Quest Those Who Walk Below

[Vyx'aria]

Spoiler: Note

This is a quest to rescue a character from the Underrealm but also retrieve a TREASURE. Please DM me if you'd like to join.

Night lay thick over the wilds beyond Bhathairk, the orc city’s distant glow reduced to a smoldering stain on the horizon. A few miles out, the cave revealed itself. The air spilling from its mouth carried damp stone and something older still, a promise of descent.

Vyx’aria had gathered them there, dark and still as a carved idol, shadow folding obediently around her form. She turned slowly, eyes moving from face to face.

“This passage does not lead through the mountain,” she said evenly. “It leads beneath it. Down into the Underrealm.” Her gaze flicked toward the cave. “And within it stands the Drow city Zar’ahal. A city that has grown… bold in my absence.”

Her lips curved, sharp and knowing. “A drow mage is being held there. Imprisoned. She once served under my command, and the city believes her loyalty died with my departure.” A pause, deliberate. “Tonight, we break her out.”

Vyx’aria lifted one hand, fingers spreading as shadow gathered at her palm. Dark sigils unfurled like silk threads and reached outward, brushing each of them in turn. The world dimmed, then shifted. Edges sharpened. Stone breathed into view. Darkness thinned just enough to be navigable.

“You will see in the Underrealm,” she said quietly, “but only by my allowance. Stray too far from the group, and the dark will reclaim you entirely. It is… unforgiving to the lost.”

The magic settled, cool and oppressive, a reminder rather than a comfort.

Vyx’aria smiled then, a private, satisfied curve meant only for herself. The mage was merely the first step, the key to a prize far more coveted than any of them could imagine. But she would only reveal this once the first step was complete.

Aloud, she inclined her head, all false magnanimity. “You will be rewarded for your efforts. Gold. Favor. Artifacts from the deep.”

Her eyes returned to the cave mouth as she turned away. “Stay close,” she murmured. “And do not test the dark.”

Without waiting, she stepped forward, the shadows parting to admit her as the path downward began.

Cynical Phoenix Szesh Darkweaver Zay

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria stood at the right hand of her Queen, ready to follow her into any chaos as she always had been. Side by side through thick and thin, it was in the good times and bad that Zathria had stuck beside Vyx'aria. She had no regrets even now.

The moon's rays were hidden behind the clouded night sky and darkness hung like a blanket over the woods, only the faint light of Bhathairk seemed to push back the all-consuming darkness.

She let her hands trace one more time over her equipment, each piece maintained and positioned with perfect efficiency. It was inevitable that conflict would arise and this was not the impotent surface-folk but hardened and cutthroat Drow of Zar'ahal.

The Queen cast her spell for the group and then they were off, Zathria leading the charge into darkness.

They passed by trees and over shrubs before descending into the passage that would lead them to Zar'ahal, its twisting tunnels lined with dirt and stone. To those who had not spent time in the Underrealm it would likely feel stifling, but to Zathria it felt like climbing into a warm bed on a cold night: comforting and reassuring.

She banished the thought as soon as it came. They were not going to anything that resembled safety they were heading into the jaws of a dragon.

She picked their path through the tunnels carefully, occasionally stopping to take note of a fork in the path that might lead them along the wrong way. Eventually, they came to a wider cavern, seemingly empty but Zathria knew better than to assume as much.

"Caverns like this are seldom unoccupied. Watch for cave spiders or worse," she said, her eyes scanning the darkness around them for anything that appeared out of place.

Szesh Darkweaver Zay Sreeya

 

[Szesh]

Szesh was particularly out of place here. Standing head and shoulders above the tallest men, heavily muscled, and wrapped in silver scales, the presence of wings and a tail might not even be the most striking thing about him. A face like a miniaturized version of a true dragon observed Vyx'aria's speech without expression. This was partly because it lacked the necessary musculature for more than rudimentary changes in appearance, but mostly because he preferred that others not know what he was thinking.

He blinked several times as the drow queen's magic altered his vision, notably shaking his head at the sensation. He could have felt anger at the sudden spell... but his vision was strikingly clear all of a sudden. He begrudgingly accepted these developments.

He had begrudgingly accepted a lot of things to be here tonight. Though he had seen Vyx'aria's power and prowess first hand, he was not in any particular hurry to venture into the Underrealm, least of all to rescue some dark-magic-wielding prisoner. Vyx had undoubtedly known this, because she had enticed the sellsword in the most basic and reliable way: with money.

As Szesh followed the small band beneath the surface, he reminded himself exactly how much money had been discussed. As he felt the weight of Arethil grow over him, as the air stilled and moistened, as he hunched and tucked his wings in tightly just to fit through the passages, he envisioned all that he could do with those riches, and how he would never, ever need to do something like this again.

Did he have a certain respect for Vyx'aria's power? Had he been ever so slightly flattered that she had sought him out specifically? Was he curious what this subterranean stronghold might be like? Yes, perhaps, and just a little, but all of those things started to feel less and less important the deeper they went.

