Coming to Diamond Lake

 

Found Entry: A Strange Meeting at the Able Carter Coaching Inn

 

 

 

(( Entries Missing))

 

 

 

 

 

Second Day in the Free City

* Trouble with Mimics

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Coming to Diamond Lake

 

The carriage jolts me from uneasy sleep as its wheel runs over a stone in the path. The small girl on my lap also stirs, rubs her eyes with small fingers, readjusts herself and falls back to sleep. I feel her little hands twitch as her dream retakes her. She clutches to me like I used to my mother, so long ago.

 

As a small child I always clung to locks of her coppery blonde hair, held it close to my cheeks as she held me. She smelled like honey and the breath of butterflies. I had strange descriptions like that for everything ... I still do. She was always so worried for me. Always. I was never very healthy. I didn’t cry as an infant, I was probably too weak to do so. I couldn’t walk until I was three years old. So she carried me with her, and always singing to me. She always sang her stories. Her name was Celwhen.

 

My father always loved to hear her sing lullabies. That soft smile of his as he sat in his chair, I’ll always remember that smile. His laugh... his humor... his silence ... and that damned sigh. He’d never yell at me, never scold me when I did something wrong. All he had to do was exhale and look down and away. I can feel my heart jumping into my throat as I recall it’s heavy sound. It was worse than being beaten, worse than screaming ... I wish he would have yelled at me. It was horrible to feel his disappointment. When I sleep I sometimes hear it next to my ear, and I awake to the urge to cry. Is he disappointed? Because I ran? He told me to run. I did as I was told... but did he want me to stay?

 

 

o0o

 

The smell of honey has become blood. Rusted iron and dirt. My mother is just lying there, in a heap where she landed. Where he killed her. That human man. The men came and... I close Mother’s eyes with shaking fingers. The lids feel waxy, slow to move. In this darkness I can’t see the red of her hair or the green of her eyes. I see the various shades of gray as my night vision adjusts. No color... just grays. Something else I inherited from Asmodai Aron. The dagger is still embedded in her collarbone, her skin stained dark where the blood settled into the pores, the floor beneath her reeking of it. I feel my eyes burn, but I do not cry. I’ve never cried. I don’t know how. I will bury her with my uncles. I will bury them... and pray to whatever God that will listen to bring them peace, to help me find the men that did this to them... to find my father and --

 

... and I am suddenly terrified. My hair feels to stand on end, tiny prickles up my skin. I look down to see gem-sized spiders trail along my arms from within the blood matted tangles of my mother’s hair. Hundreds of them. All of them surrounding me. I cry out and bat them off of me, off of my mother’s body. They hiss a shriek, jumping away. I suddenly feel a cold shadow overtake me, a presence of hate, of pain behind me. I slowly turn, and take in the form of a massive arachnid, fangs dripping with venom. I can hear her voice in my head as she laughs, and the little ones laugh, too. Before she speaks I know that my prayer has been heard by only Her. Lloth’s forelegs become arms as she pulls me up close to black, elfin eyes, a dark mockery of my mother’s face before me. She smiles and tells me... One of Light... the Darkness take you... I look away from her eyes. Father told me that a Drow man never looks the women in the eyes. Never look them in the eyes, but they’re there when I close my own! The dark eyes, obsidian mirrors, seem to grow larger, hiding everything behind them. The darkness takes me, and I wake to find myself in the company of a family caravan.

 

The wagon jerks sharply again as a wheel runs over another rock. I blink away the nightmare, and rub the small lump forming on my scalp from my head bouncing off the wall of the coach. There is no Spider Queen, no blood, no bodies. Just me and the Gholjourn family on their way to see the “Dancer of Death,” and other such oddities in Diamond Lake.

 

The little one stirs again, sitting up and glancing sleepy-eyed around the dark. The lamps hanging by the window creak and sway, casting eerie shadows across the faces of her parents. I notice the girl’s father is staring at me. I smile, and nod in his direction. He quickly smiles back. He is a jovial human, but I can’t help but despise him. It’s not his fault either. I bury the hatred for this innocent man and look down at the little half elf child now fully awake.

 

 

o0o

 

I wear some of my father’s old garb, and pack what is left of my belongings... what is left of my happiness here; the bedroll and blanket my father and uncles gave me for our first wilderness adventure. The blanket is a cobalt blue, scratchy, but enough to keep me warm on frozen ground with snow flurrying. My father’s signet ring is gone. What jewelry we had was robbed. They even took my mother’s wedding band... the bastards. I feel the rage bubbling up again, suffocating me. Our banner over the door is half burned, as though some Divine intervention occurred to prevent the settlement from burning to the ground. But Who’s Divine will? And should I care? The silver oak, branches twisting high and outward to the free sky. No leaves adorn it, but still it holds majesty. It was my father’s House Crest, down in the Underdark, but altered to suit his new name and new life.

 

My father’s eyes ... they’re the only thing he has given me that I still have. That and my name. My name is Chaim Aron. I’m seventeen years old. I’m a quarter human on my mother’s side. It’s amazing what love can produce between two different races. An Elf of Light and a human can make a wonderful, beautiful half-elf woman. That same woman coupled with an Elf of the Underdark, and you get me. I don’t really look like my father, nor my mother really. All manner of pigment was lost on my skin due to being born with albinism. My skin is so light it takes on an almost grayish hue. Like a corpse or perhaps a marble statue. My hair also lacks in color, but I seem to have silver garnishing in highlights. My mother always did like playing with it.

 

I smile at the memory of her fingers through my hair, her voice singing of some legend or another. The stories she would tell balanced the darkness of my father’s. The horrors he witnessed... what is he going through now? I place a lock of my mother’s hair in my materials pouch, and walk into the daylight. My uncles tried to save her, save me... They took Astar’s head... one movement and it was rolled at my feet. So easily... so easily. My mother screams and rushes at him only to be...

 

I look at my home one last time. I’ll be back one day... with my father. I know he’s alive. He surrendered to keep me alive. I clench my fist and don’t look back. I make my way through wood and town, traveling along roadside, asking people I meet of the men in red. I am taken eastward. Sightings take me east. I will find them... I don’t know what I’ll do when I do, but ... I know I am not strong enough. They all died because I just wasn’t strong enough... too weak... too sick. Why can’t I be like him?

 

 

o0o

 

“What’s your name?” asks a small voice. I look down from the branch I sit on to see a dark child, half elfin, staring up at me. Her skin is olive and exotic, her eyes large and a sharp indigo. Her hair is near black, down her back and garlanded, a single braid in the back is wrapped with a bright blue sash. I smile.

 

“Chaim,” I respond cheerfully, “what’s yours?”

 

“Melantha.” she chirps, fidgeting with a small doll. I climb down with what grace I can muster. She seems in awe of me. She keeps staring. I smile again. “Why are you white?” she finally asks. I am a little surprised but don’t show it. I try my best to present myself the way my father would, never speaking more than I should, listening to every word, but keeping good humor.

 

“Melantha? That’s a pretty name,” I say, kneeling down in front of her, “it means ‘dark flower’, did you know that?” she shakes her head, and I swear I can hear the sound of faerie bells on the fine strands of her hair. I hold out my hand and look down at it. “I’m white, Melantha, because I am an albino. Do you know what that means?” She can’t be more than seven years old. She shakes her head again. “It means no color.”

