Adventure Log VI.I
THE DEAD WARRENS
Part I
In the shadowed alleys of Korvosa, whispers spread like tendrils of smoke, weaving tales of a clandestine group known as the Church of Asmodeus. Cloaked in mystery, they lurked in the peripheries, their presence both ominous and alluring.
Driven by devotion to their enigmatic deity, the followers of Asmodeus preached a doctrine that veered sharply from the conventional. They spoke of power drawn from the very essence of life itself, the crimson elixir that coursed through mortal veins—blood.
With fervent zeal, they encouraged the populace to embrace a ritual of sacrifice, pledging vials of their own lifeblood to the altar of Asmodeus. In exchange, they promised unfathomable boons and forbidden knowledge, whispered secrets that danced on the edge of sanity.
To some, the allure of the Church was irresistible, drawn by the promise of power beyond mortal comprehension. Yet, others recoiled in horror at the thought of such sacrilege, fearing the darkness that lurked beneath the surface of their seductive teachings.
It was the 22nd of Pharast, Moon Day, and as dawn crept over the ancient rooftops of Korvosa, the sleepy town stirred from its slumber beneath a blanket of frost. Wisps of mist twirled lazily through the cobbled streets, clinging to the air like ethereal tendrils. The first light of morning painted the sky in hues of soft pink and golden amber, casting long shadows that stretched across the quiet thoroughfares.
The chill of the night lingered in the air, a tangible reminder of winter's grasp upon the land. Each breath hung in the frigid atmosphere, crystalline puffs dissipating into the dawn. Frost adorned the eaves of taverns and shops, glimmering like diamonds in the early light, while icicles clung precariously to the edges of ancient stone facades.
Despite the biting cold, life slowly began to rouse within the town's walls. Shopkeepers threw open their shutters, their breath forming clouds in the frosty air as they prepared for the day ahead. Footsteps echoed against the cobblestones as early risers ventured out into the crisp morning, their cloaks pulled tight around them in a futile attempt to ward off the chill.
Inside the Cracked Weasel, Trevor sat hunched over a simple wooden table, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the meagre meal before him. The room was filled with the aroma of ale, smoke and sweat, a testament to the rugged existence that defined his life. With calloused hands, he lifted a crude wooden spoon and stirred the contents of his bowl—a thick, gruel-like mixture that steamed gently in the cool air.
The breakfast of choice for this half-orc was a hearty concoction born of necessity. In his bowl, chunks of tough meat floated amidst a sea of murky broth. Fibrous roots and vegetables added texture to the otherwise bland mixture. As he brought the spoon to his lips, Trevor grimaced slightly at the taste—a rough blend of flavours that spoke of survival rather than pleasure. Yet, he ate with a quiet determination. With each spoonful, he felt the warmth spread through his body, invigorating him for whatever trials may come today.
Taylan, the young half elven sorcerer, entered the Inn and made his way over to Trevor and sat down at the table. Pleasantries were made and then Taylan leaned forward eagerly, his eyes alight with excitement as he looked at Trevor’s food. It was clear the young man was hungry. Trevor just looked at him, his muscular frame a stark contrast to Taylan's slender form and so feeling sorry for the lad, Trevor went off to make him some gruel.
When he returned, Taylan tucked into the food like a wild-eyed dog slathering at the mouth. He wolfed the food down within seconds and then wiped his greasy hands on what appeared to be new fancy garments. Albeit it was clear, that although they were new, Taylan had clearly been sleeping in them.
Taylan, ever the chatterbox, then regaled Trevor with animated tales of his recent exploits, his words flowing like a rushing river. With each gesture and flourish, he painted a vivid picture of how he and Calli had stolen an item, but it used to belong to Master Roshi, so they were only stealing it back for him- so that made it ok. Trevor, was both concerned, confused, and alarmed at all of this and so said nothing.
"What about you, Trevor?" Taylan asked, his voice softened with genuine interest. "What have you been up to lately? Any thrilling battles or daring escapades?"
Trevor's response was characteristically brief, his words measured and deliberate. "Just the usual," he grunted, his gaze flickering briefly towards the shadows. "Just keeping the peace at the Cracked Weasel. Nothing worth mentioning."
Despite Taylan's attempts to draw him out, Trevor remained steadfast in his silence, his thoughts known only to him.
It was at that time that Bryon and Little Focker walked into the inn as well. The little drake was eager to eat a pickled rat and picked one up from one of the jars on the other side of the bar. Byron, sensing Trevor’s discomfort (after all the Half-Orc didn’t own the Inn), gave him some coins to pay for Little Focker’s food, which was much appreciated.
As Byron handed over the coins, Trevor's ears pricked up as the distant howl of a beast reached them, a chilling echo that only the two large men could hear, disturbing them with vivid memories of his and Byron’s recent encounter with a Hound of Tindaloss.
Once again, the door to the Inn and opened and this time Calli entered. With a sway to her step that matched the gentle rhythm of a summer breeze, the young half-elven woman entered the inn, her arms laden with a basket brimming with freshly baked pastries. Her long, vibrant pink locks cascaded down her back in a riot of curls, framing a smile that seemed to light up the room. The ample curves of her figure accentuated by the soft fabric of her vibrant garb, she moved with an effortless grace that drew the eye of everyone there.
The aroma of warm, buttery pastries filled the air, mingling with the hint of cinnamon that lingered on the breeze. Each pastry was a work of art, golden brown and glistening with a sugary glaze, their sweet fragrance tantalizing the senses and stirring the appetite of all who beheld them.
With a playful grin, she set the basket down on the table, the pastries arranged in a mouth-watering display that beckoned to be sampled.
"Good morning, everyone," she greeted cheerfully, her voice as sweet as the pastries she carried. "I thought I'd bring a little treat for everyone today. Freshly baked, just this morning."
Trevor's brow furrowed slightly as he surveyed the tempting array of pastries before him, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hooded gaze. With a sigh, he shook his head, his voice gruff as he spoke.
"Eee by gum, I'm sorry, lass," he replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "But no outside food is allowed to be brought onto the premises during working hours. It's against the inn's policy."
The young woman's smile faltered slightly, disappointment flickering in her eyes before she nodded in understanding. With a resigned sigh, she gathered up her basket of pastries, her disappointment tempered by the warmth of Trevor's gaze.
"Of course, Trevor," she said softly, her voice tinged with disappointment. "I understand. I just thought it would be nice”.
“It was” Trevor replied, ‘But the rules are the rules!”
"Now hold on there, Trevor," Byron interjected, his voice booming with enthusiasm. "Technically, it's not officially working hours yet, is it? So, no rules have been broken here!"
