(A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I felt I deserved a break between stories. I'm a lazy bum, I know. Anyway, here's the first chapter of the second installment in a two-part story. Bear with me...I went through five versions before I came up with this. Please remember to review after you read and tell me what you think.
Note: This story is a sequel to Dependence I: Heartsinger, another NwN fic I wrote, so you should probably read that if you haven't already.
Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights does not belong to me. Thank-you.)
Chapter One
"Waterdeep. One of the greatest cities in all of Faerun, it is home to a multitude of peaceful town-folk from all races and all walks of life. Beneath Waterdeep, however, lies a different realm. This is the deep dungeon known as Undermountain, built by the mad wizard Halaster. Here Halaster tests adventurers who trespass therein with the most dangerous of traps and the deadliest of creatures. All but the luckiest meet their deaths in its dark halls.
"Regardless of this presence beneath them, the people of Waterdeep felt safe enough, for while one may enter Undermountain, it is rare that anything actually comes out...until now. For there is another realm beneath even Undermountain, a place of shadows and evil known only as the Underdark. It is here that the sinister dark elves known as the drow rule next to other subterranean horrors unknown to most on the surface world above. And it is here that the drow now lead an army of these creatures into the streets of Waterdeep, besieging the city in a campaign of blood and terror.
"In their darkest hour, the Lords of Waterdeep have issued a call for a hero...someone who can face these dark elves and all their brethren in their own land. Someone who can defeat the hordes of the Underdark."
So read the pamphlets spread throughout the continent in hopes of garnering a hero's attention. And so they did. All sorts of heroes came to Waterdeep in response to the call from all corners of Faerun; there were village champions, who supposed the drow and their accomplices would be no more difficult to defeat than that dire boar they slew last year; there were old wizards, stretching their creaky joints and gathering their scrolls, assuming they'd be more competent than any youth; there were ornery rogues, reasoning that if they couldn't do anything to help fight, they could at least scrounge up some valuable loot in Undermountain. There were aspiring adventurers, looking for a thrill and glory to their name; there were wanted criminals, wanting themselves to clear the bounty on their heads; there were cast-out half-orcs, hoping people would appreciate them at last; and there were more, many more. But perhaps the most unlikely candidate of all is the focus of our story, a small green kobold by name of Deekin.
Though the author of the popular epic tale "Shadows of Undrentide", the kobold was far from cheerful, having lost someone very dear to him just under a year ago. Umbra haunted his dreams at night and occupied his thoughts during the day; when Deekin heard news of the attacks in Waterdeep, he decided they would be the perfect thing to write about, and might take his thoughts off Umbra. Besides, it had always been a dream of his to travel to the great metropolis that was Waterdeep. So he packed his belongings and set off with brightened spirits, arriving in the city two months later. He had high hopes for this place; Deekin had oft been chased out of the villages he visited, and was anticipating a visit to the city which was "home to a multitude of peaceful town-folk from all races and all walks of life". Surely, they would be more tolerant of his race...
At the time our tale begins, Deekin was being chased through the streets of Waterdeep by two guards and seventeen citizens wielding torches and pitchforks.
"Oy! Get o'er here, kobold!" a man shouted, tossing at Deekin a tomato as red and swollen as his own face and missing.
"I've got a chunk o' ham for ye, deary!" a ratty old woman screeched, stumbling over a curb and narrowly avoiding setting herself ablaze with her own torch.
"How dumb they thinks Deekin be?" Deekin cried incredulously, heart pounding frantically as he did his best to outrace the angry crowd. The mob followed him closely at first, then gradually fell back as the chase went on. The city people were far less used to running than Deekin, and after a half-hour the mob dissipated; seeing that the citizens had given up, the guards followed suit. Deekin breathed a deep sigh of relief and slowed his pace, but kept a wary eye. This wasn't the first time he'd been chased by an angry mob, and he doubted it would be the last--he'd only been in Waterdeep a day and had already been pursued on three seperate occasions. He frowned and sighed again, depressed by the racism all around him, and looked up at the sky.
