Rylan a hug, but something stopped her. The way Rylan had been used . . . his aversion to touch . . .

So instead she placed her palm over her heart and simply said

“Thank you  . . .”

And even though her mind was still uncertain, she turned with a smile on her face and confidence in her heart.

Rylan nodded once, ghost of a small smile on his lips. “You’re quite welcome Bryn. Speak to Aniel. He’ll be able to guide you better from here.”

##### *Thea and Ruinfea and Rylan*

Ruinfea noticed Bryn talking to Rylan, and then She walked over to Thea. “Hey Thea, I want to go check in on Rylan, do you want to go with me?”

Thea had had a very trying morning. Righting the caravan wasn't easy and the repairs that needed to be made were fiddly. She had spend a good chunk of her time focused on that. She hadn't seen Ruinfea approach. At the sound of her voice Thea let out an exasperated breath. "Sure. I could use a break from this."

“I’ve got some water, do you need some?” She knew Thea had been hard at work and those silver idiots had cause a lot of issues with the caravan. “Also, when we are done talking with Rylan, just give me a task and I can help how I can. Loray is working on other stuff so I have a bit of time.” She hands some water to Thea as she gets up.

Thea gratefully took a swig of the water. "I'm nearly done. The repairs aren't too hard, just time consuming." She stood beside the caravan that had been her home for as long as she could remember and placed a hand in the wooden siding. "She's old but it'll take more than that lot to do her in."

“Well I’m glad it’s an easy fix. I’d be so lost trying to fix something like this. Well definitely take a break.” Ruinfea starts walking toward where Rylan is.

Rylan had been sitting by the fire, the work he had been focused on cast to the side after his conversation with Bryn. After the shift from his rock perch, to one knee to speak to Bryn, to crossed legged on the ground Rylan’s leg was a lance of fire. It didn’t help that he had spent the better part of the day before on horseback or the skirmish with the Silver Robins. Stiffly he found his way back to his stone to carefully sit down and sheer stubbornness kept him from hissing in pain too audibly.

One gloved hand dug into his bag to produce the tablets he had been working on for pain, dry swallowing two before adjusting his brace and turning back to his book. He had managed to complete two more sentences, setting the wet ink with sand, before he noticed he had company and the ledger went back off to the side to give Ruinfea and Thea his full attention.

Ruinfea arrives at the campfire where Rylan is. She can tell he’s in pain, but she won’t say anything as she knows he tries so hard to hide it. “Hey, Rylan, wanted to come check on you and see if you needed any help. Plus we haven’t talked in a bit and thought it would be nice to catch up.” She sat down on a stone near Rylan

Thea took a seat by the fire. Quietly she picked up a stick and began poking at the logs, adjusting them to burn more efficiently. She was content to let Ruinfea do the talking, as she had so much going on in her head she didn't want to just start spewing words. Once she started she might not be able to stop herself.

As the pair of them settled in Rylan began packing up his ledger, resolving to do some work before turning in for the night. "Unless you have a mind for trade negotiations and rebuilding an economy after abolishing an entire former resource, I'm not sure you can but the sentiment is appreciated."

He looked between the pair of them, his face schooled into that very familiar neutral though his brows did furrow in thought. Without a look, Rylan scooped up Bri mid-attempt to sneak into the small pouch he keeps her pearl snacks in. Wyrmling lifted to replace with his notekeeping before depositing his errant child onto his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

“Honestly I just wanted to check up you on. Lots of stuff evidently went down when you were in the other plane of existence. I mean you have wings now? That’s pretty cool!”

Thea's ears perked up at the mention of Rylan's wings. She couldn't help but notice that particular new addition and it made her wonder at what else had gone down during his time on the other plane. "I also couldn't help but hear the word betrothed." She flashed a grin at her friend. "Does that mean there will be a wedding..." Her eyes remained on the flames before her.

