Vecna: Eve of Ruin
Neverwinter Knights
The man is not right in the headChapters
Castle Never: “The man is not right in the head”
Neverdeath Graveyard: “We always used pigs”
Castle Never
Stepping out of the portal and back to Neverwinter was a bit of a shock. From the luxury of Sigil to the dirty streets of the city. To those that made their home here it was at least a familiar dirt. Eli knelt and ran a handful of grit through his hands, grounding himself in a finally understandable reality. Idris did the same, scanning the streets to assure himself this was Neverwinter, not some Vecna-cursed alternate.
Looming overhead was Castle Never, where Lord Neverember held court and resided. Marko was alert to the presence of two guards who were surprisingly unsurprised by the surprise appearance of six adventurers. “Here to see the Lord Protector, we believe?” one asked, walking over. “Sent from Sigil?”
“Yes,” Marko nodded warily.
“Huh. You see something new every day in this job. Follow me.”
Sifer made a point of observing his companions' manner, seeing if they were feeling or acting more important having been given this task—or indeed more sketchy. Eli was slightly agog at being inside the castle, but that was Eli for you. And Idris was anything but agog—if anything it seemed like he had been here before. By his estimation everyone seemed very ‘on-task’ which was pleasing. A company that can go through the eye of the needle and come out steady was a company he was prone to trust. Other than Three.
The two guards led the company through the gates to a modest villa on the castle grounds. Inside the villa stood the Lord Protector of Neverwinter, Dagult Neverember.
To Uther’s eye Neverember looked older and more worn than he had expected, and less noble. Running a major city like this took it’s toll, it would seem. Standing around the room were a collection of robed religious figures, more wizened again, and a relaxed honour guard led by a familiar figure: Kevori Fearnehart, the death of whose cousin had started all this Vecna trouble. She nodded respectfully at her old colleagues, or those she recognised—Three having pulled his hood down close to obscure his face once he saw her.
Marko stepped forward and bowed to Lord Neverember (causing Eli to quickly follow suit).
“Thank you, sir, and welcome. Mordenkainen told us to expect you and not a moment later, here you are. Please, sit, take a refreshment and we will get to the business at hand.” Servants appeared from the shadows to pull chairs and serve drinks and delicious snacks (for everyone suddenly realised they were famished).
“Some of you will know me already,” Neverember began, nodding to Idris who inclined his head with a smile. He also glanced quickly at Marko, almost shyly. “For way of introduction for those that don’t know me, I am Dagult Neverember, Lord Protector of this great city. Several days ago I requested assistance from my more powerful friends in Sigil for a small problem we find ourselves having, and here you are!” he smiled widely. “Including you, Idris, to my surprise. Good to see you—I still owe you for that game of three-dragon ante don’t I?”
“Not a discussion for now,” Idris smiled. Neverember owed him a fortune, but it was worth more to have the Lord Protector in his debt than to call it in.
“Of course, of course. I trust Elsabah is as charming as ever,” Neverember said, flushing slightly.
“She is indeed,” Idris said with a forced smile. “Busy as always,” you letch, he did not add.
Neverember’s eye landed briefly on Three (Sifer thought he saw a hint of recognition there) before shifting away just as quickly. He turned to Marko, eyes shining. “Mr Marko, of course, it is a singular honour!” The rest of the company realised that the all powerful Lord Protector was in fact a fan-boy of the Stormwatch veteran, almost simpering in his delight to be in Marko’s company. “I do not presume that you would remember me, but I was a member of the Waterdeep Council during your triumphs?”
“I certainly do remember, my Lord,” Marko assured kindly. “And I appreciate you hosting us at such short notice. Thank you, sir.”
Neverember almost blushed. “I was alway a strong supporter of your campaign, and your companions, of course!”
Casting his mind back, Marko wasn’t so sure this was true, but he let it pass. “Yes, sir.
“Then why aren’t they here?” Three muttered.
“They are off doing other things,” Marko said mildly.
“More important than Vecna?” Three said, watching Neverember carefully to see if he reacted—there was no sign he did, but he was clearly still enraptured by Marko and had maybe missed the reference. Kevori, on the other hand, immediately perked up.
“There are many more important things throughout this world that are happening,” Marko scowled. “I cannot say more.”
Idris shot a death stare Three’s way, trying to get him to shut up unaware of Three’s intent, and reinforced it by trying to insert an message into his head. Idris frowned when he found he could not—Three had some way of blocking his thoughts.
