Demiplane

Zenithral wakes up some time later atop the luxurious bed in the corner of the demiplane room. The door is gone, as is the symbol that caused magical sleep.

At the desk across the room sits the drow woman. Open before her is the case of sending stones. She holds one of the stones in her left hand, and jots down notes with her right. She doesn't seem to have noticed that Zenithral is awake.

Wha..? Zenithral moves his eyes around looking for his bow and quiver or tries to sense if it's still on his person. I'm an idiot...Alalla is going to want to kill me when I get out of here...assuming I do, indeed, get out of here that is...How clumsy must one be to fall forward and roll several meters into a dimensional portal?! This is exactly why Alalla just wanted to leave it be...

Zenithral sees his bow and quiver leaning against the wall near the bed, his pack tucked neatly beside them.

The drow sets down her stone and finishes her notes, then files it tidily into a drawer of the desk. She turns to look over at Zenithral and catches his eye. She blinks and looks away, but not before Zenithral notices the bruises nearly hidden by her midnight skin.

He eyes the bow, but decides against it. If she wanted me dead, she would have killed me already... He starts to sit up, but then realizes just how comfortable the bed is. Maybe some more sleep wouldn't hurt...? "How long have I been out?" Zenithral asks in elvish.

The woman turns slowly to face him. Her golden eyes seem both hesitant and curious. When she replies in Elvish, her accent is quite different from Zenithral's, the vowels more nasal and the consonants harsher than customary for surface elves. But it is the rhythm and cadence of her speech that most strikes him as foreign. "The spell should have worn off hours ago. You must have been very tired." She looks down at her hands, lacing and unlacing her fingers together.

"Fighting a war on such little sleep does that to an elf. Well...half-elf, actually." He tilts his head and looks her up and down. "I am Zenithral Liadon, Arcane Archer of Bryn Shander. I am here by accident, but who are you and what are you doing here? Do you own this demiplane, do you work for the fiends, or something else? I've never considered myself a great judge of character..." He takes a good look around, taking mental notes of the layout, furnishings, and contents.

Her eyes stay mostly downcast as she listens to Zenithral's words. As he waits for an answer, Zenithral finds himself wondering how this dark elf female has such a shy demeanor. In matriarchal drow society, the women are infamous for being larger, stronger, and more willful than the men. But despite the glimmer of intelligence in this woman's eyes, her every behavior seems to be in response to fear.

She finally answers with a simple statement: "I know who you are." Her eyes trace the bookshelves and floor, but watches Zenithral warily out of the corner of her eye (and the archer notices that the shelves are full of books and scrolls, with subjects ranging from history to arcane lore). She seems to find something encouraging in his posture and words, however, and so continues. "My name is Ginafae Despana. I am sister to Malavon Despana, who created this place."

She winces, and turns away again.

Sister...looks like we might have some sibling abuse going on... "Ah, so Malavon is the great magician here. And you are her...sidekick? Servant? Prisoner? If I had to make a guess, those glyphs weren't just made to keep people out. But you needn't answer if you do not wish to...I apologize; I have probably spoken out of turn...How often does Malavon visit?"

Ginafae's eyebrows raise at something Zenithral says, but she waits until he has finished speaking to address it. "Malavon is my brother. He is a very powerful wizard. Sometimes he does not come for days at a time. It depends..."

She puts a hand gingerly to her face. "Of what fiends did you speak, just now? My brother is a good man, but I fear that his current employer is driving him to evil deeds, for all that he dresses like a goodly priest."

She blinks, then lowers her head, white hair falling over her eyes. "But it is not my place to criticize, nor to second-guess."

Zenithral turns red. "Oh...sorry. I was...er...not raised in elven culture and am not as familiar with the gender of names as I would like...to be." He scratches the back of his head. "I wrongly assumed the norms of drow culture carried through to private affairs as well...the only other drow I've met in recent years is a traveling collector of sorts by the name of Nim..."

Zenithral nods. "I know of this 'priest'. He calls himself the Revered Brother Poquelin, a supposed servant of Ilmater, but he is nothing but a Pretender." Zenithral's eyes glow a fierce, radiant white when he says this. ""I do not wish to divulge everything I know, but know your brother's employer is a devious devil in disguise. He confounds, misleads, and manipulates everyone he makes contact with, such as that Pomab fool...and myself..." Zenithral scowls and stands, turning towards one of the shelves.

