Chapter Text
“The Gilded Raven is thick with the smell of expensive pipe tobacco and roasted boar,” Unai began the story dramatically from behind his screen. “After months of traveling and adventures, your pockets are heavy with gold. But splurging is the furthest thing from your mind. The atmosphere here is… heavy. Too heavy,” he looked at the six players in front of him, inviting a reaction.
“Does anything stand out to us?” To Unai’s right side, Pedri jumped at the chance immediately, straightening his spine. Across from Pedri, Gavi sighed, getting ready for Perception checks.
But next to Pedri, Ferran seemed hung up on the food. “Roasted boar, you say?” he asked Unai with a mischievous smile.
“Hey, hey!” Both Spaniards turned to their right following the source of the noise. “That could have been a companion of mine,” Dean protested, shooting Ferran an icy glare.
“Aren’t we already eating in the tavern?” Jude inquired, confused as to why the topic shifted to food. He was sitting across from Ferran at the large table Pedri had in his living room. One that seemed more suited to hold a feast for guests rather than iPads with character sheets, dice, pretzels, and glasses holding a variety of drinks, depending on everyone’s preference.
“We have gold for more, right?” Ferran crossed his arms defensively. “We should have good meat! We deserve it after we’ve been trapped in that dungeon the past two weeks.”
Dean pressed his lips tightly, still glaring at Ferran judgementally.
“I need the gold for new armor,” Arda whined quietly, glancing not-so-subtly towards Dean. He often let his boyfriend do the talking for him.
Without averting his gaze from Ferran, Dean reached to his right, squeezing Arda’s knee. “Yeah, Unai said splurging is the furthest thing from our minds,” he reminded everyone at the table.
“I did,” Unai confirmed softly, fingers scratching absentmindedly at his chin.
“Which is why I asked,” Pedri’s voice grew deeper and more resonant. He elongated each syllable in a subtle sign that no more interruptions from his companions would be welcomed. “Does anything stand out to us?” His gaze firmly settled on Unai.
“Yes!” Unai affirmed, unable to fully stop the giddiness he felt inside from seeping into his voice. “At the table next to you, a scarred man in battered plate armor is shaking as he holds his flagon. You overhear his conversation with a younger squire.” Unai cleared his throat and continued speaking in a lower register, mimicking a voice worthy of a bruised soldier. “‘It doesn’t matter how many of his skeletal knights we cut down, boy. I saw Lord Valmor run a lance straight through Athendros’ ribs. The Lich just laughed.'”
Pedri scratched the back of his head, face betraying his unease. But the mere mention of a legendary enemy perked Ferran right up.
“‘He doesn’t keep his life in his chest like we do,’” Unai continued speaking just as gravelly to indicate he was still role-playing the scarred man. “‘He’s hidden it in the Tower of Ossuary, locked in a vault that isn’t even in this world. Until someone retrieves that Un-slayable Heart, the Lich-King is immortal. And the Dread-Moors will just keep growing’.”
“We should steal it!” Gavi quipped possibly the most typical thing for a rogue to say. “Someone will pay good coin for it!”
“We should steal it and then kill the Lich-King! No more suffering,” Jude countered stoically, in a typical cleric fashion.
“We should steal it and then kill the Lich-King! It will be a glorious battle,” Ferran’s inner barbarian broke free.
“What do we know about this vault? Or what can we deduce about it?” Pedri ignored the little back-and-forth and addressed the dungeon master directly. As the leader of their party, Pedri often whipped them into shape. Sometimes that meant leading them into battle. Sometimes that meant encouraging them. And sometimes that meant not entertaining them.
Unai gave Pedri a small smirk before answering. “As thieves and masters of the unseen,” he addressed Gavi and Arda, “your ears perk up at the word ‘vault’. You’ve heard rumors of the Tower of Ossuary. It’s said to be the most ‘un-robbable’ place in the realm. And Gavi, your pride is almost insulted by this claim.”
So far in their adventure, there hasn’t been a lock Gavi couldn’t get past. The half-elf thief took center stage whenever their adventures led them to heists. And Gavi was determined not to let that change. His shoulders pulled back, chin tilted upwards. Just like on a footfall pitch, he was confident in his own skills. If a tad proud. Next to him, Jude tried to contain a sweet smile without much success.
“Arda,” Unai’s eyes were drawn to Arda. “You know a vault that’s not of this world usually means it’s tucked into the Shadowfell. Your home turf.”
Arda, the human shadow monk, nodded solemnly as soon as the words registered in his mind.
“Jude,” Unai pressed on, locking eyes with Jude. “The mere mention of Athendros makes your skin crawl. You feel a divine tug. You know the world is sick as long as that heart beats.”
Jude, the human life domain cleric, slid down the chair until his head rested against the top rail, legs sprawling out in a V-shape. His eyes narrowed into slits as he focused on the words. He bit his lips, thinking back to Lathander, whom he served. His deity did not permit evil to be tolerated.
