Chapters

The Desiccated Eye: “Do you wish to accept his blessing?”
Zombie Apocalypse: “Aren’t burbling masses our mandate?”
Cultish Behaviour: “You are under the custody of the Watch!”

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The Desiccated Eye

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Brother Jamison Cooper scratched his head. Why did the tiny gnome insist on leading the way? There were two perfectly good, perfectly tall, greenskin orcs, and a lithe githyanki shrouded in black. Not to mention the hobgoblin with a shock of red hair and matching eyes. And yet the gnome, two feet tall if he was that, pushed ahead as if he weren’t surrounded by mountains of deadly flesh.

It had been two days and Brother Cooper—‘Coop’ to his friends—was still learning the way of this troupe of non-believers. Or so he presumed they were. He had his suspicions about the red hobgoblin, spying a holy symbol dangling from his solid neck, but even so it was clear he was no Lathander follower—his light was not clear. Unlike his own: a beacon in the night beckoning the unfortunate to his shelter, Cooper reflected with satisfaction.

Flukespan Timbers, the aforementioned gnome, led the company down another of Neverwinter’s decrepit laneways. The city was certainly impressive in parts (though it had nothing on Waterdeep’s splendour, naturally) but once you moved away from the main thoroughfares the true nature of the town was revealed. Beggars and brigands, men and ladies of the night, all ripe for the lessons of Lathander.

Alas for now that would have to wait. His job in the Neverwinter hired militia was simple: patrol the streets, keep the peace, knock heads if needed. He thanked Lathander again for the opportunity and followed Flukespan into the darkness.

---

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If there was one thing Flukespan loved it was a back-alley. His keen eyes picked out the escape routes and second-story opportunities, nodding to his fellows from the roguish side of life who skulked in the shadows. He liked his new friends, particularly ‘Coop’ who was good at keeping the fisticuffs to a minimum, which suited Flukespan just fine. Being two-and-a-half feet tall had it’s advantages in his line of work, but fighting was not one of them.

He’d enjoyed joining his new githyanki partner in fast-talking their way out of trouble. Despite his sharp-toothed appearance, Idris had a surprisingly convincing way of sweet-talking troublemakers into acquiescence. Flukespan too prided himself in his friendly demeanour—just the thing to distract a patron whilst their pockets were being emptied.

It had been a pleasant surprise to find a fellow dragon-chess enthusiast in Brother Cooper, though it had to be said he was a very poor player. Very poor—some of the ‘rules’ his father had taught him stretched credulity. But if there was one thing Flukespan loved it was teaching a rookie, and he let the poor fellow win nine times out of ten.

He glanced back at the hulking orc who followed his every step. The fellow, who went simply by Jondo, had two rapier-like swords strapped to his back and stepped with a lightness that belied his large shape. Handy to have someone like that at your back.

---

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Jondo shadowed Flukespan, enjoying looming over the tiny fellow. He hadn’t had to draw either of his blades in the couple of days on duty: his fists, smile, and the presence of two other over-sized companions more than enough to quell troublemakers.

The hobgoblin—Uthar—was particularly effective, a frown in the general direction of a miscreant being enough to stop most in their tracks. And when it wasn’t, Jondo was more than happy to step in with his muscle.

He had been surprised to find another orc in the party, Eli Hedgeberry, and even more surprised to find the young man a little unprepared for patrolling the streets of Neverwinter. Jondo smirked as he held up a hand in warning and, as if to confirm his expectations, Eli nearly ran into it.

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Eli caught himself just in time, not yet used to the various hand-signals and eye raises from his more experienced brethren. Jondo was very dextrous for a big orc and Eli hadn’t quite adjusted himself to adapt to that speed.

For the most part Eli felt comfortable with his fresh friends: Jondo a master of twin blades, Brother Cooper a very confident and upright fellow, and the big hobgoblin Uthar could obviously hold his own. He wasn’t so sure about the other two—one very small, one rather odd looking.

He glanced at Brother Cooper who was watching the street ahead carefully, so Eli followed suit. He couldn’t see anything of note—there was some nice timber work on one of the buildings, and that sign could do with some straightening. But no foes?

He closed his eyes and reminded himself again of why he was here, and when he opened them the strange man who called himself Idris was smiling at him warmly with encouragement. Eli had been surprised when Idris broke up one drunken argument by waving his long fingers to send the drunkard flying out of the bar into the street beyond. He resolved to find how he did that, smiling and nodding to the strange but friendly fellow.

---

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The handsome young orc was more like a farmer than a soldier, Idris reflected. He obviously meant well, and with a bit of mentoring could mature into quite the fighter. Idris resolved to also teach him cards, though he did worry that his obvious innocence would make him an easy mark.

Whilst Idris wasn’t from here (something which he could see made his companions slightly uncomfortable, something he was determined to rectify), he was from here. Just like he knew the gaming tables of Neverwinter, he knew these streets: they were his home. Keeping order was satisfying for him, and a good way to stretch his newfound powers—he particularly enjoyed Eli’s boggle-eyed expressions when he employed some of his telekinetic skills.

He walked behind Uthar—small for a hobgoblin—trailing him into the laneway. He’d admired Uthar’s control in the couple of fights the small company had got involved with—cold and calculated, no anger in his actions. Idris did however suspect that if there was a line to be stepped over, Uthar would not be shy to do so.

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Uthar gripped the pommel of his weapon and settled the shield that hung on his back. It was an odd company he had landed in, and he kept his faith to himself. Brother Cooper’s on the other hand shone like a suit of armour, and he carried himself as if he were untouchable. Too much of a showboat. Uthar knew better, never letting down his guard, ready to honour his god through his tenets: justice, virtue, order.

He found himself most often turning to mercy for the wayward souls the patrol had encountered, and trusted his fellows would follow his example. Flukespan was a bit of a worry, and Idris looked rather intimidating, but it took all sorts—and Uthar could hardly claim to be innocent in the intimidating looks department.

---

“You’ve probably guessed by now that I am of the Cooper family,” Brother Jamison smiled warmly as his company patrolled the streets. “The Waterdeep Cooper’s. I’m doing my time here as I should, helping out, as we do, and getting to know all you good…people,” he said side-eyeing the orcs. And the hobgoblin. And the githyanki and gnome come to think of it. “I do my six month service and then I return to my family and church. And probably never come back here—it does seem a bit too raucous for me.”

“That is a good story!” Eli enthused.

“Story? It’s not a story—I don’t know what you mean…that’s who I am? I was blessed from a very early age.”

Jondo laughed to himself. During the few bar brawls the company had been forced to break up, he’d learned to stand well clear of the two bumpkins. Despite being built like a brick outhouse, Eli moved fast, but he had a lot to learn about working in tandem with others (so much so that he hadn’t raised a fist in anger yet), and Coop seemed more liable to lecture someone into submission than hit them. Though it had to be admitted that there was not a scratch on the priest even when he was forced to act—just one of those lucky guys.

“What monastery are you from?” Eli continued.

“I am a cleric of Lathander. My whole family, for generations, have been priests of Lathander. We have done very well, I think because of our gods' favour.”

“And who is…Cooper?”

The poor Orc was just an innocent, it seemed. “I am Brother Jamison Cooper of the Waterdeep Cooper’s,” he explained again patiently, “I know people know that name.”

Eli looked blank but enthusiastic. “I too am only here for a short while. And I will also return to my people after experiencing—”

“After you’ve done good here!” Brother Jamison interrupted.

“Well…yes?” Eli shrugged. He was about to ask more when an anguished scream erupted from a nearby alley. “A person in need!”

Brother Cooper didn’t hesitate, running to the lane. “Quickly! Let’s go!” He cast a light spell as he ran, illuminating the dark scene. “It’s the militia here! Are you okay?”

A human woman clad in light leather armour was clutching the dead body of a human man in a tattered grey robe. “Help! They’ve killed him!” she cried.

Eli looked around frantically for the ‘they’ she spoke of, but the alley was empty.

---

“Murder! Murder I say!” Cooper yelled as he ran to her aid. As he knelt by her side there was a dull thump as a desiccated eyeball rolled out of the dead man’s palm. Cooper recoiled in disgust and horror, looking around for help. “Quickly, quickly! The man’s eyeball has come out!? Great bad deeds! Is there anyone here?!”

“There’s no-one!” Eli called in response, feeling chuffed to have taken the early initiative that allowed him to answer. “And look: the dead man has two complete eyes—so it’s not his eyeball!”

“You’re right, it’s not his,” the woman said, surprised. “Well spotted, young…orc. He must have got it from the cult we were investigating, and now he’s dead!”

Eli was double chuffed after the compliment. “And it’s too small to be a horse’s eye, so you’re wrong about the colt,” he said confidently. The woman looked confused as he knelt down to pick up the eyeball, only to have it fly out of his reach and into Idris’s three outstretched fingers.

Idris peered closely at the eye—it was larger than a human eye, but Eli might be right about the horse. “This is preserved, magically I think. And there is a faint green glow around the pupil.”

Jondo stepped up and studied the woman. He immediately noted a patch sewn to her shoulder that indicated she too was a Neverwinter commissioned militia. He hadn’t seen her around the barracks, but it had only been a few days. He looked closer at the sewn symbol and saw it had an extra chevron: an investigator, more senior than his troupe.

“Was this your partner?” Cooper asked.

“He was—one of my cousins,” she said with a catch in her voice.

“Pardon, investigator,” Idris said, “And I’m very sorry for the loss of your partner, but firstly—this eyeball is too large to have come from something our size.”

“I agree.”

“You mentioned a ‘cult’ of some sort?”

The woman nodded, looking around to make sure she wasn’t overheard. “Yes. We were commissioned to investigate cult activity reported in the western ruins of the city. Neverember only sent two of us and look at the result of his cheapness. Curse that man!”

