Death's Threads

And the four warriors found themselves facing an aberrant vision. Around them, hundreds of enormous, wrinkled, pulsating cocoons hung from the dark vaults of the crypt. A greenish glow ignited at the end of the tunnel. The cocoons began to crack, split, and open, and macabre figures started to become visible.

But hey, it's too soon, far too soon to tell you this part of a story as grim as it is shadowy. I am Goblock, the goblin bard. And today, yes, today, I will tell you of when four strangers found themselves united in an adventure much greater than themselves.

It was the year 1495 of the Valley Calendar when, in a small tavern, amidst smoke and draft beers, four figures sat in silence not far from each other in a crowded hall, while a bard plucked the strings of his black mahogany lute and a melancholic tone issued from his lips:

"They tell a tale, and who am I to doubt,

Of a grand city where the sands run out.

Once bright as gold, a sight to behold,

Now silence reigns, a story untold.The peace of the dead, the old ones declare,

A stillness broken by whispers in the air.

Nothing is heard but the echoes' long call,

A timeless void that encompasses all.Some speak of a rite from ages past,

Of broken walls and secrets held fast.

A black book is named, but I'll say no more,

For all else is lost to the ancient lore.

No man today can name this lost place,

The maps deny it, the sun shuns its space.

But when the high moon shines upon the land,

They swear they see its beauty, close at hand."

"I am Kagari, the bard, and that was the ballad of The City That Was. Thank you for listening, and I hope you enjoyed it."

A thunderous applause filled the hall. Everyone had enjoyed the bard's narration.

As he descended from the stage, a small halfling was intent on sipping her beer alone and in silence. She had a very masculine appearance, so much so that, before she arrived, several people had mistaken her for a small man. Her brow was furrowed, entertained by a thought even more than by the bard.

Ah yes, the bard. I haven't told you, but Kagari had barely stepped off the stage when he discovered he could love something other than myths and legends. His eyes fell, in fact, on a beautiful drow elf. Dark-skinned, with curly silver hair that fell to the base of her neck, with various jewels and adornments completing the look. Her eyes were red as the fire of hell but cold as the most freezing ice in existence. But poor man, he didn't even have time to look at her before a shiver ran down his spine. Those very crimson eyes were staring straight into his pupils. But just like the legends he loved so much, the scarier they were, the more interesting they became, and so the woman, somewhat shadowy and very mysterious, drew him in.

Distracted by love, the good bard did not realize, however, that to his right a boy with slightly reddish skin, upon whom a raven perched, was arguing animatedly with a fellow who was more than corpulent and quite tipsy.

"Your damned raven, hic, s-stole my p-potatoes and drank from my - pause - from my - second pause, with a suppressed burp - from my beer!" the drunkard yelled.

"But does it seem possible to you that a raven could drink beer?" the boy replied, laughing and mocking him.

"Listen, boy, I don't know who you are, but I know what I saw." It seemed that anger was making him soberer. "But if you want to keep acting like this, I can easily let you taste something myself." And he clenched his fist.

"Oh, and what if I showed you something else?" And the boy opened his hand, and a glittering coin appeared. The man, as if enchanted by a goddess, began to stare at it, and in the meantime, after a silent agreement with their eyes, the raven flew towards the mug and began to gulp down beer as fast as it could, and after finishing it, it even started to eat the few, and last, chips on the poor unfortunate's plate.With a quick gesture of his hands, the boy made the coin disappear and pulled it out of the drunkard's ear, who, incredibly, calmed down. But his calm lasted only a few seconds because, upon returning to his seat, he realized that there was no trace of his food.

It was then that the elf stood up, and in an instant, she was behind the man. She kicked the chair of a dwarf sitting behind him, who fell and landed right against the big man. The latter spun around abruptly, red as a pepper from head to toe, furious at what had happened. He picked up the chair from the ground and, as violently as he could, broke it over the small man's back. From that moment, chaos erupted. The dragonborn sitting near the dwarf quickly stood up and hit the big man with a hook, who fell against another table, overturning three goblets of beer in one go. Then the people sitting there incited against the dragonborn, who, frightened, hid behind a goliath, who took all the blows in his place. The goliath, enraged at the dragonborn, picked up the dwarf from the ground and threw him against him.

