Sunday, Sarenith 26 (dawn)

We realized there was more of that hidden level that we hadn’t explored yet, so we went searching to see if there was another way to the creature. It turns out that there was, and we even got a look at it, but it was blocked by the same force that prevented us walking down the hallway from Bozal’s altar room. So we were still stuck.

We tried arrows, channeling energy, magic, even poking it with a long pole. Nothing worked.

But, as I said, we got a good look at it, and it was a gargantuan maggot thing, nearly the size of a small house, with legs ending in hooked feet, a cluster of dozens of eyes, and a giant, fanged maw. I felt for auras and registered that same, overwhelming corruption.

We went back to the altar and I stood in the green light once again.

Is it time? Let me out! it said.

I can’t. It’s not possible for us to do that.

Us? What do you mean ‘us’? It’s always been only you.

It’s ‘us’ now.

Are you of Kyuss? Are you with Bozal?

We are with him now.

He will set me free. No… You did something to him!

Yeah.

I will devour you, too, then!

If you want to devour me, you’ll have to help us solve this puzzle. How do we release you?

I don’t know.

Useless! It didn’t know any more than we did.

The question now, was, how much time did we have? Presumably, Bozal knew how to release this thing, but he’s dead. It would be pretty stupid for there to be only one way to set it free, though, so we figured Raknian must have a way to do it, too. But, he wouldn’t know Bozal is dead unless he checked in, and the letter suggested they don’t talk directly that often.

If that’s the case, it probably wasn’t going to be turned loose during today’s match. And, besides, if you were going for maximum effect, and maximum damage, you’d wait for the final championship, when the games would draw the largest possible crowds, and arguably more of the upper echelon of Korvosan society. So we had a day to figure out what it was, and how to deal with it.

To do that, though, we had to get out of here.

Originally, the plan was to get past the guards again, but then we discovered a passageway that led from here to Raknian’s mansion. Which makes sense, I guess, since it’s a lot easier than navigating the secret door and the death traps and so on just to talk to Bozal.

Of course, getting out that way was easier said than done. Cress opened the door at the end of the passageway as stealthily as he could, and saw three guards playing cards, and two very familiar-looking dwarves: Pitch Blade. The guards didn’t see the door open. The dwarves did. And then we had a nasty fight on our hands.

We didn’t want to alert everyone within earshot—fights are loud—nor did we want anyone getting away to warn others, so we threw two spells into the room. The first put most everyone into a state of confusion such they couldn’t tell their friends from their foes. The second plunged the room into a magical silence. There would be no cries for help, and no sounds of battle. There would also be no more spells, but we could work with that.

While the guards assaulted each other, we dealt with Pitch Blade, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t feel good. They may have been borderline polite to me during the dinner, but to literally everyone else they were obnoxious, bordering on offensive. If they were here now, then they were obviously put here on purpose in case we came through this way, which made them a part of this conspiracy. The fact that they were terrible people was just gravy on top.

When it was over, only one guard was still alive, though he was unconscious and bleeding out. I dragged the bodies of the dwarves into the secret passage for later disposal while Viktor cleaned up and Viore stabilized the survivor and had a private chat with them. The guard was in a tight spot. The three of them had very clearly fought one another, and he didn’t have a good explanation for what happened, so Viore gave him one: a fight broke out during their card game, and it turned lethal. The best part is, it’s technically true. As for Pitch Blade? They were there, but now they’re gone, and he didn’t know where they went or what happened to them. Also true.

Of course, he could always try to implicate us, but that would be a much harder sell. All the guards’ wounds were from their own weapons, and pretty obviously so. And it wouldn’t explain why they had fought with each other. It was in his best interest to stick with this story, and forget we were ever here.

To make sure there was no change of plans, we knocked him back out (this would also help make this more convincing, though I doubt he saw it that way) and quietly made our way up from the manor’s basement. We dispelled an alarm spell at the front door, and then snuck outside between the guards’ rounds. From there, we were in the clear. We got back to the warehouse just before sunrise.

Which, at this time of year is about 4:30am. And you can shut up now because I don’t want to hear it.

(late morning)

Cress and I headed over to the arena to check on the team and the matchups while the rest of the group prepared for fighting the maggot thing. Viktor is doing more research into its abilities and weaknesses, and the others are procuring equipment, along with alchemical and magical assistance.

The matches were already posted and, surprise, Ilthane’s Fury was assigned to fight something called Madtooth the Hungry at noon. That meant Draconic Brood was up against Auric’s Warband at 10am.

I ran into Meril just before I headed down to talk to the team.

