Of Pacts and Mushrooms

Early in the next morning Kyla shook all of us awake. Quietly she pointed out the orc standing watch at the cave entrance, flanked by a large dire wolf. Nysqwen and Grum confirmed that the pair had already been holding lookout when it was their turn during the night. Grum added that during his watch he also heard the distant cry of what he assumed might be a wyvern, giving us further incentive to get done with our business here quickly, before unwanted eyes would pick us as their next quarry.
Using the remaining shelter of the faintly shimmering dome hiding us from the watch, Kyla gathered her things together and clutching her necklace began communicating with the distant Mantka Riiba. The orc chief was none too pleased with her description of the emblem we had found painted within the cave and quickly urged us to attack without further explanation. But this did not bode well for what we could expect to find within.
I could feel that the magical melody that had brought our shelter into being was about to fade out. Upon notifying the others of this, Grum leaned out of the dome just enough to manipulate the ragged terrain between us and the pair, before running out to draw their attention. The orc immediately uttered a war cry and charged at the dwarf but the wolf seemed more hesitant, sniffing the sharper looking grass wearily. With the dome’s disappearance, Kyla shot a flaming bolt at the orc who now traversed the altered area, leaving behind blood-glistening tracks. Spurred by the newfound possibilities with the tiny hut, I followed an instinct and under my breath muttered some phrases of the disgusting language that I had hoped to never hear again after our run in with Lystramon. I figured, if there was truth to the saying that words could cut deeper than swords, who knew what havoc magically imbued words of that foul tongue were to wreak upon the mind of their target. And in a much more impressive display than what would I have hoped for, the orc silently exploded in a green cloud. Unnerving memories of the last cave we confronted orcs in crept up to me, but at least this time the orc had been on their feet and with a weapon in their hand rather than bound up and defenceless. As I looked back to the cave entrance, the wolf had vanished.
Carefully, we approached the familiar opening once more. The wooden barricade was back in place, and it looked like numerous wolf corpses had been stacked behind it. Someone had clearly been preparing for our inevitable return, I cannot imagine that the war cry the orc had uttered had not alarmed anyone behind these palisades. No light was to be seen from the other side, the braziers had either been extinguished or run out of fuel. Grum once more murmured something into his beard, I believe I caught the words “tall folk”, “weak wood” and “ridiculous” amidst a plethora of curses in both, the common and dwarven tongue before the familiar signs of shape shifting rippled through his form. Yet where previously he had preferred more predatory animals like bears and wolves, he now veered into a huge form with hooved legs and enormous antlers. A giant, beautiful elk snorted angrily at the barricade. Nysqwen and Teynos did not hesitate to mount the creature that promptly charged towards and then through the wooden planks barring our way. Somewhat slower, Kyla and I followed, covering the back of our friends. Teynos already was face to face with the dire wolf while moose-Grum and Nysqwen had stopped right in front of an ogre. Eight orc warriors were scattered throughout the chamber, seemingly led by what we could only surmise might have been a shaman of Gruumsh.
It was a brief but merciless fight. Kyla covered some ground surrounded by her spectral raven protectors, Nysqwen left the ogre for Grum to face off with the orcs of which I tried to enthral a few to lessen the pressure on the others. Under the heavy blows of the huge ogre, Grum was pummelled out of his elk form only to quickly change again, this time into an even larger snake that wound tightly around his foe. Teynos, while bravely standing his ground against the feral beast, was torn to the ground by the razor-like teeth of the wolf yet managed to regain his footing swiftly. The voice of the priest cut through the general noise of battle, speaking demanding words at both Kyla and Grum but I had one more trick up my sleeve. By balancing out the magical reverberations of his command perfectly, I managed to counteract his attempt entirely. And as quickly as it started, it was over. The snake had grappled tightly around the ogre, just enough for Nysqwen to land a fatal blow. Kyla’s spiritual mace caved in the wolf’s skull, allowing Teynos to send two of the orcs to their afterlives. Just as he charged Kyla, Nysqwen intercepted the priest and with one fell swoop of her glaive she took his head off his shoulders. The remaining orcs posed hardly a challenge after that and were quickly defeated.
 
After a brief period of rest following the skirmish, we continued exploring the cave. Taking the tunnel to the right of the main entrance, we entered what appeared to be a mess hall of sorts. A smell of aged meat and a recently extinguished fire permeated from the opening to the south of this room while from another exit further towards the north, the faint noises of regular impacts of steel on wood and a monotone chant could be heard. Always keeping an eye on the other tunnels, we skimmed to the southern chamber which proved to be a small kitchen. Amongst stale bread and hardly edible remains, we found a small golden bracelet, barren of any markings that would have given away a prior owner. With no sign of life apart from a few maggots feasting on rotten flesh, we shifted our attention to the eastern corridor from which the chanting seemed to emerge.