 

“But your eyes have color,” she says quickly, a small finger brushing at my left temple. “They look gray, but I can see green too.” I chuckle and nod.

 

“Is your mother or father around?” I ask. She nods, steps aside and points back toward a caravan of travelers. They seem well off from the quality of horse and their clothing. The craft work of the coaches screamed “I’m rich!” Perhaps I could sing for my supper and gain a little information?

 

“They’re too busy. They told me to play, but my doll is so boring right now.” She held the doll up by its dark hair. It seemed a tinier version of herself.

 

“Will they be long?” I watch as servants load small trunks and baskets of rations into the coaches.

 

“Mother’s angry and we’re late.” I nod. I look at her with mischief.

 

“Do you like stories, Melantha?” She looks up at me as though I had said something foul. She shrugs. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Mother says that fairytales are for the ... un-ipped. My brow furrows in confusion, but then I realize she means “inept.” I tsk, the settle against the tree trunk.

 

“I must be one of them then, because I love fairytales. They certainly pass the time if you’re bored.” She sits beside me, the doll in her lap, looking up at me intently. She dares not request a story, but her eyes are pleading. I smile. “Have you ever heard about the princess and the Bullywug?”

 

“What’s a Bullywug?”

 

“Frog people.” She scrunches her nose and giggles.

 

“Frogs? Ew.” I nod.

 

“Bullywugs are a very territorial people, living in tribes in the jungles, and attacking and eating people that trespass on their territory.”

 

“They eat people?” Melantha asks wide-eyed. I nod.

 

“In a town by the shore, the people were afraid of them. The children were told never to go into the jungle alone, because the Bullywugs were out there. But one girl didn’t listen.”

“She went into the jungle?”

 

“Not very far. She was chasing a golden ball given to her by her father. It bounced off the cliffs and rocks, down into the water below. She had to cut across some jungle to try and get to the place where the ball landed.

 

“Wasn’t the water dangerous?” I nod.

 

“The water was churning around the sharp rocks, and try as she might to reach the ball she couldn’t. So she found a small branch and tried again. Still, she couldn’t reach the ball. Frustrated, she turned to go back to town to ask for help.”

 

“She should have done that in the first place.” Melantha chimed. I smile.

 

“When she entered the jungle again, she heard a terrible noise.”

 

“What was it?”

 

“A shrill cry, and roaring noises.” Melantha’s eyes widen.

 

“Oh no! She’ll be eaten up!”

 

“That’s what she thought too. But then she noticed that there were wild cats surrounding something about her size. It looked like another child, and he was hurt!”

 

“Oh no!”

 

“She couldn’t let him get eaten up by the wild cats! So she screamed really loud and shook the stick at them. The cats were frightened at the sound of the scream and ran away. She bent down to see if the boy was still alive, and he snapped his sharp teeth at her hand! He wasn’t a little boy at all.”

 

“He was a Bullywug!” Melantha gasped.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“That meanie, she saved his life and he tried to bite her!”

 

“And you know what she did then?”

 

“What?”

 

“She bopped him on the head with the stick.” Melantha released a shriek of delight. “The Bullywug was shocked. Such a small girl and yet so brave! He lay still, his leg badly hurt, and he just stared at her. She said, ‘my name is Melantha, and I’m here to help you.’” Melantha gasps.

 

“That's my name too!”

 

“So it is!” I say with mock surprise and a smile. “The Bullywug said nothing, but kept staring at her. Melantha took a ribbon from her hair and wrapped up the Bullywug’s leg. She stood up, dusting off her knees. ‘There,’ she said, ‘all better. Can you stand? What’s your name?’ The Bullywug blinked once, then twice, tilting his head from side to side.” I imitate the movements, making her giggle. “’My name is Gamesh,’” I changed my voice to suit the character. I have never encountered a Bullywug so of course it was purely a fictional rendition of one’s voice, raspy and medium pitched. Melantha was transfixed, smiling wide. I continued the story of the two unlikely friends, Gamesh leaving the ball at the girl’s window, and how the tribes attacked the town many years later when she became an adult. Of course Gamesh tried to stop it and was killed. This part made little Melantha, the real one, cry. Well, the story version cried too.

 

“The Bullywugs were driven back into the jungle, but poor Gamesh had paid dearly to save his friend’s life. Oh how Melantha cried for him, for a full night. She held that gold ball tightly, the symbol of their friendship, her tears falling onto its golden surface. Suddenly, the ball began to glow. She gasped. What was happening to the ball? Gamesh began to glow as well. When the light faded, Gamesh was gone, but there was a man laying in his place. He opened his eyes and looked around, confused. The man had Melantha’s ribbon tied to his belt. He recognized her and smiled. It was Gamesh! He was alive, and the ball had transformed him. He returned to the town with her and they stayed best friends forever.”

 

“Did they get married?”

 

“Sure,” I chuckle. She sighs heavily, as though exhausted.

 

“That was a good story.”

 

“Why thank you, Melantha. I’m glad you enjoyed it." She plays with her doll’s hair, not looking at me.

 

“I wonder what would have happened if she ran away at the beginning instead of staying to help?” Her words pang harshly, and I feel my chest constrict. I can’t answer her, and just shrug and shake my head in response.

 

I feel Melantha’s tiny hand wrap around my index finger, pulling me forward.

 

“C’mon!” I stand and allow her to lead me to her parents. A thin and dark skinned elf woman greets me with a cold stare. She seems strict, almost cold, as we approach. The various travelers busy themselves with last minute adjustments, ignoring me.

 

“Good afternoon, m’lady,” I smile. She doesn’t even blink a response. She’s like my grandmother, I realize. She hated me. Only met her once.

 

“Daddy!” Melantha chirped, “I made a new friend!” A large human man approaches, folding his arms across his chest. Melantha twists my finger as she pulls me toward him. I feel contempt rise like bile. I hide this irrational feeling, bury it as deep as I could. I smile to him. “His name’s Chaim! He’s an Albinian!” she states matter-of-factly. Her father raises his eyebrows at me.

 

“A what?”

 

“That means no color, silly.” He blinks once, looks at his young daughter, and then again at me. He suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter, doubling over and bracing himself on his knees.

 

 

o0o

 

We arrive shortly after I awake in Diamond Lake, which of course neither part to it’s name is true. It is a grimy little mining town, and I can’t seem to understand as to why this group would have bothered to travel so far. All this for a freak show? Mr. Gholjourn gave me little in the way of information about the slave traders, but offered to take me as far east as he could. After traveling for days on foot without much rest or food, it was welcome. And now here I was, holding little Melantha as she wept, not wanting me to leave their group.

 

“Let the Bard leave, dear. He has business elsewhere,” her mother says softly. I wipe tears away, trying my best to act like my father used to when I was younger.

 

“There’s no need for that. I’ll see you again.” She sniffles.

 

“Promise?” I really can’t promise that, no matter how I want to. I reach into my pouch and pull out a small sphere of gold. It was worth maybe three gold pieces, and it was all I had in terms of capital at the moment, but... I put the orb in her tiny hands, holding mine over hers.