Trevor's expression softened as he considered Byron's logic, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment's contemplation, he nodded in reluctant agreement.
"I suppose you have a point there, Byron," Trevor conceded, his voice gruff but good-natured. "Alright then, let's indulge a bit before the rush begins."
With that, the tension dissipated, replaced by an air of camaraderie and anticipation. Calli’s smile brightened as she eagerly joined the group around the table, passing out the pastries with generous hands.
Looking around the room she hesitated and asked, "Has Gale been, yet?" Byron, Taylan and Trevor shook their heads and replied not yet, and Calli was unable to hide her disappointment. Trevor then pointedly asked, "Isn't he yours? What, trouble in paradise?" Taylan immediately jumped in, "Did you fire him?" to which Calli snaped back, "NO. Just needed a bit of space. I don't like people lying to me. It's fine. Everything's fine."
Needing to change the conversation Calli used her magic to clean off Taylan, and then passed him a folded piece of parchment out of the basket, who read out loud that Adam had made some progress into the mysteries of his amulet. The runes were old elvish, and bore the phrase, "BLOOD OF WHITE WYRM WILL OPEN." Taylan ominously blurted out that at some point they would have to kill a White Dragon, which stupefied Trevor and sent a chill down his considerable spine. Calli said it might just mean Taylan's own blood may be the key to opening something. Byron warned him to be careful what he bled on.
As they tucked into the delicious treats before them, conversation began again in earnest with what they’d been up to lately. Byron hinted that he and Calli had to ‘dispose’ of someone recently who was a threat. Someone who was linked to the thugs that had attacked them on the streets in Old Korvosa a while back, but no specific details were laid out. This unlikely ‘fighting duo’ spent more time complimenting each other on their respective skills at avoiding having to fight than the fight itself.
But when Calli asked Trevor what he’d been up to, once again he replied “Just the usual. Keeping the peace at the Cracked Weasel. Nothing worth mentioning"
Calli, not buying it for one second, then asked if he’d seen Nightingale recently. Trevor replied he hadn’t, but no-one believed him. Calli decided to press this matter further and asked Trevor if that was the case, why had he and Nightingale had recently acquired a sleeping draft from Madame Devlin’s house. Trevor, caught off guard and shocked that she knew this, spluttered that sometimes he needed it to deal with ‘unruly customers.’ Of course it was another lie. The thought of Trevor drugging a patron was absurd, but it was clear to Calli and the others that Trevor wasn’t going to tell her or anyone else what he and Nightingale had been up to recently. Instead, she just expressed her disappointment that he wasn’t being truthful with her.
Once the pastries were cleared, Byron set the bag he'd been carrying on the table, and Calli handed out the party's gains from their black-market run. They all admired Byron's new breastplate, adorned with burnished flowers. Trevor was delighted at his new amulet, and Taylan couldn't hide his excitement at having his very own ring. Calli showed him that she'd gotten one to match, lamenting only that she'd had to stop wearing one of her decorative pieces to make room for it. She then handed him a wand that would help restore their health when needed, again explaining she had a match, and passed out potions to the brawlers that would do the same for them if they needed it in the heat of the moment. After handing out most the other items they'd gathered, there were still some potions left in the bag for Gale, and Calli again looked to the door expectantly. She'd then turned back to Trevor to begin questioning again what he knew about where her errant bodyguard might be.
Luckily for Trevor, three weary Korvosan guards trudged into the Cracked Weasel at that exact moment, their armour clinking softly with each step. Their faces bore the weariness of a night spent patrolling the city's labyrinthine alleys and bustling streets.
Spotting Trevor, Byron, Calli, and Taylan seated at a nearby table, the guards approached with a sense of purpose, their expressions a mixture of gratitude and respect. With a nod of acknowledgment, one of the guards addressed the group.
"We've come to offer our thanks," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "Thanks to your efforts in capturing the King's murderer, the streets of Korvosa feel a lot calmer and safer now. We appreciate everything you've done for our city."
The party nodded in acknowledgement, whilst exchanging a knowing glance with each other that they didn’t believe the young girl they’d arrested had actually murdered the King. Before any of them could respond though, Sirius Blackfire, the jovial innkeeper, appeared with a warm smile, his hands laden with steaming plates of food and frothy tankards of ale.
"On the house, lads and lasses," Sirius declared cheerfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "For your bravery and service to our fair city."
With a grateful nod, the guards accepted Sirius’ generous offer, their appetites stirred by the tantalizing aroma of hearty fare. As they began to tuck into their meals, the guards' expressions grew serious once more, a sense of urgency replacing their earlier gratitude.
"Before we forget," one of the guards interjected, his tone solemn. "Field Marshal Cressida Kroft is looking for you. Seems she has a job for you lot."
Byron's brow furrowed in curiosity as he listened intently, his companions echoing his interest. The guard continued, his voice grave as he relayed the details of the task ahead.
"A young Shoanti lad was killed in the riots," he explained, his gaze meeting theirs with a sense of gravity. "And the Shoanti Ambassador, Thousand Bones, is visiting for the next few days to deal with the sad business. Field Marshal Kroft wants to do something to ease the tensions between our peoples.”
Calli knew of the reputation of the man called Thousand Bones. He was a Shaman of the Shoanti Skoan-Quah tribe. He’d spent many years living in Korvosa and made many long, arduous talks in search for peace between his people and the Korvosan people (their traditional enemies) hoping that somehow peace could be secured.
The guards didn’t know any more than that and so with a shared glance of determination, Trevor, Byron, Calli and Taylan, all nodded in agreement and then got up from the table and made their way towards the citadel. Calli looked back more than once, hoping to see Nightingale coming up to join them, but he never appeared.
As the party crossed the river from Old Korvosa into North Point, the stark contrast between the two districts was immediately apparent. In Old Korvosa, poverty clung to every crumbling brick and dilapidated structure. The bridges spanning the river groaned under the weight of neglect, their once-sturdy frames now sagging and worn. Buildings leaned precariously against one another, their walls patched with makeshift repairs and their roofs sagging under the weight of neglect.
In stark contrast, North Point stood as a beacon of prosperity and order in the heart of Korvosa. The district bustled with activity, its streets clean and well-maintained, lined with buildings of sturdy construction and elegant design. At the heart of North Point rose the imposing edifices of the Bank of Abadar, the new City Hall, and the Longacre building—a testament to the district's status as the centre of trade and law in Korvosa.
The air was alive with the sound of commerce, the vibrant hum of market stalls and the cheerful chatter of merchants hawking their wares. High-quality goods adorned the shelves of the numerous markets that dotted the district, their displays a stark contrast to the meagre offerings of Old Korvosa.