“Did you get access to adamantine weapons?” I asked.

“No. We’re going with blanches,” he said. “I just finished the delivery.”

Ironically, we now have two adamantine axes that no one is using, courtesy of Pitch Blade, but pulling those out in the arena would likely be tempting fate.

I nodded and said, “That’s still a significant advantage none of the other teams have managed so far.”

“I hope it’s enough. We’ve come this far, and I don’t want to lose now to those arrogant asses.”

I smiled. “I think the one thing we have in common is that we’d rather be fighting one another for the championship then fighting Auric’s Warband.”

He chuckled and said, “Well, I’d rather be fighting Auric’s Warband than Madtooth the Hungry, whatever that is. They way they are playing it up, it’s a fierce monster of some kind.”

“I guess as the last-minute entry into the competition, we drew the short straw here.”

“I…don’t know. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve picked up on it. Raknian keeps looking at your people with a scowl on his face. It looks…personal.”

After a long pause, I just said, “It is. Tell you what. After this is all over? We’ll talk and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Sounds like a story that’s good for a couple of beers.”

“We may need something stronger than that.”

With that settled, I was back in the stands just in time for Draconic Brood’s match. Meril had saved a seat for me next to him.

The battle was truly epic. The crowd was expecting Draconic Brood to fall, but that is not what happened. Not even remotely. It became clear early on that Auric’s Warband had come to rely too heavily on their golems, and counted on their inherent resistance to injury to whittle down their opponents. But to their surprise, Draconic Brood was prepared and they were able to cut the golems down in time. It was a development Auric was not ready for, and when Khellek fell to Draconic’ Brood’s sorcerer Auric had too little support and too many opponents. He yielded, and Draconic Brood was declared the winner in an upset that will likely be remembered for years to come.

I congratulated Meril on his victory.

“Thank you! Honestly, I’m surprised but pleased. So hopefully that means we will face each other tomorrow. May the best team win, and good luck to you.”

(afternoon)

I made a quick run into town after Draconic Brood’s bout to find something I could wear for tomorrow’s games. Again, as the manager, I had to look a certain part, so I needed something that was a little flashy, but I also needed to be able to move and fight in it without it falling apart or getting in the way. I found a dressmaker that was willing to make needed alterations to something suitable, and do it as a rush for pickup early in the morning, in exchange for a generous fee and an endorsement from one of the semi-finalists in the games.

I settled back in next to Meril at the Arena about a quarter to noon. We watched as a large, covered cage or box was raised up from below, and to my complete lack of surprise, there as no sign of frost, or of anything, really, suggesting that it was even remotely cold. The announcer got the crowed worked up, and they were chanting “Madtooth! Madtooth! Madtooth!” as the guards pulled ropes to release what was inside.

What emerged was an immense frog with tentacles in place of forelegs, three eyestalks on the top of its head which could look in all directions, and a frighteningly long tongue. (I later learned this was called a “froghemoth”. Apparently a few very unlucky people have encountered them in the Mushfens, and fewer still have lived to talk about it.)

It was an ugly fight, and the creature was clearly chosen to negate the team’s primary advantage, which was their agility and teamwork. Fortunately, after our discussion a couple of nights ago, Tirra had procured a number of wands for them as a precaution, and they used one that produced lightning bolts to great effect. While it didn’t harm the creature, they quickly figured out that it slowed it down, and by hitting it over and over, they kept it in this sluggish state and were able to bring it down. But it was close and nerve-wracking, and their lives were all on the line (Madtooth certainly wouldn’t stop just because someone yielded). One team member went down to their injuries—not dead, thankfully, but they were at risk of dying right there on the field—and most of the others were hanging on by a thread.

Meril congratulated me on the win. I’ll admit that I was still pretty shocked by the whole thing, though I had enough of my senses to thank him.

“I guess this means we’ll be facing one another tomorrow,” I said.

“Indeed. It will be a good match.”

I smiled and shook his hand. “It will. And I’m pleased we’re facing one another.”

We met with Tirra to confirm that we’d satisfied the terms of our agreement. Though it was Draconic Brood that defeated them, we had provided key tactical information and advice to their manager that resulted in the Warband’s defeat.

“I figured it didn’t matter who won, so long as Auric’s team lost,” I said.

Tirra agreed, and said her guild was content with the outcome. So that is one less thing to worry about.

The question now was, what would tomorrow bring?

We had a discussion about this, because the situation could be even worse than we feared. Last year’s champion was now off the field, but what if “champion” was a generic, not specific, term? Technically, anyone who fought and defeated an opponent could be considered a champion. Would this maggot creature really differentiate between “champion of the games” and “champion in battle”? Did “champion” even matter at all?