A short corridor opened up into a larger chamber, second so far only to the one at the immediate entrance. From our vantage point, we were looking at the back of a large humanoid stone statue. Leaning against it sat an orc. In the flickering light it was hard to pinpoint what exactly felt so wrong about the shape. But a second glance showed the body to be covered in strange excrescences, lending it a creepily alien aura. A throaty snarl cut through the chanting that subsequently stopped.
Immediately, Grum lifted his staff and bathed the body in silvery moonlight that seemed to eat away at its flesh. Nysqwen answered the snarl with a loud roar of her own, her eyes a shining white as she rushed past me to face whatever else was hiding out of sight. A huge wolf stepped into view, standing tall on stone steps deeper into the room. The malformed orc began rushing towards us. He raised his hand and suddenly all sounds faded into nothingness. Having created such places of utter silence before myself, it was not hard to piece together what he had done. Nysqwen’s glaive slashed deep into his abdomen from whence dripped a viscous liquid that had not much in common with the expected blood. A second orc joined just as Grum’s moonlight and Nysqwen finished off the first one who exploded in a cloud of greenish mist that made everyone wince that came into contact with it. Teynos joined the fray and quickly pummelled the second orc to the ground.
The moment Kyla pushed through the opening she was hit by the axe of an approaching blueish-skinned orog. When I made it around the corner, I saw her clutching her eyes and a larger misshapen orc in the back of the cave who with a grin on his ugly face lowered his extremely white hands. As all of us converged on the enemies scattered throughout the cave, Kyla cried we should heed extreme caution as we were in the temple of Yurtrus, the orcish deity of sickness and maggots. I tried a far too under-utilised trick and began heating up the plate armour of one of the orcs who immediately winced in pain. Occupied by this, I got hit in the chest with a flash of green lightning and ‘ere I could stop myself that hideous language broke from my lips yet again, almost as if a second will was overwriting my own. I heard a bursting right next to me and everything went dark.
 
Darkness. What sweet relief. A brief moment of an empty mind, silence for once. Alas, it did not last long. Violently I felt something bursting in me, a rage that had last burned so bright when faced with a being that had ascended straight from the nine hells. No visions this time around, just anger. A voice crept into my mind, sowing seeds of doubt and distrust. All good things are doomed to fail, betrayal the only constant in whatever relations one was to build. Had I not learned from the last time? Vision came back to me, yet distorted, as if see through a haze of red smoke. There was Nysqwen, her back towards me swinging her weapon. She glanced down just for a second. The haze blurred her features, yet her eyes spoke only of contempt. “You are next” they seemed to promise, underpinned by that sweet hissing voice in my mind that sneered that my so-called friends were already whispering behind my back. Only the strong deserved to live. Alone. And there was only one way to repay such treachery. Suddenly my hand rose, clasping the dagger tightly. My eyes were drawn to her exposed neck as I slowly rose to my feet. My arm lashed out.
What was I doing? In a fraction of a heartbeat the smoke vanished. The voice was gone. Betrayal? I regained control over my muscles just in time to stop my hand mid-swing and let the blade clutter to the ground. Nysqwen looked at me, her eyes still a gleaming white, impossible to read what was going on behind them. I can only imagine the shock if she realised what happened in this moment through her rage. Shock at least was all I was capable of. Where had this voice come from? And this hatred… Thrice cursed blood!
Thankfully, the fight still was raging on around us, leaving no time to properly reflect on what just happened. A gigantic snake that I could only imagine being Grum was winding towards one of the orcs while another felled Kyla. The latter orc was immediately taken care of by Nysqwen and Teynos who both stood protectively over the half-elven woman. Without a second look for my dagger, I quickly joined them and forced one of the reddish potions we had acquired down Kyla’s throat. Coughing she came back to her senses just as Grum crushed the priest of Yurtrus in his deadly hug.