Draconians did not belong underground. Szesh was far too large and had far too many limbs to be climbing through tunnels. His innate advantage of flight was useless, and spouts of fiery breath were... complicated in tight quarters. He was grateful when they reached the cavern, and he could once again stand without his horns scraping the ceiling.

"Caverns like this are seldom unoccupied. Watch for cave spiders or worse,"

Szesh inhaled through wide nostrils, but all he could smell was dirt and fungus. He watched the other drow, following their lead in this alien terrain.

 

[J'rell]

Spoiler: Music

The Underrealm. How long ago was it he had been here? An eternity, it seemed. He only remembered the vague sense of natural oppression: from the dark, from the stones, and of course, from its denizens.

Now he had traveled for some time as an unwilling companion to this drow raiding party. A party whose leader held mad ambitions that managed, somehow, to outpace her considerable power.

A journey into Zar'ahal, the sinister heart of drow, for a rescue mission? To J'rell, this seemed unbridled insanity.

But he had given his word. And by his word he would stand, for it had saved many lives in Hollowmere Crossing. However, he knew that fate often had a terrible sense of humour. It was likely that by the end of this oath, he would have sent more souls to the gods than he had saved.

Vyx'aria had gifted them with a portion of her own sight. It aided in drifting through this darkness, like clinging to a raft in an endless, black sea. Of course it came with conditions. Stay close or drown.

The pit in his stomach increased with each depth they plunged, each corridor they navigated. The deeper they went, the more distant turned the memory of the sun, stars and the sibling moons. Some of the few things to have remained the same through the ages; old friends he could always rely on to be there. Now he would even have to leave those behind.

He kept the rear of their guard, a reluctant shadow following in the wake of drow and other mercenaries. Zathria, as always, led eagerly from the front with her charge. Vyx'aria strode speedily through the darkness, near disappearing from the group at every corner and turn, as if deliberately keeping the group on edge; keeping them mindful that they might lose her, if they lost pace.

Among these mercenaries, the draconian stood out. A mighty scaled warrior, taller even than himself. This warrior belonged to sky and fire — what was he doing in these hollow, predatory depths? J'rell recalled his past respect for their race, admiring their controlled ferocity and calm cunning. A shame this one was to be lured by these drow, who was as like to kill them all as to pay them once their usefulness ran out.

At Zathria's warning, he hefted his sheathed blade slung over his shoulder, its weight a reassurance. Since he had joined this warband, he had armed himself with a quiver of javelins as well, and bracers and greaves to grant some marginal protection. A cloak fashioned from a lion's skin lined his shoulders, adding some warmth against the slow, cumulative creep of cold and dread.

A single stone tumbled down from the ceiling, near hitting his sandal. J'rell glanced up, but saw nothing but bulbous, black rocks protruding from the ceiling. He stopped and stared, looking closer, closer . . . willing any of them to betray movement.

They stayed perfectly still.

With an unconvinced sneer, J'rell marched on.

 

[Dante Storta]

Dante was the newest member of this edgy little cadre. He stood at the back and as his eyes magically acclimated to the dark, he couldn’t help but wonder if brooding was this cohort's general state of being. Now, he expected it from the drow, humans had been telling bedtime stories about the Underrealm for time immemorial, but he’d hoped to get some form of entertainment from the Draconian or the other guy. Though to be perfectly honest, Storta wasn’t entirely sure the one called J’rell was entirely human… but if it walked like a duck and pissed like a duck… then sometimes it was just easier to say it was a duck.

Vyx’aria dolled out orders. She was precise, and clear. Two traits he loved in an employer. There was a smaller chance of error when your boss was crystal clear on what you were supposed to do. Then she said the part he was waiting for. They would be rewarded.

Dante’s sneer widened. His imagination wandered at the possibilities. He’d always wanted a sword that could burst into flame— aye? Spiders? Cave spiders?

He scoffed, “What could be worse than cave spiders?”

Even as he said it, Dante took stock of his equipment. He hated spiders of all shapes and sizes and the prospect of running into one bigger than a horse wasn’t ideal, so he’d be damned if he was caught unprepared. The Sellsword wore three daggers, two hidden— one up a sleeve, the other in a boot— and the newest prominently displayed on his sword belt. His broadsword hung in it’s scabbard on his right and a crossbow was on his left. His armor was studded leather, and he’d pulled back the cowl of his traveling tunic because it was dark as hell in here and the air of mystery was lost in the realm’s darkest shadows.

The clatter of falling stone in the cavern caught The Sellsword’s attention, but once it rolled into his line of sight, he let it go. By the gods, one mention of spiders and now he was ready to lash out at any stone that rolled his way…

The group started to move, and he knew it would be a longshot to strike up some form of conversation, but he was bored, and he didn’t see the harm in getting to know the people around him. He slunk up to the Draconian, “So, first time prowling about in the Underrealm?"

Sreeya Cynical Phoenix Szesh Darkweaver

 

[Vyx'aria]

Vyx’aria moved in measured silence beside Zathria, her presence an anchor amid the press of stone and shadow. The Underrealm yielded grudgingly around them, the darkness thick but obedient to her will. It was quiet save for the occasional scrape of boot against rock and the low breath of those unused to depths like these.

