Socaller Fronte Arc Part 2

After uncovering that Newheart, Valred's mentor, was behind the attack on the Crucible of Champions and the theft of the orb, the party turned to Valred for more information. While clearly distressed and reluctant to talk, Valred revealed that Newheart resided in a dungeon he had heavily modified; a foreboding cave located one day north of Socaller's Fronte. The party noted the location and began preparing for what they assumed to be a dangerous encounter.

Baljor's Clone & Collect

Before setting off, the party decided to gather supplies to ensure they were adequately prepared. Their funds were limited after the events of the tournament, but they made their way to a magical shop called "Baljor's Clone & Collect."
The shop was run by Baljor, a firbolg towering at 10'5". His gentle demeanor and respectful attitude immediately won over the party, even softening the typically abrasive Lezeke, though Lezeke still showed flashes of his aggression. Baljor's patient and kind approach charmed everyone, and his willingness to assist, despite the party’s lack of substantial funds, further endeared him to them.
Baljor provided the group with what little they could afford, selling health potions and other minor magical items at a discount, ensuring the party was as equipped as possible for the challenges ahead. As they left his shop, the party made a mental note of Baljor's hospitality, promising themselves that they would return if they survived their journey.

Road to Newheart's Dungeon

During the journey to Newheart's Dungeon, the party engaged in occasional conversation, with Eli taking the opportunity to question Valred about how they should approach Newheart. Valred expressed his preference for a diplomatic approach, though he admitted that he doubted it would go as smoothly as he hoped. Louis, with his usual straightforward questioning, interrupted, asking why would Valred want to help if he's sure this would go bad. Valred brushes off the question with a vague response about it being an act of kindness or a duty to do the right thing.
Throughout the trip, the party witnessed Valred’s instability firsthand. He frequently switched tones mid-conversation from calm to angry and scolding, muttering to himself or suddenly zoning out as if he were no longer present in the moment. His behavior slowly made Eli increasingly skeptical of his true intentions. Watching Valred closely, Eli began to wonder if the cleric was lying about his motives or worse, hiding something far more dangerous. Still, Eli kept these suspicions to himself, unsure how to confront Valred.

Newheart's Dungeon

When the party finally arrived at the location Valred had described, they were surprised to find that the entrance appeared to be an normal looking cave. Unlike the grand, ominous fortresses or sprawling magical ruins they had expected, the cave’s subtlety and simplicity seemed rational now that they think about it. It was clear that he preferred to operate out of sight.
As the party ventured into the dungeon, their footsteps echoed in the stillness. The silence was suddenly shattered by a booming voice, cold and mocking, reverberating through the cavern. It was Newheart, addressing Valred directly, interrogating Valred on why he would bring guests over at such a crucial time. Valred, visibly shaken but trying to remain composed, called back that they only want the orb "temporarily".
However, Newheart ignored Valred’s plea entirely. Instead, his voice grew sharper, cutting through the cavern like a blade. “If your friends wish to speak to me, they must first prove their worth. Let’s see how they fare in my little game.” The lights were snuffed, and in an instant, the party found themselves teleported deeper into the dungeon. The environment around them changed drastically the stone walls were now jagged and unnatural. The air was thicker, almost suffocating.

Tiled Puzzle

The party entered the first challenge of Newheart’s Dungeon, a tiled room littered with danger. Each tile was either trapped or safe, and navigating the room required careful planning. The room was large and imposing, with book lecterns scattered around its edges and a gate at the far end. As the party discussed how to approach the room, Lezeke, never one for subtlety, decided to forge ahead without waiting for a plan. His strategy was simple: tank through the damage and brute-force his way to the gate. As expected, several tiles triggered traps along the way, bombarding him with flames, darts, and bursts of acid. Though battered and bruised and perhaps more idiotic, Lezeke managed to reach the gate, where he discovered an inscription written in multiple languages.
The inscription described how to pull the levers in the correct order to open the gate. However, the catch was that the instructions were written in different languages, including Common, Draconic, Elvish, and others. While Lezeke could understand Common and Draconic, the other languages were unfamiliar, leaving parts of the instructions unreadable.
The party spent a good half hour trying to piece together the puzzle. While they attempted to decipher the languages and experiment with different combinations of the levers, they also examined the book lecterns scattered around the room. Each lectern contained passages written in a single language, but none of them directly explained the solution. Instead, they were translations of the instructions written on the gate. However, the party failed to connect this detail initially, focusing instead on brute-forcing the puzzle by trial and error.
Using his Eye of the Runekeeper (an invocation that allows him to read all written languages), Eli examined the inscription on the gate and effortlessly deciphered the instructions. With the correct lever order now clear, the party bypassed the need for any further translation or trial and error. When Valred witnessed Eli reading the inscription so effortlessly, his curiosity was piqued. He asked how Eli knew every language, clearly fascinated by the warlock’s ability. Eli, ever secretive, deflected the question with a vague response, claiming his eyes were gifted. While Valred seemed to accept this explanation on the surface, his intense interest hinted that he wasn’t entirely convinced.