As they walked, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestone streets, Byron's loyal companion, Little Focker, flitted alongside them, his iridescent scales shimmering in the sunlight. The young Drakes keen eyes scanned the surroundings with a watchful gaze, ever vigilant for signs of danger.
Suddenly, a low growl rumbled from Little Focker's throat, his wings beating with agitation as he fixed his gaze on a nearby building. His sharp senses had detected something amiss—Imps lurking in the shadows, unseen but not unnoticed.
Byron, Taylan, and Trevor followed Little Focker's gaze, their expressions tense with anticipation as they prepared for whatever threat lay ahead. Despite their inability to see the invisible imps that Little Focker had seen, they stood tall and resolute, their determination unwavering.
With a commanding voice, Trevor addressed the unseen assailants, his tone carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument. "Fuck off!" he declared, his voice echoing through the empty street. "Don’t even think about it!" Byron, and even Taylan, managed to match his fierce words with scowls of equal intensity in the direction of the threat.
As if in response to Trevor's words, the air shimmered with a faint ripple, and the sound of tiny claws skittering against stone filled the air. With a collective hiss of fear, the invisible imps retreated, their malicious intent thwarted by the unwavering resolve of the males in the party. Calli was just glad to escape a fray so early in the day.
With the immediate threat dispelled, the group continued on their journey to the Citadel, their steps quickening with a renewed sense of purpose. Little Focker flew ahead, his wings beating with a newfound energy as he led the way, a silent guardian watching over his companions as they ventured forth deeper into the city.
The party arrived at Citadel Volshyenek and were escorted to meet Cressida Kroft. They could see she wasn’t alone. Standing next to her, they beheld a towering figure, a lean and weathered Shoanti elder, bearing the weight of at least sixty harsh winters. He leaned upon a formidable walking stick; its polished femur crowned by the fearsome skull of a fearsome feline animal. His shirt was adorned with an array of rattling animal bones, each etched with intricate symbols, and he emanated an aura of ancestral wisdom.
Wrapped around his narrow shoulders was a cloak fashioned from the fur of a bear, while warpaint resembling a skull marked his weathered face. Despite the milky pallor of his eyes, there was a keenness in his gaze that spoke of insight beyond mere sight. Beside him perched a majestic razor crow, its crimson feathers a striking contrast against the elder's solemn demeanour.
As they stood before him, Trevor and his friends felt a sense of reverence wash over them, acknowledging the presence of a man deeply connected to the spiritual heritage of his people. With Field Marshal Cressida's introduction, they learned his name: Thousand Bones, Way-Keeper of the Skoan-Quah, the revered Clan of the Skull. Calli made a gesture and gave a few words of greeting in what must have been the Shoanti language, showing respect.
The man looked upon them and spoke, "My people have endeavored to comprehend yours, yet each passing day unveils fresh evidence of your society's persistent cultivation of age-old animosities. My grandson, Gaekhen, lies dead, felled by the hands of cowards upon your city streets. I do not hold you accountable, but Gaekhen's demise stands as a grievous testament to the rifts that persist between our people. My son and his brethren, however, do not share my forgiveness. They yearn to return to march forth in war against Korvosa. Such a path would prove catastrophic for both our peoples. Reconciliation is imperative.
Our customs diverge from yours. Should a warrior's body fail to return whole to the sacred pyres, the spirit's ascent to the Great Sky is impeded. Were I able to bestow upon Gaekhen a journey of honour and dignity to the Great Sky, his father and brothers would heed my counsel and withhold their fury—thus, the prospects of peace between our peoples could persist. However, Gaekhen's fate transcends mere murder. His remains were snatched from the site of his demise, peddled by a seller of flesh to a necromancer known as Rolth—a figure deemed criminal by both our societies. Through communion with the spirits, I have learned that Gaekhen's body languishes in a place beneath your charnel house, a realm dubbed the Dead Warrens.
With this revelation, I could lead a cadre of my most skilled warriors into your boneyard to reclaim Gaekhen's form, yet such an endeavor would be perceived as an act of aggression by your people. Thus, the onus falls upon you to rectify the transgression. You must deliver Gaekhen's remains unto me, lest we be compelled to embark upon our own reclamation. And though the task weighs heavily upon my heart, it is a necessary pursuit for the sake of justice and peace."
As Thousand Bones spoke, the weight of his words settled upon the characters like a heavy shroud, enveloping them in a sombre atmosphere thick with gravity and import. Trevor, Byron, Calli, and Taylan exchanged glances, their expressions reflecting a mix of concern, empathy, and determination.
Thousand Bones looked slowly at Cressida and then the rest of the party and then without a word he left the room.
In the silence that followed, the characters stood united in their shared understanding of the gravity of the situation, Find and return his sons body and all would be well. Fail and war could descend upon Korvosa.
Trevor's jaw tightened with resolve, his eyes reflecting a steely determination to see justice served and prevent further bloodshed between their peoples. Taylan's usually jovial demeanour was replaced by a grim solemnity as he contemplated the implications of the Shoanti elder's words. Cali’s compassionate heart ached with empathy for Thousand Bones' loss and Byron's mind buzzed with the weight of the situation, his thoughts darting between the complexities of diplomacy and the urgency of action.
Kroft explained she needed their help. When pressed why other members of her guard couldn’t handle this task, she replied because she knew the party to be more than capable. They had proved themselves to her over and over again. If they would assist, she would reward them with a 1000gp.
The party agreed, not because of the money but due to the dire situation. However more information was needed to understand who this Rolth was, where The Dead Warrens could be located, and what did Gaekhen look like.
Cressida explained that Rolth was student who was expelled from the Acadamae. Apparently, he’d conducted all sorts of terrible and wicked experiments attempting to build some sort of Golem. He’d killed animals, beggars, and anything he could get his hands on to try and create this monster. Cressida also believed he’d been responsible for the death and mutilations of many more bodies since his expulsion.
When asked if she wanted him arrested, Kroft simply shrugged and replied that was preferable, but if the situation warranted otherwise, that would be fine. He’d been a thorn in her side for long enough.
At that moment, Kroft delivered a shocking revelation: Rolth was the son of Gaedram Lamm. The party was left speechless by this unexpected bombshell. Instantly, Calli recalled a dagger they had taken from Lamm's lifeless form. Upon closer inspection, they had discovered an inscription on the blade, "For an inspiration of a father." A poignant testament of a son's love for his father. This discovery meant that if they were to confront Rolth, the necromancer, he would have even greater motivation to retaliate—to seek vengeance for his slain father.