“Go on,” Idris encouraged, ignoring the slight on his employer.

“Devlin,” she continued, looking down at the man, “My cousin, he said he’d found something and asked me to meet. But when I arrived he was already dead.”

“Allow me,” Brother Cooper said as he lent down to check the body. He held a glowing hand over the man’s mouth as if to heal him, then shook his head. “No. He’s dead.”

“Obviously,” the woman frowned.

Flukespan squatted by Cooper and carefully rolled the body onto it’s side. He pulled his magnifying glass out to study the wounds. There was a series of dagger strikes peppering his back around the kidneys and lungs. “Many attackers, thugs most like, and all at once. This was a planned kill. Precise, and from men of the same height as the victim. He didn’t fight back—no defensive wounds, and no weapon.”

“There are wounds on the front too,” Idris pointed out. “It’s possible if he was stabbed on all sides that he was sacrificed. That’s a cultish kind of thing to do.”

Eli noted the pool of blood that had collected. “Did he leave a trail, or was he killed here?” Pigs for the slaughter that escaped mid-knife often led a tell-tale river of blood as they ran in circles squealing.

Cooper lit the alley again with his moonstone. “Yes! There’s a trail of blood! This way!”

“Good work Brother Cooper,” Eli nodded.

The woman looked to Eli. “I must return to my family and tell them the news of Devlin. I can deputise you six to investigate in my absence. Find out what he knew, and if you find the cult—kill them all! Neverember may pay for captives, but I want them dead!”

“We will find you at the watchhouse once our investigation is complete,” Idris said formally.

“What is your name, sister?” Eli said kindly.

“My name is Kevori Fearnehart. Our reward is yours should you rout this cult.”

“We don’t need any reward, Kevori,” Cooper said firmly. “A crime has been committed tonight.”

Jondo stepped beside Cooper and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You may not need the money, Brother Jamison, but some of us do,” he said quietly.

“We are all children of Lathander—we will get our reward in turn,” Brother Cooper preached.

“It’s only coming from Lord Neverember,” Kevori spat. “Take it! Donate it if you must, but take it.”

“I take only my stipend.”

“We all receive a stipend for food. What more could we ask?” Eli nodded.

“What is the reward?” Idris asked, cutting to the chase.

“One hundred gold. Each.”

“Okay!” Idris smiled, glancing at Jondo.

“Good luck. Avenge him, please,” Kevori said.

“No luck needed for we are blessed by Lathander tonight,” Brother Jamison declared portentously.

---

“Let us follow this trail,” Cooper said. He looked down at Flukespan. “Creature! With your little glass—maybe you can come along and check the trail? What was your name again?”

“Flukespan,” Flukespan said.

“I will call you ‘Flukey’!”

“Please don’t,” Flukespan said as he followed the footsteps of blood.

“And you, Jon, let’s go!” Cooper said pointing to Jondo. “Flukey has found the way.”

The traces of blood were easy to follow, and Flukespan led the company to a dead-end that was sealed off by a five-foot wall covered in smears of blood. “Devlin must have climbed over here,” Flukespan said, pondering how he was going to get over the huge edifice.

Eli saw the dilemma. “Would you like me to lift you, Brother?”

Before Flukespan could answer he felt a pair of hands lift him onto the top of the wall. “There you go, Flukey,” Cooper said with satisfaction as Eli looked on with surprise.

Flukespan flailed to stop from falling. He started preparing his rope to shimmy down the far side.

“It’s ok, I can help you—I’ll climb over and lift you down,” Cooper said helpfully as he hopped over.

Both Flukespan and Cooper could see that the trail went cold on the other side: no further tracks in the lane that led to a larger thoroughfare. However the wall on the far side was was chipped and covered in trails of blood. Clearly the killing had happened here. “Flukey—tell the others!”

“He was held up against this wall and stabbed,” Flukespan reported. “A large pool of blood. He must have been left for dead, but managed to clamber over the wall before collapsing where Kevori found him.”

Idris continued to study the eyeball floating above his palm, Uthar taking a closer look too. “It’s not an animal,” he grunted, “The iris is humanoid.”

As they studied the eye Kevori called out behind. “I’ve found something! On the body!”

Idris turned to see her holding up a slip of crumpled parchment. A rookie error not to search the body, he grimaced. “I’ll be back in a moment—it seems our investigatory skills need a little honing.”

Kevori handed the paper to Idris. “Forgive us, we’ve only been doing this a few days,” he said.

“I can tell,” she smirked. “First thing: always check the bodies. In any case, this might help.”

“Always check the bodies,” Eli mouthed her words softly, the better to remember them.

Idris carefully folded the crumpled note, finding a simple phrase scratched on it in ink:

Hail the Undying

Flukespan arrived, having been helped back over the wall by Jondo this time. “May I have a look at that?” Idris floated the sheet down into Flukespan’s hand. “The handwriting is very rough—it must have been written in a hurry.” He lifted it to his nose and smelled. “Sewer.”

Eli knelt down, way down, to bring his head to Flukespan’s level, following his every move.

“Maybe we could ask the Dead Rats if they know where this is from,” Flukespan suggested, thinking of how he could call in a favour from the rival gang.

“And what does it say?” Eli said keenly.

“‘Hail the Undying’,” Flukespan read.

“A reference to the turn of the seasons then,” Eli declared to blank looks.

As Flukespan spoke the phrase, the floating eyeball suddenly started to glow and pulse, the green light from withing swelling. It spun to face unwaveringly down the alley.

“Ah! Now that is interesting,” Idris smiled. “I believe we’re going that way, gentlemen.”

“I’ve heard of a so-called god that styles himself the ‘Undying’,” Brother Cooper said casually. “His name is ‘Vecna’, a myth much like Stormwatch, that kind of thing.”

“Storm-who?” Eli asked.

“A tall story in penny-dreadfuls you can buy on any corner,” Cooper said, reminded again that Eli must have led a very sheltered life indeed.

“I’ve collected many of their stories! And I’ve heard of Stormwatch!” Flukespan piped up. In fact he had been recruited by one of them, or so he fervently believed.

“Well I’ve heard of them, but the stories are ridiculous,” Brother Cooper mocked.

“I…I…maybe,” Flukespan said holding his tongue.

“Look they’re as believable as the giant kobold god Octavian…and going to hell and having ice-cream. Hero fan-fiction!”

“These stories sound blasphemous,” Eli said quietly.

“Oh? In what capacity are they blasphemous, Master Hedgeberry?” Idris said, curious.

“Brother Hedgeberry,” Eli corrected. “They go against the natural order.”

“And that would be?”

“…The natural order.”

“Ah. Of course.” Even Cooper seemed confused by Eli’s declaration.

“So this Vecna, do we know him?” Jondo said. He had never heard the name, though he was a fan of penny-dreadfuls.

“I’ve heard the name used as a curse,” Idris offered. “People having a bad run of luck over the cards, or accusing someone of cheating in Vecna’s name. Is she, he, or it, real?”

“I’ve always assumed not,” Cooper said. “I’ve never seen a church of Vecna. There is a church of Lathander, and I can heal people with that power. I just assumed he was a bit of a bogeyman.”

“By all reports from my gambling friends he must be a nasty piece of work.”

“I think he was probably, like all these stories, just a really horrible man named Vecna who did horrible things, and then it became a story,” Cooper explained patiently.

“It’s one of the Names We Shall Not Mention,” Eli added to everyone’s surprise. “Sometimes I’ve heard Elder Rustel Bunion, as he’s trying to fix his plough, he’s gone ‘oh by Vecna this plough’ and my father has covered my ears and gone ‘don’t listen to Rustel Bunion his age is getting the better of him’.” Eli looked around shyly as everyone listened, waiting for a grand insight. Eli blushed.

“Well. Let’s follow the trail!” Brother Cooper said wandering back down the lane.

---

Eli hustled to reach the wall before Cooper and Flukespan. “Brother Timbers,” he said squatting. “Would you like me to assist you over the wall?”

“Yes please, that would be grand!” Flukespan found Eli’s grip to be firm and not in any way condescending, unlike Brother Cooper’s earlier liberties. “Thank you very much! I really appreciate that.”

Cooper frowned. I lifted him twice and didn’t get any thanks. Typical non-believer!

Idris elbowed Jondo as Flukespan was helped over. “I have to admit, I—am I the only person who thought Master Timbers was…female? He’s very pretty.”

Jondo nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same myself. They are. Them are.”

“I agree!” Brother Cooper hissed.

“He’s certainly a gnome of uncommon pulchritude,” Idris added.

“I agree!” Brother Cooper repeated despite having no idea what that meant.

“As a gnome he is very elfin,” Jondo observed.

“Love the aquiline nose too, I have to say,” Idris said. “And obviously noses aren’t big where I come from, so…”

“Master Idris you have a keen eye,” Jondo smirked as he glanced at the githyanki’s typically stunted nose, “But is your keen eye turned in the right direction? Shall we go on?”

Everyone clambered over as Eli was courteously helping a very grateful Flukespan down.

The wall was finally conquered, and the company pressed on.

---

At the thoroughfare the eye turned it’s gaze westerly. It was clearly acting as some manner of compass, Idris doing his best to keep it concealed as he pointed the way it led.

Quite quickly it was clear the eye was heading into one of the less salubrious and still semi-ruined sections in the western edges of the city, not quite rebuilt, on the periphery of the more acceptable areas.

Eventually the withered eyeball aimed its empty gaze down an alley strewn with rubble. Rats scurried between chunks of old stone and dusty crates. At the back of the alley was a set of mouldering wood boards, propped up just enough to block a dark tunnel leading below the surface.