Marko turned back to Neverember. “My Lord, these men are suited to the task ahead of us. They have had some experience with the threat that we face, and they are the right people for this job.”
“Very good, Mr Marko—not that I have explained our exact circumstance,” he smiled, some of his regal confidence returning. “‘Ready for anything’ is what you are saying—no surprise coming from a Stormwatcher,” he grinned, all regality lost again.
Marko was used to this and was doing his best to get things back on track. “Yes, sir. So—can you impart the information that we need?”
“Of course, yes, down to business. There is something unsavoury happening in Neverwinter,” the Lord Protector explained, leaning in. “Prominent members of the nobility are disappearing, vanishing without a trace. I would normally pass this off as a nocturnal mishap, but it’s happening too frequently. We can’t have our gentry spontaneously vanishing, as you would understand—who would the lesser folk look up to?”
Eli looked shocked, it was unclear whether at the mystery disappearances or at the common-people insult.
“These last several days four more have been taken,” Neverember continued. “As you can imagine this has caused something of a crisis amongst the upper echelons of society. Some have even questioned my authority. Hence my call for help. I can give you the names of those taken, and what I would ask is that you find out what has happened to them and, if at all possible, bring them back safely.”
“Um, Sir…Lord…” Eli said, glancing around for guidance that wasn’t forthcoming, so he pressed on. “Your honourship: from where were they taken?”
“Why from their very houses, from the safety of their mansions, and some were apparently even taken on the streets. An outrage, you will agree.”
“And there were no witnesses?”
“Only to the fact that they had vanished.”
“So none came to take them, they just…vanished?”
“That is all we know.”
“So ‘taken’ probably isn’t the right word, is it,” Eli concluded. “They might have left of their own accord.”
“As if captured in a portal?” Sifer suggested.
“Perhaps?” Neverember said, looking doubtful. “It seems a bit far fetched if you ask me—but you are the experts.”
“Who were they?” Three asked bluntly.
“There were four, as I said. ‘Eldon Keyward’, a highly knowledgeable scholar who specializes in the Outer Planes. and dear Indrina Lamsensettle—some of you may know her? A wonderful actress, moves in Neverwinter’s highest social circles, and quite the beauty.” Neverember looked again to Idris: “If I can’t have Elsabah, Indrina is a fine substitute. Joking, joking!” he flushed deeply as Idris did his best to remain poker-faced. Eli blushed instead as he pieced together the sordid implications. Marko scrawled the names in his notebook as Neverember continued.
“The other two are Sarcelle Malinosh, some variety of sorcerer who plumbs mysteries I would rather know nothing about, and one of your folk,” Neverember said glancing patronisingly at Marko. “A wee gnome who goes by Flukespan Timbers. Female, I think?”
“Flukey!” Three exclaimed involuntarily.
Marko sat bolt upright at this, and became very still. “I see, I see. That is…concerning.” Flukespan was one of his inner circle, and had been responsible for establishing the Wee Folk in Neverwinter. For him—him, not her—to be taken was a problem both professionally and personally.
Eli stared at Marko with eyes wide. Flukespan was in danger! “We must act!” he blurted.
“We will,” Marko nodded grimly.
“There is more,” Neverwinter said, clearly enjoying the drama his words had stirred. “At great personal cost, for I would not drain the city coffers to defend my name, I have funded divination from Oghma’s House of Knowledge, and my priests,” he said waving a vague hand at the robed figures, “My priests have traced the mystical trail of the victims to a singular location: Hallix Mausoleum in Neverdeath Graveyard!”
“Oft the place where the dead will go,” Eli nodded solemnly.
“You think they are dead?”
“Oh, no—they’re not dead,” Three said ominously.
A robed priest stepped forward. “We are unable to see deeper into the mausoleum, which concerns us greatly. An unknown—and powerful—opponent must be blocking our divinations.”
“You have not ventured inside?” Eli asked.
“Well we are priests, we do not take physical investigation under our remit,” the figure said smugly.
“Where I come from priests are often to be found in the graveyard,” Eli said.
“Not these priests,” the hood repeated.
“Did you send any solders inside instead?” Three asked Neverember.
“We have the mausoleum guarded, but we are concerned that the power that stops the divinations findings would make short work of mere soldiers—no offence,” he smiled to Kevori. “We think we need greater skills,” he said nodding to the company.
“Sacrificial skills,” Three grunted with a wry smile.
“Brother Cooper!” Eli scolded.
Marko hushed the discussion. “Is there a history of the mausoleum we can study?”
