The request to journey deep beneath the Sand Sea Pyramids came from none other than Zewala Rha'Esandi, Zarius' own mother.

The tiefling woman was originally from the desert land of Zeinav and she always had a love of its dark arcane history. Leaving behind her life there for the darkened skies of the Ash Lands had been hard on her, but she made sure to keep in touch with her friends. It was through them that she heard of the recent earthquake which opened up a cavern near the Sand Sea Pyramids.

Some scouts uncovered that there is an ancient underground city, making this possibly the biggest archeological find in Zeinav in over a decade. The problem is that exploring the city is very dangerous due to the unstable earth around it and the possibility of losing this find to the sands once more is high. 

Zewala asked Zarius to take someone he trusts to go and lead an undercover exploration of the ruins in the hope of finding something of great occult value.

Zarius agreed and set off from Darkveil with a small team including Eirynor, the tall half-elf swordsman, Snow, the tabaxi ranger, and his friend Cyran, the moon elf bounty hunter along with their newly recruited human apprentice, Rhi'as.

Eirynor and Snow he knew the skills of well since they have worked with his family for years. Cyran however, he had yet to see in action as of yet. This would be a good test of the hunter's abilities and help Zarius determine how useful he was as an ally. Cyran's apprentice had already been of great help being a native to Zeinav and having knowledge of the lay of the land. 

The small team makes their way across the sands of the Zeinav desert under the cover of darkness, moving quickly to avoid any tomb raiders and bandits that are very likely to be not far off from this desirable discovery. They approach the Sand Sea Pyramids which pierce the starlight sky like sharp edged mountains.

Zarius looks around, his golden eyes gleaming in the dark as he leads the others.^[1] The others stay close, relying on the tiefling and moon elf to guide them through the dark towards the cavern. 

They slow as they approach the pitch black cavern entrance. There is a small camp stationed outside of it, though it looks recently ransacked. It was possible that the scouts who first found the cavern entrance fell victim to some opportunistic bandits. Zarius spots a couple of torches laying in the sand and picks them up as they proceed towards the cavern. Ducking out of the open and into the cover of the tunnel, Zarius pauses and hands a torch off to Snow and Eirynor before they light them. 

"Alright we have until two hours before sunrise to search the ruins for anything of interest. Remember, we are not here to raid the place, leave anything of archaeological significance alone. We are specifically looking for anything that has to do with ancient rituals and occult magic."

Snow and Eirynor nod, they weren't that interested in being tomb raiders or treasure hunters anyway. They were more here as support should anything drastic happen.

---

[1] Dark Vision

It had somewhat come as a surprise for Cyran when Zarius reached out to him for assistance on this mission. He considered the tiefling a friend and an ally, though they had friendly encounters in the past, they had yet to do any work together that had showcased Cyran’s abilities to Zarius, and vice versa. Cave crawling and exploration wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, but he hoped to be of use. Besides, this provided Cyran an opportunity to offer training to his new apprentice.

Before they met Zarius and his companions, Cyran made sure to go over a few ground rules with Rhi’as- the apprentice had to wear a mask over his face, and he would stick to the shadows, but this would be a good opportunity for him to learn some valuable skills. Zarius and his men were competent, so Cyran felt more comfortable letting the young thief tag along.

Besides, Rhi’as- who assumed the alias Oriole while wearing the mask- possessed knowledge of the land and was able to help them navigate the sands all the way to the recently-discovered city under the pyramids.

At Zarius’s reminder not to take anything, Cyran gently nudged Oriole in the side. “That means no swiping anything, understand?” He thought he saw Oriole roll his eyes under the mask, but he obeyed, tucking his hands in his belt loops and kept close to Cyran as the group descended through the rocky tunnel.

Now that they had begun their descent, Cyran’s demeanor had shifted somewhat. He was no longer walking with his usual relaxed, if not somewhat awkward, gait. He was more focused, as if ready to take out any enemies lying in wait with a cold and calculated efficiency.

In the shadow of the caves cast from the flickering torches, Cyran’s eyes were sensitive enough to catch the slightest movement of the creatures scuttling around in the shadows. He narrowed his eyes, scanning for any possible tomb raiders lying in wait.^[1] When he saw nothing, he turned to the others and nodded.

“The coast is clear.”

For now, at least.

He couldn’t say the same for deeper underground, and given the abandoned scout camp, there was a good chance they would find that the tomb raiders had already beaten them to the punch. Cyran kept his hands near his daggers, ready to strike should anything dart out from the shadows as they descended further through the sloping tunnels.