“A cellar entrance? Or sewer?” Eli whispered.

Jondo stepped to the boards and peered inside. “The latter,” he declared. “It has the same stench as the parchment.”

Flukespan had been scanning the streets on the journey. “No gangs owns this territory,” he declared, “Too decrepit. We should be safe, and if anyone is down there it’s not the Dead Rats.”

“Who are the gangs?” Eli asked with trepidation.

“Oh there are many. You’ll get to know them,” Flukespan grinned.

Eli nodded wisely. “Brother Jondo—we’re looking for the ‘Colt’ gang.”

“Cult? Isn’t that religious, not a gang?”

“A cult is an esoteric ideal,” Brother Cooper pontificated.

Eli was getting very confused. A horse was an ideal? An esoteric ideal? “I just wonder what our agenda is? Jondo?”

“Our agenda is to find the murderer!” Cooper declared.

Jondo nodded. “It’s a fairly straightforward one, and there’s money at the end.”

“No need for money!”

“Could a murderer have got through here?” Eli said glancing at the boards.

“A cultist, perhaps,” Cooper nodded.

“Are cultists very thin?”

“Maybe,” Jondo said as he grabbed the rotting boards, wrenching them free. They were very easy to remove. “Or maybe not,” he smiled as he stepped inside.

“Trickery!” Brother Cooper cried. “Employed by the cultists!”

Eli was stunned that the boards were fake. He felt confused, but couldn’t help be slightly offended by the very poor carpentry. “These wouldn’t have stopped anything—a goat could have got through here.”

---

A dark tunnel led down 20-feet below the streets of Neverwinter, the walls constructed of stone blocks that were slick with moisture. The slippery floor was a mix of stone slabs and packed earth, and rough hewn ceilings stood 10-feet overhead. Cooper recharged his glowing stone of light for those that could not see, which revealed to everyone he had also produced a perfumed handkerchief that he secured over his nose and mouth.

“Remember what we practiced—no light to give us away,” Jondo reminded everyone.

“Except for Lathander’s light,” Brother Cooper mumbled softly as he pocketed his stone.

Jondo led the way, soon realising there was no need to hide the light as he spied a dimly smouldering torch at the foot of the passage. He held his hand up for stop when he heard the soft lapping of water echoing through a chamber ahead. Wood and stone debris from collapsed buildings littered the area, and brackish water flooded nearly half of the chamber, getting deeper toward a dark tunnel to the west.

“I can see a something behind that collapsed rubble to the south,” Jondo whispered. “Check it, Flukespan.”

Flukespan moved silently to the rubble, finding a cramped tunnel behind. “It’s too small for any of you,” he said. “I could go in.” Jondo cleared the rubble quickly, and the tiny gnome squeezed inside. He could stand, just, but there was no way the hobgoblin or orcs could fit down here. The earthen ceiling looked ready to collapse with the slightest provocation. He pulled out his rope—beautifully crafted silken thread—and tossed one end back to Eli who was watching his progress. “Would you mind holding this please? I’m a bit worried about a cave-in—don’t come in here.”

“By all means,” Eli nodded. Flukespan continued through the tunnel, emerging some 25-feet further into a small chamber that led west toward a stone door, and south toward a foul-smelling chamber. He wanted to go west but the rope wouldn’t stretch that far. He crawled back until he could see Eli and reported. “I think if you head west you will meet up with me. Let go of the rope and I’ll meet you in the middle.”

Eli frowned, not sure splitting up was a good idea, but released the rope as requested. “Flukespan wants us to go that way,” he told the rest of the company, pointing to the murky water. Jondo nodded and waded into the water without hesitation. The stagnant water very quickly bottomed out to about 3-feet deep. Uthar followed close behind.

“Okay, good, keep going,” Brother Cooper called, conspicuously not moving off the dry stone.

“Brother Idris would you like me to carry you?” Eli asked politely. Idris smiled but shook his head as he waded in. “No, but thank you.”

“Brother Cooper?” Eli said, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! Yes that would be most helpful,” the priest nodded. “It looks horrible.” Eli nodded and hoisted Cooper onto his shoulder as he stepped into the water, fondly recalling walking through the rice-field of home as his boots filled. Idris looked back with a cocked eyebrow. Was Cooper really that squeamish?

Jondo rounded the corner of the flooded passage, using his arms to pull himself through the murky water. As he stepped ahead he saw something out of the corner of his eye: a ripple of water was heading toward him. A moment later a creature seemingly made of the brackish water itself burst from below the surface, looming over him like a massive wave.

Jondo cried out as the massive water creature surrounded Jondo with fluid arms and jerked him into the centre of its watery form then thrust him below the surface.

“Put me down!” Cooper yelled, and Eli obliged, tossing him bodily from whence he came. Eli spun, paused for a heartbeat not sure what to do. Then he shoved Brother Idris to the side—“Excuse me!"—and swung his blade for what felt like the first time. In fact it was the first time, and as a result he missed appallingly. Without thinking he flung his other hand out and punched, flailing wildly and hitting nothing.

Uthar pushed through the water to come face-to-face with the creature, swinging his blade but catching only water. How do you hit water!?

Under the water, Jondo was struggling mightily to get free, using every skill he had. But he couldn’t rip himself free, and started to panic as he felt his breath being squeezed out. He willed health into his body, but knew he couldn’t last long. He prayed to the gods of war that one of his companions would heal him.

Idris raised a hand and a mote of fire shot into the water–weird, shearing off a swathe of water. “That’s how you hit it!” he cried. He shunted his palm toward the creature, forcing it to retreat further down the corridor. As a result both Uthar and Eli got a second chance. Eli sunk his fist into the body the creature to try and grab Brother Jondo, hauling out an explosion of fetid water instead—but the creature seemed to shudder! Uthar plunged his sword in as a follow up and he too sheared a huge splash of water from it.

---

Unaware of the drama unfolding, Flukespan crept down the western corridor to find a semi-hidden door with a pull clasp. He listened but could hear nothing beyond, so he carefully pulled it open.

Inside was a stone, gold-painted sarcophagus resting in the centre of what must be a tomb. Old weapons and decorated armour listened the walls of the room. He stood stock still, making sure the lid of the coffin was sealed, before clambering on top. The lid had a faintly distinguishable family crest carved into it—a blunted six-point crown—but he couldn’t place it.

He heard some splashing from ahead, assuming his friends were working their way through the water.

He jumped down and peered at the side of the sarcophagus, finding a relief depicting two women gazing over a field and a city. The city was a generic image, but the two figures were finely detailed as if identifiable to those who knew. He suspected one would be buried within. He gave a half-hearted shove of the lid, but it wasn’t budging.

He turned his attention to the weapons and armour. Most of it was rusted beyond repair, but there was a shield that had more than stood the test of time: a plain kite shield with pointed end that looked in excellent condition. He jumped up and started to wrangle it off the wall as best he could.

---

“In the name of Lathander!” Brother Cooper cried. As if answering his call, a sphere of blazing fire appeared in the centre of the watery creature, sending jets of steaming water from it’s porous form. “Lathander strikes!”

The water–weird continued to hold Jondo underwater, throttling the life out of him. Those close could see Jondo’s body starting to go limp, the fight leaving him. Eli didn’t pause, diving into the filthy water and wrapping his arms around the struggling warrior. He wrenched with all his might, pulling Jondo free and bursting through the surface. Jondo gasped in a desperate breath. “Sorry,” Eli said to the spluttering figure, then stepped forward and slapped the waterwall for good measure, spraying water into the slime-covered wall.

Uthar called on his god and empowered his weapon with their light. Cooper gasped as he saw the weapon burst with radiant light, as if it were blessed. A divine light! he realised. Uthar thrust his weapon into the creature, exploding burning light from within.

Jondo was furious—and wanted revenge. Despite being half-dead and fully soaked, he stepped forward rather than back, the fighting spirit filling him. He glowed with renewed health and struck hard and fast, a blur of steel from his twin blades sluicing through the water beast. The creature’s form was failing, barely holding itself together. Idris unravelled that last thread with another bolt of fire, and the elemental creature collapsed in a shower of rank water.

Jondo whipped the water off his blades and sheathed them, then grabbed the wall to stabilise himself. He was sodden, cold, and hurt. He struggled to dry land and turned to his friends. “A little help here, please.”

“As soon as I get to a solid footing,” Cooper cried from the back of the room.

Eli waded back to collect Brother Cooper, carrying him over and depositing him next to Jondo. “What ails you, Brother Jondo?” Eli asked.

“My body feels somewhat sodden. Perhaps a little bit of help would be good.”

Cooper looked at the sodden figure with pity. “Do you wish to be healed?”

“I do.”

“Pray with me, Jon. Do you have a god?”

Jondo laughed softly. Idris frowned, then stared at Jondo, who heard his voice inside his head: “Just say yes.”

Jondo shook his head, then lifted it to stare at Cooper. “Yes, I have a god.”

“Oh. And what is the name of this ‘other’ god?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Jondo scowled, “Is there someone else who can heal?”

Cooper’s demeanour completely changed, suddenly deadly serious, deep in his faith. “That is the price! Lathander doesn’t just give his blessing like a whore on the street! Do you have a faith and do you wish to accept his blessings?”

Jondo shook his head. “I’m sorry. I repeat, is there someone else who can help me?”

“Well I’m sorry,” Cooper stepped back, folding his arms.

Uthar had watched this with grim displeasure: what Cooper was doing was dishonourable. He strode over to Jondo, helping to straighten him up, slipping in an incidental heal as he did so. He hoped no-one would notice, but Jondo spoke his thanks.

Eli looked to Brother Cooper with confusion. There was no anger in his eyes, he simply wanted to understand.