Kroft believed that The Dead Warrens were located somewhere in The Grey District in Southern Korvosa. The Dead Warrens allegedly harboured deep and forbidding chambers, some fashioned by ghouls or other monstrous entities, while others remained as remnants of ancient Shoanti burial sites. Priests of Pharasma endeavoured to patrol and clear the warrens of such terrors, but the vast labyrinthine tunnels beneath the district presented an ongoing challenge. Their progress seemed to be incessantly thwarted as new threats emerged in place of those vanquished.
This still didn’t give the exact location of the entrance to the Dead Warrens though. Kroft then told them that in her custody was the individual who facilitated the sale of Gaekhen's body to Rolth: a man by the name of Elkaris. Upon realizing the gravity of his situation, Elkaris divulged all relevant information. According to him, the body was transported via wheelbarrow to a partially collapsed mausoleum nestled deep within Potter's Ward, close to its southern border. Adjacent to the mausoleum's entrance lay a fallen statue of a gargoyle, sword aloft but bereft of its head—a poignant marker indicating the designated drop-off point for the body. Kroft suggested that was the best place for them to start looking.
Last but not least, Kroft told them how to recognise Gaekhens body. According to her, Gaekhen was approximately 18 years old, sporting short brown hair, and bearing a distinctive scar on his left cheek. Additionally, Gaekhen's arms and torso boasted several large and unique Shoanti tribal tattoos.
As the party prepared to depart, Calli couldn't resist inquiring about Trinia Sabor's well-being. With some reluctance, Kroft assured her that Sabor remained unharmed and securely detained. Emboldened by a sudden idea, Calli proposed a daring plan to Kroft: she felt like she may have developed a way to harmlessly probe the girl's memories with magic. If it worked, she could determine whether Sabor was truly responsible for the King's murder. Intrigued by the prospect, Kroft found herself drawn to the idea. After a moment's consideration, she agreed to Calli's proposition, promising to explore this avenue once their current mission was complete.
Before the group set out, they discussed what they all knew about the various fiends that may be waiting for them. In this it seemed both Byron and Calli were studied, but Byron was the lead. When complimented on his expertise he gave a rakish grin and proclaimed, "Good at numbers and at the undead!" Calli knew this was a reference to his skill at the black market the day before and returned his smile.
Taylan piped up in encouragement, "That's my dad!" Byron looked at him in exasperation and Trevor carefully explained, "Now, you know that's just a ruse, right?" Taylan's smile became a bit wistful as he explained, "I do know that. But you all are like my family now. My Korvosan family. I've got a Korvosan dad, and a sister, and you can be Uncle Trevor!" No one knew exactly what to say after this unexpectedly sweet statement, so their attention turned back to the matter at hand.
Thinking of the dangers that may lay ahead, they asked Kroft if she had any alchemists fire or holy water? Byron asked for a big wooden stake. Kroft was able to supply a bit of each and wished them luck.
With a collective nod of agreement, Byron, Trevor, Calli and Taylan made their way out of the Citadel silently pledging to honour the Shoanti elder's request to retrieve Gaekhen's body and determined to forge a path toward justice and peace in the face of adversity.
PART II
As the party ventured beyond the towering walls of their city for the first time as a group, into The Grey District to the south, they entered a realm of unfamiliar stillness. Accustomed to the lively clamour of urban life, the profound silence that enveloped them upon stepping into the Grey District graveyard struck them as eerie and unsettling. Here, within this vast expanse, silence reigned supreme, a stark departure from the hustle and bustle they were accustomed to.
Their senses were overwhelmed by the oppressive atmosphere, where the only sounds were the whispers of the wind and the distant creaking of crumbling mausoleums. Hundreds of unmarked mounds dotted the landscape, each one representing a life now lost and forgotten. Broken and dilapidated mausoleums stood as silent sentinels, their decay mirroring the passage of time within the graveyard's final embrace. As the adventurers took in the desolate scene before them, they couldn't shake the feeling that they had stepped into a realm where the boundary between the living and the dead blurred, leaving them with an unsettling sense of unease and thinking of their own mortality.
As they looked around, they saw an imposing structure. A Grand Cathedral surrounded by a small, fenced-in plot of ground. It had black marble walls and few windows, especially on the first floor, and even the windows on the upper floors were largely arrow slits. This was The Grand Cathedral of Pharasma, a defensive construction to fight risen corpses from breaking out of the cemetery and attacking the living.
As Byron gazed upon this ominous building, he suggested it would prudent if they try and talk to anyone there and ask for advice. After all, if anyone would know where the Dead Warrens was located, it would be them.
As they walked over, they could see two imposing figures, clad in gleaming armour, were standing guard outside the Cathedral’s doors. Their presence commanded respect and awe. These were clerics and they each bore a heavy mace in their hands, the weight of their weapons matched only by the solemnity etched upon their faces. Their armour, polished to a brilliant sheen, caught the light of the sun and reflected it in dazzling flashes, lending an aura of divine radiance to their formidable forms. Embossed with intricate patterns and symbols of their faith, their attire spoke of devotion and unwavering dedication to their cause.
As Trevor initiated conversation, an eerie tension hung thick in the air, a palpable sense of foreboding seeping into the atmosphere. With measured words, he revealed their presence for official business, seeking counsel from the clerics. Their gaze, filled with a haunting soberness, met his, betraying a knowing apprehension of the peril that awaited. Trevor's inquiry delved into the heart of darkness, seeking knowledge of the Dead Warrens and the horrors that lurked within. The clerics' response was delivered with a grave intonation, their voices laced with the weight of dire warnings. Skeletons would likely haunt the depths, their bony forms requiring the blunt force of weapons to vanquish. Yet, the spectre of zombies loomed larger still, their rotting flesh demanding the edge of slashing weapons for true efficacy. And amidst the shadows, ghouls skulked, their insidious presence a harbinger of transformation—a mere bite condemning one to join their ranks in undeath. They assured the party that should that happen, return to them and they'd help.
Calli, her voice trembling with concern, raised a troubling question: "Do you mean help as in cure, or help as in..." and here she ran a hand across her throat. The clerics' response was kind but firm, pledging their commitment to restoring those afflicted by foul curses. Yet, if hope dwindled and salvation proved elusive, they would perform the tragic duty of releasing the afflicted from their suffering, sparing them from a fate worse than death. With a small nod of understanding, Calli accepted their sombre decree, her gratitude tempered by the weight of the situation.
In a gesture of goodwill, the clerics presented Trevor with a mace, a tool crafted for the grim task that lay ahead. Though they requested its eventual return, their trust in Trevor's resolve was unmistakable. With heartfelt gratitude, Trevor accepted the mace, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into its surface. He pledged to wield it with honour and return it upon the mission's completion.
Moved by their generosity, Trevor extended an offer of reciprocity, promising the clerics respite and refreshment at the Cracked Weasel. Their eyes twinkled with gratitude as they accepted his offer, their spirits buoyed by the camaraderie forged in the face of impending peril.