“Pedri,” Unai turned his attention to the leader of the pack. “You feel the lunar connection. You sense that the heart might be phased with the moon’s cycle. And you realize you might be the only one who can see it.”
Pedri, the tiefling lunar sorcerer, nodded in confirmation, and immediately turned to check his notes and character sheet. He was as meticulous during their sessions as he was during football matches. And truth be told, the party would have died five levels ago were it not for his careful planning.
“Ferran,” Unai addressed him next. “You saw the man’s hands shaking. And it pisses you off. You hate bullies. And a King who can’t be killed is the ultimate bully. Plus,” Unai smirked, already anticipating Ferran would like the next part. “You think about how fun it must be smashing something that can’t be broken.”
Ferran, the half-orc berserker, smiled. Their get-togethers were almost therapeutic for him. While he needed to be so precise and calculated on the pitch, he relaxed role-playing as the barbarian that lacked all finesse and discipline years of football instilled in him. And Pedri protested Ferran’s antics as much as it was polite to do so in front of their friends, but deep down, he was happy to see his boyfriend let go.
“Dean,” Unai faced the player directly in front of him. “Luna lets out a low, mournful whimper. She can sense the wrongness of the Dread-Moors even from here. The natural order is broken.”
Dean, the elf ranger, seemed uneasy to jump at the opportunity. Even his wolf, Luna’s reaction didn’t change his mind. “Why should we risk our lives for this?”
“Oh, come on!” Arda whined, elbowing his boyfriend softly.
“Deeeaaaan,” Jude moaned, mirroring Arda’s annoyance. Jude was generally happy to embark on any adventure.
“I’m just saying,” Dean raised his hands defensively. “An immortal Lich-King? We nearly died with that Yuan-ti army last time. I think this is way above us.”
“Only because someone failed that stealth check,” Pedri looked at Gavi through half-lidded eyes.
Gavi groaned, throwing his head back.
“Only because someone immediately jumps to fight,” Jude came to his boyfriend’s defense, glaring at Ferran angrily. “We still had the chance with the Charisma check!”
But Ferran simply smirked. “We bulldozed through the army. That Wall of Fire was beautiful, by the way,” he added more softly, shooting Pedri an appreciative glance. Pedri couldn’t suppress a smile on his lips. “We can do this. Let’s just go there and tear that Tower down!” Ferran happily assured the group.
“And die in five seconds?” Gavi countered, scoffing. “No. We need a map.”
“Oh! Do they sell maps of Tower of Ossuary vaults at the marketplace?” Dean jumped in, tone sarcastic.
“Maybe a Thieves’ Guild has a map?” Arda inquired, not very confidently. His eyes held a hopeful spark as he looked at Gavi.
“Information from thieves’ guilds comes with a hefty price,” Gavi whined, deflating.
“Do you have someone who could maybe help sweeten a deal for us?” Pedri asked Gavi deadpan.
“Uhhh,” Gavi checked his notes on his iPad. “I have friends among the Shadow Thieves in Waterdeep.” He seemed outright jolly for a few seconds. “Well, maybe. One of them tried to cut my pinky finger last time we met.”
Arda giggled and Jude’s palm collided with his own forehead.
“The other disappeared in Channathwood a few weeks ago. And the third one is dead,” Gavi announced dryly.
“So, we tear that Tower down,” Ferran repeated merrily, snapping his hands together confidently.
“We need a plan, though,” Pedri said softly, turning to face his boyfriend beside him.
Ferran melted in his seat, looking into Pedri’s pleading gaze. But before he could say anything, Unai’s voice had all six men focus on the dungeon master in an instant.
“Luckily, the man overhears your little, uhm, banter,” Unai announced, a slight mischievous tone in his voice. “He turns to your table, and takes one long look, studying each of you. After pondering for a few moments, he shoves his chair back, and the screech of wood against wood catches your attention. Then he stands up and approaches you.”
“Oh, boy…” Dean muttered under his breath.
Unai cleared his throat. “‘You lot look like you’ve seen a few battles,’” he spoke in a rugged, gravelly voice again. “‘If you’re crazy enough to try, I know a guy who worked in the kitchens in the Tower before he escaped.’”
Gavi smirked while Pedri raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Arda forgot to blink as he drank in Unai’s words.
“‘But a heist like that?’” Unai continued role-playing as the man. “‘That ain’t for the faint of heart.’”
Ferran immediately straightened at the words, chest pushing out. His barbarian pride didn’t let him accept any accusations of cowardice. “Who are you calling faint of heart?” he barked.
“Please excuse my companion here,” Pedri didn’t waste a second to deescalate the situation. “The ale seems to have gotten straight to his head.”
“The man leans in, and his voice drops to a whisper,” Unai announced and began whispering himself. “‘You don’t understand the scale of it, my friends. Athendros didn’t build that tower. He grew it from the bones of a fallen titan. But the Vault? Not even the Lich-King could produce something like that. That was the work of Vaxen the Clockmaster.’”
