1


            Devin pulled his shortsword back to hand, brushed his free hand across the pommels of his daggers to ensure all was fit, ready, and close if needed, and led the way back to the storeroom west of the conference room where they'd first lain in wait for Nualia. Devin eyed the stairs down to the west, and his posture changed; his balance shifted. Nearly each corner they'd turned down here -- and each door that they'd opened -- had presented a new threat.
            He gestured for the party to hold and wait as still as they could, and he gently worked his way down the first steps, intending to peer around the corner to the south, where the stairs led further down.
            The first bend showed him only stairs descending into less worked stone than the goblin dungeon sported, turning again after a single flight. He ventured farther, peering around that corner as well. Here, the light did not reach, but he thought he could dimly make out the outline of a great door.
            Devin ascended the steps back enough to be in sight of the forward look of the party. The closed door presented an opportunity for them to advance a little bit, and he motioned them to proceed -- slowly, quietly -- and to not crowd. He descended back down the stairs, pausing before reaching the bottom landing. He surveyed it, wary of irregularities in its surface or the walls surrounding it. If Nualia had a private sanctuary, she may have established means to punish supplicants she did not wish to receive. Cracks lined the walls here and there, but nothing struck his sixth sense as deliberately placed.
            The hulking Shoanti barbarian narrowed his eyes as Devin moved towards the door, and made sure to be near the half-elf should danger arise. His hammer slung away in such close quarters, I'Daiin reflexively and silently drew his longsword as Devin touched the door. we shall need more light sources if we're going to be worming our way down to Hells-knows-what, he thought to himself. So far from the Lifegiver. No wonder the evil things like the dark.
            Recognizing the need for a light Rhaina passed a Sunrod to I’Daiin”Keep it behind him”,she whispered.”So as to not disturb his night vision”
            When nothing about the landing raised his concern, Devin stepped down onto it and approached the door, surveying it with the same degree of caution. His fingertips listened to the visible mechanisms and the door's perimeter, gauging breezes, motions, or ill fit, and if the door bore a lock or merely a latch. Once the light spilled around him, he could see that the door was of stone, and hung slightly ajar (though not enough to open a crack between the thick door and the jamb), the detailed carvings that once covered its surface defaced by chisel marks and hammer blows, to the extent that only a few remnants of images (mostly of gemstones and crowns) remained. He found the floor slanted downward to his right at the bottom landing.
            Once he was confident it was reasonably clear, Devin looked behind him and nodded to indicate he was proceeding, and he cracked the door open to look beyond it. As the door scraped open, flickering light from within met the strong light of Rhaina's sunrod. In the room beyond, two pillars supported the ceiling. In many places the stone walls, floor, and ceiling were caked with ancient grime and soot. A lit lantern sat in one corner, throwing light across the features of the partially damaged statues that lurked in the alcoves on either side of the room. They depicted a man in robes, clutching a book and a glaive.
            The entire room was canted back toward Devin, and whatever ancient upheaval caused the complex to tilt had knocked the statues from their bases, so that now they leaned against the walls of their alcoves like drunks, or nosy townsfolk peering from around their doorjambs.
            There was no movement, no sound from within that Devin could sense.
            The room had more details than he could tersely explain; the others would see for themselves, momentarily. Devin slipped into the room and moved to his left and forward, choosing to stay out of the lowest spots of the room lest the floor be undermined. He gestured for the party to follow, "Mind the cant; I'm staying high." Devin's first thought was that the partially-toppled statues posed a danger of breaking free and crashing into the southwestern corner of the room if their current rest was tenuous. Fortunately, the tilt of the room wasn't so bad as to prevent the lantern from resting where it sat, the if the statues did slip free, they wouldn't slide quickly. Devin slowly made his way to the northeastern corner of the room and turned to keep a mind on the room's quiet and the others' entry. There was enough to investigate here that waiting til everyone had elected what they wished to insight would probably yield the best results.
            If nothing had caught his own attention, yet, or given him a scent of danger, he stated, "I've noted nothing untoward, yet, over the path I just took. This antechamber may be just what it appears, though it certainly predates the goblins."
            “Follow Devin in and spread out a bit to allow us all to get in.” As soon as she passed the door Rhaina stepped to the side and attempted to assess the area for any taint of evil
            As Devin hadn’t noted anything hazardous thus far, as the party arrays about the room, he sets to investigating the door to the east; presumably, the path forward. He spends the few minutes required to assess its mechanisms, and – if still nothing of note – waits to open it until he has the assent and readiness of the rest of the party.
            The barbarian wrinkled his nose at the place. "What ancient evil is this? Firstly," and thus began the absurd spectacle of I'Daiin acting scholarly, "Goblins see in the dark. So did that hell-beast Nualia. So who needed a lantern down here? And what split this place open? I dislike this muchly. It looks like a tomb. Some colossal unliving thing came out of there." I'Daiin appeared ready to strike at anything out of the ordinary.
            Bergi was light and nimble enough that she didn’t mind tiptoeing around the shallower portions of the room. Her voice trilled with summoner’s notes as she circled and scanned the room in earnest. “Though I doubt Nualia had few callers,” she said. “There may have been those brought below that needed some light, Desna help them.”
            "Lyrie," Orik grunted.
            Bergi wasn’t sure it was safe enough to try shimmying up one of the statues to get a look at the pages of a book, so she waved Orik over to give her a lift. “Thank you, sir,” she said as he tripled her height in a moment.
            "Ready?" Devin asked. With no calls to the contrary, he turned back to the door and opened it.
            “As afternoon tea,” Bergi replied, then she groaned and grabbed her growling stomach as the notion of tea brought food back to mind. “Ugh, I’d skinny my head bare for some biscuits and jam about now.”
            She pulled the tiny cold iron dagger from her waistband and eyed it with potential shaving purpose. Then she looked at the glowing dagger in her other hand and grunted in good humor. “Wouldja look at that?” she mused. “Why in the bells hadn’t I conjured that before?”
            She lipped a few notes of song, and the mystical light transferred from the full sized dagger to the smaller more delicate one. She sheathed the dark dagger and hefted her arm back, hurling the tiny dagger into the air. The lighted blade zipped out and spun with glowing glee as it went end over end, before reaching the maximum range of Bergi’s wee arm. The cold iron weapon then reversed course and found its way back to her hand with a satisfying smack.
            “Ha, ha! Look at that!” Bergi laughed and clapped with glee at the impromptu light show. She flipped the dagger out and back again, up and around, and idly tested its glowing shadow play as she spoke.
            “There’s a glow of magic all around, by the by,” she said, then realized the duplicity. “Not my blade, another. Barely there, just a whisper of song really, each to their own ears as is. Getting a sense it might have been for preservation or for making long term residence a sight chummier.” She shrugged. “Not sure, but it’s there just the same.” She picked up a low whistling tune as she played with her newfound glow toy and followed along at the party’s pace.
            “Very entertaining”Rhaina chuckled “Leave it to Bergi to find something amusing in this foul place” With that she strode forward,on Devin’s flank”Right with you,my friend”

2


            Light flooded into a short hallway as Devin opened the door, rising in a slope to an alcove in which a partially collapsed statue sat. The top half of the statue was missing, leaving behind a ragged stump of a torso; of the rest, there was no sign.
            On either side of the far alcove, there were stone doors, their faces carved with strange runes. In the middle of the hall, alcoves to either side held stone statues depicting stern men wielding glaives. Between them, the floor was polished and shiny, unlike the dusty floor elsewhere.
            "Huh," Devin announced noncommittally at noticing the dramatic difference in the floor surfaces. He then asked the party, "Stay behind, a moment." He advanced carefully up the hall, mentally ruminating that this place had clearly had former uses in better days, and if someone were going to produce an illusory floor, they'd do so to match the luster of a clean venue, versus the dust and disrepair this place had been subjected to. Or maybe it was some type of persistent grease or oil, kept maintained, somehow leveraged into the overall off-kilter slope of the floors here.
            Stopping short of the change in surfaces, Devin paid note to if the shiny effect continued into the statue alcoves north and south, and how the tracks they'd observed in the dust negotiated -- or halted at -- the implicit borders in the corridor.
            Examining the tracks in the dust was difficult, to Devin's eye - it simply wasn't thick enough, or even enough, for him to judge. All he could tell was that the dust was disturbed on either side of the area that had roused his suspicion. No dust marred the clean stone of the floor before him, though there was a bit before each alcove. Looking about carefully, he realized there was a slot in the ceiling - no, two - one on either side of the bare patch, well-disguised, reaching from one side of the corridor to the other. In addition, while there was a certain accumulation of grime on the statues, the ends of their glaives were cleaner.
            He paid some additional mind -- still from his present position -- of the partially-collapsed statue in the alcove at the far eastern end of the hall. If something was going to roast him, or spew rolling carnage, it'd be from there or the ceiling near it. He turned and regarded the eastern face of the eastern pillar in the room in which they party waited, now thinking to wonder if it was scored or damaged or deface in any way that suggested it'd been on the receiving end of projectiles or effects from this hallway. The pillars showed no more damage than the walls of the prior room had - scored with partial claw-marks and smeared with soot, but not appreciably cracked, chipped, or otherwise in evidence of impact.
            Devin reported back to the group, "The floor here is part of a trap; not sure what all it does, yet, or how to bypass it. It spans the whole width of the corridor, and the glaives of the statues and something from above, in the ceiling, is involved, too. I need a few minutes." He sheathed his shortsword and traded it for his knife; something he wouldn't mourn the loss of if it came to that. Whatever the trap was, someone passing this corridor in either direction would need a means to render it safe, and safe enough for the demon-dog things... unless they had floated across without touching the floor. Simple pressure? And it had been triggered often enough to knock the dust off the floor when the deadfall set and reset? What, then, the slots in the ceilings?
            Three distinct possibilities came to mind; maybe passers-by had to manipulate the statues in some way before stepping into the area, maybe the edges of the area had a narrow safe path -- though Devin discounted that, as it would inhibit all access to these areas even for invited guests in this area's former use -- or there was a trigger or latch somewhere in the hallway on either side that rendered it safe.
            He set about testing the border of the floor with his knife point, checking for a seam, and probing the statues' glaives and grips, gauging what might move, latch, or render the trap inert. He tried to avoid springing it, as it might take some time to reset and clear the corridor for their advance, or it might be tied into some deeper alarm -- if something was still there to hear it and investigate -- but accepted it may inadvertently happen in the necessary course of determining how to render it safe.
            While he remained uncertain of what, exactly, the trap might do if triggered, Devin determined that it had something to do with a pressure plate under the floor. A bit of tinkering, and few wedges later, he was reasonably sure that the trap wouldn't activate unless, say, I'Daiin were to jump up and down on it.
            Devin returned the knife to its sheath on his belt, surveyed the space between the statues one more time, and padded eastward through it, keeping his weight mostly towards the north statue. Upon reaching the eastern edge of the unusual floor surface, he exhaled and moved to the south side of the corridor.
            "One at a time; no running or bounding on this section. I'll stay here ready to wedge or impede anything that does still manage to spring." Devin had his knife back in hand again, just as a utilitarian implement that he could use to wedge or arrest a mechanism if the urgent need arose. Indeed, he passed over the shiny spot without trouble, as did those who followed.
            Anticipating the role and recalling the overall breadth of the island, Devin elected to investigate the north door, first, at the end of the hallway. Whatever was to the north was probably the smaller area of the two choices. He was wary enough regarding potential secondary traps that he took a couple of minutes to carefully inspect it before finally attempting to open it.
            Bergi was almost a pest. Almost. She flitted back and forth, inspecting Devin and what he was about. She watched him as he poked and prodded, providing light where she could, oh yes, light. Dagger light, zipping through the air and back. She was trying to work on getting the dagger to turn in the air, boomerang-like, but wasn’t having much success.
            When he quirked an eyebrow at her dagger while looking for possible wedges for his trap tomfoolery, she recoiled and held the blade behind her defensively. She calmed a bit after that, but her enthusiasm for accelerating the search was still evident.
            Whenever Devin turned an abrupt eye upon her shadowing presence, Bergi drifted back to mingle with Amrynn, using the coy elf’s presence as a shield.
            Devin smirked, eventually accepting the sudden playful changes of the ambient light in stride, understanding the intention by which it was offered. He nodded terse thanks.
            With Bergi's flitting aid, Devin determined that there were no ugly surprises on the leftmost door before nudging it open.
            Wide stone ledges of red marble lined the curving walls of the room beyond, which was well-lit by four burning skulls that sat in each "corner." Three chairs rested in the room, and both stone ledges were covered with old books, scrolls, teeth, bones, scrimshaw artwork, jars of deformed creatures soaking in brine, taxidermied animals and limbs, and other strange objects. Beside the door, a lever jutted from the wall. At the far end of the room, a large round fountain filled with frothy blue water filled the room with the gentle sound of bubbling.
            "What do you see, Devin?" Amrynn asked, having remained outside the crowded hallway.
            "It's a study, or a library, or a trophy room; maybe all. No other visible exits. Well-lit; burning skulls. Lever on the wall." Devin elected to proceed into the room, stepping in far enough to look left and right over the room's breadth. He anticipated the lever had something to do with the trap, so didn't move it about until they knew more of the area. There was much of interest in here; his eyes went over the books and scrolls longingly; but their primary task was to gain the extent of the lair and confirm the area was cleared out. They could gather treasure on the way out.
            Without blocking the party's advance for any who wished to investigate, if nothing leapt out at him about the study, he went to the south door, checked it as well, and prepared to open it if he deemed it clear.
            At the mention of a library, Amrynn came forward, her wariness overcome by curiosity. As Devin examined the other door in the hallway, she slipped into the strange room, touching nothing at first, but looking over the scattered tomes and parchments.
            "There are journals here," she said as Devin ventured to crack open the door. "They have Nualia's name in them."
            "We should read those, skim them if we can. Yes, I can read," he grumbled at the elf. "Not about her arcane secrets--we need to know what her plans were. The goblins were going to attack. Nualia had the plans of chaining up some Mal-fesh-nya-kaor...no doubt a devil. Wait, a demon?" I'Daiin's eyes darted to Amrynn's and Bergi's faces for confirmation. "Yes, a demon," he said, somewhat uncertainly.
            He scratched his scalp a little self-consciously--it could use a trimming in the severe Shoanti style. "So, um, yes, perhaps about her arcane secrets," he concluded, his final statement chewing up his first idea ouroborous style.
            Devin paused his advance in the short hallway, his eyes and step and fingertips still alert after finding the one trap. The hallway felt wrong to him -- why such a short hallway, with but one door on each end? He stepped into it cautiously to investigate the next door to the south; he left the one to the party open, to continue to hear the conversation and observations.
            "I won't go far," he assured all who might mind his advance.
            "How many of the books appears to be her journals?" he asked, though his attention was upon the door. I'Daiin's warning of what Nualia's pursuits may have been warranted some immediate review of the journals, though as Bergi had noted earlier, they were short on rest and supplies. If there were but a handful, he'd be amenable to helping review them. If there were many, he counted the chance of finding something significant in anything less than a thorough review to be slim and time-consuming.
            "Quite a few," Amrynn replied absently, still busy looking over the wealth of information the room held.
            "If she'd bound a demon down here... she came rather casually up the stairs. Those dogs might've been the limit of her accomplishments so far." Devin hoped that they'd interrupted her work before she'd achieved her penultimate objectives.
            Orik tapped Bergi on the shoulder. "Listen, Bergi... if there's a demon down here, you'll want to stay behind me," he said seriously. He was still leaving wet squelch-marks behind after his dive into the nighttime ocean.
            Devin eased the next door open to find a dark, L-shaped hallway that narrowed to his left to frame a pillar of what seemed to be an immense stack of tens of thousands of oversized gold coins, rising from floor to ceiling. To his right, revealed with a throw of Bergi's glowing dagger, the hallway ended at a pair of stone doors carved with the depictions of two skeletons reaching out to clutch a skull between them.
            "No /way/ that's real gold," Devin breathed at spying the pillar, though his tone was one-third disbelief, two-thirds reckless hope he was wrong. "Wow." Devin shared a meaningful look with Bergi... and almost inadvertently kissed the halfling bard leaning forward on her tippy-toes. She was gawking at the pillar, eyes huge saucers. The light from her whirling dagger had caught the sparkle of gold. Devin hadn’t heard her creep up almost on top of him, but there she was.
            He reluctantly shut the door to the hall and moved back to the study.
            Bergi extended a hand and delayed the door closing as long as her strength would allow. Her head slid to one side until just one eye could peer through the diminishing crack. When the door latch engaged, Bergi blinked a couple of times and shook her head.
            "Journals. Are they ordered or dated? Let's each take one, skim the most-recent." Devin gave credence that Nualia's journals might very well hold something vital that they'd need to know about before they might encounter it, down here.
            Devin shook at his head at gaining an understanding of the size of the potential task. "Too many; too much time to spend on it, now. We'll need to take them with us. We can come back if we find something in them, something we absolutely must return for."
            Rhaina had been watching and listening to the discussions and exploration;content to let those who knew best do their jobs. Rhaina was particularly impressed by Orik’s offer to protect Bergi and told him so “Aren’t you glad we spared each other Orik?I think there is hope for you yet.she added with a wink
            Orik gave her a look, dour-faced as ever, saying nothing.
            “Ha,” Bergi snorted. “He might be regretting that, because if there is a demon down here, I might be crawling right inside that armor of his.” She cast a measuring eye at Orik and said, “But thanks.”
            "Don't get sappy about it," Orik growled, but stayed near Bergi as she went after Devin.
            As the discussion regarding the study,made Devin choose to go back Rhaina spoke up. “Ok!” She spoke just loud enough so all would hear. “The journals as well as a thorough search of her study,(which I hope will reveal something of a monetary benefit) are sufficient reason for me to say that it is time we gather what we find and return to Sandpoint. They deserve to know that the threat has been largely dealt with and I for one would love to spend a night in a bed. We send the goblin women and children to the others with a message that Thistletop belongs to US! Whether we choose to make it a base or not we can at least return and stay around long enough to search it completely. Then if they try to retake it we will be present.”
            She turned to the half Elf”Devin can you search her study and assess,perhaps with Bergi’s help what is of value and portable enough to take with us,please?”
            Bergi had wandered back into the conversational circle, and she said, “We should, you know, at least check that pillar, right? I mean, we should, right?”
            "We should," Devin nodded to Bergi's point. "Value, we may have found. Pillar of crafted gold, by appearance." Devin pointed back south, through the short hallway.
            "The journals have the most worth to us, here," he surmised, looking about the study. "Let's see if we can take a chunk of that pillar, too. Come take a look."
            “If you insist,” Bergi said. “And worth is such a flexible word, varied in its applicability. One woman’s musty old tomes is another woman’s giant pillar of gold after all.”
            Devin accepted the present mind to return to Sandpoint; now it was a matter of grabbing of value what wasn't nailed down. 'Value' included both knowledge and tangibles, and Devin had his mind on a fairly big tangible.
            He moved back south through the short hallway to the broader corridor and -- all but certain the pillar was part of some elaborate lure -- carefully approached it. If he got within arm's reach of it, he intended to use a knife point upon the surface to ascertain if it truly was gold or not, and if it were solid or mere leaf.
            Bergi trilled her enigmatic notes, summoning the weave to enhance her vision once more. She expected the underlying magic, that ambiance from before, but there had to be something else at work here to stack that gold in such a way.
            “Why would someone even--” she started to ask, but then answered herself. “Well, I guess with that much gold you don’t really need a why. More of a how…or a why not?” She chuckled and hummed as Devin worked, doing what she could to offer important tidbits to the search. There was time enough for Nualia’s study after they had thoroughly determined the potential of what she had come to think of as The Golden Hallway.
            Devin cautiously approached the pillar, which did not show the bad manners of attacking him in any way. Reaching out with his dagger, he scraped at the golden coins; from this distance, he could see that their edges were carved with tiny, spiky runes, which he recognized as Thassilonian runes of rulership.
            Scraping the gold with his blade produced the sound of metal on metal, but didn't carve any gold off of the oversized coins.
            "It's not really gold," Devin sighed, though he wasn't truly disheartened, as the details had his interest, and it came through in his voice. "It's covered with Thassilonian runes."
            Which he happened to understand, from prior studies, at a passable level. He put his knife away and surveyed the runes. Nualia had clearly happened upon something, here. He wondered what the island may have held before the goblins set up tenancy; what the original purposes of this place were.
            I'Daiin spent his time sitting near Amrynn as she read, or pacing like a caged tiger. Finally he turned to Bergi. "Sandpoint should be informed that much of the danger is passed, yes, but I do not like leaving Thistletop unguarded. There are other tribes of goblins or creatures that would come and claim this place as their own. Let Amrynn stay and read, and I will stand guard. If there is trouble, we will flee. I'll keep Bruthazmus' bow and secure up the battlements."
            "Food? Water?" Devin said.
            “Cousin,I admire your courage,but I’m only talking about leaving for a day and a night and then returning. We have no provisions to leave with you,in any event. But if we pry the gold coins off that pillar we should be able to re-provision and return here stronger. The local tribe has been strong enough to hold THistletop until we arrived and given that we only just defeated them, I doubt any others have had time to hear.” Rhaina moved to the Sklar Quah and laid her hand on his shoulder,eye to eye”We show mercy to the Goblin wives and children and through them we send the message that none will be shown should they try to re-enter the fort. That should give us time to come back. We feed the horse with what grains we can find here and come back with a plan and supplies to get it off here
            Considering the column, Devin paused and furrowed his brow. “Nothing prophetic, admonishing, or instructive – just the seven vices of Thassalonian philosophy,” he announced aloud. “Greed stands out a bit more,” he pointed to the rune indicatively. “Sometimes it’s used to inspire or infer generosity.”
            “Anyone have a gold coin to spare?” Devin grinned. “Or we come back to this, later. If it’s some kind of device or portal, it should be secure enough from goblins.” Devin leaves the gold column puzzle for a future visit. He followed all back to the study.
            Bergi plbbb-flapped her lips in disgust. The only thing worse than no gold was fool’s gold. And now, with their impending return, they had a great many more problems on the agenda.
            “Whose bright idea was it to burn the bridge in the middle?” she asked, knowing full well it was hers. “This has been just messy, nasty business, through and through.” She ran a hand over her face and then straightened her bow a bit, taking a deep breath for encouragement.
            “Okay, we can’t leave the goblins here. Can’t. They would just dig in badger bastard like. But we can’t just toss ‘em off the cliff either.” She paused here, casting a surreptitious and sidelong glance at I’Daiin, hoping the barbarian might fancy the idea. “So, that means we ferry them to the mainland. NOT to Sandpoint, just across the canal to the nettles. Fling ‘em into the thorns and let them sort it out.”
            “I don’t think Horse would much care for the boat ride to Sandpoint either,” she added. “So we ferry him too. First though, we need to get him out of that shed, and I’ll tell you what…I’m not leaving here until we do.” Once she finished her proclamation, she returned to the library to offer her magical sight to anyone looking for valuable salvage.
            "The driftwood. Whole place is built of it. The goblin concubines -- they can sling the children to their backs, climb down the sundered bridge like a ladder most of the way. The south face is sheltered from the waves. With some driftwood pieces to help float, they'll make it to the shore. They can yell to the mainland to ready help before they start crossing, and they can climb."
            "The horse, we can't boat or barge with what we have. Best we can do is get it out to some food and water and leave it to forage for now."
            Books were being collected; magic was being sought. Devin added an appraising eye for elements of particular portable value, tossing them in his pack if he spotted any. They'd need funds, to supply up in Sandpoint.