Rylan ran a hand through his short hair, the leather ruffling the soft waves a bit sheepishly. "Yeah... Though to be fair it's from one of my tattoos. I've four of them now."

For a moment he contemplated how he could show them off and settled with the easiest first. Rolling up his left sleeve to show off the raven skull with belladonna and death's cap mushrooms. "There's a Lady I served before Titania and Mab." He tilted his head a bit, showing off the silver raven skull earring he had been wearing for decades now. "This one is her gift of Black Arrows. When I do this," he rolled his wrist and a long shadow steel arrow appeared in his palm, fletched with feathers that gleamed obsidian with a divine aura to them holding it just long enough for them to get a good look before willing it back where it would wait for him later, "I can summon them. They're death kissed and bonded to me through my old assassin order."

He then ran a palm along his left thigh, a roll of his shoulders, and then a quick drag of gloved knuckles down his ribs on the right side, "That one is my Masquerade tattoo, which is how I could shift into Cassian. The ones on my shoulders and arms are my wings, my tattoo of The Raven Queen and another here on my ribs."

It was Thea's comment that had Rylan freezing a heartbeat, completely forgetting until now what he had let slip. "I \*really\* shouldn't have said that yet, and it's not the most safe to talk about right now considering who may be listening. But what I \*will\* say is that outside of a ceremony, yes. Legally..." His eyes locked with Thea before being cast down to his bag, hoping she would understand.

Thea caught Rylan's eyes. She understood the need for secrecy. With her fingers she mimed turning a key over her lips and gave him a curt nod.

“Those tattoos are brilliant. I can’t even imagine. As for the other thing, your secret is safe with us. I am happy for you!” Ruinfea knew about keeping secrets, and she wouldn’t let this slip. She had realized how to keep her mouth shut at this point and tried to think before she spoke anyway. She was extremely happy for her brother.

"They certainly help," the fact that the pair seem to understand at least this need for secrecy lifted a weight off of his shoulders and gave Rylan the opportunity to make other things clear, "Everything I do is under scrutiny; every action of mine or of those I associate with can determine my future. If I'm to lead my people I need to be believed capable of it. So I need to be deadly and serve as a symbol. It also means that if people show a blatant lack of respect or delight in mocking me that I'm weak and will end in someone like me coming as a blade in the night or poison in my drink. Or to do the same thing to my chosen to sit by my side. I also have the lovely uphill battle of being a male ruler; my people have never had one, and with my history of enslavement and other things the likes of which Baolaon voiced well, even more so reason for a rather \*abrupt\* end to the Baenre Dynasty... "

Rylan's voice was tight, each word clipped in the High Elven accent with a weight on each syllable. Saying without saying how some actions looked to an outside eye; how the lack of respect and mockery not only would end in him being assassinated but also how much it hurt him. And while the Rylan of not too long ago was used to being made to feel like less than a person by family, enemy, and party members alike things were different now. Mocking him, making him the butt of their jokes, throwing stones at him exactly like the clerics used to simply to see if he would fall and rankle at his collar and chains put not only his life at risk but Kam and Keres as well.

"Something that \*\*will not\*\* happen again, or We will be forced to react accordingly. Are We understood?"

He didn't want to immediately turn the conversation to this direction but it was apparent that his party simply didn't think of his history and how they were making him feel but of the ramifications it could have if someone had seen them pitch rocks at and openly mock the \*Valshar\* of Menzoberranzan.

Thea's back straightened as Rylan spoke. Knowing his words were pointed directly at her. Her eyes burned. She hadn't meant to be disrespectful yet her actions had come off that way. She merely wanted to catch his attention, ease some of his seriousness that had consumed him lately. "I said that I was sorry..." Her voice stuck in her throat. She understood that 'sorry' could/would never be enough. It was a foolish move  on her part. She had gotten too caught up on herself to realize how her actions would come off. "And I'll keep saying it.. I just don't know how I can make it up to you." The truth was she hadn't felt herself since striking her deal with her patron. She felt a part of herself slipping into a darkness she wasn't prepared to face.

