Into the Maw!

Alas, we find our hero somewhat diminished since last we saw him. The dance had ended, the wedding was over, and even though he was now free to do what he wanted any old time, his recent trials had engraved him with scars both physical and spiritual. An uncharacteristic Gloom had settled upon his mind, from which he thought to save Steingrimur by sending him home to his cottage in the forest.
 
But as he watched the back of the gentle werebear recede through the crowds, the Gloom intensified to an unbearable degree, its pall deepening to the blackness of pitch, and our hero realized that no true Knight was complete without his faithful Squire… and also the road to Riverbend was long and perilous and wouldn't it be better if he kept an eye on the big lug for his own safety and no other reason? He was worried about Steingrimur, that was all. So after a fraught few minutes of separation, the BCFs were joyfully reunited.
 
Although more accustomed to delivering bloody, fluty justice than sleuthing, Squoan “the Serendipitous Riddlefist” Kwikzot threw himself into the task at hand with as much enthusiasm as his still traumatized soul could muster. Together with his Improbable Irregulars, he scoured the scene of a Grocer's recent murder for hints as to the Hunger's whereabouts or intentions, and while his band of Clue Searching Investigators did not turn up anything of note, they did – in the course of this and the following investigation – become slightly more proficient in loitering, both innocuously and menacingly, as the situation dictated.
 
They had more luck at their next crime scene, a Tinker's shop, where – after solving the Conundrum of the Coal Chute – our hero discovered that the proprietor of the establishment, one Filere Gonegan, had been hosting secret meetings in his basement. He also found a strange stamp engraved with a ring of thorns. Unsure of what to make of these developments, he sought out the one fellow he knew in Orham who might have knowledge of its underbelly and secret workings: Ralafiss.
 
They ambushed the “Priest” of Resh in one of his customary drinking holes and Squoan took him to task for having uncovered nothing of note or value in his purported attempts to find a cure for the ensorcelled Valethanna, relenting only when it became clear that the Smuggler had no conscience to which he could appeal. Changing tack, he promised never again to bother the degenerate with pointless attempts to rouse his better nature, no more to ruffle the pond-scummed surface of his equanimity with the clarion call of higher ideals, if he would but point them in the direction of the Hunger, or at least the one who had fashioned the stamp. Ralafiss directed them to speak with a Dwarven smith named Baern Diamondblade in the Bands, and with that (somewhat tipsily, it must be said, as he had perhaps been over-indulging a tad since his release from prison, but considering how thoroughly his world had been rocked and his preconceptions upended, not to mention the weighty geas recently placed upon his slight if shapely shoulders, is it really fair to pass judgment?) Squoan turned on his heel and left that den of iniquity, never to see Ralafiss again.
 
I repeat: never to see Ralafiss again.
 
Baern proved to be singularly unhelpful at first, but after the CSI wore down his defences with some strategic loitering he grudgingly revealed that a group of possible mages had been known to meet in a heavily guarded mine known ominously as the Wolf's Maw (bwaaam). Our hero committed a rare tactical blunder at this point by asking for Laird Granger's help in gaining entrance to the Maw. The conversation between the two grew heated and Squoan let slip that there was a slim – the slimmest – possibility that mages might be meeting in its tunnels, whereupon Hethor “Anger Issues” Granger suggested that instead of letting the CSI investigate the place, he should assign more Hunters to look for suspicious activity. Squoan stalked out with a twirl of his coat, the “RIDDLEFIST” in letters of golden lightning on his back no doubt signalling his fury to the chastened laird by reflecting the torchlight in a series of angry, coded flashes, although it should be mentioned that our hero didn't look over his shoulder to ascertain that the message had been received.
 
So it was now left to Squoan & Co. to infiltrate the even-more-heavily-guarded-than-previously Wolf's Maw on their own. Luckily, inspiration struck, and the Serendipitous Riddlefist devised a plan whereby Steingrimur would pose as a worker and smuggle him into its depths disguised as a sack of torches, although this bare-bones description simply cannot do justice to the fiendish intricacy of the plan and all of its various interlocking fallback clauses. The Ingenious Scheme went off without a hitch, thanks in no small part to Steingrimur's surprising knack for improvisation, and our hero was free to explore the hellish, seething caverns of the Maw – simultaneously vast and warren-like – without notable hindrance.
 