3


            “Not leaving,” Bergi said simply. “Not until horse is out of his cell and on the mainland.”
            Bergi was standing cliffside, watching the churning waters of morning below. Either the weather was shifting, or the tide was coming in. She didn’t remember the water being this rough on their way in.
            “So we fix the bridge,” she said. “We’ve got a few hundred feet of rope and some climbing gear in the jolly. The Shoanti can work on freeing horse, hack apart the shed if you have to, while the rest of us get to fixing the bridge.”
            She looked around at the less than enthusiastic glances. “Look, we tie rope off on this side of the bridge break,” she explained. “We ferry it over, and the gobbos at the same time if you will, thread it through the break over there, and ferry it back. We haul up the two sides when the Shoanti can join us, and one of us nimble folk shimmies out to tie it off.”
            “I can keep anyone from harm if they fall,” she continued. “Amrynn can zing any interlopers, and we all walk out of here across the boards. Slick as snot through a glass funnel.”
            "You're saying you'd risk all our lives for the horse?" Devin prompted Bergi, his tone level. "Repairing or replacing that bridge is not an afternoon project, not to support a horse, not just to have it panic in the briars. We're out of food and water. Sandpoint is waiting for word."
            “You wouldn’t?” Bergi answered the question with a question. The logistics were irrelevant. What wasn’t irrelevant was the gaze she flicked toward Amrynn. The undertone of that glance was easily read. ‘Careful what kind of man you hitch your wagon to, dear.’
            Rhaina silently agreed with Devin ,but though she felt guilty hearing it she still nodded sadly in agreement. A thought struck her before she spoke “I don’t suppose anyone knows how to shrink the horse.Saw a mage do that once to an Ogre.Positively ruined his day.We would have a lot less trouble with a small horse.
            "Beyond me." Devin said.
            "I like the driftwood idea to get the gobbies off so how about we set about getting to that? We can free the horse to let it forage. Then we send a message with the women that if the horse is harmed before we return; we will hunt down every last goblin within 50 leagues of Sandpoint in payment for it”
            The Shoanti crouches laying a hand on each of the Halfling’s shoulders.”I promise,we will come right back and with a bigger boat.How does that sound my dearest Friend?”
            Bergi smiled and placed a warm hand on Rhaina’s cheek.
            “Sounds like sugar-coated horse murder, dear,” she said. “But you’ve got these folks to look after too. So I understand. Hurry back.”
            She then moved over to Orik. “I’ll release you from your contract if you want to try your luck in town with these folks,” she said. “If you’re staying, grab the rope out of the jollyboat and round up some horsechoppers. You’ll need ‘em to free horse.”
            Bergi was whistling a little tune, fishing Ripnugget’s keys out of her pocket, “I’m going to check the few hidey-holes left up here for some grub. We’ll manage the gobbos after.” She was twirling the keyring on her finger as she made move to head back into the fort.
            "This is stupid," said the Shoanti barbarian, standing tall. "Horses can swim. And quite well, too. It's a brief distance to the mainland, and I and the horse can swim across. As for the goblins, they can not swim across. Box them in and we'll deal with them later."
            I'Daiin crossed his mighty arms with finality. "Bergi, I'll help you free the horse." He began grumbling low under his breath in Shoanti, something about Varisian lowlanders.
            "I think we need to just withdraw for now and get information back to Sandpoint. Bergi, if you feel it necessary to stay then no one can stop you. However, the great good must be considered here. The town needs the information we can provide and perhaps with the goblins scattered, another force can be mustered to drive them out of the area and allow Thistletop to be reclaimed properly. Regardless, we don't have the resources nor time to get horses and goblin concubines and babies across the chasm."
            Looking to the others, the cleric rubs his neck and says, "I am sore and tired and need a bath and a good meal. Let those of us who are going get on the boat and start rowing." With that being said, Durriken begins to make his way to the where the party left the boat.
            Devin couldn't agree with staying behind for the sake of the horse, but he recognized that there was an advantage in having a few of the party remain on the island to keep it secure and minded. Until he and the others returned from Sandpoint, though, they'd be effectively trapped on the islet.
            "We'll return via the road. No more than four days," he estimated both uneasily and uncertainly; it was a long time to survive on little to no fresh water, and an equal scarcity of food. Devin took off his pack and knelt by it to retrieve a robust steel canteen in a leather sling. He offered it to Bergi. "It's empty, but if it rains, maybe you can fill it." He also gave over the remaining length of his silk rope.
            They'd be rowing for a while; Devin took off the scavenged magical doghide armor they'd found and changed into a light shirt and breeches. He packed up the doghide armor onto his now-overflowing pack (considering it already had his boiled leather armor strapped to it, too), knowing it'd likely fetch some reasonable proceeds in town, and that neither I'Daiin, Bergi, nor Orik would care to use it in the interim.
            Devin shouldered his pack and made to follow Durriken carefully down the rock path.
            “It doesn’t make any sense.How could the goblins live here without water? They must have some stored here. Orik ,you were here for a while ;where did you get water from?” Rhaina said.
            Orik shrugged. "Lyrie would bring it up from below. I thought there was a spring or something down there."
            Rhaina paced while she thought. “And both Lyrie and Nualia would need food and water.Let’s search their quarters again” She knelt to speak with her diminutive friend”Bergi I would give my life for you or any one here. Maybe it’s my barbarian upbringing;I’ve eaten horsemeat during lean times so I guess I don’t have your compassion. You be safe now,Hmmn?” with that she pulled the Bard into a fierce embrace.”I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt when I could have been here to protect you” She let’s go and Bergi can see her effort to hold back tears as she stands and turns to leave;her waterskin on the floor next to the halfling.
            She stops”Father Durriken.Can’t Clerics create food and water?
            Preoccupied with the thoughts of leaving this wretched place, Durriken was startled as Rhaina's request at first but recovered quickly, "Yes, I do have a spell I can use. We need to get something to collect the water in but I should be able to provide clean water for a while at least. Sorry, I don't have the ability to make any food, unfortunately."
            Once some receptacles were gathered, Durriken uttered an incantation invoking the power of Pharasma. Instantly, water filled the available containers with clear, cool water.
            As Rhaina turns to follow Devin and Durriken she takes one last look back to see if Amrynn is following as well.
            As they get into the boat she heals each of the rowers; removing their fatigue “Let’s get going shall we?”

4


            Bergi, Orik and I'Daiin finally managed to pry the heavily nailed planks off the shed with hard work, muscle and uninterrupted instruction from Bergi. The horse was magnificent, even with its dusty black hide covered with scratches and the animal half-dead from lack of food and water. It pushed past them into the goblins' yard, snorting and trotting about briefly before its energy flagged, and it stood watching them suspiciously.
            “Ohhhh, look at him!” Bergi squealed, clapping and dancing a quick circle before flinging herself first around I’Daiin’s calf and then around Orik’s in gratitude.
            “I know, big boy, just take it easy,” she said to the horse keeping a respectful distance. “We’ll get you cleaned up and fed. We’re hungry too. Just hang in there.”
            “Alright. Let’s give him some time,” she said to her comrades. “We need to pick this place clean for anything useful or edible. Let’s start topside and we’ll work our way down…if necessary.”
            Going back to the other door in the goblin fort that had been heavily nailed shut, Bergi, I'Daiin and Orik were assaulted by the quite strong stink of vinegar. It looked like it would take quite some work to open the door.
            “Guh!” Bergi grunted. “What is it with goblins and nailing doors shut up here?!” She had had her fill of fighting with the sealed portal. Vinegar? What could they be sealing away that smelled like vinegar? The thought of the sour liquid made Bergi recollect the prisoners below. Again. She had been avoiding dealing with them. With a sigh, she resolved herself to the next task.
            “Alright, let’s leave this for now,” she said. “We need to take some of this water to the goblins below. Maybe they know what’s behind this door…or where some food is.” Bergi didn’t sound hopeful but she trudged off none the less, having Orik carry the bucket of water while she carried the ladle. Once there, she had him untie one of the females. Bergi offered her a ladle full of water and spoke to her while she drank.
            <“Mind now, take it slow,”> she said in the goblin tongue. <“Behave, and no harm will come to you. Now, do you know where they kept any food here in the fort?”>
            The pointless interrogations went on for some time as the females were untied, offered some water and then herded into the nursery. The heroes waited while all manner of goblin mothering went on around them, supplying small rations of water as needed…to a point.
            The concubines grabbed the hungry babies in the cages, but it looked more like they were using them as shields or for sympathy than as though they were caring for them. The babies continued to scream with hunger, biting the concubines, who smacked them for their trouble.
            “What do you think about putting them in the goblin boat?” Bergi asked her male counterparts, having retired to the upper level after seeing to it that the concubines and their young couldn't escape.
            “No, wait, that’s been smashed to pieces,” Bergi said, glancing sidelong at I’Daiin and then rubbing her forehead. “Ugh, so hungry. Okay, either we need to get that door open to the…vinegar pantry…” she suppressed a shiver, “…or we fall on those poor rabbits.”
            “Alright, let’s lash together some wood from the boat and some driftwood,” she said. “Sizable enough to manage the worst of the surf. I’Daiin, do you think you can floaty swim over with the goblins on the raft to the mainland? We need to get a line over there one way or another.”
            When I'Daiin didn't immediately answer, Orik cleared his throat. "I don't know if it's a good idea to head over to the mainland alone. The gobs are bound to see you coming. If your friends are coming back through the nettles, once they've scared off the goblins, we can just tie a rope to an arrow and fire it into the thicket. Then you can use the rope to send over whatever needs sending to raise a new bridge. Though it'd work better with a longer rope."
            He shrugged. "Whatever you want to do, we'll do better with a full stomach. Meaty here can try and pull down the nailed planks, maybe, unless you have a better idea. Get us some grub. Probably grain we can use for the horse, too. The goblins weren't picky with what they stole, they just grabbed anything from the merchants passing through."
            He looked down at Bergi solemnly. "Before any of that, though, we should bring Lyrie up. Prepare her for burial." His face was a mask, but Bergi still thought there was some kind of emotion lurking in his eyes.
            Bergi glanced at Orik. She held his gaze for a moment before speaking.
            “You’re doing better, Orik, better than I expected in truth. You’re starting to sound like a man again, not just a soulless sell-sword,” she said. “But keep broadening those horizons for me, if you would, ‘cause the only reason ol’ ‘meaty’ here hasn’t ripped your arms from their sockets is as a favor to me.”
            She paused, making sure the mercenary understood how serious she was. “But even my favor has limits,” she said. “If I’Daiin decides it’s your time to stop breathing, there’s really nothing I can do to stop him. Best keep that in mind.”
            "I see." What emotion might have lurked there had vanished from Orik's eyes, and his voice. He regarded the two, stone-faced.
            Bergi slapped the Shoanti on the thigh in good spirits. “But he does make some good points,” she said to I’Daiin, then turned her attention back to Orik. “You do, and I appreciate that. We have to put some faith in our comrades that they will return swiftly. And we have to get through that pantry door for food. But first, because we can see that it means something to you, we can bring Lyrie up from below and pay her some respect.”
            "Meaty. hah." I'Daiin grinned at the mercenary. "I can swim across. We have a bridge to fix. Or, didn't the goblins have the ability to climb those cliffs? Perhaps we can make a rope conveyance across. Something to slide across, in a basket."
            The Shoanti's face grew dour. "Everything that was slain down there should be buried or burned, or tossed into a deep pit. --I didn't mean Lyrie, Orik."
            He looked at the pantry. "Yes, this can be opened, and even delicately." I'Daiin set about prising the wood. Then he paused. "Bergi. Do any monsters smell like vinegar? Why don't we eat a rabbit first and ponder this. I have no desire to unleash some acrid-stinking dragon-octopus on an empty stomach."
            After Bergi had assured the big Shoanti that she wasn't familiar with any monsters that smelled of vinegar before they'd been pickled, I'Daiin worked at freeing the door from the planks nailed over it. Given time and effort, they bent to his will, and they opened the door to find a room stocked with the food Orik had promised. The room was half-filled with crates, barrels, and large sacks of grain. A small hole had been chopped into the lower side of one of the barrels, allowing pickles and brine to drain out, giving the room its singular stink.
            Crates of apples, cheeses either on their way to or from Riddleport, various vegetables, and other fare were revealed in the storeroom along with the pickles.

5


            Those who left made it back to town that night without incident. The townsfolk were happy to see them, and looked on curiously as they wearily climbed onto the pier and returned to the Rusty Dragon for a meal and sleep.
            Before heading to bed Rhaina enjoyed a brief bath and asked Ameiko to arrange for a meeting with the Mayor and Town Council for first thing in the morning “Don’t worry.It’s good news but I’d like to deliver it to them together. We need to go back as some stayed behind”
            She gave Ameiko a quick hug”Can you wake us an hour before the meeting?And I may need your assistance in the morning , selling this bow we obtained. Need some gold for expenses before we go back. G’Night” And with that the Paladin trundled wearily off to bed
            As weary as he was after participating in the rowing back to Sandpoint, the knowledge that Bergi and I'Daiin -- and Bergi's charge, Orik -- were all still back on the island, short on food and water -- preoccupied Devin and overshadowed his actions. Whereas he'd normally be relieved and happy to be back in town, able to relax, he maintained a sense of silent, efficient urgency. Short-won but profound, trusted friends were in short supply in his life, and something he now knew to value.
            A small workforce contingent, able to gather supplies and follow soon, to travel the road, path the briars, rebuild the bridge. Set Thistletop as an outpost of Sandpoint, that it not so easily be used for ill purposes again until the area stabilized. Casks of water, travel foods; a means to cast a line across the sundered bridge as a temporary ropeway. Mounts; a prompt return, ahead of the workforce, to get food and water to the three and get the goblin harem and infants off the island. Too much to do, and it preoccupied him in a withdrawn silence.
            He was frustrated that the hour was so late, that little gain could be made on these necessities before dawn. He ate meal and drank his fill of utilitarian necessity, only belatedly realizing his somber mood's impacts. He offered an apologetic smile to Amrynn, and to Rhaina, and to Durriken, certain they were likely feeling much of the same tension. "I intend to be up and around by dawn, helping make what arrangements we can. Then I hope we are back upon the road to Thistletop by tomorrow afternoon. Short of reporting, returning with what supplies we can, and arranging for the bridge's repair, is there anything else we /must/ do?"
            As Rhaina deftly recruited Ameiko as a seller's agent, Devin added in the suit of magical doghide armor to the consideration of equipment to be liquidated. It had served its purpose; now its greater worth lie in what aid it could purchase.
            "I need to order and clean my gear, to be ready for us all to quickly travel again," Devin spoke with Amrynn. He knew his own mind, and he could not succumb to exhaustion until any due preparations he was able to make tonight were seen to. "Then myself. You, too?" he asked, though the question was a considerate preface for what he wished to say next.
            "The moment I can permit, I'm going to fall fast asleep. I need rest; we all do. I ask," and it was clear it truly was a request, not a presumption, not an imperative, "that you not take a separate room." For all the risk that it might prompt, his hope was his own comfort, not romantic, not this night. For all that had happened in the last several days, he knew that sleep would elude him were he in a room alone with his thoughts, and he'd be of little use to anyone on the morrow.
            A whirlwind had almost consumed them between sunrise and sunset. A single day that had felt like a year, compressed into one smothering assault. Amrynn was glad to be clear of the stench of Thistletop, but they had left no small part of themselves behind in the aftermath. Her heart ached with the separation.
            She smiled and placed a delicate hand along Devin’s cheek when they finally shared a quiet moment. Just as quickly she snatched the hand away in pain. Blisters laced her palms from the rowing of the day, for she had taken her fair turn at the oars. She would not have had it any other way, demanded it even. The burning was only a reminder of their commitment, of the reality of their shared journey.
            She flung her arms around Devin instead, squeezing him fiercely.
            “Only if you promise not to let go,” she said. “And that this tide will not sweep us away.” She held him in quiet solitude, merging their strength, their wills to carry on. Deep, even breaths leveled out as the anxiety of the day drained away. She pulled away and met his gaze.
            “This was a bit more than I signed on for,” she said with a wry twist of her mouth. “But I cannot imagine a day spent toward better purpose.”
            She glanced at the table nearby, piled with books and scrolls, new to them both. So few hours in the day. How could she read it all in a single night and do it justice?
            “I will stay,” Amrynn said to Devin. “But I should read a bit while the candle still burns.”
            Devin kissed her forehead and rested there a moment with her but a moment longer, in silent concurrence. He then rose and set to unpacking and reordering his gear; only so recently acquired and outfitted; confirm all was in proper readiness for the day ahead; for one, he would need more rope. He confined his activity to a reasonably constrained area of the room that he not take over all the space and intrude upon Amrynn's space needed to review Nualia's journals.
            Finally, with blades honed and oiled and armor and gear attended, wearing the only tunic and breeches he owned, Devin draped one his belts over the frame of the simple bed, that his sheathed shortsword would be quickly within reach on the side away from the room's door. He kept a second belted dagger with him on his person.
            "Back soon," he promised; as soon as he could wash the grime and grit from himself and what he wore using the inn's or town's facilities.

6


            After a long row back to Sandpoint, Durriken was more than ready for the warm and comfort of the Rusty Dragon Inn. Wearily, he followed the others into the establishment and ordered a hot meal and a mug of mead to wash it down. He took up a place by the fireplace and eat slowly almost half asleep as the fire's flames mesmerized his tired mind. Finally finishing his meal he bid the others good night, noting that the meeting with the Sandpoint officials would be in the morning. He requested a hot bath be set up in his room and went up to wait for it.
            One he was in the room, he took off his armour and other gear, stowing it in the corner. He removed his robes inspecting them for damage and noted a few spots that would need mending. He pulled a sewing kit from his pack and set about patching the holes until the hot water arrived for his bath. Thanking the deliverer he closed his door and stripped off his undergarments and slid into the warm water. He draped his arms over the sides and felt the warm water sooth his aches and muscle knots away. He remained in the tub until it started to turn cold then got out and dried off. He pulled a fresh set of clothing from his pack and momentarily thought of cleaning his gear. He quickly discarded this idea and flopped onto the bed. He barely managed to pull the covers over himself before he was fast asleep.

7


            Devin returned without incident, considerably more himself and olfactorily tolerable, placed the dagger with his other gear, shucked his tunic to rest over his gear, and took to the bed. His hand felt by clear habit to ensure the shortsword's hilt was within easy, natural reach. He shifted to be able to behold Amrynn in the candlelight as he settled... but true to his expectations, within minutes his lids fell closed to what rest could be gained.
            As the hours passed, Amrynn became absorbed in the notes and journals that Nualia had left behind. Not only Nualia's twisted plans were recorded there, but her sordid history, as well.


            She was a foundling raised by Sandpoint’s previous religious leader, a man named Ezakien Tobyn, and her childhood was lonely and sad. Her unearthly beauty made the other children either jealous or shy, and many of them took to playing cruel jokes on her. The adults in town weren’t much better—many of the superstitious Varisians viewed Nualia as blessed by Desna, a sort of “reverse deformity.” Rumors that her touch or proximity could cure warts and rashes, that locks of her hair brewed into tea could increase fertility, and that her voice could drive out evil spirits led to a succession of awkward and humiliating requests over the years. Poor Nualia felt more like a freak than a young girl by the time she came of age, so when Delek Viskanta, a local Varisian youth, began to court her, she practically fell into his arms in gratitude.
            Knowing her father wouldn’t approve of a relationship with a Varisian (he wanted her to remain pure so she could join a prestigious convent), they kept the affair secret. The couple met many times in hidden places, a favorite being an abandoned smuggler’s tunnel under town that Delek had discovered as a child. Before long, Nualia realized she was pregnant. When she told Delek, he revealed his true colors and, after calling her a slut and a harlot, fled Sandpoint rather than face her father’s wrath. Nualia’s shock quickly turned to rage, yet she had nowhere to vent her anger. She bottled it up, and when her father discovered her delicate condition, his reaction to her indiscretions only furthered her shame and anger. He forbade her to leave the church, lectured her nightly, and made her pray to Desna for forgiveness. In so doing, he unknowingly nurtured her growing hate.
            Seven months pregnant, she miscarried her child, a child whose monstrously deformed shape she only glimpsed before blanching midwives stole it away to burn it in secret. As the child had been conceived in the smuggler’s tunnels below town, in close proximity to a hidden shrine to Lamashtu (the goddess of monstrous births), the child itself was deformed and horrific. The double shock of losing a child and the realization she had been carrying a fiend in her belly for 7 months was too much. Nualia fell into a coma.
            As Nualia slept, she dreamed unhealthy dreams. Fueled by the wrath from below and the taint of Lamashtu, Nualia became further obsessed with the cruel demon goddess and the conviction that her wretched life was inflicted on her by those around her. She came to see her angelic heritage as a curse, and the demon-sent nightmares showed her how to expunge this taint from her body and soul, replacing it with chaos and cruelty. When she finally woke, Nualia was someone new, someone who didn’t flinch at what Lamashtu asked of her. She jammed her father’s door shut as he slept, lit the church on fire, and fled Sandpoint.
            The locals assumed Nualia had burned in the fire, a tragedy made all the worse by the death of Father Tobyn as well. Yet Nualia lived. She fled to Magnimar, where she enlisted the aid of a group of Norgorber-worshiping killers known as the Skinsaw Cult. With their aid, she tracked down Delek and murdered him. Yet his death did not fill her need for revenge—it only quickened her need for more of the same, for Sandpoint and its hated citizens still lived.
            Seeing a kindred spirit in the tortured woman, the mysterious leader of the Skinsaw Cult gave Nualia a medallion bearing a carving of a seven-pointed star. Nualia learned that she had a larger role to play, and that her dreams were a map to her destiny. Taking the advice to heart, Nualia returned to Sandpoint and found herself drawn to the brick wall in the smuggler’s tunnels where she and Delek had conceived her deformed child. Nualia bashed down the wall, and in so doing, discovered the catacombs and the quasit Erylium, also a follower of Lamashtu. For many months, Nualia studied under Erylium’s tutelage.
            During this time, Nualia received another vision from Lamashtu—a vision of a monstrous goblin wolf imprisoned in an underground room. In Nualia’s dreams, she learned that this creature, a barghest named Malfeshnekor, was also one of Lamashtu’s chosen. If she could find him and free him, he would not only help her achieve her vengeance against the town of Sandpoint, but he would be the key in cleansing her body of what she had come to see as her “celestial taint.” Nualia wanted to be one of Lamashtu’s children now. She wanted to become a monster herself.
            The sad details of her life didn't end there, several years ago. The journals also outlined her plans to send an army of goblins against Sandpoint and burn the town to the ground, not only to offer it all as a burnt offering to Lamashtu in hopes of being made a half-fiend, but also to fuel something she called a runewell in the catacombs below. The notes went on to detail how to cause some kind of monster she named sinspawn to manifest from the runewell - apparently, all it took was blood spilled in the boiling, icy water - and she claimed that if someone were to overextend the runewell's stores, it would be deactivated. Nualia wasn't sure how to reactivate it, and stressed several times that the runewell shouldn't be used much until after Sandpoint was razed, and the deaths of hundreds of angry citizens and goblins had refilled the well.
            It seemed the party had thwarted more than a simple raid on Sandpoint.

8


            “Bythegodsthesearethebestpicklesever,” Bergi prattled through a mouthful of brine. As she munched heartily and rounded up whatever was easiest for her to transport, she first felt and then noticed the stony resolve once more surrounding Orik. The diminutive halfling sighed a bit and regrouped, hopping up on a nearby sack of grain and then an adjacent barrel to address the mercenary.
            “Okay, Orik, look,” she said. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I don’t, really. But you were working for some really bad guys. Really bad. Like, murder-everyone-in-Sandpoint bad. Now, you might be able to sleep at night knowing something like that, but that’s on you. We all have our own demons to shuffle.”
            "Man's gotta eat," Orik grunted laconically, leaning against the doorframe.
            She offered him a pickle. “I’m just trying to get you to skinny that if you want to make it to your next paying job,” she continued. “You can’t be all cross and cavalier. The folks in Sandpoint are going to want your hide. I’m trying to keep you alive, here and there. Because I believe you have something better to offer. But that’s on me, ‘cause that’s the way I am. I’m just hoping you won’t prove me wrong.”
            Bergi offered him an encouraging smile. “So waddaya say? Will you help me feed some goblin refugees, rescue a war torn horse, and face the worst of what Sandpoint has to offer, together?”
            "Seems to me that the only way the good people of Sandpoint would want my hide is if you told them I was here," Orik pointed out, taking the pickle. He regarded her with a level gaze as he ate it. "You planning on doing that?" Bergi noticed that he couldn't help but glance at Lyrie's body, carefully wrapped in her very fine, if bloodstained, cloak.
            “Nope, because that bell’s already been rung,” Bergi replied. “Don’t remember who exactly, but when you were still arming for the wrong side, your name was thrown about in town to see if anyone knew anything about you.”
            The halfling held up a calming hand toward the dark look Orik gave her and said, “Though if Rhaina’s half the lady I think she is, she’s likely working to change that tune even as we speak.”
            “Still, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right?” Bergi parroted Orik’s own simple philosophy back to him, then added, “Wrong. That’s what I’m trying to get you to see. Sure, you could light out of here whenever you liked and take your chances. Relocate. I can’t stop you, we both know that, but mind, I can’t speak for everyone else.”
            “But do you want to be that guy?” she asked. “With his face on paper everywhere with a reward stamped under it? Is that a life worth living?”
            She shook her head in the brief silence that followed. “Or,” she said. “You could stay and face what comes. I said I’d help you with that, and I will. Then you could walk away clean and on your own terms.”
            “Okay, I’m done preachin’,” she said with a sigh. “For now. You’ll listen to your heart, just like we all do. I know that. All I’m asking is that you look at your options and listen to those that have offered to help as well. You know, like me, Bergi, the one who’s saved your life…twice.”
            She shrugged her hands into the air and gave him that knowing smile that told him the decision was ultimately up to him as she prepared to continue about the tasks of the day.
            Orik ate his pickle in silence, watching Bergi go about her preparations with hooded eyes.