Arda gasped. “I know him!” he struggled to keep his voice to a whisper, but his excitement was difficult to contain. “My order knows him! He is the man that tries… tried to freeze shadows.”
“Freeze shadows?” Pedri inquired curiously.
“Yes! Freeze shadows! That means we can’t enter with a key.”
The thief’s shoulders slumped visibly at the words. Gavi sighed and addressed Unai. “Can I roll Investigation to see if I recognize that name? Maybe I know of any back doors he famously leaves in his designs?”
“Absolutely! Roll it,” Unai encouraged Gavi.
Gavi picked up his d20 dice and rattled it in his cupped palm with a loud exhale. The dice skittered on the table. “22 total,” he announced.
Unai nodded, slightly impressed. “The name clicks. You remember a scroll you once lifted from a Master Burglar in Baldur’s Gate. Vaxen had a signature flaw. His Ego Vent. He believed his machinery was so perfect it needed to breathe ethereal exhaust. So you realize there must be a ventilation shaft leading from the Ethereal Plane directly into the vault. It’s too small for a half-orc,” he looked at Ferran, who simply shrugged. “But perfect for a half-elf,” his attention returned to Gavi. “Or a wolf,” he added, nodding in Dean’s direction.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Jude interrupted, brow furrowed. “What is this Ethereal Exhaust made out of?”
“The souls of the commoners Athendros has killed,” Unai’s reply was immediate.
Gavi, Ferran, and Arda groaned collectively.
“No, no, no,” Jude protested vehemently, shaking a finger at the three men who dared complain. ‘If we use that vent, we travel through suffering! People suffering! We need to destroy the vent.”
“You can’t all go through the vent,’ Unai corrected him. “Those of you that are taller won’t fit inside.”
“We are not separating,” Jude blurted.
“Separating?” Ferran echoed. “Nooo, I don’t like that,” he added, shooting Pedri a protective glance. He relied on his muscles to keep the sorcerer safe. “Who’s going to keep the enemies off your back? I say we break the front door. Build our own vent.”
“You think it’s about smashing the walls?” Gavi countered, eyes wide with disbelief. “That place will likely have traps for days. In the vent, we can go in slowly. Undetected. I can get us past the triggers.”
“Even if Luna fits in the vent, I’m not letting her go without me,” Dean cut in. “Besides, if the exhaust is ethereal, doesn’t that mean planar energy?” he looked at Unai worried.
The dungeon master merely nodded, biting back a knowing smile.
“We’ll need you to shield us or we’ll be turned inside out before we reach the Heart,” Dean pleaded with Pedri.
From behind Pedri, Ferran shot the ranger an exasperated glare. Pedri checked his sheets, unaware of the reproachful torrent his boyfriend was preparing for Dean. “I can do it,” Pedri confirmed, voice strained. “But only during the New Moon. My power is the strongest then. That means we have…” He paused as he ran the math in his head. “Three days to get there. Or we wait another month.”
“Or we make ourselves a door,” Ferran mumbled angrily behind him.
“So, we’re separating?” Arda asked like a lost puppy.
“Yes!” Pedri and Gavi answered benevolently at the same time.
“No!” Jude and Ferran barked in protest in the same breath.
Dean rolled his eyes, smirking.
“This is people suffering we are talking about!” Jude turned to Gavi, and placed his hand on the Gavi’s shoulder while he tried making his case. “We need to destroy it.”
“Destruction brings a lot of attention on us, Jude,” Gavi looked at his boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Our target is the Heart. We steal the heart, then we can destroy whatever’s in the exhaust. Don’t let Lathander get in the way. We need our heads now.”
“Yes,” Pedri acknowledged Gavi’s counterpoints with a small smile. “It’s easier to pray for forgiveness than for permission, right?”
Jude and Ferran found each other’s eyes across the gap. It was like looking into a mirror of their own defeat. Jude let out a shuddering breath, and Ferran’s shoulders dropped in unison.
“Can you believe we’re putting up with this shit?” Ferran’s voice was a mix of annoyance and amusement.
“We’re idiots in love, huh?” Jude commiserated playfully.
Ferran clapped thrice determinedly, before lifting his beer glass. “Cheers to that!”
Jude lifted his own Cuba Libre cocktail, and they clinked their glasses together as Gavi groaned and Arda giggled. Pedri rolled his eyes, amusement flickering in his eyes for a couple of seconds before reverting back into the role of the leader. He cleared his throat.
“We’re doing this,” Pedri spoke firmly, watching his boyfriend taking a big gulp of beer. “We’ll eat, sleep, and depart for the Dread-Moors first thing in the morning.” He looked around the table as if daring someone to contradict him. No one did. Finally, his eyes settled on the dungeon master.
“Perfect,” Unai clapped his hands together for emphasis.