And then there was Dante Storta.

His chatter drifted through the gloom like a spark refusing to die. Normally, such noise would have earned a warning glance at best, a blade at worst, but she found, to her mild surprise, that she did not resent it. After lifetimes steeped in silence, secrecy, and reverent fear, there was something grounding about a man who spoke simply because the dark pressed too close.

She allowed the sound to exist.

The cavern widened just enough to feel like a threshold rather than a corridor. Vyx’aria’s attention sharpened, her senses brushing outward. Stone rumbled.

It was subtle. Not a collapse. Not an attack. Just the low, unmistakable groan of ancient rock shifting where it should not.

Vyx’aria stopped at once, raising a single hand. The shadows seemed to still with her.

“…Which one of you,” she asked coolly, without turning, “just stepped on something you were not meant to?”

Dante Storta Szesh Zathria At'Arel J'rell

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

There was a shift that was almost imperceptible as something in the stone groaned. The underground had a pulse of its own and it was almost like it held its breath waiting for the dangers to break free.

Zathria eased one of her sabers from its sheathe with a nearly imperceptible sound, holding it tightly in her hand, the grip adding a level of comfort as her heart began to race, the feeling of adrenaline flooding her body on combat-eve.

The ground rumbled around them and her mind raced through the myriad dangers that could cause such a movement before her question was answered.

It wasn't spiders but a massive worm that roiled out of the darkness and rushed toward them. The creature was at least thirty feet long with long, strange tentacles that reached out to feel the world in the darkness around it. It hunted by use of its many proboscis-like protrusions that touched and grabbed the world around it. At its front a massive, four-jawed maw was lined with razor sharp teeth that were large enough to swallow a man whole, and it was apparently very hungry.

It lunged toward the group, looking to swallow up J'rell in a single go, a delectable morsel to be consumed.

J'rell Dante Storta Vyx'aria Szesh

 

[Dante Storta]

The conversation with the draconian was interrupted by a sudden stop. His mouth was half open as if about to say something when Vyx’aria’s withering gaze slipped across them. Once again his mouth was open to respond when the shuddering of the earth below them stopped him short. Confusion had just settled across his features when the monster burst forth from the ground.

Dante immediately pulled his crossbow and fired. His reaction had been good, hell the shot had even been dead on… unfortunately his bolt lacked the punch it needed to puncture this undulating monstrosity.

Panic clawed at his mind like a— like a… well, like a blasted cave worm.

“Okay, this is worse than a spider, this is way worse!” he yelped jumping back behind a stalagmite before he was grabbed by one of the Worm’s protrusions. His vision immediately started to dim and he cursed. He squinted through the darkness doing his damndest to spot The Queen, it took a moment, suddenly the crew he’d been with were corporeal shadows in the void and it was hard to make out who was who.

Confident he’d spotted her he eased out from cover… just in time to be unceremoniously back handed by the worm’s writhing tail. Dante rolled once, jagged rocks digging and scraping, then he managed to get to his feet. The whisper of his broadsword coming out of it’s scabbard announced his arrival, fortune had placed him next to the queen— Why were there two of her? Oh right, her commander, by the gods, that tail had knocked the sense clear out of him— “Any ideas?!”

Szesh Zathria At'Arel J'rell Vyx'aria

 

[J'rell]

Spoiler: Music

The creature moved with uncanny speed. By the time J'rell saw the group part, divide and retreat before its massive form, his world darkened even further under its saw-toothed tunnel. He managed to draw his orcish blade in a long, protracted snarl of steel from its iron ring, before the giant worm gobbled him up in a swift jerk of its corpus.

In the span of seconds, its head now occupied the space where J'rell had once stood, a spasm of its weird musculature coursing from its alien head past its first tentacles. Its eyeless mouth sought new movement, new blood to consume. It found it in the draconian, wriggling its way towards another large meal in the group, batting off any enemies on its sides with its writhing body.

Szesh Zathria At'Arel Dante Storta Vyx'aria

 

[Szesh]

Szesh was not a good conversational partner. Decades of shameful exile and a fearsome appearance had made the opportunity for practice rare. His mouth was ill-suited to the more common languages of Arethil, though he had improved greatly in recent years. His black-on-black eyes regarded Dante invisibly, but he was able to offer little more than a grunt in response before they were beckoned to stop.

The worm’s approach was preceded by a rumble through the dirt and stone. If not for Vyx’aria’s gift of sight that would have been all that marked its presence. Szesh loosened his wings slightly out of instinct, but there was nowhere to fly in here even if he did open them fully.

He drew his weapon, a long axe with a blade that glinted ice-like… or would have had there been any light. Then worm dove and, horrifyingly, devoured one of their comrades. Then it moved for him.

Flight or no, the cavern was large enough for him to run and jump, so he leapt to the side when the worm neared, kicking off with powerful legs and swinging the axe heavily towards the side of the worm’s head. It bit into the creature’s carapace, though not as deeply as preferred. The slithering beast reeled, then swung its head back in retaliation. Szesh was knocked off his feet, his large claws scraping at the stones as he scrambled to rise before he too could be made a meal.