Sunday, Desnus 15 (morning)

Our tengu friend did not try to return, and his friends didn’t come looking for him. This was smart, in my opinion. Odds are they knew we were here (even if they didn’t know who we are) and that we’d have to come to them, eventually. Better to bolster their defenses than risk a battle on our terms.

Our biggest obstacle in the “take the fight to them” plan was the lock on their door, but the tengu gave us what we needed for getting around that, and Sera had it popped in just a few seconds. The door opened to a long hallway with numerous side passages branching off in the distance.

“It’s a maze,” I said, shaking my head.

There are all sorts of strategies for solving a maze according to everyone but me. I only knew of one, myself: crumple up the parchment on which they are drawn and throw them away. Sadly, this approach was impractical in our particular situation.

As we explored and bickered—I think someone suggested that we always turn right at every intersection for some reason—Sera found a secret door, and then we heard a loud squealing sound echoing from up ahead. That was followed shortly by the source: the first of three giant weasels, which seemed much more at home squeezing through the corridors of a maze than we were. And then things got worse.

There were secret passages everywhere. Tengu popped out of them left and right, dividing us up as we contended with them and the weasels. It was a chaotic, claustrophobic, and extremely musty fight. Stars, but those weasels stunk. Two of them spent considerable time in my face.

My tactics typically center around defending a very large area (and when Viktor uses that enlargement spell on me, a very, very large area) to slow our opponents and prevent them from ganging up on us. Needless to say, this doesn’t work so well in narrow hallways where the best we can do is line up in a single file. That being said, a horsechopper stabs as well as it slices, and does so quite well from several feet away, which put the weasels and myself on somewhat equal footing.

Once the last of the tengu and weasels had fallen, and it took a while to figure that out because we got scattered all over the place, we regrouped in a room that was in a fairly secluded corner to rest and heal.

And to get away from that blasted smell.

Starday, Desnus 14 (late morning)

Well, I asked for different and we got different.

Lamashtu is the goddess of, among other things, the monstrous and misshapen. If you’ve been thinking to yourself, as I have, that grimlocks aren’t really all that monstrous, and might be unfairly labeled as such, then you can set your mind at ease as we’ve gotten to the root of this mystery. We met the grimlock’s high priest today. And he had eyes. In true Lamashtu fashion, he had taken the eyes from some unidentified creature and sewn them to his face. And if that wasn’t enough, he had carved her holy symbol into his chest (their chieftain had done the same, so it was a whole thing). But that is the sort of dedication to abnormality that Lamashtu appreciates. Unlike Zon-Kuthon, it’s self-mutilation with, I dunno, a purpose.

The priest (Theldrick’s journals imply his name was Grallak) had some scrolls—I have no idea what someone who can’t see is doing with scrolls, so don’t ask—that were written in Common, but they were faded and nearly illegible. All we could make out was some reference to a power growing “in the pool of the dark cathedral” that would serve as a champion for the Triad, and more references to Kyuss bringing forth the Age of Worms.

The letter in Theldrick’s chambers also spoke of something called “The Ebon Aspect” stirring in the pool, and even suggested that heretics (that would be us) raiding the temple might awaken it.

Three guesses which pool they are referring to.

(early afternoon)

We’re resting back in the Zon-Kuthon wing because it’s nicer than a cave. And the beast, which Zhog has named “Bubbles”, needs to eat.

While we were waiting, there was a knock at the door in a deliberate pattern. It repeated after a short pause.

We were not expecting company. Not polite company, at any rate.

Snagsby did what any reasonable person would do, which is knock back with the same pattern. Then he said he heard footsteps retreating, and we decided to do something about that. He opened the door and there was a tengu backing away down the hall. Sera walked out after it and said, “Come in!’ with Snagsby following right behind her.

He froze and looked at Sera, then looked over at us through the door and said, “You’re not Theldrick’s…” leaving that thought hanging in the air.

Sera circled behind him somewhat threateningly, and it snapped at her with its beak. “Where is Theldrick?!” he demanded.

Viktor answered, “We’ve replaced Theldrick.”

“Prove it!”

I stepped into the hall with my horsechopper in hand, gave him my most charming smile, and said, “Honestly, we were not expecting visitors today! Come on in and we’ll show you around!”

“I see, I see…I didn’t mean to stay. It was just a simple errand…I’ll be back later.”

“What kind of errand do you have?” I asked. “Maybe you don’t have to leave!”

“I just want to talk to Theldrick. And I see he’s not here…”

“He is here! You can talk to Theldrick all you want! He just…won’t…answer.”

He was alarmed, and not sure what to do, so Sera decided for him. She gave the Tengu a shove, pushing him towards the doors. I swept my horsechopper low, catching his feet, and he tripped and fell forward into the room. He tried to stand up, so Zhog punched him and he went down again, this time unconscious.

We tied him up and decided to pump him for information. I checked his aura while he was out and it wasn’t tainted, which suggests…he just fell in with the wrong crowd. When he came to, I went with “nice”.

“Look, we get it. You wandered in here; you weren’t expecting all of this. You’ve got a message for Theldrick. Just tell us what it is, and maybe we can find a way for all this,” I said, gesturing around the room, “to end.”

“What’s your relationship to Theldrick?”

Honesty is important when you’re trying to build trust. “We’re alive and he isn’t.”

“The message was to simply ask him where his guards went.”

I smiled in response. “Oh! I can help you with that! They’re with Theldrick.”

The short of it was: he works for The Faceless One, which is the name mentioned in Theldrick’s journal, and the head of the Urgathoa contigant. Those journals have suggested that there is more than a little strife between the groups and something of a power struggle. He had written, “Grallak is the key. Thank the Midnight Lord that he trusts me and not the faceless One.” Well, good for you, Theldrick!

Of course, we couldn’t just kill him because I wasn’t going to allow another summary execution of a prisoner, but we couldn’t keep him with us, and we couldn’t let him go back to his cohorts. In the end, we made an appeal to logic and his sense of self-preservation: if he goes back to his master he’ll be seen as a snitch and most likely killed. But if he takes a chance on us, worst case is he has a lengthy head start running away. Best case? He’s the only surviving member of his little cult. He accepted the deal.

We aren’t naive. We sent him up the elevator, but there was nothing to stop him from coming back down so we set up a watch, just to make sure there were no surprises.