Cooper scowled: what kind of god gives out blessings with no acknowledgement, no show of devotion. But he needed to set an example for young Eli. He stepped forward. “I ask you again, Jon. All you have to do is say you would like to be healed by the power of Lathander. It isn’t—”

“That was not the question, my good man,” Jondo interrupted.

“So you would not want to be healed?”

“That was not the question. The question was about my faith not being compatible with your faith.”

“No. That was an implication you’ve made, sir. All I wanted to know was: who do you believe in?”

“That is a personal matter.”

“Why didn’t you say that?” Brother Cooper raised his hand, which glowed with holy light. “Would you like to be healed by the power of Lathander?”

Jondo pushed past Cooper. “I shouldn’t need to ask—we are all as one here,” he muttered.

Eli shook his head, no closer to understanding. He turned and walked up the stone steps into the room beyond.

---

Glossy urns and cinerary boxes lined the walls of the vaulted rotunda Eli stepped into. He shuddered to a halt: drifting in the centre of the room above a drain was a ghostly, transparent, humanoid figure, clad in plate armour. Where a head should be there was instead a featureless, luminescent orb. “A ghost!” Eli cried, just as Flukespan reappeared from a set of stairs to the south.

The ghost turned toward Eli and floated slowly in his direction. Eli backed up until he felt his companions behind him. The ghost followed, floating into view of the company. “Whooo areee youuuu?”

Brother Cooper reacted fast. “Stay back, poltergeist!”

“Whooo areee youuuu??”

“Back! Back you foul being!!” Cooper called on Lathander again, presenting his symbol and turning the undead fiend with the strength of his holiness. The ghost recoiled in horror, wailing and retreating at great speed, disappearing down a corridor opposite.

“It is fine, good friends,” Cooper intoned, “Lathander has struck the foul creature down. It has run away to its evil minions.”

Eli looked in awe. Brother Cooper had many skills.

Jondo sprinted after the ghost, pulling to a halt when he saw a collection of shuddering humanoid creatures at the far end. “Brace yourself—more comes!” he called. He glanced over at Flukespan, who waved him over. “Come here, quick!”

“You come here!”

“I’ve found something!”

“Are you in danger?”

“No not really—”

“Then get over here!”

Flukespan shrugged. He quickly ran back into the tomb. There was a lot of crashing and clanking, then the tiny gnome stumbled back into the central room hauling a shield twice his height behind him. “Why didn’t you just listen, it would have taken five seconds,” he grumbled, breathing hard. “Do you want it? It belongs to something dead down there, but it looks like it’s special.”

Idris shook his head in wonder, then moved over to heft the shield. “Thank you, Master Timbers.” It was an impressive find, and he wouldn’t be surprised to find it had magic embedded. He looked questioningly to Cooper.

“I have no shield as I am protected by Lathander,” Brother Cooper answered solemnly.

Idris tried not to roll his eyes, then turned to Uthar. “This looks like a nice piece, do you want it?”

Uthar took the shield and felt it’s weight: it was good, balanced, and strong—and he could sense no evil from it. Far better than the military piece he carried. He unstrapped his and attached Flukespan’s find instead. “Thank you,” he nodded gruffly to the exhausted gnome.

As he did the keening from the ghost suddenly returned, and a moment later it floated back into the room. Despite not having a face, it was obvious that the undead was unhappy. It swung wildly at Jondo, who was closest, but he dodged away with ease.

Brother Cooper was shocked (and embarrassed) to see the ghost was back. “Oh! Lathander has let it return,” he stammered weakly. Eli’s awe faded somewhat.

Warmed up by the watery fight, everyone sprung into instant action. Idris flung a cluster of magic missiles and shoved the ghost backward, allowing Jondo to swing hard and true. Uthar jumped forward and slashed the creature with his longsword as Jondo followed up with his crossbow, and the simultaneous blows caused the ghost to dematerialise.

Brother Cooper dropped to one knee and recovered the situation. “Thank you, Lathander.”

---

Zombie Apocalypse

Brother Eli peered down the sewer hole in the centre of the chamber, seeing only murky black water. Smelly murky black water.

“There’s a dead person in a coffin down here,” Flukespan squeaked, pointing toward the room to the south east.

“When you say there was a dead person, you mean you saw the dead person? Or was it some kind of sarcophagi?” Brother Cooper asked.

“Uh…yeah, one of those,” Flukespan said, adding the plural to his mental dictionary.

“Well I doubt they’re going to come out, but we could take a look? Though what about the creatures down the opposite corridor, where the ghost came from?”

“I can see at least two,” Idris muttered, looking over Uther’s shoulder who nodded in agreement. “Or maybe three. Oddly they’re not heading this way.”

“They might be prisoners,” Eli said considerately, “Let’s go and see if we can help them.”

Uther chuckled. Eli’s innocence was endearing, and slightly worrying given the situation.

“After you—I’m no longer point man,” Jondo said pulling out his light crossbow.

Those with better vision quickly determined just how wrong Eli was. The humanoids in the room at the end of the corridor shambled around mindlessly, skin rotting and hair hanging limp. “Undead,” Uther warned.

“Not prisoners! Not prisoners!” Eli called, “But their souls might need saving?” he said to Brother Cooper.

“Are you sure they have souls?” Brother Cooper questioned, to a shrug and slight look of panic from Eli.

“Sirs—do you want me to go first and have a look?” Flukespan volunteered.

“Be my guest,” Idris said, proffering his hand.

“Young mistress, you stay behind,” Eli warned.

“What? What was that?” Flukespan said. Surely he misheard? “I’m not a mistress, I’m a male!”

Eli looked mortified. “You have a certain countenance, that’s all. Sorry—I beg your pardon.”

“So judgemental,” Flukespan muttered beneath his breath, “Just because I’m a weefolk.” He sniffed the air as he got close to the room boundary. “They’re not wererats at least,” he reported. The shambling creatures didn’t react to the approach, almost as if they were bound to the room, or had no perception beyond.

“We should get the jump!” Idris hissed.

“And lay them to rest,” Eli added.

“Yes, brother,” Uther nodded, pulling his sword.

“Wait! Hey, whoa! Didn’t we have a priest with us here?” Eli said, looking back for Brother Cooper.

“Yes, I am back here!” Brother Cooper affirmed from the rear.

“Where the heck are you?”

“What do you mean? Just kill the abominations.”

“Oh I see, you’re leading from the back. I understand.”

“He’s not leading anything,” Idris smirked.

Eli frowned. “Shouldn’t we lay their souls to rest?”

“Yes that’s what I just said—kill them, and I will come in and do just that,” Brother Cooper called.

“Kill them?” Eli said, befuddled.

Jondo groaned and fired his crossbow, weaving the bolt between Uther and Eli and tearing away a chunk of undead flesh. Flukespan took the cue, firing his crossbow to send his own bolt whistling between Uther’s legs into the same zombie.

Eli shoved his way past Uther and jumped into the room, hitting hard and following up with a fist to the head of the foul creature. There were at least half a dozen more creatures in the room, and Eli quickly found himself near surrounded as the zombies stumbled toward him. “There are more souls to be saved!” he cried bravely, under a hail of rotting fists which he swerved away from.

Idris sent a bolt of fire into another of the zombies, trying but failing to push it back. Brother Cooper found he couldn’t approach the battle, straining to see clearly down the narrow corridor. No matter: “In the name of Lathander! Kill them, Uther!” he yelled, confident his words would inspire greatness.

“Uther?” Eli frowned, parrying more incoming blows. “I’m right here!”

Uther heard a muffled cry from the back, deciding it was of no import—Eli needed his help. He strode into the room and started laying waste to the horrific undead. He felled his first with a single powerful swing.

“We’ve saved one, brother!” Eli smiled, paffing away a pathetic zombie. Uther was about to respond when, against the odds, he was hammered by a zombie fist. Eli couldn’t believe it—why didn’t Uther just dodge? Uther on the other hand seemed to enjoy it, grunting and bringing his new shield to bear on the new enemy. As he turned he glimpsed a desecrated shrine on the other side of the room, a carved scroll the centrepiece.

Jondo fired again into the swarming mass of zombies, not wanting to engage in his still damaged state. The zombie collapsed, satisfyingly, but then to Brother Eli’s horror it started to crawl toward him, its undeadness giving it a second—or third—life. Eli didn’t waste any time, stomping the head of the creature and stopping it for good. He went to kick the next zombie but slipped on the slime from his remains of the head.

Flukespan shimmied into the room and fired at point blank, hitting, but not hard. The zombie swung back, missing, just. Flukespan fired again in a panic, but missed in his haste. “M’lady” Eli cried, spinning to assist the young lady—gentleman, young gentleman!—with a swing of his blade.

Idris stepped forward, seeing the full chaos of the zombie apocolypse ahead. He quickly shot out a bolt of flame, but in his enthusiasm he sent it directly into the back of Brother Eli, who cried out in surprise, not sure from where the stike had come—a friend? He had been taught by his father that the outsiders did not respect his kind, and he quietly added this to his list of learnings. “Cleanse their souls!” he cried. Idris cursed, pushing a zombie away from the melee scrum, which allowed Uther the opportunity to swing and hit.

Brother Cooper noted Idris’s mistake, almost assasinating one of the party, filing it away for later penance. “In the name of Lathander!” he yelled and three scorching bolts shot past Eli—missing him this time—and engulfing a filthy undead creature. “I wear a shield of faith!” Eli yelled to the flames, just as a zombie finally hit him, disproving the theory with a bludgeoning blow.

Uther used his own shield to deflect an incoming blow, then retaliated with his sword. The zombie died properly an instant later, allowing Uther to step forward and shove another zombie to the ground with a shunt of his shield. He didn’t account for the zombie approaching from behind, taking a brutal blow to his lower back.