Ruinfea sat quietly. Listening.

Rylan softened, closing his eyes with whatever thought in his head came true. "Thea... I know. But I need you all to understand what is at stake here. Your apology means everything, but I can't let it happen again. You don't need to apologize anymore but know that if we were gods forbid somewhere people could have seen..."

Rylan opened his eyes to stare at the ground in thought, posture ramrod straight despite the pain. "I look like a weak leader when I allow people to mock me. When my lover would rather cling to the top of a caravan than ride with me. Remember how easily Baolaon called me 'Whore' in public? \*All of this\* is what I am fighting against. And if I don't draw a line in the sand on this now, I will die by one of my own assassin brothers."

Rylan grit his teeth, thinking on how he wished he could have kept his mouth shut and idly thinking of how much simpler things were when he was at the Lovelocke estate in a collar. Perhaps this was why he was told so often he would be unfit an heir and he felt his newfound wall of ice he kept up between himself and \*everyone\* else lately even Kam settle back around. "These are the things that have been on my mind you wanted to catch up on."

“I will keep all of this in my mind, Rylan. I can’t imagine your place, but I want to make sure what I do helps. You are an amazing leader. I cannot imagine what my life would be without having met you. You’ve changed me and are still doing so. You are in such a tight spot and I’ve never been in any spot like this. I am here for you. If I need to be better, I will.” Ruinfea teared up a bit thinking about life without Rylan. She couldn’t bare to think this way. She had to be strong too. She had to follow her brother and learn how to be the person she needs to be.

Thea stood. "It won't happen again." She strained to keep hold of her emotions following the verbal lashing. On a scale of how harsh she knew Rylan could be this barely registered yet she felt terrible. She felt she had betrayed him in a way she couldn't undo.

"If you don't mind, I need to get back to my repairs otherwise we won't get on the road any time soon." With that she strode off, hot tears burning their way down her face. She didn't like that he had made her cry and she hoped to the gods no one saw.

Once at the caravan she climbed in under the guise of putting things back in order.

---Thea exits stage right...---

Rylan drew in a controlled breath, offering Thea a nod of his head in answer. "Of course." It took awhile before his eyes rose from the flames before him, making a mental note to stir the coals again soon. For Ruinfea he offered a tight, closed lip smile barely longer than a heartbeat. "I would appreciate that, thank you." There was so much he wanted to say, do, but all he could manage was maintaining control. Always Control.

“If you need to get back to your ledgers, I can try to go find Loray. I haven’t annoyed him since he had to get that tent from the tree. I am always here and if you need me, just ask. You are my friend, my family, my brother, I will do what you need me to in the upcoming days or years whichever happens.” She knew he probably wanted to be alone and figured mentioning the ledgers might give him an out so he could be alone. She knew what it meant to need to be alone even if she didn’t know to the extent Rylan was dealing.

It took a moment for him to find a bit of warmth to let into his features, nodding off in Loray’s direction by the caravan, since last he knew the pirate captain was half in a tree perched on the shoulders of one of their four warlocks.  “Go find your boyo.”

He let her words roll over him and the gratitude he felt was immediate and soul deep. “I truly appreciate it, Ruinfea. More than I can rightly say.”

And once she wandered off he focused his attention to the fire, stoking the embers deep in thought.

##### *Ruinfea and Loray*

Ruinfea was off in search of Loray. She figured she’d look for the hat and find him that way. The camp wasn’t that large so it shouldn’t take long. She needed to get her mind off of everything for a bit and the best way to do that was to find Loray.

Loray gave his appreciation to Kam to helping him get his tent out of the tree, complete with a genuine smile of appreciation. He settled against a tree and proceeded to go through the process of untangling the ropes, and checking the canvas for any holes or tears. It was going to be a careful process that would take some time, but it needed to be done. He sighed deeply, not excited for the task, but bearing down on it anyway.