The entire hall was a frenzy, until a flying mug of beer hit the tavern owner squarely in the chest, as she was busy wiping a clean one. The limit had been reached. She let out a scream, a very loud scream that forced everyone to stop what they were doing to look at her:

"SILENCE!" And silence it was.

"I think it's time to close up for the night! Please be kind enough to clean up all this mess before heading for the exit."

Her gaze inspired fear. Long black hair, streaked with white and gray strands, fell down her back. On her pale face, etched by time and scars from mysterious adventures, one could read a reckless confidence, difficult to match.

Elvira, that was her name, came out from behind the counter and headed towards the tables. The customers watched her every step with worry and suspense, all terrified at the idea that she might come in front of them. A collective sigh of relief was heard, however, when her walk ended in front of the drow elf. Two proud and confident gazes stared straight into each other's pupils.

"I saw what you did," Elvira said. "Nothing escapes me, you should know that."Her black eyes were focused on the elf's red ones."I've never seen you around here; you must be an adventurer. Tell me, does this provocateur have a name?"

The girl looked at her somewhat sullenly. "Nytharia, Nytharia Noctelunae. I will say nothing else." And she turned, intending to leave the place. The eyes of all the customers were focused on her.

It was just as Nytharia was near the doorway, however, that the main door opened. A middle-aged couple, soaked from the rain of the storm, had rushed in with some fatigue, a sign that they had been running, into the tavern. The man, bearded and looking like a simple farmer, was panting but seemed calm. The woman, on the other hand, besides being breathless, had eyes and cheeks covered in tears and was in an evident state of agitation.

"Someone - pant - someone help us, please," the man said.The woman tried to say something, but what came out of her lips was only a faint sound choked by crying.

"Calm down, dear," he placed a hand on her face to reassure her, then turned to the still confused clientele. "I ask you a huge favor. Our daughter has disappeared, and the recent disappearances worry us. I know there's always some adventurer here. We are but humble farmers; if someone can help us, we would be truly grateful. I hope you can understand a parent's worry."

It was at that very moment that the halfling girl, who until then had remained silent and aloof, sipping her beer, stood up and headed towards the couple. Along with her, the mischievous boy with the raven also moved towards them, while people made way among the overturned tables to let them pass.

"I am available for your request; I can perfectly understand the fear of losing a loved one," the girl said with a slightly melancholic tone."I can help you too," the tiefling was quite excited. "Besides, it's better to look for a little girl than to clean up this mess here," he said almost to himself but loud enough for the people closest to him to hear."Thank you very much, from both of us." And applause followed from the entire hall.

"Dear, you go home; I'll take care of things with them now. As for you, I'll explain everything on the way; I'll take you where Heidi, our daughter, usually plays."

So the four went out, and at that moment Nytharia saw something glittering in the pocket of the woman's robe. It wasn't a coin, but it was certainly something of some value. She thus decided to follow her home, where perhaps she could gain something from that poor village and not make her stop in Velthorn entirely in vain.

"I promise you, Miriam, I will bring our daughter back," the man greeted his wife, giving her a quick kiss, and took the left path accompanied by the small Halfling and the eccentric Tiefling; the wife, instead, took the central one, where a little further on she would find her home and where, warm and dry, she would anxiously await the return of her daughter in her husband's arms.

Nytharia left shortly after, when everyone was far enough away not to notice her intentions and, with a stealthy step, followed the already almost erased footprints the woman had left on the muddy ground due to the incessant rain.Her plan was simple: follow her home, wait for her to go to bed or be distracted by something, perhaps a book, sneak into the dwelling without being heard, and take as much valuable stuff as possible. "They might be a family of farmers, but they must have something of value somewhere," she justified to herself as she walked.

Thinking these things, however, Nytharia realized too late that something was not right. Miriam had, in fact, taken a secondary path that connected to the woods, mainly used by lumberjacks and hunters to earn a living.At that moment, she was at a distance that allowed her to notice that the woman's movements were anything but fluid. "Is she still shaken about her daughter?"