9


            The horse was understandably suspicious when they approached it again, but at the offer of food, the starved animal immediately became more friendly. Soon, it was munching away at a bag of grain near Bergi, its ribs showing in testimony to how long it had been starved.
            Nearby, the corpses of the two goblins its hooves had crushed lay in mute testimony to its spirited soul and possibly war-trained nature.
            I'Daiin took note of the horse's frame. "This is a good horse," he said thoughtfully. "Bergi! Let me help you get this horse back to fighting weight. It may take a while..." I'Daiin rubbed his chin, noting some stubble, and made a mental note to take care of that with his kukri. Shoanti warrior customs had been difficult to enact during the last few days. He paced about, gathering up ashes for a good bath--well, a good bath by the Cinderlands standards.
            After performing his various rituals, with a more gleaming head and face, I'Daiin was back with the horse, feeding it by hand if he could. "Good, good. What is your name, friend?" He took care not to lose a finger from the hungry beast.
            The horse, of course, didn't answer, but he seemed to have accepted that the three non-goblins meant him no harm, and allowed I'Daiin to hand-feed him (though thanks to his sheer hunger, I'Daiin was wise to offer the food on a flat palm).
            After eating a prodigious amount, the horse seemed much more docile, moving slowly about the dusty goblin yard at I'Daiin's command as it digested its meal. The Shoanti was now quite certain that the beast was war-trained, though he remained in terrible condition from his treatment at the hands of the goblins. Chances were that he had been near death when Bergi found him.

10


            The goblins proved... well, goblinish about the food the three brought them. The concubines fell on it like starved animals, stuffing their faces as well as they could while fighting over who got what. The goblin babes had to fend for themselves, sneaking what morsels they could from the adults.
            The lot of it was gone in a trice, and the goblins stared at the three in the doorway with hungry red eyes. Orik held his sharp bastard sword ready in warning, and none of them tried to escape. Even the goblin babies watched him with a knowledge of mortality beyond their short time on this earth.

11


            Late the next morning, Ameiko alerted the party that the meeting with Mayor Deverin had been scheduled. At morning meal, at hearing what Amrynn had learned from Nualia's journals, Devin was discomfited. Did Sandpoint make Nualia what she was? What was the history of the town, such that there was a temple to Lamashtu and a quasit lairing just beneath it?
            "The dark temple, the quasit Nualia writes about, and the barghest, and the runewell... are these things you've already found?" Devin had to ask Rhaina and Durriken, though the quasit and barghest might be several years gone, and the runewell only just now discovered from the journals, and Rhaina for one was nearly as new to Sandpoint as was Devin. Maybe Bergi would know.
            When the party arrived at the Town Hall, they were shortly led in to the mayor's office, where she and Sheriff Hemlock were waiting.
            "I'm glad you've returned, though I hope nothing has happened to Bergi or I'Daiin?" Mayor Deverin asked with concern.
            When they had assured her that the two were alive and well, Sheriff Hemlock got right to the point. "What news do you bring of the planned raid on Sandpoint?"
            "Thwarted. We broke the goblins' hold on Thistletop, and we broke Nualia's hold on the goblins." Devin paused, expecting a spark of recognition at Nualia's name from either the mayor or the sheriff, if they'd been in Sandpoint more than a few years.
            The Mayor and the Sheriff exchanged glances at the name, but didn't interrupt.
            "There's more to do, there, and then more to do, here. We need your help, and some men, to cut a path through the thicket at Thistletop's shore, rebuild a suspended bridge, and take hold of the fort for a time so it doesn't quickly become a resurgent threat to Sandpoint. We haven't cleared out all its catacombs, but we need to return with food, and water, and supplies, to finish the job for you."
            Mayor Deverin nodded, but held up a hand. "Since we already gave you what discretionary funds Sandpoint has, I'll have to negotiate with the carpenters' Guildmaster and the nobles of the Mercantile League for the necessary workforce and materials. Can you guarantee the workers' safety while they work? I know that will be a key point in the negotiations."
            She sighed wearily. "It may take a few days to arrange. I wish I could promise more, but politics must always be managed delicately. Ven Vinder's support could help with gaining the Guildmaster's, though. Ven is very well esteemed."
            Rhaina waited for Devin to finish and if she felt that he stepped on her prerogative,nothing showed on her lovely face “Thank you Devin”
            Devin wondered if he'd just been thanked for the terse report, or placated and dismissed. He held his peace, though he was keenly aware of the precious spend of daylight outside. Rhaina knew the town better and was certainly more smoothly-spoken. He folded his arms as much to occupy his hands as pause his urgency. There were elements of diplomacy for which he often had little mind.
            To put this is terms of threats to Sandpoint,I believe that they are dealt with. Nualia was the force driving the entire plot against Sandpoint. She and her allies are destroyed,in so far as we have ventured and I believe the goblin threat to be largely weakened. We now hold Thistletop.!
            Bergi has also managed to convince a mercenary named Orik Vancaskerkin to join us and his sword was of great help in clearing out the worst of the threats. As a Paladin I tell you this so you understand that I trust the man and feel that if he is looking for work,that you might find him to be reliable,within certain limits of course.
            As to Thistletop we will need to get back in with some provisions .On the way we hope to determine the continued threat to the town from the goblins and perhaps persuade them to leave the area. For me,I would like to get back as soon as we can.A fishing boat could take us much closer than before,thus speeding our return and we could then arrange a timetable for it’s return
            We need to discuss this of course but I am uncertain as to how we could rebuild the bridge in a short enough time so as to not leave our comrades without food and water for too long. Mayor,do you or the council have any questions?”
            With arms still crossed, Devin answered the mayor's initial inquiries, leaning in slightly in a slight deferential bow intended for both the mayor and Rhaina, "Guarantee their safety, with certainty? No. But if they've got a mind to put their backs together and pull blades out while we work to put down any new threats, they'll be fine. The goblins' spines are broken for now; helping put a hold on Thistletop'll keep it that way."
            "Rhaina, if you're inclined, would you talk with Ven Vinder, try to win the guild? I'm ill-suited for it, and with honesty, I'm in haste to be back to the road with what rope, food, and water I can quickly gather for them. And maybe half a bale for the horse, too. I'm all for the boat," Devin acknowledged Rhaina's request of a fishing vessel; such a boat might even carry the horse, if they could get it down from the top of the island, "though the road seems as if it'd be faster to get them food."
            “I’m not so sure.Pretty tough carrying supplies through the thickets,with Goblins in the way. Rhaina said. While we’re gone we ask the local craftmen to build the rope bridge here and then we go ahead of them to take out the goblins We’re not gonna get them interested in going until we’ve dealt with all the threats The locals are spooked by the Gobbies,so we give them a task that they can do here and we transport it in sections once it’s done All we need do then is have people on both sides,and using block and tackles lift it into place
            Here is my thought. We sell the bow and armor and get as much of the supplies onto a quick fishing boat along with our boat. They can sail almost right up to it. We offload and hump the stuff up. We feed and ask Durriken to heal the horse and try Bergi’s idea of taking it down,perhaps with some rope and her Feather fall spell”
            "Well-reasoned," Devin conceded. "The horse may need to stay on the island until the bridge is repaired and the thickets cleared," Devin couldn't imagine a boat of sufficient size having an owner willing to risk having it dashed on the island's rocks, "but we can get there with food and supplies and rope. A sailing vessel that can tow the rowboat will get us there faster, without risking the larger boat."
            “Thank you.I don’t envision asking the boat to remain,but return on a pre determined schedule for us to meet it. Rhaina said. I hope they can build the bridge sections and bring them to us then. Should give us a couple of days to scour the remaining levels and who knows there may be a water level exit somewhere below.. No such thing as a perfect plan but ,you’re correct Devin;we do need to get back to our friends as soon as possible.
            I am going to the docks .The Hagfish hero should be able to make the boat arrangements and then I’ll meet Ameiko to see if we have funds to buy supplies and at least partly pay for the bridge. Durriken,I want you to go to the temple and find out all you can on what the hell a Barghest is.OK? Also ask if he has any useful potions or anything else he feels might help. Amrynn.I need some Mage armor potions.Used all mine up.Can you find out if they have any in stock Can’t imagine he would have any wands and right now I don’t know how much funds we have,but you would be the best judge of the usefulness of the wands you got from Thistletop and perhaps a trade for something we really need might be in the works and Devin,get the supplies together and see if we can also get any Cold Iron arrows,or any other useful weapons that might work against a demon Questions?
            Mayor Deverin raised a hand to calm the flurry of the discourse. "It sounds as though you mean for a large, stable bridge to be built. Such a thing would be expensive, and take some time to complete. Surely the goblins had no such thing? I imagine they had a rope bridge, at best. Is that sufficient for your needs? I believe I could negotiate that, if you were to see to it that the workers need not fear a goblin raid. It may be easy for you, as adventurers, to forget, but few townsfolk are willing to risk their very lives for mere gold, and fewer yet have the ability required. Not," she amended with an apologetic smile, "that you fit that particular bill. Breaking the goblins' hold on the hinterlands would be a boon indeed. But competence with a sword is beyond most of us who do not train under Sheriff Hemlock's guidance, and the town guard is needed here, to... well, to guard the town."
            She stood, giving them a tired, but determined, smile. "I will call the Guildmaster and the nobles to meet with me. If you can give me the assurances I requested, I'll see it done. Don't let me take up any more of your time. If time is of the essence, I understand that you must go."
            “Thank you Mayor Deverin.We do plan to do our utmost to drive the goblins away.As of right now their numbers are much less than they were at the time they raided and without the hatred of Nualia driving them I believe that the town is safe for the time being. Rhaina said. We are hoping to leverage them out of this area by promising to return their women and children still on THistltop. Once we have cleared the lower levels we would be in a better position to give you an estimate on how long it would take to deal with the goblins, once and for all.
            As to the bridge, that is a complicated issue as Bergi remains adamant that we rescue the horse, so the rope bridge could be employed providing it could handle the weight of the animal. Thank you for your time.”
            Rhaina heads for the Hagfish to talk with the owner as to whose boat might be available soonest and assure him, and the captains that it would be a safe journey She will locate Ameiko and see if she has had any luck
            "If I'll be out gathering supplies, I can try to sell the bow and the armor," Devin offered to Rhaina. "Though you know the town better, and have the charm; your option."
            With Rhaina off to attend to transport options, Devin set to gathering supplies -- though first, he'd need coin from the proceeds. If Rhaina hadn't opted to try her hand at selling the bow and the armor, Devin endeavored to set out to find interested merchants for both pieces.

12


            The Farmer's Market was in full swing by noon, hawkers peddling groceries from myriad carts as Rhaina made her way through the market and fishmarket, heading for the Hagfish. She was met there with roars of approval, and many an invitation to come sit with the sailors gathered there, to dice, dart and drink, and listen to the old-timers yarning. Jargie Quinn himself stumped out on his pegleg to greet Rhaina with his arms thrown up.
            "Well, if it ain't the one an' only Rhaina, everyone!" He pointed up to the rafter where her name was carved, for those who didn't know her. "What brings ye to the Hagfish, lass? Here to have another go at Norah's tank?" This was met by widespread good humor, and Rhaina could see that the pouch of silver was hanging on its hook behind the bar, though nowhere near as full as last time.
            “She smiled at the good hearted welcome she received and even made a few mock bows,to thank her many admirers” She allowed them to quiet some and then motioned them to be still”Thank you very much. No Jargie,not today.
            As many of you know, I am with the group that is fighting the goblins of Thistletop. Yesterday we dealt with those who sent the Goblins here, and we believe that the threat to you homes, is likely over,...BUT! Some of us came here for some supplies while the rest; Bergi and I’Daiin amongst them, remained behind. We need to return to root out any further threats beneath Thistletop, and we have need of haste. We rowed back yesterday,slept and the others are getting the food and other supplies we require. We need your help. The threat to any boat coming near is gone and we cannot return quickly enough in our Jolly boat. Which captain here will be included in the tales of the Heroes of Sandpoint. by getting us back there swiftly?
            I ask you as a Paladin and as the leader of the Heroes. I ask you also as the Hagfish Hero. Will you help us?
            A murmur rose among the gathered sailors, and quickly enough some of them rose.
            "I'll help ya!"
            "Me too!"
            "You can take me anywhere!" This was followed by a round of laughter.
            "With what ship?" One of the men rose, and the sailors looked a bit sheepish. The man turned to Rhaina and said kindly, "What you're lookin' fer isn't a lot o' sailors to help, it's a captain. And you're in luck! For a captain, well, that'd be me." He grinned, and a few of the sailors cheered.
            "I'll fish the waters o' the Varisian Bay, and take you where you're goin' to boot. Captain Strunck, Hero of Sandpoint... it has a nice ring to it, eh?" He raised his hands, looking at the crowd, and more sailors cheered and laughed.
            "We'll head out in two days' time, bright an' early," Captain Strunck called after Rhaina as she left. "Don't be forgettin'! Tha Sandpoint Sharkfish!"
            “Thank you all! We need to depart as soon as possible after we have provisioned.” Rhaina went in search of Amrynn, Devin and Durriken.

13


            Asking for directions now and again, Amrynn made her way down along the Turandarok River (hurrying past the tannery) to a quaint little store on Rum Street, the plaquard outside proclaiming it to be The Feathered Serpent. Inside, it was cluttered with all manner of strange relics (some of them, to her eye, clearly magical), fetishes, monument fragments, and small statues. It smelled of dust, incense, and exotic spices.
            "Ho there!" At first, Amrynn thought the man who hailed her was a gnome, if an exceedingly large one. Six feet tall, the proprietor had long red hair, bright blue eyes, and skin the tone of copper, freshly burnished. He came out to clasp her hand, pumping it enthusiastically. "New to the Serpent, are you? I'd recall seeing someone so lovely before, ha ha! My name is Vorvashali Voon! Please, have a look around! These are artifacts from the far-off Mwangi Expanse, and as you'll see..." Voon began to recount the histories and legends surrounding his many prizes, with such pride of ownership that it wasn't clear if he was trying to sell them, or simply showing them off.
            Amrynn allowed the proprietor his vigorous introduction before returning her own, once released. She bowed graciously and said, “Amrynn Gamirdren. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Saer Voon.”
            She swung her gaze about the shop once more and said, “You have a delicious assortment here. Truly a sight for wandering eyes. I have been informed, as a practitioner, that you may possess some goods or services that I desire.”
            Moving to the exchange table, Amrynn fished amidst her belongings and set a variety of items upon the counter for inspection. A wand, alone, and five expertly rolled pieces of parchment were arrayed in a semi-circle, demarcated as a triplet and a pair.
            “In working with the Heroes of Sandpoint, I have come across some items which may be of more value to you, than to us,” Amrynn said, waving her long fingers over the items. “The wand and these three scrolls are known to me. The other two scrolls escape me, as of yet.”
            She flashed a coy half-smile at the proprietor and said, “I throw myself upon your mercy for bargaining, but I do seek some items in particular. Among them, scrolls of Make Whole or Defoliate and a wand of Mage Armor, if you have one.”
            "The Heroes of Sandpoint, you say? A real shame, what happened to Andok. A real shame," Voon said, his ebullience briefly lidded as he spoke of the dead Hero. It quickly resurfaced as he examined the sets of items Amrynn had laid forth. He hemmed and hawed, holding the scrolls up to let what light entered the stuffy little shop shine on them.
            “I am the newest member and did not serve with Andok,” she replied. “But Bergi speaks highly of him.”
            "I'm surprised you've heard of the defoliation spell," he said, making conversation as he studied her offerings. "It's from Sargava originally, you know. Have you been down that way? The reason I know is that I happen to have just the thing, right here." He turned to a set of wine racks stocked with scrolls, pulling one out and blowing dust from it carefully. He set it aside, then murmured under his breath, casting a spell of identification on the wand lying on his counter.
            “No, I’ve not been to Sargava yet,” Amrynn replied. “But a friend and I have a fairly serious competition about who has buried their nose in a book the longest. He was the one who mentioned it.”
            He cast an appraising eye over the lot, and looked up at Amrynn with those vivid blue eyes, bright as any gnome's. "I can't trade you a wand for this, but I'll trade you all of it for both the scrolls you need, and one hundred and sixty gold coins besides, to make the number nice and round. Does that strike your fancy?"
            “A fair offer, but the wand would serve us better,” Amrynn replied with a coy smile and then a chuckling shake of her head. “Oh, I am so out of my depth here.” She retrieved the two unidentified scrolls, slipping them back into a pocket. “You’re not a gambling man, good to know. I’ll allot those two some more study time for now.”
            She then picked up the Comprehend Languages scroll, twirling it lightly in her fingers, knowing its value in these negotiations was minimal. With her other hand, she pulled a second wand from her belt and placed it next to the first. She also dipped into her pack and slipped out an everburning torch, setting the glowing instrument on the other side of the two valuable scrolls. Beside that, she sat down a sizable pouch that clinked with the music of coins. That the pouch was bloodstained did not seem to phase her. She dipped a hand in and set out five stacks of ten gold coins, then returned the pouch to its out of sight location.
            Still twirling the Comprehend scroll lightly, she waved her other hand across the table. “How about both scrolls and the wand, for everything on the counter?”
            Voon didn't appear too phased by the bloodstained pouch, simply picking up the wand and examining it as he had the other. He twirled it in his fingers experimentally (and flamboyantly), brandishing it at a statue on a shelf across from him as though to strike it down from afar with the wand's magic. Then he set it down, and sighed.
            "Lass, my wand of enchanted armor alone is worth more than everything you've offered, including the scrolls you took back," he said gently. "It would be different if your wands were new, as mine is, but I can see they've been tapped of quite a bit of magic."
            "I'll tell you what - both the scrolls can be yours for what's on the table, without the coin you've offered, and I'll take the everburning torch, as well. In return, besides the scrolls, I'll pay you two hundred and seventy-five shining gold coins, since you're one of the Heroes, and Ven speaks well of you folk. Then, you go and see Nisk Tander over at Bottled Solutions. He'll sell you what you need, lass, if only in bottled form."
            Amrynn’s slender fingers danced around the piles of coins, tapping with insistent thought. The gold discs clinked together as she stroked the stacks and then fed two together into one taller pile. A few heartbeats more passed, and two more piles zippered together into another taller stack. Her hand fiddled with the fifth short pile until she reached a decision.
            “Your insight has been invaluable, Master Voon,” she said. “And your vision surely sharper than mine. The scrolls are a luxury we can do without, and I’ve coin enough to weigh me down more than I like as it is.”
            She fed the small stack back into the full pouch she produced and then the two tall stacks followed suit in rapid succession as she talked. “I am unsurprised that the previous owner of these magics would continue to vex me from beyond the grave. Had I realized the abuse of her items, I would not have allowed her to consume your valuable time as well.”
            Wand, wand, scroll, scroll, scroll, and finally the glowing torch, all found their way back into the creases and folds of Amrynn’s garments.
            Voon raised his brows in surprise at her decision, caught for a moment with no words... but then he rallied. "Well, I'm always looking for curiosities and relics from the wilds to add to my collection. If you find some artifact you feel might be worthwhile, don't hesitate to come back." He took his own items and returned them to their places - apparently, there was some method to the mad clutter of his shop.
            “Thank you. I look forward to our next meeting,” she said with a nod, stowing the sack of coins and turning to leave the Feathered Serpent.
            Amrynn forced herself to not allow the door to slam as she stepped into the street, and while she succeeded, she could not keep the flush of anger from her cheeks. She truly despised any semblance of ineptitude, though her innate talents often placed her in such circumstances when paired with a more classically trained practitioner.
            The anger sizzled into her fingertips, and she balled her hands, taking a deep breath to bank the coals that sought to blaze more brightly. Then she turned and walked, the direction mattering little. She only sought the cooler breeze of motion to temper her ire.
            Her path took her through the winding streets and alleys, past a brothel and the Rusty Dragon and into the farmer's market that was ongoing. The unseasonably warm autumn air brought her the smell of fruits, vegetables, meats, and fish being hawked from wagons and stands, both raw and cooked. Children laughed and played, or ran errands - it was hard to tell the difference. The horrors of the Swallowtail Festival raid had not dampened their spirits the way it had their parents'. Yet even the adults seemed determined to put the bad days behind them, and though none recognized Amrynn as one of them, the Heroes were on the lips of gossips and tale-tellers alike. Amrynn did a circuit of the market, then turned to make her way back to the Rusty Dragon.
            Not among those impressed was an older man dressed as a noble, who disdained to speak with the commoners, but deigned to allow some merchants to speak to him, along with a well-dressed man who nevertheless seemed deferential to him. "Probably out to drain the coffers of the town. I hear they've done a smashing job of it so far." Behind them, a sign proclaiming the large building to belong to the Sandpoint Mercantile League hung prominently on the wall.
            "I'm sure they have our best interests at heart, Lord Scarnetti," the well-dressed man soothed, offering a semi-apologetic smile to the merchants. "They did save so many at the Festival."
            "Soldiers of fortune," Lord Scarnetti scoffed, giving the other man a look of distaste. "Perhaps that sort of thing appeals to your sensibilities, Jasper, but my blood gives me a sixth sense about these things. Your lifestyle-"
            "Is not under discussion, Lord Scarnetti. And it's Sir Korvaski. I may no longer crusade for Abadar, but I have earned my title, my lord," Sir Korvaski said crisply, no longer smiling. Turning back to the merchants (which made Lord Scarnetti fume visibly), Sir Jasper promised to attend to their business as soon as possible, sending them on their way. When he had done so, Lord Scarnetti stepped closer.
            "Mark my words, Jasper, a day will come when the people of Sandpoint see you for who you are," he sneered.
            "My god sees me for who I am, Lord Scarnetti. I am content with that." Sir Korvaski watched Lord Scarnetti stalk away, apparently disgusted with the entire conversation.

14


            "Hello again, Devin! How's that armor treating you? Well, I hope! What can I do for you today?" Savah Bevaniky called down from where she was standing on a ladder, re-ordering the helmets displayed on the top shelf in her armory. Climbing down, she dusted off her hands and offered Devin one in greeting, tossing her red hair out of her eyes with a flick of her head. Looking around, Devin saw all manner of weapons on display, prominent among them a heavy crossbow with a darkwood and ivory stock that bore the name, "Vansaya." A double handful of shuriken gleamed from a case, and there was a spiked chain dangling from the wall behind the counter.
            "It's saved my skin more than once, Savah," Devin acknowledged with a grateful nod. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering about the shop overmuch; there was much here of interest, and little coin to spare for it.
            "Let me guess - you're here because of that," she said, quirking a smile as she pointed at Bruthazmus' heavy, powerful bow in Devin's possession. "And maybe that, as well?" she added a bit less enthusiastically, regarding the goblin-sized doghide armor he had recovered from the bowels of Thistletop.
            He nodded again at Sarah's guess of the reason for his visit. He offered the powerful, recurved longbow forward in two hands for her inspection. "I saw arrows from this bow punch clean through stout armor, and I swear some swerved around intermediaries and cover to hit home." Implied, they had no means to assess its properties properly, so he was here to trust Savah's eye.
            He let Savah take hold of the bow if she reached for it, or set it upon one of the mostly-clear tables if not, to free his hands. Devin unlashed the doghide armor. "The armor isn't much to look at, but it's enchanted. When I needed it in a pinch, it resized to me."
            "We're here to resupply; we've broken the back of Thistletop, now we need to make it safe. Bergi and I'Daiin and others are there to hold it, waiting, and out of food. To tip my hand, whatever we land on, here, comprises the total funds I can put to use to those efforts."
            "Well, let's see what I can offer you, then!" Savah said brightly, moving behind her counter to have a look at the bow first of all. It lay there, heavy and black, and when she lifted it to try its draw, the taut string didn't so much as budge. Savah whistled, and set it down, shaking her hand.
            "That's amazing workmanship," she said with a nod, cocking her head at Devin. Red hair fell over her eyes, and she blew it out of the way with a puff of air. "I don't see any maker's mark, but there's no denying that it's the work of a master. With luck, some muscle-bound Shoanti will come through and I'll be able to sell it again. Don't want it to end up like Vansaya, there," she sighed wistfully at the crossbow.
            She accepted the doghide armor a bit gingerly, apparently expecting something so strange to have the grime of goblin use on it, but Bergi's cleaning had done wonders, and her expression cleared as she examined it. "It changes size, you say? That's useful... Do you mind?" She tried it on, working the straps and plates expertly, and just as Devin had promised, the armor was oddly not as small as it had appeared at first.
            "Don't I cut a figure?" Savah asked with a wry grin, standing attired in doghide, some with the faces still showing. She took it off again as easily as she had donned it, regarding it with pursed lips as she laid it out on the counter beside the heavy bow.
            "I don't know if anyone will appreciate the fashion of it, but it is magical, and that's nothing to sneeze at. And it can fit a human or a halfling, so there's a bit of flexibility for who buys it." She blew her cheeks out, regarding the items, then nodded and looked up at Devin. "My offer is nine hundred and eighty-five gold, since you're a Hero of Sandpoint. Besides, Ven likes you guys. He's a good judge of character." She smiled, the light catching her blue eyes. "And don't forget, if you want to spend any of that here, the Heroes get a discount of twenty percent. I haven't forgotten what you did for us at the Festival... well, what the other Heroes did, but I hear you're with them, and working to keep us safe."
            "More than fair," Devin nodded, suddenly preoccupied with getting back to the island, now that they could arrive with ample supplies. "Thank you."
            "That's... that's a lot of currency." It was more than Devin had ever imagined seeing in one place, much less holding on his own person. "Would you hold it in the name of the Heroes, for now?"
            "Once I know we have transport, I've waterskins, trail rations, machetes, hatches, axes, rope, and block and tackle to buy."
            "Of course. Well, I think you can get a nice amount of what you need from Ven for what you've earned!" Savah laughed, leaning on the counter. "You just let me know if there's anything in my Armory that interests you." She cocked her head to the side, her smile widening impishly.
            Devin had to wonder if he was imagining a bit of flirtatiousness from Savah, or if it was just her natural personality. Outgoing, confident, friendly. Her query did bring to mind a present challenge, however. "Demons. We've met more than one, in Thistletop. Or at least extraplanars. More weapons that could harm them would help, but well, for that, I think we're still of modest means. Anything come to mind?"
            That surprised Savah, at least. Apparently it wasn't what she'd been expecting. "Demons? Well, I can't make any promises of efficacy, since I've only heard this second-hand, but either cold iron or silvered weapons could prove helpful. And enchanted weapons, I would think... but I don't actually know." She half-turned to regard her stock thoughtfully. "I have a few silvered weapons now, but since the Heroes came through last, I made a point to stock a number of cold iron weapons as well. I do happen to have a few enchanted weapons, as well. And, y'know, some doghide armor. And a really, really tough bow." She turned back to grin at Devin with catching cheery amusement.
            "Just take care, out there," she said in a moment's seriousness. "Demons... it just sounds awfully dangerous. Stories say you can lose more than just your life to them." Her darker blue eyes caught his, and she pointed a finger at him. "Sandpoint has had... well, The Late Unpleasantness... there were rumors."
            "Anyway," she said, taking a deep breath to let the serious mood roll of her like water off a duck, "come on back when you know what you want, and I'll set you up."
            "Don't be a stranger!" she called after him when he left.
            Devin cast a quick look back over his shoulder and a friendly parting wave promising they'd be back, soon.

