The Nightstone Brigade

Chapter 1

Kovos Varuxath hung amid the comforting waters of the Lake of Dragons, freed from the oppressive weight of his recent time on dry land. Following his departure from the Ardent, he had returned to his home in the Sea of Fallen Stars, hoping to find guidance from his celestial patron. Sorath, however, had not been forthcoming. And so Kovos continued his meditation, breaking his solitude only occasionally for the barest necessities of survival, and to help any sick or wounded he came across. And come across much he did, for the tides and currents of the sea had taken him on a great journey over the months despite his minimal locomotion, bearing him from his home many miles to the waters near Cormyr. He had begun to suspect that Sorath's hand was indeed at play, using the tides to bring him to forgotten souls in need of aid. And perhaps also for some grander purpose.

At once from behind arose an incoherent noise. The sound of laughter and revelry, as though a grand feast of the nobility of the surface world. Immediately his mind raced to his brief time in the courts of fey and he opened his eyes, hand reaching for his trusted warclub. What he instead laid eyes on left him floating stunned, in shock and bewilderment.

* * *

Baron Wislaw I Jansobski, the Warrior-Scholar, lord of Nightstone, protector of the Ardeep and, apparently, piggybank of the Suzail Jansobskis, sat miserably in the home of his cousin Kareltew. He had hoped that stumbling across the scene of a grizzly murder and then promptly saving several bystanders from the culprit - a bone devil - might be enough to excuse him from this gathering, but it seemed that familial duty outweighed all else. And so, as people ate, and drank, and sang, and laughed all about him, he desperately tried to act like he wasn't falling asleep. So tired was he that he began to feel weightless, his eyes clouding over as if he were underwater.

"It is ridiculous I say," boomed the voice of that dragonborn officer again, startling Wislaw out of the beginnings of a dream, "that the garrison has been so reduced! We musn't allow the Well of Dragons to fall back into the hands of the cult!"

Couldn't he quiet down for just a few minutes? Wislaw had heard plenty of times how the knight and his band had faced Tiamat herself after cutting a swathe through the cult of dragons. Which reminded Wislaw of that airship the cult provided him and the others, and how it flew weightless in the sky…

Forcing himself back to consciousness, Wislaw opened his eyes. His initial reaction to finding himself underwater was one of relief. At least if he'd been magically teleported into the middle of the ocean he had a valid excuse to not be at Kareltew's party when he inevitably came looking for money. His second reaction after actually thinking for a moment was one of considerably more concern. Drowning was not conducive to good health, he had heard.

Strangely though, he did not feel any amount of panic, and instead felt an otherworldly calm. Before he could begin the process to dispel the charm he assumed had been placed on him, he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye: Doctor Varuxath from the Ardent? Oh, and he realised he could somehow still breathe, which was good.

"Baron Wislaw?" spoke the triton. "Do you know how I got here?"

Why was he asking Wislaw? They were clearly underwater, wouldn't a triton have a better idea? It was then that Wislaw noticed that, while he himself was suspended in the water, Kovos was standing on the seafloor, seemingly unaffected by it.

"This appears to be some sort of vision, doctor." Replied the baron. "I assume you can see the feast that I'm at?"

Kovos took a moment to process what Wislaw had said, before responding with a hesitant "Yes…"

"My apologies for that." Replied Wislaw, "I take it you have no idea what's going on either then."

"Some idea, perhaps." Kovos paced across the sand, inspecting unseen sights and weaving around nonexistent obstacles. "I have been seeking insight from Sorath, the solar who has been guiding me since my exile several years ago. I suspect he has connected our minds for some purpose."

Why on Toril would a solar decide to do that in the middle of a dull feast? Why not in a dream or something else more poetic? The doctor conveniently answered that quandary, "Sorath can normally only communicate with me when I am in a state of complete mindlessness, matching his own centuries-long meditation. How is it that you achieved such a state at a party?"

"Well, let's just say that 'party' is a strong word for-..." Wislaw was abruptly cut off as the scene before him sharply shifted.

A vast and pleasant land stretched as far as he could see. Great cities hung in the sky above it. Immediately he recognised it as the ancient civilisation of Netheril, the height of humanity's arcane might, and the height of its folly. An intense feeling of unease slammed into Wislaw, and he felt as though he would be unable to stand if he was presently in control of his body. At once the mighty cities fell from the sky, crashing into the land below. The land itself began to wither, as time appeared to speed up, and the passage of millenia now occurred in mere moments. Suddenly it slowed again, presumably catching up to the present or recent past. At the site of the nearest city's fall, now covered in ancient dunes of sand, dozens, perhaps hundreds of figures moved about. It was clear that they were excavating the location, and obvious that they were seeking that forgotten city.

Another shift occurred. Wislaw could once again see land below him, but this was more familiar. Nightstone and its surrounds lay before him, with numerous fields and hamlets covering the countryside. And it was all burning. At first he thought this a vision of the past, but not even when Nightstone was laid waste during the cloud giant attack was there so much destruction. At once it became clear that this was a portent of things to come or, as he hoped, a warning of what might come.

Someone was digging up what should be left buried. Someone was endangering the people of Nightstone; the people that Wislaw was sworn to defend by his sacred vow as their lord. Someone didn't seem to understand the risks involved with their actions.