The curtain of night had fallen, black and starless; the moon was alone tonight. The darkness cloaked the city entirely, reminding Deekin of the complete blackness that composed the Shadow Plane. Remembering this, of course, made him remember Umbra. He could picture her in his mind--shrouded in darkness, wandering the plane aimlessly, cold and alone...
Deekin shook his head and turned his mind to more immediate matters, though his heart still ached. It was nighttime now; he had been headed for the inn called the Yawning Portal, where the heroes were supposed to meet up, but had been sidetracked by too many mobs. Night was the worst time to be wandering the streets of Waterdeep these days, for the creatures of the Underdark are most at home where it is dark, so most of their attacks took place well after sunset. Because of this, Deekin didn't dare try to reach the Yawning Portal now. He'd best find another inn nearby, or at least a tavern, where he could wait until morning and set out again.
This was easier thought of than done. Three inn managers and four bartenders in a row shooed Deekin away, some with weapons in hand. Dejected, Deekin searched the streets with waning confidence and waxing imagination, glimpsing monsters in the shadows as he hurried along in pursuit of a place to stay. At last, he saw a weather-beaten wooden sign hanging from a pole that flapped in the wind and read "Strong Arms Inn". Deekin hesitated before running toward the door--he would probably be thrown out again, but it was worth a shot. Better than risking it alone out there on the streets, with who-knew-what skulking just beyond the veil of dark.
Deekin rapped his small, scaly knuckles on the inn's pockmarked, ligneous door once, when the door swung inward. A large green half-orc with a prominent scar on his cheek stood in the doorframe, looking down skeptically at the reptilian before him.
"You gots place for Deekin to stays, maybe?" Deekin blurted nervously to the towering figure. "They chases Deekin out of every other place." The half-orc quirked an overshot brow.
"A kobold wanting to stay at my inn?" he murmured to himself. "These are strange times..." Then, to Deekin, he said apologetically, "I can't have kobolds staying at my inn. Bad for business, y'see?"
"Oh." Deekin's heart sank. "Deekin sees...Deekin goes now..." He started to turn away.
"Wait!" the half-orc interjected. "You can't stay in the inn, 'cause you'd scare my customers away. But listen, little fella...I know what it's like to have everyone against you. You can stay in the stable out back. How's that sound?"
"You lets Deekin stay in your stable?" Deekin cried, astonished.
"I keep it pretty clean, else people wouldn't keep their horses there," the half-orc responded. "You should be comfortable."
"Thank-you thank-you thank-you!" Deekin beamed. "You be so nice, half-orc man! Deekin writes abouts you in new epic tale, you sees!" Thrilled to have a a place to stay, Deekin darted around the back of the building to said stable.
"Epic tale?" the half-orc muttered, scratching his head as he closed the door behind him. "Don't suppose that was..." The half-orc glanced at the copy of "Shadows of Undrentide" he'd been reading prior to opening the door. "Naaahh..."
Around the building's back was a small stable. It was cheaply built, but a lot of hard work went into maintaining it. Deekin made a note of this in his notebook as he wandered inside. The air was pungent with the aroma of horse manure, but in a city as large as this one, bad smells were commonplace. Only two horses were stabled here, a lean brown stallion and a stout, dappled gray mare. Deekin petted the mare's felt snout gently; the mare snorted gently in his palm. The stallion whinnied and shied away from Deekin's hand, though.
Scanning the area, Deekin saw a small hayloft high up in the ceiling above the entrance. A skinny wooden ladder led up into it. Deekin gripped the ladder and began climbing up the rungs. Once at the top, he balanced on the highest rung and fell into the soft hay. Deekin smiled and nestled down in it, then peeked down at the horses and hoped they didn't mind him nesting in their food. Neither horse appeared to care, so he settled back down comfortably and opened his notebook to write about the day's events. He decided no one would probably care to read an epic tale about a kobold being chased by humans, and he didn't care to recount it, so he skipped that part. He then found it was really too dark to do much writing, and doodled pictures of the gray mare instead. When his eyelids began to feel heavy at last, he closed the book and tucked it his pack, which he removed from his back and set by his side. He hunkered down, and with a contented sigh closed his eyes.