15


            While at the sheriff's office, Durriken had remained quiet, simply nodding in agreement with Rhaina's request that he look for information on a barghest at the Sandpoint temple. He had little to contribute in terms of the rescue of the Thistletop detachment of the party but did agree to assist with healing the horse should it be necessary.
            Once the group had left the office, Durriken excused himself from the shopping trips and made his way to the Cathedral. Entering in through the main doors, he looked about for anyone to inquire as to the whereabouts of Father Zantus.
            Father Zantus was preparing for the Moonday night's sermon, but he paused what he was doing and came out to see Durriken once the acolyte announced the Pharasmin's presence.
            "Brother Durriken! A pleasure to see you again! Are you in need of spiritual guidance?" he teased, but quickly sobered when Durriken told him why he had come.
            "A... barghest, you say?" Father Zantus frowned, staring into the middle distance as he thought. "I don't know that I can help you there, and I'm afraid I'm not sure who could... you could try asking Brodert Quink, our local sage, though he's more interested in Thassilonian remains... Or perhaps Daviren Hosk, down at the stables - he was once a goblin-hunter, so he might be of aid regarding what the goblins wanted with a barghest. Or you could try Chask Haladan, down at the bookstore - he reads about all manner of things, really." Tapping his finger on his temple, he mused, "The House of Blue Stones has a library, but Sabyl Sorn is very picky about who she lets in to use it. Though, now that I think of it, Vorvashali Voon down at the Feathered Serpent and the headmaster of Turandarok Academy, Ilsoari Gandethus, were adventurers once - they're quite knowledgeable about matters esoteric."
            He sighed. "Of all of them, I'd say your best bet was the library or the ex-adventurers, but if none of you worship Irori, you'll need to be awfully persuasive to gain the library." He patted Durriken's shoulder as they walked through the cathedral. The comforting light from the stained glass windows fell over them as they moved. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, my son. Tell me, will you be staying long? You're welcome to join me in preaching tonight."
            Durriken fell in step with Father Zantus and said, "I would love to preach again tonight but I believe our group means to return to the Thistletop as soon as possible as we still have work unfinished including this Barghest. Thank you for pointing me in the direction to find some answers. Now if you will excuse me, I must be going." Durriken bows slightly to Father Zantus before leaving the Cathedral and making his way out to the street. He starts to walk in one direction then stops and looks the other way. Realizing he really didn't know where he is going, he stopped a passerby and smiled saying, "Pardon me, but could you give me directions to the Turandarok Academy or the House of the Blue Stones?"
            The Varisian woman paused, smiling at Durriken. "Aye, I can do that, Brother... Durriken, isn't it? I just wanted to say that your eulogy for the fallen was beautiful. It meant a lot to those of us here in Sandpoint who are grieving." She took his hand and clasped it with both of hers earnestly. "Thank you, Brother. Please, come by Risa's Place sometime. We'll give you a lovely meal, on the house."
            Durriken returned her smile and placed his hand over hers saying, "I am pleased to be of service. Losing loved ones is never easy so whatever comfort I can provide is a boon from Pharasma." At the mention of a meal, he said, "That would be most lovely. It seems that adventurers must survive on rather bland and meager rations when in the field, so a home-cooked meal would be most welcome. I will gladly take you up on that offer as soon as my compatriots and I complete our work clearing out Thistletop. I'm afraid the safety and security of Sandpoint must come before my stomach."
            "As for Turandarok, you can't miss it. It's right at the corner of the market square, on Main Street, across from the general store. The House of Blue Stones is a bit closer - take Rat Alley off Main Street right after the garrison, and you'll find it at the end, right next to the Glassworks." She shook her head sadly at the memory of the carnage at the Glassworks. "I'd say 'bless you,' but I suppose Pharasma has already done that," she said with a sad smile.
            Durriken looked in the general directions as the woman provided them, ensuring he know knew where he was going. "Thank you for your assistance, madam, and for the offer. I look forward to seeing you soon." He waved as he went on his way deciding to make his stops as he found them. With that in mind, he set his path towards the House of Blue Stones.
            Wandering down the alley, he found the unassuming stone building as promised. However, he was stopped at the door by a serene Iroran, who denied him entry. "This place is for followers of Irori," he explained, blocking the door with his body. "The Sandpoint Cathedral has shrines where you can pray, Brother."
            "Greetings, Brother." Durriken said with a smile, "I have not come for a place to pray but to seek out knowledge that I am led to believe may rest in your esteemed library. I am working to assist the Heroes of Sandpoint in their quest to end the threat of goblin invasion to this fair town. I was hopeful that perhaps Mistress Sorn might deem a humble servant of Pharasma the opportunity to avail himself of the knowledge that Irori provides."
            The doorman nodded in acknowledgement, probably used to such requests. "I will get her, but she will tell you the same thing," he predicted. "Wait here."
            He spoke with someone inside the door, and then, rather than going inside, he closed the door and went down the alley in the direction Durriken had come from. Waiting with patience born of Pharasman philosophy, Durriken was nevertheless a little relieved when the doorman returned, together with a striking woman. She was lean and fit, with short, dark red hair that flopped over one side of her face, and she walked gracefully in the loose clothing of a monk.
            She introduced herself as Sabyl Sorn, and listened politely to Durriken's request, but shook her head at the end of his speech. "I'm sorry, but my library isn't for the public. I do allow Irorans to come and meditate and study here, but I think people of other faiths are better off looking elsewhere. Chask Haladan has a bookshop, if you're interested in a particular volume. It's called 'The Curious Goblin.' I can take you there, if you wish? I was just there."
            Durriken nodded with an understanding frown as Sabyl Sorn politely declined his request for access to the Irorian library, "Of course, I understand. I would greatly appreciate the escort to the Curious Goblin and perhaps an introduction to the proprietor?"
            "Of course," Sorn agreed, motioning for him to follow her. The doorman went back into the unassuming House of Blue Stones as they walked away. "Chask mentioned speaking with the Heroes earlier. I'm sure he'd be happy to aid you."
            As they walked towards there destination, Durriken placed his hands behind his back enjoying the leisurely pace. Turning to Sabyl he said, "Do you happen to know anything about a beast called a baraghest? I must admit that I haven't had any knowledge on the subject but rumours are such a creature is lurking in the depths of Thistletop. My companions and I are set to return to deal with whatever remains in the bowels of that place and could use any information as to how we might deal with the creature."
            Sorn frowned. "A baraghest, you say? I don't think I've come across the name in my studies, but then, it wasn't beasts I was researching. If it's an animal, you might be better off asking Daviren Hosk - he used to be a ranger in his younger days, I understand. If the thing is a monster, though, I would recommend speaking with Ilsoari Gandethus, the headmaster at Turandarok Academy. He, too, was once an adventurer before coming to settle down in Sandpoint. In fact, I was just with him at the Curious Goblin."
            After being assured that it was likely a monster they were looking at, Sorn led Durriken to The Curious Goblin, where as promised, two old men were drinking tea and chatting. The older of them stood and welcomed Durriken and Sorn. "Is there something I can do for you? Are you looking for any book in particular? A treatise on Pharasmin doctrine, perhaps?" he asked with a friendly grin.
            "Actually, he's here to see you, Ilsoari," Sorn said with a smile, indicating the other man. Gandethus was old enough to have gone white-haired, but it was clear he was not infirm, nor were his eyes clouded with age. He watched Durriken approach with a kind of wary preparedness that Durriken recognized in other adventurers, and when he rose to shake Durriken's hand, his grip was firm.
            "I may be old, but I don't need a priest just yet," he joked, making Sorn smirk and Haladan guffaw. "So if I don't need you, it follows that you need something from me. What is it you want, son?"
            Durriken smiled at Haladan's offer, "I am always on the lookout for good books on Pharasma. One can never have too much knowledge when it comes to matters of faith, However, that is not why I have come. My fellow adventurers have tasked me with finding out any information that might be had about a beast called a baraghest. We believe that one is in Thistletop and would like to know if there is anything we need to be prepared for. I would like to get this information as quickly as possible so I am willing to pay the gold piece to have the matter of its research expedited."
            "I'm certain we can come to an agreement," Gandethus agreed. "If the Heroes are willing to make an appearance at the Academy. The children would love to see them again."
            Looking about the shop, Durriken said, "On a personal note, might you have any volumes pertaining to the history of the area? I am looking to brush up on the local lore so I might be of more use to my companions. As for a visit to the Academy, I am sure that can be arranged once we have secured Thistletop and insured that no further danger of attacks from goblins are imminent."
            Haladan brightened at Durriken's request. "Why yes, I've gathered a few tomes along those lines. They go for around a hundred gold each, if you'd like me to find them? They cover everything from the Sandpoint Devil to the Farmer's Markets to trade with Magnimar and Riddleport to the Festivals to... ahem... well, the Late Unpleasantness," he hemmed, glancing at his two friends. Gandethus harumphed, while Sorn seemed unmoved.
            "Come to the Academy in a few hours. I'll find what I can for you," Gandethus said, nodding to Durriken and the others as he exited The Curious Goblin.

16


            In the morning, Bergi saw to healing those in need of it, and spent a bit of time with the recovering warhorse before going about the work of burning the dead bodies on the island (apart from Lyrie).
            "This is a waste of time," Orik complained as he helped stack the bodies in the middle of the yard. The horse watched them disapprovingly from a far corner, in the shade. "We should just tip them off the side of the island. You could even earn a bit if you cleaned up their things and sold them. They're about your size," he said, ignoring her look, "and there are plenty of little folk who might buy this stuff if it didn't reek of goblin."
            “Caaw!” Bergi hacked at the smell of fermenting goblin. “Well if you think I’m cleaning them up, you’re out of your helmet-dented mind. They smell like the underside of an ettin!”
            Orik shrugged, indicating that it was no skin off his nose if Bergi didn't want to loot the dead.
            Bergi tossed the armload of murder bits she’d been carrying, which was anything she’d deemed unsalvageable, onto the rapidly forming pyre. Unpleasant work on the best of days, the fact that time worked against them didn’t help in the least.
            “They’d just wind up rotting on the shoreline if we tossed ‘em over,” she said to Orik. “Stinky and soggy. Better they burn, and at the very least, shed a bit of light into the world for what they were.”
            “Bad enough that I have to wear these stank rags from that bloated maggot, Gogmurt,” she said, sniffing at the cloak. “Blecch. Still reeks of rosemary and vomit.”
            Bergi was pleased with I’Daiin’ progress with horse and spent as much time with them as she could manage. “Do you have a name in mind?” she asked the Shoanti.
            I'Daiin looked up from his ministrations with the horse after his share of body-gathering and pyre-building. It had a ways to go before it was a rideable beast again, but he was patient. He grinned at the halfling.
            "This fellow here is black, like coal, but there is still fire within him. I will call him Raz. It means "ember". A wind just needs to kick up for him to burn again." He gave the horse a careful pat and a nod. "Bergi, we have horses similar to this in the Sklar-Quah. Many of our warriors are trained to do the burn run, on horseback, and face the firestorms of the Cinderlands. It is an important coming of age ritual for us. I have done it. It is...there are no words to describe it. Many warriors go on to become Burn Riders, and they are fearsome indeed. They hold back the ranks of the dam, the Orcs of Belkzen. If it were not for my own foolishness, I'd probably be doing the same." He shrugged. "Instead, I get to squash goblins and demons. It is not that bad of a trade." I'Daiin finished his little speech with a booming laugh.
            "Orik. Fire is cleansing. And besides, dead bodies attract things. We don't want carrion feeders about, especially the intelligent magicking kind." He patted the horse and helped Orik and Bergi do more cleaning, wiping his hands for his own sampling of pickled radish and the like. "Raz will come with us. We'll get that fellow across. Eh, Raz! shhhreet!" I'Daiin gave the horse an encouraging whistle, hoping its ears would prick up.
            Having decided that I'Daiin wasn't a threat to him, the horse did more than prick his ears - he came over to push I'Daiin's hand with his muzzle, looking for more apples. He showed great promise as a warhorse, with a spirited temper that shone through despite his badly weakened state - as evidenced by the way he spent a minute re-stomping on the remains of the goblins that had tried to lock him up, before the three two-legs took the filth away to the pyre.
            As their resources warranted, Bergi also explored the island redoubt as thoroughly as she could. The eastern stretch outside the wall along the shore intrigued her, and she made sure to ferret out all of the nooks and crannies available to the wee folk. While the long thorns of the bushes along the eastern wall of the fort kept her from venturing too close - and it appeared the goblins hadn't made any tunnels there, either - she was able to view the area from above on the eastern watchtower, easing her curiosity.
            When her options ran thin, she even engaged the goblin matrons in conversation, if only to chance gleaning whatever additional tidbits she could about Thistletop. The goblin concubines, who were not proving exemplary mothers, having stuffed the crying babies back in their cages, were surprised that Bergi could speak their language, but took advantage of it immediately. They promised to tell her where there was hidden treasure, if only she would let them go.
            The surging goblin matrons and their chatter was escalating too quickly. Bergi didn’t want it to come to blows, though she doubted Orik would mind if it did. She put a staying hand on his knee at the same time that she let out a single shrill note that hurt even her ears a bit.
            <“Enough!”> Bergi then shouted in goblin. <“I will not bargain with jackals. Pick one of you to speak. One who is willing to risk her life.”>
            Once the goblin matrons had decided on a speaker by whatever horrific means suited them, Bergi addressed her. <“What is your name?”> she asked.
            <"I'm Grudky,"> the goblin who had lost the scuffle to avoid risking her life said. She scowled at the other goblins, who had backed away, but kept her from retreating.
            <“Now, tell me,”> she added after the matron’s response. <“What treasure? And where? … And know that if you tell me the truth, we will free you and your kin. But, if you lie, or the treasure isn’t there ... then we will introduce you all to that wonderful tentacled beast in the nearby cave.”>
            <"Chief Ripnugget yakked about his treasure sometimes, when he was drunk,"> Grudky simpered. <"In the yuck-place. I don't promise anything! I just want to go. Let me go!">
            Bergi took a calming breath and released it. Then she was momentarily horrified that she was somehow becoming acclimated to the stench of Thistletop. She stifled the resultant gag trying to surface.
            “Grudky,” Bergi said. “You need to be more specific, clearer, in your description of this…yuck place. Which yuck place do you mean?”
            “Help, show us,” she added. “And we will set you free.”
            This brought up the courage, or at least self-interest, of the rest of the goblins, and they poured forward, gabbling about how they knew where the yuck place, the treasure, and from one confused goblin, the pickles were. Grudky was nearly trampled, and soon there was a general brawl going on among the goblins, which involved a lot of biting, pinching, smacking, and slap-fights.
            <“Ohhh, no you don’t, you vultures!”> Bergi shouted at the goblin matrons trying to usurp the situation. She flipped her glowing dagger between and around them with threatening intent.
            <“You had your chance. You chose Grudky to talk, so now you wait!”>
            Grudky led them up to the fort atop the island, casting a long, longing glance at the front gates before leading them out into the yard... where she screamed. A moment later, it was clear that it wasn't the pile of burning goblin bodies that had frightened her, as Raz whinnied and reared, pawing at the air. Grudky cowered, trying to shove her way past Bergi, Orik and I'Daiin back into the fort, while Raz laid his ears back and snorted, trotting back and forth as though deciding whether to trample her.
            Bergi understood the situation almost immediately, she had Orik keep a hold of Grudky while she barked orders. “I’Daiin!” she said. “Calm Raz if you can. Please! At least move over that way an intercede on our behalf.” She urged the Shoanti on with ragged nods and a shooing hand, then turned back to Grudky.
            <“Hold on, Grudky,”> Bergi said, then she sung some beatific notes both to soothe the goblin and empower her own hands. Her delicate fingers were now aglow with a muted orange pulse. Bergi traced them around Grudky’s form, shucking away most of the filth from the goblin matron. She hummed and sung as she went, trying to ease the goblin’s discomfort.
            <“Okay,”> she said. <“You’re safe now. That horse protection spell will keep you from harm here. Okay? Don’t you feel better?”>
            <"Would rather get goblin protection spell,"> Grudky muttered, but appeared to take heart when Raz was kept away from her.
            <“Alright, now,”> she continued, guiding Grudky with one hand. <“You were going to show us Ripnugget’s hiding spot…”>
            Sticking her tongue out at the horse in newfound defiance, she led them across the yard and into the now-stinking hallway, half-blocked with corpses. She cast an interested eye on the fallen goblins' possessions, but walked on until they were outside what, from the smell, could only be the latrine.
            <"Yuck place,"> Grudky announced proudly. <"Chief Ripnugget talk about his treasure all the time. In there.">
            The broad shouldered Shoanti returned from where he had quickly tied and hobbled Raz, out of sight of goblin eyes. "Oh, wonderful, the privy. Bergi! Tell these goblins that if they can retrieve that treasure, we can give them a share. I certainly can't fit down in there and I don't think you would want to."
            Bergi’s eyelids continued to flutter as she fought off the apoplexy pulsing in the vein along one of her temples. Three times she had started to try and speak, but each time just a grunting note had emerged as a continuous stream of goblin toileting vignettes raced through her mind’s eye.
            I’Daiin’s words finally brought her around, and she swallowed thickly before speaking to Grudky again.
            <“My large friend here has offered you a share of whatever treasure awaits in there,”> Bergi said, nodding at the latrine. <“If you retrieve it for us. In addition to that, I’ll add that you can have your pick of spoils from your fallen brethren,”> she added, nodding back the way they had come. <“But my question is this, do you want to split that wealth with your kin, or retrieve it yourself?”>
            Bergi hoped Grudky would cooperate. There was no way Bergi was setting foot inside that latrine. There wasn’t enough fire in the cosmos to cleanse it enough to suit her. She was actually trying to imagine a way to sink all of Thistletop beneath the waves forever. If the goblins wouldn’t dig, that treasure would just stay buried.
            Grudky's beady red eyes lit up at Bergi's offer, then narrowed in suspicion. <"Okay. Grudky gets the treasure. Get shield and dogslicer too. First.">
            Once prepared, Grudky ventured into the privy, which did indeed stink... but she didn't dive in. Instead, she started looking around the back wall, getting more and more frustrated until she was screaming and kicking it, and beating it with her fists, the shield and dogslicer forgotten by the privy.
            "The goblins should have put up as much of a fight when you got here," Orik observed dryly, before going back to the yard to breathe.
            ‘A latrine,’ Bergi thought. ‘I’m trying to detect magic on a latrine.’ Gods what would her mother say!
            The notes drifted from the wee halfling, first the engaging kind that brought shooting stars and sunrises to mind. With a coalesced field of light at her disposal, she stepped a bit closer to the … latrine … and sang once more. She scanned the area with her enhanced vision, seeking any nuances of the weave that might lead them to the treasure that Ripnugget claimed to be here.
            As she scanned, Bergi spoke sideways to the men folk nearby, “Did we burn Ripnugget yet? I’d like to stab him a few more times first.”
            "First one in the pile," Orik told her, displaying his characteristic lack of a sense of humor.
            When Grudky looked at her questioningly, Bergi just waved her on in her search. <“Just keep looking, Grudky,”> she said. <“You’re doing fine.”>
            Lit by Bergi's magic, the small, foul-smelling room featured little more than a reeking hole in the ground, its rim stained with refuse and waste. Grudky was behind the hole, trying to claw down the back wall with little success. <"It's here! Ripnugget say so! Behind wall,"> Grudky screamed with frustration, battering her tiny fists against the wood.
            Unsurprisingly, there was no hint of magic, either from behind the wall or down the privy.
            "Bergi, don't you have that presti...er...the prestilitigation...the cleaning spell? I don't think I can get down there, but perhaps we can stick a prisebar or a sword down there to open up the wood. Grudky...good work," said the barbarian.
            “No, sir,” Bergi said, shaking her head defiantly at I’Daiin. “There are some things that even magic won’t clean. As it is, I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat for a week.”

17


            “Transport is available though departure could depend on tides.What do we have and what do we as yet need to acquire? Are you upset Amrynn?” Rhaina said.
            Amrynn's storm cloud preoccupied Devin's first thoughts as well; he wondered what had happened, in contrast with his friendly barter with Savah at the armorers.
            Only after such matters were settled did Devin volunteer, "We have nearly a thousand gold in the name of the Heroes waiting at Savah's. It was more coin than I wanted to carry about." Notably, Devin was no longer carrying either the orcish greatbow or the doghide armor. "We can get the sundries from Ven today; rope, food, water, hatchets, axes, et al; and be off with due urgency today."
            Upon hearing Devin’s proclamation of wealth and his disingenuity for carrying it, Amrynn cocked both an eyebrow and a corner of her mouth his way. The tension of her discontent drained away in that moment, and she retrieved Lyrie’s bloody pouch from her side, setting it on the table with a relinquishing thud.
            "I don't think I'd trust /myself/ to carry that much about," Devin shrugged. "Would make me twitchy."
            “Here is another 300 gold that was Lyrie’s,” Amrynn said. “I thought it would be enough to do what was needed, but Lyrie’s other trinkets weren’t up to the task.”
            She waved away any further inquiry as moot and simply said to Rhaina, “Voon at the Feathered Serpent has a wand of Mage Armor, if you’d rather. Much more cost effective in the long run, though it would take a sizable bite out of the present bounty.”
            Amrynn then sipped contentedly at her tea, willing time to slow around them that they might return more swiftly to Thistletop…of all places. She shook her head lightly in disbelief at the recent turns of her life.
            "Risking a silly question," Devin asked of Rhaina, and her share and budget of the haul thus far, "why not just buy armor?" Devin gestured to Rhaina's bared, plate-framed midriff. Whether it was the sums they were talking about or his mindfulness for all that yet needed to be arranged, he couldn't quite fathom relying upon such an expensive consumable.
            "Separately, Savah noted she'd brought in a small stock of silvered and cold iron weapons, available to purchase. I mentioned we'd hit upon a demon or two so far."
            "In any case, let's get the supplies, and get them to the ship, and wait for the tide if we must."
            “Just get me a couple of Mage armor potions and I’ll be fine.” Rhaina managed to stifle a laugh, though it is with some effort, as she noted Devin’s assessment of her garb “Before I became a Paladin, I trained as a Monk, So unfortunately armour is not an option’'.
            Devin perked, "/That/ will be a worthwhile tale to hear while we row or sail back out there."
            I’m willing to carry the gold until it’s spent. We should decide first on how much we are going to try and do. Are we planning to try and lower the Horse onto a Fishing boat?” Rhaina said.
            Amrynn reached a delicate hand out and laid it upon Rhaina’s wrist, shaking her head in an assertive point of clarity. “Take no offense, we walk this road together, Rhaina,” Amrynn said. “We only seek to do so as best benefits us all. Devin does not accuse. He only seeks clarity, and efficiency, as is his way.”
            She smiled warmly at both Devin and the paladin before continuing. “If the wand would benefit you over time, then we should acquire it,” she said. “But know that I can also summon the armor of the magus should you require it.”
            Amrynn then withdrew her hand and sat erect once more, thinking on the paladin’s further query. “Whatever path the horse’s destiny may pursue,” she answered. “The bridge needs to be repaired. I cannot say why, perhaps it is Quickfoot’s spirit at work, but I feel we need to hold Thistletop, to reinforce it as a forward outpost for what is to come.”
            “How soon can we leave?” she asked.