"Sorath, or whoever is doing this," Wislaw had no body in this vision-within-a-vision, but he willed to speak nonetheless, "show me who is responsible for this, and how to stop them."

* * *

Kovos' senses returned to him as he found himself once more in that hall of feasting. His mind still reeled from the vision of his home village crumbling and being dragged into the unseen depths of chasms in the seabed. He had little time to contemplate it, however, as Baron Wislaw was once again before him, now with an air of wrath and determination about him. There was a brief nod exchanged between them, as each recognised the other had received similar visions.

"Meet me at the docks of Suzail tomorrow morning." Wislaw wasted no time with preamble. "From there we will make our way to Nightstone and assemble a force to deal with this threat."

Chapter 2

Hocrelm had expected saving a city from the depths of the Nine Hells to come with more substantial monetary compensation, but alas, all he and his compatriots had received was the eternal gratitude of thousands and immense magical power. Not that money was for him an end unto itself, of course, but rather a means by which to do more good. He desired to purchase a title of Baldurian nobility so that he may endeavour to help the downtrodden people of his home city within a legal framework. Any resulting privilege or material comfort was… merely a secondary benefit. After all, members of the Baldurian Jewellers' Guild such as himself didn't exactly live in poverty either.

Hocrelm had been trudging along the Tradeway alone for far too long, passing through various settlements and offering his sorcerous healing free of charge to the poor, and at a reasonable fee to the wealthy. When he had reached the small trading settlement of Southwater, intending to provide his services to its people, he was surprised to hear that their lord already did the same on a regular basis. Intrigued by this word of one who had seemingly already walked a similar path to Hocrelm's own, he headed north to the seat of this lord, a small village and castle called Nightstone.

And so it was that Hocrelm found himself led by a talking shrubbery into the great hall of one Baron Wislaw Jansobski, a supposedly Waterdhavian noble with a Damaran name and a Cormyrean title, who was currently speaking with a triton in gleaming white and blue half-plate armour, a small bat hanging from a painted warclub at his side.

Hocrelm took several hesitant steps forward before kneeling, and speaking. "My lord, I have heard tell of your powers, and your benevolence toward your subjects, and have come to see if such tales were indeed true."

* * *

Kovos watched suspiciously as a short man in brigandine armour atop fashionable, puffy clothing was led into Nightstone Keep by one of those animate plants. When the man spoke, Kovos watched the baron closely, though little effort was needed to spot the expected reaction. The man had, by intent or accident, spoken the exact words that would invariably endear himself to Wislaw. Was this your doing? He thought at his patron, unsure if such words could be heard. He noted the man's armour and shield, and conspicuous lack of any weapon beyond a dagger. Several daggers, actually. Moving to get a better look as Wislaw recovered from the barrage of compliments, Kovos spotted the symbol on his shield: a balanced set of scales resting atop a warhammer; the symbol of Tyr. A man of the cloth then?

"Rise." Spoke Wislaw. "Indeed I endeavour to lead my people justly, in accordance with the obligations of…"

Kovos didn't bother paying attention to Wislaw's tirade of formality. This couldn't be a coincidence, he decided. But had Sorath brought this man to them? Or was this some plot by their as-yet unseen foe? Either possibility was worrying. In the latter case, a hostile agent would be in their midst, and in the former, a being as wise as his patron had seen fit to gather yet another to their cause, boding ill for the severity of their quest.

Inevitably Wislaw would seek to bring this man along with them, and Kovos suspected that he would be willing to join them. One way or another, they would find out the truth of their new companion's allegiance.

Chapter 3

"Now, are we certain this is the right place?" Questioned Kovos, as Wislaw entered the tall building by himself. "Lord Wislaw knows what he is doing." Came the reply of Sir Waldek, a grizzled veteran, and the Baron's trusted retainer. After unexpectedly joining this small band, now numbering four with the addition of the knight, Hocrelm had followed the lord of Nightstone to the great city of Waterdeep. Not as great a city as Baldur's Gate though, of course. Probably less corrupt, though.

"I'm sure he does," responded Kovos, "but I'm quite certain I've been to this building before, and it was a tavern…"

"This is a tavern." The knight stared at Kovos with an unchanging, neutral expression.

"Yes, but… it had a different name." The triton appeared confused, but also kept looking over at Hocrelm for some reason.

"Change of ownership." Hocrelm suspected that Waldek didn’t have his facts entirely in order, but he could also tell that Sir Waldek was becoming annoyed, and so remained silent.

"And it was in a different part of the city."

"Wizard did it."

"A wizard did it? Why…" Kovos seemed to notice the slight grin creeping across Waldek's face, and ceased his line of questioning.

"Lord Wislaw and I used to adventure with someone who works here. She's going to point us toward a sneaky-type."

Just then, the door to the building before them burst open, and a female wood elf in rugged, earthy green clothing rushed out.

"Kovos! I thought you were in the ocean!" She exclaimed.

"Valna?" Came Kovos' startled reply. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. Are you the one joining our band then?"

"Joining your what?" Valna hesitated a moment. "Oh! You're with that Wawrzyniec Jachowski guy! No, sorry, it's actually my friend Sariel's adopted sister's former adventuring partner who's joining you."

"I… See." Stated Kovos.