 
With the last of our foes slain, quiet returned to the chamber. Nysqwen did not immediately confront me about what had transpired though I am confident she shot me a few very suspicious glances. As I was in no mindset to begin the awful conversation that was destined to happen in the near future, I began observing our surroundings to determine what we had gotten into. The centre of the room was occupied by a stone sarcophagus and the large statue of a dwarf, ringed by seven further statues. The central figure stood at an anvil in a victorious pose, a smithing hammer in his hand and a finished axe on his anvil. A small set of runes identified him as Garrum Battlehammer, as Grum was able to translate. The other statues depicted two broad-shouldered dwarves in full plate armour by the name of Adrik and Ulfgar, two smiths called Rurig and Bruenor, tordek and Brottor, two miners and the jeweller Kildrak. Their carved faces displayed stern yet pleased looks, as if having accomplished a great feat.
At one side of the chamber a statue of the main dwarven deity Moradin stood by an equally stone altar. The latter had been desecrated with blood that had been smeared all over. Yurtrus’s mark had been left there, potentially to repurpose the site. Teeth of a bugbear and stings of a manticor had been laid out on the stone plate. After asking Nysqwen for her hand axe, Kyla cut away the pale-white skin gloves that had covered the orc priest’s hands. With an expressionless look she carefully placed the elven skin on the altar while throwing the body heedlessly into one corner. Radiant flames flickered between her fingers as she set fire to the small pile, whispering a low prayer in the elven tongue. Although I did not understand any of her phrases, the mourning in her voice was plain. The flames began to extend from the small pile of ash that had formed and crept along every smear that defiled the dwarven sanctuary. Streaks of blood turned black and then crumbled into nothingness, leaving behind smooth stone. Yet, at one place in the slab carvings became visible. Old dwarven runes, only one of which I recognised: Father. But Grum was quick to translate:
“Passed from father to son
and shared between brothers.
Its importance is unquestioned,
though it is used more by others”
A riddle! After all this strenuous adventuring, hiking and fighting, finally something for the more astute of mind. I am sure, had Archie been here he would have appreciated this unexpected turn of events. Nonetheless, it was on us to make sense of the handful of lines. And sure enough, we quickly agreed that the only viable solution here would be “A Name”. And which better name to pick than that of the displayed hero of this chamber? Grum took a firm stance in front of the altar and with a booming voice pronounced “Battlehammer”. Suddenly, the wall behind the altar vanished into the floor.
Behind, we could see a dark corridor, covered in still water. This room was not on our map! We must have stumbled upon something rather important and secretive here. After collecting our nerves and looking after our wounds briefly, we entered into this new tunnel.
It followed a shallow stream of water for a few paces before opening up into a small chamber. Upon us entering, fires came to life in stone braziers along the sides and framing a further statue of Moradin of dwarven make. Yet the strangest sensation was an all-encompassing calm that suddenly took hold in my mind. Where we were just fighting for our lives, running from adventure to adventure and being haunted by much deeper lingering demons, here all of that seemed to melt away. Gone were the constant worries for friends and families, pushed aside the voices that had broken through but an hour earlier and it all was replaced by a stillness as no one of us ever had known.
Grum wondered aloud, what might have been the reason for this room to be as hidden as it was. These inner sanctums could be found frequently in dwarven structures, especially old ones such as these. However, usually they would be more exposed as they would be integral to many aspects of their tradition. But given the recent new occupants this might have stemmed from a time of more precaution. Indeed, the fact that the feeling of the divine was as prevalent as we experienced now probably meant that this room had not been stepped into in a long time, even measured at a dwarven life span.
Closer inspection led to the discovery of a small wooden chest at the base of the statue that Grum proclaimed to be a gift by the gods and thus opened without giving it a second look. Inside, we immediately were greeted by the glimmer of a huge pile of coins on top of which was placed a leather pouch lying face down. Grum picked it up to see if anything else was inside, but his entire arm vanished in the wineskin-sized bag. Curiously, he followed with his head – and suddenly vanished from sight! The bag fell to the ground, sounding as empty as ever. Kyla reacted the quickest and upended the bag. Grum tumbled out, head over heels and gasping for air. Apparently, he had fallen into the bag that, finding out that it was much larger on the inside than the outside let on. I had heard about these fabled bags of holding before that could fit hundreds of pounds without weighing down its bearer one bit. This would come in handy for any future exploits we might be up to!