"You're not wrong to question your brother. No one is ever wrong to have questions," he says eventually. "Your brother may be good, but his actions might have terrible consequences. If he's as powerful as this," Zenithral says, gesturing around to the demiplane, "then it may prove difficult to convince or coerce him otherwise..."

Ginafae's frown at the mention of Nym is enough to show what she thinks of him. "We hardly follow the 'norms' of drow culture - if you can call it culture." She winces again, as though at her own harsh tone. "My brother prefers life outside of drow society - at least on such a grand scale as a city. He dislikes being under the thumb of the matrons..." She stares at a spot on the wall for a long moment.

An ebony hand goes to her lips at the revelation of Poquelin's true identity. "I did not know.... and Malavon, he may not know either! I am sure he would be a better man if not for this job." Her lip curls just slightly in disgust at Pomab's name. "Pomab, on the other hand... I could not believe him to be a good man in any sense of the word."

Ginafae's eyes flick to the walls and she shakes her head in apprehension. "But my brother will not be happy to find you here. He knows of you and your companions, at least from what the reports have said." Her gaze goes to the desk and the sending stones. "If he finds you here in his study, he may kill you - or worse. He hates surface elves as much as the next drow, and is one of the most gifted spellcasters among our people. He even rivaled Gromph Baenre of Menzoberranzan for the position of archwizard of the city."

She grips her own arms as she begins to tremble. "I am sorry! I should not have pulled you into the room as the door was closing, but I did not wish to see you killed!"

The light in Zenithral's eyes fades as he turns to face Ginafae. "Oh..." He sits on the bed solemnly. "If that is true, then I owe you my life. If I were to die from the door closing, and I am to die here, what is the difference? I'd prefer you know the truth and at least have a chance of swaying your brother and die than just me being dead."

Zenithral glances around the room and taps his feet. "Are you a spellcaster? If so, you may be able to help me escape. Or perhaps there are some spellbooks or spell scrolls in here we could make use of...If we can come up with such a plan, I could tell you more about this devil to help you and your brother."

Ginafae holds her hands to her face as though trying to hold the tears in. "I have studied some arcane magic, as there is little else for me to do here. But my own skills are meager. I do not know that I will be of much use..."

She motions to the bookshelves. "Please, have a look."

Zenithral nods and tries to give her a warm smile. "Thank you."

He tries to summon Fluphy and begins scouring the bookshelves for anything that might help him escape the demiplane, specifically to help him avoid detection and death when the door opens. Invisibility? Teleportation? Zenithral regrets not spending more time dabbling in the arcane arts.

Fluphy *poofs* into existence, much to Ginafae's delight. While Zenithral searches the bookshelves, she calls the flumph to her and flips it over, then tickles its underside - and for the first time that Zenithral can remember, his familiar doesn't seem too bothered by being upside down. In fact, the flumph seems to be warbling contentedly. Attention on Fluphy, the drow does give one warning: "The password is 'faern golhyrr'. Be sure to speak it before you touch anything on the shelf."

Armed with the password, Zenithral searches and finds several spell scrolls. An ornate case - likely worth several hundred gold pieces on its own - holds a magnificent dagger with a crimson blade and gold hilt, as well as one very complicated-looking spell. It looks to be a powerful magic created by Malavon himself.

"Fluphy, this is---" Zenithral tilts his head as the flumph floats over to her. He shrugs, remembering the underdark origin of flumphs.

"Faern golhyrr," Zenithral repeats. He looks at Ginafae for confirmation as he tentatively touches a scroll and braces for petrification. After finding himself still conscious and made of flesh, he gets to work.

Ginafae looks up from the flumph as Zenithral handles the ornate box. "My brother is a very talented - even considered a genius of the magical arts. He created that spell himself, his pride and joy." There is pride in her voice, and no small amount of adoration. "I am sure that if only he can be separated from this Poquelin that he will be able to put his talents to better use."

She leans over with interest to look at the dagger, then pulls back. "That was purchased recently from the houseless rogue you mentioned earlier. Nym said he stole it from a dragon's hoard himself." She scoffs. "He nearly charged my brother a dragon's hoard for it."