* * *

About an hour later, Wislaw and his men were joined by the sneaky-type provided by Sariel: a half-even woman named Savri, who was apparently a ranger or burglar or scout of some kind. Wislaw suspected she was also a member of the Harpers, a nongovernmental band of vigilantes and hooligans that allegedly weren’t criminals. He’d have preferred an agent of the Lord’s Alliance, but didn’t have the luxury of time with which to be picky. Just to be safe, he had Waldek keep a closer eye on their coin purses.

“Wait… Let me know if I’m missing something.” Said Savri, as she joined the others at a table in the Bronze Dragon, a tavern across from the Arrowheads’ base of operations, and apparently run by them. “The two of you had a vague dream or vision that implied something bad might happen, and just assembled a band of random people before having any specifics at all?”

Wislaw grit his teeth at this display of insolence, but fortunately Kovos spoke up before him. “I have for some time been guided by a Solar, a powerful celestial being, who’s visions have led me to intervene in several crises. We suspect this is another such case.”

“You suspect, do you?” Replied the upstart, “Well, whatever, wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened. You’ve seen a wizard about it then?”

“The three of us, Kovos, Wislaw, and I,” spoke Hocrelm, “are quite adept in the ways of both arcane and divine magics.”

“Yes but are any of you wizards?”

Savri had to wait several awkward moments before Hocrelm answered.

“Well, no, I don’t believe any of us are wizards, per se.”

Savri took a long sip of her drink before speaking, “Okay, we’re going to see one then, or we’ll all get ourselves killed. Follow me.”

Chapter 4

Oh great, Valfaris thought to herself, adventurers.

The five of them sauntered into The Dancing Spirit much in the same way their sort always did, full of arrogance and self-importance. Valfaris had gone adventuring herself, of course, but that was different. It was purely for anthropological research purposes. The vast wealth of gold and arcane knowledge she had accumulated was merely a means through which to conduct more of said research. And hide from the Amnian authorities. That too. Fortunately, the adventurers did not seem to notice Valfaris, so they were someone else's problem.

"Hi!" A halfling's voice pierced throughout the room. "My name's Corvon Halfstep! What's yours?"

"I am Baron Wislaw I Jansobski, lord of Nightstone and protector of the Ardeep." Said the most uptight of them. "We come here on instruction from Mount Celestia, seeking the wizard who resides in this place."

Oh, great.

"Nice to meet you Barry Wilson the first Janbowski lord of Gnat-stone and protector of the Artichoke."

Don't do it, Corvon.

"You're looking for a wizard?"

Please…

"Sorry…"

Phew.

"But Valfaris told me not to tell anyone she's here or that she's a wizard."

Why…

Valfaris considered simply leaving, but figured these people would probably keep looking for her. She figured she might as well take this opportunity to fulfil her wizardly obligations to appear wise and mysterious.

She quickly slunk up the stairs as a small crowd passed between her and the adventurers, letting her cloak flutter enough to catch their attention. Then, as she heard one of them step in her direction, she muttered an incantation, summoning a rift in the fabric of space as she cast dimension door and appeared behind the adventurers, with them none the wiser. She opened her mouth to address this "Wislaw" character by name and complete the spectacle…

"Oh, there you are, Valfaris!"

Dang it, Corvon.

* * *

"You spent ten minutes and a month's wages in incense casting that spell, and all you got back was a riddle?" For being the one that insisted on seeing a wizard, Savri seemed rather annoyed with the results.

"That's how these things tend to work." Came the tiefling, Valfaris', reply.

"Well can't you solve it?" Savri looked oddly distressed about the concept of having to solve a puzzle, but Kovos was too distracted by this building to truly notice. It was identical to the Arrowheads' hideout. Who builds an exact copy of someone else's house? Is this normal among land-dwellers? Which one was built first?

"Listen, you're the ones that came to me, a wizard, asking for mystical guidance. What were you expecting?"

Is this one made out of the same materials as the other? It seems older, but maybe it just hasn't been maintained as well.

"I'm going to look for Enna." Savri said, as she abruptly stood up from her chair.

"No need, burglar," announced Wislaw, "I can solve this riddle myself." He promptly turned to face his liegeman. "Waldek, solve the riddle."

"Of course, my liege."

Waldek proceeded to sit down, take off his helmet, and put some sort of metal band or circlet on his head. He then continued to sit still for some time, leaning forward with his chin resting on his fist, and his face scrunched slightly in concentration.

Did Waldek know that there was a duplicate, or is this just a coincidence?

"Okay, well now this is just awkward." Said Valfaris after several minutes of silence. "I figured it out already, I can just tell-..."

"Silence!" Hissed the baron. "Sir Waldek is thinking."

Several more moments passed, before Waldek's head suddenly shot up. "I have it, my liege!" He proclaimed. "The enemy commander is in a lair beneath Neverwinter, while the excavation is five leagues north of the Black Road, and nine east of the Weathercote Forest."

Are there other copies of this building throughout the city? In other cities? Is it a popular design?

"That's… actually correct. What is that cir-..."

Valfaris was cut off as Wislaw addressed Kovos directly, "Well, Doctor Varuxath, it appears we have our targets. I will take Waldek to deal with their leader, while you lead these three to the Anauroch."

Kovos was forced out of his contemplation, "Uh, yes, right, of course, good idea Lord Wislaw."

"Wait, three of them?" Valfaris protested as Wislaw marched out of the room, followed closely by Sir Waldek, now donning his nasal helm again.

