Fellowship of the Dice

Gul Stouthand sits down in another nearby chair across from Drumlin, the crags of his face furrowing with thought. He rattles off an explanation almost mechanically, as if his mind is elsewhere.

"It's known as a Flayer Spawn. You know of Mind Flayers? The first servants of the Eldest, terrors of the deep, and bogeymen to dwarven children since the dawn of time?" He continues, "They are quite real, and that thing inside Bor was one in its larval stage. We were lucky to kill it before it came into its own, and gained the ability to conceal itself. The veins gave it away - the creature crawls in through the throat and injects its poison into the bloodstream, killing the host brain and allowing it to take over."

He sighs, "What I'm most concerned with is why it was here, and whether it is indeed the first. If a number of them have slipped in, it could mean disaster... wait." Gul pauses, as if remembering something, "Bor was working down there. Apprentices travel in threes at least, and only with an Initiate to guide them! Damn the guards. Wait here until I return, I need to speak with someone..."

The senior Elementalist produces a small crystal from the pocket of his robe as he quickly gets up and walks off muttering at a fevered pace. The only clear word that Drumlin hears as he abruptly leaves is the word, Silverstream.

Drumlin looks pale white in terror at the thought of the dwarven arch enemies almost gaining a foothold because of his action. Then he remembers the noise and the light down in the tomb. "Bor didn't say he was with anyone else..." he gags seeing his vomit on the floor and gets up and moves way from it following Gul, dispite being told to wait here. "Master Stouthand, wait... there were others I think, I heard them but didn't see them." He hurries along, weakly, after Gul wondering what Silverstream has to do with any of this.

Epilogue "Troubled times are ahead for our people."

The words seem to slip unbidden from Gul's mouth as he and Drumlin stand on the balcony overlooking the tombs. The Necropolis, having rested in darkness for hundreds of years is now awake with dozens of luminous pinpoints, torches in the darkness held by every available guard in the city above. The search will likely take weeks.

The wheels of justice were pushed along all the quicker due to Clan Silverstream, a noble house that Gul still maintained connections with after all these years of training new Elementalists. The nobles were also instrumental in covering this incident up to the extent it could be. Even with the care that has been taken, the rising panic in the streets above was palpable, the word "invasion" on far too many lips already to truly be quieted... not to mention the lack of guard presence on the streets. Crime is steadily rising amongst a jittery populace; the Emperor has started a dole to calm people down, but it's only a stopgap. Something will need to be done soon, and it will most likely have to involve volunteers, whether they be opportunists, private investigators, or heroes.

Yes. Something will most likely have to be done, but the Order of Earth will endure. Gul and Drumlin retire from the balcony after a space, returning to their long hours of study, in effort to master the magic that will be needed in these trying times to come.