Jondo was getting frustrated. Shooting a crossbow was all well and good, but he wanted to feel steel digging into flesh. Rotting flesh, but flesh none-the-less. He shrugged off his wounds and bounded into the room. He bumbled his first swing, but the second satisfied his craving. The fire of battle surged through him causing him to swing wildly with this third, and perilously close to Eli’s head.

“Finish him!” Idris cried. Eli braced himself for a blow from behind—surely his father wasn’t that right with his prognosis? No time for that now! He flung out a fist, still recovering from his slip, obliterating the closest zombie. “Geearararraagghhh!” Eli gurgled, the strangled cry ringing around the room as he crushed a dead zombies head with his boot.

“My god, what is happening?” Brother Cooper muttered seeing Eli’s countenance, innocence replaced by a raging fury and…hunger?

Idris floated three motes through the air and into a zombie. The first two dropped it to the ground, but it too started crawling forward with a second wind, so Idris finished it with the final missile. He also shunted back a zombie triangulated between Uther, Jondo, and Eli, and the three made short work of it. If felt good to work in tandem, and the fight was turning as a result.

The remaining zombies continued their relentless attacks, undeterred. One hit Eli, drawing another fevered gurgle, another smashed Jondo—who took a heavy blow, buckling his knees. He swung hard in return, destroying the attacker who fell dead dead to the ground.

Brother Cooper considered sending a funnel of flame down the corridor, but concluded his companion’s lack of faith may not protect them from Lathander’s cleansing fire. Instead he threw a light into the room. “Lathander! Light this combat!” he cried, again congratulating himself for his inspiring work.

Flukespan used the light to bury his crossbow into a zombie’s groin and fire. The zombie shuddered. Eli turned to the same, hitting with his weapon and finishing it off. Pleased, Eli spent his energy to crash both fists into another. It fell, but started crawling, and Eli’s disturbing countenance darkened further as he repeatedly stomped the head and ground the rotting flesh into the stone.

Idris finished off the final zombie with another bolt of flame, and the battle was won.

---

“Brother Cooper?” Eli said, turning. There was a dire need in his eyes.

Brother Cooper grabbed Eli’s hands and locked his gaze. “Brother. All you need to do is just ask for the blessing of Lathander and I will heal you.”

“It’s not my healing—it’s their souls,” Eli said, staring at the fallen zombie horde.

“Oh!” Brother Cooper released his grip. He was impressed with Brother Eli’s piety, choosing the fallen over his own well-being. He knelt down at the nearest undead body, closed his eyes and laid a hand on its chest. “In the name of Lathander, take his soul!” he cried, jerking his hand high as if wresting the soul free. A light flashed out of the raised hand, the soul visibly released. Eli was amazed, watching transfixed as Brother Cooper repeated the procedure on each zombie with great vigour.

Flukespan crept up and pulled out a notebook, taking down details and drawings of everything in the room, describing the zombies, the shrine, the cracked and open tombs from whence the zombies must have emerged. “I’m sure he’s going to want to know about this,” he muttered under his breath.

Idris moved over to the shrine. The carved scroll had been defaced, the writing scratched over by those that had desecrated it. Brother Cooper, work done, joined him and frowned. “Step back. I’m going to defile this shrine in the name of Lathander.”

“Wait,” Uther said, “This is a shrine to Oghma—the blank scroll is his symbol. So it is already defiled by being marked as it has been—these undead were no bards, nor wizards.” He realised too that it could be rededicated.

“Very well—a neutral god. We can leave it.”

Eli scratched his head. From what he had been taught, hobgoblins were hired muscle, not religious leaders, yet here was Uther ordering Brother Cooper to stand down. Another learning. He shrugged and started to move toward the corridor leading out of the room to the south.

“Eli—before you go that way,” Idris said, “I did recall another passageway leading off from the ghost chamber. Do we want to have a small recce of that before we delve any further, lest there be anything behind us.”

“I think we should definitely do that,” Uther nodded.

Eli had a vague memory of a text he had read regarding dungeoneering—something about the battle to the front and the battle to the rear. But he failed to recall the details, so turned and followed. “Where’s Flukespan?” he said.

Everyone looked around to find the tiny rogue had disappeared. “Maybe gone back to his sarcophagus?” Idris suggested.

“We’ll soon find out.”

---

Uther and Brother Cooper, both confident they were protected by their respective lord, climbed the steps into the north western chamber. The smell of old parchment filled the tomb that lay ahead. Bookshelves carrying various tomes and scholarly implements stood against the walls, and in the centre was a stone, gold-painted sarcophagus. There was no sign of Flukespan.

“I’ll check those books,” Uther said, flipping through the tomes. They made no sense to him, obviously more concerned with magic that religion.

“This is somebody’s tomb,” Eli said to Brother Cooper, “Why are we interested?”

“Well there’s numerous books and we’re looking for evidence of this cult,” Brother Cooper explained.

“They keep their evidence in a tomb?”

“They might have thought it would be protected by their undead brethren.”

“There are no undead brethren here and—”

“Not now!” Brother Cooper declared triumphantly.

“Someone is laying to rest here!” Eli protested.

“Well a creature of some sort. Look at the scream on that sarcophagi.”

Eli looked and saw no such thing. The top of the tomb was rather nicely decorated with a rose motif, bringing memories of the gardens of his Hin-folk.

Job done educating Eli, Brother Cooper pushed Uther aside and started to ransack the shelves. He quickly found what he was looking for.

“It looks like we have a ritual set here,” he said knowingly with a glance to Eli, “These incense sticks, this is obviously a component pouch for some kind of ritual, and this,” he said, holding up a golden, heart-shaped locket. He tried to open it but found it locked. “Bring up that girl! I have a locket here that needs to be unlocked.”

Everyone looked around for Flukespan, and a moment later he stepped into the room. Everyone did a second take—Flukespan had changed. His nose had shrunk, his ears were now rounded not pointy, and he sported a healthy, blonde, well-groomed beard.

---

“Flukespan?” Eli said tentatively. “You really are a man?”

“Give me the locket,” the steely-eyed rogue said putting out his hand. His voice had deepened too.

Brother Cooper shrugged and handed it over. Flukespan deftly picked the tiny lock. “Not very strong,” he said, popping the locket open. There was a small portrait of a human woman’s face, with an inscription: “My dearest Chanelle,” Flukespan read, describing the picture to the group.

“I wonder if she’s linked to that,” Eli said, pointing to the sarcophagus.

Idris crouched down to study the tomb. On either side there was a beautiful relief carving of two humanoid women exploring a forest together, one in mage robes, the other armoured. The detail and stonework was impressive, and Idris suddenly realised something. “Does that look like the armour the ghost was wearing?” he said to Uther.

Uther leaned in close and nodded. “I think it does,” he said with interest.

“Which to me means either the ghost is interred in this tomb, or perhaps it was the companion of this person.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have been so hasty killing that ghost,” Jondo mused.

“If the ghost was good, it would not have taken Lathander’s gift and left,” Brother Cooper declared piously.

“There’s a second grave, remember,” Eli said. “The one young sist…brother Flukespan found.”

Idris looked around the room. “By virtue of the fact that there is no martial material in this room, one could infer that this tomb belongs to the robed woman, and the other room, Master Flukespan’s, maybe her partner or friend?”

“The other sarcophagus has the same two figures,” Flukespan exclaimed excitedly.

“Given the elaborate nature of this room and the other, these two people may have been significant at the time of the death.”

“Significant to who?” Eli asked.

“Well significant in that a great deal of money was paid to build this tomb by somebody. And given we found an alter to Oghma inside, perhaps they were followers of him?”

“And on what part of the worship of Oghma is zombies predicated?”

“Is it perhaps that ‘Vecna’ has taken over this site,” Brother Cooper suggested.

Idris agreed. “The disquiet of the zombies and their open tombs, and the ghost itself, may be a result of the cult disturbing this place, to use it for their own ends.”

Eli nodded sagely. “Well then we must undo what the cult has done. We must—”

“There is the stink of necromancy around the whole site!” Brother Cooper interrupted dramatically.

“No! You don’t say!” Eli said, the snark in his voice surprising everyone.

“What is that tone?” Brother Cooper frowned.

“Fear and paranoia,” Eli muttered defensively, the snark vanishing as quickly as it had risen.

Brother Cooper stared sternly at Eli for a moment, then looked to the group. “There is one more tomb. Unless we are thinking there is anything in these sarcophagi, but I would rather not defile them if we can avoid that.”

Eli tried to get ahead of the discussion. “Should we not spread the whole place with holy oils, and pray?”

“We did. For the bodies of those who had been obviously corrupted.”

“And the ghost? Where lies she?”

“The ghost has now transferred to the ethereal plane,” Brother Cooper intoned. “I did that. And he has now taken passage with Lathander.”

“She,” Idris corrected, glancing at Flukespan. “And more likely to be Oghma.”

“Well. You are very confident on ghost anatomy, I will say,” Brother Cooper scoffed.

“I am very confident about what I have seen in this place.”

“Should we not therefore explore to make sure there is no-one else here that is disturbing this crypt,” Eli said, “And then we can resanctify it and seal it anew?”

Brother Cooper was once again surprised at the depth of Brother Eli’s religious feeling. Perhaps he had misjudged the brutish orc’s look. “There is one more passage, and then we could do that.”

“Well let us proceed.”

“I agree, let us proceed.”

“All I want to do is sit down and have a rest,” Jondo said suddenly, having found his voice again.

“We have no time for resting, Jondo,” Brother Cooper ordered, “Now is the time to finish this!”

“He does appear to have a leaking artery,” Eli said with some concern.

“As do you,” Jondo observed.

