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Magpie woke feeling worse than when their eyes had closed. For a second, they wondered if they'd really slept or just closed their eyes. A look a the window confirmed the gray of predawn peeking through. Blinking blearily, the dragonborn was tempted to roll over and pull the covers higher. Which is exactly what happened. Covers sliding over weary head with a quiet groan.

They'd barely settled in place before something thumped onto the covers. Qistling gave a croak and bounced on the covers with little pit pats of feet. A groan came from the dragonborn, but the raven wasn't going anywhere. Just bouncing and stamping along their side.

"Fine," Magpie groaned, "here." The blanket barely lifted before the raven darted under to press against the sorcerer's body. What is wrong? The idea pressed against the raven as Magpie rubbed its back. A croak came from the darkness, followed by images of the guards practically hovering over Magpie all night long. Qistling didn't sleep, but he liked to pretend he did. And their routine had disturbed his fake-sleeping. That was strange, must have been more worn out than expected. Usually someone moving that close by would have woken Magpie. Qistling groaned happily as a talon found a spot that needed some good scratching. The question of if there was anything else happening was pressed.

Feathers ruffled against scales as Qistling shared some more memories. Hopping down mere minutes before the dragonborn woke. Qistling followed a guard outside so he could stretch his wings a bit. He'd made a lap around the estate before spotting some carts and new guards waiting outside under cover of dawn.

Who would be lining up carts this early? Obviously something that they didn't want the populous to get riled about. Magpie was waking up more now, letting these questions roll about their head.

Which meant that Qistling felt the thoughts as well. Images of a mouse in plate armor were presented proudly. Magpie offering a silent question to the fae about why he was so proud of this. Qistling uttered a rude croak and nipped at a finger. A silent chide for Magpie forgetting the mouse was followed by images of her from the night before.

That's right. She'd been following him and the Steward around the keep last night. Who was she? Magpie wasn't familiar with the Amatta military ranks or insignia, but her armor and poise was enough to give the impression of someone important.

Which meant Magpie would probably need pants at the very least.

A sigh heaved from the dragonborn as shoulders squared. Dropping into the persona of Graf even as covers were lifted. Up came the simplest of illusions, giving him a modicum of privacy. He still had his robe on from the night before, but there were things that couldn't be done with clothes on. Namely wrapping his chest up to disguise his breasts. Easier to endure having them pressed down than to explain why Graffion DeLuc, third son of the Archduke of Amatta, potential Lost Heir of the Lunar Protectorate, had tits.

With a decade in this disguise under his belt, it was a simple matter to wrap up, even solo and hampered by the illusion. Be much easier if he could just drop the pretense, but... no. Strange as it might sound, he wasn't that comfortable as who he was born as. Easy enough to see why though. Martigan had insisted on changing names and identities as many times as possible. They'd gone to inns under so many different names that it was impossible to keep track of a tenth of them. That old kenku had a talent for picking names to use, probably having heard them throughout the day. It was only when they were in complete privacy that whatever persona of the day was dropped and either one of them could simply be who they were.

But who was Magpie? That question was bothering him more and more of late. Ask the dragonborn about any of their 'fake' identities and they could list off anything needed. Favorite color, preferred foods, phobias, siblings, education, everything. Magpie? Magpie couldn't give a name for either parent.

Graf shook his head to be rid of such thoughts. They were distracting and not what was needed right now. An existential crisis would have to wait a few more days at least.

Looking at his clothing, the noble made a note that perhaps a second set would be a good idea. He had his usual wear, which had been mended several times now. Clean clothing was better than perfect clothing. At least until he got to a tailor and procured another outfit or two. Besides, by the sounds of things, an adventure was around the corner and he didn't want to get his good clothes all mussed. So it was on with the older outfit. The cold wouldn't bother him much, it rarely did.

Dressed and with everything covered, Graf allowed the illusion to drop away. Straightening his scarf and checking the fit of the Conduit in the pocket. A part screamed to keep it hidden, but regardless of where these trials were being held, it'd be better to use it. If people were watching, then making use of the item would further cement his claims. Qistling's wings fluttered as he made for the door. Raven lighting on his shoulder with practiced ease.

He was making for the dining area when Eskel shuffled up, "The Colonel wants to see you." The badger was a bit rumpled, but looked about as alert as always.

Before Graf could ask who this Colonel was, that mouse came around the corner. "Greetings, Sire." Heels clapped together as she offered a sharp bow. "Colonel Aegis." One which Graf returned with every ounce of grace offered. "My apologies for showing up at such an early hour, but we have a long day ahead of us. It'd be best if we start as soon as your party is ready."

The temptation to send Qistling in as a wake up alarm was tempting. "Graffion DeLuc," he stopped just short of adding 'of Amatta' figuring it was a bit much at the moment. "Then we should make sure they're awake." He couldn't start turning before the mouse nodded at Eskel, the badger excusing himself to head into the sleeping area. "He might need help with Grig, he's a rather heavy sleeper. And Pickle is best woken gently." Brow arched sympathetically, "I'd hate for Eskel to get punched in the throat just because he woke her a little too vigorously."

Arms crossed behind her back in a gentle rest, the mouse giving the taller dragonborn a steady look. "I trust Eskel, Sire." Her eyes darted to the door as something crashed on the other side. "It is my duty and pleasure to escort you to the proving grounds. My only regret is that I have to inform you that the Lord Steward will not be joining us." Graf's brow arched in a silent question. "I will explain along the way, Sire."

He gave a nod, "I trust that something will be provided in the form of breakfast? We must have our strength, after all."

"Of course," her reply was immediate. "While it's not a royal meal, we do have a hearty breakfast waiting in the cart." An ear twitched at the sound of rummaging coming from the other room followed by a heavy thud at the door. It banged a couple more times before a very weary Corrine stumbled out. Pickle following behind the squirrel druid. Graf took the opportunity to look over the mouse. Her posture, stance, even the polish on her armor speaking of someone who took pride in their station. The wear on her scabbard and air about her saying her station wasn't simply ceremonial.

Corrine shuffled behind the tall dragonborn, "Graf, What's going on?" she asked nervously, eyes darting from the noble dragonborn to the guard before him.

A nod, "Corrine, Pickle, might I introduce Colonel Aegis of the Moonsteppe guard." She offered a bow to the pair, "She shall be escorting us to the trial grounds." A thud came from the sleeping area before Grig stumbled out with a grumble, "And this is Grig."

It took a while before everyone was out of bed, dressed, and escorted out to the carts. Amber electing to stay behind with Floof so she could get to work on processing the opaline they had collected the day before. Naturally, Graf was worried about leaving the money-obsessed dwarf with an unknown amount of a rare resource. Yoren offered to stay behind as well to make sure that the estate stayed secured since they were leaving some belongings there.

With everything settled, they started off. Aegis wedging herself into the cart with the party. "Again, I apologize for getting everyone out at this early hour." She produced a basket from under bench and began to pass out pastries, "Fresh from the keep. We have some tea as well, but it might have cooled."

Graf was waiting to see if Jynx would dig in, the tabaxi looking rather worse for wear. The urge to try and comfort the wizard spiked, but was tamped back as the mouse leaned forward and started.

"We are taking you to the Royal Graveyard, it's just outside of the city proper." Her eyes fixed on Graf, "There's a place there, kind of a catacomb, which were used as the trial grounds for the royal heirs. I don't know what they did there or what the trials involved. What I do know is that some two decades ago, the heirs went in there and," her hands lifted, "they vanished. Parties were sent to find them, but most of them didn't return either. Those that did spoke of some corruption plaguing the place. So it was sealed up. There is a side entrance which you should be able to use."

Graf nodded and nibbled at the edge of a pastry, since everyone else had dug into them. Either they were safe, or everyone would be poisoned. "I am surprised that Lord Steward Karuth isn't here to see us off," he mused over his mug of tea.

Aegis bristled slightly, "Due to the... situation involving Everette, the Lord Steward is under house arrest until the situation is resolved." Meaning either the city guard had to find Everette, or they would have to. Fingers tapped together as she leaned forward, "It's a rather unfortunate situation, but there is no helping it." She was silent for a moment as the cart rumbled on.

Clearing her throat, she continued. "What we would like to have happen is for your party to clear out the catacombs." Her eyes lifted to lock on Graf, "Find whatever is causing this corruption and stop it. As an additional thing." Eyes darted briefly to Pickle and Corrine, "There is a very rare fungus that grows in the trial grounds. It has been used in a ceremonial sake for generations. If you could procure some samples of the fungus then I am certain the royal brewers would be exceedingly grateful."

Enter some abandoned catacombs, find something down there causing something bad, and if they had time retrieve an important item. He was starting to get too accustomed to hearing that. Which was a strange experience. Some months ago, Graffion had done all he could to avoid anything even remotely dangerous. Sure, he was part of the odd hunt here, fending off bandits there, but he'd gone out of his way to avoid situations like this. Guess getting popped into another plane of existence tended to change things.

Fingers tapped on a knee as he thought. Qistling hopping to his thigh and looking from the pastry up to Graf with a caw. "What?" Wings began to pump as the familiar croaked at him repeatedly. "Oh, now you're a baby bird, is that it?" He sighed and broke off a piece, offering it to his familiar. "Is there anything we should be aware of? Are you going to be accompanying us?" Qistling began to call again, but was silenced with a gentle push from the sorcerer.