The Humanoid

The party ventured into the next room of Newheart’s Dungeon, where they encountered a monument standing ominously at the center of the chamber. The structure consisted of a stone coffin, carved with grotesque and abstract designs, sitting atop a raised pedestal. The coffin had a netted opening at its center—thin, jagged bars of iron. Faint light pulsed from the cracks in the stone.
Etched into the stone above the coffin were words written in Common:
"The key is found within your head, Use the key to paint me red. Be aware of what you spurn, For what you give shall be returned." ~The Monument
The room was silent save for the faint hum of magic emanating from the monument. The party cautiously approached, debating the meaning of the riddle. They deduced that the monument was asking for blood—their "key"—to activate it. Reluctantly, they prepared to give the offering. Lezeke, Louis, and Eli, after brief hesitation, each stepped forward and offered their blood into the netted opening. As their blood dripped through the bars, the crimson light within the coffin intensified, and the room began to tremble. A guttural, otherworldly groan resonated from the monument.
Then, the coffin lid shifted, sliding open as a figure rose from within.
The entity that emerged from the coffin was nothing short of horrifying. At first, it was a plain humanoid, lacking any distinctive features—no face, no genitalia, no hair, nothing. Its skin was smooth and gray, almost clay-like in texture. It was as if the creature was unfinished, waiting to be shaped. As the party watched in stunned silence, the creature began to morph, taking on features that reflected a grotesque combination of Eli, Lezeke, and Louis. It grew furred patches like Louis’s werewolf form, scaled areas like Lezeke’s draconic skin, and facial features resembling Eli. The monster stood tall, wielding sharp claws, enhanced strength, and terrifying speed.
The fight against the creature was the most grueling challenge the party had faced yet. It possessed impressive strength, resistance to most attacks, and a seemingly unpredictable nature, adapting its fighting style to mirror its creators. The battle quickly devolved into chaos:

• Lezeke charged headfirst into the fight but was repeatedly overwhelmed by the creature’s ferocity. He was downed multiple times, forcing Augustus to revive him mid-battle continously.
• Eli, while landing a few significant shots with his revolver, was ultimately caught off-guard by the creature’s speed. It lunged at him, knocking him unconscious before the party could pull him away.
• Tharmur (Augustus) resorted to punching the creature when too scared to spend any more slots, desperate to contribute despite his lack of physical prowess. Unfortunately, his fists proved useless against the creature’s resistances, leaving him frustrated and vulnerable.
• Louis, in his werewolf form, dealt the most damage. His ferocity and resilience allowed him to keep the creature occupied, but even he struggled to withstand its onslaught.
• Dave, with extreme bad luck, missed every shot in the fight and even broke his crossbow down the line and just resorted to hiding.

As the battle reached its climax, the party was battered and bloodied. The creature loomed over Lezeke, preparing to deliver a final blow, when Louis lunged at it. With a snarl, he sank his teeth into the creature’s neck and ripped it apart, tossing it to the wall as he impaled it with both his claws. Louis proceeded to rip the the humanoid in half just for good; the monument’s glow dimmed measure and the gate opened.