18


            Eventually, they located Durriken and the fisher-captain, who reluctantly agreed to cut short his stay in town. By evening, the Sharkfish had towed their jollyboat out near Thistletop, and they returned to the island.
            Cutting across the surf helped. The air was a cooling reminder of the progress they were making. Amrynn stood atop one gunwale, holding to the rigging while searching out Thistletop on the horizon. Her legs absorbed the rhythmic drive of the water beneath them, as she cast her spirit forward, willing everyone that they had left behind to still be in good health.
            “There!” Amrynn shouted, pointing. “Smoke on the horizon!”
            Smoke?! Devin's alarm was brief; reason won out; he remembered that Thistletop's seasoned driftwood would refuse to readily burn. With the number of dead, surely they'd set to preventing disease by burning the bodies. "They had the energy to assemble a pyre," Devin concluded, and there was true hope in how he said it. He'd been dreading returning to find their friends exhausted, dehydrated, and desperately hungry. Perhaps they still would, but not so dire.
            At mooring, Devin wasted little time, shouldering two waterskins and a small sack of trail rations himself, helped tether the rowboat, and helped the others safely disembark. His first dunking in the waves gave him appropriate respect and caution for their transfers and step. His eyes cast skyward once or twice, minding the lingering column of smoke and the ill smells upon the air.
            What he had carried up, he set down near the Thistletop's wall, and drew his shortsword with a significant look to the others. "Let me go first; not far ahead; but a little," he asked. They didn't know the state of the fort. His request was that Amrynn, Rhaina, and Durriken would all hold back perhaps fifty feet behind Devin's advance, that he could have a chance to get the drop on any threats that may have manifested in their absence, until they found Bergi and I'Daiin.
            Rhaina was anxious as they sailed out of harbor. Firstly she was wearing armor and it itched. Then there was the uncertainty of what the others might be going through while they were away. But when the spotted smoke and Devin wanted to go first she simply disagreed.
            “I can be as silent as you are. We sneak up together, this is not up for discussion” Her bow is in hand as she climbed just behind Devin
            Devin's expression flickered through brief frustration, to skepticism, to resignation. He accepted that arguing the point would not gain anything positive for the larger venture. He acquiesced with a quick tick of his head to throw any contentious thoughts aside.
            "Word, within one-quarter hour," he promised to Durriken and Amrynn, and he and Rhaina moved to scout the fort as efficiently and silently as possible, to ascertain the health and tactical situation of their comrades.
            Sensing the possibility of tension, Durriken simply nodded to Devin's proclamation of their return with news. He continued to glance around the area as they left to keep watch for any hidden dangers waiting to strike once the group was divided.
            “I have faith in your ability Devin. I just do not believe in risking another member of this group. No one should be going on alone.” Rhaina smiled “Please, lead on”
            Devin shook his head sharply and whispered back, "Amrynn and Durriken are not helpless, but they are not fighters to be left unprotected." More gently, but still in a meant-to-be-private volume, Devin advised, "Delegate scouting."
            “Very well Devin” She said and then in that quite tone she replied to him “Alright, go on” Rhaina walked back to the others “He does make a good point about his ability to sneak being better than mine”

19


            Devin set down the last of his share of what they'd ported from town, and from the boat. He looked around about the assembled party; all safe; with a measure of relief.
            Though it was obvious from the appearance of the ten roughly-stitched burlap bags, Devin pointed out, "Those are feed, for the horse." He wiped a forearm across his brow; he may not have carried the majority of the goods up the cliff, but the share he did carry seemed to have gotten progressively heavier by the fourth trip.
            "I take it you found food; any other major events transpire?"
            Devin eyed the supply of rope and supplies they'd brought to re-establish a makeshift bridge and clear a path through the briars. Several days' worth of effort, at least, he estimated.
            Bergi snapped to attention and offered a salute. “Fort held,” she said with a smile. “Glad to see you! We scrounged some pickled grub, burned most of the dead, and have been dealing with the goblin masses as best we’ve been able.”
            “Haven’t delved any deeper or done any swimming,” she added. “Didn’t seem wise.”
            “In wisdom we are boundless,” Amrynn said, stepping up and dropping the sack of feed she had carried up from the boat. The lean elf managed well enough, but there were threads of moisture along her temples and into her hair that conveyed the effort employed.
            She advanced on Bergi and knelt beside her. “No trouble from these swarthy men while we were gone?” Amrynn asked with a smile, offering the halfling an embrace.
            “Ha! No, they know when they’re outmatched,” Bergi replied, puffing up a bit. “What about that one?” She nodded at Devin in good humor. “He’s still a might shifty looking if you ask me. He cause any trouble?”
            It was Amrynn’s turn to smile. “No more than what is solicited,” she said, casting a wry glance through her lashes at Devin. “Though I suspect I am not privy to all of his doings.”
            Bergi winked with a knowing nod, and said, “I’ll keep an eye on him then.”
            The exchange earned a sideways glance and a smirk from Devin, and he noted it felt good to do so. He felt the tension associated with the urgency of getting aid back here melt away; they were all friends and reunited once again.
            “So,” Bergi then said, clapping tiny hands together. “Let’s get about this. Orik, would you please help I’Daiin take some feed to Raz? Then we’ll set to getting our guests off the island. We’ve been dealing with the goblins, and they’re anxious to make tracks.”
            "Ho, Devin! I've been training that fine horse and Bergi has been trying to convince a goblin to jump down the privy. Seems there's treasure down there. Aside from that, it's been peaceful." The barbarian grinned and took the burlap bags with a nod, singing a jaunty Shoanti tune as he crossed the yard. "After the privy-delving, we'll go back to the depths of Nualia's Nethers. Oh...." and he began another song, something about racing against an onrushing fire with orcs on both sides.
            Devin's first thought was that I'Daiin and Bergi had found and gotten into some sort of hallucinogenic that the goblins may have stashed away for recreation or sturdier constitutions. He watched I'Daiin proceed off with one of the bags with cautious optimism.
            Rhaina was so happy to see that they had all survived, and such a beautiful horse too. “That’s a proud warrior’s horse cousin. I do hope we can get him off safely. Hi Bergi, I should have known you would get the Goblins to help you. We brought some fresh food. Why don’t you all come eat? And tell us of what you have discovered while we were gone?”
            Taking whatever beverage was offered to help wash out the stench in her throat, Bergi then recounted the rather bland series of events that had transpired. The hauling, the pickles, the pyres, and the ‘treasure hunt’, but nothing of pertinence with regards to Nualia's efforts on Thistletop.
            "What of you all?" she asked after events in town.
            "Proceeds from what we took to town got us the supplies, and some updated attire," Devin nodded towards Rhaina's fashionably-worned new leather armor indicatively. "Significant amount of funds remaining. We brought enough to rig a rope bridge at best, lower the horse down at worst, or maybe rig up a pull-traverse and sling. Won't know until we try. Rhaina made a good entreaty to the town for carpenters and bridge-builders to get towards reconnecting Thistletop with the mainland, maybe secure it in the future with a signal fire as a forward point for Sandpoint's security. We'll see. The craftsmen won't come until we're sure the goblins are out of the area, though, including the thicket."
            "I think it'll take a day to get a line run and secured that the goblins can cross via. The horse has feed and water, now, and should be fine waiting on us. After the goblins are across and out, let's see about finishing delving Thistletop's past and Nualia's redecorations."

20


            Devin had no more luck than Bergi at finding the rumored secret door in the privy, but I'Daiin crashed through the dank wall with no trouble, and as promised, there was a second room behind it, with a large sea chest planted at the rear of it.
            Bergi leaned her head comically sideways as she gazed passed the wrecked wall to what sat nestled in the mud beyond.
            “Oh you have got to be shi--”
            “Bergi,” Amrynn cut off the halfling’s exclamation.
            Bergi ran one palm across her face in utter disbelief. She shook her head at the horrific marvels that goblinkind embraced. Of all places! She saw the frantic antics of Grudky and intercepted the goblin with a staying hand.
            <“Easy, Grudky, and well done,”> Bergi said in the harsh, greenskin tongue. <“We will honor our agreement, but there may be traps. Let my friends have a look first.”>
            Grudky had backed away, terrified, when I'Daiin so easily burst directly through the wall that she had been hammering on for so long without effect, but had recovered enough to begin to squawk about the treasure before Bergi mentioned traps.
            <"Okay. You go first,"> she agreed generously, but stayed outside the privy to watch, crammed together with Bergi. She clutched her reclaimed dogslicer to her chest, beady eyes glancing at the party periodically with suspicion.
            “Devin,” Bergi addressed the man. “Grudky here was promised a share of what is in that chest if her story was true. That, and we would let her and her kinswomen go free.” Then she added as an afterthought. “Be careful in there. Ripnugget was a sly old snot.”
            "No argument," Devin agreed of Bergi's assessment of the former goblin leader.
            Bergi then moved off to stand next to I’Daiin for a moment. “Thanks,” she said to the big man. “You do the Shoanti proud, both with your restraint and your wall-shattering prowess.”
            Devin counted the floor and debris-of-the-wall that I'Daiin had crashed through as safe enough, and set to examining the chest's perimeter and exterior with a measured eye. "Makes you wonder what else we may have left about here," he mused aloud without interrupting his work.
            Thankfully, the wall had kept much of the foul smell from the latrine from seeping into the surroundings in the tiny room, and though the wall was now gone, the stink still wasn't as bad there.
            A heavy padlock guarded the contents of the huge sea chest, and a quick examination told Devin that Bergi's advice had been sound - the chest was trapped. Clever though it was, it was no match for Devin's strange, thin tools and careful touch, and he was quite certain it had been disarmed when he was done tampering with the lock.
            With great care, he opened the lid. The first thing he saw was the jagged, rusty, discolored blade, set to shoot out and stab anyone less cautious than he. Then his attention fell on the accumulated wealth of the Thistletop tribe.
            No doubt culled from junkyards, shipwrecks, ambushed merchants and unfortunate rival tribes, the chest was filled with coins - mostly copper, but also silver and a smattering of gold, and Devin spotted a coin with the sheen of platinum. He poured the contents of a leather pouch into his hand - stones of swirling green pattern, though they were pitted and contaminated with less beautiful rock. Atop the pile of coins lay a human-sized chain shirt and master-stamped scimitar, a solid-looking set of manacles, and a golden symbol of Sarenrae. There was also a half-buried necklace of green stones, and, bizarrely, a fine blue silk gown with silver trim, slightly crumpled but still beautiful.
            Grudky was all but drooling by this time, her eyes locked on what, to her, must be unimaginable wealth. Still, I'Daiin's presence kept her from bulling forward with any ridiculous demands.
            "Well. I don't know how to civilize goblins--if we give them some gold, though, it may placate them for a while. Perhaps they can become fisher-folk and trade with Sandpointians. In any case! Shall we go a-delving below again?" The Shoanti grinned and shrugged at Bergi. "The Shoanti always show restraint. I don't know where you've heard otherwise." He attempted a stony face after this statment.
            “Coin enough, and I believe they will become anything _but_ civilized,” Amrynn said. “But that too would be to our advantage, no? I’ve little interest in lugging around a mountain of copper.”
            The willowy elf had watched on with interest as Devin worked his wiles on the secreted chest. Her edged features hardened a bit as the tawdry display of goblin ‘treasure’ was systematically displayed. But her interest piqued when the silk gown emerged.
            Stepping carefully into the confines, Amrynn whispered a few husky words and her vision filled with fire. She approached to stand beside Devin, and she assessed the contents of the chest for anything bearing magic, conveying as much for her comrades to hear.
            “We must ask in town about any missing followers of Sarenrae,” she reminded herself.
            “I don’t care what else is laying around here that we might have missed,” Bergi barked. “I have a strict one latrine limit.” She harumphed and continued to dialogue with the giant Shoanti standing beside her.
            “I’m with I’Daiin,” she said. “The sooner we can get to the bottom of this, the better. Raz should be fine for awhile with food and water now, might do him some good to regain a bit of strength. But we still have to deal with our ‘other business’.” She stage-nodded at Grudky when the goblin wasn’t looking directly at her.
            "There's more here than we can carry," Devin conceded, assessing the now-organized piles of coins. To Bergi, Devin suggested, "Grant what share you need. Then we can recruit them to run a couple of the lines across the chasm, that they can use to get off the island and away."
            He asked, of Amrynn, "Anything?" clearly interested in what she may have found for dweomers on the arrayed contents.
            “Nothing yet,” Amrynn replied to Devin as she studied the chest, coughing lightly. “It is difficult to concentrate with such a stench.” She held a fist to her mouth and nose and squinted against the tears forming in her eyes. The magic would reveal itself to her one way or the other, even if she had to burn the smell off of this entire cliff. Nothing sparked with magic in the elf's fiery regard; it seemed the goblins' treasure was primarily treasure to a goblin... or, perhaps, a commoner.
            The gown truly gave Devin pause, finding something so fine and in such good condition in a goblin hoarde, and he recalled seeing Amrynn's interest kindle as he'd pulled that clear. He offered a smile equal parts practical and appreciation -- put it to use If she would, for none other could do the fine silks and cut justice. His forward-looking enthusiasm for seeing her in it; or, he had to admit, out of it; was tempered by the holy symbol and the jade necklace also present in the haul. But for a few twists of fate; and that he'd had only simple means when captured by the goblins; some of his own former possessions could've been in this chest. Harsh empathy curled within his chest for the former owner, relieved only for knowing the party was rapidly working to set things right, and the goblins and their crazed mistress had been broken and scattered.
            There was otherwise little here they could put to immediate use, so he suggested aloud, "After the share is paid, let's divide the rest, spread the weight. We can reconcile in town. I suggest we leave the copper, maybe most of the silver, for now."
            Devin rose back to his feet and stepped back, waiting for Bergi to complete her promises and final negotiations with Grudky. He was just as eager, reunited as they all were, to press back under Thistletop and ensure the heart of this place was now cold, but he'd see the goblin females and children off the island, first.
            Rhaina looked over the haul with mixed interest, save for the Golden Holy Symbol, which she took and stashed. “I will see the group recompensed for this, but it must go to a follower of the Dawnflower.
            Devin shook his head, "No recompense needed; that needs to go back, as you say. Appreciate the offer, though."
            “Nothing,” Amrynn exhaled. She shook her head lightly. “Nothing here speaks of the Weave.” She folded the dress gently. “I will carry this for now, but it may likely have belonged to the wielder of Sarenrae’s light.”
            Bergi I agree that we must deal with getting the Goblin women and children off THistletop. So let us do so swiftly. I suspect that we can come up with a swift enough process, so that we may move on to whatever lurks beneath. A great pity we have no lore on this Barghest, but we will trust in the gods to protect us as they have so far” Rhaina said.
            As the party assessed the treasure revealed when Devin opened the chest, Durriken likewise craned his neck to see what had been gained. "Other than funds for resupplying myself and providing for expenses, I would donate my share to those in Sandpoint who lost family. Costs of funerals and damages to buildings are quite substantial to those with little means. If I can help, I would wish to do so."
            Bergi listened to the back and forth about the goblins and nodded at all the right moments, but the diminutive halfling didn’t step a foot nearer to the rancid latrine. Finally when the opportunity presented, she nodded and addressed Grudky in the slippery green tongue.
            <“Wow, that’s a lot of treasure, Grudky,”> she said. <“You’re going to need something to carry it all in. Sacks. Or buckets! Go fetch whatever you think will work, and we’ll fill it up!”>
            Grudky's tiny eyes widened from their suspicious glare as she realized that Bergi intended to keep her end of their agreement! <"Grudky get!"> she all but shrieked, racing off right between Orik's legs. He cursed as she sped by, half-jumping to avoid her.
            Bergi gave Orik the nod to follow Grudky as she pelted away. “Leave her to her business but keep an eye on her, please,” Bergi instructed the dour man. After the motley pair had departed earshot, Bergi said with a shake of her head, “Oh, man, those goblins are going to murder each other.”
            Her prediction proved all too accurate. Grudky wasn't thrilled to have to share "her" treasure with the other goblins, whining that she'd rather bury it somewhere, having found her weak little arms couldn't carry it all, buckets or no. When presented with the buckets and sacks of coins, there was another hair-pulling, clawing, biting brawl among the goblin concubines, and by the time the dust cleared, half of them were knocked out and the others had grabbed what they could and were glaring at each other from opposite nooks of the baby cage room. The babies wailed hungrily, unheeded.
            Orik grunted sourly. "Drop 'em some food and leave them here. I wouldn't trust them on a boat." He glanced at Devin, Amrynn, Rhaina and Durriken. "Or did you have some other plan?"
            Devin sighed, all plans evaporated that he might've harbored for getting the goblins to coordinate running lines across the chasm to shore, that they could all use. Without someone to clout the goblins over the head repeatedly, order them about individually, and carry through on promises of three parts painful motivation to every one part reward, they'd never work cooperatively. The first one to the far side, far from tying off the ropes, would sprint into the briars. Reasoning with them would be more effort than he was willing to invest in the endeavor. As Orik said, they might just need to be left to their own shortsighted devices.
            "Think that one could lead, a bit?" Devin asked Bergi as he pointed at Grudky. "I'm willing to leave two lengths of rope for their use, if among them, they can find a climber, hold the climber's treasure, send the climber across with one rope to tie off, then use it to cross. The climber might earn a double share for the efforts, and we might put some conditions that they have to take the babies with them, too. Enough to at least give them a chance of getting off the island." The way Devin concluded indicated he didn't even give his own suggestion much hope of success, and so in making it he washed his hands of the situation. Any anxieties he harbored now were about being cautious enough to prevent remnant goblin warriors from later using the same ropes to cross back over to the island and ambush them.
            Bergi didn’t even last through half of Devin’s pitch. She was almost guffawing with laughter at the ludicrousness of the greenskins working together with all that coin laying about. She got herself under control quickly enough though and replied kindly in typical Bergi fashion.
            “Devin,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “We came here to put the kaibosh on whatever was getting the goblins to swing fiddle together. That force was Nualia, and I assure you…Grudky is no Nualia. Leave them two towers of rope, and most of them will be swinging by it come nightfall. Either way, we don’t want to encourage any teamwork. At ALL.”
            "No objection at all," Devin replied. He was not wrapped up at all in the goblins' fate; they were merely an obstacle, a variable to be overcome and eliminated. While he didn't want to outright voice putting all the goblin women and children down, the thought had occurred to him more than once as the most efficient -- and safest -- solution. Some reprieve had been earned for the sake of leading them to the hidden treasure cache, but he counted the goblins a significant threat should the party have its collective butt handed to it downstairs, and showed any sign of weakness in having to retreat above to rest.
            Amrynn stood nearby, running delicate enchanted fingers over herself to purge whatever latrine scent she could from her clothing, hair, and skin. The pinched look on her face did not improve when she spoke.
            “The goblins here are responsible for the death of one of the long lived…one of my kinsmen,” she said. “Among others. They wear thin the tenets of common decency.”
            Bergi took a breath and said, “Okay, some middle ground then. Leave them some food and water, and give them a bit of time to sort out their own affairs while we’re below.”
            She held up a staying hand when any sought to intercede.
            “Wouldn’t dream of leaving them untended,” she continued, turning a smile on Orik. “Would I? I’d like you to stay topside here, Orik. Keep the gobbos in line, keep Raz the horse in good health, and make sure no one else tries to call Thistletop home until we get back…or seven nights pass. Think you can manage that? If you can, I’ll split my share of that haul there with you.”
            Bergi watched the mercenary carefully. This was yet another opportunity she was extending, for him to either accept some responsibility and build some trust…or not.
            The barbarian chuckled for a bit at the goblins' neglectful and almost murderous antics, then grew grim. "Enough of goblin nursemaiding. They'll attend to their whelps, or not. We aren't here to change the entirety of goblin civilization. Let us complete the task at hand; go below and scour out any evil that remains. I've sat around enough. Orik! You've done well. Raz is in your hands. I'll owe you for that when I return. If I do not, the horse is yours." A gifting of a horse from a Shoanti was a trusted thing indeed, whether Orik knew that or not.
            “I too am ready to deal with what remains here. Leave the goblins, so long as they understand that we wish them to leave. Let us go” Rhaina said.
            Though not a direct party to the request, Devin nodded, agreeing to Bergi's interim solution. Seven nights gave him pause, though he had to admit they had no idea how deep Thistletop might go. If it was anything more than a day to his reckoning, the goblins topside might be the least of their worries.
            Orik grunted at Bergi and I'Daiin's display of trust, or maybe it was at the prospect of guarding a pack of goblins. Either way, he settled in as the others left, keeping one of the everburning torches that they had acquired in their search of the dungeon.