Kevori nodded. “We can certainly give you information about the Hallix family. What we have found is they are—or were—a respected family. Their tomb is not in the Pauper’s yard, it is in the Noble quarter. They are beyond reproach as far as we are concerned.”
“The Hallix mausoleum is very nice,” Three said, to everyone’s surprise. “As mausoleums go, it’s a real good one.”
“Ok?” Marko said, not sure how Three would know this. “Well, we should—”
“Let’s just go take a look, Mr Marko!” Three interrupted, standing, joined by Sifer.
“I agree, let us make haste,” Marko said.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Eli protested. “Our host has provided us with a meal, it would be wrong of us not to partake?”
“No, no, he does not care,” Three said contemptuously. “We’ve got to go to the mausoleum and die.”
Eli looked confusedly to Idris. “Is that how it is?”
Idris hadn’t moved an inch, not close to standing up.
“I think I might have misread the situation,” Three muttered under his breath with a chuckle.
Idris glared, struggling to understand Three’s personality transplant. He gritted his teeth and hissed. “Are you quite well, Three?”
“Thank you for asking,” Three said, now guffawing loudly, “I feel great. We should all be dead and we’re not!”
Eli nodded solemnly. “Brother Cooper, then let us give thanks.” He looked around the company. “Let us all give thanks! That we live this day, and that we are still here to be of service to our Lord, and that he has presented us with this meal.” Eli bowed his head.
“Yes!” Three encouraged as Neverember started to raise his glass, “Let us pray to the God of Death, Kelemvor.” Neverember stopped abruptly as Three started chanting his god’s name softly.
“Brother Cooper, would you like to pray with me?” Eli said kindly.
“I would,” Three said.
Eli reached his hands over the table and started a generic prayer. “I give thanks that we live this day, and that we are here and whole, and we pray that our souls may be repaired of the trauma that they have encountered.”
Three gripped Eli’s hand tight. “Kelemvor will save us both,” he declared with impassioned certainty.
Eli smiled weakly, confused, but pleased Eli was holding on so tight. Perhaps too tight. A death grip? Sweat dripped down Three’s face as he stared intently into Eli’s. Eli attempted to continue with his rather more vanilla prayer. “Um. And may we see further days, and may the healing continue…”
“Yes! Yes brother!!” Three exclaimed with holy fervour.
“And may our quest be a quest not only for the healing of the world—”
“And for us, and for us, brother!”
“…And for us. And our love ones,” Eli said quietly as Three finally released his grip and slumped into his chair.
“You’re a good man, Eli,” Three said through his exhaustion.
“I only wish that were true,” Eli sighed.
“It is. I can see right through you, I see everything, brother. It is true.”
Idris shook his head, raising his glass to Neverember and draining it. Eli started tucking into the food, and soon Three too was shoving meats into his torn mouth. “Good grub,” he said to Idris as juices rolled down his chin.
Idris turned to Uther. “What do we think has happened to Three? Where is the Brother Cooper we once knew?”
“The man is not right in the head,” Uther shrugged.
Sifer reached a hand to Uther’s shoulder as he joined the meal. “But he is one of us. And who better to save the world than this crazy bunch!”
As the meal concluded, a priest stepped by Three’s side. “Lord Neverember would like a word,” he whispered. Three nodded and walked to the reach of the chamber where Neverember stood with his guard.
“He’s clearly getting the help he needs,” Eli said, comforted by the presence of the priest.
Sifer watched the interaction closely, noting that Neverember never met Three’s eye, and that the conversation was very brief. Three nodded once and walked away, his face as unreadable as ever. “Neverember’s asking for his autograph,” Sifer joked to Uther.
“I find these meals tiresome. We should get on with this,” Uther grunted.
“My father always told me,” Eli intoned, “When you are presented with food, eat, for you know now when you will be able to eat again.”
“Wise,” Uther said, “But it’s time to leave.”
Neverdeath Graveyard
The city guard escorted the company Neverdeath Graveyard, the enormous burial ground and cemetery of Neverwinter. Neverdeath was named for a common blessing given over the dead: as long as the city remained in summer, it was believed that the dead would not turn into undead. Despite this the graveyard was often heaving with undead—skeletons, zombies, visitors kept safe by an eternal guard provided by the Eternal Order of Kelemvor, under who’s care Neverdeath lay.