 

“This is to symbolize our friendship.” Melantha sniffles again, then smiles. She removes her hands from mine and reaches into her hair, unraveling the blue sash woven into the braid in the back. She holds it out to me.

 

“Like the story,” she whispers, and kisses my cheek. It’s now wet from her tears. She waves solemnly, as her mother takes her hand to lead her toward the Inn for the night. Mr. Gholjourn sighs as I stand, shaking his head. He smiles and shakes my hand. Something hard presses into my palm. A small bag of coin?

 

“There’s thirty gold in there.”

 

“Oh, sir, I couldn’t--” he holds up a hand, cutting me off.

 

“For entertaining my daughter for us during the journey. I know it couldn’t have been easy. I hope to see you again, Chaim. It was fun.” He claps me once on the shoulder. “Good luck, I’m sure you’ll find him.” What?

 

“Sir?” I ask. He smiles as he turns around to follow his wife and daughter.

 

“You talk in your sleep.” I clutch the small bag tightly as I watch the man walk away. Melantha rushes to him half way, waving to me, and then grabbing her father’s hand.

 

“Daddy, can I marry him?” I hear her say as she skips merrily, gold ball in the other hand. I hear him sigh.

 

“Ask me again in a few years.” I chuckle to myself, and turn to face the town’s night life. I have money to eat tonight, and to sleep indoors. Some place nice, yet not too expensive. I am eyed by grungy folk as though I bring the plague to their already flea-infested town. A warm glow catches my attention. The sign reads "Able Carter Coaching Inn". Looks clean enough...

 

 

 

 

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Lyke oh emm gee, dood! I love it! No wonder Chaim gets so frustrated, he's supposed to be the main character of his story, and everybody else keeps stealing his thunder. I bet "The Princess and the Bullywug" would have made Talin cry when she was little, too. Can't wait to hear more! ~Courtney!

 

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A Strange Meeting at the Able Carter Coaching Inn

 

((This first part about the town with the Gathered Information Chaim received will be flushed out later))

 

I have taken up a temporary residence at the Able Carter Coaching Inn. The Town, I have gathered, is rather poor due to unfair working conditions, and general mistreatment. The income for the town consist of a gaming club, Zalamandra’s oddities and various… attractions, one of which is the popular Dancer of Death… and something to do with rats; a ruthless individual that can only be described as a pig walking on two legs named Smenk, whom appears to have a crushing grip on this little town, suffocating its people in blackmail when not being crushed with rocks. He also apparently owns three rather large Apes guarding the interior of his home. A very pompous and, shall we say flamboyant elf that owns the silver mines, considers himself royalty. A sad little king on his sad little hill, no? And then there is a Dwarf by the name of Dourstone, whom runs many of the mines.

 

None of this means a thing to me. It is information gathered for the sole purpose of communicating with the locals. I’ve listened to their sob stories, never once hearing of any sightings of Men in Red or Denizens of the Underdark.

 

I sit, barely paying attention to the drunken human sitting opposite me. He tells me of how he and his team of coworkers were trapped beneath the rock of a cave-in, surviving on wits, and breathing through hollow tubes inserted into the rubble. I am not sure how much to believe of this fantastic tale, but I take from it what I can. I am distracted as the bar maid passes with a smile. She’s human.

 

Her dress is form fitting, laced up the front. Her hair, dark, rests on her shoulder and feathers her back, highlighted by the torch and candle light. She dodges through the drunken patrons with grace, the tray swaying maybe once atop her fingertips.

 

“Why do you care?” comes a sloshed voice from across the table. This jars me to attention and from my hypnotized state.

 

“I enjoy hearing the stories of the common man. Some may think that your work is unimportant, but I know differently. Your work keeps the economy strong, your sacrifice an inspiration! Such stories you have to share of your survival in such harsh conditions.”

 

To this he smiled, then tried to stand. “We don’t get many bards that like to hear stories rather’n tell. It was nice ta meetcha, Chaim.” I shake the inebriated man’s hand, and offer to help him walk to the door. The barmaid has returned, and holds him by the shoulder. She smiles.

 

“I’ll take care of him,” and guides him to the door. She returns moments later, that same, beautiful smile gracing her face. She is human… and yet I feel no wrath toward her. It’s strange.

 

“Thank you. It was sweet of you to listen to him.” I feel my stomach drop as she speaks. I only smile and nod, as no words form. I am taken in by this female’s smile and a radiant kindness. “Did you want more wine?”

 

“Oh, why, yes, thank you.” I pay her for another glass of what the place tries to pass off as a red wine, then leave for her a gold tip. She thanks me, and then leaves. Strange, I can barely believe my own behavior. My mother had told me stories of barmaids that entrance men for their gold and trinkets. With such a warmth and natural beauty, I can understand why travelers could be so bewitched.

 

I finger a coin in my hand, bored, and contemplate just where I should move on to next. Diamond Lake had nothing for me, if only a smile. Perhaps I might not find them, rather I hope that they find me. Uncle Valefore is quite adept at disguise. One day I might stumble across him as a Light Elf (I have seen him thus before as he and some of the others would go off to trade beyond the safety of Sword Cliff’s boundary of trees and stone; perhaps he has disguised Father and Uncle Seere in similar fashion?). I know they escaped. I know it! I just... I must be diligent, find a way to ... I spin the coin on the table, watching it become an ovoid blur and ring mildly. Reflections of the torches dance along the wood.

 

The door opens, and to everyone’s amusement, a small, pale, sash and ribbon decorated Light Elf steps through. She scans the bar, ignoring lecherous gapes and comments. The coin, it seems, attracted her immediate attention. She stops before my table, smiling down at me. I immediately slap the coin down, almost staring in as much surprise as the other patrons that she would have any such purpose with me.

 

She wears her silvery hair in a tight braid, beginning at the temples as braided pigtails, and then joining into a larger one in the back. She has decorated her pink dancer’s garb with so many multicolored free flowing ribbons and sashes that it is almost painful to look upon her. She is tiny, yet graceful.

 

“Um,” I stammer, “hello, Miss. May I help you?” She smiles with an almost dreamy countenance, and introduces herself as Fern Nodelo. Nodelo, that is Light Elf for Night Moon… I gesture for her to sit, which she does. I introduce myself, and ask her again, what she needed. She proceeded to ramble about being approached by a young man named Thomas that needed her protection from ghost’s in a Cairn somewhere for the next night. I asked her what it had to do with me, and she asked if I would be interested in protecting her from drunken adolescent boys without girlfriends. This is a strange request, and rings a familiarity for some story Mother had spun about a haunted cairn that belonged to the Wind Dukes. The Whispering Cairn. Intrigued I agree to do so. She pauses, looking me over.

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Seventeen.” Her eyes widen.

 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I can’t help but stammer, her question catching me completely off guard. What kind of question is that to ask someone you have just met? Is this how society works? So strange, and I must adapt to this in order to blend.

 

“I have female friends, if that’s what you mean,” which is not entirely a lie… but she is only seven. Fern shakes her head slowly, the look of disappointment and shock in her wide, glazed eyes.

