Excerpted from the journal of Etaf Gerin
April 15, 1376 (The Year of the Bent Blade)
Since we apprehended the Grackle in the town of
“We should consider our next
task,” Friar Francis said last night at dinner. He pointedly ignored Badaxe,
who was already well on his way to yet another drunken stupor, and addressed
Helieos, Ahmed, and I. Omiata was off doing whatever rogues do in small towns
like Stillsquall, and I could only hope whatever it was didn’t mean we would
have to make a hasty exit in the morning. “I’ve heard that the lighthouse at
Deadlight Rock is in need of repair, but workmen won’t go near it because of
the strange noises and lights.”
“The Magistrate tells me we
should look into the mine troubles.” I glanced around and lowered my voice. “He
says there’s a strange disease affecting the workers, and….”
I was interrupted by a
thundering clash as Badaxe leapt up onto our table, scattering food everywhere.
“No sickness for Badaxe! No sickness!” Every eye in the room was on us now – so
much for keeping the news of disease quiet. Ahmed calmed the dwarf, coaxing him
off the table and back to his ale.
“We should consult with Aurus
in the morning,” Helios rumbled. “All of us, packed and ready to go. Whatever
we decide, we move immediately.” Francis and I nodded. We’d better move on
before Stillsquall decided we were too much trouble to tolerate.
The meeting with the
Magistrate in the morning yielded no new information, and we were deadlocked
over what to do. Go to the mines, and risk disease? Or go to the lighthouse,
and face the undead? The obstinate refusal of Badaxe to go anywhere near the
disease finally decided us – if a dwarf didn’t want to go underground, it was
probably a bad idea to ignore him. We headed for Deadlight Rock.
The stone lighthouse was
extremely run down. Only about 4 stories remained intact, about half the
original height. Close behind the building, a steep drop promised a quick trip
to the ocean below for anyone that got too close. The wooden door was locked,
but that proved no match for Omiata’s lock-picking skills. Hearing nothing
inside, he eased open the door and ventured in.
The interior of the lighthouse
was dimly lit from light filtering through a few window slits. A spiral stair
led upward toward the higher floors. A tattered rug lay in the center of the
room. We all ventured inside, peering about in the gloom. Suddenly, without
warning, Omiata bent down and then ran outside, dragging the rug behind him.
Dust rose in huge clouds, making our eyes water and causing several coughing
fits.
Ahmed was less than amused.
“What do you think you’re doing!?!” he roared at the elf. “Now anything within
half a mile knows we’re here!”
“I thought there might be a
trap or…” Omiata trailed off and quickly looked away. It looked as if Ahmed was
ready to continue, but just then Badaxe spotted something.
“Badaxe!” (We have got to
increase that dwarf’s vocabulary.) It didn’t take long to figure out that he
had found a hidden door in the wall, complete with a small pebble that
controlled its opening. Ahmed immediately opened the door and peered down the
dark hallway beyond.
“Now who’s not being careful?”
cried the elf. “There could be anything down there…”
Francis intervened before
anything more than words could be exchanged. After a brief discussion, we
decided to head upstairs before exploring the secret passage. Omiata and Ahmed,
neither willing to trust the other to scout, moved up the stairs together. They
called down that they had found a skeleton, but otherwise saw nothing but
spider webs. Everyone but Badaxe trooped up the stairs – he clearly wasn’t
thrilled by the idea of going up off solid ground. Ahmed started to rummage
around near the skeleton, but suddenly jerked upright with a cry. “Something crawled across my back!”
A dark shape scuttled across
the floor and up into once of the cobwebs in the corner. Helieos jumped toward
the cobweb as Badaxe, roused by the cry, finally made his way up the stairs. A
huge spider dropped from the web right in front of Helieos, startling him into
a shout. The spider crouched to strike – and fell dead as a bolt from Omiata’s
crossbow skewered it to the wall!
There was a pause as everyone
(including the rogue) gaped for a moment at the dead creature. Then Helieos,
Badaxe, and I shouted our congratulations to Omiata for his fine shot, while
Francis gathered up all the valuables from the room, including some of the
skeleton’s old armor. Ahmed, clearly not ready to openly congratulate the elf,
instead stripped the spider’s poison gland from its carcass.
“Here,“ he said, thrusting the
gland at Omiata. “It’s worth good money to the right apocathery.” The look on
Omiata’s face clearly said that he wanted no part of dead spider organs, but
Ahmed was obviously trying to mend fences, so he gingerly took the gland and
dropped it into a small sack. Then the rogue quickly turned and moved up to the
third floor, closely followed by the rest of the group.
Nothing awaited us but dust on
the third floor. We did notice shuffling sounds coming from above – the fourth
floor must be occupied. Francis, convinced that undead creatures stalk through
this lighthouse, called on Lathlander to reveal the undead presence. Nothing
was revealed above us, though he did feel a presence from well below. Assured
that the supernatural did not await us above, Ahmed moved quickly up the
stairs, followed closely by Helieos and the rest of us.
Undead are not the only
hazards in this world. Ahmed staggered back, bleeding from a deep wound in his
arm, as I heard the monk shout a wordless battle cry. It was hard to see around
the half-orc’s huge frame, but I could make out a huge bird-like creature, horned and with
razor-sharp claws. I slipped on the stairs and fell while trying to get out
of the way, and was almost trampled by Badaxe. Regaining my feet, I watched as
blow after blow rained down on the creature (Ahmed later identified it as a
peryton), but it refused to stop its attack. Finally, missing one wing from a
dwarf axe blow and much of its horns from fist and mace blows, a final crossbow
shot dropped the monstrous bird to the floor.