Ruinfea saw Loray sitting under the tree in a tangle of ropes which looked hilarious. She smiled and skipped over to him. “Hey, you need some help with that? You look like you had a fight with these ropes.”

A bit of his irritation at the task seemed to smooth away at Ruinfea's approach. "Oh, trust me, 'Fea, I know my way around ropes," he said with mild amusement. "And it wasn't me who had a fight with them. It was the air, and the tree, and the divine blowhard who put them there."

“Oh I bet you know your way around ropes.” She winked at him. “Of course you may not have made the mess, but you are the one having to deal with the after affects. How did inside the tent fair? Is everything still in order?” She picked up some of the ropes and started helping untangle them her curly hair blowing in the breeze.

"Of course, I do!" he said, mock shock in his tone. "I am a sailor. We know our ropes." He shrugged at her next comment. "What else is new? It's what a captain does, any leader will tell you that." He coiled the rope by his feet as he unraveled it, his eyes checking every inch for weakness or snags as he went. "One mistake, and the whole thing could come crashing down the next time we use it... and sadly, the tent only works if everything is intact. And the magic? It won't work for another day or so. I can only cast it once a day, and Oghma destroying it starts the timer all over again. So it is all just a wait-and-see... but if I don't do this now, than it will be a never-at-all."

“Well let’s get it in ship-shape then!”  She chuckled. Then she remember Rylan and Keres’s wings. “So you don’t have any secret wings I should know about. Seems everyone has them  these days!” She still knew so little about him, so who knew what was happening.

He sighed, trying to let go of his frustration over the whole thing. Sometimes he felt like he put too much thought into things... like his words always had more than just one meaning. He supposed it was his fae sensibilities that made it happen. He breathed out again, and let that smile come back to his features. The one that tried to say that all was well, and he was as light as ever. "No, no wings that I know of. So if I sprout them suddenly, it will be as much as a surprise to you as it is to me."

She didn’t understand why he suddenly looked distraught. Had she done something to upset him. He started smiling again and it made her more concerned. What was he having to hide. What was going on in that Fae mind of his. She wouldn’t pry. “I’m sorry if the whole wing thing upset you. I didn’t intend it. I know there are things you haven’t and can’t tell me, and that is fine.” She moved some hair from his face and put her hand in his cheek. “I’m here either way, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Oh, and don’t worry, I can be the wings for both of us!”

##### *Bryn and Keres*

———

Crossing the field, Bryn noticed Keres not far from Kam. Had Keres been there before and she not noticed?

She wondered if she should say something. The two of them had only talked once or twice, and Bryn couldn’t help but remember the rather polite way Keres had told her not to screw things up again.

But Bryn felt she had to say something, so she steadied herself as best she could and approached the woman who had done so much to instill fear into the Silver Robins.

“Um . . . Keres?” she asked hesitantly. “Do you have a minute?”

Keres turned sharply as the voice drew her from her thought her new soul stone clenched in her hand. She studied the other woman for a second wondering what questions she was about to be asked before straightening herself and replying “I have a few.” She took a few steps off to the side to give them a little privacy but still staying rather close to the people she trusted.

Bryn noticed the rather quick movements Keres had made.

“If I interrupted something . . . I’ll be quick. With everything that happened, I’m afraid I didn’t realize just what everyone did for me today.

And I know we haven’t spoken that much, though you seem to know an awful lot about me, but . . . well, I know you didn’t have to do that. And I \*do\* remember what you said about doing good.

I just wanted to say thank you; I meant no disrespect if you felt I was ignoring that.”