 

“Oh, no...” I furrow my brow in confusion. Just what was so wrong?

 

 

 

o0o

 

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Second Day in the Free City

 

((This is a bit of a jump; I should fill in the rest at a later date))

 

Vincent's behavior seems to have gotten more desperate. I know he wants to find the Tear of Ehlonna, to change, but... I can't seem to understand why. It seems to me that it's to please Fern, to attract her, but... the way she treats those of us not of her kind... even if he were to undergo Divine transformation, would she accept it? I really doubt someone like her would care. I find the woman shallow. Vincent, I know he's using me to find the Tear. I offered, after all. I'd like us to be friends, but... I don't know. I spent most of the night with Secilius, talking of rumors and intrigue. I spoke little of my companions, I didn't really trust this man, so I gave him what information wouldn't be too revealing to their weaknesses... although Vincent seemed to do that well enough on his own. I tried to speak with him about his feelings for Fern, and though true I am inexperienced in courting and even love, I wanted to offer what I could. My Mother would have done that. We could tell her anything...

 

 

I left Vincent to his woes, and turned in for the night, after escorting my new "friend" to where he needed to be. After that afternoon, I would take no chances... even if everyone seems to think me frail and weak. Vincent has been probing more lately about my complexion. The first to really notice, or rather say anything, which surprised me. It actually hurt me to hear my party's opinion of me in this way. Sickly-looking, sensitive, meek, and frail. Do I really appear this way? I have been spoken down to like I'm some sort of coward or young child. I rarely show emotion, and sometimes Fern manages to get the worst part of me to reveal itself. I am not an emotionless stone wall, although days like this I wish I were.

 

 

When I woke, I waited in the dining area of the Two Necked Swan for Vincent. The Half-Orc at the bar informed me he had left earlier without me. So I walked alone to The Traveler's Rest, where the party agreed to reconvene for breakfast. Vincent was already there, as were the rest of the party. I ate little, more worried for Vincent's current state of being. He had ordered a large sum of rum, which apparently did nothing to effect his sobriety. The Traveler had prestidigitized water, and unfortunately my Tiefling friend noticed. Despite our pleading, Vincent did not slow his consumption of real alcohol. We then continued to Allustan's friend, Eligos' mansion in the Garden District. The plants in his gardens seemed sentient, opening their buds and following our movement. An Elf servant answered the door, and led us inside.

 

 

The interior was decorated with tapestries and ornate rugs that depicted various battles of different realms. The shelves were full with various lore and magic, of which I could have sworn Thomas drooling. As the master of the house greeted us, I introduced the party. Thomas presented the letter from Allustan. Only the Gods know what he wrote, as the old man seemed greatly amused with what was said. Wine was served, a very good one, and we proceeded to discuss the Age of Worms, Kyuss, his spawn, and various other things. We provided him with a worm sample from Filge's research, what we had discovered in our adventures thus far with the undead they created, copies of the journal entries and letters between the Faceless One and the poor Cleric of Hextor, and vials of the black substance from the Ebon Triad's Temple. Upon mentioning the Keep and Marzena, Eligos dropped the tidbit that she and Allustan had had a "thing" once, and was surprised that they were speaking after their falling out. Try as I might to keep a straight face, Talin's innocent laughter left me smiling. He told us it would take a week or so to gather what information he could, and that he would keep in contact. Maybe I am just paranoid, but I don't trust this human either. He seemed fascinated with Talin's circlet (which she apparently had liberated from the Whispering Cairn while I was gone), and asked strange questions about the Lords of Wind and so forth. He then told us to wait for instruction at the Crooked House, and that the keeper there should give us a discounted price should we tell him Eligos had sent us. We decided to check this place out, having never explored there before, and thought it a good idea to know the area should trouble arise.

 

 

"The Crooked House, eh? I wonder if it'll cave in on us if we open the door?" I joked.

 

"No, that'd be the Kobold House," Croi quipped without missing a beat. Needless to say we were shocked at his sudden humor, and welcomed it. We were greeted by a Gnome by the name of ((insert when I get my NPC list next game)), whose very appearance made Thomas erupt into stifled fits of laughter, only to be released as the Gnome walked away. The man is growing more and more mad by the day. We sat at a lop-sided table, taking in the quite warped surroundings. The Gnome would periodically stop at the table and ask us if we needed anything. Seeing it rude to merely sit and order nothing Talin was the first to ask for a room. We were told there were no more double rooms, only singles; a troupe of merchants had taken a majority of the rooms already. To this, Talin rolled her eyes and looked to me, our inside joke that every time we go somewhere conveniently something happens. This silent conversation prompted me to smile as I too paid for a room. The Gnome's departure prompted hysterical laughter from our insane wizard, who nearly fell from his uneven chair. Motey stood on a normal sized chair, the top of his head barely over the table. Talin and I tried to position a child-sized chair on top of that one so that he might join us fully. I had asked for a high chair, which was responded to by Talin's giggles.

 

 

Soon after this, Vincent and Thomas began discussing business with one of his swords, to add magic to it. He handed it across the table to our wizard, who told him it would take a day or two. Vincent then made it known that he had some errands to run. I asked if he needed company, knowing fully what his errands consisted of. He declined. Apparently a messenger had come whilst we slept, and left word to meet him at the docks alone. I did not trust this, neither did the others. Vincent wouldn't allow any to come, even I who knew precisely what he was doing. He embraced an angry Talin, telling her he would be all right, and would tell her everything when he came back. This made my insides churn, but I made no outward sign of my displeasure at this. He said he would tell me later what went on before leaving the inn. After a few moments, Fern rose from her seat. Knowing she meant to follow him, I warned,

 

 

"Fern, don't. Just--" she raised a hand to silence me, with a nod to show that she knew what she was doing, with a little condescending expression. Stumbling over what words were trying to make their way out, Fern left. Motey had slipped away with much more stealth, apparently at the behest of Talin, which at the moment I had not noticed. All I could do was sigh. Talin was not happy. She complained openly about how stupid it all was, how completely shady. To reassure her that what he was up to was not illegal (as far as I knew, or would admit to), I sprinkled a bit of information about his intentions. He is doing something for Fern. That's why I didn't want her to follow-- but perhaps she needs to be there. Talin was still unconvinced, and still she was irritated.

 

 

I know that she has feelings for Vincent. I've known for some time, ever since the mines. True, in Diamond Lake, in the Cairn, we knew one another only briefly, for only a day. When I escaped the bonds of the Grimlocks, and found myself blocked from any other escape by Tiefling guards, I was almost at a complete loss. I had no weapons save the rope I made into a modified lasso, and no way of casting spells without my materials. I was sure as dead. Imagine my excitement as the mine shaft elevator lowered itself, confusing the guards. There were others with her that I didn't recognize, Nix not among them. She fought, they all fought, not noticing my presence at all. Talin was startled as I spoke to her. She merely asked where I had come from, no relief in her voice, only annoyance. And her later response... As the fighting subsided, they continued as they were, no one asking if I was all right. I didn't let it get to me, after all, I barely knew these people, why should what they think matter to me? I remarked, with sarcasm in my tone to break the tension, "I missed all of you, too. I'm fine by the way."