A thick blackstone wall pierced by stark black gates surrounded the graveyard, splitting the Main Graveyard and the Pauper’s Field. The guards led the company directly to the Hallix mausoleum in the main yard. Three acknowledged several Kelemvorites who patrolled the grounds, and under questioning acknowledged that for the last while this had been his employ. “Not killing undead,” Three explained, “But preparing bodies, leading funeral rites—for pauper’s, mainly.”
“Your priests should dig deeper,” Sifer said as he watched a rattling skeleton being clubbed into submission.
“You’ve been here?” Idris asked, “Since when?”
“Since after ‘this’,” Three said, indicating his ruined face.
“And how long ago was that?”
“Five years.”
“Right. Big city I guess…” Idris was surprised to not have encountered Three in that time, given their shared past.
“People don’t see me. I was here,” Three said, pointing to the pauper’s graves. I wasn’t at banquets, or whever you go.”
Idris laughed. “I get the idea.”
Three shrugged. He stepped in front of the guard to lead unerringly to the Hallix mausoleum, which lay near the dividing wall between the two graveyards.
The mausoleum was a squat, unassuming, granite building, standing in the shadow of larger structures nearby. “I was expecting something bigger,” Marko said.
“The dead don’t need a reception room,” Sifer smirked.
“I assume there are catacombs, yes?” Idris asked.
“Ohhh yes,” Three said grimly. “Let’s hope they are the actual catacombs. For there are other things that live under here.”
“Have you been within this sanctuary?” Eli asked.
“I’ve been in all of them,” Three nodded, “Because dead go everywhere.”
Eli bowed his head. “Once again I stand shamefaced before you, Brother Cooper. You have done a thankless task for a city that thanks you not, I assume. And I am humbled in your presence.” When he lifted his head he was surprised to see Three was obviously upset, despite pulling up his hood to hide it.
Sifer walked to the metal double-doors of the tomb. A rusty chain secured the doors, but Sifer could see the padlock holding it loosely together was unlocked. “Was this broken into, or out of, or is it simply unlocked?” he asked Marko.
“Unlocked with a key,” Marko quickly deduced, “In the last months.”
Three was a little shocked. The graveyard was huge, but this kind of intrusion would normally get picked up. Which meant one of two things: someone was on the take to hide it, or whoever was using it was working from the inside.
Marko shoved the doors open, surprised they opened without a squeak given their condition. “Someone has oiled these so they can be opened any time, night or day, without attracting attention.”
“Mister Marko—can I go first?” Three asked.
“Ahhh…if you wish?” Marko said doubtfully, but Three immediately walked inside.
Inside were six upright stone coffins, each bearing the name and dates of a Hallix family member. Most had died approximately forty years past, around the time the eruption of Mount Hotenow. A set of stone stairs led down at the far end of the room.
“Undefiled,” Eli said with relief as he looked around. Sifer walked softly to a tomb and found himself less sure—where he expected the top to be sealed, it clearly wasn’t. “Idris,” he hissed.
Idris nodded as he slipped on a pair of incongruously dark glasses. He stepped to another tomb and found the same: obviously tampered with. “These coffins have all been unsealed,” he said to Marko, as Eli paled.
“Tampered from the outside,” Sifer emphasised.
Marko concurred. “And this room is well-used,” he said, pointing out the footprints that led down the middle of the room to the stairs.
Eli’s eyes followed the trail to the stairs and he paled. He tapped Uthar on the shoulder and pointed at the flickering apparitions that lay below. “There are things down there,” he hissed. Uthar nodded as he slowly drew his weapon.
Everyone followed suit: there was something down there in the darkness, fading in and out of sight. They weren’t reacting at all. Three had donned a pair of goggles, all the better to see with, the lens covering his dead eye empty. “Do you want me to go down there where there is probably undead,” he said with surprisingly little concern, “Or look at these coffins?”
“We should check these first,” Idris said.
Three nodded and went to work. His familiarity with gravework made it easy to determine what had happened here: each coffin had been pried open and left unsealed. “You’re right Sifer. Opened, no doubt looted, and left unsealed—though closed, so a casual check would not notice.” He eased the top off one coffin, shifting it slightly. He panicked as realised the weight was too much, when he felt it lift. He glanced at Idris who was holding his hand aloft, and nodded thanks.
The coffin was empty—no skeleton or remains, just chips of bones and scraps of cloth. “The body has been taken for consumption—likely by a ghoul. They’re probably all empty.”
Sifer opened his coffin and confirmed as much, as were the others when they were quickly checked.
“What are the odds that the former occupants of these coffins are ambulant now?” Idris asked.