It was at this moment that Taylan asked a surprising question: did taxpayers pay for the Cathedral? It was such a random and somewhat rude question, that no-one knew what to say. Byron stepped in to diffuse the situation and told Taylan to be quiet and he immediately apologised to his ‘dad’. This peaked the clerics interest and asked if it was true, that this ‘ron's tail’ was indeed the son of ‘The Korvosan Bear’. Taylan responded by acknowledging he was indeed his father but not biologically. Furthermore, Trevor was his ‘uncle’! Byron, exasperated by it all, asked the clerics if they’d consider taking ‘children’ in!
The party quickly left the clerics and headed towards the remnants of an old mausoleum towards the south end of Potter's Ward which they had advised them to search. As Trevor, Calli, Byron, and Taylan approached it, a sense of trepidation hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musty scent of decay that permeated the surroundings. The ancient stone structure loomed before them, its once-imposing facade now weathered and worn by the passage of time.
As they drew nearer, their eyes fell upon a trail of tracks leading towards the mausoleum's entrance—they belonged to a solitary figure, who had clearly been pushing a wheelbarrow. This must be the place where The Dead Warrens was located. But what caught their attention the most were the smaller, more ominous tracks scattered amidst the larger prints. Each imprint bore the unmistakable mark of a humanoid foot, yet the unsettling absence of a fifth toe sent a shiver down their spines.
With a collective sense of apprehension, they followed the trail of tracks into the mausoleum, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor. The party decided to spread out. Taylan would take the West side, Trevor the East, whilst Byron would enter from the front followed by Calli.
Trevor was the first to enter the mausoleums grounds. He moved methodically his senses heightened, attuned to the slightest hint of danger. Suddenly, his foot grazed against a slightly raised portion of the ground, hidden beneath a thin layer of dirt and debris. With a sharp intake of breath, he knelt down and brushed away the detritus, revealing the tell-tale outline of a trap door.
As soon as he touched the door, the faint sound of rustling echoed through the chamber, sending a chill down this spine.
As Trevor's hand grasped the handle of the trap door, three ghouls emerged from the shadows, their twisted forms materializing with eerie swiftness. With ghastly snarls, they lunged forward, their rotting jaws agape, hungering for the taste of flesh.
Little Focker saw the oncoming danger and cried out a warning.
In the chaos of the moment, Trevor acted swiftly, hurling a tanglefoot bag at the nearest ghoul in an attempt to impede its advance. However, the sticky substance seemed to have no effect on the ghoul's relentless pursuit.
As Byron strode through the entrance of the mausoleum, a ghoul descended upon him with terrifying speed, sinking its decaying teeth into his flesh. The barbarian's muscles seized with paralysis, leaving him vulnerable to the ghoul's relentless assault.
Little Focker launched himself at the creature attacking his master, trying to find purchase for his claws in the rotten flesh.
Amidst the fray, Calli's voice rang out in an uplifting melody, her bardic magic inspiring her companions to fight with renewed vigour. With each note, their resolve strengthened, driving them to push back against the encroaching darkness. Seeing Byron unnaturally freeze in front of her, she grabbed hold of him and used her weight to drag him behind her, placing her body between the attacking ghoul and the suddenly vulnerable man.
Taylan, channelling the power of his sorcerous abilities, unleashed a torrent of searing flames upon one of the ghouls, its undead flesh smouldering and blackening under the intense heat until it finally collapsed in a heap.
But the battle was far from over. Another ghoul latched onto Calli, its fetid breath washing over her, but the Elven resilience coursing through her veins staved off the paralysis. With a swift counterattack, she plunged her rapier into the ghoul's decaying flesh, eliciting a pained hiss from the creature.
Meanwhile, Trevor, fuelled by righteous fury, swung his axe with primal strength, cleaving through one of the undead with brutal efficiency.
Not to be outdone, Little Focker, the small drake, unleashed his fury upon the ghoul that had paralysed Byron, wrapped his tail around its neck and wrenched its head from its body. As the ghoul lay vanquished at his feet, Little Focker let out a defiant cry "Don't fucking touch the boss!" his loyalty to his companion unwavering.
As the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, the party took stock of their surroundings. Byronfinally shook off the effects of paralysis, and exclaimed, "I got this!" before seeing it was all over. With a grunt of effort, he rose to his feet, his resolve unbroken despite the harrowing ordeal.
Yet, amidst the relief of victory, a sense of unease lingered in the air. The realization dawned upon them that the ghouls they had encountered were but a harbinger of the horrors lurking beneath the surface. With each passing moment, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon them, casting a shadow over their newfound triumph.
Grim silence settled over the group as they contemplated the path that lay ahead. The trap door yawning open before them beckoned to depths unknown, its darkness concealing untold dangers that awaited below. Fear gnawed at the edges of their resolve, threatening to erode the fragile calm that had settled over them in the aftermath of battle.
With a shared glance, they knew that their journey was far from over. Stealing themselves for the trials that lay ahead, they descended into the depths of the underground labyrinth, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. Ahead of them loomed the unknown, a realm fraught with peril and uncertainty, yet they pressed forward, bound by a shared determination to confront whatever horrors awaited them in the depths below.
Part III
As Calli conjured her magical lights, the flickering orbs cast their glow into the murky depths of the underground labyrinth, illuminating the stone corridor ahead. With each step, the party ventured deeper into the darkness, the cool, damp air enveloping them like a shroud.
As they reached the end of the corridor, their gaze fell upon a chamber bathed in an ethereal blue light. Four massive stone pillars rose from the floor, supporting a lofty dome above. The walls were lined with the grim remnants of countless skeletons, their bones caked in mud and arranged in macabre patterns. Human remains predominated, but scattered among them were smaller bones, perhaps belonging to halflings, or children, or both.
To the east and west, deep pits yawned open, filled with heaps and heaps of bones. A crude hole gouged into the southern wall beckoned them towards a hidden tunnel beyond.
Eerily glowing patches of mold clung to the chamber walls, casting strange shadows that danced across the cold stone floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of decay, the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh permeating every breath.
As they surveyed the grim scene before them, a sense of unease settled over the party. The Dead Warrens were a place of darkness and death, where the echoes of the past lingered like spectres in the shadows.
As Trevor stepped into the chamber, his senses on high alert, he was met with a sight that chilled him to the bone. From the depths of the eastern pit, four skeletal figures emerged, their hollow eye sockets fixed upon him with malevolent intent. Across the chamber, a monstrous undead skeletal owl bear rose from the opposite pit, its lumbering form casting a shadow over the room.