The colonel shook her head, "I've told you all I know. We honestly don't have a lot of information about the trial grounds for obvious reasons. As for me, the guards and I will remain outside and wait for you to return." No question on if they would, she sounded certain that they would. Did she believe in them? In him? It was an unusual feeling.

Silenced rained until the carts came to a halt and soldiers shuffled outside. "We're here." the party stuffed pastries into mouths, downed tea, and Grig shoved a couple extra into his pockets. For once, Graf did the same, offering Qistling a bite or two as the raven settled onto his shoulder again.

Colonel Aegis glanced at the party from the ring of soldiers before turning to point, "There. By the crypt itself. That building is the entrance to the trial grounds." The carts had stopped on a hill overlooking an ancient cemetery. Fog clung to ever surface and they could make out several shapes moving through among the crypts and monuments. Graf's skin crawled with the knowledge that every solider there was watching him with anticipation.

Grig's armor rattled as the bear began to move. Graf's longer legs stretching out as the dragonborn lead the way down the hill, feeling every inch an insane person for taking the lead.

The burst of energy only carried Graf so far. He slowed down and allowed the party to catch up. Eyes narrowing as he watched shapes moving through the mist and shifted around the graveyard. Graveyard and unidentified shapes? Graf glanced towards Grig and saw the bear tighten his grip on his ax as he took lead. A quick look towards the guards as they waited by the carts. While most were moving to set up a loose perimeter, Aegis remained at loose attention at the head of the path.

A strange creature moved through the graveyard, sliding towards them with low noises. Grig lifted his ax and took a step back. As he did, something fell from his pocket. One of the countless tidbits of food he tended to carry around fell from his pocket. The creature snorted and charged, their cleric falling back a half-step.

It snapped up the food and began to snuffle around for more. Grig cast a glance towards the rest of the party. Sliding his ax into his belt, he drew out a bit of food and threw it away. The thing snapped around and took off with a snort, chasing down the food. The cleric looked at the party and motioned for them to keep moving, all while he occasionally tosses another bit of something or other towards the creature.

Graf breathed out a quiet sigh, breath curling in streamers before him. The dragonborn kept an eye on their cleric as they moved, watching other creatures shambling about in the distance. Grig caught up with them rather quickly, falling into step beside as they approached the side entrance.

Once again, the bear moved forward and tried the stone door. Heavy bar being drawn back before the male heaved and groaned, putting his entire body into drawing it open. Rusty hinges resisted moving. Metal groaning and creaking before cracking as rust began to give way. The bear huffing as feet skidded on the ground before catching at the corner of a flagstone. Armor rattled as he growled and pulled, fighting against the stubbornness of metal and stone.

The door just began to give way when something slammed against it, knocking Grig back a step. A creature simply falling out of the door and slamming into the flagstones with a groan. It wore some sort of strange leather suit and hood. Sickly greenish ichor leaking from rips in the suit and from the hood's glass eyepieces.

When it didn't lunge to attack, the bear simply moved to nudge it out of the doorway with an, "Excuse me. Just let me slip on past, Thank you."

A groan came from the entity as it was nudged out of the way, simply flopping down the steps. Party members moving aside as it tumbled to stop. Graf's brow arched at it, "Well, doesn't seem overly hostile." It started to stir and groan as the party filed into the room. "Watch the door for us, please and thank you." Good heavens, the bear was rubbing off on him. Next thing you knew, he'd be stashing away snacks for later.

Once they were inside, the door was pulled shut with a bang, leaving them in darkness. It was easy enough to locate Grig. Graf brushing fingers across his lips and breathed. A mote of frost clinging to his talon. Reaching out, he rubbed it on the cleric's shield. Bluish-white light sparking from the item until it was glowing steadily, lighting their path downwards. "Thank you, Graf," Grig uttered before starting down the stairs. Rajan following, with Pickle then Corrine behind.

Graf hesitated at the top of the stairs a moment before something slammed against the door. "Roger, it's a pull door, not a push." Qistling croaked and pressed to his neck. Something about this place was making the dragonborn feel uneasy. "Want to stay out?" the question was simple, one always offered to the raven. Lately, he'd opted for staying on the sorcerer's shoulder, but this time the answer was a firm yes. Graf exhaled and felt a small pop from his shoulder as the raven vanished. He could still feel Qistling, but his familiar was in a pocket dimension somewhere else. Waiting for him to call him back to this plane.

"Lookout!" Grig's voice rang from below. Followed quickly by the sound of fighting. Graf jolted, fear racing up his spine as he hurried to meet up with the party.

Several more of those hooded creatures were shuffling towards them. As well as skeletons that glowed with a strange, greenish blue light. Hallways split off in several directions, but Graf couldn't see anything down them. Which meant everything was ahead.

Grig, Rajan, and Pickle were locked up with several creatures. Swords clashing and ax singing as abominations called out. Jynx lifted his hands, sparks of flame hitting one creature. Corrine lifting hers and sending out lances of flame to another. He took everything in a second. Conduit almost leaping to his hand as he lifted and aimed. Cold surging through his body and lancing into a one of the suited creatures. It rocked back as frost spread across its body, slowing its movements.

Eyes darted as more creatures started down the halls. Graf registering something big coming up from his right. Out to his left, something moved in the darkness and hurled something towards the party. Grig cursing as it slammed into him and hissed off his armor.

With most of the known threats coming from the left, Graf shifted and lifted the conduit again. Power swirling through his body as he hissed. In the darkness, he could feel the air start to swirl and match that maelstrom within him. His voice broke into a bellow, matched by the roar of the storm that surrounded that thing in the dark. Power surged and flowed through the dragonborn, Conduit shifting ever so slightly to one of the suited zombies. Light bloomed within the storm before lancing out with a sharp CRACK of thunder. The creature stumbling with a groan, electricity crawling along its body as the leather suit smoked from where it was struck.

Fire, ice, axes, and fists flew. Creatures snarling and lashing out with glowing hands or chipped and broken weapons. Graf could feel the raging storm continue to pull at his core, lifting the Conduit to guide another spell.

Then a fist slammed into his side.

A monstrosity had thundered up from the right hall and decided the dragonborn looked like he needed a decking. Graf focused on breathing, keeping that spell pulsing in time with his heartbeat as his head spun. Rajan surged past the sorcerer, literally dancing as his blade flashed in the mage light. "Do you have two left feet, or just mutated that way. Oh you did... huh."

Staggering to his feet, the dragonborn found himself reaching for another spell, then stopping. It had been something he'd come up with some time ago and, while it was amusing to have a giant earthen hand form to grab something, he'd have to abandon the storm to use it. And the creature looked far too large to restrain that way. Shaking his head, he brought the conduit up and snapped off a shot. Air cooling into a blazing white line that snapped against the creature. Flicking his hand out, he looked the other way and called on the storm again. Thunder rumbling down the hall as another bolt struck a creature.

Combat was quick and vicious, as it was want to be. By the end of it, Corrine had summoned a spirit she often used. The strange mousy thing glowing impossibly bright as it floated around. As off-putting as the thing was, the healing light it put out was welcome. Graf's dizziness fading, but the throbbing in his head lingering after. That was a problem with magical healing. It took ones mind a moment to realize that the physical injury was gone.

Graffion rubbed his aching head, examining his surrounding as they moved deeper. It certainly looked like a catacombs. He only had a couple other instances to compare it to. One does not make a habit out of prowling about graveyards unless invited. And Graf had been invited to several when he happened to be in an area when a funeral was being held. A noble, even a third son, who was handsome and could put on a proper mourning face was wanted more often than some cared to admit. They all seemed to be built along the same lines. Just statues, graves, and various reliefs changing from one place to the next.

There was something about this place though. It wasn't the undead issue, unnerving as that was. There was something else. A strange heat in the air, some sort of tingle racing over his scaled hide, and a strangely coppery taste to the air. Graf allowed his fingers to trail over some faded carving as he followed the party deeper.

Grig was first into a larger chamber, holding his shield higher to cast light about the room. Rubble and debris were strewn about. A sunken area holding some form of slime that was roiling and popping. Now that they were in the room, Graf recognized that pool as where he'd centered his storm sphere. As if the ooze scattered about hadn't been a clear enough indication. His nose wrinkled slightly as he skirted the pool to follow the group.

A pair of podiums flanked the pool. Each topped with a dial and numbers. Grig ambled over to one and gave it a spine. The dial clicking nicely. "What could these be?" Rajan muttered, trying the other to no avail.

The bear grumbled, "Some sort of combination?" He spun the dial back and forth a few times. Perhaps seeing if his illicit childhood could gain him any insight.

"Found something," Pickle called out, kneeling beside a desiccated body. The half-kobold nudging a strangely glowing syringe. "Looks like drugs." Rummaging through the pockets, she fished out a letter. "Grig, get a bit of light?"