Brother Cooper sighed. He stood between the two orcs, put a hand out to each, and dropped his head in prayer. “Please, let me bless you with the word of Lathander.”

“I accept that blessing,” Eli said immediately, reaching out his hand.

Brother Cooper gripped it with fervour. “Just ask for Lathander’s blessing!”

“I do not ask, because I would not ask such for myself. But I ask it for my brother, Jondo.”

Jondo looked astonished but Brother Cooper didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Jondo’s hand and healed him with an appropriate amount Lathander’s light. After all, Jondo still resisted…

Brother Cooper released Eli’s hand without further healing. “Shall we proceed?”

---

“Flukespan—did you thoroughly examine this other tomb?” Idris asked standing at the threshold.

“I haven’t opened it, it’s too big.”

“We don’t plan to open it,” Brother Cooper said. “Idris—go have a quick look. See if it does fit your theory.”

Idris scooted down, noting the ruined armour and weapons lining the walls. He crouched by the diorama on the sarcophagus, nodding as he saw the armour again matching. It was clearly the ghost, and the same two women. He brushed off the layers of dust on the top of the tomb, revealing the family crest atop. “Can anyone identify this crest?” he called.

“This is the symbol of the Hallwinter family,” Uther said as he regarded the blunted six-point crown. “Their lineage produced renowned knights throughout the Sword Coast, though their power has waned. You were right about their wealth, Idris.”

“Oh the Hallwinters? They’re very well known in Neverwinter,” Idris mused. “This means the ghost, or the ghost’s partner, was Chanelle Hallwinter.”

Jondo studied the still open secret door above the sarcophagus, then had an idea. He retreated to the other tomb and searched the same spot for a matching door. He didn’t find a door, but he did notice a book that was wedged behind the sarcophagus. He lifted it, noting any writing on the cover had long faded. He opened it carefully and was surprised to find it had been hollowed out to create a hidden compartment. Inside was well preserved rolled scroll.

He jogged back to the group. “I found this,” he said proffering the book. “Who’s in charge that I should give it to?”

“Brother Cooper,” Eli said immediately and confidently.

“Well done,” Idris said to Jondo, ignoring Eli’s suggestion. With a half smile he lifted the scroll from the book with his mind. He rotated it to check it wasn’t trapped, then unrolled it and scanned the text. “A spell scroll—Protection from Evil and Good.”

“Evil and good?” Flukespan said. “That’s a bit wishy-washy. You know this place goes further on through this door behind the sarcophagus,” he added. “It’s big enough for you all to fit.”

“Doesn’t that lead back to the tiny passage?” Eli said.

“Yes but it goes further south, too.”

“What about the passage beyond the lost souls?”

“Maybe they link up,” Brother Cooper said. “Let’s go the way that has nice, dry stone, first.”

“Which way, Brother Cooper?”

“This way. Would you like me to hold the scroll?” Brother Cooper said looking sternly to Idris.

Idris paused, then turned to Flukespan. “Maybe we should check that other passage.” He walked past Brother Cooper and, without making eye contact, the scroll floated out and hovered behind his head.

Brother Cooper snatched it from the air. “Thank you!” he said wryly. What had got into Idris? he wondered, rolling his eyes meaningfully at Eli.

“In the Compound we would have called this a ‘power struggle’,” Eli observed.

“The Compound?” Brother Cooper muttered under his breath. That description was more ominous than anything else that had been found down here.

As Jondo stepped toward the door, Flukespan turned to him. “Hey Jondo, do you want to have a look under here?” he said, pointing to the sarcophagus. “I can’t lift it.”

“Oh! Lift it up?” Jondo said. “No, no, I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“There might be treasure though—another shield!”

“What? What?? Little madam…little sir, I beg your pardon, but we’re not opening the sarcophagus!” Eli protested. “Surely you would not encourage us to defile the grave?”

“Oh no, but just for history’s sake?”

“We’re the militia, we’re not archaeologists,” Jondo reminded Flukespan.

“Flukespan, that’s the body. We’re not defiling the dead!” Brother Cooper scowled.

“Ok,” Flukespan said. “But didn’t we just defile a whole heap of dead people?”

“They were abominations! This is a person in a coffin!”

“We saved their souls!” Eli added vehemently. “Is that…its not…we…” he glanced at Brother Cooper for support.

“Why are you going that way, Jondo?” Brother Cooper said. “There’s another passage, a dry passage!”

Jondo pressed on regardless, climbing through the small door. There was a foul stench from ahead, which got stronger as he approached a large pool of murky sewage that filled most of this chamber to the south. Of more concern were the three four-foot-tall burbling masses that slunk through the muck.

“Literally a sewer,” Uther observed uncomfortably.

“We should leave,” Idris said, more worried about the things in the pool than the stench. “Let’s just go the dry way, Cooper was right.”

“Leave? Aren’t burbling masses our mandate?” Eli said.

“No. We’ll come back for them,” Idris said with a hand on Eli’s shoulder.

---

The company returned to the defiled shrine, then moved to the southern corridor. A short distance down a sickly green glow illuminated the darkness. Uther walked cautiously toward the glow, listening and smelling. The stench was growing again, but before he could react, Flukespan jogged past him.

“This could be an emerald!” the rogue called, staring up a large carving of a grinning skull; one eye socket bore a wide eyeball with a jewelled iris, while the other was an empty divot. Facing the skull, a stone double door glowed from the light of the skull, sealing off further progression into the catacombs.

Uther shook his head—Flukespan didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the grinning skull, but was preparing to lift the gem from the glowing eyeball.

“I am going to hazard a guess: that’s Vecna,” Idris warned. “Or as he’s referred to at a gambling table, ‘old one eye’.”

Brother Cooper studied the empty divot and his stomach fell. The socket was a perfect match. “Whatever you do, do not put the eye we found into this face until we know what we are doing!”

Idris looked at Brother Cooper incredulously. “I had absolutely no intention of doing that.”

“Brother Cooper is right,” Uther nodded, “And so is Idris. Vecna is always represented with a missing eye, and it is always the left eye…”

Everyone glanced up at the skull. The left eye was missing.

Flukespan was busy working out how to retrieve the emerald. He clambered up the gem and carefully looked around the socket, checking to see if was trapped in any way. He used his magnifying glass to check for scratches around the rim, finding none. Next he pulled out his tiny crowbar—

“Whoa, whoa, stop!” Brother Cooper cried. He had been okay with Flukespan noodling around, but the crowbar was a step too far.

“I know what I’m doing,” Flukespan said ignoring Brother Cooper. “Are you a professional? I’m a professional.” He moved to the empty socket, gripping the hollow nose of the skull to remain aloft.

“He’s going to kill us all! He’s going to kill us!”

Flukespan sighed. “No, I am not. This gem had obviously been there since the face was constructed. We now know where the eye we found came from. It is removed regularly—I can see scratch marks and pocks all around this empty socket. Why would they do that?”

“The eye we are carrying is not a gem,” Eli reminded him.

“No it’s not. It’s—”

“It’s a key.” Brother Cooper interrupted.

“I understand. But the first step is to determine why someone removed it,” Flukespan said patiently. He loved this kind of investigative challenge, and was going to be thorough about it. “Check for ash around the door, perhaps the gems send eyebeams that zap intruders out of existence.”

No-one moved.

“It’s just a lock. It’s just a key,” Eli shrugged.

“A lock to what?” Flukespan asked.

“Surely it’s to open the doors opposite?” Eli was confused by how complex Flukespan was making this.

“There’s no mechanism inside the socket, no button, no lever,” Flukespan shook his head.

“It could be eyebeams,” Idris said, levitating the desiccated eyeball from his pouch. “Or it could be that the obvious magical glow from the emerald is the other half of the magic of this. In any case you should continue your examination, but if you wouldn’t mind, don’t manipulate or remove anything yet.”

“Of course,” Flukespan nodded. He traced a chalk line from the eye sockets to the door. It was perfectly aligned—a beam of energy or flame would certainly strike the door. There were no obvious ashes at the door face, but they may have been cleaned to avoid suspicion. He put his newly round ear on the door, but could hear nothing through the solid stone. He could also see no locking or opening mechanism on either door.

Eli turned to Brother Cooper, finding him halfway back down the corridor. “Brother Cooper, is this all according to your wishes?”

“I believe it is, but I think Flukespan might accidentally kill everyone, so I’m just staying back here.”

“So why won’t you speak up?”

“I already did, but was ignored, so I have retreated to this position of relative safety.”

Eli looked confused and hurt. From the way Brother Cooper acted, Eli was sure he was the leader of this company. So why was he standing back?

Jondo and Uther meanwhile moved to check the foul smelling passage to the east. “Don’t let Flukey kill us all,” Uther muttered to Idris.

“It’s okay, Brother Cooper can heal him,” Jondo scoffed.

“Smells like it’s that same pool,” Uther said, and a moment later confirmed that when he saw the same bubbling pool. Jondo concurred and they retreated and reported.

Brother Cooper had noted Eli’s distress, and decided on a course of action. He stepped forward and called everyone’s attention. “Idris seems like he has an ability to socket the eye without putting himself or anyone else in danger. He puts the eye in, the doors will open, and we will finally know what malevolence is at the heart of this tomb!”

Eli’s eyes shone with gratitude and wonder. “Brother Cooper. Your wisdom is remarkable.”

“Well then, make some space,” Jondo said, shunting Brother Cooper further away.

“We need you at the front, Brother Cooper,” Eli encouraged. “For the spirts may need guiding to their final resting place.”

“They won’t let me,” Brother Cooper said pointing to Uther and Jondo.

Idris got to work. “Back off, everyone,” he declared. The teams split onto either side of the skull as Idris hovered the desiccated eye into the air. He checked everyone was ready (finding Flukespan between his legs), then slotted it into the gap, iris out.