Chapter 5

Fortunately, Kovos had managed to catch Wislaw and find out the actual details of where they were going. Well, Savri hoped he had the actual directions. Nearly a month of travelling by foot, horse, and riverboat had brought their small party to the other side of the continent, all the way to the edge of the great Anauroch Desert, so it would be nice if they were going the right way.

The snapping of a twig broke the silence of the cool night air.

Savri immediately knocked an arrow to her bow, and carefully looked out from her hiding place, ready to feather any trespassers. She saw nothing, even with her half-elven eyes adapted to the dark, and was ready to sound the alarm when she suddenly heard the squelching of wet boots on the forest floor. She sighed inwardly as Kovos wandered into view, once again making no effort to remain hidden or quiet.

"If you're going to lumber around everywhere anyway," Savri grumbled, "you might as well let us know it's you."

"My apologies," replied Kovos, "I'll try to be quieter next time. That being said, I don't know if we're in any real danger yet."

Savri grunted her reply, hesitated a few moments, and spoke, "Why are you wet?"

"Ah, yes," responded Kovos, "I did manage to find a small settlement of woodcutters and ask them about what's ahead for us. They mentioned that the Zhentarim control several locations along the Black Road, and that there are isolated conflicts between the Bedine and the Netherese remnant across the Anauroch. I don't think either will be a problem for us, assuming we stick with this plan of staying off the road."

"Okay…" said Savri, "But why are you wet?"

"Well," muttered Kovos, "there was a creek, and I like water."

Before Savri had time to process this response, she heard something change in the forest. The chirping of crickets stopped as things suddenly became quiet.

That can't be good. She thought to herself.

* * *

"Now, I've been meaning to ask for some time," stated Hocrelm, "and I don't mean to be rude. But why do you have a golden skull?"

Valfaris didn't seem to entirely register the question as she read through her spellbook, her familiar, a raven named J'eff, sitting on her shoulder and repeatedly slamming his head into one of her horns. Not pecking with his beak, slamming his entire head into it.

"Hmm?" she mumbled without looking up, "Oh, that's Demoux."

The wizard provided no further explanation.

How are you even reading that so far from the fire? Hocrelm thought to himself in the proceeding silence. Oh, right, everyone else can see in the dark. Why is humanity's eyesight so poor? Perhaps we were cursed for some ancient, generational evil.

Hocrelm seemed to be picking up some of Kovos' introspective tendencies. Not wishing to entertain that pursuit for too long, he spoke again.

"And… Why did you bring 'Demoux' with you?"

Valfaris slammed her spellbook closed, startling J'eff such that he fell off her shoulder, and hissed in an oddly defensive manner, "Why did you bring stupid puffy clothes with you?"

"Well now that's just uncalled for." Responded Hocrelm. "These are the height of fashion in Baldur's Gate."

Just then the frantic squeaking of a bat pierced through the night sky.

That must be Kovos' familiar. Why has he sent Alfred back here?

It took only moments to realise that something must be amiss, and so Hocrelm stood quickly. He grabbed his kite shield and ensured his component pouch was on his belt, as he muttered an arcane word and motioned his hand, snuffing the campfire with his prestidigitation spell… And blinding himself by removing the only source of light in the process.

He heard motion as Valfaris presumably caught on that something was happening. He managed to position his back to a tree so he at least wouldn't be surrounded, but couldn't do much else without being able to see. No moonlight made it through the tree canopy overhead, and he wasn't about to cast light when there could be assassins hiding in the trees. Then again, if they weren't human, they could almost certainly see better than him in the dark, and no better in the light.

Before long, the crunching of dead leaves and grass under heavy feet could be heard approaching the campsite.

Do those sound too heavy to be human? Maybe if I can hear them speak…

Hushed voices that didn't sound quite right, fairly loud sniffing…

They could just be rather odd humans.

Hyena-like cackling…

Ah. Gnolls. Light it is.

Hocrelm pulled a desiccated firefly from his pouch and shouted "Lux!", slamming the arcane component onto the front of his shield, causing it to shine forth brilliant light as he leapt toward his previously unseen foes.

All thirty of them.

Well that's not good.

Half a dozen spear-wielding fiends rushed towards him immediately, with several others electing instead to hurl their spear at him. He quickly threw up an unseen shield of force to deflect the incoming missiles, before pulling a small vial of phosphorescent moss from his component pouch, shattering it in his hand, and casting hypnotic pattern. At once ten of the gnolls stumbled to a halt, mesmerised by the ever-shifting colours that had appeared in the air before them. The other two, however, kept rushing toward him.

Oh dear. I might actually have to fight them.

As Hocrelm shuddered at the thought, a golden skull, glinting in the arcane light of his shield, was tossed from outside his field of view, landing upright on the ground between him and the gnolls, who were now some thirty feet away. As they neared 'Demoux', earth shot up around the skull, as it suddenly sat atop a large, skeletal body, which promptly grabbed the two gnolls, one in each hand, and slammed them together.

Ah, that's better.

* * *

Kovos rushed through the underbrush, his face repeatedly lashed by branches until he fumbled his helmet onto his head. He could hear shouting and cackling coming from the campsite, not too far away.

I hope I haven't lost any of those diamonds.