Graf hovered nearby, examining the room as she began to read the letter. "The presence has broken through to these upper layers."_Her voice echoed through the room,"We've caved in the lower levels to mitigate, but as of now our situation is dire. We were able to formulate inoculations against the poisonous aura and deliver them via syringes,"all eyes fell on the glowing syringe Pickle held;"but the presence has gone sentient and I fear the creatures will take us if the aura does not. I've sealed the exit to the upper floor and rendered the key amulet unusable in the door; it is best this contamination does not spread."_

At the mention of an amulet, Pickle checked the body again. It took a moment of searching before she lifted the item. A rather uniquely shaped amulet made of opaline, but someone had drizzled gold all over it. Thick blobs of the precious metal rendering it apparently useless for its intended function. "Graf?" She offered it out to the dragonborn. He took it with a slight nod, rolling the amulet around in his hand for a moment. It felt... heavy? Not physically heavy, but the weight of something that held importance.

Pushing the thought aside, he muttered a thanks to Pickle as he threaded it over his head. She nodded and continued, "They said during one's trials, one should look beyond the four walls that enclose you in times of crisis."_Graf began to move quietly around the room, eyes on a door nearby. _"I think I can hear the truth as to what they meant by that,"_his head began to throb, _"but I fear that advice is all too late for me..." Pickle trailed off," It ends there."

Graf's head felt like it was pulsing. There was something he couldn't quite feel or make out. It was hard to tell just what it was. He snorted and shook his head again, trying to focus on the door, fingers tracing the hole meant to hold the amulet. That thrumming wouldn't fade though. He could feel his heart and mind pounding in time with it. "Do you guys feel that?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Corrine was rubbing her ears, "Yeah, it sounds like..."

"Music?" Pickle angled her head. "Wait... I think I know that." Foot tapped on the ground as she began to hum along with it, "An old song though..."

Jynx was nodding, "I think I know it too," the tabaxi and kobold humming it together for a moment.

That moment was enough, "Oh!" Pickle yelped as she launched herself upright. "Fourty-Two and Six!" She was a green blur across the room. Grappling a dial and swinging herself around the podium as she turned it. "Someone turn the other one to six."

Rajan was the first one over, "Why don't we turn it to zero? If it's forty-six, then shouldn't that one be four?"

Graf braced a hand on the pillar, his head feeling as if it were about to split open. "Whatever you two are doing, might want to hurry!" Teeth ground as he pointed towards the pool. "Looks like our friend is coming back." The slime was rolling and surging. Burbling angrily as it lifted from the surface.

Pickle snapped her number around, "Turn it to six!"

Rajan snarled, "Turn yours to four."

A hiss sounded from the monk as she raced around the pool, "I'll turn the fucking thing!" She bellowed. Slapping the half-elf's hand away before spinning the dial.

The slime thing let out a burbling screech and extended a psuedopod towards the pair.

Some mechanism came to life with a thud and a grinding, making the creature freeze. The entire floor shook for an instant before it screamed. Slimy tendrils slapping at the stonework as a grate opened and began to drain away the mess. The bellowing nearly made Graf wretch, clinging to a pillar as the entity was drained away down some dark pit.

"I told you it was Six!"

With whatever that thing was handled and the grate sealed up, they agreed that now might be a good chance to take a moment to breathe. Graf propped his back against a pillar and sank to his rump slowly. Knees drawing up closer to his chest as he stared blankly ahead. The party milled about the room. Corrine peering down into the drained pit. Pickle had found a bit of the mold they were supposed to be looking for. She'd taken a sizable sample before setting in for a little meditation. Rajan was tending to his weapon. Grig nibbling on some snack of unknown age. Jynx reading over something scribbled on papers and muttering to himself. And Graf?

A quiet sigh heaved from Graf as he tried his best to relax. Soon they'd move deeper and continue this trial. A trial to prove that he was worthy to rule. Strange affair if you ask him. The whole thing was making him feel uneasy.

No... it wasn't that they were in some catacomb or that there were twisted monstrosities about. He had become weirdly accustomed to them. Up to the point where he could rest regardless of what was nearby. No, it was something else that was unsettling him. Something that was shaking him to the very core of who he was.

He was afraid.

Not for himself. He was a survivor and would always find some way out of situation Even if it meant abandoning everything he had. Graffion had done it before, leaving town with nothing, not even the clothes on his back. Each time he'd come back fine.

This fear was different. He was worried for his companions.

Sensing his unease, Qistling's mind pressed to his with a soft beckoning. Without thinking, the dragonborn called to his familiar, the raven appearing on his knee with a soft pop. A croak came from the familiar as it hopped closer, worry tinging the fae creature's thoughts. Maybe a good scratching would make him feel better. Graf's hand moving on its own to rub the raven familiar's keel bone as he looked over the rabble he'd become a part of.

After everything he'd been through over the last few months, he was afraid of something happening to them. In way, it was laughable. For over a decade, nearly half his life, he'd traveled on his own. Moving from one place to another without truly caring for those he met and spent time with. They were just entities. Vaguely remembered people who he'd used and discarded as needed.

Now?

"It was just over ten years ago." His voice broke the silence. "I was traveling with Martigan, a kenku I called my father. He was a friend of my mother and took care of me for as long as I could remember, his final promise to her. I don't even know how old I was when she passed. I have only the vaguest memories of her. Never met my father, not even Martigan knew who it was." Shoulders rolled in a shrug, "Lest if he did, he never told me."

A quiet chuckle, "One of our rules was that Martigan almost always lied, so who knows. He wasn't what one would consider a great father. He's the one that taught me to lie, cheat, fake who I am. How to wear a mask to fool the world into siding with me. Tried to teach me to use his sword, but when I began to show magic, he said I should learn that because it's what my mother used." Looking back, it was hard to tell if Martigan had been a good caretaker or not.

Eyes closed and he leaned his head back against the wall, feeling that mask crumbling. And for once, Magpie didn't care.

Magpie kept talking, knowing that if they stopped now they wouldn't have the courage to start again. "It was ten years ago that Martigan and I were running a con. The Big one. One that would net us a small fortune. See, we had a crate with some magical junk that we were selling. Nothing worth selling on its own. Just that one simple crate shoved into a warehouse."

A smile crossed their lips, "The manifests said we had several more crates. All stacked nice and neat next to ours. The paperwork was all good and the workers didn't know any better. How lucky we were that our stack of junk was next to a shipment of magical weapons and armor." How lucky indeed. "We were selling them to a very interested party. Narzire."

The name made Magpie's face screw up, leaving a taste more vile than that poison-induced vomit. Qistling hopping closer to press his head against the dragonborn's neck with a croon. He hugged the raven to his chest as he rocked back.

"We were worried that Narzire would grow wise and have one of his Firebrands check on the crates. Maybe get the foreman involved. So we... Martigan arranged a distraction." Magpie's voice rose, softened and grew a refined edge that spoke of higher education. "Sweet, innocent Valnys. The sheltered merchant's daughter. She was mighty flattered, and a tad flustered, by Narzire's rather heavy-handed advances." The voice dropped and Magpie's head nearly sank to their knees.

A hollow pit formed in their gut, "It was only natural that I distract him." A decade later and the memories of that night still made Magpie's throat tighten. Nightmares of that evening and morning still haunted their dreams.

Magpie swallowed around the lump, "We made the deal the next morning and moved on. When Martigan found out what happened, had to talk him into not turning around and teaching Narzire a lesson. I just wanted to put as much distance between myself and that," they flung out a hand, "person as possible."

Their voice was barely above a whisper. "I have a child." A bitter laugh, "Narzire and I have a child. I don't know if it's a son or daughter. I left the egg with a church of Lathander. Ironic, isn't it?" Magpie's vision wavered at the edges. Whatever weariness that was making them spill their most closely held secrets to the group also wearing down their barriers. "Martigan and I fought about it. He wanted to raise my child, take care of it. It was family. His kid's kid. I..." Head ducked to hide the tears that began to spill. "I wanted my child to have a better life. I didn't want it to go hungry, wondering when the next meal would come, or if there would be an actual bed that night.

"I left Martigan that night. Told him I needed some time to myself and that I would meet him back at the Roost in a few months. I took some money and," hand rolled to show off the signet ring. "Said he won it in a card game whenever I asked. Thought it was strange he never sold it. When I brought it up, he'd always said it would come in handy later. That's where Graffion came from." Memories rushed back, weeks of travel, countless hours in libraries, officials bribed, all to craft a single identity.

"When I got back to the Roost, I found out that Martigan had gone to pay Narzire back for what he did to me." Magpie had only missed the news because it never reached the courts where Graffion frequented. But when the third son would 'stoop' to regular taverns, it was hard to find a place where there weren't tales being spun of the mad kenku that had challenged the great Narzire only to wind up pinned to a city wall. A cautionary tale told in hushed whispers. Do not cross the Firebrands or you'd end up in the same shape.

"My stupidity and greed cost Martigan his life." It was a fact as far as Magpie was concerned. The sun will rise. The sky is blue. Their greed killed Martigan.

Head shook slowly, "If things get too bad down here, we are going to leave. Trials or not, I don't want..." Throat clamped on the sentence. Magpie stared ahead for a long moment, feeling more like the scared person they were ten years ago, than they had allowed themselves to feel in some time. Why were they even here? Because of some old ring and a trinket? What was the hope here? That they were something more than a bastard child? Who knew, because right now Magpie didn't.

