22nd Day of the Arc of Halail

Beaten and battered after their many subterranean encounters, the comrades breathed a moment before continuing their questing of Arla Dell.  The slippery agent of questionable loyalty gave little more of valuable information, forcing Sigrun and Ramirez to venture up through the kitchens and into the first floor of the bordello.  They moved quickly and with purpose, moving towards Arla’s offices in search of clues as to the jungle elf’s fate.

Through the door from the street below burst a fist of orcs, intent upon some nefarious purpose; herding the “ladies” of the house, the foul soldiers began a chaotic search.  Not looking for a confrontation, the Dorn and Sarcosan turned and retraced their steps. 

Just as the two scouts were returning to the others, something strange began to happen to Sigrun.  “Her” appearance morphed before the Sarcosan’s very eyes, leaving a street tough’s form and shape.  Not having time to inquire of this brawny man, Ramirez continued to dog his steps and attempt to avoid the notice of the orcs.  But just as they gained the “safety” of the kitchens, an orcish bark pierced the tumult of the Tussle-House.  Not waiting to see what would come next, the two hastened to the secret door and opened it to descend below.  Three orcs followed close behind and the shouts of others could be heard.

Meanwhile the others began to search the doors of the cellar, where they found first contraband elves.  On the verge of death, one of them indicted Arla Dell for her loss of faith, her profiteering and lack of scruples.  Croaking out a call to find her treasure, the warriors opened the next door find a cache of weapons.  With disgust, these resistance fighters rebuked the turncoat whose only loyalty seemed to be to herself.

But before more could be said or done, Below, the remaining warriors awaited the rush of Shadow-sworn; they were not disappointed.  The clash of sword and vardatch rang against the rough hewn walls of the secret cellar.  As they fought, the emaciated elves fled out the back, either carried or pushed in retreat.

Sealing the doors, they waited but a moment know that more orcs would follow.  The story that Arla Dell had told, that Jedekahl must be moving back towards the docks was almost believed, until they party spied a token of the Danisil floating down from path that led in a completely different direction.  Knowing that they had to doubt everything that she had told them, they moved off with Harkush, their sewer guide.  Finding a place of relative safety, they questioned this stranger in their midst.

He explained that Sigrun was truly dead, dead the night she slayed the Captain of the Crown Guard.  Bronn, for that was the name he gave, was ordered to take her place, learn what he could of the resistance and the competing factions of the Shadow.  His final mission was to be the slaughter of the party.  But Bronn was on the lookout for his own well being and decided instead to flee the service of his twisted masters in Baden’s Bluff.  With his intentions clear, the group decided to remain together for now as they looked for their lost elf.

They left the elves under Harkush’s care and continued to track the steps leading upwards towards the Crown.  They located a ladder and broken sewer cover, but just as they climbed the ladder the sounds of stone and metal could be heard further up the sewer passage.  With little preparation they group dashed towards the noise, only to see a gated passage and a cloaked figure before it.  Their intuition was as shabby as ever as they approached the figure, calling gently with feeble attempts to parlay.  As the figure slowly turned, this glowing red eyes were enough to tell them that nothing but pure evil animated such a creature.  But before they could gather themselves for this fight, a wave of bowel-loosening fear washed over them; the lesser two, Bronn and Elenon, could not withstand the blast and dropped their weapons in abject cowardice as they soiled themselves.

The final battle pitted Ramirez and Naurdil against this fell caster.  Elenon and Bronn fled in fear, unmanned by the overwhelming dread that emanated from this cloaked figure.  Ramirez rained arrows upon the creature as the Caransil closed for melee.  The fight raged back and forth, but the fates seemed stacked against the two.  Pierced by the glaring red eyes, hatred for all the living, this undead fiend battered Naurdil into unconsciousness and beyond.  Dead for all intents and purposes, somehow this elf was able to do what his weaker-blooded brethren could not—he stood up to the Shadow and seemed to lay down his life.  Ramirez dropped his bow and finished the foul creature, releasing its evil menace.