“Pretty good…they’ve either been eaten, or they’ve been raised and are walking around down there.”
Idris turned to Uthar. “Red—we have to assume there’s at least six former residents somewhere in here. Unless they’ve walked outside.”
“Would you let me go ahead,” Eli asked Marko. He was keen to make a telling contribution, feeling he was falling behind Brother Cooper’s example.
“Yes, if you wish,” Marko nodded.
“Do you want me to come with you, Eli?” Three asked.
“Brother Cooper it would be my honour,” Eli said truthfully, if wistfully.
Eli took a step down. The ethereal forms downstairs reacted immediately, a ghostly warrior striding forth wearing nasty looking armour, still flickering in and out of visibility. “Incoming!” Eli cried as several more catacomb haunts appeared behind the first.
Three quickly decided these were not the risen Hallix, the armour and weaponry being all wrong. “It’s not the coffin-dwellers!”
The company swung into action, weapons, spells, and curses flying free. “I am not afraid!” Eli cried as a ghostly weapon lunged at him. Idris covered the battlefield in writing black tentacles, allowing free reign for Marko’s sneak attacks and the melee fighter’s hefting blows. Eli took a particularly brutal hit, necrotic agony ripping his flesh, but he was just thankful it was him taking the punishment and not his companions. The battle was short, despite the ferocity of the ghostly foes, and soon all three were dead. Eli looked slightly disappointed, like he was waiting for Hell to take him but it didn’t.
The now quiet subterranean chamber had more stone coffins sitting on sturdy shelves around the room. Part of the west wall had collapsed, creating an opening into another chamber. Three checked one of the (open) coffins, finding several wool cloaks and wide hats.
“Mister Marko, this is where people would disguise themselves, put a costume on so they could come and go unnoticed,” Three said, lifting the simple clothing. “Very similar to what I would wear when tending the graves.”
Marko called for silence and pointed to the shattered wall. “I hear dripping water,” he said as he stepped cautiously through into the large chamber beyond. Roots protruded through cracks in the ceiling, the southeast corner having completely collapsed under the intrusion. There were three doors in the north wall, the middle door bearing a new padlock. To the west, stairs led to a small balcony that overlooked the room from five feet above. The sound of water was clearer here, emerging from an opening in the southern wall.
Marko immediately went to work on the first of the doors, finding it unlocked and untrapped. He popped it open to reveal a small ten-foot square room with a metal grate in the centre of the room. Something glowed with golden light from below the grate. “Is there anyone there?” he whispered, suspecting a subterraneous prison. When there was no response (other than from Three outside who replied in the affirmative), he stepped to the edge of the grate, finding a shallow pit below. On the foot of the pit was a small gold harp, a handful of loose papers, and a piece of bloody cloth.
The grate grid was five inches wide. “I’ll just grab it,” Marko offered as he started to reach.
“Or you could get Idris,” Sifer suggested strongly, holding Marko back. Idris obliged, carefully lifting the harp free without setting off any traps. Marko took it gingerly, eyes widening when he realised it’s value. “2000 gold, at least,” he murmured. “But I’m more interested in the papers.”
“Those Stormwatch guys are made of money,” Sifer smirked.
Idris retrieved the papers and cloth. The blood on the cloth was not fresh, and as Marko gussed the papers were of more interest. The papers detailed plans to kidnap a Neverwinter aristocrat named Indrina Lamsensettle. The notes included a map of her estate, schedules of her movements, and suggestions that she knows an important secret about Lord Neverember. A scrawl in the margin of the note claimed that “her secrets will make a worthy sacrifice.”
“Was ‘Lamsensettle’ one of the names the Lord Protector mentioned?” Eli said, wracking his memory.
“Yes,” Marko confirmed, “A ‘wonderful actress’. And remember Alustriel described ‘secrets’ being used by…” he trailed off knowingly.
“Let’s move people,” Sifer said, finding the reminder of Vecna troubling. He glanced to the opening in the south, seeing large rusted pipes running along the walls and ceiling, dripping water into a pool below. He shuddered as he remembered all of what happened last time he hung around with Brother Cooper in a watery trap.
Marko tried the lock on the next door, unlocking it with ease despite it’s difficulty. An old crypt held a single open coffin containing a few tattered blankets. A pouf of wild black hair sprouted from the end of one of the blankets.
“Do you want me to…?” Idris asked to a nod. He sent the mage hand to pull the blanked away, expecting the worst.
Instead a woman sat bolt upright with a start, waking from a deep slumber.