The air grew more stale the further they walked, choked with dust that hadn’t been disturbed in thousands of years. The group traveled slowly, careful not to disturb any earth, having been warned about the possibility of another earthquake that could just as easily reseal the entrance to this city, locking unsuspecting adventurers inside.

Thankfully, the ground remained stagnant as the tunnel began to widen, signifying they were getting closer to the city proper. That was when Cyran spotted the first writing carved in the walls, scribbled in an ancient language he couldn’t hope to understand. The writing was weathered with time, though Cyran was still able to pull out his notebook, flip to an empty page, and copy down the strange, choppy script to the best of his ability.

He paused when he reached the end of the carving.

“It looks like this character here has been cut off halfway… as if someone was interrupted before they could finish.” He turned to Zarius. When he spoke, his voice was neither skeptical nor accusing- simply with a detached level of curiosity. “Exactly what kind of occult artifacts are you expecting to find down here?”

---

1. Shadow Sight

He looks at the weathered writing carved in the wall.

“Good question. Eirynor?” The tiefling looks towards the tall half-elf who awkwardly glances about the group as he is put on the spot.

Eirynor was Zarius’ sister, Eameia’s, right hand first and foremost. The half-elf was faithful to their family and, by proxy to Eameia and Zewala, knew more about their magic than Zarius did despite not being much of a caster himself. He often spent long nights pouring over ancient texts in the estate archive with the two female tieflings and would assist with their arcane rituals when needed.

He hands his torch over to Snow as he rummages through his satchel before pulling out an old leather bound tome. He holds it out to Cyran to review as he signs to Zarius. The tiefling nods as he watches Eirynor’s gestures and then translates for the rest of the group.

“Eirynor says that there was a civilization of dragonkin that existed in the area before the pyramids themselves. According to that historical text, they were wiped out by the gods during The Collapse for exploring alternative faiths in the gods’ absence. If this city is one of theirs then there might be clues as to what they were worshiping at the time.”

The text itself is old, but not as old as to have existed during The Collapse. Its tattered pages and faded illustrations depict an ancient people of dragonkin who lived along the rivers of a desert land that resembles Zeinav, but perhaps more vibrant than the nation as it currently is. There were certainly more rivers depicted in the artwork than they had come to know in the arid land. Several rough drawings of curious looking metal contraptions are found near the middle of the tome in addition to symbols that appear similar to the ones Cyran has copied into his own notes.

“I will be honest and say that I am no expert in the fields of the occult or history. The client will be happy with anything we find though. There is also a chance that we will not find anything at all. It would be a shame but at least then we know not to waste any more time here.”

His mother had been pretty vague about details on what exactly they were supposed to be looking for, which was not unusual for her when it came to her hobbies. This wouldn’t be the first time she sent him on a wild goose chase after the promise of something of interest to her. He didn’t mind though. Whatever made her happy was worth putting the time and effort into. He’d pay Cyran and his apprentice regardless of if they found something or not anyway.

“We can cover more ground if we split up. Cyran and I can both see without light, so we will scout ahead, ensure the path forward is safe, and leave markers on places that need a more thorough search.” He looks at the tabaxi and half-elf. “One of you should stick with Oriole. Which will it be?”

Eirynor and Snow look at Oriole then at each other before back at Zarius. Eirynor raises a hand and signs something to Zarius. The tiefling watches closely then nods. “Fair point. Snow, you are with Oriole then.”

The tiefling looks at Cyran. “Is this acceptable to you? Snow is quite reliable and has a good sense of hearing and smell.”

Snow’s tail twitches a bit at the compliment.

Cyran flipped through the tome as Zarius translated Eirynor’s explanation. The crude drawings of metal artifacts caught his eye, but he couldn’t make out what they were supposed to be with no context. If the client Zarius spoke of was so inclined, they could likely take this book- and the text- to a historian or a translator and learn for themselves, but Cyran already had an inkling of what was written on that wall. They were staring at the laments of the damned.

He knew only a little about religion and magic himself, and while he did have more history with the occult, his own experience was with the crazed followers of Lunala, and would likely do little good for him here.

The information was vague, but Cyran had gone on less before. The mission, in essence, was simple- get in, search for artifacts, get out. It wouldn’t do them any good to stick around here. Zarius made a good point about splitting up, and while Cyran didn’t want to leave Oriole alone, it would be safer the two of them to move without being encumbered by the ones whose eyes weren’t sensitive enough to see in the dark.