What a strange place to gain aid from a god that hardly anyone of us knew. They surely worked in mysterious ways. But we certainly were not ones to take such boons for granted and thus each of us placed an item in the chest to be a light for the next lost souls in this forsaken mine. To that end, on a small piece of parchment I wrote a note:
“Long and grim your journey may be
Many dangers you’ve conquered, many more you will see
Know ye that through darkness a light shall prevail
May your foot stride on true
May your quest never fail”
Teynos added a few of the most treasured mushrooms he had come across, while Kyla emptied her personal coin purse. Grum, knowing what fellow dwarves would be seeking here added a side flask with some fine spirit of his own make. Nysqwen followed his example and gave a bottle of her favoured wine and for good measure threw in a jug of mayonnaise that Archie had prepared several weeks ago. To be fair, whatever was inside now most likely was far less enjoyable than mayonnaise, but it is the thought and the gesture that counts I would say. And I am sure, Nysqwen had naught but the best intentions. We took the opportunity to rest up for a bit before we faced the further dangers of the cave in the protective shadow of Moradin’s statue.
 
Strengthened and still imbued with a supernatural prowess after this rest, we continued our march through the ancient tunnels north of the chamber with the statues. Soon, the tunnel gave way to a further cave where two orcs were being trained by an orog. Not keen on another avoidable bloody confrontation, Teynos stepped forth, holding up the head of the main priest and spoke to the warriors in their own harsh tongue. One of the orcs left through another tunnel only to return shortly after with a high priest of Gruumsh and a terribly malformed abomination. Later, Teynos would explain to us that this was a Tanaruk, an orc that had been touched by demonic magic through a pact of an orc chief with a demon lord. They were used to cement power but usually would eventually overthrow their former masters to lead through their own strength. Therefore, they mostly would be seen as last-ditch efforts of survival rather than freely given in to. They were accompanied by several orcs and also a hand full of orogs and a dire wolf.
Teynos and the creature exchanged some grunts ending in the latter turning to his followers and shouting something in a terrible voice that alone was enough to chill the blood in our veins. He shoved past us towards the cave of the main entrance, sneering almost disgusted when seeing Kyla and Nysqwen. Teynos mentioned something about a duel to cement who was worthy of leaving the cave alive and signalled us to follow him to the main entrance. His bravery surely cannot be overstated, given the impression that this Tanaruk had on all of us. The idea of facing off against it in single combat seemed suicidal at best yet Teynos had not hesitated for a moment before putting himself in harm’s way, keeping us out of it in the process. Still, we could not just sit idle at the side while our friend was torn to bits! Upon arriving in the chamber of the duel, I therefore stepped forth towards the Tanaruk, calling to his honour to make the fight more fair, else he would prove nothing with this fight against a tired warrior that had been in several skirmishes already while he himself was still fresh as the morning. Not sure if such a creature could be bargained with at all, I made sure to enhance each word with a bit of magical essence, as Anataea had shown me so impressively to make the creature listen to what I had to say. It seemed to briefly contemplate just ripping my head straight off as it regarded me with the most dismissive look I have ever encountered, but it eventually agreed that Teynos could pick one ally to fight at his side. He promised that he still would wipe the floor with both of them and then feast on the rest of us for dinner.
The three combatants stepped into the centre of the chamber, the orcs and us forming almost a ring around them. The priest murmured something and suddenly the braziers light dimmed. While he was occupied, I took out my lyra to underpin this duel with some fitting music but started off by rapidly plucking one of the strings, imbuing every note with magical essence. In response, Teynos movements increased drastically as he took measure of his opponent. Then, on a sign by the priest, the fight began.
Teynos immediately closed the gap to the Tanaruk, staff and fists flying almost too quick for the naked eye to see. I counted five blows before the huge creature was able to retaliate even once with a savage bite towards our friend’s shoulder. Grum shifted shapes once more and started winding his way towards the fighting couple as a giant snake. Never before had I seen Teynos fight with such ferocity while at the same time dodging most of the incoming blows. This orc certainly is more than what can be seen on first glance. Even if he sometimes hits the boards almost as quickly as I do, there was no fear in taking on an opponent that initially seemed to have every advantage on his side. Stepping in between his (hopefully) friends and a threat like this is what makes this group come together so strongly and he was more than pulling his weight in this moment.
Very quickly, both Teynos and his foe looked extremely beaten up, after all if he was hit, Teynos seemed to take a lot from a single blow. Were it not for his animal form, Grum might have fared a similar fate. Nysqwen, Kyla and I were exchanging excited glances in seeing the Tanaruk in such distress yet before the fight could come to an end, the figure suddenly shouted something frantic in his own language which caused the orcs and the wolf to rush in towards Grum and chop away at his body! The orogs seemed almost as phased by this as the rest of us but one of them joined in and the priest conjured a viciously glowing red spear right next to Teynos. Glancing at the orogs immediately made clear that while they did not approve of the cowardice of their leader, they would not tolerate our interference with the fight and then also join. Thus, I called out to the orcs that they should be ashamed before the eyes of their gods to take part in such spinelessness and let off of the fighting party. The orcs seemed to be not impressed by this, fear in their eyes each time they glanced at the Tanaruk. The priest on the other hand at least took pause and seemed to contemplate my words.