“Sarcelle?” Marko guessed wildly.
“How did you know that is me?” the woman exclaimed.
“What are you doing in a coffin?” Eli said incredulously.
“Do I know you? Are you here to rescue me?”
“We’ve been sent here, and yes we are,” Sifer said.
“Thank the gods—get me out of here!” Sarcelle demanded. Despite the imbalance of power it was obvious she was one of the nobility.
“Relax, everything is under control.”
“It’s not under control! I’ve been locked in this—they are going to sacrifice me!”
“Not any more,” Sifer said.
“What do you mean? Are you here to sacrifice me?” Sarcelle said, suddenly scared.
“No,” Idris sighed, already tired of her.
Sarcelle frowned. “How do I know that? Why are you mocking me?”
Sifer spoke patiently, as someone who had been in a lot of situations with dumb civilians, deescalating the situation brick by brick, until Sarcelle was somewhat mollified. “You’re safe with us now.” Eli finally dropped his bow’s aim on her.
The tension slowly left Sarcelle’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she said softly, choking down a sob. “I had a vision that I was to die.”
“You were, but we’re here now. Follow me, I will lead you to the city guards who will take you back home,” Sifer said firmly and he led her forth. “How many of you are still alive?” he asked.
“There were others? I have no idea. I had terrible visions which might explain it. I fear for them.”
“Tell me about the visions.”
“I saw a desiccated man,” she recited, almost like she was entering a trance, “Levitating off the ground. A holy figure, gathering evil energy about his dark form in glowing wisps—”
“Enough,” Sifer said, covering her mouth. “We know who that is, it’s is enough.” He led Sarcelle to the guards, doing a quick hand off to the astonished guards (“you found a living one?!") before returning to the company. As he walked he felt the power of the secret Sarcelle had spoken swirling inside him, and he realised he now held that power—he was not sure why, or for what reason, but it was his.
The third room was lined with stone shelves containing boxes and bags, with a few crates are stacked against the wall. A quick search revealed nothing of particular use—lantern oil, chains, manacles and the like—other than two potions labelled ‘Healing Use Only’, and a third that looked empty but had something swirling inside on closer inspection.
Marko scrambled up the stairs to the door and listened, again hearing nothing. He eased the door open. The enclosed corridor beyond was encased in the same blackstone that formed the walls of the graveyard outside, and Marko realised the corridor must be an underground crossroads between the different parts of the graveyard. He looked up to see four bells of different sizes hanging from leather cords affixed to the ceiling and groaned—a puzzle. A door stood closed on the opposite side of the corridor.
He turned back and described the scene, everyone agreeing that avoiding the bells was paramount for now.
Eli led the way into the watery room to the south. In the centre of the room was a deep stone basin set into the floor and filled to the brim, fed by water dripping from the pipes above. As Eli looked, the surface of the water rippled, revealing several watery creatures below the surface. Four doors led off the room.
Three was momentarily baffled—what was this reservoir doing under the graveyard?—before he suddenly realised what he was looking at. “The Water Clock Guild—it was real!” he muttered with awe. He turned to the company. “I know exactly what this is,” he said with uncharacteristic excitement. “A long time ago—over a century if not more—there was an organisation called the Water Clock Guild. An organisations of artisans and geomancers who would build much prized Water Clocks, prized throughout the realm. Hotenow’s eruption destroyed the guild, but this must be where they used to practice.”
Idris wondered if Marko’s four bells were related. “Does that mean you know what the bells are?” Idris asked Three.
“Well I would guess the bells were once part of the Water Clock system, but no longer,” Three said. “But I do think they might be a warning system. You know like in the olden days they would have geese that would squark to warn of attack? I bet the bells do the same.”
“We always used pigs,” Eli said, delighted with this insight. “We used to keep the sty near the gates.” He pointed to the figures in the water which were a more pressing concern. There were three shapes, one significantly larger. “These are like the things we fought all those years ago,” Eli said.
“Perhaps then we should just leave them be,” Idris suggested.
“I don’t think we should interfere with them,” Marko agreed. “Let’s check the doors.”
Marko opened the first door on the east wall which had an overhead pipe leading into it. More pipes along the southern wall of the room beyond disappeared into the walls near the ceiling at either end. A complicated series of cogs and hand-turned wheels connected to the pipes, but there were no gauges. Despite the temptation of the cogs, Marko moved quickly to the only door, opening it once safe. Another smaller alcove had rusty standpipes and interlocking cogs covering the walls, but these cogs seemed rusted in place.
