13 // Fight in Salynnya's Lair

Searching the Hemodrain Continued Before the Flame completes its search of the Hemodrain chamber—where Salynnya has been cultivating mysterious onyx stones in blood-fed pools—a series of events unfold.

Smurk, emboldened by his hatred for the Onyx Order, hurls Firebolt after Firebolt at the blood pump in a rage. But instead of destroying it, his magic seems to energize the machinery. Dismayed and furious, he retreats from the room, teeth clenched.

Inspired by Smurk’s defiance, Scraat tinkers with the machine’s control dials, rigging it into a crude, high-pressure trap. It’s not his finest work, but it will detonate if tampered with—a last resort.

Meanwhile, Fert studies the blood-filled petri dishes and notes on the long table. They appear to be part of an experiment analyzing how blood from various races interacts with the onyx stones. The notable entries that catch his attention include:

“Goliaths—strong of body, weak of mind and will—make ideal hosts. The stones resonate with their blood.”

“Harengons—clever and stubborn, but frail—serve better as sacrificial fodder. The stones drink, but do not thrive.”

As Fert reads, Chappy, idly trails a finger on the rim of the blood vats, locks eyes with a nearby onyx shard—and freezes. He stares, entranced. Fert quickly notices and drags him away before the stone’s pull deepens. Minutes later, Chappy regains his senses and warns the group of the stone’s enchanting danger.

Templeton remains stationed guarding their rear after discovering three heavily latched doors hidden behind Onyx Order banners. The looming monolith of blood and stone unsettles him. To stay grounded, he hums softly to himself, a quiet melody from his childhood.

Searching the Prison Cells

Eventually, the group moves on from the Hemodrain to the final locked chamber. Scraat examines the door with care—no traps. With a deft hand, he unlocks it. The door creaks open to reveal a grisly altar, drenched in congealed blood. A skinless body lies atop it, drained and lifeless, while white-shrouded corpses line the floor. To one side, blood flows from a stone basin into the adjacent room where the onyx stones are being cultivated. On the other, five prison cells line the wall.

In the nearest cell lies another massive, skinless body—this one still breathing. The stench of rot is overwhelming. Fert checks the altar and confirms the dead figure is a Goliath. Smurk pokes at a pile of discarded skin nearby, pondering whether it might be edible. Chappy, stunned by the horror, casts Guidance on Scraat, who begins inspecting the blood pump. Templeton, still on guard, grips his axe tighter and hums a little louder.

The Fight

Fert approaches the cell and hears the figure inside mumble, “One with the stone…” Unable to cast Cure Wounds through the bars, he calls to Scraat to unlock the cell. Scraat obliges—but this time neglects to check for traps.

The moment the lock clicks open, the ground rumbles. A surge of liquid echoes through the complex—coming from the direction Templeton is guarding.

From the dark cell, the skinned, eyeless figure groans, “Who’s there?”

“No one,” Fert responds instinctively.

“No one is not a name,” it replies.

Then—a sequence of three soft clicks.

The center door before Templeton shudders. The banner hiding it billows forward. Templeton steps up, planting his feet, and draws his great axe. He mutters a phrase, igniting the hidden magic of his family brooch. His speed sharpens. His breath steadies. He prepare to strike whatever emerges.

An abnormally large, blood-drenched redcap barrels out with a rusted pike. Templeton’s first blow lands true, but he barely has time to recover before two more redcaps charge in behind the first.

The rest of the party snaps to alert at the sounds of combat—screeching roars and the crunch of axe meeting bone. Scraat rushes forward, crossbow raised. Chappy backs Templeton with words of inspiration, his voice steady. Fert moves to assist—but the corpse in the cell suddenly lunges upright, grabbing his wrist.

The eyeless goliath shrieks, “Granguul, son of Bjorn—your father seeks you. He is here. He will find you.”

Before Fert can respond, Smurk slams his dagger down, silencing the ghoul with a single brutal blow.

Meanwhile, Templeton weaves between the redcaps’ attacks. Chappy’s encouragement fuels him, and one by one, his axe finds its mark. Scraat, his focus narrowed to a razor’s edge, fires a bolt with deadly precision, dropping another redcap.

With fire and healing magic flying, Fert and Smurk join the fray. Templeton, bloodied but relentless, delivers a crushing blow that maims the final redcap and sends it sprawling.

It whimpers on the ground. A chance to interrogate?

Fuck that, Templeton kicks the creature toward Fert, who ends it with a single, merciless strike of his staff.