The Room

After hours of navigating Newheart's Dungeon, the party came to a fork in the path: left or right. Valred, visibly uneasy, stated that the exit was to the left, while Newheart's room was to the right. The party, driven by their need for the orb to clear Lezeke's name, unanimously agreed to head right despite Valred's growing discomfort. As they walked toward Newheart’s room, Valred’s anxiety began to surface more prominently. He hesitated, then stopped entirely, urging the group to reconsider. "Maybe we should just leave," he pleaded, his voice laced with genuine fear. "I don’t want you to die in here." The party brushed off his concerns. Lezeke, in his usual brash manner, insisted that they needed the orb, no matter the cost. The others, agreeing with Lezeke, dismissed Valred’s suggestion that there might be another way. Reluctantly, Valred sighed and continued alongside them, his apprehension growing heavier with each step.
The party entered a large, lavishly decorated chamber, a contrast to the rest of the dungeon’s cold and foreboding halls. The room was immaculately organized and felt more like a scholar’s study than a villain’s lair. The walls were lined with ornate bookshelves packed with volumes of tomes, journals, and scrolls. Several workbenches were scattered throughout the room, each covered with blueprints, diagrams, and strange arcane tools. Glass beakers, bubbling with unknown substances, sat atop one of the tables, and faint magical sigils glowed dimly in the room’s corners.
Dave, inspected the room for traps or signs of hidden dangers. His eyes fell on the doorway to the room, which was peculiar—it had no visible door, just an open archway. Above the doorway, Dave noticed a thin slit running along the top frame, almost as if something could slide into it. The mechanism seemed foreign, advanced, and entirely out of place for the world they knew.
As the party searched the room for the orb, Lezeke spotted a large chest tucked into one corner. His eyes lit up declaring that it had to hold something valuable. Despite his eagerness to open it himself, Dave insisted on taking the lead. Unfortunately, Dave’s luck ran dry. Rolling a natural 1, his lockpick snapped in the chest’s lock. Frustrated but determined, Dave attempted another try—only to break a second lockpick. The sound of snapping metal echoed through the room as the party collectively sighed in frustration. Valred, visibly tense, tried to convince the group to leave the chest alone, urging them to move on. But Lezeke’s temper got the better of him. Ignoring Valred’s protests, he opted to smash the chest open, forcing it apart with brute strength. Thankfully, nothing exploded or triggered, but the chest’s contents were disappointing: gold coins and research papers, nothing resembling the orb they sought. Valred, growing more agitated, repeated his plea. “There’s nothing here! Let’s leave!"
Eli, ever the perceptive one, claimed that the orb must be deeper inside, past this room. He pointed to a door leading further into the dungeon, insisting they should press on. Valred, however, cut him off sharply, his voice shaking as he begged them to leave the room. “It’s not safe. I’ll stay here if you insist on going,” Valred said, his voice trembling. The party argued back, especially Eli, who began to grow suspicious of Valred’s increasingly erratic behavior. Valred pleaded again, "You don’t have to do this. Please, just go."
Lezeke, frustrated by Valred’s cowardice, snapped, “If he wants to stay, let him stay. We don’t need him slowing us down.” Eli objected, still trying to convince Valred to come along. But Valred, smiling sadly with tears in his eyes, finally conceded: “Sure,” he said in a defeated tone.
The party began to leave the room, but Eli stayed close behind Valred, watching him carefully. Valred suddenly stopped walking as they neared the doorway. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to Eli, tears streaking his face.
“I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you,” Valred said, his voice a whisper.
Before Eli could react, the doorway slammed shut, trapping Eli and Valred in the room. The sound echoed like a thunderclap, and the light in the chamber dimmed. Eli instinctively reached for his gun, but Valred slowly turned toward him. Half of Valred’s face shifted, the flesh twisting and darkening into a gray-black hue, the telltale complexion of a dark elf. His once-soft eyes turned sharp and menacing, his kind demeanor replaced by cold malice. A voice, deeper and far more commanding than Valred’s, escaped his lips. “You should’ve listened to him,” said Newheart. Eli’s suspicions were confirmed—Valred and Newheart were one and the same all along.
As the steel-reinforced magical door slammed shut, cutting off Eli and Newheart from the rest of the group, the party fell into chaos. Each member reacted differently to the situation:

• Louis used brute force, slamming his fists and weapons against the door in a desperate attempt to break through. His frustration grew with every failed attempt.
• Lezeke, while outwardly helping, secretly found the situation slightly amusing. Though he wanted to save Eli, the tension and desperation of the moment gave him some dark, guilty pleasure.
• Dave, ever pragmatic, simply leaned against the door, caressing it gently as if acknowledging its futility. “It’s hopeless,” he muttered, almost to himself.
• Augustus (Tharmur), though far less invested emotionally, made an effort to look like he was trying, fiddling with anything on the door that might have been a mechanism. He sighed when nothing worked.

Meanwhile, inside the sealed chamber, Eli was struggling. The room suddenly filled with a thick, acrid gas that quickly attacked his lungs, causing him to cough violently. The once-pristine air of the study now reeked of chemicals, and the gas made it almost impossible for Eli to breathe, let alone fight. Newheart, standing across the room, pulled out a grotesque, bird-like mask with an elongated beak and dark, rounded lenses. The design was clearly intended to filter out toxins, and it allowed him to breathe normally despite the deadly fog. He stood calm and collected, completely unaffected by the gas as Eli stumbled and gasped for air. Eli, in desperation, tried to raise his revolver and fire at Newheart, but the gas overwhelmed him, his coughing fit making it impossible to aim properly. He staggered backward, clutching his throat, as the situation grew more dire. A hidden door on the far side of the room slid open silently, revealing a pair of glowing, predatory eyes in the darkness. A low, guttural growl rumbled through the air as the creature emerged from the shadows. As it stepped forward, the monstrous figure of a basilisk was revealed, its scaled body and many clawed legs gliding smoothly across the floor. Its pale, unblinking eyes locked onto Eli, who froze in place as his body began to feel heavy. The petrifying effect of the basilisk’s gaze began to take hold, creeping through Eli’s limbs like ice. His arms and legs stiffened, and he could feel his skin beginning to turn to stone. Newheart, still calm, observed Eli’s plight with an air of fascination. He tilted his head, “You’re such a curious creature, Eli,” Newheart mused. “Those eyes of yours, there’s something special about them, isn’t there? Perhaps they would make a fine addition to my collection. Or maybe…” He paused, as if savoring the thought. “…you’d make a wonderful subject for The Hole. But first-" He pulled out a scalpel, "I must experience the world in your lens. Don't worry, I'll only take one."