The eyeball sucked into the socket with a slurp, then pulsed with sickly green light. The double door slowly swung open to reveal a staircase leading further down into darkness.

---

Cultish Behaviour

The bottom of the stairway opened into a wide sanctuary with a vaulted ceiling, with stone pews arranged in orderly rows. Black candles burning green flames occupied niches along the walls.

Those that had any inkling of spiritual belief felt sick to the stomach at the reeking evil the foul chapel represented, Brother Cooper and Uther almost retching through the thick fug of desecration.

As eyes adjusted to the dim light of the church, a pulpit resolved at the far end of the room. Atop the pulpit stood a jagged sculpture of an emaciated hand with one eyeball in its palm.

---

---

The gods-forsaken aura of the foul chapel overwhelmed Brother Cooper and—surprisingly—Jondo. Jondo retreated to the now closed stone doors, spiritually as well as physically repelled. Brother Cooper took a half step back, dropping his head and calling on Lathander’s will to recover his equilibrium.

Uther called on his spiritual strength to resist, pondering if Jondo’s reaction explained why he had refused Brother Cooper’s earlier healing—a hidden faith, perhaps. Uther felt good: there was holy work to be done here and he was more than ready to do it. “This is what we’re here for,” he said softly.

Brother Cooper shook himself, angry at his weakness and shamed at Uther’s strength. He stepped to the centre of the chapel glaring at the sculped hand and gathering himself. “We will resanctify this foulness!”

“You’re letting everyone know we’re here,” Eli warned as he moved around the niches, extinguishing the black flamed candles.

“They would already be aware of us. Our light is shining both physically and spiritually! There are two more passages here—this place is bigger than we thought. We should make sure we are not alone before the sanctification.”

“We should make sure we are alone first,” Eli countered, snuffing another flame. “Or whatever you said.”

Brother Cooper frowned. Brother Eli was getting uppity—some discipline might be required. “Flukey! Is there anything down there?”

“I can’t hear anything,” Flukespan reported. “Seems pretty empty.”

Flukespan and Uther headed down the east passage, which opened into a chamber with several rough bookshelves lining the wall, and a table covered with scattered papers and ink-stained parchments. Flukespan walked ahead into the room, vanishing as he crossed the threshold.

Uther started—what happened to Flukespan!? He started to panic, peering into the darkness but not seeing the diminutive gnome.

Back in the chapel, Jondo peered down the opposite passage and paused. He tapped Brother Eli on the shoulder and pointed. “Do you see that brother?”

“I don’t know what I’m seeing down there,” Eli whispered.

“Someone down there—they look like they’re asleep? In cots against the wall. Despite Brother Cooper’s best efforts it looks like we haven’t woken them.”

Eli smirked, then turned to the man in question. “Brother Cooper,” he whispered, “It looks like there’s some more dead people down here.”

“Well we don’t want to split the party,” Brother Cooper said with a rather too loud voice despite apparently trying to be quiet. “We either go the way Flukey has gone, if he’s still alive, or your way. But not two ways, eh Brother?”

“I agree,” Jondo nodded. “So get Flukey back.”

Brother Cooper turned to the other corridor to find Uther crouched down and waving frantically. “Uther has signalled to me,” he said loud-softly, “I’m going to move to him.” He walked down the corridor. “What is it, Uther?”

“Flukespan has disappeared! He walked into the room and I can’t see him anymore,” Uther whispered, clearly worried.

Brother Cooper nodded. “Stay where you are,” he said firmly, walking back to the chapel (followed by a disobeying Uther). “Flukey is either dead, or absconded. Uther thinks he’s lost. We should go that way and find his body.” He mentally congratulated himself for the excellent commentary he was giving, and for the recovery of his wits when Uther was clearly losing his.

Eli was dumbfounded. Despite his best intentions, he turned to Brother Idris for guidance. Idris was about to speak when Flukespan suddenly appeared in the centre of the chapel. An even smaller version—and better looking? The tiny gnome waved, put his hand to finger to his lips, and mimed creeping and tip-toeing.

“Perhaps that means he’s still alive?” Eli said cautiously. Brother Cooper wasn’t often wrong in Eli’s estimation, but this seemed conclusive.

“Flukespan lives,” Brother Cooper nodded.

Uther thought he knew what was going on. He reached for the figure and waved his hand through the figure. “An illusion. I get it—he’s telling us what he’s doing.” He did his best to creep into the library room, followed by a relaxed Brother Cooper. He heard a whispered “Shhh” and smiled. He turned and indicated success to Idris.

Idris met his gaze and pointed to his head. A moment later his voice was inside Uther’s head. “There are people sleeping in the room at the end of the other corridor. We should probably see to them first.”

After getting over his surprise, Uther nodded slowly.

“If you think about talking back, I’ll be able to hear you,” Idris sent.

“Really? That’s so weird,” Uther sent back—he kind of liked the idea of speaking without speaking. He turned back to the room and spoke softly in the general direction of where he thought Flukespan might be. “There’s people in the other room. We should go back.”

“Ok,” a disembodied voice whispered.

“Understood,” Brother Cooper’s still too loud voice confirmed.

Jondo hadn’t taken his eye off the sleeping figures, going as far as readying his crossbow. Eli waited for a signal from Idris, which arrived a moment later as everyone regathered. “Eli—I think we’re going to go and have a look at the sleeping people.”

“Ok!” Eli said giving a thumbs up, and immediately started trying his best to creep down the corridor. After only a few steps he slipped on a slime-covered paving stone and scratched his sword along the wall with a hideous wail as he tried to recover.

“Wha…who?” a sleepy voice called from the end of the corridor. Eli saw the closest dead person rising to his feet, hastily pulling a crossbow from under a hooded grey robe. “Infidels! Awaken!!” she cried, her hood falling free and revealing herself as a half-orc.

Eli’s eyes widened in surprise as the cultist yelled something unintelligible at him. “Ana nathrak usvad!”

Jondo knew exactly what she said. “You the fuck are you!?” she was hollering in Orcish. Jondo sent his answer in the form of a crossbow bolt that unfortunately flew well wide. He stepped back to allow his companions to advance.

Uther shoved past Eli and charged into the room drawing his sword. He slashed it into the cultist and killed her instantly. “Strike fear into them!” he cried.

The two other cultists—one human, one half-orc—were rousing themselves, bleary-eyed. Eli jumped atop the nearest empty cot and pointed his blade at the panicked cultist. “Stay in your bed, sir!” The cultist’s eyes flashed down to his recently dead companion and back to Eli. He nodded slowly, clearly terrified. He reached back to steady his half-orc ally, glancing further south as he did. Eli followed the gaze and his heart beat faster. “More! At least four more in the next room!” he hissed.

Idris scuttled down the corridor until he could see the two bed-bound cultists, Eli standing over them with sword at one’s throat. He considered the scene for a half-moment: to kill or not to kill? The Watch wasn’t a licence to go around murdering people. But—the cultist had pulled a crossbow unprovoked. And Uther wouldn’t kill without prejudice. Easy decision. He opened his hand and thrust it toward the furthest cultist: a small, leach like creature with a four-tentacled maw flew down the corridor and latched onto the bare-neck of the prone half-orc, sticking on and sucking it’s life.

Brother Eli flinched back in surprise. He was successfully making an arrest and his company were attacking? “These combatants are supressed!” he cried.

A moment later Brother Cooper’s authoritative voice echoed from behind: “Murder them all! Murder the cultists!”

Flukespan obeyed, flashing into the room and sliding under the far cot, ready to attack if the still-living foes moved. The half-orc unfortunately followed his every move. Jondo stepped behind Uther and peered down the barrel of his crossbow, aiming for Eli’s victim. The bolt fired dead and true, but to his great shock diverted into Uther’s shoulder, burying deep in his flesh.

Uther cried out in shock, staggering forward as the bolt slammed into him. A quick glance back showed there were no enemies coming from behind—but those to the south were rousing. He healed himself and stepped into the doorway to stop their advance.

“You cannot stop us! Zalryr will triumph!” a cultist cried, firing a crossbow that thudded into Uther. He reeled back again, surprised at being hit. He was well armoured and had his new shield, but it was like he was a pin-cushion. Despite being hit hard twice, he found he wasn’t as badly injured as he should be. Another cultist joined the fray from the south, swinging and missing.

Eli, still confused, shook his sword meaningfully in the face of the shocked cultist. “Put your hands in the air. You are under the custody of the Watch!”

“Custody? We surrendered and you attacked us!” His companion writhed under the assault of Eli’s slug.

“Put your hands in the air! You are under the custody of the Watch!” Eli repeated sternly.

“I will not!” the cultist cried, reading the room. He thrust his sword up but Eli dodged it with ease. The second cultist followed his lead, rolling off the bed and jamming a rusty scimitar into Flukespan.

“I said you’re under the custody of the Watch!!” Eli screamed, driving his sword into the cultist and killing him. “And you too!” he yelled, leaping over to the second half-orc and crashing his fists into him, killing his second prisoner in as many seconds. With an incoherent guttural cry he charged across the room toward the new arrivals.

Idris stepped calmly forward into the chaos. Three dead. Four more approaching. With a nod he summoned a pyre of flame on Uther’s closest combatant, sending her screaming to her death. “You’re under arr–” Eli cried as she was engulfed.

Brother Cooper followed Idris into the room, also surveying the carnage. He approved of the work his team had carried out, but it was not over yet. He turned to the remaining cultists: “Put down your weapons in the name of Lathander!” he boomed, confident the stirring words would strike equal measures of fear in the enemy and courage in his companions.