His fears that he would have to revive either of his party members were put to rest as he entered into the clearing. A large animate skeleton with a golden skull fought half a dozen hyena-people, gnolls he thought they were called, while Hocrelm and Valfaris blasted bolts of fire at another dozen or so further back.

Without hesitation, Kovos dashed toward the gnolls as he chanted an ancient proverb, which when translated meant something like "May the light forsake you, as you have forsaken it." He was then engulfed in a supernatural darkness, which subtly threw off the aim and deflected several spears thrown at him.

He was then suddenly engulfed in a fireball as well.

"Altin!" He heard himself shout by reflex, before realising that the fire had touched neither him nor the hulking skeleton. Indeed, rather than harming him, the blaze seemed to empower him as he struck with supernatural speed, felling a burning gnoll with his green-flame wreathed war club.

Seeing that the gnolls around him were now dead or otherwise out of the fight, he turned towards those further away. He mentally commanded Alfred to swoop one of them, distracting it long enough for him to shoot around its shield with three rapid blasts of eldritch power. The other gnolls began to waver as that one fell, but quickly flew into a frenzy as Kovos and the skeleton charged at them, supported by a rain of firebolts and the occasional arrow from the treeline.

* * *

Why am I here again? Savri thought to herself as she emerged into the forest after the short fight, carrying her shortbow and distinct lack of any magic with her.

"Y'know," mused Valfaris as she turned to Hocrelm, "I considered specialising in evocation before focusing on abjuration instead. Where did you learn how to shape your fireball like that?"

"Learn?" responded Hocrelm, a quizzical look on his face, "I can just do that, can't you?"

"Sorcerers…" the wizard muttered to herself.

"Abjuration?!" Savri shouted as she approached, pointing to the giant golden-skulled skeleton, "How is that abjuration?!"

"Savri has a point," Hocrelm agreed, "that does seem like necromancy."

"Necromancy?" Valfaris protested, "What, just because I'm a tiefling you think I'm a necromancer?"

"No, no," objected Hocrelm, "I have nothing against tieflings. I spent a long time in the Nine Hells, you see."

Valfaris simply stared at him, slack jawed. The skeleton's jaw then swung fully open in a disturbing mimicry of its master.

"I think," commanded Kovos as he walked back into the clearing, "we had best be on our way. Some of those gnolls escaped to the east, and this site is compromised."

He then addressed Valfaris specifically.

"But maybe dispel the skeleton."

Chapter 6

Beyond the sand dune who’s crest the party hid behind, Kovos could make out a small city of tents and scaffolding in the distance. Two or three miles away, hundreds of workers moved about, many of them hauling sand and earth up from a vast pit that was partially obscured from view.

“This is exactly what the Baron and I saw in the vision.” Kovos muttered, taking pains to remain quiet.

“Well, it looks like they are still digging,” said Hocrelm, “which means they must not have found whatever it is they’re looking for. Speaking of which, do we actually know what they’re looking for, or why they’re looking for it?”

“It’s probably some sort of world-ending magical artefact.” Replied Savri. “Probably with some wizard looking to use it to ascend to godhood or something.”

“Hopefully not,” said Valfaris, “a competent wizard could be more dangerous than everyone down there in that camp combined.”

Choosing to charitably assume that was an attempt at humour by the spellcaster, rather than extreme egotism as was common with wizards, Kovos responded, “Regardless of who our unseen foe is, your spell told us that they are in Neverwinter, not here. That’s for Baron Wislaw to deal with.

Kovos looked around, surveying the arid landscape all around them. “This camp must be getting supplies from somewhere, probably caravans along the Black Road. We should find one, and have a talk with its leader to find out more about what’s going on down there.”

* * *

“Alright, Sir Waldek,” stated Wislaw solemnly, “it’s just us against all of them. Around that corner is a small army of mercenaries, and we have to break through it on our own.”

“Indeed, my liege.” Responded Waldek, “Should I command the strike force the Lords’ Alliance provided us to attack ahead of us?”

“No, Sir Waldek,” replied Wislaw, looking back at the three dozen elite soldiers under his command, “we must stick to the plan.”

“We shall stay here then, my lord.” Stated Waldek with a respectful bow.

Wislaw calibrated the charge on each of his Thunder Gauntlets, making sure the correct number of runes were alight with arcane power. He then donned his helmet, hefted his shield, and ignited the ancient Netherese symbol for “speed”, as he cast the haste spell. At once he rushed forth with blinding speed around the corner, into a hail of crossbow bolts, many of which missed his speeding form, while others pinged harmlessly off his shield or armour.

Only crossbowmen? The reports said they were hired by a wizard…

As Wislaw neared the mercenaries’ barricade, he pulled one of them toward himself with telekinetic power from his right gauntlet, before slamming the same fist into the man’s flying form, unleashing a carefully controlled burst of thunderous power, knocking him unconscious. He then walked through the gap left by that mercenary’s flight, still moving with supernatural speed, and proceeded to slam his fist into each of the mercenaries, one by one, as their weapons bounced ineffectually off his nigh-impregnable armour.

Within thirty seconds, the score of mercenaries were lying on the ground, most unconscious, some groaning in pain. He called for his soldiers to move up and secure the prisoners, before continuing around the next corner.

