The Plight of Golun-dal

Having agreed to retrieve the speaking stone artifact, the party decided to make haste for Hag's Glen. Yel-loch appointed Harbunpil and Yarkest--the resident boulder throwing champion with heterochromia iridium--to take the party down the mountain, and told them the warren required a few of their number as collateral in case they were really just making up this mevvensettlan sighting, as some suspected. The party elected Prex, Kargi, and Dunny to stay behind as guests of the giants while they journeyed south. Dunny was confused and kept trying to run after the group, and then back to Kargi, and then back to the group. Eventually Kargi reined him in and as the group slipped out of the warren they heard a baleful howl follow them into the night.

Travel down the mountain was easy-going on the backs of the athletic, graceful, giants. Safad turned into his backpack/sleepsack/bedroll to get some much needed rest. He found it difficult with a spit-lubricated finger finding its way into his ear every five minutes just as sleep was about to find him. Damned those dark elves and their odd customs, he thought. Eventually his fatigue overtook him, and he drifted off to pleasant dreams of fireballs flying at vaguely Slothrop-like boulders...

Harbunpil told the group they would stop for a Dramscaper, some kind of hermetic, wild stone giant that had some facility with magic. As they traveled, he explained that being on the surface, out of the warren, was an unnerving experience for stone giants. It was a land that felt fake, where the typical order of society broke down, and actions had no consequence. Those who lingered too long on the surface sometimes went mad. Such was the creature they picked up--it didn't talk much and kept to itself, but it seemed to listen to Harbunpil's commands. 

The first night at camp was a strange one. The group set up among a pile of boulders, out of the wind, and just below the treeline. Without Kargi to get camp ready, they toiled themselves working to get the place all set up. Ironica cooked a pigweed stew and it turned out pretty well. Golun-dal brought Nancy a bowl and settled in next to her. Nancy was a little irritated at his dogged presence. She felt suffocated, and decided to spice it up a little. She dug into her bag for the mushrooms that she and Slothrop had picked up in the Fungal Pools of Myth Sveldin. She gave Slothrop a head nod, who nodded back, and they broke bits off the dried fungus. She offered some to Golun-dal as well, and the three of them cheers'd their imminent trip, as the placed the fungus in their mouth and waited. 

That familiar feeling soon overtook them. They saw the sparks from the fire float up, briefly forming the kind face of a woman, before floating up and up into the night where they glimpsed the constellations that seemed to follow them everywhere. They felt so small in the vastness of the night sky, but it was somehow comforting. Slothrop's innate faerie fire and dancing lights spells leaked out of his consciousness and joined the sparks, forming warm and wild chromatic designs that seemed to reflect his new perspective. Nancy and Golun-dal joined in and together they painted the colors of the freedom, love, and chaos. Dala'gse showed them some new nature magic he picked up, from watching Bask, he claimed. A small pine cone he held in his hand slowly unfolded and grew into a mini pine tree. Golun-dal hugged Nancy close. Slothrop sat back and smiled. 

And then things took a poor turn. 

Suddenly, from Golun-dal's outstretched hands erupted a green eldritch cloud that somehow both reflected and absorbed light. He began speaking in a deep, terrible voice, and a horrifying ancient language spilled off his tongue. Safad sat up, alert. He began stroking his dagger and speaking to Rook, who was perched nearby. Nancy patted Golun-dal's back and he slowly returned to his normal self. Slothrop was wigged the fuck out. 

As the trip subsided, Golun-dal turned to Nancy for comfort--he was terrified at what he'd done. He didn't know what to say. This newfound vulnerability struck a chord with Nancy in her altered state. She saw his pulse throbbing in his strong neck, beating a rhythmic vigor against the red-dyed ink of his tusk tattoos. She led him off to the side off the campsite, at the edge of the darkness, and shared with him more of her halfling ways. 

A confusing moment followed where Safad attempted to magically message the coupled pair, only to realize the error in his timing, as he bashfully withdrew and brooded silently on this newfound worry until morning. As Nancy and Golun-dal lay together on the bedroll, Golun-dal turned to her and spoke. 

"I have not been completely honest with you. I told you that I learned some small magiks from a wizard that I killed, but that is not the truth. The truth is much darker."