Surrounded by these distressing mockeries of life, something terrible within Trevor began to stir, but he managed to keep hold of himself.
Trevor hurled a vial of alchemist fire at the owl bear, the explosive concoction engulfing the creature in a fiery inferno. As flames licked at its undead form, the Owl Bear roared in agony, its monstrous silhouette wreathed in fire. Seeing the success, he follows up with an acid flask that continued to eat away at the monster's considerable bone mass and rotting flesh.
Seeing the success of the flames, Taylan with a burst of speed, dashed into the room, his hands wreathed in flames as he unleashed a torrent of fire upon the skeletal horde emerging from the pit. The intense heat consumed the skeletons in a blaze of incandescent light, reducing them to smouldering piles of bone in moments.
Meanwhile, Little Focker, the small drake, darted towards the Owl Bear. But his attacks proved ineffective against the creature's formidable defences. In a swift and brutal counterattack, the owl bear unleashed a barrage of blows upon the drake, each strike causing considerable damage.
Calli witnessing the small drake take the battering, pulled out her wand to cure him as soon as he could get within range of him.
Seeing his companion in peril, Byron rushed to Little Focker's aid, his clawed hands tearing into the owl bear's flesh with savage ferocity. The creature howled in pain as Byron's relentless assault inflicted grievous wounds upon its undead form.
As the battle reached its climax, Taylan unleashed a barrage of magic missiles from his eyes, the beams of light striking the owl bear with unerring accuracy. With a deafening roar, the creature exploded in a shower of bones, its remains scattered across the chamber floor.
With the threat vanquished, Calli hurried to Little Focker's side, her wand glowing with healing magic as she tended to the Drake's wounds. Little Focker thanked her, and she assured him that no thanks were needed as he was one of them. Little Focker preened at this and proclaimed "I'm a flower!"
As the last echoes of battle faded, the party took a moment to catch their breath, their hearts pounding with the adrenaline of combat. Yet, they knew that their journey through the Dead Warrens was far from over, and that even greater dangers lay ahead in the depths of the underworld.
Byron t impressed by the way Taylan took out four skeletons at once, suggested he'd have to introduce him to his tattoo artist. Taylan, excited by the barbarian’s praise, asked if he could have his own flower. Calli then began considering the pros and cons of receiving her own in. The image of her parents' faces should they discover she had a tattoo made it very tempting indeed.
The party decided to search the area. Primarily to try and discover if the remains of Gaekhan was discarded here, but to no avail. However, as they investigated, Calli, with her keen eye for detail, located a hidden entrance, revealing a narrow corridor beyond. With the discovery of the secret door, the party's curiosity piqued, and they wasted no time in investigating its depths.
However, it became very clear that the cramped confines of the passage posed a challenge for the two large barbarians, Trevor and Byron, who would struggle to navigate the tight space. Sensing their discomfort, Little Focker, ever resourceful, volunteered to act as a scout. Byron cautioned the drake to refrain from engaging with any potential threats, not even a mere rat.
With a nod of understanding, Little F soared down the corridor, his wings carrying him effortlessly through the cramped space. As he ventured further into the tunnel, he observed that it led south before branching off into three other passages, one of those leading into a much larger chamber with strange blue ghosts. Taking note of his surroundings, he returned to the party and relayed his findings.
Trevor and Taylan recognized the description of the "blue ghosts" and realized these must be the River Ghosts that people spoke of in Old Korvosa. Strange creatures that preyed on the poor and drunk (who had the misfortune of sleeping outside) who would mysteriously go missing never to be seen again. Taylan thought this was just an ‘old wives’ tale’ and proclaimed he would continue to sleep in alleys. He’d just use an extra layer or tarpaulin to protect him. This came as a great shock to Calli that he would continue to sleep rough despite the considerable danger.
After a brief discussion, the party decided against exploring the narrow tunnels and instead opted to proceed through the crude hole in the southern end of the chamber.
As the party ventured through the makeshift opening in the chamber wall, they found themselves walking down a corridor which then split west and east. They decided to go west which led to a cavern reeking of sweat and mud. Four filthy straw pallets littered the floor, surrounded by a low table adorned with dice and a miniature maze. At the table, two pale blue humanoids with bulging white eyes engaged in a cruel game of splat the rat, their wild hair and four-fingered hands clutching hooked clubs and crossbows. These were the River Ghosts of rumour, not ghosts at all, but strange little creatures called Derro’s glowing blue from the mold that grew here underground. Byron identified them immediately and whispered that they're utterly insane.
With a bold attempt to bluff their way past, Trevor entered the room, proclaiming that the Necromancer would be angry that they weren’t at their posts. But his words fell on deaf ears. The Derro’s responded by screaming and firing a hail of crossbow bolts, piercing Trevor's flesh and injecting poison into his veins, sapping his strength.
Undeterred, Taylan unleashed his magic missiles upon one of the Derro, but the creature only laughed maniacally in response, revelling in its own pain. Another bolt found its mark on Trevor, draining him of even more vitality. The other creature screams again, this time the sound reverberates around his head leaving him dazed. Once more something within Trevor begins to unfurl at the chaos, but he holds it in.
Seeing his friend in peril, Byron charged into the fray, his clawed hands tearing into one of the Derro with ferocious strength. Meanwhile, Calli hurled a Thunderstone into the midst of the creatures, hoping to deafen them with its explosion. However, the Derro’s merely mocked her efforts, blowing raspberries in defiance. Little Focker, ever faithful to his master, leapt to Byron's side, joining the attack.
Fuelled by rage, Trevor seized a nearby table and brought it crashing down upon one of the Derro’s, crushing it beneath the weight of the splintered wood.
Suddenly the chamber was plunged into chaos as a darkness spell was cast by the remaining Derro that Bryon and Little Focker had been tearing into.
Taylan managed to navigate his way out of the darkness and as he entered the light so did the remaining Derro. Taylan quickly struck the creature once more with his magic missile, while Byron, guided by his supernatural ability to scent and Taylan's voice crying “he’s over here daddy!”, delivered a devastating blow to the creature's face.
Calli emerged from the darkness on the opposite side of the chamber, unable to assist in the chaos unfolding before her, so she blocked one of the exits in case the remaining creature tried to make a run for it. Meanwhile, Little Focker following the enemy’s scent, drove his spiked tail into the Derro's eye, ensuring the enemy's demise.
With the battle won, the party took a moment to catch their breath, their hearts pounding with adrenaline as they surveyed the aftermath of their victory. It had taken its toll as the poison inflicted upon Trevor had weakened him considerably. The party briefly talked about going back to the clerics of Pharasma to restore him, but Trevor declined the offer, suggesting they should press on. His strength may not be the same as before, but he was still strong. But the next time they encountered a Derro, they would have to be more decisive. None of them could afford to be hurt by these devilish creatures. Calli, ever the compassionate, walked over to Trevor and healed his wounds as best she could. At the same time, Little Focker and Byron could be heard praising each other for their prowess in battle.