As soon as he stepped around it, three bolts of force slammed into his chest, bypassing his shield completely but being absorbed by his armour. At the same time, two heavily-armoured and very large soldiers, orcs by the look of things, rushed him with small shields and warhammers, trying to grapple him to the ground.

Stop wasting my time, please, I need to get to your boss before haste runs out.

These shock troops took a little longer to subdue, each taking several blows before falling, but before long, Wislaw was faced with their captain, a hobgoblin in heavy armour, who wasted no time launching more magic missiles at him.

You’re no wizard. Where’s the one who hired you?

The missiles slammed into him repeatedly, causing no real damage, but hurting nonetheless.

I really need to remember how to cast shield.

In moments, Wislaw was within striking range of the mercenary captain, but his initial flurry of blows was blocked by a barrier of force thrown up by the hobgoblin’s magics.

Maybe I should ask him.

Wislaw continued to bear down on his foe, who fought valiantly with shield and a blade wreathed in green fire. Wislaw managed to rip the shield from his enemy’s hand, causing the warrior to leap backward, putting some distance between them, before hurriedly speaking.

“I understand your people have a concept known as honourable surrender.”

Wislaw abated his onslaught for a moment, which was apparently enough to prompt the hobgoblin to throw his sword to the ground and put his hands in the air.

“Your surrender is accepted.” spewed Wislaw in hasted speech, before realising his spell was about to end. “Sir Waldek!”

Haste ended.

Wislaw awoke a few moments later, being propped up by Sir Waldek and one of the Lords’ Alliance soldiers.

“Thank you, Sir Waldek.” Wislaw said, as he looked toward the reinforced door behind the hobgoblin captain. “Now, to deal with this wizard.”

Chapter 7

Tension filled the night air following the interrogation of the prisoner, and Hocrelm wasn’t entirely sure why. The adventurers had posed as treasure hunters, approaching the caravan under the pretence of seeking to purchase supplies, only to be immediately shot at with arrows. Not having anywhere to take cover, the four of them assaulted the guards’ position and quickly defeated them, before finding out that they had been transporting more than provisions. Whoever was running this excavation was seemingly more than happy to employ the use of slave labour. Hocrelm’s blood boiled at the mere thought of that vile, wretched, Amnian institution, and so he was more than happy to set the two dozen would-be slaves free, and hand over the caravan’s supplies and surviving guards to them.

Except for one, of course. The caravan’s apparent leader, a well-armoured Chondathan man who, following a brief interrogation, was now bound in the sand between the four party members. Kovos, Savri, and Valfaris were all coiled like snakes, and it seemed that the slightest surprise would set them to violence against one another. Hocrelm had to be careful in defusing this situation.

“So…” he started calmly, “would somebody mind letting me know why you all look about ready to kill one another?”

Nobody responded for an unpleasantly long time, before Kovos eventually spoke, “Just making sure nobody tries anything with the prisoner.”

“Tries anything?” stammered Hocrelm, “What, do you think someone is just going to execute an unarmed prisoner?”

The three of them turned to look at Hocrelm blankly.

“By the gods!” He exclaimed, “What sort of monsters do you people associate with?”

Fortunately, they seemed to calm down after realising they were all doing the same thing, though Hocrelm was now concerned that the freed slaves might now seek to take vengeance on the guards who had wronged them. Kovos seemed to sense this fear.

“Don’t worry, Hocrelm, one of those we freed is a Purple Dragon Knight, I’m sure justice will be able to take its course.” He then turned to address all three of the other party members, “Now then, we have some idea of the site’s defences. Most of the guards are poorly equipped mercenaries, and they will be hampered by needing to keep an eye on the forced labourers. There shouldn’t be any powerful spellcasters, and their leader is half a continent away. Let’s formulate a plan.”

* * *

Wislaw burst through the tunnel’s door, alight with divine power, spectral wings spurring him forward. A deafening crack resounded through the narrow confines of the hideout, as a projectile impacted against his magically-infused shield.

A firearm!? Where did they get one of those?

A second boom sounded, as chips of stone exploded from the wall behind Wislaw.

“Everyone take cover!” He shouted, as he took flight with his celestial wings.

More shots continued to fire, one every second. Wislaw could see nothing through the smoke filling the room, but could hear unhinged laughter, interspersed with intelligible words.

“Netheril shall rise once more! Netheril shall rise once more!”

Focusing on the source of the words, Wislaw swooped down from his meagre vantage in the air of the small cavern, and slammed a gauntleted fist directly into the speaker’s face.

When the smoke cleared, Wislaw could see that the robed old man had been stationed behind, of all things, a ribald. These rare repeating firearm contraptions were infamously dangerous, such that they were often called the pipes of Gond. They were supposed to be tightly controlled by the Lantanese; whoever this was clearly either had deep connections or enough skill in gunsmithing to make his own.

You’re no wizard, though…

Wislaw looked around the room, seeking some further ingress toward his quarry, the one who threatened his people, but could find none. He knelt down and grabbed the half-conscious lunatic by the collar.

“Where is your master?” He growled.

“The master? Hoo hoo hoo,” the maniac laughed, “the master has gone to Netheril. It will rise once more, you see.”

A sinking feeling swept over Wislaw, as he realised what this meant. He hoped he hadn’t sent the others to their deaths.

Chapter 8

If Valfaris had learned anything in Undermountain, it was that both information and stealth were essential if one wanted to avoid being swarmed by goblins, drow, or other miscellaneous denizens of the deep. Such experience had once again paid off.