Zenithral chuckles. "I might know the dragon..."

He leaves the two items in the case, then lifts two of the scrolls he found earlier. "This scroll can potentially send me back to the Material plane," he says holding the scroll of banishment. He lifts the scroll of invisibility "And this one could help me stay hidden when your brother returns. I might be able to get past and out the door if I'm lucky...though I'm not fond of those traps..."

The case of sending stones catches Zenithral's eye. "Now wait just a moment...do you know who each of those contacts? Are they labeled?" His eyes dart around searching for one that matches the one the party had.

Ginafae glances at the scrolls and nods. "Yes, I believe they might -"

Just then, a door appears in the wall.

Ginafae's eyes widen in panic. "My brother comes! Quickly, pick one of those spells, and I will help you!"

"Belhifet. The devil's name is Belhifet," Zenithral says quickly. "He is trying to manipulate soul to help the devils win the war against the demons and take over all. Keep Fluphy with you for now. He may be able to tell you more...perhaps he can even prove my words to your brother through memory."

Zenithral rushes next to the doorway, opens the scroll of invisibility, and attempts to cast it.

(Zenithral tries to cast Invisibility and tries to Hide with Action Surge)

Fluphy floats around trying to feign cheerfulness.

Zenithral ties to stand motionless next to the door and prays he's not noticed. He faces the wall to keep his face hidden if Malavon dispells his invisibility.

Ginafae moves next to Zenithral to help him read the scroll, pointing out some of the tendencies in her brother's arcane script. The spell successfully takes hold and Zenithral vanishes from sight, and then Ginafae sits demurely in the seat by the desk.

Zenithral steps into his hiding spot just as the door opens.

From the corner of his eye, Zenithral sees a figure in rather extravagant red robes enter the room. Ginafae immediately drops to a kneeling position, face to the floor. "Enough of that, sister. What has transpired here? Several of my wards have been disturbed."

Ginafae obediently opens her mouth, but then flinches as the archwizard takes a step forward. As Zenithral strains to watch the exchange, his armor creaks slightly.

Malavon freezes, then looks about in alarm. A moment later, Fluphy toots down from the ceiling to land in Ginafae's lap. "I apologize, brother! I grew lonely, and so conjured a pet here to keep me company. If it displeases you, I shall be rid of it."

"How you pass your time in here concerns me not at all, Ginafae." Malavon turns to look about the room suspiciously, eyes tracing the bed, shelves, and walls. "Unless you are hiding from me something you should not!"

The drow wizard flicks his fingers, and a wall of webs covers the wall where Zenithral is standing, and the half-elf finds himself unable to move as the spiderwebs cling tightly."Who is your sneaky visitor, sister? At least two people entered this room since last last night - possibly more! At least one was an elf, and one was not." Malavon watches the conjured web intently, eyes seeking out just where Zenithral might be.

Zenithral speaks some words from his arcane archer training surrounded by extra syllables from the invisibility spell. He becomes visible, revealing his white hair and black skin."Half," he says in a correcting tone to Malavon. "And he's not a pet, he's my familiar." He jerks his head backwards towards Fluphy.

Malavon rocks back on his heels for a moment, then bursts into laughter. "Conjured a pet' indeed! Sister, the lengths that your 'loneliness' has gone to for 'company' astound me. And all this for a half-breed, no less? Where did you even find him?" He wipes his eyes. "Well... you know my rules about this place. I hope he pleased you, for now I shall have to kill him and put down a few extra wards."

The archmage steps toward Zenithral with hands raised. "Before I erase you from existence, have you anything to say, half-breed?"

"Please her?!" Zenithral says exasperated. "My dear man, you are quite mistaken. That pompous Pomab was leading a group of disguised devils before he was incinerated and left your domain wide open. I was investigating the door and fell to one of your traps and fell inside when it closed. If there's anyone who should be erased from existence it's that pretending priest Poquelin!"

He pauses. "I'm sure you're aware of a flumph's ability to transfer memories, yes?" he says. "He could prove it to you that I speak the truth!"

Malavon blinks. "You must be Zenithral Liadon."