As the party searched the chamber, their findings confirmed their suspicions. The Derros' crossbow bolts were indeed laced with poison, their armour adorned with menacing hooks, and their spiked clubs equipped with rope hooks meant to entangle their foes. It became apparent to both Trevor and Taylan that these creatures were likely responsible for the mysterious kidnappings and disappearances that had plagued Korvosa.
With a sinking feeling in their stomachs, the party realized the true extent of the Derro's depravity. These twisted creatures had been snatching unsuspecting victims from above, delivering them into the clutches of the necromancer for his vile experiments. The thought of innocent people falling prey to such horrors sent a shiver down their spines. Determined to put an end to the Derro's reign of terror, the party resolved to press on, their hearts heavy with the weight of their newfound knowledge.
The party left the chamber and walked back up the corridor this time taking the route east. They soon found themselves in another chamber, its atmosphere heavy with the scent of old bloodshed. Three wooden tables stood ominously in the centre of the room; their surfaces stained red with the remnants of past violence. To the east of the room loomed a hutch, its wicker doors revealing a straw-lined cage. The party also spied a lone Derro who toiled over the lifeless body of a vagrant.
Taylan attempted to sneak into the room unnoticed but was thwarted as he stubbed his toe and cried out in pain. The Derro, alerted to his presence, swiftly pulled open the hutch door, releasing two Stirges - insectoid creatures with bat wings, thin legs, and needle-sharp proboscises – two of them flew out of the hatch and immediately pounced upon the party.
Taking a cue from the earlier Derro's scream attack, Calli launched her own sound burst spell, managing to stun the Derro and one of the flying pests. However, one of the creatures managed to evade the sonic boom and attempted to strike Calli with its proboscis, but in its haste, it miscalculated and ended up injuring itself. Byron, rushing to Calli’s aid, stepped in and hastily put an end to the demented bug before it could try again but plunging his sharp and raked claws through the creature’s midsection.
Seeing his companions in danger, Taylan unleashed a powerful spell, his dragon scales glowing brightly as a torrent of snowballs erupted from his hands, injuring the Derro and obliterating the remaining dazed Stirgis, as well as 4 more of the flying creatures they hadn't seen yet hidden behind in the cage. Little Focker then rushed towards the Derro to continue the party’s attack.
Meanwhile, Trevor attempted to replicate his previous tactic of using a table as a weapon, but his attempt backfired as he became entangled in his own chainmail, forcing him to pause and free himself from the wooden grooves.
Undeterred by the chaos unfolding around her, Calli began to sing, her haunting melody inspiring her companions to gain an extra edge in their battles. She moved forward into the room to get a better vantage point between two offshoot tunnels ahead. This would enable her to see if any other creatures would be joining the battle. To her horror, down the end of the southwest tunnel, she could see an Otyugh, and cried out to warn her companions.
As darkness enveloped the chamber once more, cast by the Derro, Taylan unleashed another spell, striking the creature with unerring accuracy. Byron, tapping once more into his keen sense of smell, located the Derro and plunged his claws into the creature, bringing an end to the frantic battle. Thankfully, no-one had been hurt this time.
The party looked around the chamber and from the southwestern corridor Calli had warned them of, and they hear the blubbery voice of the aberration saying “Hmmm. Warm food!”.
As Calli cautiously approached the source of the unsettling sounds, she discovered a chamber concealed within the depths of the underground labyrinth. Most of the room was dominated by a noxious stretch of mud, the remnants of a partially collapsed sinkhole, nourished by rivulets of water trickling down from the damp walls.
Amidst the murky quagmire, a patch of solid ground formed an island, upon which lay a repulsive heap of body parts, emitting a sickening odour that permeated the air. To the north, a rickety wheelbarrow lay abandoned against the wall, its contents spilled haphazardly across the chamber floor.
At the centre of the grisly scene, an Otyugh lurked, its grotesque form resembling a nightmarish amalgamation of mouth and tentacles. Three limbs extended from its sides, two ending in menacing barbs while the third was adorned with a cluster of eyes, surveying its surroundings with unsettling intelligence. It was feasting on body parts.
Calli turned to the others and quickly let them know of her plan. Using the corpses of the Derro’s and Sturgis as trade, she'd try and buy them some time to make sure the dead Shoanti they were looking for was not in the pile of bodies being consumed. Byron objected, pointing out she hated his idea to use a body back at the warehouse. She countered that at that point they didn't HAVE any bodies so there was no need to create them, but in the absence of a subterranean butcher these bodies would have to do. Trevor broke up their bickering, and Byron gathered a couple of bodies to follow Calli in case it got ugly.
With a mixture of trepidation and determination, Calli stepped forward, her voice steady as she attempted to negotiate with the ravenous Otyugh. She informed the creature that someone had delivered a poisoned body, hoping to dissuade it from its gruesome feast, and that if it would let them look around unharmed, they could remove the danger and leave alternatives.
However, to her dismay, the Otyugh responded that it actually enjoyed poison, relishing the toxic concoctions with a disturbing enthusiasm. Undeterred, Calli pressed on, revealing that there were specific body parts intentionally designed to harm Otyughs.
Concerned for its well-being, the creature agreed to cease its consumption of the tainted flesh in exchange for fresh meat. Calli then pledged to provide it with a steady supply of fresh prey, to which the Otyugh eagerly acquiesced.
However, Calli hesitated, voicing her concerns about trusting the monstrous creature. In response, the Otyugh offered a rather unconventional assurance, promising with "crossed tentacles" that it would uphold its end of the bargain.
Reluctantly accepting the creature's word, the party began to bring in the bodies of the Derro and the Stirges they had recently vanquished. The Otyugh's eyes lit up with anticipation, declaring the snowballed offerings as "frozen treats" with evident delight.
As the party sifted through the remains near the Otyugh, they stumbled upon a grim discovery—broken legs and hips adorned with bold Shoanti tattoos. Realization dawned upon them that these were some of the remains of Gaekhen, the missing Shoanti they had been tasked to find.
Calli turned again to the looming danger and showed it the tattooed parts, asking if it had perhaps already consumed the rest. To their relief it had not.
With their grim task accomplished, the party prepared to depart the chamber. Before they could leave, however, the Otyugh made an unexpected request, asking if it could indulge in a nibble of Calli. Politely declining the offer, and she and the party swiftly exited the chamber, their minds reeling from the surreal encounter with the enigmatic creature below.