Assuming it wasn’t discriminating, its appearance and attack could occur at any time from the final bout through the award ceremony, and it may not care who it eats. We can’t assume its goal is based in semantics.

Regardless, we needed to warn the teams.

(night)

We met up with Viktor, and he told us what he learned of these maggot things, which history calls Apostles of Kyuss. They are capable of generating numerous undead by swallowing victims whole and spitting them back out, and they can unleash a torrent of acid much like a black dragon does. To truly harm them, weapons needed to be made of silver and imbued with holy power.

At the day’s closing ceremony, Raknian seemed surprisingly calm for someone whose pet team just lost, but I guess it didn’t matter who was standing at the end as long as it satisfied the conditions set out by Bozal. Whatever he is getting out of this arrangement—that note didn’t say—it only required that his champions, however those are defined, be in the center of the arena. Presumably because that’s where the Apostle would emerge.

Our suspicions and concerns were growing by the hour, and we met with Celeste to fill her in on what we’d learned. She suggested we could just leave the competition, now that the arrangement with Tirra was satisfied, but this was way more complicated than that.

First off, there was no way I was going to warn just half the people on that field. I was going to tell both our team and Draconic Brood what our suspicions were, and let them make their own decisions. Second, something was going to happen tomorrow, whether the teams forfeited or not. There was zero chance Raknian was just going to cancel events and go home. He’d find a way out of this, regardless, because he had something significant at stake.

What we really needed was help.

I spoke with our team before they went back down to the village and gave them the short version of what was happening. We had told them at the start of the games that we were investigating something under the arena, so they know we’ve been up to something all this time. They weren’t quite prepared for the severity of what we found, but they agreed to stay in the competition. In part because of the prize money, which they stood to gain a significant chunk of if they won, and in part because…they wouldn’t be alone. We would be there tomorrow, too, and prepared to fight. They sparred with me; they know I, and by extension my friends, are capable. And, depending on what Draconic Brood decided, there could be even more support down there with them.

I flagged Meril down next. “Remember when I said I’d tell you the whole story after all this was over? Well, we need to talk about it now. It’s important.”

We picked a tavern that has some private dining rooms to have our talk. This was a much harder conversation, and a much harder sell. Unlike our own team, he had not been part of this from the start, and I had deliberately kept information from him. There were reasons for that, obviously, but the best way to do this without shattering the trust we had built over the last few days was to tell him everything. I started with our arrival in Korvosa, than ran through Zhog’s and my kidnappings, the dopplegangers, the mind flayer, Raknian’s connection to it all, what we found under the arena, the prisoner we had rescued, and even Lahaka’s murder.

“You have to admit, this sounds like the wildest conspiracy theory ever,” he said. “Do you have proof of any of this?”

“We do. I can show you the warehouse where much of this happened, and provide additional evidence while we’re there.”

He agreed to come with me, and we gave him the short tour of the place (“this is the cell I was held in”, “this is where Zhog and I were chained to the wall”, “this is what’s left of the lab equipment”, and so on), showed him the notes from Zyrxog that we hadn’t yet turned over to the city, and ended with Lahaka’s body.

“Tell me you’ve seen that signet ring he wears,” I said.

The strangulation marks on her neck, and the imprint of those two snakes, were sobering. He nodded solemnly.

“You and your team need to decide what you want to do,” I continued. “Our team is staying in the competition. But no matter what happens? My friends and I will be on that field tomorrow. No one is fighting this thing alone.”

“If this really happens, our teams have to count on each other to face the common enemy, and forget the games.”

“Agreed. If this happens, we are all on the same side.

“But you need to be warned: to fight it effectively, you’ll need silver weapons that are imbued with holy power. It will be resistant to magic. You’ll need to be prepared for acid and for undead. We barely have the resources to cover ourselves, but we can help you figure out options for your team.”

We talked this out for a while, and formed a rough plan. Then he asked the only question that really mattered: “How confident are you that we can take this thing down?”

“I am nervous. But the more people we have on the field that are willing to fight, the better our odds. And if we work together, and I believe you are people we can work with, we can do this. We can’t rely on the city’s resources because Raknian is too well connected. If the city knows, Raknian knows, and all this planning will be for nothing.”

“And if we walk away from it, it will be loose in Korvosa.”

“Yes. If you and your team feel they can’t stand up to it, then that’s fair. You do what you have to do. But my friends and I don’t have that choice. Someone has to try and stop it. Right now, that ‘someone’ is us.”