“This all looks very mysterious to me,” Eli said looking around. “Is this normal for cities? Knobs, wheels, is that a thing?”
“It would normally be the province of gnomes and such,” Idris offered.
“This sort of technology is magic and evil,” Sifer affirmed.
“No—it’s just pipe-works,” Idris scoffed.
“It’s not magic,” Three agreed, “It’s what geomancers do—they use the pressure.”
“To what end?” Eli exclaimed.
“Water for drinking,” Three shrugged.
“In a graveyard?”
“No, this is odd, as I explained. This was not part of the graveyard, this was a hundred years ago…”
Sifer frowned as the discussion got louder and louder, turning to Idris. “Tell them to shut up,” he said, eyes warning as he stood near the pool-room door.
Idris passed the message one, and everyone followed Marko back to the next door. From beyond he heard a soft tapping of metal on metal. The door wasn’t locked so he pushed it open.
Rubble choked the far corner of the room, some of which had been reassembled into a low table, upon which stood a collection of small clockwork components. Sitting at the table was a hulking, fish-headed creature wearing exquisite silk finery, carefully examining the tiny parts.
Marko, more experienced than his companions with the strangeness of the multiverse, showed no surprise. “Good morning…sir?”
The creature finished its careful work, then turned to face Marko and nodded. “Mrgle mglrmglmglmgl.”
To Marko’s blank face, it sighed, then repeated in broken watery Common: “Correct, it is a good morning and we are blessed.”
Marko beamed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, and I see you are working very meticulously on some sort of mechanism, but have you seen a young gnome down here somewhere?”
“Are you from the cult?” the creature rumbled.
“No sir! I’m missing a friend of mine and I believe he’s down here.”
“Are you here then to kill me?” the creature asked, unconcerned.
“N…no? Are…are you a member of the cult?”
“Of course I am not. My name is Shanzezim, I am a clockmaker, and I am making a clock,” it said waving a clawed hand at the table.
“Oh! Are you part of the Guild? My friend was just talking about it with great respect.”
“Why yes I am!” the creature said with evident pride which was quickly replaced with sorrow. “Though I suspect I am the last.”
“That is a great shame,” Marko said compassionately. “Do you make many clocks?”
“I have been working on this one for quite some time. I am trying to reassemble it.”
“Who for?” Eli interjected.
Shanzezim glanced over at Eli. “Why for the multiverse. For the betterment of all.” He paused then looked slightly crestfallen. “In the end it is for no-one, and for myself. No-one else would appreciate it.”
“I would—I am quite astounded,” Marko assured to a soft rubbery smile. “Did you make the pool here?”
“No that was not me. The Guild did. This is my work, and I enjoy it greatly,” he said indicating the hundreds of tiny clockwork pieces.
“Sir I had better be off to find my young friend. You are sure you have no idea where he might be?”
Shanzezim assessed Marko and seemed to come to a decision. “Someone was bought by the cultists—I do not like them, they bully the creatures in the pool—and taken into the room to the south. Perhaps it is your friend.”
“Thank you!” Marko beamed. “And what are the creatures in the water?”
“Elementals, weirds—they won’t harm you if you leave them to themselves. The cultists will order them against you though,” he warned.
“Does it not trouble you that you are at the auspices of the cult?” Eli said.
“They do not trouble me. There is nothing they can do with me nor I for them.”
“Sir—why do you suffer to work amongst these cultists?”
“I am bound here. I may not leave,” Shanzezim explained simply.
“Who says?”
“Why the Water Clock Guild.”
“Your own guild says you may not leave?”
“I am bound, and I am happy. I have considered trying to leave, as I have not heard from the Guild for many years, but I do not want to take that risk while I have my work.”
“But no-one has these ‘waterclocks’,” Eli stressed, “They are not a thing now.”
Shanzezim looked down as his life’s work littering the tabletop. He looked up to meet Eli’s gaze. “I have a waterclock,” he said with conviction.
Three stepped into the room. “The guild does not exist now,” he said, as kindly as he could, “You can go now.”
Shanzezim looked over. “Do you speak the truth?”
Three nodded.
Shanzezim paused. “I will complete my work. And then…maybe I will leave.”
“We will leave you to your work,” Marko said. “If you can tell the elementals that we are not their enemy that would be appreciated.”
Shanzezim nodded slowly. “And I appreciate your interest in my work. There is one other thing I can tell you—occasionally I hear the ringing of bells beyond this room.”
“Yes! What are they?”