Nor was it important, they tried to convince themselves. Magpie took a few breathes to steady themselves and tried to pull the mask back into place. It felt brittle, as if the slightest pressure would shatter. "Right," Graffion DeLuc said as he pushed himself to his feet. "Everyone feeling recharged?" The smile was there, but it felt empty. Quick wipes of his fingers brushing aside tears. "Shall we continue?" Still holding the raven, he looked down, "Back in the pocket or out?" A croak and push. He needed to stop and breathe, let the others help. "Okay."

Arms dropped and the raven popped back into that pocket dimension. "Sounds like those syringes are important. Should probably round up some more. Gonna start over there," he motioned towards a pile of rubble, starting off before a word could be said.

His escape was slowed as Grig stood up and wobbled. "Whoa..." the bear wobbled and braced himself, "Suddenly don't feel well..." He huffed, looking a bit strained. Graf's eyes widened as he spun around.

Jynx was looking a bit ill as well, the tabaxi huffing as he hunched forward. Rajan stood up and wobbled, catching himself with a shake of his head, "Whoa, that's not good." He laughed, rubbing a hand along his forehead, "Not feeling too good, yeah?"

They didn't even have to think about it, Pickle whipping her pack around and digging around. "Got three of those syringes," she explained. Graf could only remember the half-orc kobold having grabbed one, but the party had been roaming a bit. "Jynx," She called out.

"Yeah," The dark feline took the syringe and readily jabbed it into his arm. Huffing as that glowing goo was injected. "Huh..." he started after a moment, "Tastes like berry..." Face screwed up as his tongue worked, "Why do I taste berry?"

A dubious look crossed the bear's face, "I don't know if I... OW!" he jumped, twisting around to see Pickle's wide grin.

"We have three, so you're getting one."

Rajan backed up, "Oh no, I'm not getting one of those." He huffed, the elf-tabaxi bristling at the look of the syringe. "We need to save those just in case. What if Grig or someone else needs another shot before we're done here." Eyes rolled and the dragonborn turned to wander off. Tamping down that worry that had surged again at the possible risk to his fri...companion's lives. They seemed fine, if Rajan did seem to be strangely afraid of the needles.

Graf's ear frill twitched as they began to mutter among themselves. Steps slowed briefly before he clamped down hard. No. No, this was not the time to shatter. Keeping his head down, he stalked towards a stream of glowing goop. His eyes narrowing at the light and warmth that came off it, scanning the far side. There, among some rubble was a chest.

Scanning the rubble, he picked out a path that looked stable enough. Every instinct saying that glowing, warm goo wasn't something you wanted to stick your feet into.

Taking a breath, he circled the stuff and began to climb. "Three points of contact, Graffion," he reminded himself. He'd joined nobility on hunts often enough to know how to handle precarious terrain. Although there, a slip would merely net some damp clothes. Here, who knew?

Not falling would net him a chest though. Not a large one by any means, but secured with the same lock as that door. Meaning whatever was inside would possibly be valuable? Why was it stored here though? Had it belonged to some long forgotten noble, or perhaps the team that was sent down here? Was something to ponder on later though. Right now, the matter was how to get back across.

The chest wasn't heavy or large, merely awkward. Though the dragonborn already had a solution for carrying it back across.

A satchel of holding. Purchased many weeks ago and having proven worth it's carry weight in gold. Flipping open the bag, Graf placed the chest against the opening and pushed. Watching with delight as the container vanished into the depths until it was needed later.

Grinning, he stood up and settled the bag. "Oof, feeling heavy... Should empty it out before long." He muttered to no one in particular. Just throwing it back over his shoulder as he made the trip back across the pile. Heart jumping as the pile shifted, sending scree tumbling into the ooze. He scrambled to stay out of the splash zone.

Heart hammering away, Graffion rejoined the party. A few glances were spared his way, but quickly turned back to a chest that lay in the ooze. "How are we going to get that?" Corrine wondered, leaning forward. Grig's quick hand grabbing the druid before she went too far forward. "Sorry. So how are we going to get it?"

"I don't think I could launch it," Graf scratched his chin slowly. Thinking about the other chest, he shook his head, "No, wouldn't want to risk it anyway." Looking over, he hummed. "Corrine, what about your vines?"

Ears perked up, "Y-you think I can manage it?" Her whiskers twitched as she looked towards the chest.

Graf offered a smile, "I believe you can." Whether she could do it and not set the chest on fire was another matter all together. He'd never seen a druid so obsessed with, then terrified by, fire. Although he supposed he'd be terrified of ice if suddenly he woke up in a room that was covered in ice.

Pickle slipped up beside Corrine and wrapped an arm around the druid, whispering something into her ear. "O-okay." She offered a shaky smile and extended her arm. Light pulsed under her skin, flaring brighter with each beat before vines made of raw fire broke free and writhed away from her arm. The squirrel whimpered slightly, not out of pain, but rather from fear. Another whisper of encouragement from the monk made her nod and screw her face up in concentration.

The tendrils snapping out to wrap around the chest. Smoke curling from the wood as she rocked her entire body back. Heaving and straining as she drew it closer. The party backing up as it skidded and slipped through the sludge. When it was close enough, they grabbed and hauled it out.

Graf flashed a grin, "See, getting much better with that." His favorite spell came into play, magic brushing the stuff off the chest. Even through the magic it felt strange. Made him feel ill. Frowning, he cleaned it as quick as he could before it joined the other chest in the satchel. Sighing quietly as they moved deeper.

Pickle lifted her hand, "Shh..." Sounds of scuffling and raspy breathing from ahead. The monk dropping low. Easing her head around a corner. A questioning grunt had her draw back quickly. "Two zombies," she mouthed towards the party. "One syringe ahead," she slid closer to the others.

"So how are we going to get it?" Corrine whispered as well, whiskers and tail twitching. "I mean, we could do have a distraction."

Graf shook his head slowly, "I could spin an illusion. Nothing big, but maybe a bit of rock or..."

"HEY GUYS I THINK I FOUND SOMETHING OVER HERE." Rajan's voice echoed from the hall that Pickle had just glanced down. Several alarmed grunts and snarls coming from the undead as they began to run away from the group. The bard came swaggering back, "Simple enough. Lead them down the hall that way a bit." He waved a hand into the darkness.

A darkness which was starting to glow as the suited undead rounded the corner Rajan had strolled back from. "Not far enough," Graf growled as he stood. Conduit leaping into his hand as he took a stance. One of the abominations shambled into view, coming from the hall they had been investigating. Seems there were more than the two. The magical item rocked in his grip as it launched an icy bolt towards one undead. The shard streaking through the air and hitting hard enough to rock the creature back with a grunt. Exploding into countless splinters of biting cold an instant later.

Rajan sighed, "If only I had that iron door," and spun towards one of the creatures. Blade clashed off aged leather with a meaty thump.

"Woopwoopwoop," Pickle cried out as she darted towards the one Graf had shot. Fists and feet flying, the green female springing off it hard enough to stun the creature. Slipping past it into the room before returning to slam her sword into it's back. The syringe she'd grabbed slipping into a pocket.

Yet more spells and swords flew. Zombies getting bashed, slashed, and smashed by the party. They didn't pose too much of an issue, not to the seasoned adventuring party. Not that they would have to be that dangerous. Graf seriously doubted any of them wanted to be down here for any longer than they had to be. Which meant no bad night's rest to get their energies back. So the creatures might not have to be hard, just if there were enough of them they'd be in trouble.

A check over the creatures revealed them to be the same as the the ones before. Interesting, but unexplainable currently.

However, in the room beyond there was something very interesting. The remains of what looked like an alchemy table. The vials and flasks fairly clean. Each bearing a label in the same neat handwriting as the note they'd found earlier.

Grig lifted a flash and rolled it, "Blue vi..vi.. Vitriol?"

"Don't drink it," Graf looked over the table with a hum. His attention grabbed by the burner and small crucible. He tapped the stone, "Gold?" All their eyes fell to the amulet. Graf took it off and set it on the table. "So we've got at least one door and two chests, all locked by this."

Rajan nodded, "And need to take the gold off?" He tapped a vial, "Might be the answer? Something to take it off? Or..." Teeth glinted as he grinned, "Could heat it up. Bit of magic and badaboom, gold comes right off."

"Is that safe? Would it damage the opaline?" Graf knew little of metallurgy other than what was and wasn't valuable.

The elf-tabaxi thought about it for a second, "Eh, it'll be fine, Move it over there." Graf ground his teeth for a second, but did as requested. Setting the amulet in the crucible before looking for some tool to use. He eyed everything on the table, wondering if that would be the better option. Alchemy was beyond his realm though. Could mix up ink, but that was about it.

Rajan muttered something and waved his hand over the amulet. Heat starting to radiate off it. Fur bristled as he held his hand there, shaking slowly until the gold began to dull.

His hand dropped with a huff, "Took more out of me than I thought. Where's some tongs." Graf held up a rusty pair, the tool practically crumbling as they were opened up. "Oh," came the defeated sigh. Nails tapping at the table. Sweat beading at his brow as he stared at the amulet.