Indeed, Miriam seemed to be walking with a much slower and more labored pace than usual, occasionally swaying a little to the right and a little to the left.They both passed through the wooden gate that marked the entrance to the forest. The vegetation was dense; the dark wood trees with deep green canopies blocked any passage of the faint starlight. The only source of illumination was the small oil lamp that the anxious mother carried with her.

Nytharia decided to climb the trees so she could better follow that faint orange light that allowed Miriam to venture into the darkness.Just as she climbed the tree with the best view, which took only a handful of minutes, Nytharia no longer had the woman in her sight. She advanced stealthily, silently jumping from branch to branch, from one tree to another, until she saw the little light again.

The lamp was on the ground, lying on its side as if it had fallen from the lady.

"Why did she put it down? With this darkness, I can't imagine how a human like her can see."

She moved a little closer, and only I know with what look of terror and disgust Nytharia followed the whole scene.Well, you should know that she is a skilled thief and assassin, among the most dangerous on the Sword Coast. Many are the men she has robbed, and even more are those whose light she has extinguished from their eyes.Yet, yet, at that moment, she was more than shaken; she felt a sense of nausea rising from her stomach and immediately understood that she had to leave.

The woman lay on the ground, helpless but alive, almost hypnotized into accepting her fate, while a putrefied being, with half its skull removed in who knows what way, was nibbling on the poor woman's leg, giving rise to a disgusting sound and scene. Not a moan, not a sign of pain, just acceptance of fate and nothing else in her gaze.Nytharia was about to leave when a dark green glow from inside the woods illuminated the entire forest.

She clearly saw the zombie, at least that's what it seemed to her, stand up, dropping the bloody leg to the ground, and stagger in the direction of the light's origin. If this hadn't been enough to alert the elf, Miriam took care of it by slowly getting up from the ground and limping, she too followed that light, which was as seductive to her as it was deadly.

She thus decided that this was the right moment to leave.And while we leave Nytharia to her return, we go back to when the halfling and the tiefling had just taken the left path towards the Velthorn cemetery."Thank you very much for deciding to help us," the farmer stated. "I haven't introduced myself yet; I am Clodius, but everyone here calls me Clo.""Oh, it's nothing, don't worry. I didn't want to stay another minute in the tavern with that woman," and thinking of the innkeeper gave him the shivers. "Anyway, I'm Zareth, and she," - pointing to the raven perched on his shoulder - "is Zerythra."

"I'm Mioky, and honestly, don't worry. I know how scary it is the loss of a beloved, so there's no need to thank us."

The three walked along the dark path, with the pouring rain beating under their feet and muddying all their boots, illuminated only by the oil lamp, similar to the lady's, held by Clodius.Velthorn was a very small village located near the Neverwinter forest, with many country houses and just a few places of interest. It was Clodius who, as they entered the village, acted as a tour guide for the two strangers.

"See? - pointing to a small gathering of stalls - that's our lovely little market. We always find everything, from herbs to work tools, to food and clothes. That's where my wife and I, helped by our little one, sell the vegetables and produce we grow."

"Interesting..." Zareth muttered under his breath to Zerythra, who was truly little interested in all of this. Although, immediately after, something piqued his curiosity: "What's that, instead?"

He pointed to a large villa clearly isolated from all the other houses. It was an imposing structure, wide and developed over three floors. All around it was a garden dominated by weeds and decidedly overgrown wild plants. The black and purplish bricks of the house, barely distinguishable due to the rain, gave it an unsettling and gloomy appearance. The fence and the iron gate were all rusty, and a large, heavy metal padlock kept it sealed.

But it was the symbol on the villa's pediment that captured the attention. There was, in fact, a golden raven in relief with spread wings upon which a crown rested. Inside it, despite the darkness, 13 diamonds of various colors shone, completely contrasting with the idea of Velthorn's poverty that the two travelers had formed.

"Ah, that? That's the Morgraven villa. They were a great family of scholars from Neverwinter who, having left their native city, decided to found this village to continue their studies in peace. You know? They say that house is haunted. Anyone who passes nearby can sometimes hear wails or evil sounds. It happened to me a couple of times; it's not the best feeling I've ever had. That's why no one has ever tried to enter it or tear it down, even though it has been uninhabited for centuries."

Mioky and Zareth were now decidedly intrigued by that enigmatic structure.