 

Talin paused and turned to me with an expression I'll never forget. It was almost callous, and brought me to a dead stop. "It was a joke," I replied, and would continue with that line much later in our travels.

 

 

"Well," she began, no emotion to her tone, "We've had sort of a rotating cast of characters appear and disappear, so we really thought nothing of it." It shouldn't have effected me as it did. I barely know the girl, and she's Human at that. It tore through me. Here I was, starved, dehydrated, injured from spending a week tied to a stalagmite, and no word of welcome. I pretended to let the comment roll over me as she promptly turned back around to her business. As time went on, she and I talked more, and the feelings returned. I asked about other members that had come and gone while I was captured. "We had a pirate once..." After losing Sorin, whom I really had no feelings toward one way or the other, the Gods saw fit to throw that very pirate back into the mix that was our party. He stumbled from a room we had yet to explore, removing shackles like I had done the ropes. Seeing Talin's eyes light up, the smile and the cheerful cry of his name... He had known the party about as long as I had... showed more finesse, strength. I noticed how she watched him fight last night--

 

 

Her comment in the Temple of Plarn... as I played with her, she honestly thinks me fragile. I made the joke about blending in with the white of the walls, to this she giggled (a warming sound I might add) and commented that my eyes matched the rest of the disembodied ones on the wall. I feigned horror and turned to look. She laughed again, but genuinely thought me terrified. I... don't know how to feel about this. I should feel nothing really.

 

 

Ugh, this entry has been nothing but juvenile ramblings. I should document the story before it leaves my head. We waited for a time, and Motey came rushing back, scrambling for his cards to give us his panicked message.

 

"Motey find Vincent. He at water place." The docks, we concluded. "Vincent find Motey, tell Motey go. Vincent find Fern, tell Fern go."

 

"Fern hasn't returned." said Talin. To this, the Tomb Mote looked about, hissed a sigh and shrugged. He continued to tell us of a red headed man that met Vincent, but it was not his hair or skin that was red. Confused, we made to follow him anyway. As we began to leave, we heard a terrified scream from within the inn. We turned in time to see Vincent, our Vincent running the Gnome Keeper through with a dagger. He then drew the very sword that he had given Thomas. Vincent ran upstairs, leaving the Gnome dying on the floor. I rushed to him, and the others upstairs. Thomas seemed to know immediately that it was not our Vincent. I was hoping it was not. It made no sense! He had just left, the sword wielded still in our possession, and the hit was done in public. Vincent wouldn't have done so, and without his usual flair. It seemed like the blasted Kenku all over again, but rather auditory illusion it was visual. I pulled the dagger from the Gnome's heart and immediately healed him. Thank the Gods he lived, and seemed absolutely terrified of me. He backed away along the floor, asking what he had done, he didn't even know us. I tried to convince him that we were dealing with an imposter, and that someone had been targeting our party since we arrived. He still didn't seem to understand, but allowed me to help him to his feet. A scream sounded overhead in one of the rooms. I felt my stomach drop. The patrons below were growing unnerved, and several made to do something about it. I thought back to what my mother would do in her stories to calm a crowd, and thus did the same, fascinating them with my voice, calming them and telling them to not worry (with Motey imitating my motions, scaring the Gnome further), and keep to what they were doing. I would handle the situation, I told them.

 

 

With movements that surprised even me I rolled over the bar table to the staircase leading to the room I had heard the screams. As I came nearer I realized I was still holding the bloody dagger. I dropped it immediately, untying my whip and tracing the sigil to make me invisible. I followed a sudden crash of glass breaking to a room in which Vincent had escaped. He held the sword to a poor half dressed woman's throat, backing toward the window. Cookware was strewn about the room; clearly she was one of the merchants. I managed to pass by my party, who were trying desperately to coax Vincent to release the hostage.

 

 

"Can't we talk about this in a calm and rational manner?" Croidhamsa said with as much calm as he could.

 

"The time for talking's passed, love." this Vincent replied. It was his voice. The expression in his red eyes left me chill. I had never seen it before.

 

"Vincent, whatever it is, we can help you!" This thing that appeared to be Vincent continued to back away, and myself stepping closer to him. He seemed to sense my presence, although didn't quite know where I was. He looked about as though Death itself brushed his shoulder, much to the party's confusion. I stopped, carefully planning what to do next. Should I rush him and pull away the sword, pushing the woman to safety and risk my own? Get behind him somehow, wrap the whip about his throat and shove him from the window? As I was about to move for the first plan, black energy rushed in through the broken window, surrounding him and sapping his energy. I glanced out the window to see Filge with Motey outside, aiming at the window. Vincent stumbled forward only a little before straightening, and looking right to Talin.

 

 

"You shouldn't have done that, love," he said with a low and cruel tone. Before anyone could act, he removed the blade from the woman's throat, and with a direct precision that was clearly not Vincent's style, stabbed her twice in vital areas. He threw her forward and made for the window. In this blur of action, Talin caught the woman, tried to heal her, only to find that she could do nothing. There was hell in her eyes, a wrath I pray she never sets on me. Croi unleashed a bolt of lightning that burned a hole through the ceiling, crashing into the escaping Vincent. Thomas let loose a scorching ray, blasting Vincent full in the face. In a gut reaction I rushed forward and grappled the thing, the two of us nearly expelled from the window. I held on, glass cutting my limbs, becoming visible suddenly to everyone’s surprise, and pinned Vincent to the floor.

 

To our surprise, Vincent's features turned almost to clay, hair falling out and leaving a bald head. I recognized this immediately from stories Mother told me. It was a Doppelganger, a rare creature that could form itself into anyone it desired. Perfect spies and assassins. I'd never expected to see a real one before. I did not let go, even if it was apparently dead. Talin marched up to it, glaring down and fuming. She then went into a flurry of kicks and slaps at the creature, some of them actually connecting with me. Some of what she shouted was incoherent with rage. I called to someone to get the guards, so that they could see that there were these creatures present and making mischief, and not our members. Thomas smiled, "Will do!" and whistled merrily as he broke into a jog. Almost at the same time, the rest of us smelled burning. Looking through the hole in the ceiling, we noticed that the roof was set fire by Croi's lightning.

 

 

Before much could be said, Talin hurried from the room and shouted for water. I began to phase out of my conscious reality, inwardly praying that Vincent was still alive. I could hear Talin rushing about, running upstairs. Croidhamsa, in sudden clarity, rushed upstairs to join her, and summoned a water elemental to douse the flames. It seemed reluctant to touch them at first, but did the job. As I was alone with the creature, I found sudden inspiration to search it. Perhaps something relevant to finding our Tiefling companion were within its pockets? A dagger much like the one bloody in the hall, a very beautifully crafted sword, and a strange, ornate key were all that were on his person. The top of the key was that of a ship being pulled to the depths by an octopus-like monster. I pocketed these, and planned on revealing them to the party after dealing with our current mess. Soon after, Thomas and the Gnome arrived with the guards. The Gnome continued to babble about not knowing why he was attacked. I explained to the fullest detail they could understand of Doppelgangers, and that, in my sudden rush of impatience with their disbelief, rambled about their sights on our party, and that they may try to imitate another of us. I may be the next target as I was with Vincent when we were magically "attacked" the afternoon previous. They continued with scoffs, "yeah... riiight," one snickered.