He sighs and turns to Ginafae. "You saved him, didn't you?" His demeanor is suddenly cold as the grave. "And then you lied to me. You should not have done that, sister. We will... talk. Later." The way she shies away from Malavon indicates she knows that the discussion will not be pleasant.

Malavon turns back to Zenithral. "You know so much about Belhifet, hero? Tell me, what is his end goal?"

The wizard does not seem to care enough for Zenithral's flumph offer enough to even acknowledge it.

Zenithral winces. Idiot! Now she's going to suffer for trying to save your skin...

"Now hold on," Zenithral says. "I didn't mention the name 'Belhifet.' You knew you were dealing with devils all along. That, my dear man, sounds like you've been lying to your sister even more than she to you." He shakes his head, still stuck to the wall. "Regardless, I don't know what Belhifet's ultimate goal is, but he seems to be trying to use orc souls to turn the tide of the Blood War and help the devils win and conquer the planes." He shrugs. "Probably also usurp his superiors and take the throne for himself, so to speak."

Malavon's grin shows a number of pearly teeth, all the whiter for his dark skin. "You speak of these things like you understand him. You do not. How many decades have you lived? Multiply that - if you can - by a hundred, and you may be near to guessing how many centuries that creature has fought, bled, and plotted. One as short-lived and shorter-sided as you has no chance of truly comprehending all that Belhifet is. It is all a matter of perspective, and you have none to speak of."

The archmage puffs out his chest. "I have delved into the subject of this particular fiend, you see. Did you know that once, in battle against the demons, he ordered his legions to turn against the other infernal forces and slay them all? Even the demons were taken aback by the brutality of that unexpected slaughter.

He turned to the tanar'ri princes, then, and asked to join them. They were skeptical, of course, until Belhifet revealed battle plans that were soon to be put in motion by the baatezu generals, then offered to return to the Nine Hells and play along with his former allies, and betray them at a critical moment. The tanar'ri agreed, and everything happened as Belhifet promised it would.

With their trust gained, Belhifet fought on the side of the demons for a year and a day and then, finally, led the ruling Abyssal princes into a long-arranged baatezu ambush. The losses that the demons suffered that day put them on the defensive for more than a decade.

For achieving such a smashing success, Asmodeus himself awarded Belhifet with dominion over Avernus, the primary battleground of the Blood War."

Pleased with himself, Malavon folds his arms into his sleeves and raises a white eyebrow at Zenithral. "This is just one example of from a long list of accomplishments. Arrayed against such a foe, do you honestly believe you have any chance whatsoever of stopping - or even comprehending - whatever it is he has planned?"

"Odd. Belhfiet sent a good friend of mine down there to Zariel, who was in charge---Belhfiet a subordinate. It looks like he's been lying to you. Of course, as I said, he could be planning to usurp her." Zenithral metally slaps his forehead. "Ah, of course! Mavalon. I knew I recognized that name. A certain necromancer had you in her war journal along with many others... a usurper she called you...many eyes...well now I just feel stupid...even more so, that is... Zenithral trails off, losing confidence and zeal.

He sighs. You're right. At the moment, I don't actually think I can do anything to stop this plan. I'm just a bowman who wants to protect the Ten Towns and his loved ones...But what is it that you want, Malavon Despana?"

Malavon glowers, a sign that he does not appreciate his information not being up to date. "I tire of this conversation. Belhifet will want you brought to him, and let us just say that if I scratch his back, he will scratch mine."

His hands rise once more...

"No, brother!" Ginafae steps forward, back straight. "Let me have a bit of fun first. He was not so pleasing to me as I had hoped, for I had thought to seduce him and learn what I could of his party's plans. Why else would I save his pitiful life? Please, grant me this satisfaction that so often would have been denied you in Menzoberranzan. I promise not to kill him." As she grins widely, for a moment Zenithral can see the resemblance between the two drow.

At Malavon's pleased nod, Ginafae casts a spell of her own. A boulder of flame suddenly appears in the room, so hot that it warps the air around it. It bumps up against the wall of the demiplane, then rolls through the webs and across Zenithral, setting fire to everything around the half-elf. The flames run across the webs and over his body, and he feels the strands of burning webs fall all about him...

Zen takes 10 fire damage.