The Party Heads Left

Back on the other side of the door, the party debated their next move. With the door unbreakable and Eli’s life clearly in danger, they realized they had no choice but to try another path. Dave suggested they take the left pathway, the one Valred had earlier identified as leading to the dungeon’s exit. Though they knew it might lead them away from Newheart’s chamber, it was their only hope of finding another way inside.
“I say we try it,” Dave said flatly, already walking toward the left path. “Standing here won’t help him.”
Louis followed, still glancing back at the sealed door. Lezeke, though grumbling about wasting time, went along as well. Augustus, detached from the urgency of the moment, simply shrugged and trailed behind. As they moved quickly down the left pathway, they hoped desperately that it might circle back to Newheart’s room—or at the very least, provide some way to rescue Eli.
The party spent 20 grueling minutes navigating the left pathway, which twisted and turned into an endless maze of confusing tunnels. The claustrophobic air, dimly lit by faint torchlight, only added to their growing frustration. With each turn, it became increasingly clear that this path was a labyrinth designed to disorient intruders. Suddenly, the cave began to shake violently. The walls trembled, and the sound of muffled explosions echoed through the tunnels, creating a powerful reverberation that struck all the members. Dust and small rocks fell from the ceilings, and the ground beneath their feet groaned as though it could give way at any moment. The party broke into a desperate sprint, dodging falling debris and racing against time. The sound of collapsing stone grew louder, and the already narrow passageways began to close in, forcing them to leap over cracks and rubble. With adrenaline pumping, they pushed forward, praying that they were heading in the right direction or rather the left direction.

Eli's Misfortune

Eli’s consciousness returned slowly, his head pounding and his body in pain. His vision swam as he opened his eyes—or rather, eye. The lack of depth perception was immediately apparent, and the searing emptiness where his left eye should have been sent a shiver of dread through him. His movements were restricted; he was gagged and bound, left utterly vulnerable. From across the room, Newheart whistled a cheerful yet eerie tune that almost sounded familiar. He turned to Eli with a smile, holding a ink pen in his hand. “Ah, you’re awake,” Newheart mused. “Good, good. Tell me, what do you think of my new left eye?”
Newheart turned his face to show off his newly implanted eye—Eli’s eye. The sight made Eli’s stomach churn. The dark elf seemed absolutely delighted, pointing out that the new eye wasn’t just functional; it was extraordinary. “Did you know you can read all languages with this eye?” Newheart said jokingly. “Fascinating! I must say, Eli, you’ve brought me quite the breakthrough, I don't need to study those damn texts anymore!”
Eli struggled, muffled noises escaping from behind his gag, but Newheart ignored him, lost in his own musings. “You see, Eli,” Newheart continued, grabbing Eli’s cheeks and forcing him to look at him, “Although, I have no use to harvest anything out of you anymore, I do believe you’re the perfect candidate for The Hole."
As he spoke, Eli’s head began to rot under Newheart’s touch. A sharp, burning sensation spread across his face, as if decay itself was being forced upon him. Eli’s muffled cries of pain only seemed to amuse Newheart, who tilted his head in mock sympathy. “Oh, don’t be like that. This is a gift, truly.”
But then, the room shook violently, interrupting Newheart’s torment. The muffled sound of explosions echoed through the cave, accompanied by the faint sound of electricity crackling in the distance. The dark elf froze, his expression shifting from delight to annoyed fury. “Intruders?” he growled, standing up straight. His eyes narrowed. “Ah, your meddlesome friends, I assume.” He turned his gaze toward the entrance of the chamber.
Newheart stepped away from Eli, his demeanor cold and calculating. “I suppose our little session will have to wait,” he muttered, more to himself than to Eli. With a flick of his wrist, he gestured to the basilisk that had been lurking around the room. “Circle around to the left path,” he ordered the creature. “I trust they’re stupid enough to take that route.” Eli, paralyzed and powerless, could only watch as Newheart approached him one last time. The dark elf smiled cruelly. “If the ceiling collapses on you, well… no matter. At least I have the eye. You’re far too heavy to carry, anyway.”

An Angel in Celt Clothing

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the faint sound of rumbling and collapsing stone from outside the chamber. Eli struggled weakly against his bonds, his mind racing with despair. Suddenly, the sound of electricity crackling and zapping filled the room, followed by a loud crash. The sliding door that had sealed the chamber moments ago collapsed outward, another minute later it revealed a towering figure dashing in. A muscular man with orange hair, a fiery beard, and unmistakable Celtic war paint stepped into the room—Seamus O’Sloan.
Seamus’s eyes immediately locked onto Eli, taking in his weakened, nearly paralyzed form. “There ya are,” Seamus said with urgency, rushing to Eli’s side and cutting him free. “I was wonderin’ what kind o’ trouble ya’d gotten yerself into.”
Eli, barely able to stand, was helped to his feet by Seamus. “Where's the rest of ya?!,” Seamus said quickly, glancing around the room, Eli was unsure if he was talking about the party or his eye. “We need t’ get out o’ here. Felix Madelyn’s forces are stormin’ this place as we speak.”
As Seamus led Eli back toward the original doorway, the ground beneath them shook again. Before they could escape, a massive wave of debris collapsed into the passage they had come from, completely blocking their exit. The pair was trapped. “Bloody hell!” Seamus cursed, glancing back at the room. His eyes fell on the pathway that Newheart and the basilisk had taken. “Looks like there’s only one way out now.” Eli, though weak and depressed, managed a nod. With no other options, the two ventured into the dark, ominous tunnel that lay ahead, following in the footsteps of the man who had stolen from and experimented on Eli.