This is getting interesting...Nancy thought.

"The truth is that I was hired to protect our tribe's shamans as they performed a ritual they had been working towards for many years. They were summoning some kind of a fiend, for it to bestow some dark and terrible power on them. Some others and I were meant to be protection if the creature escaped. But when the evil thing appeared, it ignored the shamans and chose me. I can do magic because it gave me magic. I then escaped." 

Nancy said he needed to tell the group. He was terrified but she assured him she would be there with him and support him. 

As Ironica was preparing quail eggs for breakfast, Nancy cleared her throat and said, "Golun-dal wants to talk about what happened last night." She looked over at him. "Go on," she urged. 

Golun-dal looked downcast as he explained what he had told Nancy. How he used to be just a lowly offal-pit cleaner, charged with protecting the shamans during a ritual summoning of a fiend. But the fiend overlooked the shamans and spoke to him. Safad interjected, asking what the fiend told him. 

Golun-dal explained that he did not remember, that it was a blur, but that it involved the promise of an awesome power, if he agreed to a blood pact with the demon. Golun-dal, to his shame, agreed. In an instant, he felt a darkness surge within him and bubble to the surface. The fiend was gone and the shamans turned on him, but he escaped with his new power. He ran--ran until he ran into the party at the ruined inn on the High Moor.

The party was concerned. They said they could not trust this darkness within him. 

Golun-dal was pained and said, "I have this power, in my weakness I agreed to the fiend's pact, but I do not want it. I am not darkness, I am light, and I want to be rid of this burden. I just want to learn real wizard magic and live my own life away from the Red Tusks. Please, my new friends, help me." 

With such a vulnerable, truthful appeal, the group agreed they would help him. Little did Golun-dal know at the time how fickle that promise would turn out to be. 

The next day, the group made good time down to where Zireael remembered the entrance to the glen was. As they approached they saw the two kidney-lung shaped lakes that marked the glen, and on a rock in the middle of one of the lakes was a young elven woman. She called to Zireael who went to her, and helped her through the water back to the group. Slowly, the young woman transformed into the familiar shape of the Lady of the Glen. She led the party into her cabin, commenting on their stone giant travel companions, and saying something to them in their language. They waited outside as the group piled inside.

Golun-dal told Nancy he immediately felt anxious and did not want to be there. She comforted him and told him it would be OK. He trusted her. 

The Lady of the Glen assumed they were back for the speaking stone, and said they knew the terms--give her the Orog and the stone was theirs. She bid them take some of the newest bread she had made. As they ate, they talked among themselves, quickly coming to the decision that they should just give up Golun-dal, betray his trust, and take the stone.* Seemed easy enough. 

They told the Lady of the Glen they would accept her offer. They gave a performative nod to asking about Golun-dal's well-being in her care, but with the speaking stone in their hand, they barely heard her reply. Golun-dal was confused about what was going on. The Lady of the Glen claimed her prize, grabbing him by the hand and leading him upstairs. He finally understood. As the group filed out the door, Golun-dal called back to Nancy, "So this is it. I understand. You were just using me." He turned and went to his fate. 

Harbunpil and Yarkest couldn't believe the group really had Mevvensettlan with them. They held it close and spun it delicately in their hands. They were entranced, and deeply emotional. Harbunpil thanked the group for their honesty, that they did not make up seeing this stone. He was eager to get going back up the mountain. Back to reality. As the group set off, they heard the cabin door open and saw the Lady of the Glen busying herself on the her porch. 

"Thank you for my new toy! Thought you might want to know: the shells are on the march. Safe travels!" she called cheerfully. 

With the cabin fading from view behind them, the group recalled their first meeting with the Lady of the Glen and the cryptic words she spoke:

When whitestone gives way to black earth and the shells come in with the tide, you will find aid from stone or from iron or from blood.

They were fairly certain they now had stone and iron. Maybe that would do. For what, they were less sure...











*This depiction was slightly uncharitable. The group tried for the better part of an hour to persuade her. Ironica stabbed her with a dagger that then disintegrated. Golun-dal summoned an eldritch darkness. Slothrop spoke. Alas.