The Triad

Knowing she has no time, Alalla jumps up to the ledge of hardened mass above just as her footing gives way. Her hand slaps down onto the ledge and her fingers scramble to find purchase, while her other hand twists about to wrap the rope connecting her to Zenithral and Halla more securely around her wrist.

And that’s all she has time for, as Zenithral and Halla start to fall.

For a moment, Alalla feels like she might be torn in half. But her corded muscles bulge as the dragon heart beating in her chest fills her body with adrenaline. But her hand on the ledge begins to slip… and then the strain lets up as Zenithral’s quick spell comes into effect. At the same time, Halla transforms back into her human self, arms held tightly around Zenithral.

And none too soon, as the fleshy maw falls down to engulf them. They pass through the middle of the mouth, narrowly avoiding the jagged teeth around its edge, and a few moments later hear a *whumph* as the mouth hits the floor below.

Hanging inside the slack tentacle-throat, Alalla by one hand and the other two by the rope, the companions can only wonder what their fate might have been had they reacted any slower. Even in its sleep, Ityak-Ortheel is a deadly threat to navigate.

With the droning much lessened by the thick throat around them, the three find it easier to communicate. Alalla exhales, then trembles as she raises her lower hand (and the two people hanging from it a dozen feet below) up to also grab the ledge above. Then with herculean effort, she heaves herself, plate armor and all, up and over the lip of the edge. From there, with secure footing and two free hands to work with, she easily helps Zenithral and Halla make the climb up to join her.

As the trio catches their breath, they find themselves in the innards of the Beast. Thick, warm mucus coats the walls here, and the way ahead looks cramped enough that the heroes will likely have to crawl to continue with their quest.

"Blood can make it easier to find loved ones," Al groans, picking herself off the floor and thinking about all the orcs she cares about that she never would have a year ago. "But long dead people? I dunno either."

With the odd familiar leading the way, the companions squeeze through slimy, stinking tunnels, sometimes hunched over, and often crawling. Halla’s lit hair seems to penetrate the walls somewhat, showing membranes and veins running through it all. After a quarter of an hour, Fluphy gives a low moan and sucks its eyestalks and tendrils almost entirely within itself. A quick telepathic message indicates that ahead is the chamber of sludge that it saw on its last visit through the Beast.

Indeed, as the companions peer into the chamber, they notice crimson light occasionally breaking the surface of the thick liquid.

Zenithral’s paper falls to the sludge. Its descent into the murky depths is slow, as though perhaps the paper is too light to sink.

Then the crumpled ball of paper is ejected from the pool and falls directly at Zenithral’s feet.

When Alalla’s boot touches the liquid, it doesn’t feel like liquid at all. It gives slightly under her weight, but then solidifies into something like firm glass. The crimson light below swirls, and then she can see a large red sphere float up to just beneath the surface, emanating that light. She knows what it must be a moment before it rotates, looking up at her with baleful iris and pupil.

This can only be the Eye of Gruumsh.

Staring straight at her.

Each step Alalla takes is met with the same resistance under her feet.

The Eye gives no sign of understanding Alalla’s inquiry. It continues its awful stare for a long moment.

Then the pool changes.

Alalla feels a ripple beneath her boots, and then the liquid before her rises slowly up, congealing on itself layer by layer, the Eye floating upward within the column of gunk. The mass begins to take humanoid shape, but on a larger scale. Arms extend outwards, becoming muscle for a moment before being covered in ridged plate armor. Alalla can tell what the form is long before its finished, as the Eye takes its place near the top of the thing.. A horned helmet forms over the head, leaving the Eye to stare out of one of the visor’s sockets.

When the transformation is complete, there stands the intimidating likeness of Gruumsh towering over Alalla. It holds a wicked spear, the nasty barbed end pointed down to her like a condemnation of everything she has become.

Interestingly, Alalla notes that though it is an accurate resemblance of Gruumsh, the glowing Eye sits opposite from where Gruumsh’s would normally be. As though Gruumsh were to look in a mirror, this would be his reflection.

The Gruumsh-thing doesn’t move. It almost seems frozen in place, or in time.

In response to Zenithral’s words, a second form rises from the pool. This one is slender. One hand is pressed to its side, holding in a grievous injury. The other hand holds a shining sword. Alalla and Zenithral both recognize this figure, for they spoke to Corellon Larethian himself not long ago, and it shares his exact likeness.

The two still forms rotate to face one another.

And then they fight.

Gruumsh’s spear thrusts hungrily forward, eager to spill more of Corellon’s blood. But the elven god is too quick. A mere shift of his feet, and the spear passes within an inch of him. In a flash, Corellon leaps upon the spear and runs up its shaft, sword blurring as he slashes upward…

And once again the two forms are still.

No, they merely slow.

As if swung through heavy molasses, Corellon’s sword strikes true across Gruumsh’s face. Then Corellon kicks off his opponent’s chest and flips backward in a slow graceful arc, though on landing his foot slips. Vibrant blood leaks from the wound on his side.

Time resumes its normal pace.

The orc god falls back, hand reaching for his torn eye socket - but the Eye is no longer there. With a wet thunk the glowing orb lands before Alalla and rolls against her boot.