Newheart's Introduction Again

After what felt like an eternity, the party emerged into an open cave area, their breaths ragged from exertion. The chamber was dimly lit by sparse torches mounted on the jagged walls flickering shadows across the space. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and decay. As they entered the room, Augustus, distracted by the irregular shadows, accidentally bumped into a figure in the dark. Startled, he spun around and instinctively drew his weapon, only to realize the figure wasn’t moving.
It was a statue.
The statue depicted a man holding a sword, his face frozen in an expression of terror. His body posture suggested he had been ready to strike but had been overwhelmed by fear in his final moments. "A statue?" Augustus said.
“Not just a statue,” Dave corrected, running his hand over the stone surface. “Petrified, actually.” His voice was calm, but the implication was clear.
The party’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, and they noticed there were dozens of similar statues scattered throughout the chamber. Each one was unique, depicting individuals in various poses of either anger or fear. Some wielded weapons, their postures suggesting they had been in the middle of a fight. Others had their arms raised as if to shield themselves, their faces disfigured in horror.
Amidst the sea of statues, the party noticed several that were shattered, their pieces strewn across the floor. Some of the broken statues bore deep claw marks, as if something had attacked them with immense force. The destruction only added to the ominous atmosphere, leaving the party with an unsettling sense of dread. On the far right side of the chamber, they spotted an elevated platform about 30 feet high. A narrow set of stairs led to the top, where an open doorway beckoned them forward. From their vantage point, it was impossible to see what lay beyond the doorway, but the faint glow of light suggested there was something deeper inside.
The tension in the open cave room was suffocating as the party heard the faint sound of footsteps echoing from the elevated ground. Their eyes turned toward the doorway on the 30-foot-high platform, and out stepped a tall, ominous figure wearing a dark, bird-like mask. The mask’s elongated beak and dark, soulless lenses gave the figure an unnerving, almost otherworldly presence. The party immediately demanded to know where Eli was. Newheart gave no response, only tilting his head slightly, as though amused by their concern. He raised his hand, revealing the orb they sought, its surface glowing faintly with arcane energy. “This stays with me,” he declared, his voice echoing in the cavern. Frustrated and angry, the party stood their ground. Louis, stepping forward, demanded that Newheart should give the orb or things would get ugly.
For a moment, Newheart didn’t respond. Then, with a snap of his fingers, a low, guttural growl rumbled through the room. From the shadows of the elevated platform, the basilisk emerged, its pale, unblinking eyes gleaming menacingly in the dim torchlight. The creature let out a deafening roar before leaping down to the lower level with surprising agility, landing with a heavy thud that shook the ground beneath the party’s feet.
“No more talking,” Newheart said calmly, stepping back into the shadows of the doorway. “Let’s see how long you last.”

The Basilik

The party barely had time to react before the basilisk charged, its claws scraping across the stone floor as it lunged at them. Its terrifying presence was matched only by the deadly threat of its petrifying gaze. Augustus, ever perceptive, was the first to realize what they were dealing with. “Don’t look at it!” he shouted, quickly turning his back to the creature. Lezeke, unwilling to back down, charged forward with his sword raised high, risking a glance at the basilisk to swing a heavy blow at its side. The blade struck true, leaving a deep gash in the creature’s scaled hide. The basilisk roared in pain and snapped its massive jaws at Lezeke, narrowly missing him as he rolled out of the way.
Louis, seeing an opening, transformed into his werewolf form, his claws extending and his body bristling with strength. He leaped onto the basilisk’s back, sinking his claws into its thick scales and attempting to pin it down. The creature thrashed wildly, slamming Louis into a nearby pillar and sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone.
Dave, ever the opportunist, stayed on the outskirts of the fight, using his crossbow to fire bolts at the basilisk from a safe distance. His aim was precise, each bolt embedding itself in the creature’s hide, but the basilisk seemed unfazed by the minor injuries.
The Basilisk Strikes Back The basilisk roared again, its unblinking eyes locking momentarily onto Louis, who was still clinging to its back. The petrifying effect began to take hold, and Louis felt his muscles stiffen, his body growing heavier. With a burst of willpower, he broke free of the effect, leaping off the basilisk before it could fully immobilize him.
The creature turned its attention to Dave, who had been peppering it with bolts. With a sudden burst of speed, it charged at him, its claws slashing across the ground. Dave narrowly dodged to the side, but the creature’s tail whipped around, catching him in the ribs and sending him sprawling.