Jynx' deeper rumble, "We need a more sustained heat." His eyes darting over to Corrine as she tried to hop and look at what was going on.

Ears perked, "Corrine?" Rajan looked at her, "Think you can sustain it enough?

Her tail twitched and ears wiggled, "AH... uh... I think maybe? But first..." She looked at Rajan and reached out. A whisper of reddish green power rolling between them. His breathing steadied and he offered a firmer smile. "Better?" He nodded and gave her hand a pat, "Okay..." She took a sigh and reached her hand towards the crucible, "Let's see if I can..."

Eyes unfocused and she took a breath. Those tendrils snapping out and coiling around the amulet like vines grasping at a lattice. Teeth chattered as the squirrel's eyes rapidly focused and unfocused. Her fingers twitching as the vines began to slide over the gold. Metal bubbling and rolling. Her flaming appendages began to wipe the gold clear. Smearing it in some places, but mostly removing it.

It wasn't long before she pulled back with an ecstatic grin on her face. "I did it!" she squeaked, reaching for the amulet.

A light tap to the back of her hand stopped her, "It's still hot. But you did a great job, Corrine." Graf looked over the amulet, seeing the flecks of gold all over it. Almost as if they all had the same thought at the same time, Graf, Rajan, and Jynx all held out their hand and began to use magic to clean off the last flecks.

Then it was time to wait for it to cool down. Which gave Graf plenty of time to fish the chests out of the satchel.

It didn't take long for the amulet to cool down enough to handle without burning himself. Everyone gathered around as he pressed the amulet to the chest. It took a little bit of work. Twisting and angling just so before the amulet popped into the socket on the lock with a click. "Well, it's in there. Just hope we can get it back out." Pressing the amulet, the lock clicked slowly before snapping open. A spring kicking the amulet out. Graf scrambling to catch it before it hit the ground. "Let's see what was so important they locked it up."

A metal rod lay in the box, magical script scrawled over the surface. Graf looked it and angled his head, glancing at the part. Jynx reached over and tapped the rod before lifting it. When nothing happened, he tapped the rod against the box, "I'll get to Identifying."

He nodded and popped the second chest open, finding what looked like a matching set of boots and gloves. Both rather rumpled and looking a little worse for wear. "Huh," a finger nudged the boots, "Doubt these are someone's castoffs." Leaning in, the dragonborn sniffed, "Smells of magic, so guess I'm on identify as well." A pearl came out of a pocket. "We good?"

"We good," Pickle chimed up. So out came a smaller book, each page filled with very neat script. Instructions on how to carry out a ritual. A glance at Jynx showed that the tabaxi was already deep into his own. How did wizards do it? Everything was so precise. Hands just so, pronunciation precise, gesture like this. Sharply now, no slow movements or the spell goes awry. He was glad that Joshua had written everything out so clearly, with Graf adding his own notes as needed to clarify.

The act itself wasn't hard, motions directing the his power rather than the typical way he used it. It was mostly tiring, having to repeat the gestures in several points, and keeping it up for so long. Tapping the pearl against the boots, he then shattered it into dust between their fingers. Breath puffed at the dust, watching as it swirled upwards and formed into words before his eyes.

"About time," Jynx huffed playfully. Holding up the metal rod, "It's called the Vitriolic Sarissa. Sweep your hands on the runes or think about it and it'll extend into a spear. Looks like it might do something like Pickle's sword, except it stores acid rather than shocking. So what do you have there, Graffion?" He leaned forward curiously.

Focusing his attention back on the item, he held up the boots and gloves, "Seems they are a set. Wherever I May Roam," he rolled the worn items in his hands, looking at the sturdy soles and metal plates. "Seems that it gives you steady footing, mobility, and increase the force of your strikes." Brow arched slightly, "Pickle?"

The kobold-orc perked up, "But I've already got a pair of boots on." She lifted a foot to show one off, "They help make me go faster."

"It shouldn't matter, they are both magical items. I don't see why they couldn't fit over each other." Graf glanced at Jynx, "Right?"

Shoulders rolled in a shrug, "Can't hurt to try?"

Pickle took the boots and fitted them onto her feet. They were fairly large on the kobold, making her look more like a child trying on their father's footwear. As soon as the finger-less gloves were slid into place, both gloves and boots tightened up. "Whoooa," she wiggled her feet, "That feels a little weird." The boots continued to shift as she moved her feet. Flexing and conforming to her toes. "Okay, that is really weird. Feels like they were made for me."

"Just give it an hour or so to get used to you." Jynx tossed the rod up and caught it, "So what about the spear? I doubt I can use it, would probably accidentally stab myself with it if I tried."

Corrine perked up, "If only Feng Bao were here, he'd probably love it." Graf's tail twitched at the mention of the Triton. While he had parted with the claim that they would be friends, leaving with the claim that he couldn't trust any of the party had somewhat soured the party's relationship with him.

Rajan perked up, "Graf, what about you?" The dragonborn turned his head with a curious hum. "I mean, you used to carrying one around all the time." He thought back to his last spear, which had largely went unused until recently. Then... well it had been left buried in that goon's head.

"Well..." he started, "I've already got the conduit."

"Then you take it."

"Yeah, no one else can really use it."

"Uh huh, we don't mind."

Having the party offer it up so readily felt... Graf cleared his throat and nodded, "I'd be happy to accept it then."

Jynx nodded, "We could wait here a little while you two..." a hand was waved between the pair. "Get comfortable." So a bit more waiting around. The thought of it made Graf's stomach turn and twitch some. Corners of his mouth twitching before every scrap of willpower slammed a lid on anything before it came boiling out.

Rajan shrugged, "how much more of this place do we have left?" He wasn't looking very well, sweat beading on his forehead and eyes looking a little hollow.

The dragonborn mirrored the shrug, "It can't be that much more."A quick glance around showed the party was in a similar mood, "Should probably just keep moving and worry about these later." The smaller rod was lifted, finger trailing over the runes.

Feet tapped the ground, "Right, let's get going." Pickle shot a sidelong glance at Graffion before leaving the room. Normally, the dragonborn was rather skilled at reading people, but that look... what was that look?

The others gathered at a corner, looking down a hall. Jynx ambling up alongside. "Hey," the dark tabaxi started, "Where's Grig?

"Guys?" the bear's voice echoed at them. "Looked up and you were gone. Did you go north or south?"

"South."

Grig ambled up with an apologetic look on his face, "I'm a durr," quickly shuffling to the front of the pack, just behind Pickle. The kobold's eyes narrowed at something around the corner. She just continued to back up, walking right between the cleric's legs until she was behind him. Corrine leaned towards her friend, "Alright so... is it clear?"

"I have no idea. Grig?"

Without a word, the bear began to amble forward. "You know," Pickle started as she watched the cleric's back, "We do keep sending the slow bear with bad coordination go first." Wisely waiting until there were no sounds of traps springing before following.

"He is the biggest, most likely to set off traps." Corrine followed on her heels. "Plus if he gets hurt, he can either fix himself or my spirit can!" A collective shudder passed through the crowd at the mention of the healing spirit. As grateful as they were for the creature, there was something about the way it moved and grabbed onto their faces that was disturbing.

The party ranged out behind Grig, steps cautious in case any traps lay in wait. Grig's ear twitched as he neared a corner. "Sounds like another one of those things. Ah ha!" He leapt around the corner, "Oh hello." He backed up a few steps, "Corrine, might need some fire here." A strange request since the bear was usually pretty gung-ho about taking out any and all undead as soon as he saw them. Must be something unusual to have him calling for the druid.

This he had to see.

Graf was just coming up as Pickle called out, "We come in..." light flared and Corrine squeaked, "Peace. Never mind."

"Sorry," uttered the squirrel.

Coming around the corner revealed one of those masked zombies. His suit had been torn open at some point, revealing the glowing body underneath. A glow that was somewhat diminished. Curiously, fungus was growing out of the hole in the suit. That same fungus they'd been sent to collect. Glowing with a soft blue light despite the flames that had rendered the undead immobile. "That went down surprisingly fast," Grig nudged the creature with a foot. "Was barely moving either.'

His eyes lifted and he stopped, "That's a large mushroom." The party moved around the corner and saw a large colony of the same mold. Except this mold was growing on some sort of creature. "You guys make booze out of this?" Jynx asked dubiously.

"It's not usually that aggressive." Pickle offered in response.

The tabaxi shot her a look, "Where exactly did you store that stuff?" The question came as he basked away a couple steps.

A thumb was hooked over her shoulder, 'In my bag." She caught the look he was giving her, "Don't worry, it's perfectly safe back there." There was a moment of thought, "At least I think it is." She scratched her chin and thought about it.

Corrine crouched down and brushed at the moldy zombie with her scythe. "It's not growing in him, it's growing on him. If that makes sense." Her whiskers twitched. Looking up towards the colony at the end of the hall. "There's something coming out of that." She pointed towards the colony. There, under all the faintly glowing fungus was this pale white object. "Should we go check that out?"

Pickle approached the mass and began to look at it with a curious noise. "It's a cocoon?" She nudged it with a foot. "It's covering something. And... It's warm?"