Umbra waited for him in his dreams. It was always the same dream--Umbra, standing unmovingly against the sheer blackness of the Shadow Plane where he had left her. Deekin's heart ached, but he was voiceless and immobile, helpless to do anything to alert her of his presence.
But this dream was different. Umbra began to walk away. Instinctively, Deekin was compelled to follow, and somehow, he could. Umbra turned off down a corridor of shadow; Deekin ran after her, but when he entered the corridor, Umbra was nowhere to be seen. And yet, he could make out shapes in the darkness. He squinted to get a better view, and the shadows fell away, revealing that he was in what appeared to be an unfathomably immense cave. It was dark here, but the suffocating darkness of the Shadow Plane had gone, and he could now see what the obscure shapes were.
The first was a floating sphere. As it came into focus, it turned red, and one large eye opened on its surface. Beneath the eye opened a mouth rimmed with rows and rows of sharp teeth; the head was crowned by short, wriggling stalks, and atop each stalk was an eye. Simple but hideous, the malformed creature seemed to grin as its central eye pulsed with an ethereal light.
Against his will, his attention shifted to a tall, humanoid figure shrouded in black robes. Its back was turned to him. Deekin found himself creeping forward, though he didn't want to. The shrouded figure spun around in response to the movement, revealing a disgustingly swollen purple head with two milky white eyes, and a sucking mouth encircled by four long tentacles. Deekin stumbled backward in horror; the creature vanished into the shadows, and another took its place.
This creature appeared to be a woman with gray skin and flowing white hair. Her ears were long and sharp, her eyes red and piercing. A tiara of jagged black metal crowned her head, and she wore an outfit of the same black metal, which twisted around her body like snakes. In her hand she held a whip, and on her face she wore a smile as chilling as the creatures which had preceded her. She was not alone; behind her stood an impossibly large man--at least fifteen feet tall--whose skin was red as freshly spilt blood, his eyes coal-black as the hair tumbling across his shoulders and the immense horns protruding from his forehead. His crimson flesh rippled with muscles, and he wore no clothes--but didn't need to, for his lower half was that of a very sturdy goat. His long, arrow-tipped tail twitched angrily, and he looked as though he'd love nothing more than to rip the small woman before him into so many bloody shreds, but threads of magic twined across his body and held him in check.
The giant, horned man then noticed Deekin. His lip curled up in a sneer as he caught sight of the reptilian, and he spoke:
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, kobold."
Upon speaking those words, he and the woman disappeared, reclaimed by the darkness. Alone amid all the blackness, Deekin suddenly felt cold...very, very cold...
Deekin awoke with a shock, shivering until he realized the extreme cold had only been a part of his dream. Moonlight streamed out of a small, rounded window at the back of the loft, silvering the golden hay Deekin lie in. He sat up and put a hand to his head, thinking the dream over. It was an odd dream, to be sure, but he recognized the creatures in it. The round, floating creature--that was a beholder. The tentacle-faced thing was a mind flayer, also called an illithid. The gray-skinned woman with long ears was a drow, and her gigantic prisoner with the horns and red skin was obviously a devil. With the attacks from the Underdark occurring in the city, it was no wonder he had dreamt of the first three...but why a devil? What would have made him dream about a devil, and one held captive by a drow at that?