Augustus and Lezeke's Misfortune

As the brutal fight with the basilisk raged on, Newheart, standing atop the elevated platform, grew visibly bored with the spectacle. His masked face turned away from the chaos below, his attention waning. Without a word, he began to walk toward the doorway, his dark robes trailing behind him. Seeing this, Louis and Dave exchanged a quick glance, realizing they couldn’t let him get away. Both skilled climbers, they scrambled up the platform with impressive speed. They left Lezeke and Augustus to fend off the creature, a decision met with Augustus’s clear discomfort and Lezeke’s confidence. At the top, Louis immediately went for an attack, but somehow his strike missed, as though the air itself warped to protect Newheart. Frustrated, Louis abandoned the attack and attempted to grapple him instead. Newheart remained unnervingly calm, his voice low as he warned, "Let go, wolf. Or you’ll regret it."
Back on the ground, Lezeke and Augustus were struggling to keep the basilisk at bay. With its petrifying gaze forcing them to keep their eyes shut, it was proving to be dire. Augustus did his best to support with spells while avoiding direct eye contact, but the fight was quickly turning into a losing battle. Frustrated with the limitations of fighting blind, Lezeke decided to risk it all. He turned to face the basilisk head-on, ignoring Augustus’s panicked shouts to stop. Landing a series of powerful blows, Lezeke seemed to gain the upper hand—until the inevitable happened. His body began to stiffen, his movements slowing as the petrifying curse took hold.
“Shit,” Lezeke muttered.
His skin started to take on a gray, rough texture. Augustus screamed in frustrated disbelief. “Are you KIDDING ME?!” he yelled, his voice laced with exasperation rather than sadness. “You absolute MORON!”
Augustus stared at the statue of Lezeke, his face a mix of disbelief and utter disappointment. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “You’re a statue now. Great. Fantastic.” A low growl interrupted his thoughts afterwards. Slowly turning around, Augustus came face-to-face with the basilisk. It loomed over him, its unblinking eyes glowing ominously.
Before he could do much else, the basilisk lunged at him. Augustus was tossed around like a ragdoll, the beast using him as a toy. It slammed him into the ground, then grabbed him in its jaws and threw him across the room. Augustus landed with a pained groan, only to be slammed into a pillar moments later. His voice echoed through the chamber in a series of high-pitched screams that somehow managed to be both tragic and comedic. Desperate, Augustus cast vicious mockery and other spells, managing to hurt the creature but not nearly enough to stop it. The basilisk continued its assault, batting him around like a cat with its prey. Augustus, crawling away, muttered through gritted teeth, “I hate this. I hate ALL of this. I HATE YOU ALL! HELP ME FOR GODS' SAKE!!”
On the platform, Louis tightened his grip around Newheart, determined to restrain him. With an eerie calmness, Newheart released a pulse of magic that blasted Louis across the platform, sending him crashing into the stone. Dave, seeing an opening, immediately darted forward and grappled Newheart from behind, not to attack him per say, but to pickpocket. Despite his quick reaction, Newheart overpowered him with ease, throwing him to the ground with a single motion.
Meanwhile, Augustus continued to suffer at the paws(?) of the basilisk. The beast had begun to toy with him even more cruelly, slamming him into walls and tossing him into the air. “I’M GONNA DIE!” Augustus voice cracked.

Seamus and Eli

Eli and Seamus made their way through a dimly lit hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly. The walls were damp, lined with ominous scratches and streaks of dried blood. The air reeked of death and decay, and faint, unsettling echoes of groaning could be heard from deeper within the dungeon. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows ahead. A man, if he could still be called that, was an abomination of flesh and stitches, his body grotesquely reshaped. His skin was leather and stretched across bulging muscles, with jagged scars crisscrossing his arms and torso. His left arm was far longer than his right, unnaturally twisted to grip a massive, rusted great axe that dragged along the ground. His face was a patchwork of flesh, with mismatched eyes and an uneven jaw that hung slightly open. Despite his horrifying appearance, the most haunting part of him was his voice. a trembling voice that plea'd for death.
Eli froze, his heart sinking at the sight. The man’s body was clearly under someone else's control, his every movement forced and unnatural. Tears streamed down his disfigured face as he raised the massive axe, shaking violently. Eli couldn’t bring himself to act as he believed that his soul would be sent to The Nine Hells. He stood frozen, his hands trembling as he listened to the man’s cries. Seamus remained resolute, stepping forward, raising his weapon and meeting the man’s eyes with a solemn expression. “I’m sorry,” Seamus muttered quietly. “May you find peace.” With a single, powerful strike, Seamus ended the man’s suffering. The stitched figure collapsed to the ground with a final, relieved sigh. Seamus knelt briefly, murmuring a prayer under his breath for the soul of the fallen, before taking the great axe as a weapon. Not much conversation was held between the two, Eli barely ever spoke and when he speaks, his voice was bitter. He muttered about depressing topics, and the despair that was beginning to overwhelm him. Seamus listened quietly but didn’t engage much.
Eventually, the hallway opened into a small chamber where two paths diverged. Before either could speak, a faint high-pitched scream echoed through the corridors, followed by the unmistakable sound of Augustus’s panicked cries. Eli’s eyes widened, his previous apathy replaced by a spark of emotion. As he scanned the splitting paths, he caught sight of a shadowy figure in the distance, walking down the left corridor. Though barely visible, the figure’s bird-like mask and deliberate gait made it unmistakably Newheart. Eli’s depression and lethargy were replaced by a burning determination. Without a word, he stepped forward, intent on following the masked figure. Seamus, noticing Eli’s shift in demeanor, grabbed his arm, urging him to think, but Eli, his face now set with grim resolve, shrugged off Seamus’s hand. “I have to,” he said quietly. Without waiting for a response, Eli followed the figure into the shadows, his pace quickening.
Seamus let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “Stubborn fool,” he muttered. He turned his attention to the right path, where Augustus’s distant cries continued. Gritting his teeth, Seamus adjusted the grip on his new axe and headed toward the screams.