Once far enough from the foul devourer, Calli used her prestidigitation to clean them of the decay they'd been sifting through and took a moment to calm the storm in her stomach threatening to come up.
Part IV
As the party returned to the chamber where they had recently faced the Derro and the Stirges, the air crackled with anticipation. They awaited the drake's report from the Eastern narrow hallway ahead, each member on edge, their senses heightened for any sign of danger.
Little Focker, their trusty scout, ventured forth, his wings slicing through the stale air as he disappeared into the foreboding darkness of the corridor. Moments stretched into an agonizing eternity before the drake reappeared, his eyes wide with alarm, wings beating furiously as he relayed his findings.
He described a sinister corridor, lined with yawning skulls embedded in the walls and ceiling, their hollow sockets seeming to watch their every move. Acid spat from these grotesque decorations, sizzling as it splattered against the chamber floor, a foreboding warning of the perils that lay ahead.
To make matters worse, as he flew back, Little Focker spotted two long serpentine skeletons with humanoid skulls and snake-like jaws heading towards the party. Sensing danger, the party prepared to confront the new threat.
The two menacing figures emerged from the darkness—a pair of Necrophidii, their serpentine forms twisting and writhing as they slithered into view. The air grew thick with tension as the party readied themselves for battle, their adrenaline coursing through their veins as they prepared to confront the sinister adversaries.
Taylan's hands crackled with arcane energy as he unleashed a blast of fire, but the creatures remained unscathed, their skeletal forms seemingly impervious to the flames. Byron's claws slashed through the air with deadly precision, yet the creatures shrugged off his attacks with unnerving ease.
One of the Necrophidii lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut with a sickening crunch as it sank its fangs into Calli's flesh. She cried out in pain, but managed to keep her inspiring song going even as it savaged her of almost all life.
In a flurry of movement, Trevor stepped forward, his mace held aloft as he delivered a crushing blow to one of the creatures, shattering its bones with a sickening crunch. But even as the creature crumbled to dust, its companion pressed on, undeterred by its companion's demise.
With Calli wounded and the drake's attacks proving ineffective, they both retreated to safety, their hearts pounding with fear as they watched the battle unfold before them. Taylan unleashed another volley of magic missiles, the arcane energy crackling through the air as it struck the remaining Necrophidius with unerring accuracy.
Byron plunged his claws into the creature, inflicting massive damage. But despite his best effort, the creature continued to advance, its movements fluid and graceful as it swayed in a hypnotic dance. Byron and Little Focker suddenly found themselves ensnared by the mesmerizing display, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated as they fell under the creature's spell.
Realizing the danger his companions were in, Trevor rushed to their aid, his muscles straining with effort as he delivered blow after blow to the remaining Necrophidius. With a final, resounding strike, he shattered the creature's bones, breaking its spell and freeing Byron and the drake from its hypnotic sway.
The fight was over. Calli, once again healed herself before they moved on to the next challenge.
They quickly discerned that the acid-spewing skulls needed time to replenish their supply. Little Focker soared down the corridor once more, effortlessly dodging the corrosive streams, thus clearing the path for the rest of the group to proceed without peril. Calli pulled some chalk out of one of her pouches and made clear markings around the still dripping bones so that they'd be able to pick them out again on their way back. Or, she thought, if someone like Nightingale were to finally come after them. Arriving at a sturdy wooden door, their usual caution gave way to urgency. With the threat of the skulls looming, they had no choice but to forgo their usual meticulous checks. Instead, they pushed open the door and surged into the room without hesitation.
Upon entering the room, the party was assaulted by the overpowering stench of decay and chemical reagents. Wooden tables, laden with vials, beakers, and assorted alchemical equipment, cluttered the space, their surfaces marred by the remnants of spilled liquids and shattered glass. The southernmost table, weighed down by a chaotic heap of broken vials, teetered precariously on a hastily repaired leg, a testament to the hurried nature of its repair.
Against the east wall stood three large cauldrons, their once pristine surfaces tarnished by neglect. One of the cauldrons lay upended, its putrid contents of rendered fats spilling forth in a noxious pool that coated the floor in a thick, greasy film. The air hung heavy with the cloying scent of decay, mingled with the acrid tang of alchemical compounds.
Amidst the clutter, a lone Derro toiled tirelessly, his hunched form bent over a broken table as he worked to repair the damage wrought upon it. The sound of his frantic efforts echoed through the chamber, a discordant symphony amidst the oppressive atmosphere of decay and neglect.
Upon seeing the Derro, every one of the party attacked it and fought with a coordinated fury, their weapons and spells weaving a deadly dance of destruction. Trevor's axe swung with primal force, yet missed its mark, while Byron's claws tore through the air, leaving deep gouges in the creature's chest. Taylan's magic missiles erupted from his eyes, striking the Derro with unerring accuracy, while Calli's silver dagger found its mark, piercing the creature's flesh with lethal precision. It was the first time she’d used the weapon since recovering it from Verik Vancaskerkin, and she was surprised to realise that in spite of it being silver it didn't have the same slight weakness that the material normally gave. Little Focker, the Drake, swooped in with a swift strike of his pointed tail, adding his own lethal contribution to the fray. The battle was over before the Derro could even retaliate.
The party looked around the room and amidst the clutter, they discovered a trove of valuable items, including a vial of potent healing elixir that restored some of Trevor's strength. Tanglefoot bags and a handy haversack, imbued with powerful magic, were also uncovered, offering invaluable resources for their continued journey.
Turning their attention to the corridors leading from the room, the party's gaze settled upon a passage to the east and a door to the south. Listening at the door they heard someone stumbling around. Acting cautiously, they carefully broke a small hole into the wood to see what was beyond. Peering through the opening, they beheld a scene of chaos—a once orderly pantry now reduced to ruins. Broken crates and shelves littered the floor, their contents scattered amidst the debris. Yet amidst the wreckage, a grotesque humanoid figure emerged, its form a macabre amalgamation of rotting flesh and jagged bone. Clutching a severed arm adorned with Shoanti tattoos, the creature exuded an aura of death and decay. It clearly was a Golem, and it had the next body part they needed to collect!
The party's initial impulse was to unleash their fury upon the grotesque creature, its vile form a grim reminder of their quest for Gaekhan's missing body parts. However, Byron's suggestion offered a different perspective. With a calm demeanour, he proposed a strategic approach: the creature was contained for now, so their priority should be locating the Necromancer responsible for this abomination. The idea resonated with the group, recognizing the wisdom in focusing their efforts on the larger threat first. With a collective nod of agreement, they resolved to defer their confrontation with the abomination and instead ventured forth into the mysterious depths of the Eastern corridor, eager to uncover the secrets that lay ahead.