At this moment, the malformed orc leader let out a thunderous war cry as Teynos body fell to the ground. For a fraction of a heartbeat, the fighting around them seemed to stop while our hearts plummeted through our stomachs with the realisation of what that would mean. Then, before he really could hit the floor, Teynos opened his eyes again. They were glowing almost as fiercely as Nysqwen’s when she was on the height of her combat rage as something primal awakened in the orc. He rose to his feet with a ferocious scream. Eyes wide with fear, the Tanaruk attempted to block the fist that was headed to his throat, but the hastened Teynos pushed straight through and almost beheaded the creature with this final blow.
The wolf uttered a terrible wailing howl and the one orog that had joined the fight tried to close in with Teynos and finish him of in return. But before he made it all the way over, the spectral spear of the priest impaled him in his stride and killed him outright. The wolf still managed to tear down Teynos, ‘ere the rest of us could close in and slay the beast in turn. Grum had in the meantime taken care of most of the orcs. Kyla now strode over to Teynos to help him back up on his feet, her hands alight with healing energy.
Teynos got back up on his feet and assumed a victorious pose. He shouted something in orcish after which the priest made his way over to him. We eased the grip on our weapon handles when the orc headbutted our friend and took a knee before him. The orogs followed suit. The priest explained that Their party had come here originally on behest of Mantka Riiba to form an outpost towards the south. Quickly however, Yurtrus had sent the Tanaruk to guide them to new glory and if a god called, who were they to question his will? They recognized now though that the Tanaruk had now failed his test and they would accept our superiority. Teynos replied that it was time for them to return to Neverwinter and search for redemption with their leader. Furthermore, they should spread the tale of Teynos the Hardly Clad and his astounding victory over the champion of Yurtrus himself. Amusingly, he completely glossed over the fact that Grum joined their combat in the first place, but we were in no place to argue against his impressive display of skill.
After an initial displeased murmur, the orogs and the priest picked some provisions from the kitchen, before heading off north on the journey towards Neverwinter. In the meantime, we continued our explorations now less careful, as we were convinced, we had conquered the greatest challenge this cave would hold for us. Amongst the beddings of the former occupants, we found only scraps, but happened across a locked chest that I sat down with. My attempts on picking the lock ultimately were met with success but that came with a small poisonous arrow that I just about managed to avoid the brunt of as I had been too careless in my post-battle high. Inside, we found two of the already familiar potions of healing next to one additional flask that contained an orange liquid with some more crimson swirls. Grum had in all his research for remedies come across a huge variety of potions and knew that this particular one would give its user a fiery breath for a short amount of time. Apart from the concoctions the chest was filled with some coin, a large citril and a bone statue of a dwarf. With these findings secured in the newly found bag, we decided to take a small breather before we would explore the remainder of the cave.
 
The next section of the cave system was barricaded by wooden palisades against something coming towards us. This did not bode well for what we might encounter as prior denizens had deemed it necessary to protect themselves against what lurks in the shadow. After following a lightless tunnel for a while, the sound of flowing water hit our ears coming from a cave that must have been to our left, if our map was correct. Indeed, turning left at the next intersection led us into a larger cave where some daylight fell through openings in the ceiling. A small stream of water gently flowed across the far side of the cavern and spilled into a pond at the southern side. Alongside its bank stood a few humongous brown-blueish mushrooms. Teynos immediately ran towards them but as soon as he touched their trunks he recoiled as if bitten by a wild animal. His hand up to the elbow had turned blue as if suffering from severe frostbite. Nysqwen quickly rushed to see if he was okay yet as soon as the torch she carried came close to the mushrooms, that upon closer inspection looked more like a complex network of mycelium than actual fruit bodies, the fungus spread towards her forcing both her and Teynos to retreat further. Grum had heard about this vicious plant called brown mold that thrived in environments where it could draw the heat from other living or dead things.