The peryton, like many of its
kind, had collected things it fancied. Most of it was of no value, but Ahmed
found a fine mace (which he reluctantly yielded to Francis), and there was gold
as well. Francis bound the injuries of our wounded, and we rested a brief
while, under the springtime sun shining down through the ruined lighthouse
roof.
Moving back down the stairs,
we returned to the secret door on the first floor. I lit my lantern to illuminate
the way, and Omiata led us through a dark passage into a storage room. It was
filled with dusty boxes and crates, obviously unused for years. As we all
followed him in, we heard a skittering noise, and were suddenly assaulted by
several huge rats. These were a real threat – nearly two feet long, with
inch-long teeth – but still they proved no match for our group. The maces,
swords, fists, and crossbow bolts of my companions disposed of the rats, taking
barely a scratch in the process.
All the boxes and crates in
this room promised to hold interesting items, but a thorough search revealed
nothing. Badaxe, uninterested in the dusty containers, examined the stone walls
instead – and found not one hidden door, but two! Whoever had built this place was
extremely fond of hiding places. They had also been fond of setting traps on
these doors, but Omiata was able to disarm those with little effort. The first
door revealed a chest, containing several useful items, including a scimitar
that burst into flames when wielded – Ahmed was ecstatic.
The second door opened onto a
small room lit by two small glowing orbs set into the walls, and containing a
bookcase filled with books and scrolls. I was ready to rush right in to see
what knowledge I could glean from the books, but Omiata was more cautious.
Carefully scanning the room for traps, he carefully moved forward – and
vanished as soon as he passed those glowing orbs!
For a moment we all stood
stunned, staring blankly at the empty room. Then Helieos and Francis ran
forward, the latter calling, “Our companion is in need!” I hesitated – if we
all ran in there, we might be the ones in need. And besides, there might be
another way to get to those books….
I never got a chance to try
any other possibilities, as Ahmed and Badaxe charged forward, pushing me before
them. With no transition, we found ourselves in a basement room full of casks
of wine – clearly a storage room for an inn. The shock of relocation jogged my
memory – I had read of similar things in the past. “I know what that was – a portal! The land hereabouts is riddled
with them. Unwary adventurers can end up almost anywhere in the world if they
use unfamiliar portals….”
I trailed off, as no one was
paying attention. Badaxe and Ahmed were already up the stairs and moving into
the inn’s common room, with the others close behind. Clearly the “how” of our
travel was less important than the smell of food and promise of ale. Ahmed
stopped short right inside the door. “I know this place – this is the Old Skull,
in Shadowdale! Hey, Jeleal!”
Ahmed did indeed know this
place, and was even on good terms with the owner, Jeleal. She was more than
happy to seat us and serve inordinately large amounts of ale and food. She
barely noticed that we’d come up through the basement rather than through the
door – we weren’t the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last. “No one ever
goes out that way, though,“ she told us. “There may be a portal down there, but it only goes one way.”
So much for our plans to clear
the lighthouse and collect a reward from the Magistrate. Despite the good food
and warm atmosphere, my mood soured. Would Aurus report to Oahbe that I had
left without helping him? Would my sister suffer the consequences? It would
take days to return to Stillsquall, assuming we could even find transport.
I was so absorbed in worrying
that I failed to notice the stranger until he sat down at our table. A
distinguished older man, he had clearly approached my companions while I was
distracted. He laid a sheathed sword on the table, earning our instant
attention.
“I am Lhaeo, scribe to the
great mage Elminster. Jeleal tells me that you are adventurers, newly arrived
here. I have a matter that requires immediate attention, but no one to send.
Let me explain the situation, and perhaps you will be willing to assist me. But
first I must ask that you swear to reveal this to no one else – it is a
delicate matter.”
Elminster! What an opportunity
to learn more about magic! I spoke up immediately. “We would be honored to help
an associate of Elminster, good sir. I speak for us all when I say we will of
course keep your business private.” That earned me a few dirty looks from my
companions, but no one disagreed. Satisfied, Lhaeo explained the situation.
Recently Randal Morn, the
rightful ruler of Daggerdale, had learned of the location of the tomb of
Shraevyn, a powerful wizard from ancient times. This wizard was rumored to be a
great creator of magical weapons, including the legendary Axe of the Dales, which
was rumored to allow its user to breathe underwater and break any binding
chains by speaking the word “Merrydale”. Determining to claim this artifact for
himself, Randal set out to explore and claim the tomb. In so doing, however, he
had run afoul of the Zhentarim (at this Ahmed started – clearly he had some
history with these assassins). Randal had reached the tomb, but the Zhentarim
caught up with his party and slaughtered his guards, capturing Randal. Only one
man escaped, and though sorely wounded, was able to reach Lhaeo and relate the
tale before succumbing to his wounds.
“This is the sword of that
man.” Lhaeo looked around the table, his face grave. “It is essential that
Randal be found and returned to his home unharmed. If he were to be killed, the
entire region around Daggerdale could fall into chaos. The Zhentarim know this,
but for the moment they seem to want him alive. I fear that their plans may
result in something even worse. I can provide you with supplies and mounts, if
you will find Randal and return him to me unharmed. Elminster and I are
prepared to reward you handsomely for this service.”
Looking at my companions, I
could see no discussion was needed. Francis and Helieos would do anything to
avoid chaos and death in Daggerdale. Ahmed was already muttering curses against
the Zhentarim. I could see Omiata anticipating the riches to be found in the
tomb of Shraevyn, and Badaxe had been practically frothing at the mouth since
the mention of the Axe of the Dales. As for myself, I had no intention of
passing up a chance to put myself in a position to earn a reward from
Elminster. Not only would that be a great opportunity for magical learning, but
surely Elminster could help me solve the problem of Oahbe.
“We would be happy to assist
you, Lhaeo. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
Last updated 04-20-2005 by Skip Franklin