21


            Having blocked the goblins into the nursery with a heavy crate from the food stores above planted firmly in front of the door, the party ventured below once more. They soon found themselves before the stacked and shiny pillar of oversized, rune-marked gold coins.
            "Not gold," Devin advised the group, from his past experiments on their first visit. "Metal, though. The runes are Thassalonian; all seven of the sins. 'Greed' is a bit more prominent."
            As the party made their way forth deeper into the lower levels of Thistletop, Durriken said, "Per Rhaina's request, I did some information gathering about the baraghest. It seems the they are wolf-like shapeshifters that come from one of the Hellish planes. They are quite powerful fighters who possess some magical abilities and seem to only be effectively damaged with magical weapons. The more humanoid flesh they consume, the more powerful they get."
            Allowing the information to sink in for a moment he continued, "We would be wise to have a plan for this creature before we encounter it."
            "Charming," Devin chuckled in morbid gratitude for knowing what likely lay ahead. He drew a shoulder-rising breath as he considered. "This shortsword is magical. Far be it from me to suggest front-and-center is not my place, but if it comes to it and it needs to be in someone else's hands when we encounter that beast, say so. Other than that, while it's not much, with effort I can invest anything I wield, but only a handful of strikes." Devin cracked a grin at that, and shared, "Caught an uppity mage by surprise with a broken wine bottle with that, once." Realizing how that might make him sound, Devin cleared his throat and assured Amrynn, "He and his buddies had started it."
            Only because it was something he hadn't thought of trying earlier, Devin ran a hand on the column, checking to see if it had any leeway for movement, as a whole or individually. If that was uneventful, he was prepared to try a slightly magical tact, and touch one of the goblins' gold coins to the column to see if anything happened.
            The column felt cool to the touch, the engraved coins rough as one might expect. It did not appear willing to budge, nor did the gold coin produce any more effect than a slight clink.
            "Do we know anything else about this barghest besides that it is resistant to non-magicked items? I have my longsword," said I'Daiin. "One of these days we'll need better weapons. And how large is this beast? I would want to entrap it in a net of some kind, or grapple it, but it is most likely too wily for that. Any way that we can keep its movements limited is best for us."
            The barbarian narrowed his eyes at the coins. "Thassilon is a name used as a curse with the Shoanti. Once, long ago, we were their slaves. Never again." He rubbed his chin. "Perhaps there is a slot in which to put the coins. There's a mechanical fortune teller like that in Kaer Maga."
            Devin nodded acceptance of the suggestion, and started examining the column and the adjoining walls, searching with fingers as well as eyes for any such place as a coin might be placed, or the surface of the column broken by some other remarkable feature. He was prepared to leave the column for now if his search yielded nothing; there were more doors down the corridor.
            Bergi had been quiet since the delving began. She was alert, her eyes flicking wildly back and forth, almost as if she was searching for, or trying to remember, something.
            The tiny dagger was once more illuminated in her grasp, shedding torchlight in the area. She was happy to fling it in any direction when light was needed or requested. She was equally delighted when it snapped back to her hand. Her child-like glee over the simplicity of it never waned.
            “This tiny bit of metal is the only thing I have that could maybe harm the barghest,” she said. “But thick as wonder I’ll keep everyone in top form.”
            “I possess no magical weapons,” Amrynn said. “Other than what I can bring to bear with the Weave.” Then after a moment’s thought, she adds, “There are these though.” She holds up the two wands that belonged to Lyrie. “One launches missiles, the other delivers an electric shock via touch.”
            She then proceeds to explain the particulars of both items to the party, identification, activation, results. She leaves unspoken the understanding of why others might have need to use them.
            Devin searched as Amrynn spoke, and this time, his diligence paid off. Hidden in the shadows of the uneven column, he found not one, but two thin holes, each wide enough for a coin laid flat. There appeared to be a hollow behind the pillar.
            "Ha!" I'Daiin tapped his temple. "Barbarian ingenuity. Hoi, Rhaina, leave some room up front, you shiny grandstander. I'll be at the beast's throat with a sword as well." He arched an eyebrow at Devin. "Which coin should we try?"
            "'Greed' suggests both -- two coins," Devin replied, brought one goblin gold coins to each hand, and smoothly fit them into the two thin holes at approximately the same time.
            As they waked Rhaina listened to the others speak. She realized that she had lucked out here; these were all good people. They were willing to risk everything for the people of Sandpoint, and even go up against a creature such as a Barghest, with little to go on. She thought back to all those she had lost, as well as the ones that had perished since she joined the group; and felt good that they had avenged the caravan, ending the threat that Nualia posed to the entire region. But they were apprehensive about their ability to affect the creature, so she spoke, not only to inform, but also to partly mollify their fears.
            “When we face the Barghest, let me take point Devin. My ability to Smite Evil, will not only allow me to hurt it, but it protects me somewhat from it’s attacks. If I can keep it focussed on me, then Amrynn, as well as those wands can be employed more effectively. I think it will not easily prevail against such force as we can bring” She grinned, an upbeat tone to her voice as she finished. “But if you despair, just remember, you have two Shoanti to protect you.” she added chuckling quietly.
            The slots, placed on either side of the column, were impossible to reach by one man alone, so Devin gave one coin to Bergi, and together they slid the coins into the wall.
            There was a faint clink as the coins vanished into the holes, and then a rumbling began, growing louder. The column of stacked coins shuddered, then slowly began to turn, grinding down into the floor. Revealed beyond it by the light of Bergi's dagger was a wide hall, graced with stone doors ahead and to the left, and another passage to the right. The air was nowhere near as stale as it should have been - in fact, it was as fresh as in the rest of this puzzling ruin, though the dust and rubble on the floor lay undisturbed.
            The floor sloped up towards the doors ahead; Devin thought he could hear something, but it was too faint to pinpoint. Speech, perhaps?
            Devin immediately raised a hand in caution for the group's benefit; hold, and silence, please. He noted the dust on the floor; Lyrie had never made it into these chambers, or if she did, she reached the chambers beyond by some alternate route they hadn't yet discovered. The rumbling surely had already given their arrival away; he didn't yet know what to make of the faint speech-like sounds on the air.
            Devin tapped underneath his right ear twice and pointed ahead; he can hear something. He drew his shortsword to hand, checked his pockets to make certain he had at least two more gold coins in his own personal possession should the column close and need a similar release on the far side, and slunk forward into the chamber. He sheltered behind the corner and took a look to the south to see if the room was open or enclosed in that direction.
            What he spied was another double set of stone doors at the end of a short hallway, but these differed from the others in that they had no handles. An indented outline of a seven-pointed star, its shape covered by hollows and slits, graced the spot where handles should be.
            Devin motioned the group forward with a gesture to remain quiet, if they could. He started a circuit of the doors from the foyer, starting with the doors to the north, listening at each, trying to narrow down the sound. Pressing his ear against the crack in the doors to the left of the column, Devin was certain of it - the sounds were coming from behind them.
            Bergi had prepared innumerable scoffs and sharp retorts at the notion that inserted coins would have some effect on the pillar. She had just been about to launch into a series of them when the giant column started rotating. The tiny halfling leapt down from where she clung, having climbed up to reach the coin slot. The need to jump down helped to erase some of the harshness of her thoughts at not knowing about such intricacies as those currently grinding into existence.
            She swallowed her harumph and followed Devin into the new chamber on silent feet. She didn’t know how he managed to stay as quiet as he did on such thunderously large feet. It was like he was plodding around on ham stilts! Bergi was stepping out an old carnaval three-step without even realizing it, and when the stylized door came into view, she immediately shifted direction twirling toward it.
            ‘That’s a Sihedron star!’ Her mind raced with possibility, and she closed the distance swiftly to have a look. ‘We found one of those, didn’t we? Who carried it, wasn’t it one of the Shoanti?’
            I'Daiin wordlessly nodded to Bergi and tapped his chest. He wrinkled his face in disgust. Is is cursed? he wondered. He drew up near Devin, longsword at the ready, in no mood to parley with whatever lay beyond the doors. what kind of odd and slothful creatures just lurk down here after their queen has been slain? Or was Nualia just a pawn? He cleared the questions from his mind and focused on what would no doubt be bloody, brutal work, the kind that stained the flesh and the soul as well, but was part and parcel of the Sklar-Quah. Lightbringer, grant me the strength to serve you again and continue this battle against the darkness, he prayed under his breath.
            When Bergi got to the door and Devin inevitably noticed her, she etched out the significant star symbol in the air to him with considerable vigor.
            Devin stepped back from the door; his shortsword was held in a guard position, warding the door. He turned enough to catch the eye of the group, and noted Bergi's emphatic gesturing of the significance of the inlay in the door. He scrutinized the inlay from where he was to gain its measure, and nodded, concurring with Bergi of its significance.
            With his free hand, he circled his hand at his sternum, like a medallion, and mouthed, "Nu-Al-La," and nodded; he recognized the symbol from the amulet Nualia had been wearing.
            Separately, he tapped twice below his ear, and pointed at the door to the north, and nodded once, significantly; whatever he was hearing, it was beyond the doors to the north.
            He made clear he intended to open those doors. If there was something down here, if they could get the drop on it, that'd be much preferable to it coming up behind them at some inconvenient moment. He looked about, waiting for the party to ready as they would.
            Bergi gave a wink and thumbs up to I’Daiin and a nod to Devin. She understood their need to deal with immediate threats, despite the scandalous calling of the door bearing the mark of Sihedron.
            She moved closer to support the men against whatever awaited beyond the door of voices. Her own speech rose lightly in a weaving of magic, and as it did, she turned and smiled concurrently at Amrynn.
            Amrynn’s own voice could be heard, and the weave she was summoning was identical to that which Bergi had chosen. The pair of females completed their castings with a shared smile and each laid a hand on their respective targets, Amrynn upon I’Daiin and Bergi upon Devin.
            Coordination was a challenge most times, but on occasion, pieces of the puzzle clicked into place smoothly. Amrynn stood with her staff at the ready, and Bergi positioned herself flat against the wall, cupping the majority of her dagger’s light in her hand. The last thing she wanted was to silhouette her allies when the door opened, plus she knew that Rhaina would be barreling in right behind her Shoanti counterpart.
            Once all that would prepare had, Devin stood to the side and reached to open the north door enough to see beyond it...
            The door grated the rest of the way open with a little effort, and light flooded the room beyond for the first time in what may have been thousands of years. Within, a marble throne was perched on an upraised dais, flanked by two towering figures - statues, it became apparent after a tense moment. The men depicted both clutched a book and a glaive, yet it was the figure on the throne that caught their eye. It appeared to be the man the statues had been modeled after, but he seemed strangely immaterial, ghostly even.
            His hands, the fingers decorated with hooked rings, moved about as he spoke, but the phantom's words were difficult to make out, and in some strange language none of them had ever heard before.
            None of them but Devin.
            <"...is upon us, but I command you to remain. Witness my power, how Alaznist's petty wrath is but a flash compared to my strength. Take my final work to your graves, and let its memory be the last thing you...">
            The Thassilonian words, strange even to Devin's ears, but understood after a moment to think, faded away... and then the man began his spiel again. And again. And again.
            Durriken stood at the back of the group as the doors open revealing the large statues and the strange ethereal form speaking an ancient language. Not understanding the language he waited to see if anyone understood it and would share its contents. While waiting, the cleric pulled his mace from his belt and held it tightly, waiting for signs of attack. He scanned the ceiling and sides of the room that he could see while he awaited news from the front of their ranks.
            The Sklar-Quah barbarian bared his teeth. "Spirits of the dead," he hissed. "He said 'power'." I'Daiin paused, listening. "Something...? Ah, blast, I can't grasp the rest." I'Daiin paused again, relaxing his haunches a little. "That fellow's caught in a loop."
            Devin observed the manifestation as it repeated its rambling three times over, without significant change in posture, meaning, cadence, or attention. Knowing that Rhaina was on guard in these catacombs, he looked to her to determine if the image was real, and if it had an evil cast to it; he relaxed slightly at her negative affirmation. Ghosts, spectres, wraiths, shadows; all those things would be facing drawn Shoanti steel by now, he imained. Neutral, he'd take. Thus, he didn't make special efforts to close the door before stepping back to the main body of the foyer with the group. He looked to Durriken, as well, wondering if the priest sensed some chill of undeath that Devin couldn't perceive.
            "'Something' is upon us; he starts in mid-sentence. He then 'commands you to remain,' speaking to someone unknown, indeterminate singular or plural. 'Witness my power,' and 'how Alaznist's petty wrath is but a flash compared to my strength.' Finally, 'Take my final work to your graves,' -- definitely plural, there -- 'and let its memory be the last thing you 'something'. As he starts, so he ends, in mid-sentence. Repeats the same thing, over and over. He's speaking in Thassilonian."
            Devin shrugged, adding one bit of editorial commentary, "Wouldn't invite him to a party, but the exposition and hyperbole is consistent with Thassilonian ruling-class culture. Ties nicely right into that," and Devin pointed to the Star upon the southern doors, across the foyer. "I didn't note any other exits from that room; I think we should let him lie for now, close the doors, investigate elsewhere, first."
            With no objections voiced, Devin shut the doors to the throne room, leaving the ghost of the past to his interim ramblings. Sleeping dogs.
            The doors with the stars seemed to be the most important... so Devin purposefully elected to save those for last, thinking whatever down here was biggest and nastiest would probably be beyond them. Though the foyer was crowded with tense-and-ready party members, with a brief, 'Excuse me,' smile, Devin went to the eastern double doors and started checking them over for traps. This dungeon had had more than its share of interesting mechanisms; intuition suggested a measure of caution on these doors, so readily presented across from the column.
            If he found no reason for his caution, he was prepared to open one of the eastern doors enough to spy to the space beyond.
            Finding nothing suspicious about the doors, Devin pushed one open, revealing stairs that led up to an oblong room. From the door, Devin could see that the rounded room contained three low tables with something upon them - and a collection of bones on the floor by the table on his right.
            Bergi had turned and was most of the way to the star door when she heard Devin open the other door from this chamber. She stopped abruptly, eyes rolling upward. She exhaled, twirled an about face and meandered over to the newly revealed doorway, leaning in to have a peek.
            “Cuh-reepyyy,” she trilled. “These Thassiluvian muldoons certainly have the dark and foreboding bit down for such an ancient bunch.”
            “Ancient does not mean inept, Bergi,” Amrynn replied. “Great power has walked the world long before history has recounted. From what has been written, the Thassilonian Empire was not to be trifled with lightly.”
            “Mmm,” Bergi conceded but then added, “From what I’ve learned, the longer you lurk in dark places, the more likely you are to find what’s living there. Do we really have to turn over every rock right now?”
            "Yes," Devin replied succinctly. "We're here to neuter this place. That means being thorough, and not leaving nasty stuff at our backs." Devin shut the eastern double doors leading to the oval room, the pile of bones, and the three biers, explaining with an economy of reasoning, "No immediate exits, nothing moving on its own; it can wait. Bergi, let's check out that star."
            Devin moved to the southern double doors and began a similar investigation of the portal and the area, mindful for traps. He half-expected to find an indentation upon the doors or adjacent to the them that would be about the right size to receive the Star amulet Nualia had worn, that Devin believed I'Daiin now carried in ward.
            By the light of Bergi's dagger, Devin found no traps - but, other than the star-indentation that spanned the middle of the two doors, much too large for the amulet to fit, he found no other Sihedron indentations, either.
            "Here we go, then," Devin breathed. He turned and advised the party, "Mind the doors to the north, in case this upsets the Circling Phantom."
            Devin waited for everyone to position as they would, then attempted to gently open the doors to the south to see what lay beyond the star.
            The stone doors didn't budge.
            Devin investigates the star a bit more thoroughly, suspecting it may be some sort locking mechanism... though he can't imagine someone carrying around something so large as to be the key. If he finds nothing, he's prepared to go back to the biers, to see if there's anything illuminating in that chamber.
            Other than the hollows and slits he had noted before, which speckled the indented surface of the Sihedron, there didn't appear to be anything of note about the star-shaped impression.
            Taking Bergi with him for her light, Devin returned to the center room, going up the stairs to examine the low tables. He skirted the pile of bones on the floor - strange, he thought, that there appeared to be too many bones to be one skeleton, but too few to be two.
            In fact, the longer he looked at it, the more it looked like the skeleton of a two-headed man, with a smaller man growing from the small of his back.
            The tabletops were covered with a strange and chilling selection of exquisitely made tools, saws, long-bladed knives, and objects whose purpose was not readily apparent. On the leftmost table was an object that caught his attention - a silver-and-gold seven-pointed star, one surface studded with nodules and blades, the other featuring a thin, curved handle.
            "Is that a defect of birth in those bones there, Devin, or something from our friend Nualia's patroness? I wonder how old these bones are," commented I'Daiin, not overly concerned at the gruesome sight of the bones. "And is this a place where a chirurgeon worked? Perhaps that star with the handle over there is a key." He shook his shorn head. "Thassilon. No doubt something awful and decadent was enacted here."
            "I don't think Nualia ever came in here, past the column," Devin replied. "But seems to follow the theme, agreed."
            “Star with a handle?!” Bergi chirped. “Where?” She scurried over to where I’Daiin had roughly indicated.
            “Orik gi--” she started to ask the mercenary, then realized he wasn’t there. “Bah, getting spoiled.” Bergi leapt up and grabbed a hold of the edge, shimmy hoisting herself up onto one elbow so she could see. Her eyes widened with delight.
            “Ooooo,” she said and reached for the pointy item. She lost her grip under the weight of her gear though and toppled to the floor unceremoniously. The tiny, glowing dagger went skidding across the floor, then just as quickly snapped back into her splayed palm.
            Devin was a little too slow to arrest Bergi's tumble, but offered an outstretched hand to aide in her recovery, at the least. "I agree; looks like it'd fit. Be ready for something nasty to protest."
            Amrynn lingered near the massive doors, slow to relinquish them. She studied the intricate work with delicate fingers, walking the tips across the various formations. She closed her eyes and pressed close to the stone, running her nose up the length of an imaginary seam.
            Was that fire she smelled? Or ash?
            The chatter and calamity from the other chamber disrupted the moment and brought Amrynn’s head around to search the hallway behind her. When she returned her attention to the stone, the sensations were gone.
            She relied on her instincts though, and the party had been wandering these dark halls long enough to stir something soon, no doubt. The words of the Weave came to her, and she enveloped herself in their power once more. Now warded, she drew one of Lyrie’s wands to hand, just in case.
            With care, Devin took hold of the 'key' by its handle and lifted it from the table. He adjusted his grip once or twice, and steadied it with a tentative hand at its side well clear of the blades adorning its face. He gathered this item was unique, and while he wasn't prone to dropping things, they likely couldn't continue were this particularly-ungainly item bent or damaged.
            "Let's go try it."
            Devin proceeded back to the foyer and approached the star-inset doors to the south, turning the star to align as best he could judge the pattern, to see if it and its scale were a match enough to seat the "key" into the door.
            As it happened, Desna smiled on the group - the odd tool, or key, was a perfect fit. With a twist of his wrist, the doors swung open.

22


            Light spilled out of the room, a flickering glow that cast long shadows back into the hall lit only by Bergi's dagger. Just as premonition had told Amrynn, the light came from a ten-foot-long firepit in the center of the room that was revealed; the humid head was like the most hot, still day of summer, and smelled of burning hair. On closer inspection, the "pit" was only a few inches deep, and held no fuel for the flames that they could see.
            Across from the door, the wall bore an immense carving of a seven-pointed star.
            A glance to either side of the door found wooden risers in the corners, each holding several dozen golden candles that showed no sign of having melted, despite being lit. Otherwise, the room appeared empty.
            Bergi whistled, long and warily, as the doors swung open. “That was a little too convenient, a little too easy here in the belly of the beast.”
            “Indeed, have a care, Devin,” Amrynn added. The lean elf had actually taken a step or two backward when the heat and stench rolled out.
            Devin, eyes forward and alert, gave one exaggerated, slow nod of acknowledgment visible to all behind.
            Devin stepped forward into the room. Prepared but provided that nothing leapt from the flames to consume him, he began skirting the room counterclockwise, to make his way around to the large star that made up a significant part of the south wall. As much as the previous room did, this room felt like an antechamber to him, and he was curious if the south star was another portal to another chamber.
            Bergi slunk forward after Devin and slipped in one side of the doorway, hugging the wall. Her dagger was all but buried against her, shielding most of the light. Amrynn lingered in the rear, following those before here, but she balked at the threshold, eyes roving the flaming darkness for what awaited them.
            Nothing unfortunate happened to Devin as he skirted the firepit and approached the star. As far as Amrynn could tell, nothing living awaited the party in the flame-lit room.
            The heat was oppressive; Devin shifted this way and that as he moved, trying to avoid keeping any part of his body from having to face the flames for overlong. Already he felt sweat breaking out and starting to bead on his brow and damp his back and chest, beneath his armor. He felt an urgency to get out of this room to the cooler air of the foyer, but kept his mind on the task at hand. As before, Devin's careful eyes and fingers began examining the south wall of the chamber, expecting that there'd be a further passage, here. He accepted that this triad of rooms beyond the column may be a purpose unto themselves; a receiving chamber, a preparation chamber, and this as some sort of ceremonial finial, but wished to be modestly certain of that before trying other courses.
            The Paladin was impressed by the teamwork shown by Devin,Bergi and Amrynn. Their search patterns and deductions were quite brilliant, but when they reached the fire pit, Rhaina laid her hand on her cousin’s shoulder. “Devin allow I’Daiin to assist you in searching. As a Sklar Quah Shoanti, this heat is as nothing to his people.”
            She suddenly remembered what she had been carrying in her pack and fished out a potion vial, keeping her sword in one hand she moved to the half-elf’s side and passed him the vial.
            “Drink it. It is a potion of Endure Elements” She stepped back after he took the vial from her, and while she was in the room already, she took a round to do a 360 view of the room , while sensing for any evil, that might now be in range.
            Still nothing showed the dark aura of an evil heart.
            "This is a spring day in the Cinderlands," said I'Daiin, making his way about the chamber. "Mm, are any of these candles magicked in a way different than the rest? Perhaps you lift one and the secret panel opens. Demons and dogs, this is like a chapbook," he said with a laugh. "Where's the dragon?"
            Bergi openly winced at I’Daiin’s temptation of fate. Never tempt a dragon sighting!
            The chamber was indeed stifling, but the hardy halfling wasn’t about to duck and run just from a little heat. She brought a little more light to bear from the dagger, and then provided full illumination for Devin’s investigation, hurling the tiny light source from one end of the room to the other.
            Amrynn held her ground but did not go in. The heat was oppressive. Her slender form was shielded by the doorway, but she watched through slitted eyes as Devin performed his investigations.
            ‘Spires of the heavens, but it was hot!’ she thought. Worried about the nature of the fiery pit, she summoned the weave and began studying it with her enhanced vision.
            Magic blazed into view in her vision, while Devin came up blank on the first patch of wall, and was about to move on to another when a whisper sounded out of thin air, speaking words that were, at first, unintelligible; then, something else. It took long moments for Devin to attach meaning to the Thassilonian words.
            <"Who intrudes?">
            Durriken had remained quiet as the group made its way through the new areas, "No sense adding to the noise," he thought. Besides, the others seemed to be much more comfortable with this search and clear method than he was. Scanning the areas for any signs of the bagrest or anything that might be a threat, he was still caught off guard as the voice broke through the operational silence that the group had fallen into. The words were unfamiliar to him but sounded like a question, perhaps a challenge. More keenly aware of danger, Durriken held his action while staying alert for any signs of ambush. Should an assault begin he was ready to assist his comrades.
            Bergi froze in her tracks when the voice was heard. She began retracing her steps, almost comically, toward the door without turning around. Her delicate feet were silent as she slowly withdrew.
            “The chamber swims with magic, Devin,” Amrynn warned, and she continued to study the ebb and flow of the energies in the room. She wanted to give him as much information as she could, but time raced against her.
            Devin had accepted the vial from Rhaina with an appreciative nod, but had tucked it into the wrist of his armor rather than consuming it at the moment. While the heat was uncomfortable, it was not yet life-threatening, and he would hold such magic until it needed to be used.
            Now seemed like a good time, and he drank it down for the aid it would offer against the heat and what might dwell within it. He turned towards the middle of the room as he began skirting it sideways, moving back towards the embossed doors to the foyer with slow purpose. He caught the eye of each of his friends, showing caution, but not panic.
            <"None intend intrusion,"> he responded to the air itself. <"This place has been lost for many, many years. We are here to understand it. Do you name that a trespass?">
            His response had taken priority, in due regard to the owner of the voice, and that it may consider for a few moments. His eyes stayed alert throughout the room and his swordhand settled to hilt, but did not drawn. "It asked 'who intrudes,'" he explained in the common tongue, "and I responded we are explorers, that this place was lost for a long time."
            <"YES!"> The sudden transformation of the whisper to a roar of such magnitude was shocking, as was the enormous wolf's skull that abruptly appeared on the body of a gaunt, horrific frame and snapped at Bergi with its dreadful jaws. The only thing that saved her was the odd flicker of its body, as though it weren't entirely real. At the critical moment, it seemed to simply vanish, and though it reappeared in the blink of an eye, Bergi had scrambled out of reach by then.
            Bergi squealed as the wolf-thing descended upon her. She whirled and spun her tiny frame enough to get clear without harm, but a look of abject shock…and then anger…descended upon her features when the sliced remnants of the ribbon in her hair flapped down onto her face.
            Amrynn could see that the strongest magic was concentrated around the strange creature, though there were also weaker glimmers from the candles in either corner.
            The thing reared up, its head all but scraping the ceiling. The eyes behind that wolf-skull held little of sane reason in them. Two impossibly long fingers, unnaturally articulated and tipped in black claws, protruded from the rags that wrapped it.
            Enraged by Bergi and Devin's escape, it turned those claws, and its terrible fangs, on Rhaina. This time, its reality was not in question. It mauled her with incandescent fury, worrying her from side to side like a dog - and then, for just an instant, it vanished again. It was long enough for Rhaina to recover her balance and look into the creature's heart...
            ...and still, she found no evil there.
            With the sudden attack from the darkness, Durriken reacted with the incantation prayer he had held in preparation for this moment. Quickly reciting a quick prayer to Pharasma he called upon her protective energies to support and protect his comrades. Everyone in sight of Durriken felt the cool, calming touch of Pharasma's blessing fall upon them as Durriken prayed.
            Amrynn could see that the strongest magic was concentrated around the strange creature, though there were also weaker glimmers from the candles in either corner.
            The thing reared up, its head all but scraping the ceiling. The eyes behind that wolf-skull held little of sane reason in them. Two impossibly long fingers, unnaturally articulated and tipped in black claws, protruded from the rags that wrapped it.
            Enraged by Bergi and Devin's escape, it turned those claws, and its terrible fangs, on Rhaina. This time, its reality was not in question. It mauled her with incandescent fury, worrying her from side to side like a dog - and then, for just an instant, it vanished again. It was long enough for Rhaina to recover her balance and look into the creature's heart...
            ...and still, she found no evil there.
            The way it at stared at Devin with a mixed moment of ire and frustration made Devin consider if the creature was fully confined to the chamber. Surely it could've taken one step and grabbed for him, if he were truly its fury's first target? And that flickering... like it was part of the flame, itself. Manifested in a similar manner to the fuel-less pit.
            No reason to fight this thing on its home ground if the foyer was beyond its reach. At minimum, the foyer lacked the footing hazard of that flaming pit.
            "Rhaina; I'Daiin -- tactics! We need to bring it out of that room, into the foyer!" Devin yelled for the dual purposes of testing his hypothesis and trying to frame regrouping in the foyer as anything other than a retreat (which, so phrased, he knew would be soundly ignored).
            Devin held his ground and summoned the shadows to himself; he could feel the chill infuse his muscles and sharpen his wits, and his stance shifted to a lighter, quicker balance. Those same shadow forces then split and gathered in his off-hand, which he flung forward at the huge wolf-headed creature to take some of the fight out of it.
            Despite its constantly flickering form, the shadows sank into the creature's body and disappeared, making it snarl and bat at them reflexively, as though trying to wipe insects off its patchy-furred torso.
            “I cannot detect Evil, but this must be the Barghest. Devin is correct, everyone withdraw from this room, now!” Rhaina said.
            Somehow, the horribly wounded paladin managed to avoid the creature's claws and escape into the hall, followed by a grumbling I'Daiin. His grumbles ended when the enormous thing lunged after him, snapping dagger-teeth down on his skin - and then vanishing as he stepped into the hall. It reappeared a moment later - but it didn't chase him. Instead it screamed with incandescent fury, slamming its fists into the stone floor over and over, hurling words that Devin didn't understand, the Thassilonian texts he had studied not having covered anything impolite - though their intent was fairly clear. It appeared Devin was correct - the thing could not, or would not, pass the threshhold.
            Bergi pulled the two streamers from her hair and began whipping them through the air. The wondrous notes and twirling dance soon followed, and the wee halfling spun like a top around the entrance to the chamber. Her voice only amplified the beautiful display wrought by the spinning ribbons and glowing dagger she still held.
“Amidst shadow’s gloom and fire’s rage,
Where the beasts of Lamashtu dwell,
Take heart, my friends,
Take heart, I say,
And think of the stories we’ll tell!
When we walk the path of the warrior,
And follow the path of the true,
Feel the power beating inside,
Where none can stop that BOOM!
Down in the core of Thistletop’s gore,
Awash in the murk and mire and muck,
Take heart, my friends,
Take heart, I say,
For our story is blessed with luck!
When we walk the path of the wizard,
And seek the knowledge of truth,
Feel the power beating inside,
Where none can stop that BOOM!”

