The market in the center of Helix is filled with boisterous activity when the adventurers arrive, with numerous merchants offering wares to a sizeable crowd of curious buyers. There, Gwendolyn and Grugar indicate that they are parting ways with the company, neither willing to venture back into the ancient tombs a second time.

The group navigates through the town center, ultimately reaching the moss covered spire that is the home of their patron, Mazzahs. Tamson excuses himself, informing the company that he can be found at the mill when they are again ready to travel the Barrowmoor. Lampert, Searlait, Kraomar, and Ol Gib unload the cart, the three hirelings all regarding the wizard’s tower with a mixture of awe and suspicion. There, the company settles with its departing members, providing a share of the gold in the chest to each of them, an arrangement that both find amicable.

The door to the spire swings open as the adventurers approach. Their discovered treasures in tow, the party climbs the winding stairs to Mazzahs’ laboratory. There, the group finds the wizard hunched over his alchemical work table, sprinkling sky blue colored liquid from a vial onto a tangled clump of vines, an act which promptly turns the vegetation black. ”Most concerning,” he mutters as he turn to greet his guests.

”You have returned,” he says, his smile becoming a somber frown, ”But you are two less in number. Did some tragedy befall your companions?”

"No, we were lucky enough to not have anyone fall in the barrow. Gwen and Grugar decided that one foray into the those corridors full of undead was enough. They have left to find another path.

We have brought back many items from our expedition for your examination. Including some that we hope to use in our next trip down...assuming they prove beneficial."

Dax will help spread out the various items into piles, sorted by where they were found.

"If ya got pen and paper, I can give ya a map of what so far." The dwarf offers.

"Which I can make even more edifying with the addition of my notes and sketches," Barnabus contributes, wise enough to keep his inner eager beaver schoolboy in abeyance for this meeting.

Barnabus places his enchanted cudgel amongst the items Dax has lain out, where it is to rest temporarily, the circumstances of its acquisition briefly touched upon.

"We have formed some initial ideas as to the potion," he says, deferentially.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:44, Thu 28 Apr 2022.

"And the wand," Malivoire added after Barbabus' comment on the potion.  "I believe the elven glyph etched upon it confirms its use."

His eyes drifted to the experiment Mazzahs had been conducting, trying to divine the purpose of the liquid and perhaps its nature, given the colouring and the [plant's reaction.

The hirelings and squire indicate that they will await the company’s instructions just outside the tower. Searlait and Kraomar move to descend the stairs, but Lampert lingers behind for a moment, his curiosity aroused by the seemingly vacant iron cage in the room. The linkboy approaches it with a frown, then jumps in startled surprise as the invisible creature within rattles the bars and snarls at him. Blinking, the young man hurries to follow the Ol Gib and the mercenaries.

Gazing at the alchemy worktable, Malivoire can see that the plants that the wizard is studying are from the marshland. Malivoire is certain that they were harvested from the Barrowmoor. The liquid that Mazzahs was treating the vines with, in the elven mage’s estimation, was likely some kind of healing or purifying elixir, but rather than bettering the vegetation’s health, applying the solution somehow destroyed it.

Mazzahs peers at the sword and shield first, placing his hand on each briefly. ”Some of my research into the history of this area has revealed to me that, at one time, there was an organization of warriors who called themselves the Order of Nightfall. They were much like some of the knightly orders of today.” He gives Sir Dryvyk an acknowledging nod. ”It seems they sought to protect those that lived here from individuals of fell purpose. What writings I have found suggest that a rather robust death cult once made its home in this vicinity.”

“These weapons appear to have once belonged to members of the Order of Nightfall. Both bear enchantments to render them more effective in battle”

Both the long sword and shield are +1 items.

Tapping the gloves, he says, ”The magic worked into these gloves was intended to help a spy, or perhaps a scout, in their efforts to gain information regarding enemies. The enchantment will enable the wearer to be more dexterous.”

The gloves are gloves of dexterity.

Studying the cudgel for a long moment, Mazzahs says, ”This belonged to a druid. One of considerable power and influence in the natural realm. This weapon was carved from an ancient oak and blessed by the Green Man to aid the protectors of the wilderness against those that meant it harm.”

Although the information was already known, the cudgel is a +1 weapon.

Mazzahs examines the wand for a moment, tracing the symbol of an arrow with his index finger. Looking up at Malivoire, he asks, ”Tell me, what manner of wand do you believe this to be?”

His revolve faltering and then dissolving entirely, Barnabus sputters, "Yes, yes, yes," after the wizard had finished identifying their haul, as if he wished for nothing more than to clear the table and set it anew.

"But look at these," he enthuses, the word 'treasures' understood but unuttered, arraying the four urns before the researcher. He reaches into the one with traces of bright red and draws forth a stained tooth and holds it high up for him to see.

Next, he unfurls the banners and showcases the polished skulls.

"We found these in a room just down the way from the chest that had the sword and such," he explains.

"What was the sigil for the Order of Nightfall?" I wonder, not addressing anybody in particular with his question. It could have very well been the invisible being within the cage.

Finally, he presents the four gloves, each with its own complement of embroidered fangs. In a rushed manner (and regrettably acting out all four parts), he tries to recreate the ritual in which the gloves had played a part.

In the end, he's panting somewhat but not the least bit embarrassed.

Malivoire watched Mazzahs examine the recovered items with wide eyes, marveling at the mage's knowledge and intuition in determining the history and properties of each piece.  He simply expected the same thing when it came to the wand and was caught off guard when Mazzahs asked him about it.  Nervous energy welled up inside him - was this a test?