One of his most surprising discoveries was tangential to his investigation but still worth remarking upon: the Gnomes of Orham (all of whom appeared to be miners, for this was the first time our hero had encountered any of his kind in these benighted Human lands) were racist in regard to the arcane. This seemed a logical fallacy, to put it mildly, but at least it left Squoan feeling slightly less guilty about the pogrom against Gnomes which he may or may not have set in motion with his indiscretions while under torture.
 
His shrewd information gathering led him to a collapsing, cordoned area of the mines wherein he found signs of a recent meeting and a Mysterious Hatch. Descending, he came upon a Human with some magical aptitude named Hayn Enterett, a pleasant enough fellow if one disregarded the occasional threat of murder, which Squoan graciously did, being a debonair Gnome of the World who understood that Stress gets the better of all of us from time to time. Hayn was not overly impressed by the verisimilitude of our hero's extemporized cover story, so, to avoid escalating an already tense situation, and in the hope that it might lead to a fuller understanding of the Hunger's true nature, Squoan decided to level with him, confiding that he'd been released from prison at the behest of the Ruby Queen herself and charged with the task of ferreting out the Hunger so that they might be Dealt With. Squoan made it clear that for the moment his loyalties were flexible, since the benefit of hindsight had given rise to certain suspicions that the Ruby Queen had not been entirely forthright with him and, furthermore, Hayn himself appeared to be a perfectly decent fellow and if he were a representative sample of what the Hunger had to offer, why, it seemed clear that they were being unjustly maligned in the court of public opinion.
 
Somewhat overwhelmed by Squoan's lucid verbosity, Hayn deferred the decision to murder him to some indeterminate future date, instead directing him to seek out Kornan Rinsae, a representative of the Hunger who happened to make his camp near the scene of our hero's great victory over the Ettin. With that knowledge in his possession, the Riddlefist bid his adieus… only to realize that escaping the mines undetected would prove difficult until the next shift change and, moreover, it had been a full day since he'd last slept and he was bone tired. But Hayn was both a Scholar and a Gentleman, for he had no objections to Squoan unfurling his bedroll in a corner of his hidey-hole to catch a few winks until the evening. Upon awakening, if our hero hadn't left his coat with Orin to keep it from getting dirty, the starry sequins on his back would no doubt have glinted to Hayn the message that he was All Right in Squoan's appraisal, as he took leave of the Underground Magician's hospitality once and for all.
 
Departing the Wolf's Maw, Squoan got a less bag-obstructed view of its entrance than when he had first arrived and was duly impressed by its imposing stone grandeur, its jagged wolfishness. “Very Metal,” he mused admiringly.
 
After reuniting with his companions, Squoan led them out of Orham through the West Gate where they camped near a peaceful waterfall to decompress from their recent exploits, despite Orin's disapproval of everything Outdoors, the expression of which was the first serious blow dealt to Squoan's theory concerning the Tween's divine nature.
 
In the morning they continued on toward the Hunger encampment. En route, hearing something rustling in the undergrowth, Squoan charged into the forest where he was stunned to come upon, of all people, Sarett Umett! Resisting an undignified urge to hug his former travelling companion and fellow bodyguard to royalty, he instead besieged him with questions, to which Sarett replied that he had been out and about looking for Kornan Rinsae earlier, hoping that the Hunger could be of aid in curtailing the Serendipitous Riddlefist's imprisonment, but then, hearing that Squoan had been freed, he'd transitioned to safeguarding the Maja's carriage as it left Orham, to ensure that nothing befell his sister Val. This topic of conversation led him to offer his heartfelt – if awkward – thanks to Squoan for taking care of Val, to which the occasionally mischievous Gnome couldn't help but reply by asking if he was Locaryn in disguise, frustrating Sarett to no end and probably discouraging all future attempts at emotional honesty. And thus normality was restored.
 
Back at full strength – give or take a Val – Squoan & Co. came upon the Hunger encampment to find it deserted, if in better repair than when they'd seen it last. Steingrimur picked up the scent of men in armour approaching and the CSI hid among the trees to spy upon the interlopers. Three “Crownsguard” with insignia askew came into view. Squoan sought to gauge their intent by placing the illusion of a Gnome, mid-micturition, in their path. They greeted the illusion with an arrow through the back of its head. “What devils, to respond so disproportionately to a Gnome harmlessly whizzing!” the Serendipitous Riddlefist thought, before crying, “En garde, boon companions! Battle is upon us!”