Jynx perked an ear, "Hey, Corrine?"

"Yes?"

"Can't you speak with plants or something?"

"Yes." She looked at the tabaxi.

He waved a hand, "Then can't you talk with that?"

"Well... mold is more of a creature than a plant."

The hint of a scowl crossed his features, "Then can't you speak with animals?"

She brightened up at that, "I suppose I could... yeah, I could!" Hurrying over to the mound, she glanced at the cleric, "Grig, could you watch just in case that thing gets up?" The bear moved between her and the faintly glowing zombie. Reaching a hand out, she called, "Hello?" Her ears perking. "It's..." head tilted slightly, "The thing is kind of whimpering?"

"I hear it too," Pickle leaned forward, nose nearly touching the surface of the fungus-clad cocoon. "Hello, I can hear you. Can you hear me?"

Graf tapped a finger against his chin, "I have a strange thought," Rolling his hand, he pointed at the undead creature, "What if we put that, against that?" He indicated the cocoon. "It's still glowing and, if the fungus is feeding off whatever made it..."

"Then it might react?" Jynx chimed in as well. "An interesting thought. Grig?"

A nod, "On it," Grig picked up the body and began to carry it towards the colony. Meanwhile, Pickle was pressing her hand against a clear spot. Eyes closing as she focused on what she was feeling.

Corrine's ears twitched, "Maybe... Maybe... Um... this maybe an odd thing." She hefts up her scythe, a powerful artifact they'd found some weeks back. "We cut out whoever is in there. Maybe they... they're still alive?"

"Sounds like a lot of maybe to me," Grig announced. "What if it's still growing and cutting it out kills it." He ambled over and tossed the corpse onto the colony.

Pickle snapped out of her meditation as the body crashed down next to her. "GRIG!" Pointing at the crack that appeared on the cocoon. Greenish blood trickling from where it broke. She didn't even have to say anything.

The bear's ears fell back at her look, "I was told to do it," He whimpered, tapping fingers together.

Graf's fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose, "We didn't tell you to throw it." He didn't want to be too hard on the cleric though, "I'm sure it's fine. Loosing a little blood never hurt anyone."

Corrine was giving her scythe a look, "I still vote we should try to cut it out." There was something about her tone that made Graf take a wary step back. Not exactly the best way to get one to come out of their shell if you asked him.

"I think I'm in agreement," Jynx offered as he moved up."

Pickle shot them a look, "I'm gonna try to talk to it." Hands pressed to the creature and she leaned in. "Sounds hurt?" Stubby tail twitched, "Corrine, do you have any healing spells?"

She nodded, "I do." She hurried up and touched a finger against it.

Orangish light washing across the creature. The pale white regaining a green color. A deep wheeze coming from the entity as its eyes fluttered open. "Wh..." the creature stirred and sat up slowly. Eyes darting from one member of the party to the next as it started a dozen words before managing, "What are you doing here?"

Pickle rocked back on her heels, "Did we wake you up?" Her tone rather low and soft, as not to startle the person.

Insectoid eyes blinked, "You are not.. You are not here to...You are not here to attack or anything." Graf found himself hoping that this was some side effect of whatever it had been through, paired with having a zombie bounced off it, and not just the way it spoke.

"No," Corrine started as well. "No, well..." She started to trail off.

Graf stepped forward, "We are here to find out what's wrong."

The creature's attention snapped to him and it curled it's hands, looking very much like a large praying mantis. "Oh, thank the gods." Chitin scraped together as it pulled itself out of the fungal cocoon, "It is nice to talk to a friendly person. My name is Ittoku."

Tail twitched excitedly, "I'm Corrine," the squirrel offered up. Looking at the creature with an awestruck expression.

"Ah hello, Corrine. Are you the one that cast that spell on me?"

She nodded quickly, "Yes, we were just trying to figure out what was going on down here."

He nodded, "Ahh, then perhaps I can provide some illumination to that question. You see, I am a Azurverda, we are gardeners." The insect crawled out of the crypt he had been in. Mold coming off in sheets, "Ah, sorry. No need to worry, that mold is relatively harmless to living things." He brushed a hand over his body, "So perhaps... Ah how did you get in here, by the way?"

"We came in through the entrance." Corrine offered helpfully, bouncing a bit with excitement at having found someone else down here. Ears pinned back briefly, "Well, not the main main entrance, we kinda came through a side door? I think?"

Mandibles clicked in confusion. "The entrance?" He blinked a few times and started slowly, "Was that not sealed?"

It was Graf's turn to step forward. "We are here to take the Trials." He held up the Conduit.

Ittoku's eyes lit up at the sight of the artifact. "Your trials, of course." A claw-like hand rubbed his chin for a moment, "How... long has it been sealed?"

"Everyone we have asked has been rather vague with it. Saying that the entrance was sealed after the last heirs were lost. That was over two decades ago."

Those mandibles froze, "Oh my word..." He drooped a little, "it has been a long time." Hands rubbed together with soft scratches for a moment while he pondered this. "Perhaps an explanation is in order, but first have you found those..." he struggled for a second, "Needle things?"

Pickle held up a syringe, "These?"

Mandibles snapped, "Yes! Those. SO, ah. Do you have a dose for each of you?" Heads shook, "Ah perhaps we should find more."

"We have been treating people as they turn sick, "Pickle offered, looking into her bag to see how many of the syringes she had.

Ittoku clicked, "It is best you use them immediately. This strange presence that has suffused the temple. It is something that the others, before they were taken, called Radiation." It was never good when some unseen danger was named, much less when there was a cure for it concocted. Dangerous as it might be without a name, giving it once always seemed to make things worse.

Pickle tapped one of the syringes, "This stuff they made, the inoculation." A glance up at the Azurverda, "Was it made from the mold down here?"

He nodded quickly, "Yes. It is fortunate that this presence brought on by...what is called a draGon?" The gardener's voice lifting oddly with the word. Features screwing up briefly before nodding, "The corpse of a uranium dragon, they said it."

Grig perked up, "A dragon?"

Ittoku nodded, "Hyes. Not native to this place, as I am. I am not native to this plane."

Corrine leaned forward to whisper at Pickle, "I don't think any of us are native to these parts." Seeming to forget that, while the rest of them had come from Isonzo, Rajan and Jynx were both born in this plane.

Mandibles clicked, "Then it would see we are in good company." Hands rubbed together, "So ah, it was as you say, about two decades ago that a creature came to here. Called himself a... Hiveling lord." A murmur raced through the group. They had encountered the hivelings before. Strange, extra-dimensional creatures that were beyond deadly. "He came here, attacked this place, searching or something. He seems to have uncovered it."

Armor rattled as Grig moved forward, "A hiveling," he repeated, "We encountered these when we first got here."

"Yeah, they're huge assholes," Pickle croaked.

Ittoku nodded, "Hyes, we were working on.. W-we were working on suppressing the radiation in this place, but then this thing came in here. Began making... Minions and mincemeat of my assistants, as you can see." He pointed towards one of the suited zombies, "As you can see." Hands folded back, "And started corrupting this place. Apparently this dragon, this uranium dragon, as he said was... Entomb... well not entombed, it was buried here. Coincidentally."

Grig pointed with a drumstick, "So someone is here to take pieces of the dragon." He thought for a moment before taking a bite of the meat. Graf's eyes rolling slightly, not bothering to ask how old it was or where the cleric had been keeping it.

Nodding, "It would see so. It appears he wished to harness the power of this dragon, or at least it's body, for some purpose."

The bear swallowed his morsel, "Then it appears we need to go dragon hunting."

"Well, it's a corpse, so..." Graf shrugged.

Grig turned, "Eh... okay, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but some things that are dead don't stay dead."

"Whaaat?" Jynx huffed, "When did that happen?"

Nodding, "Yeah," Graf joined in. "They were moving so they're obviously alive. Or some form of alive. Couldn't kill them if they were already dead." He was certain that at some point, Grig was going to hit him with something. Maybe the zombie's body. Nah, that had been done before.

Jynx's tail twitched, "Name one time, Grig." They were both going to be hit with a shield one day and only had themselves to blame.

The bear narrowed his eyes, "Alr...ah...." He just walked past the two of them to have a moment. One day they were going to break him. It was only a matter of time at this rate.

A surprised squeak made Graf jump. Pickle's arm wrapped around Corrine's head, needle in her free hand. She jabbed the needle into the squirrels arm and pressed. "Hold still, he said we should use these and I don't want to hurt you."

"Owowowow," Corrine broke free eventually, rubbing the spot. "Ah... my friend," she waved down the hall where Rajan should've been "Well he wasn't feeling well so I restored him. That seemed to help."

Pickle checked the syringe, "That was a restoration wasn't it? Not inoculation." With the syringe empty, she tossed it aside for the moment. "Would you be able to make more of these, Ittoku? If we don't find more?"

He nodded, "Correct, the spell would only restore what harm has been done, not prevent further. It takes a special cleansing to rid the radiation. And yes, if I had their notes I could prepare more."

Corrine nodded "Well then would you like to come with us?" Graf was already moving as she talked with the gardener. Sweat forming on his brow. He was feeling ill. Between worry for the other party members, barely holding the Graf-mask together, and now this radiation thing? That frail control was staring to fray. How long until it was beyond recovery?