...and then Zenithral is free, his bindings reduced to ash.

"Run, Zenithral!"

As Ginafae launches the flaming sphere at Zenithral, Fluphy reacts and grabs onto her.

In an instant, three shadowy arrows fly Mavalon's way, but the illusory shroud seems to have no effect on the drow.

Hoping for the best, Zenithral unravels the scroll of Banishment and cries out the inscribed arcane words, channeling Fluphy's familiar nature to assist in the process. He becomes a blur and rushes out the door and out of Mavalon's line of sight.

(Used Action Surge, Arcane Shot, cast Expeditious Retreat)
HP 88/98 HP
17 AC

Feet sped by magic, Zenithral steps out of the demiplane and into what seems to be a luxurious suite, with finer decorations even than the study he just left behind.

Immediately he turns and looses three arrows back through the portal in the blink of an eye. Malavon holds up a hand to magically deflect them, and even succeeds in stopping one arrow dead in its flight. The second and third arrows, however, blast through his defenses. While the archmage staggers from the arrows puncturing his arm and side, Zenithral successfully rattles off the incantation for the scroll, and Ginafae vanishes with a *pop*.

Malavon lets out a rather undignified shriek of rage. "No! We have no idea where she will end up!"

There are not really any walls separating the rooms, but each location - bed, small kitchen, dining table, study, laboratory, shrine - is raised or lowered just slightly from the others, and has a vaguely circular shape. In all, it gives Zenithral the impression of an eccentric artist's custom-built home.

There is only one other door leading from the suite. With Malavon's gritted curses coming from the demiplane portal, Zenithral heads for the exit and runs outside.

Only it is not truly outside at all. Zenithral finds himself in some sort of spacious underground cavern, in the middle of what looks like a village market, except that everything is made of finely worked stone - although quite aged and neglected. There are small houses, shops, stalls, and several overturned, rotted wooden carts. The architecture all has the look dwarf work; sturdy, fine, and sized for shorter people.

Except that there are none of the bearded folk in sight. What Zenithral does see, however, are two large bipedal insectoid creatures. Each one has the size of an ogre and the musculature of Ug, but is covered in chitinous plates that rival plate armor, and a has great head with sharp mandibles and enormous bug-like eyes.

It takes only a glance into those multi-faceted eyes for Zenithral to realize the maddening danger there. These monstrosities can addle the mind as easily as rip a man limb from limb.

With a clack of mandibles the monsters surge forward towards Zenithral.

"Anywhere is better than with you, my dear man!" Zenithral says as he exits. (Malavon took 26 damage)

...

"Nope. Nope. Nope," Zenithral looks away from the creatures, adrenaline surging through him. His eyes alight, spectral wings sprout from his back, and he flies upwards and over a building, trying to gather his bearings. Cave. Underdark? No, dwarven...Duregar? No, they don't make such industrious artistry... Somewhere mountainous? If he was at Dorn's Deep, now that would be something...

Used Radiant Soul
HP: 88/98
AC 17

Zenithral's wings carry him up above the roofs of the buildings. As he turns about in the air, however, he nearly collides with a low-hanging stalactite. He just barely misses it, but the swerve costs him precious moments. As he straightens out, he hears chanting below him. Apparently Malavon has made it out of the rooms.

Whatever spell the drow is casting is hard for Zenithral to determine, as the drow seems to be just next to the umber hulks. There is no sound of them attacking the wizard, so Zenithral can only assume that they been trained somehow.

As panic sets in, Zenithral struggles to find anywhere that looks safe.

He hears the chanting and tries to identify the spell. If he knows the magician's intent, it could help him escape.

Zenithral opts to head in the direction of the main market road, trusting it to lead to an exit. Would getting out even help him, though? His best ally at the moment was time. If he couldn't survive, he had to make sure Ginafae did, and that meant eluding the drow for about a full minute.

He flies further away and dives down into an alleyway for cover. (Dash)

88/98 HP
AC 17

Zenithral concentrates on the arcane syllables, but recognizes little to go off of. But Malavon's spell he had designed... that was an evocation spell meant harness and redirect energy. Would the drow try some sort of fireball? Ducking for cover sounds like a good idea.

Only Zenithral realizes too late that the chanting has finished... and there is no fireball. What has the wizard done?