 

 

"Do we need to make a safe-word or something?" I asked, irritated. For some reason this was amusing. Talin seemed irritated at these buffoons, and covered the poor woman we couldn't save with a sheet. I finally gave in to ignoring the bastardly Humans, and tended to the Gnome Keep's blood saturated clothes. Prestidigitation is a wondrous cantrip. He seemed flustered, but thanked me. The guard took the bodies away. The Keep stammered apologies and thank yous, and offered refunds and free stay, of which we gladly accepted.

 

 

 

o0o

 

 

Speeding out the door, we made to follow Motey to the docks, where we met up with a slightly disappointed Fern. She had been watching Vincent, followed him, but he had caught her, and told her to leave. She pretended to do so, but returned only to have ill luck in overhearing what he and his new associate were saying. Fern was never one to really pay much attention, even when she tries. If she weren't such a devious liar, I'd swear she was completely daft. Motey pointed at the dock and said, "Vincent here." The others were confused and looked about.

 

 

"He's under the dock?" I asked. Motey hissed and nodded. I ran my hand through my hair groaning with a realization. "Agh, the cave! The legends said it's held in a cave by the water. He probably dove for it." Of course no one knew just what "it" was yet. We asked Motey to dive down and look for him, or even a cave mouth. After a few moments, he returned.

 

 

"Did you find anything?" Motey his and shook its head. Fern continued to ramble about asking all over the place and not getting anything relevant. Ignoring her I began asking dock workers, anyone. She kept insisting that she did that already. Finally, as luck or Fate would have it, I found a man, after some bribing with several platinum from Fern, willing to give details on our friend. Apparently the man that he was talking to was wearing a red bandana, which is what Motey had tried to tell us. The other had a mermaid tattoo. They were carrying him in the opposite direction, and that he appeared drunk. Talin was exasperated, ranting that she knew this would happen, and how stupid Vincent was for going alone. Surely he would get an earful when we found him.

 

 

... which was shortly after speaking to the Human. He stumbled along, almost dead, bloody and ragged. We rushed to him, Croidhamsa and I healing him magically (Croi doing a much better job as he could heal severe wounds with his power and I only moderate). He began to look much better, his voice less weak and sentences more coherent as the blood returned to him. For some reason unbeknownst to me, the party decided to interrogate the pirate right in the middle of the street, despite my suggestion to move elsewhere. Talin was very clearly upset, asking what the hell had happened to him.

 

 

He began to explain that he met up with the man with a red bandana. He was alone. Then somehow was attacked and knocked out. I interjected that there were sightings of two individuals carrying him away. The other had a mermaid tattoo. It didn’t seem to register with him. Talin asked what was so important that he had to risk his life.

 

Talin asked where he was taken. Vincent said he didn't know, but he had to fight black-skinned elves to escape. All feeling of warmth left me, adrenaline pumping and stinging through my veins. These sensations numbed me, but not my voice it seemed. This strange terror seemed to give it its own will.

 

"Here? In the daylight?" I gasped. My thoughts ran rampant. Drow, in the city, or under it. I couldn't keep my thoughts to one place. I couldn't keep my consciousness from slipping into a dream-like terror.

 

 

"No, we were underground. They were speaking in some language I couldn't understand--"

 

 

"Undercommon," my voice continued without my mind to shut it up. I could feel everyone's eyes on me then. Vincent eyed me suspiciously.

 

"How d'you... know that?" I could merely shake my head. "I've heard you speak it before... in Diamond Lake." I couldn't say anything to defend myself. My vision, everything began to swim. All I could think of was my family, how they were butchered. My chest constricted. I thought of how close they were to finding out, wondering if I would be expelled or killed, if we should fight my kinsmen and I freeze like the last time... like in the mines when I saw the head of the Drow female, severed, and seeing only Astaroth, seeing his death over and over. I'll see them again and be useless.

 

 

"What does this have to do with anything?" Talin snapped to my defense.

 

 

I looked about and saw that people were beginning to take notice of us, watching. Again I suggested moving out of sight of public. To this they finally agreed, and we made our way into an abandoned warehouse. As we entered, I produced the key. I had nearly forgotten of it.

 

"This was on our Doppelganger friend," and shared the finding, glad that the subject had been changed and the eyes no longer boring into me. Talin commended me for my wit in searching the creature. So much was happening no one else had thought to. Fern, ever the curious thing, replied dreamily that it was a Kraken on the key's head, and proceeded to try and describe it. I know what a Kraken is. This prompted Thomas' idea to test this Vincent to make sure he wasn't another fake. What better way to get into our trust than send a wounded party member? That was very true, and of course i didn't think of it. Fern then asked him to reveal information only we would know, besides what he had said about my speaking in the Undercommon tongue at Diamond Lake. She asked him what Allastor-llustan’s (apparently was muddling several names into one) family had died from; Vincent promptly responded. But he didn’t stop with his correct answer. He spoke of he and Fern's discussion outside the Lizard Folk's caves, and that Fern had kissed him then. To this my eyes widened in surprise, as did everyone else's as we looked to our blushing elf warrior maid. She had kissed him? Her feverish blushing showed this to be true. It was the real Vincent.

 

 

He smiled almost vindictively. What was the matter with him? He seemed charged, full of spite, like he meant to lash out verbally and mar us, to protect his own pride.

 

 

“So,” I began, my wits about me once more, “I take it the messenger spoke of the package before you went to meet him?” The code the Traveler told us would be used to assure us it was his man. Vincent is an impatient individual, and I suspected he had been tricked.

 

 

“Package? What package?” Talin began, “Apparently Chaim is the only one that knows what’s going on!” She continued to rant about how stupid it was once again. I felt my insides squeeze as she shot an accusing glance toward me. Yes, I did, and do, keep secrets from her.

 

 

"You want the Tear of Ehlonna, right?" Fern asked. This surprised me, but only for a moment as I remembered that she had followed him. Again, he was asked why. With some struggle, Vincent explained that we had found that the Tear was in the city, and that it had the power to transform someone into another desired form... their true self.

 

 

… and he said he had seen it. In a capsule of liquid. Like something Filge would have. The fist sized diamond the shape of a tear. He needed to go back, get his things, and the Tear. That feeling of intense fear spread through me again as he described his escape. The Drow he defeated barely and ran. He paused and then said that the symbol on the key was on the building he had escaped from. Croi came up with a plan to wild shape into a blood hound and sniff Vincent’s trail to find the building, as he could not remember the path due to loss of blood.

 

 

“We need to go prepared,” My mouth answered before my brain could stop it.

 

 

“The trail will be cold while we dance around.” Thomas replied.

 

“Find the building first, mark it, something, but we can’t go in, not yet, not without light. A lot of light, sun sticks, scrolls of light, anything.” I was in that half dream state again, rattling off what I could remember, but automatically, not paying attention to the stares. Talin asked if I was all right. I barely heard her. I realized that I was shaking then. Vincent began a snide comment that was cut off by Fern.