Deekin's stomach growled hungrily, breaking his train of thought. Deekin twisted around and looked out the loft's circular window. The moon still hung lonely in the sky, but the blackness of night was being pushed back by the pale blue of morning light. The city's buildings hid the ground-bound sun from sight now, but before long it would reign bright over the land. Deekin's stomach rumbled again; the kobold sighed relentingly and began climbing down the ladder. He wasn't going to be able to fall asleep again, anyway, he frowned, stroking the dappled mare's neck before leaving. The stallion snorted disdainfully as he left.
Deekin raised his head up as he left the stable and gazed at the light end of the sky. Hunger pangs broke this moment of beautific examining, prompting him to keep walking. As he walked, he examined the city around him. This area had suffered very few drow attacks, and it showed. The ground was paved with smooth cobblestones, the buildings tall and built of grainy bricks, with fountains and ponds, real and manmade, everywhere one turned. There were paupers in ragged clothes moping past, gaping enviously at those richer than them; people garbed in finery rode in comfortable carriages drawn by sleek horses; people neither rich nor poor gabbered with their neighbors as they strode along on foot. A stout dwarven man with a braided beard cast a suspicious eye at those around him as he swaggered along; a strong half-orc man grinned proudly as he yanked a grand gryphon along by golden reins attached to a leather bridle; a half-elven woman smiled and waved cheerfully at those she passed; a gnomic person hidden beneath layers of clothing scuttled by, burdened by a bulging backpack. All sorts of people and buildings stretching in every direction for miles and miles--it was truly amazing, thought Deekin. Wouldn't it be wonderful if his own race could co-exist with the others in such a city?
A male human stepped in Deekin's path, a jeering look on his face. Deekin tensed up and tried to walked past him, but the young man obstructed his path again.
"Wot's a kobold doin' in Waterdeep, eh?" he questioned.
"Deekin responding to call for heroes," Deekin answered honestly. The man laughed sharply at this.
"Ye think yer a hero?" the young man mocked.
"No, Deekin be epic bard," Deekin explained calmly. "Deekin going to write story abouts great heroes who fights--" A punch from the man cut him off, though Deekin swiftly ducked the blow.
"Why you does tha--" Deekin started, then evaded another punch. The man wanted a fight, and something in Deekin urged him to give him one. You explored a Netherese ruin and survived, a voice reminded him. You outwitted a power-crazed medusa, and you've only grown more powerful since then. You can certainly defeat this man. And it was true; Deekin could, and he knew it. But he also knew that Waterdeep's citizens hated him the way it was, and attacking anyone--even in self-defense--would only make things worse. So he cotinued to avoid the punches, until the man gave up and stormed off. Deekin sighed and continued on his way as well, headed straight for the Yawning Portal; he didn't feel like eating now.
As Deekin wandered, evidence of drow attacks became more apparents. There were sooty patches and immense potholes in the ground, leftovers from powerful fire spells. Some homes were missing large chunks and looked ready to collapse on themselves, and others still had been entirely reduced to ash and rubble. The people in this part of the city walked with caution, jumping at the smallest disturbance, their eyes darting fearfully. Many bore nasty wounds, and some had lost body parts. The destruction only got worse as Deekin continued; the kobold leapt back when he saw a fresh drow corpse frowning at him from the pavement. He realized quickly that it was dead, but went around it and stepped carefully then on.
The Yawning Portal was hard to miss, in part because it was one of the few buildings in this area that wasn't in shambles. The large, elaborate metal sign that read "Yawning Portal" with "Heroes Welcome!" added in beneath it was a dead giveaway, as well. The newly risen sun shone brightly on its gray-shingled roof; Deekin hoped for the best and started to push the door open.
A large hand grabbed the door from the inside and yanked it open, forcing the knob out of Deekin's hand. The kobold near-stumbled, regained his balance, and looked up to see the doorway blockd by a massive half-orc with red-blonde hair and a beard and mustache to match, and peach skin. These were unusual colors to see in a half-orc, who were usually dark-haired and green-skinned; his most striking feauture, however, was his lack thereof--below his left elbow, he had no arm. Deekin realized he was gawking and turned his attention to the half-orc's face. The huge, one-handed half-orc stared at Deekin with a grimace.