            And on and on Bergi whirled and sung. How she managed to maintain her poise with such a perpetual rotation and varied, rhythmic chant of words was anyone’s guess, but that was part of what made the diminutive bard what she was.
            Reversing his approach Durriken focused on the creature attacking them. He concentrated on tracking it and when it appeared again he cast his spiritual weapon in hopes of helping the party keep track of the creature. The ethereal dagger appeared in the air once again attempting to strike the creature and follow its movement. The dagger swooped in at the beast - but it flickered out of sight just as Pharasma's holy weapon flew past, and the dagger drew no blood.
            Amrynn heard, but she saw none of it. She continued to examine the magics at play in the room, not wanting to lose her focus just yet. More could be gleaned, and she did not wish to waste the time she had already invested. The others would have to hold for a few moments longer before she could bring the dragon to their aid.
            The longer she stared, the more certain she became: while there was an aura of moderate strength on the creature, the other auras were faint, even though there was one more than when she had begun her study. The telltale warp of reality told her volumes... but both the strongest aura and the weakest evaded her understanding.
            The red eyes in that flayed skull met hers, and the force of the fury in them took even her aback. Then it made a curt gesture, and one of the auras around it faded. Squeezing up against the wall, its gaunt belly all but showing its spine, it edged around the firepit, then prowled into the far corner, out of her view... though Devin and Bergi could still see it.
            <"You can't keep me here forever,"> it rasped in that ancient tongue, adding a word that Devin didn't know, but that its tone suggested was contemptuous. <"I have been promised my freedom, and it will come. Think well on whose side of this war you stand.">
            Devin exhaled sharply when the lairbeast -- barghest it may be -- did not or could not follow. He thought quickly back over the last few moments, assessing. "I've learned one or two colorful insults, I think," he grinned. "It states it is imprisoned, and has been promised freedom, and war is coming."
            It also didn't appear to have any means to cause harm but its own claws and bite, which were confined to the space, but appeared vulnerable to at least some spells that were not confined. Rhaina's report of its neutral nature made Devin hold from attacking. He put out an arm and motioned as if to coax the party back from the door to put some distance away from the beast, but stopped the impulse when he realized others needed to yet act as they would. He had no means to aid Rhaina, so had to trust she was being tended.
            "You are cloaked, or your heart isn't evil. Speak with us and perhaps we need not be so quick to close the doors again," Devin posed to the lairbeast in Thassalonian.
            Worth a shot. He had one hand already outstretched towards the chamber's doors, preparing to close them and leave this creature to its wait.
            Bergi didn’t even quite realize they weren’t in immediate danger, such was her investment in her song. She kept whirling and whipping around the legs of the big folk around her with manic glee, the BOOMS pelting from her with each new chorus.
            Devin took no steps to interrupt Bergi, recognizing the advantage she was granted to all, should the lairbeast have some tricks it had not yet thrown, or should they decide to press the attack.
            Amrynn watched the creature slink out of her vision, and she stalked forward in response. She raised a staying hand to Devin’s attempt at intercession as she drew up dangerously close to the plane of the doorway.
            “It is cloaked,” she said, moving her raised hand to meet the plane of the doorway and caressing what energies lingered there without breaking into the room. “But they are fading.”
            She casts a dismissive sidelong glance at the beast and continues watching the chamber with her enhanced vision, somewhat mesmerized by the intricacies involved.
            Tense though the situation was, Devin cracked a prideful grin as Amrynn dismissed his brief attempt to ward and instead stepped forward to survey the chamber. Ballsy. He stayed within reach of her, not trusting that the lairbeast was truly fully confined. It could likely hurl things from the room as readily as the party could hurl things at it. It didn't seem to carry any weapons, but there might be things making up the candle tables in the corners that Devin would prefer Amrynn not be brained with. He left his questions, posed to the lairbeast, hanging upon the air.
            "I've asked it, since it -- hopefully -- can't kill us out here, if it would speak with us," Devin explained.
            Not convinced the creature isn't a threat, Durriken maintains the spiritual weapon No longer attacking, the dagger flew back to hover by Durriken.
            Several seconds of silence stretched out as the creature considered Devin's words. <"You... are not who I thought,"> it finally rasped in the dead tongue. <"Speak, stranger. I will listen.">
            The lairbeast's response brought Devin up short. He shared an incredulous glance with the party, and he anticipated from the creature's change in tone and brevity that they might well have gained the reason for Devin's mild surprise and momentary loss of words. He did not interrupt Bergi's song or Amrynn's examination or Rhaina's ministration to her wounds; this conversation could continue against those backgrounds.
            Devin gathered his thoughts and replied in Thassilonian, <"These chambers appear untouched for years, or longer. What bound you here, who bargains your freedom for what terms, and what war does that herald?"> He considered mentioning Nualia, and the goblins, but doubted the creature directly knew of either, as there were no signs Devin had noted that the column had been opened or the foyer breached, before the party themselves did so. He prepared to restate both his questions and the reply he may receive, for the party's benefit.
            <"You... do not know the masters of this world, and their war?"> The creature seemed nonplussed, to judge by its tone. <"I have been here many years, stranger... many, many years. Far too many. Perhaps there has been a victor, and it was not my mistress. Tell me, stranger... who rules in the world outside?">
            Given the dedications of the temple above, and Nualia's coming here... Devin presumed the creature may be naming Lamashtu as its mistress. Devin didn't wager the guess aloud.
            <"The gods are in balance, as are the people,"> Devin replied honestly. <"Civilization is ascending, though there are many lands now unexplored and much knowledge forgotten from your time. The Empire of Thassilon fractured and fell under the onslaught of the Earthfall; remnants are scattered of its peak, in the waning years of what we now call the Age of Legend. If it is a war you speak of, it has either come to pass and conclusion many years ago, or is a dark portent; I do not know which.">
            <"Do you know where you are, of the place outside that holds this prison?">
            <"War comes and goes, stranger. Even empires die. Only the gods live on... and I."> It didn't seem overly upset about what Devin had told it. Another few moments of silence passed. <"I know of many things, stranger. Things that belong to another age. Is that why you have come? Perhaps we may deal, you and I.">
            <"Perhaps, but perhaps not, as I wager our deals would be one-sided, much as I don't believe you've answered a single question I've posed, and volunteered less. My caution is raised; my trust thus far, nonexistent. Not as a threat, but I state I will leave this 'exchange' shortly, unless an exchange it actually develops to be. I've not the wit to try to maneuver with so many words, if that is the game you set.">
            Bergi toned it down a little, sensing a shift in the performance. She paused briefly to summon herself a small lyre, and then set about maintaining a bit more of a stolid backdrop for what were clearly negotiations of some sort.
            Amrynn maintained her vigil next to Devin. She was still focused on the chamber and the imprisoned creature in due course, watching for any change or warning signs of magic.
            The creature snarled, pounding the floor and scraping the stone with its long claw-fingers. It grabbed the rack of candles and hurled it at the far side of the room, demolishing the rack and sending candles flying everywhere; one even bumped Amrynn's foot. Then it tore at its own flesh, claws scraping over the skull that was its face - and those watching had the awful inkling of an idea that perhaps the skull was its face, with the skin and muscle torn away in a rage.
            And an instant later, it turned back to Devin, speaking calm as you please but for a bit of heavy breathing. <"You wish to know who bound me here? Their names are dust in the wind of history, but they served Karzoug. Now they are dead and gone, while I remain here. Answer me this, in return: How came you to find me, in this wretched prison? Which of you holds the key?">
            Durriken maintained his concentration on his spell, keeping the ethereal dagger hovering above his head. He didn't trust this creature and would hold his spell until his allies were satisfied or the creature attacked again.
            <"I answer, in return -- we did not come to find you, we came to both explore this place out of adventurous curiosity, and to confirm it held no further threats to the nearby towns. We cut through and drove out the goblins, and the broken woman who was lairing here. I don't know the 'key' you speak of, but if you're asking who unlocked the doors to this room, it was I."> Devin said.
            <"I see,"> the creature said in a considering tone.
            <"I appreciate the exchange. Is Karzoug one of the masters of this world of which you spoke, and a participant in the greater war you anticipate continues to the present?"> Devin gauged the reactions of the party with a surveying glance. <"The name is not known to any of us, here. Whom do you serve, that the followers of Karzoug so opposed?">
            <"The war between Karzoug and Alaznist, whom I served, was never-ending. Until, it seems, it ended."> The creature motioned towards the rooms behind the party. <"Here I was brought, to be tortured and questioned. Long have I waited for release. Sometimes... I forget how long it has been."> It brushed a long-fingered, inhuman hand over its ruined face, a thoughtless gesture that seemed habit rather than purposeful.
            <"But you are no creatures of Karzoug's. Will you give me the key, so that I may leave? In return, I would grant you knowledge the likes of which has been long gone from this world. Or, should you prefer, I would destroy an enemy you have. It is in your hands.">
            <"Our roles reversed, you must agree that would not yet be wise of me,"> Devin had to caution, expecting another frenetic outburst from the creature. Indeed, the creature tore at its already patchy and bandaged hide as a deep growl resonated through the room, but it subsided as Devin continued.
            <"I do not say so to tease, nor to torture, and so ask for patience. As long as it has been, true, you are no longer forgotten in this place. Abide us a while longer, to learn of the matters you have spoken. I cannot promise how long that may take, but you've already spoken of the differences in our scales of time, so it may not seem like much. I need one further piece -- by what name are you most uniquely known?">
            <"My name...? There is a thing I have not thought on for ages..."> The strange creature rubbed a hand over its skull again, squinting with concentration as it tried to summon the knowledge. <"At the tip of my tongue... it's... Jhorhesh!"> It raised a fist in triumph as it successfully brought forth the name. <"Ahh... it is good to speak it once more. To speak with anyone other than my self, truth be told.">
            It sat, leaning against the wall. <"And what is your name, may I ask? Will you truly leave me here to rot another thousand years? What more can I offer for my freedom?">
            The beast's dichotomy held Devin's answer back as he collected his thoughts, and for a moment his face was an odd reflection of the concentration the creature itself had apparently brought to bear to remember its own name. Devin was relatively certain the name, 'Jhorhesh,' was not one he had heard before. Durriken's wary stance and ready, ethereal dagger; Amrynn's vigilant scrunity of the chamber; Bergi's plucking of the lyre to maintain readiness; all set the tone of Devin's thoughts and seemed to prompt them to flow.
            He turned to Rhaina, silently and patiently waiting if was still tending to her injuries, which took precedence. Only once she had a moment to spare did he ask her, "Do you still have the journal pages with you? May I see them again?"
            Devin skimmed through Tsuto's journal pages and musings, and paused upon one of them. He carefully checked the front and back of each page again, reading with more detail, minutes elapsing as he did so. He arranged the tattered pages in a stack, just so, and held them together with his fingers splayed underneath to support them and his thumb curled, its tip resting adjacent to Tsuto's scrawled name of, 'Malfeshnekor," and the passage describing how Nualia was fascinated with the, "lower chambers," and Malfeshnekor's "release." As he purposefully turned the pages for each party member to see what he was indicating, and give them a chance each to read it as well, his expression suggested cautious scrutiny implying his conclusion, and a request that they each either correct or supplement the information he was about to act upon, if he was wrong. Back turned to the firey prison, his eyes flicked indicatively towards the lairbeast, and then to the room to the north -- one of them could well be Malfeshnekor.
            Devin had to consider that his earlier conclusion may have been wrong; Nualia may have actually made it this far. She may have even spoken with Jhorhesh, or the spectrous liege to the north. Or maybe she only knew they were supposed to be here, from insights from Lamashtu, and hadn't yet figured out how to open the column -- for if she'd had, surely she would've been able to find the studded disc-like key, and place it within the recess in the door, as Devin had done? But no, Amrynn's findings from Nualia's journals made it clear Nualia had never made it this far, and from the visions Nualia had recorded, this goblin wolf-demon in front of them was Malfeshnekor.
            They didn't know what the barghest might be capable of it, but it was certainly powerful; powerful enough to nearly kill one of Devin's strongest friends in moments. That wasn't something you toyed with. It made Devin already wonder if he was imperiling them all by even having as much conversation with it as he had thus far. It had already demonstrated it could throw things past the threshold of its prison.
            Devin carefully handed Tsuto's journal pages back to Rhaina. He turned back to the lairbeast, who was likely still awaiting Devin's answer with feigned calm and malignant raging impatience.
            <"Vinz,"> Devin replied, somewhat apologetically, under an attempted-convincing show to still appear distracted over his thoughts. <"Vinz Clortho.">
            <"I'm at an impasse, Jhorhesh. You offer much, but the things you speak of, I don't know of. Much less, from what little we've found here so far, I don't know how to release you from this prison. What would you need us to do? I need to confirm what you have told us, then we will return. Until then, for all concerned, we will need to leave this place as we found it, and you must wait. Faith.">
            Amrynn had watched the two while they had spoken, and seen the aura of transmutation fade away. As it did, the creature ceased to flicker like a candle flame, and became quite apparently solid.
            Jhorhesh - or was it Malfeshnekor? - nodded tiredly at Devin's deception, and turned away. Amrynn saw a brief bloom of magic emanate from it before it turned back and asked in that strange tongue, <"Would you walk away when all it would take to free me would be to give me the key that opened these doors, Vinz Clortho? After I have pledged to aid you? I am sick of this place, do you not understand? Would you not be, after so long? I know my appearance must be terrible, but you have no need to fear me. I will swear it, if you will only let me go."> The creature seemed quite earnest, its sincerity carried well by its bearing.
            The aura began to fade immediately, but Amrynn believed it to be an enchantment.
            <"Peace. Faith. I do understand. Show me I have no need to fear you, and demonstrate patience. I must understand more of what you speak. You are now known, here; there is new hope in that. We will return.">
            Devin gathered the doors that he had swung out after he had turned the key, and swung them back closed. Once he had gathered the doors back closed, he intended to turn the key back and pull it free from the doors by its handle again.
            The creature didn't move from its seat against the wall, but as the doors closed again, a despairing wail was audible even from behind the stone.

23


            With finality, Devin secured the doors and pulled the unwieldy key from its recess. He was surprised that Malfeshnekor's wail penetrated the prison, and the stone, and so carefully minded his words. If they could hear Malfeshnekor at his peak, it stood to reason Malfeshnekor could as easily hear them, supernatural wolf-like perceptions or not. The key held carefully in one hand by its handle, Devin raised his other free hand in front of himself and gazed at it, rotating it slightly by his wrist; he was not surprised to see it trembling, echoing the pulse pounding in his ears and the weight of how close to death they'd all just been, stepping blithely into the eternally-flaming prison of a mad demon or fiend, and one with the direct attention of Lamashtu.
            Devin looked through the foyer back to where the golden column had receded into the floor, and surveyed the party silently, asking that they all step out of this foyer and the three rooms from it, to the L-shaped hall beyond the column, and back to the Nualia's study to the north. With that distance established; overcautious, perhaps; they could talk.
            I'Daiin grumbled about letting the creature live as they left the hidden hall, but came along with the others nonetheless.
            "This," Devin raised the key indicatively, "this we need to case, and secure far from here. Someday, maybe we'll need something from Malfeshnekor. Someday, maybe we can destroy him. But I don't know when. Until then, I'd have no others able to as readily find him nor potentially release him. He's been there for millennia. Let him stay there."
            "The apparition in the throne room to the north; the words it repeated, it denigrated Alaznist, and 'Alaznist's petty wrath.' From Malfeshnekor's words, I suspect the apparition wasn't Karzoug himself; maybe someone who served Karzoug. If this was one of Karzoug's bastions in Thassilonian times, then Karzoug was of 'greed', and Alaznist, whom Malfeshnekor served in some capacity, was captured and bound here as part of that war. It's probably a stretch, but Alaznist may have been of 'wrath,' another of the Thassilonian foundations of power, or sins; the runes on the column. I'm making a lot of assumptions, and it likely doesn't amount to much, anyway; Thassilon lies in ruin and legend, save for dangerous remnants like Malfeshnekor. Doesn't explain why there's that dark temple upstairs, unless Nualia oversaw that construction just recently."
            Devin looked about the room's contents for something that might be able to hold the key, that could then be secured in a backpack without the blades punching through at an inconvenient time.
            "Let's explore where that wide corridor leads, away from the coins-column. Yea?"
            Bergi’s song had faded out as Devin had read Tsuto’s journal pages. She stood somber and uncertain from then on as the negotiations were translated. Finally, when the doors closed, she shivered.
            She looked at the group with wide eyes, “No good will come of dealings with that thing. I’d be alright with you smashing that key into a thousand pieces.”
            “Though I expect there are others,” Amrynn said. Her enhanced vision continued, if only for a short time, to ensure that no lingering effects remained upon Devin from his dealings with Malfeshnekor.
            "A prison like that, I warrant has only one key." Devin said.
            "What?" Devin asked, at Amrynn's scrutiny. He held out his hands and regarding them this way and that. Not seeing anything to warrant her concern, he brushed a hand across his hair. "My hair singed off?" Unless he'd found a suitable container in the study, Devin settled for wrapping the bladed key within a thick blanket he was willing to sacrifice, and tucked it within his pack to keep his hands free.
            Bergi cast a sour, sidelong glance at Amrynn. “Wonderful. Let’s go,” she said, waving a small hand toward the pillar. “The further the better.”
            Gravely wounded though Rhaina was, the party ventured around the corner of the hall to the doors at their end, which depicted in bas-relief two skeletons reaching out to clutch a skull between them. Perhaps not the good omen they were seeking?
            Durriken looked at Rhaina's wounds and scowled, "We need to tend to this in case we run into any other 'friendly' creatures down here. Calling on Pharasma's healing power, Durriken touched Rhaina's wounds and a warm glow spread from his fingertips to her wounded area, closing them up as best he could
            Devin set to work checking the doors for traps, prepared to try to open the doors if he found none.
            Finding nothing suspicious, he pulled open the doors, revealing a room with a domed ceiling, supported by four pillars. Several dark alcoves along the walls held standing sarcophagi, and the walls were carved in bas-relief with images of a stern man wielding a glaive and holding a book, just like the statue at the far end of the room depicted the same man. It looked a lot like the phantom they had seen in the hidden room.
            Though the temperature in this subterranean complex had remained comfortable, and the air fresh, those looking into the dark chamber felt a chill nonetheless.
            Devin's skin prickled beneath his armor and he failed to suppress a shiver as something other than the stone-tinged ocean air brushed through him. "You feel that?" Devin asked Amrynn, Bergi, Rhaina, Durriken, and I'Daiin. Somewhere in the past chambers, Devin had learned renewed senses of both caution and trusting his instincts about danger.
            From the threshold, to supplement Bergi's illuminating dagger, with short words of magic and a gesture, Devin brought forth four additional balls of torchlight. The balls orbited each other in semi-random paths, but the net effect was to cast a significantly greater sphere of light in their combination. This, he directed to the first alcove he could see, to his right, to push away some more of the darkness, there. He drew his shortsword without alarm.
            The Shoanti seemed to have calmed down after raising his hackles at the imprisoned Malfeshnekor. His longsword, never resting for long in its scabbard, remained in his hands. He kept his eyes on the statue, looking like a figure of bronze himself, waiting for Devin to go through his intricate steps.
            “Guh, I hate rooms without kenning,” Bergi said. She whirled and pointed in frustration with her hands in several directions. “Here’s a kitchen. This is a privy. There's a dance hall. Oh look, a tannery. But this,” she thumbed at the chamber ahead. “Is just a chilly doom tomb.”
            “Welcome,” she groused.
            “It was a different age, Bergi,” Amrynn said with a half-smile. “Magic, religion, even thought was different than we understand it now. So much has changed through the centuries. It is one of the reasons we explore it, to uncover our historical ancestry.”
            “Small comfort,” the tiny halfling said. “And I should know.” She could only stay silent for a heartbeat before she spoke again. “How is anyone supposed to sleep above knowing that thing is spinning its wheels down here? We can’t use this fort as is.”
            “My concern is the chill in the air,” Amrynn countered. “Such energies do not manifest without a source,” she called after Devin.
            Under Devin's colored lights, the sarcophagi he examined were beautifully, if unnervingly, carved with uniform faces of people in calm reflexion, three women and three men, dressed in regalia he didn't recognize. It would probably have been a treasure to some museum or collector of Thassilonian artifacts, but it looked to be quite heavy, being made of stone.
            Making his way across the floor in fits and starts as he paused to check for any traps that might be hidden in the floor along the way, he made it to the statue unscathed. Looking more closely at it, it was almost certainly the man they had seen in the hidden room, repeating himself over and over. Decked in carved jewelry, his commanding gaze seemed to follow Devin, the flickering lights and shadows enhancing the illusion.
            Bergi and Amrynn made to step forward at the same moment, but Bergi’s glance at Amrynn’s big feet and sweeping clothing kept the elf from advancing. The wry smile that cracked on one corner of Amrynn’s mouth didn’t completely overshadow the concern she cast forward into the chamber after Devin.
            Bergi then crept forward silently, peeking her head around the corner and scanning the nearby nooks and crannies for anything Devin might have overlooked.
            "No exits that I can see; not yet, anyway," Devin spoke back to the party, his voice conversational; he'd seen no threats, yet, either, though he kept his shortsword out. He leaned back and forth experimentally in front of the statue, minding the eyes, assessing if it was just a bit of artistry and skill in the rendering, or intuiting if it might be some other effect.
            "It's a statue of Karzoug, I think. Can't imagine there would've been enough left of anyone introduced to the barghest to ceremoniously entomb here. Maybe this room holds the remains of some of his loyal followers. Given 'greed,' have to imagine they might each be buried with valuables," Devin started a counterclockwise circuit around the statue, considering its base and its features. They'd found hidden coin slots on the pillar; maybe there was something else like that, here, too.
            Slowly, checking for anything unusual as he went, Devin circled the statue. Carefully though he looked, Devin didn't see any coin slots or similar contraptions reveal themselves on it.
            "We still have one door up on the next level that we haven't explored, I believe. We should ferret our any other problems before we think of doing with the baraghest, if that is something we want to do. Perhaps we can inquire more about the Skinsaw cult mentioned in the notes as well," Durriken said looking about the room. "Maybe more research will be able to put these findings in better context."
            Even as Durriken spoke, each and every one of them realized that the shadows from Devin's lights were slowly growing unnaturally longer. Amrynn could have sworn that she heard faint screaming in some unknown language, though she realized that she wasn't hearing it with her ears.
            Amrynn was the first to give voice to the danger, but it was Bergi that brought it to life. “Devin…” Amrynn started to say.
            "There's your chill," Devin acknowledged with a determined grin. Rather than be surrounded by the elongating shadows, Devin retreated to the north of the room, skipping clear of any shadows extending past their norm as he could, and taking a slash with his sword at any shadow that elected to manifest as a barrier.
            Bergi’s eyes were giant saucers as snippets returned and her mind pieced together the horrific puzzle.
            …they are dead and gone…holds the remains…a different age…a chilly doom tomb…
            Bergi’s mind raced, and her stomach churned at her premonition. Nothing lived here. Correction. There was nothing living here. Not for a long time. That only left the unliving, and if they were formed of shadow…
            “Devin,” Bergi’s hoarse whisper echoed Amrynn’s word before her voice skyrocketed into a shriek. “Get out of there! RUN!!”
            "Run--why?" I'Daiin's eyes then beheld the encroaching and unnaturally lengthening shadows. "Dung and ashes!" The Shoanti moved with uncharacteristic lack of bravado into the hallway. "My sword can't cut those things!"
            He stood next to Devin, muttering to himself. "Well, Hells to hammers, I may as well go join the old women around the fire. I haven't a damned thing to cut them with."
            Bergi didn’t wait for a response. She hurled her tiny dagger into the room at the nearest coalescing form, knowing full well the blade would find her further down the hall. And then Bergi ran.
            “Undead!” she huffed as she pelted by, hoping against hope, praying to Desna, that it wasn’t what she thought it was. For if it was, the tiny halfling was at terrible risk, and her feet carried her away with understandable gusto.
            Amrynn only hesitated a moment at Bergi’s terror, then she turned her determined visage back toward the chamber and raised one of Lyrie’s wands. She summoned the wand’s magic and sent bolts of energy into two of the shadowy manifestations closest to Devin. Then she withdrew a short distance, allowing others more suited to the front lines to step forward if they wished.
            Bergi's alarm prompted Devin to move out into the hallway, moving along with the general retreat, though he faced the tomb to the south, had his sword out, and held the line, readying to strike at any shadow that elected to reach for them.
            If anything, Devin was more shaken by Bergi's beat-feat retreat than from the shadows manifesting within the tomb; he steeled himself to help confront the threat.
            No targets manifested themselves to blade or wand as Devin, Amrynn, I'Daiin and Bergi retreated. In fact, though the darkness swelled for a moment as they left, the shadows then retreated back to their proper places and proportions.
            Slowly, the screaming at the edge of Amrynn's perception faded away, as though it had never been, leaving only that chill behind.