Rounding the corner and back down the hall, they found Rajan standing in the hall. Staring at something. Even without proper lighting, it was impossible to miss the glowing skull at the end of the hall. Casting a sickly green light into the room.

"I don't think we're going that way," Pickle moved forward, "Not until everyone is inoculated." She rose on her tippy toes and narrowed her eyes, catching sight of a body on the floor amid a pool of dried fluids. "Yeah, not going that way. What's down here?" She barely made it a step towards the branching hallways when a hiss sounded as soon as she put a foot on the steps, "Oh come on! Ya asshole." Jabbing a hand towards the stairs, "Bad mens!" Not that Graf needed to be told, hearing them just around the corner.

Corrine darted between everyone, positioning herself behind Grig before throwing her hand out. A spark of magical flame darting down the hall. No sooner had she flung the flame, than a glowing skeleton shambled up and took a swing at Pickle. It was just finishing its swing when Rajan moved in, spinning the blade in a dazzling array before metal crashed off bone.

Graf's mind was racing. He could clearly see one of the skeletons are the top of the stair, but he needed a better angle. Sliding around Grig, he positioned his side against a stone wall to Corrine's side, the Conduit in his hand before he even thought of drawing it. There was another skeleton at the foot of the short stairs, which is who he drew a bead on. A squeeze made the Conduit jump in his hand, metal growing icy as a shard of ice leapt from the barrel and slammed into the skeleton. Bones rattling under the impact before the shard exploded.

Another lurched out of the shadow with a throaty hiss, practically falling up the stairs as its claw-like finger bones dug into Pickle and Rajan. The kobold yelping out as blood was drawn, her flesh loosing color slightly. It was barely up the stairs when flames leapt past it's head. Jynx hissing a curse when the erratic movements made him miss.

Pickle lashed out in retaliation, practically turning into a whirlwind of sword slashes and furious blows. Hitting one of the skeletons hard enough to literally make its head spin around. Her feet just barely touched the ground before bolting backwards. Skidding between Grig's legs and around Corrine, holding her wounded front with a whimper. Graf's heart sinking as blood trickled from the kobold's mouth.

Grig stomped forward with a growl, "BEGON!" His voice thundered through the catacomb as his shield flashed. The skeletons snarling and shielding their eyes from the glowing unicorn.

More fire flared as Corrine and Jynx both let bolts fly. One striking the skeleton and causing bones to blacken as the other made it mere inches from Jynx's hand before dropping. Mayhap the radiation was interfering with his spells? Graf could feel his own core of power churning coldly, a maelstrom begging to be unleashed.

So release it he would. Blinding light lancing from the Conduit and slamming into a skeleton, flames seeming to turn to ice as it rocked back, trying to get away from the bear. Grig hurling his ax at the retreating skeleton, catching the weapon as it came back.

With a battle cry of, "Whooopwoopwooo." Pickle would bolt past everyone and leap down the stairs. Body twisting mid-air to kick at the skeleton as it rounded the corner. She hit, tucking and rolling. "I see drugs!" came the call as she grabbed something off the ground. Graf watched as Grig stomped down the stairs, shouting at the undead before starting to make sure they wouldn't rise again.

Graf snorted, "Are we just going to corner beat them?"

"Thuggin," Pickle wiped her maw as she joined the cleric. It wasn't a battle at that point, so Graf found himself nudging at the piles of bone. Wondering if anything lay there. When a quick search turned up nothing, he returned to the hall.

"I take it that's the source of the radiation?" Pickle followed, practically on Graf's heels. "I don't think we should go there until we get enough for everyone."

Ittoku wandered up the hall as the sounds of combat died down, "It would appear to be. For quite some time, before the arrival of that hiveling thing, I spent must time with my assistants trying to cleanse this place of the radiation. We did not realize it was from that dragon corpse. It would seem... a coincidence that the dragon corpse was buried here."

Corrine fidgeted, "So who would get injected next?" Graf counted off in his head. Grig and Jynx had, as had the druid moments before.

Arms behind his back, "Pickle first," Graf stated as he roamed down the other hallway. "I can wait until we find..." Coming around the corner, he found himself in a room, looking right at one of the purple syringes, "Another one." Grig pushed past everyone and went into the chamber to make sure it was clear.. Graf nodded down the hall, "Pickle?"

She flashed a grin, "I've picked up the others, so why break the streak now?" Hurrying into the room, she swept up the syringe, "Your Majesty." She offered it with a slight bow.

He shook his head, "You first, want to make sure that..." The monk stepped forward and jabbed him in the thigh, "Ow..." It stung, but not badly. Just a little prick and mild burning. What do you know? It did taste of berries. He frowned and rolled his tongue against his mouth. Not good berries though.

"Picked up a couple," she explained as she injected herself with one. "Which means... Rajan!" she ran off down the hall.

The bard, "No, make sure everyone else has... OW!" He yelped. "Could have done it myself," Came the near whine as the kobold returned to the chamber Graf was in. Roaming around the perimeter and looking over carvings and the various stone crypts that littered the floor.

Didn't seem to be much else around. And exploration of further halls only lead them back towards the side door. So Graf put the Conduit back into the pocket inside his jacket and returned to the others. Rounding the corner just in time to see Rajan's sword come down on the hiveling lord's corpse, taking its head clean off. He arched a brow and looked over the glowing skull. A feeling of unease coursing through his body as he stayed closer to the wall. Fingers once more sliding over the carvings as he made his way around the perimeter.

Rajan gave the head a kick before looking at several large, glowing piles, "Hey, Ittoku. What are those things?"

The insect-like azruverda moved in closer, "Ah, these appear to be, ah, a bunch of mold cultures that have absorbed more of this radiation than they can fully tolerate. It is very good, it seems to be very good for the purging this radiation, but there is a limit to what these colonies can absorb before they themselves die."

Graf breathed a little easier as Pickle moved away. It was an odd feeling, but he was certain he could feel her giving him more of those unknown looks. Silently judging perhaps, but only when he wasn't looking. Was she following so close to tell him how weak he was for cracking, as Martigan had several times. Or was she wanting a front row seat for the next crack to appear? "So if we introduced a large enough amount of the culture here, it might work?" She roamed around the pillars, keeping a healthy distance from the skull. Well, as healthy as could be while being in the same room.

Ittoku's answer faded to the back as Graf continued around the room. There was something about the place was making him feel... "So you say this was the royal area?"

Ittoku stopped in his explanation of the role of the fungus in the role of brewing. His features screwing up slightly. "That is correct."

Hand fell to a racked stone capstone. "So who is in these, if I may ask?"

The question seemed to catch the Azurverda off guard. "They appear to be..." His features sank, "They... Ah it's been quiet some time. I have still trouble getting all my memory back. They are very long dead ones, as most in the crypt are. Most interred here are above grounds. This was the oldest one and where the mold culture grew most readily. These three are the first three Kings and Queens of the Lunar protectorate."

So these were the ones he was claiming to be part of? Something tugged at his gut. Was that a twinge of guilt he was feeling? That was certainly a new one. Something he'd simply chalk up to how weary he was already.. This radiation or whatever it was was making him feel ill.

He turned as stone scraped against stone, "What's this?" Grig scooped up a tablet that was by the hiveling's corpse. "Ittoku?" he offered the tablet out, "Would I be able to read this tablet? As far as I can tell you are caretaker of this tomb and I would hate to be grave robbing."

Insectoid body moved closer, "Oh it is, ah, well. You have helped me enough that you do not need to feel bashful." He took the tablet and turned it around in his hand. Rotating it this way and that as he tried to read the language. "This appears to be in a language that I do not understand." Offering it back, "It would seem... my guess is that this hiveling here, this former hiveling, seems to have written this." He looked towards the skull, "It would seem that he was trying to harness the power of this radiation. Seems to have proven too powerful even for him."

Grig took it back and kept rotating it this way and that. Jynx moved over, "Grig, would you want hand it here?"

The bear held it out, "Sure thing, Jynx. I was thinking that we could just take it to the Gray Conclave and see if one of their experts could..."

"Or I could read it here." Grig stared at him before hitting himself in the head, Jynx offering a sly smile as he muttered a spell and touched his eyelids. Blinking, he looked at the tablet and intoned.

"Brilliant! The corpse of this dragon is brimming with Uranium, as if it were part of its very being. Oh joyous find!" He stopped a second, "Anyone writing this down?" Rajan producing some parchment and a pen.

Jynx continued, "With the life and light I shall consume from it, I shall be the one to heal our new God King and save him from the doom of chaos that has weakened him so! Not even the pathetic whelps of this forlorn land and their pathetic 'divine stasis' will be able to stop his wrath! Witness my words if I should fail my brothers and sisters, take up this mantle to restore our abandoned tribe to power! Ro! Va! Gug!"

He frowned, "It just repeats that last line a couple times."

"That's a football chant," Pickle offered. Graf had heard of this football. A sport played by the masses, a few nobles had gone to watch them play before, inviting him along. It looked entertaining enough, but not his thing.