 

“Don’t worry Chaim, we won’t ask you about the time you were captured.” Her voice pulled my glance. Confused, I merely asked, “By the Grimlocks?” I see she and Talin trade glances before my vision clouds into fight or flight.

 

 

“How many were there, Vincent? Were there any females?” Vincent said there were only the two males, that one barked an order at the other. “Do you remember what was said, any hand movements?” No, he said, still eying me with that hateful mischief. I was about to hyperventilate. I had never fought my own kind before… “Light, they’re sensitive to it, it will blind them, render their arms and ar-armor useless. They see perfectly in the dark—“

 

 

“And so do you.” Vincent said simply, his eyes gleaming. My stomach dropped, and I immediately met his gaze. I knew what he was the moment I saw him in the mines. I knew and I said nothing. I kept his secret. My eyes conveyed a pleading to him or a warning, I’m not sure, not to say any more. This only made him smile. It was an unsettling grin, and he only continued. “Why are you so pale, anyway?” He had asked this before.

 

 

“I… was born this way.”

 

 

“Why can you see in the dark?” I wanted to jump at him then, hurt him.

 

 

“You can too,” Talin said, the tension in the way she stood beside me uncomfortable.”

 

 

“That’s because I’m a Tiefling, we know that.” That gaze…

 

 

“So are you saying Chaim’s half-Tiefling?” Croidhamsa asked. It would have been more humorous, if I wasn’t beyond terrified, beyond feeling anything now than rage.

 

 

“Something like that.” Our eyes had never left one another. Why was he confronting me? What had I done? I never spoke of his secrets. If Fern found out… Filge, Croi, Thomas… what would they do? What would Talin say?

 

 

“Elves… can see better in the dark.” Talin said, unsure.

 

“Not like that.” Vincent replied, smiling.

 

 

“Were there any women?” Fern interrupted.

 

 

“I … already asked him, he said no.” I said, still not averting my gaze.

 

 

“Why, Fern?” asked Talin.

 

 

“Well, they are a matriarchal society, they might have had at least one leading them.”

 

“Well, why don’t we dress you in your Scorpion Queen outfit and color your skin black? We could disguise you as an assassin, and distract them with fear and respect.” I said, trying to calm myself. Fern was clearly upset with the notion.

 

 

“Let’s not speak of that ever again, this is not the subject to speak about.” She paused briefly. “Maybe only fear than respect. They are a twisted race that spent thousands of years underground tortured by the Spider Queen. They don’t feel like we do.”

 

 

“Yes they do… they just… train themselves to push past it.” I answered meekly.

 

 

“And they kill babies.”

 

 

“No they don’t!” I snapped, stopping myself a little too late. I shook my head and then agreed, “They do… matriarchal society… kill the males.” I was shaking again. Talin moved close.

 

 

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t feel comfortable, Chaim, you can stay behind.” I shook my head.

 

 

“I’m not running.” I desperately wanted to leave, hide from this attention. They were so close, did they already know? Vincent knew...

 

 

“The greatest threat that you can face is not the enemy, but what you could have become.” Fern chirped in her dazed and happy manner. She was trying to be helpful. I know this. It was the worst thing she could have said. I am them! my mind screamed as I stared at her in disbelief.

 

 

“We’re wasting time,” Thomas said. After minor banter, Croi turned into a bloodhound, while Fern and Talin and Filge left to shop quickly for supplies. Vincent was told to stay put, as he was being sought after by all sides at the moment, and I rather stood out. Besides, we couldn’t leave poor Vincent alone, could we?

 

 

He continued to stare at me, and I avoided his gaze. “So, why so jittery?” I ignored him. “What’s the matter? Never fought your own kind before?” He said this so smoothly, without care and full of accusation. Had he read my mind? My head snapped quickly so that our eyes met again. I glared, seething, but hid my emotion. It’s what got me into this mess, this stupid ability to feel. Something cultivated by a loving family only to be torn to pieces and burned. A weakness.

 

 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I hissed. He shook his head, seeming to be taken a little aback.

 

 

“... nothing.” I looked away again, and sat on a mildewed crate in silence. He continued to stare, I could see in my peripheral. When I dared glance back, he would avert his eyes. “… I’m sorry.” I was a little surprised but showed nothing. I just looked back to him, expressionless. “It’s been a really bad day.”

 

 

“I know. And it’s not over yet.”

 

 

“I just feel that everyone is against me right now,” he sighed

 

 

“I’m not.” He looked up at me, smirked, and nodded.

 

 

“I know.” I turned the rest of my body so that I was facing him fully. I shrugged and smiled only slightly.

 

 

“We abominations have to stick together… right?” To this, Vincent smiled, and again he nodded.

 

 

 

o0o

 

 

The two of us sat and chatted a bit about various subjects. I avoided anything about family as it would prompt questions I did not want to answer. I was curious about Vincent’s brother, and how the two became so obsessed with the Tear. We joked about the Traveler, and how we were certain that it was really Farlanghan in disguise. I laughed, I smiled, though I felt no such emotion that should follow or precede these reactions.

 

 

I was preparing myself to leave the party.

 

 

 

 

o0o

 

 

The others gradually reconvened; Thomas and Croi had little trouble finding the warehouse with the Kraken symbol on the side. Fern, Talin, Filge, and Motey brought back several sun sticks, scrolls of various magics (including a web spell, which I noticed Fern trying to get a rise out of me with mentioning. I don’t feel anything.), three tanglefoot bags for myself and so on. My babbling on poisons earlier inspired the ladies to buy anti-toxin for each of us. We armed Vincent as best we could with what we had, and set off, handicapped, and surely still unprepared. I couldn’t help but feel that we were being led into a trap. Why would they let Vincent escape? To lead the rest of us back with him for the Tear? Why would they have brought him to the very place that housed the relic if they knew he was searching for it. Perhaps Sicilius was behind it. He had mentioned his distaste for the Ebon Triad, and could very easily have been of them.

 

We marched toward the building. The feeling of dissociation weighed heavily upon me. I felt no fear. There was nothing there. Had I succeeded in severing myself from emotion so easily? Perhaps it’s in the blood…

 

Two large metal doors greeted us. Of course it was locked. Without a word I removed the key and turned it in the lock. It opened easily. Of course it did. Why wouldn’t it? Too easy. Far too easy. We quickly drank the antitoxin, preparing for an ambush of poisoned arrows and darts. I knew we would have no such luck so soon, but did so anyway. (After the event of finding worms within potions, I've made it a point to let any liquid not immediately inspected to pass through tongue and teeth, so as to prevent a nasty surprise later. I hope that tactic actually works and that there are not even smaller parasites to worry about.) We set in, quietly at first, but of course I fully expected either Fern or Vincent to wander off on their own and do something completely dunderheaded. The layout of this warehouse was that of stone; large crates and barrels triangulated the floor. A door was visible to the left, a catwalk trimmed the farthest wall, and another door waited atop that on the right. Keeping an eye and ear out, we made to the catwalk. I produced the Rope of Climb and allowed it to raise. Thomas immediately climbed upward. Whilst he did so I contemplated wasting a cantrip using Message when Thomas started waving madly, pointing to his mouth, waving outward and then pointing to his head. Clearly he had the same idea but for some reason watching him flail about amused me.