The cultists were unswayed. Another cultist shot true at Eli, Uther luckily out of line of sight. Eli prepared himself to slap the bolt aside, but before he could act the missile unerringly redirected and buried into Uther’s chest. Uther gasped. What was happening?! Idris’s mind raced as he tried to work out the answer to that question. Uther healed himself again just as a third bolt flew across the room and again diverted toward him, but luckily for all it missed.

Flukespan emerged from the shadows and ran through the combat into the far room. He swiped his miniature rapier toward into a cultist as he sprinted, missing. A cultist spun to face him and fired a bolt that crashed into the wall instead.

Jondo skirted around the room, wanting to fire his crossbow but terrified of hitting Uther. He couldn’t step into the battle as he was still badly wounded. He cursed and waited for his companions to finish this, joining Uther in the backlines.

“Put down your weapons!” Eli screamed as he ran forward. “You are in the custody of the Watch!” He inadvertently slid his sword into a cultist before they could answer, then swung wide as he tried to punch another in the face. “And you too! You’re all under arrest!!” He was surprised when the same cultist was thrown backwards by an unseen force, so he punched again, hitting satisfyingly.

A moment later the sword-struck cultist burst into flames in front of him.

“Take my secrets!” he cried as he burnt. Eli listened hard for said secrets, but all he could hear was screaming.

The mention of secrets caused Idris to realise what was afflicting Uther. “You need to get rid of that shield!” he called to Uther. “That’s what’s drawing the arrows to you.”

Uther didn’t hesitate, hurling the shield to the floor—with a slight pang of regret: it was a nice shield.

Surprising everyone, Brother Cooper finally took some action. “Here is the light of Lathander!” he cried, moving into a strategic position that allowed him to engulf the two remaining cultists in a cone of cleansing fire. “You are cleansed!” he cried with satisfaction.

As the final combatants died in the flames, Eli turned to stare accusingly at Brother Cooper. “Who are we going to question?” he glared.

Brother Cooper looked smug. “Well. I think the answers will be provided ahead. Brother Eli.” Who was this so called Brother to be questioning him. Who was the real Brother?, he thought to himself.

---

Flukespan wasted no time moving to the next corridor, a rough-hewn passage twisting south-east. He could hear dark whispers echoing up the stonework. “Whispers,” he whispered. He cast another illusion of himself, then crept down the corridor, his illusion doing the same. Everyone knew what this meant this time.

As he drew closer to the end of the corridor the whispers grew cacophonous. An expansive cave lay ahead, glowing with green light. He hid, then stepped into the room.

Carved into the floor of the cavern was a runic circle pulsing with sickly green light. Two cultists—one human, one elf—stood inside the circle, heads thrown back and mouths agape. An imposing human cultist in a sweeping black robe stood against the north wall, chanting. His oily hair was slicked back, his skin gaunt and grey.

Flukespan froze when the figure turned his gaze directly toward him, despite being ‘hidden’. The cult leader’s lips curled into a smile of triumph. He turned back to the cultists and lifted his hands “Now! Release your secrets unto me! Let the truths hidden in your soul come forth and become stronger!!”

Everyone else sprinted down the corridor as they heard the ritual cries. As the entered the room, the mesmerised cultists in the arcane symbol cried in spiritual ecstasy as their silhouettes warped into two lanky shadowy entities. The necromancer cackled with delight. “No…more…oozes!”

Jondo wasn’t afraid to shoot now Uther had lost his cursed shield. He trained his weapon on one of the shadows, then thought better of it: kill the host and the shadow may also fall. He fired and the bolt sunk into the chest of the nearest cultist, finishing him—but unfortunately not dissolving the shadow. Jondo glanced at Uther and nodded, relieved.

Flukespan fired his crossbow into the overconfident boss, drawing a gasp of pain as it sunk into his thigh. He looked up, furious, and raised his fist. A spiritual echo of the same appeared by Eli’s side, trying to strike him. Eli bent like a reed in the wind and avoided the blow. The leader cursed and pointed his other hand at Brother Cooper, and a radiant beam of black-green light shot down at him. “Lathander is here!” Brother Cooper scoffed, avoiding the unholy beam with ease.

He didn’t avoid the approaching shadow who reached it’s ethereal hands and throttled him, suctioning life energy and strength from him. He staggered slightly, feeling his armour of faith being assaulted by another.

Idris stepped forward and stared hard at the necromancer. There was a subtle distortion of the air in front of Idris’s head, and the cultist grabbed his head in sudden pain. “Get ready,” Idris muttered to his companions. The space before the necromancer twisted into a spiral vortex, and the leader vanished, reappearing a moment later directly in the middle of everyone. His eyes widened in surprise and realisation: he was about to die.

“You’re under arrest!” Eli cried.

After several swift blows from Eli and Uther he was indeed very dead. “The secrets die with me!” the necromancer cried as he fell under the hail.

Brother Cooper bathed his shadow with a cleansing fire as the remaining cultist knelt and fired a bolt at Eli…and it redirected to Uther?! He was very unprepared for this, glancing with surprise at Idris as he staggered. Jondo was almost as surprised, dropping his crossbow as he was about to fire it. He wasn’t at all sure he could kill a shadow with something as simple as a sword but it was worth a try. He ran ahead and sliced through the misty form, noting the shape shimmering as he did. Flukespan snuck forward and backstabbed the same shadow, killing it.

Only one cultist and the shadow remained. Idris magicked three missiles into the elf, felling her. He spun to the shadow and forced it backwards, allowing Uther, Eli and Brother Cooper to all swing opportunistically. The shadow dissipated under the flurry of swordwork.

As the last cultist fell, the runic circle suddenly hissed and flashed with lurid light. As if being extinguished, the glow of the runes dimmed as shadowy smoke rose from the carvings. The smoke gathered in the centre of the chamber, where it coalesced into an apparition of an emaciated skull with one glowing green eye.

A wave of dread froze everyone in place as the apparition swivelled to look at each in turn, then spoke in a hissing baritone. “Yessss…there is great potential here…I have my eye on you!” The skull exploded into streaks of shadow, passing through everyone with a whispered scream before vanishing.

“Oh, that is not good,” Idris muttered.

---

After cleaning up, Flukespan led everyone back to the library.

The books on the shelves were a mixture of dark lore and experimental magics. The table was scattered with papers, and Idris and Uther pieced together a picture of what had been going on in the catacombs. The cult leader, Zalryr, had been experimenting with ways to magically siphon secrets from an individual’s soul. Early experiments reduced volunteers to piles of necrotic sludge, which were disposed of in the sewerage. “We know what your burbling masses were, Eli,” Idris explained.

“And there are other cults scattered through Neverwinter,” Uther added.

“Something to take to our superior officers,” Eli nodded. No arrests, but good evidence, he figured. And no-one would know what had happened down here. Would they?

Jondo found a lockbox on a shelf, tossing it to Flukespan who started to work on the lock before Idris floated a key over. “I found this on ‘Zalryr’,” he grinned. Flukespan nodded and used the key, thankful when he saw a trap that would otherwise have fired. Inside the box were two milky-red potions. Jondo looking longingly toward them, hoping they might be healing potions given no-one else seemed inclined to assist.

Flukespan moved to study the shelves of books, joining Brother Cooper. An older, worn, leather-bound tome caught both of their eyes simultaneously: The Vivisector’s Dilemma

Flukespan reached toward it, but Brother Cooper lent over Flukespan’s head and grabbed the book instead. As he studied the tome he realised with disgust that the cover was flayed flesh. He dropped it instantly, allowing Flukespan to deftly catch it.

“Yuck,” Flukespan muttered as he cracked it open. The text within documented vivisection in excruciating detail, with horrific accompanying diagrams and vivid illustrations. Brother Cooper couldn’t help but glance down. “No Flukey!” he cried, covering his eyes. He used the strength of Lathander to banish what he had seen from his mind, but it was too late for Flukespan who threw up all over his boots.

He recovered himself quickly, wiping his mouth clean. He smiled ruefully and slipped it into his satchel. “This is the book about…medicine…that I’ve been asked to recover.”

“Medicine?” Brother Cooper said sceptically.

“Asked to recover?” Jondo said softly. “Did you know about all this?”

“I knew about the book. It’s been missing.”

“Missing from where?” Eli frowned.

“From another city,” Flukespan said quietly.

“Don’t get defensive,” Jondo warned.

“I’m not getting defensive! I’ve been looking for a book and apparently this is it.”

“What do you mean you’ve been looking? For who??” Brother Cooper scowled, joining the interrogation.

“For someone in another city,” he shrugged.

“What? We’re serving the Watch!”

“You’re an agent of another power?” Eli accused, “As opposed to working for the Watch?”

Flukespan looked around, realising he was digging himself into a hole. “I’m not an agent for anything!” he stammered. “It’s just a book about vivisection!”

“I can see what it is,” Eli said, “It belongs in a museum.”

“I know!”

“It doesn’t belong in the hands of another cult,” Jondo said suspiciously.

“Which cult do you work for?” Eli added.

“Flukey. Who were you go give this book to?” Cooper said, piling on the pressure.

Idris had remained quiet, and he could see that whilst Flukespan was believed what he was saying, it was white lies at best, avoiding answering any direct questions. He looked the tiny gnome in the eye. “This is supposed to be returned to someone who’s employ you are in?”

“Yeah,” Flukespan said cautiously.

“Who?” Eli demanded, feeling like a real investigator.

“You can meet him if you like?”

“Who?!”

Flukespan scratched his head. He looked around again and sighed, understanding the game was up. “All right. It’s a man. A man called Mister Revile. Mister Marko Revile.”

Eyebrows shot up in shock. Mister Marko? From…Stormwatch?!

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Sessions played: May 27, June 10, 24 2024

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