"You no allowed in," the half-orc informed. "Heroes only."
"But Deekin be hero," Deekin insisted. "Deekin helps save world from evil, undead snake-lady's wrath!"
"You is a kobold," the half-orc stated, as though that proved his point.
"But Deekin is kobold who helps saves world," Deekin reminded him. Seeing that the half-orc wasn't going to budge, Deekin sighed, brought out his notebook and said, "Deekin writes epic tale abouts it, and he here to writes epic tale abouts Waterdeep and Undermountain and drow attacks. If you not lets Deekin in, you at least tells Deekin how you loses arm, maybe?" The half-orc frowned.
"Me no like to say. It bad story," he responded.
"You loses it in Undermountain?" Deekin wondered; the half-orc nodded.
"Me lost all me friends when me lose me arm," the half-orc told him morosely. "We was most liked group for go into Undermountain." He paused mournfully for a moment, remembering his lost friends. "We go real deep and make lots of gold, which me spend real fast. Then one day we meet girl."
"What girl be that?" Deekin prompted, writing this down.
"She pretty lady, tell us she help us find treasure if we fetch her cape. We think that good deal." The look on his face evidence that it wasn't. "So we go where she tell us, but it be trap. She is vampire and she work with slaads in dungeon. Them jump us and kill mage quick. Her get our cleric from behind and tear him throat out."
"Go on," Deekin encouraged sympathetically.
"I killed many slaads, but see me friends all die one by one." The half-orc looked close to tears. ""When sweet Orah, me thief, get caught by vampire and her back get broke, me go berserk. Me not remember what happen, but slaads and vampire be gone and me arm and shield too. Me find me way out and here me be."
"Why you opens door?" Deekin asked.
"Durnan feel sorry for Grayban," replied the half-orc, who was apparently named Grayban. "Him hire me as guard. He is good boss."
"It nice when there be good bosses in the world," Deekin nodded.
"Me better keep working," Grayban remembered. "You want to go in door?"
"Yup, please," Deekin affirmed.
"You be good listener," Grayban told him, stepping aside so Deekin could go in. "Maybe we be friends."
"Deekin would likes that," Deekin grinned, entering the inn. The main room was surprisingly large; the occupants were surprisingly few.
"Deekin thinks there be lot more heroes than this," Deekin frowned.
"Drow finds where they is and kills most in their sleep," Grayban shrugged. Deekin shivered, and was suddenly glad he'd slept in a hayloft last night.
"Durnan is man in center of room," Grayban pointed out. "One with beard. He owns place, so you should talk to him."
"Thanks," said Deekin gratefully, and made his way to the center of the room. Durnan was a human man with thinning hair and bushy brown beard, peppered with gray hairs. His eyes were creased with worry as he counted and recounted the dozen or so heroes that had made it.
"Durnan?" Deekin piped up. Durnan noticed him and bristled immediately. Deekin sighed and introduced himself, mentioning his involvement with Undrentide and his hopes of writing another tale.
"Oh," Durnan said, relaxing. "I read that book. So you're Umbra Lumina's sidekick? Did she come with you?" Durnan's eyes searched the room again hopefully.
"No, Boss still be in Shadow Plane," Deekin frowned. "Deekin comes alone."
"Oh...well, I guess you're better than nothing," Durnan sighed. Deekin sighed as well at this comment; well, it was better than being chased by an angry mob.
"When we goes into Undermountain to kills drow?" Deekin asked.
"As soon as His Royal Highness gets downstairs," Durnan growled, glaring at the door leading upstairs.
"'His Royal Highness'?" Deekin repeated, writing this down.
"Yes, Nars Sater," Durnan grumbled. "He's a young hero, already making a name for himself. He's slain hundreds of horrendous creatures, defeated a powerful, evil sorcerer...he even helped drive the fearsome tarresque back into hiding."