She smirked as Bryn spoke "Your right, i didn't have to do that. But if you remember what i told you in the bar, im not as nice when it comes to disrespect, and they were disrespecting me and mine." she said nodding her head over to where she knew Kam was standing. "I mean no disrespect bryn but you were secondary to who i was defending. That being said, standing in between them and you was icing on the cake. They were willing and ready to kill others who were defending someone they saw in their order. Being in their way was a display that made its point clearly." The God of knowledge had made some powerful enemies today was he aware of that? she found herself wondering what color stone his soul would be, as she rolled the stone that held the soul of the elf in her hand only half noticing that her claws had left marks in her palm with how tight she had been holding the stone. shifting her attention back to Bryn she spoke "you did the right thing. Denying him. There are other beings of knowledge, and even other beings in general that you can follow or swear yourself to that may better suit how you wish to live the rest of your life." she took a breath "So your thanks aren't necessary, The best thanks you can give is to do better then the actions of those who had wrongs us. They were of your order, prove yourself better then them and their ideals."

“No disrespect taken,” Bryn replied. “There are obviously bonds of which I know little. (\*she thought how often the words ‘me and mine’ had been said that day - and by whom\*.) And yet I wanted to acknowledge aid, even if it was considered secondary, as you say.

Others have given me sound advice today, and you as well.

Time is precious; I’ll leave you to your work.”

With a slight bow of acknowledgment, Bryn made to excuse herself.

Keres gave Bryn a small nod she was right with that one. Time is precious. Keres spoke as Bryn turned to leave "Don't rush your decision with this. Not for the party and not for yourself. Time may be precious bryn, but friends are more so. Take the time you need to decide what to do and how you want to do. Find what right for you, because in the end whats right for you will be whats right for them because you will be resolute in what you do." she smiled as she recalled what bryn had said to her in the bar "it wont be complicated." she held her hand out to bryn an offering for a handshake "you have a good team with you to make sure you have that time"

Bryn wasn’t expecting Keres to respond, let alone extend her hand, and it took her a split second to realize she herself wasn’t moving. She began extending her hand somewhat uncertainly, not out fear or trepidation, but with the sense that if she so much as breathed wrong the moment would be over.

As her hand found Keres’, Bryn tried to be firm. She recalled how \*confident\* Keres always seemed to be, and if she was willing to extend a hand to Bryn . . .

She shook Keres’ hand with as much of her own confidence as she could muster - which at the time may not have been much at all - trusting that Keres would understand. She looked up at Keres with a smile of determination and appreciation.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and let go Keres’ hand.

##### *Fuego and Meme*

After helping Meme and Juli up and out of the knocked over caravan. Fuego knelt down to see if Juli was hurt before looking up with obvious concern for Meme. “Are you ok?”

Juli showed remarkable resilience at being tossed around by Oghma's tantrum. In fact, she had immediately thrown herself over to Meme to make sure that she would be safe during the whole affair. While she walked away with a brief scratch on her arm, at worst it would bruise and heal in no time. Looking at it, though, she certainly kept Meme from being knocked around even more.

Juli was already helping Meme to her feet as Fuego approached. She turned to Fuego, perhaps a bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed. "Oh, of course, Mr. Nevermere. Hardly a worry. I have been dealt much worse."

He reached into his bag and pulled a cloth out tearing it into a longer strip. He wrapped it around Juli’s arm. It probably didn’t need a bandage, but he didn’t want her to get an infection.  “You can call me Fuego.” He said as he tied off the impromptu bandage. “Why don’t you see if anyone else could use a hand.” He said with a soft smile.

Turning to Meme, “Are you alright?”

Juli nodded to Fuego before running off, neither confirming nor denying if she would stop calling him "Mr. Nevermere" Meme was already settling herself down onto  a nearby rock to perch and gather her things up. For the most part, she looked all right, though she was checking in on the odds and ends in her pouch.

Fuego nervously fidgets wanting to tell Meme everything. That in-spite of the amnesia he has felt a deep connection to her.  He has thousands of things, feelings and questions running though his mind.