A moment later, the stone wall next to Zenithral erupts as one of the umber hulks tears through it like paper. The creature is strong, true, but apparently also capable of tunneling through solid stone at an incredible pace.

As it reaches for Zenithral, he realizes several things...

The creature is magically flying through the air.

He does not know where the second one is.

He is looking directly into this one's eyes.

The monster's claws grope for Zenithral, much like some large spider trying to grasp a small bird. The half-elf barely slips through the thing's grip.

Terror fills Zenithral. He didn't stand a chance alone. Purple light swirls down Zenithrals arm and he fires three desperate arrows into the creature, trying to banish it away for a moment's respite. (Umber Hulk takes 21 damage and must make a DC 15 CHA saving throw or be banished for a round.)

The creature vanishes is a spray of purple sparks and Zenithral flies and dives through a nearby window trying to find a half-decent hiding place.

Used last arcane shot
88/98 HP
17 AC

"I could help you escape his wrath - for a fair price, of course." Zenithral is sure he can hear the smile on the invisible drow's face.

Zenithral glowers. "And what price would that be?" he hisses quietly. "I have nothing on me but the bow."

(If it's another round, Zenithral takes the Dodge action)

"Bow? Ah, yes. You mean that bow. The one I sold to your pretty companion, if I recall." Nym sighs at the memory. "It is a rather remarkable item, procured at great expense. I probably parted with it too quickly. Still, it's worth less than your life, isn't it? I would account it a sufficient trade - and I will even hold onto it for later, should you come by the means to purchase it back."

A *pop* sounds outside - the umber hulk has returned from its extraplanar jaunt.

Nym gasps dramatically. "Better decide soon, kid. I don't dance with Malavon's trained umber hulks."

"It's no use to me if I'm dead and I'm no use if I'm dead either," Zenithral agrees quickly. "Help me escape and it's yours."

"As you say!" Nym whispers. "Quickly, drink this." A potion appears on the floor.

And then there is silence. Complete and utter silence, as though Zenithral has been struck deaf. It is so eerily complete that the half-elf almost loses his balance, as if without his full senses he loses his bearings.

The potion sits on the floor, waiting.

I'm going to regret this, aren't I? He stumbles, crouches down, throws his head back, and drinks the potion.

The potion is one of invisibility. Before his eyes, Zenithral's hands vanish from view.

And none too soon. A nearby wall explodes as an umber hulk bursts through. The effect of sound being entirely gone is beyond surreal. Even the vibrations are missing, making it seem almost like Zenithral is floating rather than standing. He nearly swoons as the umber hulk charges past him and busts through the bedroom door, then vanishes from sight.

But now where is it? Where is the other one? They could be anywhere, even ripping down the wall behind him, and he would never know until it was too late.

A tug on his arm reveals the presence of another invisible being - presumably Nym. The drow pats his arm as if in reassurance, but also to keep track of him.

It is for an interminably long time that Zenithral and Nym stay motionless, masked by magic to be invisible and unheard. Zenithral can barely even feel his own heartbeat. At one point he sees dust fall from the ceiling, and looking up sees an umber hulk twitching it's mandibles only a few feet away. A flash of light from outside draws the creature away.

When the silence recedes, Zenithral finds his senses suddenly assaulted. The movement of air through the cave echoes harshly in his ears as his perception once again gains depth. His heart pounds in his chest, each beat pummeling him like the punch of an ogre.

And he cannot move.

Nym appears in front of Zenithral, sweeping a fantastic cloak behind him as he does so. "Yes, that particular potion was not just of invisibility. But make no mistake, I fully intend to honor our bargain." He pulls the bow from Zenithral's rigid grasp, then holds it up to admire. "As promised, I will keep you from Malavon's hands... as there is another here who I know will pay me handsomely for you - more than that boring archwizard."

He leans forward and pats Zenithral's cheek none too gently. "Nothing personal, Zenithral. I simply wouldn't respect myself if I didn't take advantage of a good business opportunity."

Zenithral's vision goes blurry, but he takes satisfaction in one thing: he managed to concentrate on the banishment spell for its full duration. Ginafae Despana, wherever she is, has escaped her brother.

His consciousness abandons him.