"Really?" Impressed, Deekin racked his brain, finally admitting, "Deekin never hears of him."
"Unfortunately, most of us have." Durnan grimaced. "When he offered to help fight the drow, it seemed too good to be true. It is. The bum's still in bed and refuses to wake up, and the others can't start off without him."
"Oh. There be anything Deekin can do?" Deekin asked helpfully.
"Yes. Go wait in that corner over there," Durnan instructed, pointing at a far corner of the room. Obediently, Deekin scurried into it and opened his notebook. He started jotting down notes about his conversations Grayban and Durnan, then began making observations of his surroundings. To his pleasant surprise, he recognized some of the people here as heroes of Neverwinter, who had persevered through a raging plague and defeated the vast armies of Luskan and the traitor Aribeth, finally saving the grand city of Neverwinter. What an honor it was to be in the same room as them!
Nars continued to take his time. A small kitchen adjoined the main room, wafting sweet smells. Hungry as he was, Deekin couldn't resist the temptation to go in. The cook, a man with a greasy apron and a long, thin mustache, growled at his kitchen helpers--two halfling women--and moved quickly from one dish to another. He sampled a dish and then spat on the floor.
"This is horrible!" he shouted. "There is far too much garlic in here. What are we trying to do, keep away vampires?" Noticing Deekin, he waved a wooden spoon warningly in his face. "If you are the one who is filching biscuits, you had better stop!"
"Uhh..." Deekin started, but the cook had already moved on, as was swatting at a fly as he moaned about his working conditions. One of the halfling assistants flashed Deekin a quick grin.
"When the biscuits are finished we will help you snitch one, if you want," she offered. The other halfling swatted her companion and complained, "She does not appreciate the cook's genius!" She smiled at said cook. "He is an artist with food. I have learned so much from him."
"Is that all you've learned from him, Frinli?" the other grinned impishly.
"Shut up, Merin," Frinli glowered, taking the biscuits out of the oven. Once Frinli's gaze was averted, Merin snatched a couple biscuits from the tray and pressed them into Deekin's hands with a wink.
"She's such a pain," Merin whispered, rolling her eyes at Frinli. "You can have the biscuits. We can always make more."
"Thank-you," Deekin smiled, scurrying into the main room with his food. The biscuits tasted even better than they smelled, and sated his appetite nicely. After that, he continued to write of what he saw. After spending so long in the same setting, however, even the great heroes grew tedious. Tiring of writing, Deekin let his imagination wander and doodled instead. The sound of a door slamming shut made him suddenly alert. Blinking, Deekin looked down at what he'd been doodling.
It was a picture of Umbra.
Deekin swallowed, blinked back tears and looked up. Thankfully, the door had been slammed by Nars Sater himself. He wore an old, worm-eaten set of leather armor--hardly befitting of the great hero he was said to be. Nars himself was a young human man with a shock of blond hair, beady blue eyes and a face accustomed to scowling. Indeed, he wore a foul expression as he strode toward Durnan, who was in bad sorts himself at Nars's tardiness, but at least attempted to be pleasant.
"Greetings, Nars," Durnan welcomed cordially. "I am glad that you made it at last. I trust your accommodations were adequate?""
"The bed was hard as a rock, and I don't remember requesting the drow," Nars answered dryly. Durnan's smile was a grim one, belying a deep anger held barely in check--Deekin wasn't sure whether he was angry with Nars, the drow, or both.
"You are kind to joke about it so, Nars, but I must apologize nevertheless," Durnan frowned. "Once I would have been able to ensure the safety of my guests, but no longer. The damnable drow come and go as they please, it seems. These are dark times for--"
"The drow will pay for this!" Nars cut in, fuming. "I want my stuff back!" Deekin wrote this down, gathering that Nars's equipment had been stolen by drow. Deekin was naive, but being a kobold, inherently clever. He wasn't the only one to make such a guess; one of the Neverwinter heroes, an ornery, red-haired halfling rogue named Tomi Undergallows, guffawed.