24


            "They're gone...," Devin called after Bergi, then added with a grin, "or they're flanking us." He swallowed the grin, "Bergi, you can come on back. What'd I miss? Yes, they're probably undead."
            Bergi’s face slowly emerged from around the corner but stopped at about the halfway mark. Her eyes were still wicked wide, shining in the dim light as she gazed at the crypt.
            “Shades,” she said. “Those were shadows if I ever saw them.” She swallowed. “Not that I have, but the stories were pinning with truth. Suck the life right out of you, they will. Just with a touch, and my kind especially!”
            “And the screaming… there was so much pain,” Amrynn said, her own eyes tracking in the darkness ahead, wand at the ready.
            Bergi’s head snapped toward Amrynn and her features paled further. “Not helping,” the halfling grimaced.
            “To hear my uncle tell it,” the wee bard began, “he saw firsthand a single one of those dark demons destroy an entire village…in a single night. Shaper’s Bend this was, on one of his caravan routes to the north. A halfling haven of carpenters and coopers, along a milling stretch of a gentle river bend. Well over a hundred halflings living sure and strong.”
            Bergi’s head bobbed sideways a bit, shifting her vision as if she saw something in the shadows beyond. Then she shook her pale face and continued.
            “It’s called Shadow’s End now,” she said. “No one knew where the first one came from, but only a few got out alive to tell the tale, my uncle being one of them. The rest…the rest are still there, and always will be, to here tell. And no one goes within a league of that cursed wood!”
            Bergi was shaking her head. “Aren’t many things at all that I’ll hightail from,” she said. “But those buggers are one. Tell ya true, I’m about ready to get the hell out of this rotten place.”
            "Indeed they are undead. Abominations," Durriken said as he stood in the doorway, looking for signs of the foul creatures returning. "Souls of those who were killed by shadows. Now they have become that which killed them. If we are going to engage them we must be cautious. Their touch drains one's strength and if you are killed by a shadow, a shadow you will become."
            Durriken reached into his tunic and pulled out his holy symbol, "I can attempt to turn them using divine energy granted by the Lady. Or we can move on."
            "If we can separate them, maybe we can take them out one at a time. If you turn them, and we attack one, will they all attack again?" Devin said.
            Devin felt the vise-like grip of Amrynn and Bergi’s attentions turning toward him at the same time.
            “You’re serious?” Amrynn said.
            “You can’t be serious?” Bergi said at the exact same moment.
            “They require only a touch,” Amrynn warned.
            “In-cor-por-eee-alll,” Bergi whined.
            “No armor or weapon will work. Only magic,” Amrynn said.
            “And a dungheap of luck,” Bergi countered.
            “And should one of us fall,” Amrynn’s voice faded off.
            “For-e-ver,” Bergi hissed.
            The two women looked about at the rest of the party for aid and only saw two Shoanti and a priest well suited to the engagement.
            Devin frowned, considering even as he weighed his own motivations.
            "I believe that as long as I do not attack them, you could still engage them. However, I have never tested this power in the field like this before so I cannot be certain. They are insubstantial creatures so I know that divine power can hurt them. I am not sure what else will do the same. If you have any magic power, I would suggest you use it just in case." Durriken peered into the room again, trying to find a hint of the creatures before turning back to the group, "I can try to damage them or turn them and you can attempt to damage them. Whatever you think is best."
            The crypt, while creepy as any mausoleum, showed no sign of the strange, unnatural shadows.
            The doughty barbarian shivered at Bergi's lurid tale of Shadow's End. "It's no use fighting against spirits you cannot even touch," I'Daiin growled. "Perhaps we can find something in this place that can kill them. That and that goblin-faced dog." He pondered the place a moment. "Or..." I'Daiin looked back at the door near Bergi. "...lure them. Into there. I am the fastest runner. I could lure them out, and we deal with them one by one at that choke point."
            "You could use my shortsword," Devin suggested to I'Daiin. "That'd give you a means. And while I can do it for only a limited period, if I'm holding a weapon, I'm confident I could make it able to hit those things. And I have magic."
            "If we lured them out," Devin nodded to I'Daiin, "and then you tried to destroy as many as you could," Devin continued, following up on Durriken's musings, "and maybe turn the rest; keep them at bay; that's be the five of us against one or two of them. Shortsword, dagger, magic missiles; we lay into it."
            Devin sighed and explained his underlying malease, "I don't like leaving them here, not knowing that they're free to leave. From what you've said, /one/ of them could wipe out the town. But I'm not up to taking an unwarranted risk, not with the 'forever' thing. We could be horrendously underestimating these things... or we could be significantly over-estimating them."
            “I’m not saying dealing with them is out of the question entirely,” Bergi continued her rationalization. “Just that such an undertaking should be planned. Prepared for. Know your enemy. Bring the right business. Like holy water!”
            Bergi glanced back down toward the dark crypt.
            “Lots of holy water,” she amended. “And it seems like they’re not going anywhere. I mean, they’ve probably been here, well, forever. I don’t think we need to rush it.”
            “And I didn’t see any other way out of that chamber either,” she asked. “Did you?”
            "No," Devin replied slowly, though it was unclear which of the points he was first answering. "No other exits that I saw, but I wasn't able to investigate the walls."
            He sighed, then nodded, "Okay. They'll keep for now; we prepare, and come back and purge them once we're equipped for it." The stack of challenges was too much for the party to take on right now; it was beyond a risk, he had to admit it was near-suicidal. Four or five shadows converging upon them, with only two or three means to pick them off, and a hope they could repel the majority... the result might well be six shadows or more.
            Devin stepped to the west wall of the hall and idly ran a hand along it, pacing northward.
            "The carved face on the west side of the bluff... the mouth is hollow. The current was crashing in and out of it. There may be another chamber we haven't found yet, beyond that crypt. It took the shadows a few moments to manifest. I could search, in spurts. You could mind my back, warn me when the shadows grow too interested."
            “Wait, you just said we’d leave them and return later, and then that you want to try and--” Bergi started to object.
            "Another chamber or perhaps a hidden stairway behind a wall somewhere? I am not the best at searching but if there's nothing in the room with the shadows then we will need to start checking around in the rooms we have already been in. I don't think the previous owners rappelled down to the cave mouth." Durriken said. "I say we finish up the recon of the unopened rooms first then look for a way to that cave that doesn't involve rappelling down the side of the cliff."
            “Ooooooooo,” Bergi heard the word rappel and her mind wandered immediately to delicious visions of wondrous stories to be told. “Climbing down the face of the fort into an open mouth would be epic!”
            “And a fool’s errand,” Amrynn countered with a furrowed brow. “Focus,” she added, holding up slender fingers to accentuate her point.
            “What was our objective in returning here?” she asked. “The threat of Thistletop has been neutralized. We need work on clearing its taint, yes, but what is our ultimate goal? Let us not lose sight of the larger tapestry.”
            Devin sighed with a contemplative frown, and shook the thought away with a quick tick of his head. "Hate leaving things 'half done', and spoils... unclaimed," Devin admitted, gesturing to the crypt to the south. "But you're right. The shadows will stay, as will the demon; just don't know when we'll ever get back here to see things through."
            "We check the rooms above; we've been through everything down here; we get the horse off the island; we ensure the goblins get off the island; we get back to town and update them. We mark these crypts as still-dangerous, somehow. Agreed."

25


            When they returned from the lower reaches of Thistletop, they found Orik where they had left him, the everburning torch lying beside him as he sat on the crates they had piled up to "lock in" the goblins. Resting his back against the door, he waved laconically. "No trouble?"
            It was Bergi's place to respond to her retainer; Devin wasn't standoffish, but didn't presume to speak first to Orik's inquiry.
            A partial smile formed on Bergi’s face as she saw Orik still here. She hadn’t been sure he would be. Her scoff was loud and phlegmy though, beyond what her size would suggest possible.
            “Trouble the likes of which you’d not believe,” she said. “Nasties beyond our means at present but locked away all the same. We’re earmarking them for later stabby time.” She ratcheted the tiny glowing dagger up and down for emphasis. “For now, we’re moving on.”

26


            Searching the dungeon level of the island, they discovered that beyond a short hallway lay the goblins' prison. The left wall was a bank of six cells with iron doors; the rest of the room was obviously a torture chamber, all too familiar to Devin. A rack sat against the far wall, an iron maiden stood to the right, and a fire pit that had once cast the room in a lurid red glow was now extinguished beneath a spiky cage dangling from a chain in the ceiling. Of Brunkel, the goblin who had kept the prison, there was no sign.
            Probing deeper, they found a dirty room with a dusty nest of rags, dog hides, and straw in one corner. To the right, a long workbench running along the wall was cluttered with pliers, hooks, tongs, saws, and knives.
            And under it, Devin spotted some familiar possessions.
            Devin's survey alighted upon the workbench and drew his eyes downward. Disbelief and cautious urgency warred as he approached and knelt in front of the workbench, pulling a haphazard array of materials from beneath it, most now soiled and -- to his disappointment -- some damaged. Deft hands quickly went through what was there, searching. An undistinguished set of leather armor. A belt and some pouches; a couple of daggers, still serviceable. He paused briefly as he discovered an intact, tied leather roll of tools, and again at finding a hand crossbow still in its thigh sling, and a capped tube of bolts for it, but these were not what he wanted to find. He found the backpack; untied and too light, and upended it, causing its modest contents to spill out; travel gear, practical items. But they weren't here. Devin leaned low under the workbench, wondering if what he sought waited in the dark recesses; no. He stood slowly and looked around the room anew.
            His features hardened as he saw the cold fire pit, and he stalked over to it, crouched beside it, probed its edges carefully with the nearby poker. Devin's held breath released in a truncated moment of sadness when the charred remains of a book's torn leather spine and partial back panel shifted in the ashes. Heedless of the soot, he reached in and retrieved it, and cleared the remains of the partial spine as best he could. Marcelle's Anthology; he didn't need to be able to read the absent words to know what the title had been. With absent eyes he looked about the pit again, and noted the charred remnant of what had been its companion, Turnic's Music of the Spheres. In his mind, he considered salvaging what he could; they might be restored with magic. But they'd be fresh; pristine; untouched and unhandled and never before read, much less gifted; and thus not instilled of the same value. Someday, perhaps, he'd find new editions of them with their own histories to them, but not these. He discarded the destroyed books' covers upon the stone, stood, and slowly rubbed his fingertips clear of the black on his armor's legs. The folded note that had been tucked in the pages would've had no chance in the flames.
            Amrynn had followed Devin toward the pit. Her heart walked with his, understanding that for which he searched. Each soul waged a war within of savagery versus civilization, and it was never easy to witness such a senseless loss of one to the other.
            “There are other texts,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Better that you survived, rather than they.”
            "They were gifts," Devin explained, speaking towards the ashes. He turned and smiled tightly to Amrynn, "Samuel Lyss." He shook his head and drew a deep breath, collecting himself and moving on. "We've got new stories ahead, now."
            “We do,” Amrynn smiled at the mention of the man’s name. “And some wonderful one’s behind us already.”
            She walked with him for a few steps, arm draped across his back, before allowing him to return to the needs of the present. They could talk more of the past when they were safe once more.
            Devin's near hand found his way to her hip and waist, acknowledging and appreciating Amrynn's support and affection. The loss of the books she'd first been reading and the note she'd penned stung, but in truth he'd carried them as fond reminders of their time together. That was all well before he could've imagined their paths would cross again, here, now; in that light, the loss of the tokens would not haunt him.
            "This was my gear; nothing sentimental, there; some things practical." Devin efficiently checked the hand crossbow, and was modestly pleased to find it intact and serviceable, and the bolt case still full. He also grabbed the tool roll for its practical uses; spares wouldn't hurt. The rest he was satisfied to leave behind.
            Having completed a search of the fort Durriken said, " Now how do we get the goblins and horse off the island? Perhaps a rope and harness to lower the horse to a boat below? We will need one a decent size to remain stable. As for the goblins I have no idea."
            "Leave the goblins to their own fates," Devin decreed, colder for the recent wrong he'd discovered. "Between the lot of us, we can anchor a couple of lines to the slope and lower the horse to the calmest water we can find on the perimeter; we'll have to swim it out of here; we can't get a large enough ship close enough to the rocks." He paused to see if anyone had a stronger suggestion, and if not, he concluded, "Let's get to it and get out of here."
            “We can’t leave the goblins here,” Bergi said. “We just can’t. They won’t leave otherwise. Hells, they’ll dub themselves queens and set to raising another brood before sundown. Stubborn as mud and dumb as a bag of hammers.”
            “And it is unlikely the horse will survive a swim in its condition,” Amrynn added.
            “Right,” Bergi pointed at her for emphasis. “He came over on the bridge, he probably needs to go back that way. Then we can escort the goblins off too. Give them as fair a chance as they can get anyway.”
            “Both options have their challenges,” Amrynn said. “But I favor rebuilding the bridge as well.”
            Devin sighed and observed in defeated wryness, "It's like you both conspire to set your ways before casting your voices, two votes already for the most difficult course."
            "Building a three-rope bridge to support a person, or a goblin; that's a day's effort. Building a planked bridge to support a horse; that's a week. If we get the goblins off, and leave the horse here until we can bring the crew from town to make shorter work of the bridge, will that suffice?"
            "We tie three lines to the boat; two of us take the boat to the briars at the shore. We climb the wall, each taking one of the lines with us; you pull the boat back to you with the remaining line. With two lines secured and strung across the gap, I can walk it and string a third. We get those three anchored on each side, knot Vs, and string the Vs out along the lines' span. Any of us could walk that; the goblins definitely will be able to. We get back to town, we get the crew and supplies, we repair the bridge we sundered, we get the horse off and away. All fair?"
            "Three," Orik said. When the others looked at him, he shrugged. "I should go across too. There are goblins in the thistles again. I'll get rid of them while you rig the rope bridge."
            Devin paused, then nodded, "Three."
            “Agreed,” Amrynn replied. “But we do not conspire, and if we were taking the ‘most difficult course’, we would still be below engaged with the shadow kind no doubt.” Devin smiled, yielding the point.
            “Ha, true enough!” Bergi said. “Women folk just think differently then men folk, Devin. Don’t get too lashed up about it. Plus look at it this way, that horse deserves a nice bridge, surviving all that he did.”
            "It's a horse," Devin stated plainly. They were about to undertake a large amount of effort and risk the security of Thistletop to rescue the horse. Well, technically, they were undertaking the effort to help secure Thistletop long-term and keep it in someone's hands other than the goblins; the horse just accelerated the access plans to do so.
            "I'Daiin, you with us?" Devin said.
            “I’ll be coming along too!” Bergi interjected. “Need to be that close to stop any falls that may happen.” She wiggled her fingers for magical emphasis.
            “The rest of us can offer ranged support as needed,” Amrynn said. “Just direct us when the time comes to retrieve the boat.”
            "Fair plan; we're off to it, then." Devin said.

27


            Leaving Durriken, Rhaina and Amrynn on Thistletop, Devin, Bergi, I'Daiin and Orik took their now-battered boat around the island, heading for the cliffs while their friends looked on from above. Despite the occasional arrow from the thistle thicket, which fell far short of their boat, all was going well until they spotted something big, circling them beneath the choppy waves.
            “I am really starting to hate this…” Bergi’s colorful expletives were drowned out by a crashing wave. “…island. Faster. Faster, please. Row FASTER.”
            Her eyes widened with a combination of distaste and anger as she realized what was going to happen. She did what she could to brace for an impact as she tried to warn the others. Gesturing with one hand, she sent some piercing notes across the span between the boaters and the islanders.
            “Folks! We have company in the water down here!” Bergi’s words were meant to be conveyed as a whisper, but they rushed out with such force that she was sure they’d come out a hiss. “All hands on deck!”
            Getting away from the submerged creature seemed the only viable course; they certainly couldn't fight it from inside the boat, and meeting it on its own 'ground,' was /not/ a pleasant option to consider. Devin put his back into his share of the rowing to get the boat to surge across the channel as quickly as possible and beach the boat on the mainland side, where they could flip it and use it for cover versus goblin arrows from above.
            "Chuck goblins from Thistletop; draw it away and satiate it," he mused aloud, darkly, half-suggesting Bergi share that back with the party at the islet's peak.
            The thing streaked through the water, diving down into the depths where it couldn't be seen... but a moment later it breached, surging out of the water in a leap that took it clear over the boat in a water-sparkling arc, spinning around its own sleek torso. It looked vaguely like an ugly seal, but with splotches like shadows running along its body.
            At the apex of its arc, the monster roared.
            Its muzzle split into the gaping maw of a shark. The noise was incredible, and with it, an atavistic fear of being eaten spiked through the hearts of all who heard it. Yet, theirs were nerves of steel, and they didn't give in to panic... at least, all but one.
            All thought of the threat to her friends was overshadowed in Amrynn's mind with the need to flee, to hide, to survive.
            Below, the monster dropped beneath the waves once more.
            Amrynn’s quarterstaff clattered to the ground as air seeped out of her. “That’s a bunyip,” she whispered. “Tell them to flee!!”
            And the graceful elven woman bounded away in gaping strides, darting back into the blood soaked maw of Thistletop.
            “Bunyiiiip!!! That’s a bunyip!” Bergi screeched over the waves. “Get to shore now!”
            She braced herself as quickly as possible and began singing notes to aid one of her comrades as best she was able. No one wanted to die bleeding beneath the waves. Reaching out a hand, she imbued I’Daiin with all the power she could manage.

28


            Between I'Daiin and Orik, the party fended off the bunyip's assault until they reached the shore, and it was forced to give up its pursuit. There, Orik climbed up the sea cliff where the goblins were shooting at them from, while the party laid suppressing fire down from behind the overturned boat. Once Orik entered the thistle maze, the rain of arrows ceased, and the others were free to make the climb and engineer the rope bridge they had envisioned.
            The goblin women scampered over the bridge with surprising agility, considering all the coins they were carrying, and vanished into the maze, and the forest beyond it. With them, they took the goblin babes, Bergi having made it understood that if they didn't, the party would hunt them down and take their treasure back. Or maybe it had been the face I'Daiin made at them when Bergi told them about hunting them down. In any case, they cleared out quickly.
            Orik, however, did not reappear. He had left a trail of dead goblins through the maze, but after that, it seemed he felt his obligation to the party was done. His tracks disappeared into the forest.
            A foray back to the town brought a few brave carpenters and two wagons of timber into the tangled forest, and with some difficulty thanks to the thorny maze, a rope bridge similar to the one they had destroyed (but of much better craftsmanship) was constructed. Then another problem reared its head: how had the goblins gotten Raz through the maze and over the bridge?! It was solved by the primary tool of most adventuring parties: force. They hacked a path through the thistle tangle, and Bergi and I'Daiin led the horse with its eyes covered over the terrible drop below the swaying bridge.
            They returned to Sandpoint with Raz, the sea chest, and the knowledge that they had saved the townsfolk from a terrible fate... at least, for now.
            Down in the depths of Thistletop, still Malfeshnekor waited.

29


            A party was thrown for the group when they returned to Sandpoint. While Ameiko had gone to Magnimar with Tsuto, there was nevertheless a plethora of delicious food, fine drink, and congratulatory townsfolk in a steady stream. It was clear that Mayor Deverin hadn't told them the full extent of the threat toward Sandpoint, or the source of that threat, but what was rumored had been enough to prompt the celebration - that, and Ameiko's orders for their return. To Rhaina, she had left note that she would return as soon as she could.
            Durriken enjoyed the party and the downtime that came with it. Satisfaction from a job well done. Still, he spent time with those he had spoken with before about the barghest hoping that by providing a name, he could get more information on the creature that could help them determine how to best deal with it. Durriken didn't like leaving the creature there as a loose end but as long as those entering the keep knew not to mess around with that pillar, it should fine for the time being.
            Parties; large gatherings, social situations; weren't really Devin's thing, much less being the center of attention. Not that they weren't already, in Sandpoint, to some extent, but the just being /known/ so much attracted its own degree of scrutiny and future problems. He downplayed his part and enjoyed the festival for what it was -- Sandpoint's celebration of a victory and re-earned days ahead for them all. He was grateful to have his friends nearby throughout the evening, and Devin was never far from Amrynn's side for any significant length of time. True, he took heart in her being a bit of a social shield, but it was a rare day of late when he didn't awake and still wonder at his fortune in rejoining paths.
            When left to his own devices in the ebb and flow of the party, Devin made due by gathering some of the townsfolk's children in small groups and entertaining with quick sleights of hand and misdirection; objects traveling unseen from one place to another, one child's favored brooch suddenly appearing in the pocket of another, trinkets and small toys appearing with snaps of his deft fingers and calls. The acts and the children's reactions became the spectacle, versus any need for Devin to ride social tides of conversation.
            More than once throughout the evening, Devin affirmed unspoken the comradery they all shared at this point -- a nod and brief smile across the crowd with other members of the party, a hand upon a shoulder in passing, an attentiveness to the words they shared with those of the town who had wished to hear more. A job well done, all said, but all knew there was much more to be done, ahead. None of them were exactly the same people they'd been just a week or two ago.
            Rhaina, still shaken by her near-deadly encounter with Malfeshnekor, retired to rest, while Bergi, now a Hero of Sandpoint in her own right, returned to the quiet life of the townsfolk, the goblin threat dealt with.

30


            Amrynn sighed across Devin’s chest. The reprieve after Thistletop’s tortures had been most welcome, but this exhale was not one of contentment, more one of worry. Devin did not speak, but his fingers passing through her long tresses was language enough. His concern for her well-being, for her balanced state of mind, was omnipresent, a comforting blanket that warmed her much more thoroughly than the thin layers of cloth covering them both.
            “Bergi’s absence is palpable,” she said. The obviousness of the declaration was clarified just as quickly when she added, “I’m not sure I can fill such a void.”
            "Happiness is the journey, not a destination, I think she'd say," Devin offered. "There won't be a day when we wouldn't all call each other friends, even if paths and pursuits diverge for a time." Spoken by someone who lived his life and his travels by nearly only what he could carry, always ready to move, Bergi's transition back to Sandpoint's daily activities for now didn't seem so permanent to Devin, nor any type of loss -- Bergi was still /here/. "We're going to hear good things of her across the miles, even if we travel; that spark of hers is bright." He nuzzled and softly kissed her hair. "And Fortune has a way of reuniting paths."
            Amrynn drew and released another deep breath. “I’m glad your estimations are so high,” she said. “Hopefully they will subsume any doubts that may arise. And speaking of which…”
            She pushed herself up to a sitting position and eluded his efforts to restrain her. A deft rise and twist dragged most of the covers clear of the bed, threatening to leave him exposed to the chill morning air. He snatched the last of the trailing covers, and they paused in a mutual tug of war standoff.
            “Fine,” Amrynn said, releasing the covers with a high air and turning to retrieve her clothing. Her stark form was lean and powerful as she dressed. Grasping Devin’s tunic nearby and hurling at him playfully, she said, “Do try to join us by lunch, if you would.”
            "Bah," Devin retorted with a smirk, catching his wayward tunic with nary a thought as, the game concluded, he moved to stand and reluctantly complete the bed's vacation. The light cover rested crumpled and discarded where they'd just been. "I've little interest in the bed when you're not in it, and your set's clear enough; about the day we are, then."
            Of all the things they'd seen within Thistletop, and overcome, Devin had felt distinctly vulnerable in the presence of the shadows, and with Malfeshnekor. Much as he knew Durriken was disquieted and making discrete inquiries, Devin, too, had been spending long hours with a handful of books he'd been able to locate within Sandpoint's sparse literary gamut. While he didn't harbor whims of charging back into Thistletop's depths to confront the nasty things that still dwelled there, he knew he may not be able to pick when such a battle would next confront them all. Better to spend some time understanding the known strengths and weaknesses of such things as he could gather, that he could take steps to prepare for tomorrow's fights.

The Second Cycle