The others had considered a more-or-less direct assault against the excavation site, floating the idea of freeing and arming the slaves against their captors. Valfaris had, of course, vetoed this ridiculous plan right away. Apparently Kovos and Hocrelm had scarcely delved any ancient ruins in their adventuring careers, while Savri had evidently only survived her trip to the Tomb of Annihilation thanks to another wizard.

And so it was that the party, unseen thanks to Valfaris' invisibility spell, crept through the tunnels and halls of what seemed to be the long-buried remains of an old Netherese stronghold. They had passed many more guards on the upper levels, managing to remain undetected up to this point. However, their path was now blocked by a sizable cohort of guards, who seemed to be in argument with a similar number of armed gnolls.

Okay, is everybody still together? Valfaris thought at her companions via the telepathic bond she had established half an hour earlier.

I can’t tell, thought Hocrelm, we’re all invisible.

Can you see the horde of mercenaries and hyena-things? Thought Savri.

Ah, yes I can. Responded Hocrelm. Any ideas on how we’re going to deal with them?

We should avoid unnecessary bloodshed, thought Kovos, and we don’t want to waste resources fighting here anyway.

I have a plan, announced Valfaris, but it will break our invisibility. When they all start fighting and we can see each other, I will teleport Savri and myself behind them. Kovos and Hocrelm, I assume you can do that on your own.

Magicians… groaned Savri internally.

You know we can hear you, right? Thought Hocrelm.

Oh I’m aware. Came Savri’s reply.

While they were bickering, Valfaris raised her staff and performed the necessary incantations for major image. Suddenly one of the gnolls appeared to draw its weapon and leap at one of the guards. Within moments, violence broke out between the two groups, and the adventurers took the opportunity to bypass them. Wasting no time, the four of them ran down the corridor behind the gnolls, hoping that none of the combatants would spot their now-visible forms.

“I said we should avoid unnecessary violence.” Complained Kovos.

“I would consider that violence necessary.” Retorted Valfaris.

They reached a T-intersection, turning right on the instruction of Kovos, as there seemed to be light coming from that direction. Unfortunately, as they turned the corner, they noticed that within said light were the hulking forms of no less than four large, animated warrior statues made entirely of iron.

“Iron golems.” Announced Kovos. “Let’s go the other way.”

Valfaris immediately summoned a wall of force to block the path of the constructs that were now rushing toward them.

“That should hold them for a minute.” She said before following Kovos’ recommendation.

They rushed down the other darkened corridor, as the sounds of hyena cackling moved toward them from the path they had originally come from. Hocrelm grumbled quietly as he produced light, and the four of them reached a reinforced door before long.

Valfaris, at this point having completely thrown aside reasonable dungeon-delving procedure, rushed up to the door and immediately cast knock on it and swung it open. They all rushed into the room and slammed the door closed behind themselves, Kovos throwing the door’s bar into place as soon as they were through.

“Well,” panted Savri, “good thing we didn’t try to fight them all head-on.”

Valfaris began to question the wisdom of their plan as she looked around the cavern they now found themselves in. A vast, artificial cave hundreds of feet across, with a partly-shattered crystal ball, about 150 feet in diameter, emitting a weak light that dimly illuminated the entire room.

Two hulking grey humanoids with stony grey skin turned to face the party. They each wielded a great hammer, and completely lacked a face, instead having a sharp-toothed maw where their stomachs should be.

A booming voice resounded throughout the caver, “Netheril shall rise once more!”

The two monsters rushed the party.

Chapter 9

“Once my labourers have finished excavating,” bellowed the old, robed man - evidently a wizard - as he rose into the air, “this part of Netheril shall rise once more!”

The two hulking monsters were sprinting directly toward Kovos and Valfaris, seeming to ignore the others for some reason. Savri melted into the shadows nearby, as Hocrelm stepped forward and drew a small, straight piece of iron from his component pouch. Holding the iron, he chanted incantations that Kovos recognised as those used for hold monster. Somehow, probably due to some sorcerous ability, the spell simultaneously targeted both creatures, as unseen power assaulted both of their minds.

And accomplished absolutely nothing.

Fortunately, they completely ignored Hocrelm, running past him to attack Kovos and Valfaris. The golden-skulled Demoux burst forth from the ground, grabbing one of them by the forearms and wrestling with it before it could reach Valfaris. The other ran toward Kovos, who had naturally taken this time to imbue his warclub with divine power and wreath himself in shadow. Unfortunately, this creature seemed to see right through Kovos’ illusion, and swung a giant hammer straight toward him.

Well that hardly seems fair.

The hammer slammed into Kovos’ shield, sending him flying a good twenty feet before slamming into the stony ground. Well accustomed to being pummelled so, he immediately rolled to his feet and called upon his patron to bring down magical columns of fire upon the monsters both.

Which accomplished nothing.

Are they immune to magic or something?

That thought of Kovos’ was immediately dispelled as he witnessed the magical construct Demoux clock one of them in the jaw, sending flakes of stone flying through the air. He also noticed that the creatures seemed to have been seared by the radiant power infused in his own spell, just not the fire.

“They’re immune to fire and enchantments,” he shouted, “and can see through illusions!”