“Stolen from the old clock mechanisms,” Shanzezim said sadly. “I do not know for what purpose, but I can hum for you the sequence of their chimes.”
“Ah! That would be incredibly valuable to us, sir!” Marko enthused.
“Very well: Re, Mi, Do, Do, So,” Shanzezim intoned, his voice from the depths deeply resonant. “The second ‘Do’ is an octave deeper,” he said as he repeated the phrase.
“Thank you , sir, thank you.”
“I wish you well on your journeys, and finding your friend. Do come back if you wish—you may like to see the clock when it is complete,” Shanzezim smiled.
“I certainly will!” Marko beamed at the invitation, then ushered everyone from the room.
Once everyone had left the room, Eli turned back. “I have one last question for you,” he said, drawing a look of keen interest from Shanzezim. “How is it that you sleep at night knowing that this cult exists around you and you do nothing?”
Shanzezim frowned, taken aback, then leaned forward. “What could I do, young Orc?”
“You could fight them?”
“You have not been listening: I cannot leave this room!” Shanzezim rumbled, temper rising.
“So you have said but you clearly have not tried.”
“I am bound!”
“By what? You are complacent. You disgust me,” Eli scowled, slamming the door closed.
Marko unlocked the padlock on the southern door which was oozing water from beneath the frame. Crouched inside the waterlogged room was a sodden Flukespan! He leapt to his feet. “Mister Marko! You found me!” he cried with joy.
“Young Flukespan! How are you—are you ok?” Marko asked.
“I have been better!”
“Why were you taken?”
“Not long after you met with the others they took me? They have been trying to get secrets from me about the Wee Folk!”
Marko frowned. “You didn’t reveal anything…?”
“Not yet!”
“Reveal your secrets to us,” Eli commanded, still smouldering about Shanzezim. Flukespan may once have been a companion but now it seemed he was another useless gear in the cultist machine.
“I have no secrets from Mister Marko—nor from you, my friends. You know all about me!” Flukespan beamed, looking around.
“Hold you secrets,” Sifer cautioned, still feeling the hidden power of Sarcelle’s words.
Flukespan nodded. “I shall. Not that I have one. Or…well I do, but…”
“Tell us—have you had visions?” Sifer asked.
“No? Well…maybe. I wouldn’t tell you if I had though because then…I would be revealing my…maybe I have?! Ha ha,” he laughed nervously. He turned back to Marko. “I’ll get out of here and get back to the Wee Folk and tell them what has happened. Is there any message you would like me to pass?” he whispered.
Marko nodded. “Be very vigilant at night, and during the day. People like yourself are being taken away.”
Eli scratched his head. “I am confused. I heard that people from high levels of society are being taken. Yet here is Flukespan, who I hadn’t remembered being a noble?”
Flukespan looked affronted. “Well, sir. Mr Eli isn’t it? Brother Eli if I recall? Well. The Wee Folk are rising and we—”
“Eli,” Idris interrupted, “A lot has happened here in ten years. There is more to Mr Timbers than you might recall.”
Marko was scowling at Eli who suddenly looked devastated. Had Marko thought his words somehow heightist? “I meant no insult,” Eli apologised, “I just didn’t know that Flukespan had such status in society.”
“The Wee Folk work at all levels of society,” Flukespan declared.
“Forgive me,” Eli said in Halfling, which surprisingly Flukespan understood, despite being a gnome.
“Given our history I will forgive you. But don’t be so hasty to judge, young Brother—you should know better.”
Eli nodded solemnly. Though he did still think his judgement of Shanzezim had been spot on.
“It’s not about status, it’s about secrets,” Sifer concluded as Flukespan scurried away.
The final room was a another cog room full of pipes and dripping water. As it was being examined, Idris slipped back into Shanzezim’s room. The creature didn’t acknowledge his entry, so Idris spoke up.
“Shanzezim, my name is Idris, and it’s nice to meet you. You are obviously not originally from here, no unlike myself. Should you ever find yourself wanting to leave, once your clock is finished—across the river, go east along the north bank to an inn called the Shining Serpent, and tell them Idris sent you. You’ll have a place to stay until you get yourself sorted.”
Shanzezim nodded slowly, not turning his head from his work. Idris wondered at the fish-creature’s saddened demeanour, not having witnessed Eli’s outburst, closing the door softly as he rejoined the company.
Marko led everyone up the stairs to the passageway between the graveyards where the bells hung ominously overhead.
Sessions played: September 9, 2024