Newheart's Escape

Eli followed Newheart closely through the winding, shadowed corridors of the cave, careful to remain unseen. His steps were deliberate and quiet, his mind racing with thoughts of how he might confront or stop the dark elf. He mulled over his options, thinking of the best way to strike or confront Newheart without putting himself at risk. Minutes passed, and Eli noticed a faint glow ahead. The cave exit. He felt the warm, golden touch of sunlight on his skin as he stepped out of the cavern, blinking against the sudden brightness. The air outside was fresh, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon. His focus shifted as he spotted Newheart standing ahead, surrounded by Mademerian Enforcers, all wearing the sigils of Felix Madelyn's forces. Among them stood Sylphine Horineth, the intimidating and highly skilled Captain of Felix’s Royal Guard. The enforcers had their weapons trained on Newheart, clearly prepared to arrest him.
Despite the situation, Newheart remained confident, a smug grin plastered across his face. "Do you think you’ve won?" he taunted, pulling out what appeared to be the orb. He held it up with a flourish, as if it were a trump card. But then his expression shifted. His grin faltered, turning into wide-eyed disbelief as he examined the object in his hand more closely. It wasn’t the orb—it was simply a sports ball. His hand trembled as the realization dawned on him. Dave must have swapped it out during their earlier scuffle.
“NO!” Newheart bellowed, his voice filled with frustration and rage. His confidence shattered, his smug demeanor replaced by barely contained fury.
The guards, seeing his distress, took this as an opportunity to act. Sylphine barked an order, and the enforcers raised their crossbows, ready to fire. But before they could act, Newheart snarled and slammed his hand to the ground, casting a massive Fog Cloud. A dense, choking mist enveloped the entire area, blinding the guards and sending them into confusion. Amid the chaos, the sound of wings filled the air. The familiar screeches of abominable birds—twisted, grotesque creatures patched together with stitches and horrifying features—echoed from above. One of the massive creatures descended into the fog, its grotesque talons gripping Newheart and lifting him into the sky.
The enforcers scrambled, firing their weapons blindly into the fog, but it was too late. Newheart was high in the air, carried by his monstrous creations. Eli, standing just on the edge of the clearing, saw his opportunity. His heart pounded as he steadied his aim, raising his gun toward the rapidly ascending figure. Eli exhaled, his finger tightening on the trigger. The shot rang out, a sharp crack that pierced through the mist. But the bullet missed its mark, sailing harmlessly past Newheart and into the sky. Eli cursed under his breath as Newheart, now out of range, turned to look directly at him for just one second as if it examine how he looked, then he smiled as he flew away.
The fog began to clear as the guards regained their bearings. Eli knew he couldn’t stay. If the enforcers spotted him, there was no telling what might happen. He quickly ducked behind a nearby rock, retreating back toward the cave’s entrance before anyone could see him.

