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#Hogar Steelshadow V
lumendelmari · 1 year
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Chapter Thirty-Five
Preparing for War
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1485 DR / Day 38
Ghohlbrorn’s Lair, Gracklstugh
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“Here we are,
Different paths led us here,
Now we stand,
Happily drunk, united as one, ready to fall.
You will rise,
Warriors of rock, sweet children of mine.
Allfather's best,
Protected by faith, we're an army ready to fall.
Together we stand, together we fall,
When we do die, we meet in the hall,
The eternal feast goes on,
Warriors unite, we will stand up and fight,
See the flagons fly in Valhalla!
If we all die, we will feast on a high.
For the mead is flowing in Valhalla!”
Those were the lyrics exuberantly sung in Ghohlbrorn’s Lair that afternoon. One drink had turned into two, quickly becoming three and then four. Lizva kept them coming. The four companions soon lost count of how much they’d consumed and how much time had passed. Then when Fargas offhandedly asked Zelyra if she knew any tavern ditties, the half-elf shared the ‘mead-song’ taught to her and Arlathan by the half-giant, Krom. The barbarian had periodically chanted those verses and many others throughout their various battles against the cultists of the Gol’Goroth. The song quickly became a favorite of Arlathan’s—it mentioned mead, after all. [1]
The adventure in Goldleaf felt like an entire lifetime ago. Zelyra had been trapped in the Underdark for nearly four tendays now. And yet, the druid could admit that time spent was not all bad…
Fargas learned the lyrics in no time. The halfling currently stood on a table, tankard raised in the air, as he and a red-faced Zelyra led the entire common room in a rousing sing-along. Kazimir and Derendil pounded on the table for background accompaniment. Various non-duergar patrons who had come in to drown their sorrows or were looking to relax after a long day added a chorus. Even the stern-faced barkeep, Lizva, tapped a toe in time with the beat. This was the liveliest the Lair had been in some time, and as she was making a killing from the ale sales, the duergar was not about to stop the chaos.
“What’s Valhalla?!” a random svirfneblin called out.
But in their revelry, Zelyra and Fargas did not hear the question.
“Show no fear (warriors)
We must fight 'til the end (brave and free)
Glorious in battle (warriors)
Challenging death (brave and free).”
It was an extremely confusing scene for the other half of the party to walk into. Specifically, the half that had just spent several hours in the temple of Laduguer with Grinta and Thangus Ironhead after interfering in an assassination attempt against the latter. Fraeya had been fatally wounded in the crossfire. But the rogue still drew breath thanks to Thangus Ironhead’s gratitude and mercy.
The cleric of Laduguer had managed to heal much of the damage wrought by the assassin’s blade but warned that it could be a day or two before Fraeya regained full use of her voice. Due to the stitches that now lined her throat, the drow could only speak in a whisper, and it was painful to do so. So, for the time being, Sarith was Fraeya’s voice. The rogue would telepathically communicate anything she wished to say via sending stone for the warrior to repeat aloud. Sarith was not thrilled about it but recognized it was the best solution given the circumstances. [2]
Fraeya put on a strong front during their walk through the Blade Bazaar. But as soon as the group descended from the public eye and into the Lair, the façade dropped. The rogue lethargically draped an arm around Sarith’s shoulder for support. The warrior was stunned by the action—after all, how often did a female drow show weakness in front of a lesser male—but did his duty to help her along. Balasar, Eldeth, and Nine were also fighting their own bouts of exhaustion and irritation. And now, after their horrible ordeal, to walk into the Lair and find the others reveling…and drinking! They were none too pleased.
“What’s going on here?” Eldeth cried out.
. . .
Read more here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35100307/chapters/118576672
or
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13962836/35/The-Grey-Warriors
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lumendelmari · 2 years
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Chapter Thirty-Two
A Brewing Storm
1485 DR / Day 37
Ghohlbrorn's Lair, Gracklstugh
Even after a much-needed respite, the adventurers felt no more rested upon waking than before they fell asleep. A dark cloud hung over their heads, for they held knowledge no sane individual would want to possess. The City of Blades was in more far trouble than the companions could have ever guessed when they began gathering intel for Captain Errde Blackskull under threat of exposure to their drow pursuit. Now they held all the cards. Once they reported their findings, Blackskull, and all the rest of Gracklstugh, would indisputably stand in their debt.
Fraeya and Sarith were the first to rise but kept to their lodgings for a while. Not much conversation was exchanged between the pair during that time, but they did take time to clean the dirt and grime from their armor and sharpen their weapons. Eventually, the two dark elves ventured to the common room and ordered breakfast for the entire party. They then quietly sipped on cups of boiled matsutake and kelp broth with a splash of firewhiskey added while waiting for their companions to join them.
The others slowly trickled in, all looking as haggard and drained as Fraeya and Sarith felt. Balasar was the only one who showed any sort of cheer. The rest the dragonborn had taken the previous night was the most fulfilling since his capture, and he was presently ignorant of Gracklstugh’s impending doom. Last to wake, unsurprisingly, were Zelyra and Kazimir. They had stayed up far later than anyone else, after all. But once the group was assembled, and those who had not been at the Forge the previous night got over the shock of finding their lost bronze dragonborn companion among them again, it was time to fill Balasar in on everything that had occurred in his absence.
Stool and Rumpadump released plumes of rapport spores that enveloped the gathered party in a thick yellow haze. Of course, a telepathic link was far better than risking a stranger eavesdropping on their private conversation. But it was liable to appear strange to the patrons of the Lair, especially those who had never met a myconid.
Sure enough, the haze garnered at least one adverse reaction...
Read more at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35100307/chapters/113598805
or
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13962836/32/The-Grey-Warriors
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