He closed his eyes for a second to focus, the last thing he wanted to do was cause her harm or stress. “I’m sorry, it’s just when we first meet, the day before the Ball, I couldn’t help but feel some kind of connection to you. Admittedly I thought it was a combination of our Dragonborn Heritage and shared sorrow of loss.” He got a slightly sorrowful look on his face.

Her eyes turned up to him. "Oh, forgive me, dear, I thought you were talking to the little one!" she said said, her eyes casually turning to watch as Juli went off in another direction. There was a bittersweet smile on her face as she watched the girl set about another task in the camp. "Well," she said, her gaze coming back to him. "In all due fairness, I had just compared you to my late husband, so my forward familiarity with you probably didn't help." She said it with laughter in her tone, a woman who knew how to not take herself too seriously.  When she saw the sorrow in his eyes, though, she matched it with her own, leaning forward for a bit more support on her staff, though she was sitting. "Thought, yes... There is a shared trauma among us, isn't there... not an unusual phenomenon in this world, as I have learned... Some of us carry a different kind of burden..."

Fuego knelt down still trying to work out what to say, how to say what he needed to tell her. “I should start over. I only remember about the last three years. I was on another plane before that. I don’t know the particular reasons as to why I was there or how long I was there. One day in the endless sea of days without warning I had somehow found myself in a summoning circle in front of a Wizard.” Fuego let a small smile cross his face. “His name was, is, Donald Herbert he was looking to summon a demon to study the infernal plane, and somehow got me instead. I helped him in an apprentice role and he helped me adjust to being free from where I had been trapped.”

“Over our time together he did all he could to help me. Ultimately I set out to find out who I was.” He continued on briefly describing the events leading up to their fateful meeting, and those afterwards, save for where they had found themselves, after all they did agree to keep that secret. “Since our paths crossed I have been starting to remember things, much to the chagrin of my patron.”

Meme took everything in, letting him talk about his past. "Was it bad for you? In that other plane? Someone summoning a demon meant he might have been summoning a denizen of the realm, and the spell clearly thought that the definition suited you." She settled her face in thought for a moment as he continued. "Have the uncovered memories done anything to help comfort you? Answer your questions at all?"

“I was tortured and stripped of every aspect of me. It was a hell that I never want to experience again.” He tilted his head slightly at her mention of the summoning spell. “I use to think it was some kind of accident or maybe some higher power steeping in to free me.”

As she asked if the memories helped him he reached out and gently took Meme’s hand, without even realizing he did it as if muscle memory had taken over. “In my mind, the memories, I found myself in a sanctuary that felt like home.” Tears started to flow as he remembered the feeling of the stone, the warmth of their love, the sound of her melody. He sang a few notes of the melody she had sung to their child. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home to you.”

Even before his confession, her hand was upon his shoulder as the emotions showed clearly on his face. She left him talk, let him cry, let him express what he needed to express, with a calm, understanding face, and kind hands. The realization, the truth, spread over her face like the dawning sun, her eyes transfixed on him as he sang the song that she had once sung to their heart-child. Her mouth had opened to say something, a small sound of confusion escaping her, until he finally spoke. Another sound, this one of some indescribable emotion, before she breathed out, almost frightened of what the answer might be. "...Barrin?"

“Yes my beloved!” He said as he wrapped his arms around her holding her in a firm and loving embrace. He hadn’t realized how starved he was of their love till they where embraced.

### **Ruin**

Here the chronicle ends.

The party entered Ruinglast and went to free Juli’s village. Bryn stayed behind, and as she spent hours in reflections she found that while her cleric’s powers had been taken from her, there was still magic. She was something else entirely.

Bryn rejoined the party the next day as they followed Thea and The Traveler into certain borders of the Feywild, where he asked them to deal with a blight witch.

Unused to her new powers, Bryn landed a mighty blow against the witch but failed to kill her. As the immediate object of her wrath, Bryn was feeble-minded and the party either could not fix or or, in the case of Kam, chose not to save her.