Giving a wide berth to the mold, we closed in on the stream of flowing water. Getting closer, we could see a slight glow coming from within the stream. The bottom of this bed of crystal-clear water was covered with some algae or similar plant growth that emitted a green light which was reflected at several surfaces and disturbed by small waves that formed at the water surface. It was a beautiful display of nature’s brilliance and for a short while, the soft pattering of the water was the only sound to be heard. I could not help myself but had to recite a verse from a poem by the great Mo’rean Magnus, a man who truly loved his craft:
“Bioluminescent cities light up
Underneath a frozen sky
Sing and light the austral night up
Rise to scrape the ice up high”
Of course, this was quite removed from its original context and not many people would be aware of the eldritch horrors that his work describes. Yet was this not what made the subject so intriguing, marrying horrid visions and ideas with romanticised beautiful descriptions? Still, I stopped myself before quoting the next lines to save my friends the images they would involuntarily conjure.
 
After a brief moment we left the light-filled cave and ventured into darkness yet again. In a further chamber that appeared to once have served as a smithy, we came across a few giant spiders that we managed to slay without too much of an issue although Teynos, tired from his last fight was close to succumb to their onslaught for a period. Yet, with our combined efforts we pulled through and could take a look around afterwards. The centre of the cave was occupied by old anvils, coal pits and bellows, a few carts were toppled over besides their respective tracks but already quite deteriorated and seemed to have not been used in a long time. The side opposite the entrance opened into a large pit, where after a few steps everything was swallowed by absolute darkness. Along the walls some traces of more polished and reflective surfaces glimmered in the light of Nysqwen’s torch and one of the chests in the area contained more purified copper explaining what the dwarves of old had been after.
Continuing our path to the next chamber, the remnants of spider webs slowly gave way to thick layers of dust and bare rock. Spread out in the chamber we were ambushed by Gricks who this time managed to pummel Teynos into unconsciousness before Nysqwen killed most of them with our help and Kyla could once more bring the half-orc back onto his feet. This chamber might once have been living quarters of workers, the chests scattered amongst the room still contained a number of personal items and stuff that made clear that the mine had not been given up by choice. Amongst all the bits and pieces we found some more coin, a few magical-looking bolts, a spell scroll that allowed to open a portal in reality itself to shift one’s position for some distance which, given the predicaments we found ourselves in frequently, might come in rather handy. Lastly, we discovered a small leather pouch with a few oddly coloured beans inside. Grum informed us that these were likely magical in essence and could be planted to grant unique effects within a short time. Some of those however could be quite detrimental so one needed to be careful with their timing and should be prepared for anything.
 
With the entirety of the cave being explored, we gathered our thoughts to contemplate what we should do next, once more in the secret chamber at the foot of the old statue. Curiously enough, it felt far more mundane at this visit, still peaceful but less spiritual. And the chest that we had emptied and then refilled was not to be seen. Whatever ancient power slept in this site was not one for an endless stream of gifts but seemed more selective in its favours. When we had recovered a bit, we therefore continued our conversation while heading off towards Phandalin. We agreed that probing the dragon that was tormenting Thundertree was likely the best next target. All we knew so far was that green dragons were known for their cunning, mischievous lies, more planners than doers. Their intentions were unanimously ill, and their poisoned breath could kill multiple adventurers at once. Not the best forecast but then again, in our excitement of having survived this cave we figured we might stand a chance if Reidoth was willing to share some of his information as well.
Then, obviously we had the offers of going to neighbouring larger cities or the underdark on behest of Lord Neverember or following Mantka Riiba’s call to be heralds of orcish peace. Finally, Nysqwen had for the first time in many years heard anything about the whereabouts of her brother from the black spider and was understandably excited to pursue these traces. Personally, I still was no closer to finding out anything about Camp and the others, maybe the thing with the underdark had anything to do with their disappearance?
We spent last night in the safety that now was found in the dome that I was able to conjure up with the same soft melody, albeit one I still am aiming to refine. It seems… not quite finished yet. A few hours ago, we reached Phandalin and told our stories in the Stonehill Inn much to the entertainment of him, his wife and a good number of patrons that had come together, apparently the town was becoming more and more alive with the rediscovery of Gundren’s mine. Amidst all the merriment, Nysqwen asked me to show the audience my little party trick, “the one with the black eyes”. Startled, I denied the request, pretending I did not know what she meant and ensuring to the surrounding people that sometimes she could get some strange ideas with a sufficient amount of alcohol infusion. Yet now that I am sitting here on the roof of the tavern under the starlit sky it still haunts me. I saw the flash of incomprehension and slight justified anger at my rudeness in her eyes even if like a true proof of character she let it be and did not push further. I must tell her. Her at least, she deserves not this cold armour I have clad myself in.