The Aftermath of The Basilik

As the basilisk continued its domestic abuse, Augustus was reaching his limit. His body ached, his movements slowed, and his spells were becoming weaker. While he managed to deal some damage to the beast, it persisted. Augustus desperately called out for help, but Louis and Dave, having just recovered from their encounter with Newheart, were too far to intervene in time.
Suddenly, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed through the cavern. A figure burst into the room with incredible speed—Seamus, the towering, orange-haired barbarian. Without hesitation, Seamus leapt from the elevated platform, delivering an elbow drop onto the basilisk with immense force. The impact shook the ground, momentarily stunning the creature. Seamus and Augustus quickly worked together, combining their attacks to bring the beast down. With Seamus’s raw power and Augustus’s remaining spells, the basilisk let out one final growl before collapsing to the ground, defeated. Augustus, breathing heavily, stood over the fallen creature. Though he felt relief, his pride refused to let him show it. Instead, he shouted, “YOU STOLE MY KILL!” at Seamus.
The party turned their attention to Lezeke, who remained a lifeless stone statue. Despite his frustrating arrogance, they collectively agreed to carry him out just as all of this was being done just for him. Using ropes and sheer force, they managed to pull his heavy body up to the elevated platform, all of them groaning and struggling under the effort. It was an exhausting task, but they finally succeeded in reuniting with Eli, who had just returned from stalking Newheart. Eli quickly explained what had happened outside the cave: Newheart had escaped, and Felix Madelyn’s enforcers were swarming the area. They began navigating the hallways toward the exit, hoping to avoid detection.
As they moved cautiously, they could hear the enforcers’ footsteps and voices growing louder, echoing through the stone corridors. The party quickly ducked into a nearby room, hiding behind crates and debris. They listened to the enforcers outside, their conversation revealing that they intended to search every room. Realizing they were about to be discovered, the party began to panic. But before anyone could act, Seamus stood up, his expression calm and resolved. “I’ll distract them,” he said simply, turning to the group. Seamus approached Louis and instructed Louis to head to his [Seamus] village in the Northern Mountains of Uskad—Dunfeannach. If Louis wants to have his questions answered regarding Noman, he must discuss it with the Morrigon. Louis asked how or why is Seamus doing all this, Seamus said the Morrigon told him to. Before anyone could stop him, Seamus turned to Augustus, who had always treated him with disdain. “Goodbye,” Seamus said with a faint smirk. Augustus scoffed. “Yeah, whatever.”
Seamus burst out of the room, charging directly toward Sylphine Horineth, the captain of Felix’s royal guard. He swung his newly acquired axe, but Sylphine effortlessly deflected the attack, unbothered by his advance. Seamus, realizing his strike had failed, quickly feigned insanity, yelling incoherent gibberish as he ran in the opposite direction. The enforcers, caught off guard by his erratic behavior, gave chase, leaving the area unguarded. Sylphine, though suspicious, allowed her soldiers to handle him, remaining behind to continue the search elsewhere.
Taking advantage of the chaos Seamus had caused, the party quickly left their hiding place, carrying Lezeke with them. They sprinted through the hallways until they finally emerged into the open air. The sunlight was a welcome sight as they fled from the cave, leaving the enforcers behind. Exhausted but alive, the party began their journey back to Socaller’s Fronte.

Using The Orb

As the party made their way back to Socaller's Fronte, Eli decided to use the orb to investigate Celthin, the figure whose ominous presence continued to weigh on him. He activated the orb, and a vision began to unfold. In the vision, Celthin was shown attempting to interact with a teenage girl. The girl’s features were only partially revealed—she had striking silver hair and pale skin, but the details of her face and surroundings were shrouded in mystery. Celthin reached out to her, his expression one of curiosity and calm calculation, but before his hand could make contact, he was suddenly attacked by... nothing. A force, invisible and untraceable, lashed out at him. Celthin pulled his hand back, undeterred, and smiled—a chilling expression that sent a wave of unease through Eli. The vision abruptly ended, leaving Eli with far more questions than answers. What was Celthin trying to do? Who was the girl?

Changing Lezeke's Identity

The party arrived at Socaller’s Fronte exhausted but relieved to finally rid themselves of the orb. Their first stop was Stirth Silvertoe’s pawn shop, where they handed over the orb as promised. Silvertoe examined it closely, his grin widening as he confirmed its authenticity. Satisfied, he wasted no time getting to work on fulfilling his part of the deal. When asked about Lezeke, the party dismissed the inquiry with a vague response, telling Stirth not to worry about him. Shrugging off their evasiveness, Silvertoe returned to his task and crafted forged documents that would officially establish Lezeke's new temporary identity. The name he chose? "Donkiko Luka." The party could only roll their eyes at the absurdity of the name, but at least Lezeke’s legal troubles were officially not gonna chase him as Stirth Silvertoe is slowly gonna have his friends in high places slowly erase Lezeke's identity from the Empire.
As the party was about to leave, Stirth stopped them, his gaze falling on Eli’s missing left eye. Curious and concerned, he pressed Eli for an explanation. Eli remained tight-lipped, refusing to reveal how he lost it. Stirth, amused yet undeterred, offered Eli a replacement—a custom arcane eye—for free. Eli hesitated but eventually accepted. As Stirth fitted the new eye, he casually pulled out a wanted poster and slid it across the table.
The poster depicted Celthin, Eli’s boss, with the caption labeling him as a fugitive. Stirth leaned in with a crooked smile and remarked jokingly, "You look just like him!" Though his words seemed playful, there was an intensity behind them, as if he knew the truth. Eli’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. They didn’t look the same—not exactly—but Stirth’s comment was enough to suggest he knew more than he let on. The pawn shop owner had likely figured out Eli’s real identity: Agnes Flintsorrow. The revelation left Eli uneasy, but Stirth didn’t push further, letting the matter hang in the air.
After leaving Stirth Silvertoe’s shop, the party regrouped to discuss their next steps which was heading to Orlet, capital of Orletia to meet the name in Balgalor's notes: Leilatha Mirakrana. Begrudgingly, the party agreed to pursue this lead, though their collective patience with Lezeke's stupidity was running thin.

Completion Date
Roester 9th, 4E 766

Plot type

Arc

Parent Plot

Socaller Fronte Arc Part 1

Subplots

• Orletia Arc: The Revelation

Related Characters

• Agnes Flintsorrow / Eli Rosestone
• Dave
• Guumrenthil "The Dragon" Lezeke
• Louis Maddstrong
• Tharmur / Augustus Bornhigh

Related Organizations

• Non Canino

Related Locations

• Socaller's Fronte