Returning to Ruinglast after defeating the witch, Thea tucked Bryn into bed and promised that one day things would be better. During the night, however, Bryn was brutally murdered. Throughout the rest of the campaign, it came to light that Kam had murdered Bryn for the purpose of attempting to turn Rylan to evil ends - a plan which did not succeed.

Some time after the events of the campaign, Bryn was returned to life and narrated a book for Thea, who by then had killed Oghma and replaced him as the god of Bards, Knowledge, and Stories.

However, Bryn’s last actions helped free a certain Harengon named Garrett . . .

## The Last Will and Testament of Brynwick Nibnibbler

Written on the first day of the reign of Lord Ripjaw, Sea Lord of the Seelie Court of Coral, while aboard the ship Djinn’s Wish

The Last Will and Testament of Brynwick Nibnibbler, gnome cleric of Oghma, deputy of Little Grove, lady of Mezzoberrazean, formerly called the Voice of Oghma, and member of the adventurers known in Hilan as the Third Family

Recent events compel me to alter any previous document.

Things are terribly, terribly wrong. The mark on my hand has periodically throbbed and burned during my prayers, lately to the point it cannot be ignored. Oghma has seemed distant. And now, nothing.  My arm does not ache or stir or wake, but Oghma does not answer, either. There is no voice or wash of wisdom. My powers are still there, but Oghma’s voice is not. There is silence.

Since the events in Spriggan, which resulted in Jii’s death, I have feared what I might become. Now, even uncertainty is uncertain. I have come to the conclusion that my death is likely to be sudden or violent, and probably both.

Therefore, I set this document as my last will and testament so that the members of Third Family might know my wishes and desires.

First, let it be known to all members of the party and any legal authority that I bear no ill will or grievance against the party, even if my death should come at their own hand or by their own actions. I have considered this a possibility since Spriggan.

Second, let it be known to all members of the party and any legal authority that I do not wish to be burned. I know that circumstances may dictate differently, but I would prefer to rest in a forest with my calligrapher’s tools and blank parchment. I leave it to the party to determine the manner of my dress – again, as circumstances allow. I am not averse to burial at sea, but my heart lies with the forest.

Third, let it be known to all members of the party and any legal authority that the division of my belongings shall be as follows:

A. The document around which this testament is wrapped shall pass into the possession Thea Chandler. She may do with it as they see fit; Rylan will be able to decipher it.

B. Any personal belongings and possessions not specifically listed here are to be divided out among the party according to the needs and desires of the party, while any money or coinage is to go into the common purse.

Fourth, let it be known to all members of the party and any legal authority that I leave to certain members of the party the following of my own free will:

A. Rylan Lovelock has been our reluctant leader, holding us together even as he himself felt incomplete. I leave to him my sovereign glue, trusting he will find a use for it.

Addendum, Autumnal Equinox - Sadly, this bequest cannot be fulfilled, the sovereign glue being necessary to access the plane of knowledge.

B. Hetzel Sophson has lost so much, yet she continues to give so much of herself to others, and in so doing she is the richest person I have ever met. I leave to her any land and titles it is in my power to bequeath, knowing she will use them to expand her – our – family.

Addendum, Autumnal Equinox - Hetzel has left our party, for what reason I do not know, nor do I know when I might expect her return. Not knowing her fate or standing, I hereby retract my earlier statement, and direct my lands, titles, &etc be given to Jinx, the Kenku owner of the Drowned Beagle in Dewport and perhaps by now resident in Morad. She may accept or reject, keep or sell, and do as she will with any such things as she has a legal right to do so.

Finally, know that I have loved each one of you and that I count it a privilege to have traveled by your side. I simply ask that when you remember me, you remember all those we have lost as well: Adrain Oakengrove, Joshua Overhill, Raffin Whane, Jii, and Tearsson.

(signed)

Bryn