Grig bristled, "A new God-king? I don't like the sound of that." He tapped his arms together as Corrine twitched.

"That does not sound very promising..." Ittoku started up.

Ears perking, "Did he say Divine Stasis? Oh no..." Hand slapped against his head with a groan. "Oh no..."

Pickle perked up, "Well Anubis is going to want to know about this." Which meant a trip to see Asher. Good, Graf had a few choice words for that demi-god after last time they'd met. The demi-god cleric had asked them to find his lost pets, abyssal creatures that he and his father had brought along with them when they wound up in this plane. While they had found both, during their encounter with the last one, they had called upon Asher for help as well as help from Joshua. A lich friend of theirs that they met soon after coming here. Needless to say, the two did not get along.

Grig nodded, "Yep. We will need to take this tablet back. Definitely."

Ittoku clicked his mandibles, "Of course, if I could take a quick inscription of this?" He ambled over to Rajan, "Could I borrow that perhaps?"

Waiting until he was done, Pickle started, "If we've eliminated all the leftovers that were here, would you say that cleansing this place properly only needs growing more mold cultures?" Graf perked up as well, that meant they could leave.

Ittoku nodded absently, "It is certainly possible, but the amount required to cleanse and suppress it would take time. Considerable time."

A grin flashed across Pickle's face. "Then would you mind relaying that to our handlers outside?" Yes please, the sooner they got out the better. Even with the inoculation, Graf was starting to sweat more, his insides churning and rolling as weight pressed down on his head. He was leaning against the wall as the others spoke with Ittoku. His mouth feeling dry, like someone had shoved a handful of cotton in there.

"I need some fresh air," were the first words to cut through his haze. Corrine starting for the sealed door. Graf couldn't agree with the druid more, heading for the sealed door as Grig hefted the hiveling's corpse.

"Hey Grig," Pickle hopped behind him, "Make it talk, Argaraga." Grig hurried to get ahead of the group, but had to wait for Graf to unlock the door. Amulet socketing in with a click. Popping free as the locks spun and retreated. Good to know it still worked. Sure as hell didn't want to have a lock break on them after all that.

Light flooded the room as the door swung open. Fresh air wafting around them. Graf took a deep breath of relief, holding the door open for the others as they filed past. Eyes closed most of the way as he simply propped himself against the door. Waiting to close the door behind them.

Amber stood at the top of the stairs, The dwarf's head pulled back sharply, a grimace on her features. Behind her stood Everett, the guard's eyes wild as he glared at them. The cold steel of a dagger pressed tight enough to her throat to almost draw blood. A hand crossbow pointed at them. "None of you... None of you move."

"I swear to Mielikki..." Grig growled.

"I SAID! None of you move!" Everette snapped.

Graf felt a pit open in his gut. Oh gods above why. They had made it through all this, been so careful about everything. Fought undead abominations, traveled forgotten halls, and faced unseen danger, now this? Rajan started to say something and the crossbow snapped around, "Shut up, you!"

Rajan narrowed his eyes, "You are an idiot."

"For what?" Everette snapped, "Trying to keep this charlatan from taking the throne?" He waved the weapon towards Graf.

Graf's heart was hammering in his chest as everything came down all at once. Something boiling up within his core as the dragonborn's body began to move on its own. Not away from danger, as he would have even weeks ago, but towards it. A step. Then two. His eyes were burning with icy rage as they locked with Everett's, not allowing the human to look away. Yes, that's it. Focus on the one you hate. Graf's lips began to part, all but ready to tell Everett to let the girl go. Everett had the beef with him. He didn't care if the bodyguard shot him, stabbed him, whatever, he was not about to...

"What if you're actually wrong, you stupid, inbred, little shit." Rajan surged up a stair. Graf's body froze, staring at the bard in pure shock as the elf-tabaxi just let loose with every insult. What the actual hells was he doing? This was not how you handled a hostage situation. De-escalate, redirect, not antagonize.

The crossbow shook, "Yo-you don't understand!"

Rajan snarled, "You have bolt, one choice."

"I have a knife!" The dagger pulled tighter against, "I have a knife against her neck!"

Graf could feel his magic surging against every ounce of control he had. A lifetime of willpower and hard-won control over what came as naturally to him as breathing. Breath fogged in the morning air as his entire body cooled, power threatening to break free. Rajan continued to yell and insult the guard, but Graf couldn't hear it over the pounding of his own head as he took another step.

Something touched him, making him hesitate. A hand sweeping over his hip and down to the base of his tail, giving it a squeeze. What the...

Amber twisted suddenly, teeth clamping down on Everett's wrist. In the same instant, Pickle exploded into motion. The kobold's vaulting off the base of Graf's tail as she launched herself into the air. She twisted in the air and planted all fours on the wall before rebounding with a screech.

Everett called out in surprise and jerked, bow going off with a twang. Pickle spun mid-air, catching the bolt as it sailed through the space she'd been an instant before. She barely touched the ground before leaping. Her fist snaking past Amber to bury into the human's gut. Both feet planted on Amber's shoulder as the bolt came up, point resting right against Everett's throat. Her lips brushed his ear, "I don't think so, Squire." The only thing keeping the bodyguard from falling was her grip on his shirt, his eyes wide as he stared at the monk.

It was a moment worthy of song.

Legs shook, "I.. I only did it for the Steward..." Tears were running freely down his cheeks, "Twenty years, so many false royals, he's kept the place stable."

WHACK!

Everett's eyes rolled back in his head as he slumped against pickle. A black-robed figure standing behind him. The wizened white dragonborn looked down at the guard with a forlorn expression. "I... At first, I didn't believe it, but he was the one who poisoned you. What a shame. He was incredibly loyal." His head lifted to lock eyes with Graf. The younger dragonborn having to support himself on the wall to keep from falling over as his body shook. "My sincere apologies, your Majesty, it seems his fanaticism for me has lead to him being brash."

Graf nodded and took a breath to center himself. "Grig, Corrine?" He knew he had their attention without having to look, "I hate to ask, but do either of you have some healing magic left?" Weary as he was, he cold feel that inner reserve of his own strength, but no telling how the others fared.

"I do," Grig spoke from somewhere nearby.

Another breath, fog puffing from his maw. "I can understand where Everett is coming from. For someone to come from nowhere and make the claims I have? He deserves a second chance."

"Well," Karuth looked mildly surprised. Something flashing across his features almost too quick to read. Was that pride? Joy? "That would have to wait until the Trials have concluded. I..." he leaned to the side and peered through the party, "Is that Master Ittoku?"

The gardener moved forward, "Oh, Hello Mr. Karuth. You are looking... oh my it has been twenty years. You are looking considerably more aged." With Everett on the ground, they filtered up the stairs to be on even footing with the Lord Steward.

A nod, "And you haven't aged a day in your life."

"Oh, I have been in my cocoon form for twenty years."

Karuth sniffed, "That explains it." He looked over the party, but Graf was certain that the Steward was watching him out of the corner of his eye, "Well, it would seem you've survive whatever was down there. Has whatever was down there been dealt with?" Grig lifted the body and Rajan hefted the head. "I am quite impressed. Now, Graffion..."

Corrine stepped in, "There's still some cleansing that needs to be taken care of, but we cleared it out down there."

Pickle spun the bolt around her fingers, "Just the radiation left there, but Master Ittoku can deal with that with enough time."

Karuth nodded, "Very well. Then I will leave it to his very capable hands, if that's the case. As for all of you, I must admit you have surpassed my expectations." There was something in his voice, a hint of pride? "And now we can move on to the final portion of your Trials." Stepping back, he swept a hand towards the carts, "Please, come with us."

Corrine rushed to tend to Amber as Grig set the hiveling lord's body down. He glanced towards Graf, rolling his shoulder as he did. Holy light gathered around his hand and the bear delivered the healing energy with a backhand right across the bodyguard's face. Everett snapped awake, "And that's the last good will you'll get from us." His fur bristling as he hefted the body and stormed after Karuth.

"We have an unconscious body," guards were already moving to collect Everett as the group joined the Lord Steward at the karts, "And the possible new king, with his entourage. Take them to the Palace of Ice for the final test."

Graf ran over his mental map of the city, sadly nowhere near as complete as he'd like. Would have to remedy that. "Palace of Ice?"

Karuth looked over at him, "Myess, it will be the place for your final test." There was something in his tone that sent shivers racing down Graf's spine. Not that he let that show. Or at least he hoped he wasn't letting it show.

Whiskers twitching, Corrine eased up beside them, "I think you needed this stuff, right?" She held up a bag with the fungal sample.

Cool gaze swept over the bag, but lightened with honest pleasure, "Ah. The koji culture. You did well there too."

"Well, we all did." Corrine beamed up at him, handing over the bag.

Tucking it into his belt, Karuth lead them to the carts. Graf slinking into one and leaning back with a quiet sigh, eyes closing. He could feel the others sliding into the card with him. Karuth across from him, Pickle next to, Grig, Rajan, Jynx, Corrine, even Amber and Floof. Graf just rode with his eyes closed, taking deep breathes to steady himself. That had nearly broken him again, he could feel the mask shaking. It took every scrap of willpower from a lifetime of hiding the truth to keep it in place.