"Well, do you see the elven glyph etched on one side of the wand?" he started, pointing at the marking before flushing a little.  Of course Mazzahs would have seen it.  They all saw it!  "Ah, anyway, that glyph is commonly used by my people to indicate an ensorcelled arrow or projectile.  I believe that by saying aloud the name of the glyph and pointing the wand in the correct direction, it will mimic the casting of a Magic Missile spell."

The elven mage looked up at Mazzahs, eagerly hoping he was correct.

Mazzahs smiles and nods at the elven mage. ”You should trust your own judgement, Master Malivoire. You are absolutely correct. I suspect that it will serve you well when you return to the tombs.”

The wizard falls quiet as the other discoveries are set out for his inspection, his expression grim. After a silence of a few moments, he says, ”The sigil for the Order of Nightfall was an evenly armed cross, set over a many pointed star. The pommel of the sword bears the symbol and it is etched on the interior of the shield.”

He points to the banners and skulls. ”You say you found all of these items in the same chamber. These banners appear relatively new. It is possible that they were magicked to preserve their appearance. But tell me, this symbol that they bear, did you see it anywhere else during your explorations?”

Barnabus promptly answers, "The insignia of the skull also appeared in a chamber close by -- except that it was rendered in rust red pigment, blood, that is, and had been a recent addition. I suspected a connection to Negral."

"It is there no longer," he adds, casting an accusatory look at a certain paladin.

"Or possible that they are relatively new? And those that put the banners there are likely wandering about the barrows as well?" Dax asks.

Mazzahs gives a wan smile. ”I fear I had hoped that was the explanation, Master Moonblade,” the wizard says, ”But Master Barnabus’ mention of the additional symbol recently rendered in blood removes any doubt.”

“Your suspicions are well founded,” the wizard tells the priest, ”This is the symbol of Nergal. An ancient god of death and the underworld. It is he that was worshipped here centuries ago, based on all that I have been able to learn. But most believe Nergal to have been deposed, cast down from his throne and destroyed by his sons, Orcus and Set, both of whom coveted their father’s throne. They are said to vie for mastery of the realm of the dead to this very day.”

“Which begs the question: why would any still seek to honor a dead god?”

Happy to play the pupil in this exchange, Barnabus produces answers already known to the archwizard:

"Because cultists have been hoodwinked into following a false vatic."

"Because there have been signs and portents that the god is not dead."

"Because the god is not dead."

For extra credit, he discounts the first possibility out of hand, asserting that no "ordinary necromancy" could account for the splendidly bejeweled skeletons.

Noticing a few looks, he hastens to append "fiends" to his last assertion.

Sir Dryvyk quietly considered the emblems of the Order of Nightfall. He wondered if this, perhaps, was some unknown piece to puzzle of his familial interests in the Barrows. He'd ofttimes been frustrated when coming to dead-ends, at least now he had a few clues for research...

Their patron was discussing the excursion with the others, and though it was interesting, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts...

until the topic of Gods of death and evil came to the fore...

Because the God is not dead...

"This is a troubling possibility, and one my own Order must become aware of. Evil must be confronted, this must be investigated and squashed before traction is gained, like a cyst which must be cut out."

”It is a question that I hope you are able to find answers to,” Mazzahs replies, ”It assuredly places a greater weight on your explorations of the maze.”

Moving to his writing desk, Mazzahs lays out a large, unused piece of parchment, along with a quill and bottle of ink. ”You may sit here while you work, Master Ishmael,” the wizard says, gesturing to the empty chair.

Stepping over to a nearby chest, the wizard continues, “There are other possibilities, of course. Perhaps there are those who have sworn fealty to Nergal, even in death, who strive to keep the god’s secrets safe from the clutches of Orcus and Set’s faithful.”

“Or perhaps they work towards a way to see the dead god returned to life.”

Mazzahs opens the chest. Muttering a few words and gesturing above it, a leather bag springs into his hand, weighted with what fills it. Struggling, moves the sack to the alchemical table, setting it down heavily. ”One thousand gold for the twin banners. Five hundred each for the urns. Five hundred more for the collected skulls. And three hundred for Master Ishmael’s map. Is this a acceptable?”

There is no question of it being acceptable. It isn't like other buyers are lining up for these oddities.

Barnabus amends one of his previous answers, "Because there have been signs that portend that the god need not be dead," still eager, as he is, to earn as much credit as possible.

He wasn't interested in the magical cultist gloves?
Ready to shop at the market.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Sat 07 May 2022.

"It certainly does. I shall dedicate my devotions seeking further insight. Thank you Master Mazzah for trusting us with this information."

He nodded that he was also ready to depart.

Generations spent underground, dwarves rarely lose their way.  Ishmael was no exception, as he sat down at the writing desk and lays out a map, and inks it in.

"Gold is good, though gems are easier to carry.  I'm not one to complain." the dwarf adds.

"We've seen their handiwork but not one of the devoted as yet," Malivoire noted, referring to those committed to Nergal.  "Perhaps when we return we will find one their members and be able to ask such questions of them directly.  Those devoted to a faith are often eager to speak of its virtues and goals with barely a prompt."

The elven mage otherwise remained attentive but quiet as the money was counted out and Ishamel transcribed their map of the tombs to date.

”Be cautious, all of you,” Mazzahs advises solemnly, ”I will set about trying to learn more from all that you have provided me. When you return once more, I hope to have something of substance to share with you.”

“My thanks to you for your courageous efforts.”