The Branchalites go East

Chapter 52: A Preponderance of Preparation

Michelle sat at a table with Sarah, Darlene and Aaden, an hour or so after most of the customers had retired for the evening. Earlier in the evening, Sarah, Darlene and Michelle had entertained the crowd with song and dance, but now they were taking their ease with a tankard of warmed, spiced mead. Michelle's afternoon had been consumed by taking notes and assisting Aylmar in the meeting with the defense force leaders. Tedium and pomp were an integral part of a Solamnic's life, but even Sir Zaccarius appeared to be on the verge of screaming in frustration. The mayor wanted the cheapest route to everything, no matter how much it might compromise security and defense. It had taken a concerted effort from the Legion representatives and the extreme diplomacy of the Solamnics to wring a few concessions out of the mayor, and then only after those two organizations had agreed to fund most of the measures themselves. Michelle was hoping she could rely on Falin's generosity when he returned because she couldn't front all of the funds necessary.

She'd settled at the Sunken Ship to wait for Stura's return. Entertaining had taken her mind off their danger and focused her on bringing joy to others for a few hours, but at midnight the bar tender closed the venue for regular customers. Sarah, Darlene and Michelle had acknowledged that exhaustion might be reducing their impact a little. At Michelle's request, the bar tender had not locked the main entry, so that the patrol under the city could return to the tavern without access issues. Food and mead had been a welcome solace, but it had also permitted Michelle's thoughts to stray to the various ongoing missions. Kellet out west somewhere. Jeremy and Liam to the northwest, on the Plains of Solamnia. Falin to whoever knew where the gold dragons were hiding. Danzuza to Shrentak for various bits and pieces the city and its defenders needed. And of course, the plucky aghar lady and three mercenaries.

The slamming of the door and a staggering Stura announced the group's return. Concern laced the features of Stura's companions, but while Stura's gait and slurred speech was indicative of a patron that had overstayed their tolerance at a tavern, Michelle suspected the team had run into something in the tunnels that had induced an unusual condition in the gully dwarf. The four were ruffled and smelled like they'd crawled through the sewers and climbed up through the latrine pit. Each one had armor that was in some state of disrepair and grime and muck clung to their clothes. Stura stumbled up to the table and gave Michelle a bright grin. "We're back!"

Michelle glanced at the others, noting that Verhanna was her normal size and shape, with her regular gear. "What happened?" Sarah was already standing and moving around to Stura, her regard critical, analytical, clinical. She stooped down, settling on one knee in front of Stura and peered into her face.

"I believe it was an undead known as a remnant. Some powerful, black robed wizard from antiquity that was overwhelmed by a surge in magic, causing her death. Part of the Kharolis empire. A country estate for the wizard before her demise." Verhanna's tone was grave.

Sarah's expression reflected her recognition. "I can fix this," she assured Michelle. Her hand dipped into a pouch and she sprinkled what appeared to be diamond dust over the aghar, whilst singing a healing blessing from Branchala. The aghar's expression became more serious and she blinked as her cognition was restored. She didn't appear willing to speak on her experiences. Yet.

Michelle turned her regard back to Verhanna, who appeared to be the most knowledgeable of the team on the matter. Michelle suspected the bard would enjoy regaling them with the tale, and while it might be embellished a little, she'd get more of the facts from her. "Report," was Michelle's curt instruction, with a somber expression on her features.

Verhanna took a deep breath, inclined her head, and murmured to the group at Michelle's table. "We gathered before midday and ventured below, locating the Pland clan and thence into the tunnels that lead west. Jetta informed us that we were about three hundred feet below the surface. The tunnels formed part of the road network laid down in the original Kharolis empire, somehow preserved through the cataclysm. They had a ceiling around five feet in height, so I assumed the form of a neidar to accommodate the environment without requiring extra equipment. We'd wandered for about an hour when we encountered the anomaly. Rusty had been scouting ahead and reported to us that he'd spied a translucent figure in torn, hooded black robes with a ghostly glowing skull in place of a face. Colored lights looped out of the body through the holes in the robes, and it had no hands, just torn gloves. It floated rather than walked. I didn't recognize it from the description, but we agreed that it was the beast that kept the Pland from the tunnel. It infested a region where the ceiling was more appropriate for humans. Even higher in a few places."