 

“I think he wants you to use that spell that you use.” Vincent whispered.

 

“I know,” I said with a trace of disinterest that was not intentional. “I just found it amusing to watch him dance like a mad ape.” I immediately cast, and then kept silent. Vincent whispered that he remembered jumping from the catwalk. Croidhamsa joined Thomas, while Insight jumped along the large crates to join his master. Vincent then climbed. Talin asked if I wanted to go first. I merely smiled, bowing slightly and replied with the ever trite “Ladies first.” To this she smiled, but I felt no warmth. She turned before climbing, and said,

 

“Thank you, by the way, for healing the Gnome. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that.” I only smiled. She climbed, and I followed. Filge remained in the center of the room with Motey, watching the surroundings warily for anything suspicious. And of course, Fern decided that she wanted to explore the room to the left. “For enemies.” My stress level was already on the rise, but I refrained from reasoning with her. She said that there was a lock, and asked for the key. I tossed it down to her, and of course, it did not fit. She tossed it back after my request to do so. Thomas, not waiting for anyone or anything, decided to walk through the door to the right on the catwalk. On either side, almost simultaneously, crashes resounded. I don’t know what Thomas managed to do, or if he even survived, and Fern managed to trigger a pit trap in the floor after successfully opening the door. I heard a pained cry from the Message spell. She was hurt. Vincent leapt from the catwalk and rushed toward the pit. From our position, I could easily see large impaling spikes. I quickly pulled up the Rope of Climb and handed it to Talin as she scrambled for her own rope. She descended as quickly as she could. To our surprise, the large crate nearest us sprouted a strange tentacle, striking Vincent and knocking him also into the pit, past Talin. I knew what these were. Mimics, creatures with the ability to shift their shape into boxes, treasure chests and the like. Of course they’d be here, what with the Doppelgangers. It fit with the whole theme! The barrel opposite the hole also began to thrash violently, pushing Croi as he rushed to help. As an afterthought, I cast Feather Fall upon the Druid. At least the fall would be softened.

 

“We’ve got Mimics,” I muttered to myself, but the rest of the group heard as though I were standing beside them. I looked in time to witness the third large crate spring to life, lashing at Filge and wrapping the tentacle completely around him. He managed to wriggle his hands free enough to shock the creature with a lightning bolt, while Motey tried to bite at it, becoming stuck in the process. Apparently these things are sticky. Talin climbed down the rope and hooked her own into the joint of the trap so as to reach those in the pit. I heard a quick yelp from Fern,

 

“Get away you evil Mimic!”

 

“What’s a Mimic? Fern, stop!” I heard Talin. I sighed, looking into the pit briefly to see Fern swatting at Talin and she trying to heal her.

 

“No, Fern, the large crates and barrels are attacking!” I threw a javelin at the crate that held Filge. Slowly, the group began climbing up the rope and to the ledge. I was focusing more on my necromancer companion at the moment to really acknowledge them. Thomas appeared from the doorway and threw a scorching ray at the beasts. I noticed the tentacle around Filge stop struggling, yet not remove its grip. Motey bit again, and Filge struck at the thing repeatedly. I told Filge that the thing was dead, which made him pause only briefly before proceeding to hack at it in attempt to escape. I watched as, nearly the same time, the two surviving Mimics lashed out. One grabbed hold of Talin. I knew I should have felt that familiar fear for her well being, but… the barrel Mimic at the end of the trap rose a few feet from the floor, approaching Filge and slapping him harshly, then wrapped its tentacle around him. At that moment, he went limp. I could only react. I only processed accomplishing this later -— I leapt from the catwalk, landing thirty feet out and placing myself between it and Filge, unsheathing the Doppelganger’s short sword and slicing down. It was like a second nature, familiar. I had seen my uncles, my father go into this trance before during hunting… The tentacle was sliced away like it was nothing.

 

Immediately it unleashed another, wrapping it about my torso and pulling taut. I started to blank out, only barely aware that Croi positioned himself to hit both Mimics with a single lightning blast. The second one dead, Talin began to struggle to free herself from its grasp. A loud creaking slam and we realized that the trap had reset itself, and Fern was trapped beneath the floor. Three black bears appeared, and I only assumed that Croi had summoned them to fight. They did so, sticking to the creatures every now and then. Vincent leapt down, rushing to the trapped door and pulling it open, then diving for the edge as the floor gave way. Unfortunately one of the bears fell and did not survive such process. Fern reached for the rope and began to climb, thanking Vincent on her way up.

 

Motey, the strong undead familiar that it is, began to pull Filge out of harm’s way as the bears attacked the barrel that held tight to me. Talin climbed to the floor, still held by the dead creature, and rushed toward me. It stopped moving. Croi dispelled the bears and rushed to Filge. To everyone’s surprise, he healed the man.

 

“Thanks Tal—Croi?” he asked confused and a bit dazed from sudden consciousness.

 

 

o0o

 

“Well, now that they know that we’re here…” I began, trying to remove the sticky tentacle. Thomas and Fern began to banter about the need to search the trapped door again, Thomas moving the Rope of Climb so that it tied itself about the handle. My head began to throb in the beginnings of a stress headache. I was beyond impatient with these people and wanted to move forward into what I knew had to be a trap. How could Vincent possibly have escaped so easily and of course to the very location that the Tear lay? And see it so conveniently? They let him go so that he could lead us back. The Triad were probably involved, and Sicilius might be part of it. What better way to get to us? The idiots in the party seem to think that anyone is an ally and trust them with all of their secrets. Eligos could very well be in on it. The metal doors in front slowly creaked open. We all moved quickly to ready ourselves for anything else that could attack.

 

An Elven man entered cautiously, eying us all in turn. He was gaunt, almost dead looking, with slashing scars starting from his brow and down his forehead, skipping past his eye and continuing down his cheek and jaw. It was as though someone had carved at him. His hair was long and black, and about his head orbited an Ion Stone. He entered silently, no footsteps or rustling of cloth heard. Elvenwear, I ascertained.

 

“You said something about traps?” he asked in a tone that struck such a familiarity within me, I nearly gasped.

 

“Are we going to have to fight?” Talin said, almost whining, her expression clearly fed up with doing so. His stance seemed to be a constant state of ready, his eyes boring through her.

 

“Are we?”

 

“How did you know about the traps?” asked Vincent.

 

“I heard you talking,” he responded.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I am Ethios Elninn, you were looking for the Tear, correct?”

 

“How did you—“

 

“I was told you were in need of it by a blond man… he played violin.”

 

“The Traveler!” I exhaled. Vincent gestured with recognition,

 

“So you were who I was supposed to meet!”

 

“How did you know we were here? Did the Traveler tell you?” I asked suspiciously, sizing him up and sensing what motive he could have.

 

“I tracked you here.” He seemed… genuine, professional. His eyes scanned the party, stopping on me for what seemed a full minute, and then resting his gaze on Motey. Motey looked about, shrugging irratatedly and gesturing toward the Elf and hissed, almost as though asking indignantly, “what?”

 

 

 

o0o

 

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....would they even miss me?

 

 

 

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