"Hold on a sec, there," Tomi grinned broadly. "A drow thief came in and stole all your equipment? Ha-ha-ha! If I'd a known ye were such an easy mark I mighta nicked your stuff meself! Ha-ha-ha!" Durnan silenced Tomi's laughter with a cold glare.
"This is no joking matter," he reprimanded. "The drow don't play games; they likely figured you'd be more vulnerable without your equipment. A drow assassin would probably have shown up a few seconds later to finish you off in your sleep." Durnan spoke louder and looked around the room, addressing all of its occupants.
"Waterdeep is under attack, its people live in fear," he reminded them. "That's why I made the call you all responded to...we're going to do something about it."
"Why you?" Nars snorted derisively. "Why don't the Lords of Waterdeep deal with this?"
"The Lords of Waterdeep have their hands full protecting the city," Durnan explained calmly, though glaring daggers at the impertinent young man before him. "I have experience with Undermountain, so I have been placed in charge of organizing this venture." Of course, Deekin made a note of this.
"Tomi's willin' to help," Tomi smirked. "Just so long as that 100,000 gold piece reward stays on the table."
""Not all of us are here because of the gold, Durnan," said Linu--one of the Neverwinter heroes, an elven cleric with a heart as big as her feet were clumsy--shooting a dirty look at a nonchalant Tomi. "Some of us truly want to help. Please, tell us what must be done."
"The city is under siege," Durnan told them. "Raiding parties of drow and other creatures rarely seen on the surface are attacking the city. We've determined that these attacks are coming through Undermountain. The labyrinth of Undermountain was created long ago by Halaster, a mage whose power may have rivaled even Elminster himself. Halaster ruled Undermountain like a brutal tyrant. It was his magic that kept the creatures within from pouring out to overrun Waterdeep. Now Halaster has suddenly decided to unleash his creatures on this city, and we need to find out why. I want to know what that mad mage is up to!"
"Would Halaster still even be alive?" Nars asked skeptically.
"Undermountain was built hundreds of years ago, but Halaster is an archmage," Durnan returned. "Time doesn't mean the same to him as it does to us. I'm certain he's still alive...and that he's involved in these attacks." Wondering what brought about the change in Halaster's attitude, Deekin wrote this down as Durnan went on, "It's pretty clear that the answers we seek can't be found here on the surface. The only hope we have of stopping Halaster is to send someone down into Undermountain after him."
"So who's all going on this mission?" Nars prodded curiously.
"Anyone willing to risk the dangers of Undermountain is welcome. Waterdeep needs all the help it can get. Whether you all work together or alone is up to you, I suppose." Durnan jerked his head toward a lower alcove of the room, and a door set in it. "As many of you know, this inn is built around one of the entrances to Undermountain: a magical well that descends thousands of feet down into the very depths of that ever-changing labyrinth." Deekin didn't know this, and wasted no time in adding this detail to his story. The doodle of Umbra caught his attention as he did so; heart aching, he tore the page out and started to crumple it, found himself unable to and crammed the picture in his pack instead.
"Now, I don't intend to send anyone into Undermountain unprepared," Durnan continued. "That would be suicide. I'll offer you what advice and equipment I can. In fact, I think it might be a good idea if--"
"You shut the hell up! That's a great idea!" Nars grinned. "I'll buy some new equipment from the armory next door and then I'll be off. How's that sound, Gramps?" Glowering, Durnan started to say something, but the muffled sound of a something breaking and man yelling cut him off.
"Eh?" Durnan muttered wonderingly at the noise. "It's coming from the well room." Durnan listened intently for a moment, before his eyes went wide with the realization of what was about to happen...
(That is possibly the cheapest cliffhanger I have ever written. I am ashamed of myself. But, rather than wasting time perfecting the ending of Chapter One, I'm going to start work on Chapter Two. Isn't that better? Remember to review, please.)