"Excuse me, did you say that no one has lived here for centuries? And who manages the village now?" the girl asked.

"Well, yes, Velthorn has been an independent village for a long time now. Of course, it's still under Neverwinter for taxes, tributes, and all the bureaucratic matters, but we mainly manage ourselves.

Regarding the Morgravens, I believe the last time they governed this little village was at least 600 years ago, if not more. It's difficult to estimate when they left the city, you know? There are so many legends about them, and since we have neither tombs nor historical artifacts here, we can't know exactly when they lived. It's more a matter of word of mouth, from legend to legend, that their life is handed down."

"Wait," Zareth interrupted him, "in what sense do they not have a tomb? That's definitely strange! It's customary to have a memorial or something similar for the rulers of a city, even for small villages like this, to show themselves and pass on their history."

"It's true; it has always seemed strange to everyone. Also because, in reality, there is one Morgraven buried here. In fact, in the cemetery, there is a tombstone in honor of the first king, Julius Morgraven I, but it's a simple stone block that blends in with all the others inside the cemetery. Anyway, we've practically arrived; the cemetery is just behind the temple of Kelemvor."

And indeed, having passed the majestic stone structure dedicated to the god of death, the three arrived at what was, in fact, the simplest and most ordinary cemetery they had ever seen.

A low wooden fence painted white, now grayed, surrounded thousands of tombstones and stones of every shape and size, but other than that, there was nothing to suggest a mausoleum for the king of Velthorn, as anticipated by Clodius.

"Here we are. This is where Heidi usually plays. She says she has many friends; a little unsettling, right?" Clodius laughed, a forced laugh, "But she's still a child."

The rain had slightly decreased during their walk, allowing them to see more easily around them. Despite this, there was no trace of the child; on the ground, due to the storm, no footprints or signs that Heidi had been there until shortly before could be seen.

Zerythra took flight and began to inspect the entire area. Her feathered wings, wet from the rain, were heavier than usual, making her flight more difficult and slow. It took her about five minutes to circle above the cemetery until she returned to Zareth's shoulder.

"Well?" he asked her. "Find anything?"

"I saw a little shoe, caw," a metallic, shrill voice came out of the raven's beak.

The answer stunned Mioky and Clodius. Who expected that raven could talk?

"Follow me, caw." And so she took flight again and led the company until they arrived at the most isolated central area.

"I recognize that one; that tombstone belongs to the first Morgraven. I know because it's the farthest and most isolated from the others," Clodius stated. And indeed, as he had anticipated, the tombstone was precisely that of Julius Morgraven I. Only the name was engraved on it, and it bore the same symbol as the villa, that of the raven with the crown, but this time only in relief and without the precious stones. In front of the stele, there was a small leather shoe with a cloth flower as decoration."I recognize it; it's Heidi's shoe!" Clodius exclaimed, and tears began to stream down his face. "Oh my god, what happened to you? Kelemvor, please, let nothing serious have happened, let nothing serious have happened! Sigh, sigh..."

While Mioky comforted the father, Zareth and Zerythra looked carefully around for clues. Finding the shoe there, especially with the rain, meant that the child was not very far, and that was the only clue they had. Zareth glanced at the tombstone, the fence, the muddy ground near the slab, until he noticed something. It was as if strips of earth were separated from each other. He picked up a stick and began to follow and widen the crack until he formed a large rectangle all around the tombstone.

"It looks like there's a passage here," he said. "But I don't understand how to move it."

In fact, even with three of them trying, they couldn't move the ground from any side. Mioky approached the memorial of Julius Morgraven I. Since it was a passage around his tombstone, the two things were probably connected. Fortunately, the rain seemed to have cleaned the entire stone block, making a downward-pointing arrow, lightly carved on the back of the tombstone, more visible.

"Look here! Do you think it could be a clue?"

"We'll just have to find out," Zareth immediately exclaimed, clearly excited.

Mystery had always fascinated him. Saying this, with all the strength he could muster, he pushed the slab downwards.

The earth began to tremble.

The earth began to creak.

The ground in front of them began to move.

Slowly, in front of them and the tombstone, a series of rough stone stairs received the first drops of rain of that evening.

On the highest step, already wet, lay the child's second shoe.