A blast of thunder promptly engulfed Kovos, Demoux, and the two creatures, but like the fireball the previous day caused no harm to Kovos or Demoux. Indeed, once more felt urged on by the magic, and immediately smote his club into the nearest monster. Green fire leapt from his weapon as usual, doing no damage whatsoever to the target of his strike.

“I don’t know how much use my weapons are here, Hocrelm.” Kovos called, as he ducked backwards, just out of reach of a hammer blow.

As he continued to dodge out of the way of repeated attacks, Kovos saw Demoux’s form smashed by a mighty hammer strike, the skeleton’s golden skull dropping to the ground as its body vanished. Valfaris barely deflected a blow directed toward her with a shield spell, before adopting a similar tactic to Kovos.

Suddenly the world seemed to slow around Kovos, and he quickly realised that Hocrelm had laid a haste spell upon him. He immediately got to work repeatedly slamming his club into the monstrous form before him, trying to concentrate his minimal damage on one of its knees. At the same time, however, he noticed that Savri was moving at the same speed as him, seemingly also bolstered by Hocrelm’s spell. The half-elf proceeded to loose volley after volley of deadly-accurate arrows at the two creatures, focusing first on the one attacking Valfaris, before moving to strike the one still harrying Kovos.

In mere seconds, both of the monsters lay dead on the ground, half a quiver’s worth of arrows in each of them. Kovos took a moment to nod his respect to Hocrelm, who was suddenly bombarded by a barrage of magical bolts of force.

Kovos suddenly felt an immense wave of fatigue wash over him, falling to his knees as he saw Savri do the same, and as Hocrelm stumbled to the ground. Valfaris spun, returning fire against the wizard who now flew above them, but her firebolt impacted against an unseen cage of force surrounding her. At the same time, the doors through which the party had entered were thrown off their hinges, as the iron golems that had pursued them marched into the cavern.

“Is this all our pitiful adversaries can muster against us?” Gloated the wizard, as he floated to the ground. “Had it not been for the Phaerimm abominations, and that traitor Larloch, the whole of Toril would already be ours. But instead, we must once again dredge these enclaves into the sky, and let Netheril rise once again.”

Kovos was the first to pull himself from the ground, standing before the Netherese arcanist on shaky legs. “We have been quested to put an end to your evil plot.” He managed to say. “Call off your underlings and stand down, or we will be forced to resort to violence.”

The old man merely chuckled. “You think to halt the inevitable with mere words?”

“No,” Kovos muttered, “just slow it down a few seconds.”

Kovos spun to face the tightly-packed iron golems, encasing them in the same forcecage spell that has trapped Valfaris, just as she disintegrated it with her own magics. The arcanist attempted to counter Kovos’ spell, but was in turn countered by Valfaris. While he was distracted by this, Hocrelm used his sorcerous abilities to hold him, and Savri loosed an arrow, knocking his wizard’s staff from his now-frozen hands.

A swarm of furious gnolls then began to rush into the room behind the iron golems, but elected to halt their advance after two of their number were cut down by a celestial guardian summoned by Kovos immediately after he caged the golems. The other three adventurers then surrounded the old man, weapons and foci at the ready.

The arcanist looked around, assessing his situation, before announcing in the same arrogant tone as before, “I am prepared to negotiate terms of surrender.”

Epilogue

Baron Wislaw I “The Magnanimous” Jansobski, lord of Nightstone and Protector of the Ardeep, sat atop the throne in his keep’s hall, listening to the same petition he had heard the previous ten days.

“My lord,” spoke the peasant, “the Pinemantles have been gravely trespassing against the very laws which you instituted to protect your people.”

Well, “listening” was a strong word. That Baldurian better not have gotten himself killed. Same goes for the others, for that matter.

“They have been keeping no less than three pigs in their property within the walls of Nightstone itself!”

At least giving the Gondian cabal that ribald should keep them off my back for a while.

“As you well know, my lord, each family is only allowed to keep one pig at a time, and for good reason, might I say!”

Eventually - mercifully - the commoner was interrupted by the return of the four adventurers he had sent to deal with that excavation site. They spoke for a long time thereafter, and Wislaw made sure to make arrangements for the freed slaves to be returned to their homes, and deal with the various prisoners. As he had expected, Kovos insisted on destroying much of what the arcanist had uncovered; years of valuable research wasted in a misguided attempt to protect people.

Doesn’t he realise that the more we know, the more we have with which to help others?

Regardless, Wislaw had anticipated this. And so, after providing a reasonable reward to the adventurers, and seeing them on their way, he met back in his keep with Hocrelm.

“What were you able to recover?” He asked the sorcerer.

“Well, my lord,” replied Hocrelm, “that Netherese mage kept a logbook, detailing his efforts to restore that… mythallar, I believe it was called.”

“And you have it with you?” Wislaw exclaimed, a bit too excitedly.

“Of course. I have it right here.” Hocrelm produced a simple, but well-maintained tome from his pack, and handed it to Wislaw.

“Know that you have served not only me, but all the people of Faerûn this day.” Greed and ambition began to encroach upon Wislaw’s heart, as he considered the wealth of knowledge that must be contained within these pages. “You have more than earned your reward. I hope the people of Baldur’s Gate will equally appreciate your efforts when you are raised to nobility.

For I know for a fact that the people of Nightstone will come to appreciate these efforts.

End.