“I hope you are wrong about this.”

“I hope I am, too. But, I am saying to you as a paladin of Abadar, this is what we saw. We may be putting the information together wrong, but this is our best guess about what is going to happen.”

Draconic Brood is staying in the games, and is prepared to fight. He spoke to them not long ago and just got word back to us through a messenger.

But we weren’t done yet. We needed all the help we could find, and we had a good idea of how to get more: Arcane Auriga. They have been at the arena watching the remaining matches, and as unlikely as it sounded, Zhog had a respectful relationship with them, and we could maybe use that to talk with them. We just had to find where they were.

Zhog and I set out to do that, and though his suggestions of where to look didn’t pan out, I talked to people at each place we visited and eventually got a lead. We finally tracked them down to a small tavern in Midland.

They were surprised to see Zhog come in, and didn’t immediately blow us off when we approached. Like I said: respectful.

“Is there someplace we can talk privately?” Zhog asked.

“What’s this about?” Rennida asked in response.

“There’s potentially a significant danger to the city during the games tomorrow,” I said.

They looked at one another, then she nodded her head. So we grabbed a private room.

“As a paladin of Abadar,” I began, “I swear to you that everything we are about to tell you is the truth, as we know it.” I told them the shorter version of the same story I gave Meril, starting at the arena. I also pulled out Lahaka’s body (it was a private room, remember) because it was some of the best physical evidence we had.

“We are going to be on that field tomorrow, no matter what,” I said. “It’s not fair to ask you to put your own lives at risk, but you know how to shoot arrows, and you are good at it. If you can get them silvered and aligned, then even from a distance, you can make a difference.”

They’re on board, too.

Then the night took a bad turn. We sent messengers to Ekaym and Eligos. The first was to arrange a meeting with him early in the morning, and we got a reply not long after confirming a time. The second was to apprise Eligos of the plans for tomorrow. That messenger returned, reporting that no one answered the door, but the door itself was standing slightly ajar.

We immediately sent for Celeste. She was a bit annoyed at being summoned so late, but when we explained what happened she agreed to accompany us to investigate. We found the home exactly as described, and cautiously entered. It didn’t take long to spot Pollard’s body lying in a pool of dried blood. His throat was cut wide open.

“This is not good,” Zhog said.

“We screwed up,” I replied. “We should have checked on Eligos sooner. We should have been protecting him.”

We found Eligos in his bed, apparently assassinated in his sleep. After a very long silence, I said, “We need to notify the authorities.”

“Without implicating ourselves of any involvement. In fact, it would be best if we weren’t here right now,” Celeste added.

Except there was a pile of papers and items that all pointed to us, presumably in his study or whatever room he used for research. Being detained as persons of interest ahead of tomorrow’s games would be a disaster. So Sera and Cress went looking, and turned up his research and our items, all organized in a nice bundle. Looks like he had finished his work, and was in the middle of a final letter to Allustan. We gathered it all up and left.

We used the time as we walked back to the warehouse to tell Celeste what we had planned for tomorrow. Then Zhog pointed out something we missed. “We haven’t warned Auric’s Warband.”

Crap. He was right. “We need to let them know that they’re at risk,” I agreed.

“You don’t think they are in on it with Raknian, do you?” Celeste asked.

“It feels more like a, ‘Here’s my champion, sitting right here next to me’ scenario,” I said.

“OK. I’ll talk to them.”

That’s as many people as we think we can warn.

Moonday, Sarenith 27 (early morning)

Today is the day. The final bout is scheduled for noon.

Ekaym met us at the warehouse at 7am.

“It’s bad news,” I said. I get that this was not exactly a gentle start. Give me a break; I’ve never done this before and wasn’t sure where or how to begin.

“Bad news is better than no news.”

“Your sister is dead. She was murdered by Raknian, then turned into a zombie. We destroyed the zombie, but preserved her body.” I pulled her out of the bag again and unwrapped her. “You can see the marks around her neck. And the imprint of what we believe is Raknian’s ring. I’m so sorry. We all are.”

He was obviously very upset. And while he had every right to be, we needed to be sure he didn’t do something rash, especially ahead of the match today.

“Listen to me. We think something horrible is going to happen during the games.”

“Something horrible has already happened!”

“Something even more horrible than this. Listen. Please.”

And I laid it all out to him.

“I know I am asking a lot of you,” I said, “And it’s not fair. But, please, wait until after the games to take action. There are thousands of lives at stake now.”

He considered for a moment, then nodded and said, “I can wait another day. And, thank you. For finding her.”

We have planned as much as we can. All we can do now is see it through.