He nodded at Oriole, who looked reluctant, the thief was not a combatant. His skills would be better served with Snow, where he could help get into any areas of interest. “It sounds like a good plan to me. I trust Snow to watch his back.” His previous interaction with the tabaxi had been brief, but he could tell the man was competent and dedicated at his job. Zarius kept a tight ship, and managed his men well.

With the plan decided on, the two set on ahead at a more natural pace now that they were free to move about at their own speed. Before long they reached the border of the city, marked by a dry sand bed that may have once been a river, and were greeted by their first glimpse of the underground civilization.

What was left standing looked well-preserved by time, but there was no question that this city had been heavily affected by the Collapse. Buildings were partially destroyed and some reduced to rubble entirely. The ones that were still intact could only be described as feats of architecture. Through the sprawling labyrinth Cyran could already spot a few places of interest from where they stood- a few towers and even a construction that looked like it may have once been a citadel.

The irony of such a building surviving the destruction of a civilization for hereticism was not lost on him.

“I think we should search the city while we make our way up there.” He gestured to the citadel, offering his suggestion. Of course, he would defer to Zarius’s judgment, as he was currently under the man’s employ, but he felt the need to offer his own thoughts as well.

With the plan for progressing through the city in place, the groups separate and the two leaders disappear from sight into the darkness while the rest follow behind. Once they reach the city proper, Eirynor splits off from Snow and Oriole and circles around the outer edges of the city while the other two travel down the main street.

“I agree.”

Zarius scouts ahead with Cyran through the ruined streets. When they come across an intact building that would be easier to search, the tiefling takes out a flask filled with a strongly scented liquid and uses it to make a mark by the door. When Cyran gives him a curious look, he flashes him a grin.

“Ashland Jackal musk. It is harmless and will leave no trace of our trespassing after the scent wears off.”

He tucks the flask away after capping it.

The ruins are definitely that. Ruined. Buildings were mere shells of their former glory. Any color or ornate engravings had long since been worn away by time. Sand is piled up in several places and made traversing the streets more like walking across the dunes. The air is stagnant and a thick layer of stale dust blankets every undisturbed surface.

That was the curious thing. It should be pretty easy to see if anyone was down here thanks to the sand and dust. Yet there wasn't a single footstep or handprint. Maybe whoever raided the camp outside hadn't actually entered the cavern. The only other explanation is that they had some way to move about without leaving any trace of their passage. 

They continue onward, taking care to disturb as little as possible themselves in case anyone had tried to follow them and corner them within the labyrinth of stone and sand. 

---

Behind the pair, Snow walks carefully with Oriole in awkward silence. That is until the tabaxi clears their throat a bit.

"So...how is working for Mister Cyran?" They ask quietly, ensuring not to raise their voice too much.

Snow had only met Cyran once before, but the hunter struck him as honorable and caring. It was a surprising to the tabaxi that someone like that was allies with his employer given the cruel nature of the syndicate's work. Then again, Snow knew well that the face some people wore was not reflective of who they actually were most of the time. So many people of the Ash Lands wear many masks. It took them a long time to agree to work under the tiefling for that exact reason. Cyran could possibly be just another two-faced liar leveraging off of others' weaknesses. 

Oddly enough, the tabaxi was not bothered by that possibility. While they knew Zarius' true nature quite well, they still deeply respected the man and put a high value on their relationship. Few had ever extended such opportunities and courtesies to the tabaxi without hesitation as the tiefling and his family had. And Snow did trust them to an extent. Snow at least trusted them to trust the tabaxi to do their job. Though they would have preferred to have been left out of a trip to Zeinav and its scorching sands. Heat and the catfolk did not get along and the coolness of night only lasted so long. 

It was unfortunate to say there wasn’t much in the city of interest, in the beginning. Cyran and Zarius crept through the crumbled remains of the town. Cyran’s boots kicked up dust with every step,

As Zarius explained what the Ashland Jackal Musk was for, Cyran nodded in understanding. He wondered if Zarius was scent-tagging areas for Snow and Oriole to investigate later. It was an efficient system, and one that would hopefully obfuscate their search from any other thieves that may lie in wait. That was looking less and less possible, though, considering they had yet to find any disturbance in the waste that indicated someone had already been there.

What kind of tomb raiders left no trace behind as they walked? Perhaps flying ones… Cyran mused to himself, more out of humor than any real sense of speculation. He was about to voice these thoughts out loud, more to break the silence with idle chatter than anything, when a flash of color in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Cyran paused, surprised to see a building that was still partially standing on a nearby street. It was one of the first few constructions they’d seen that wasn’t completely obliterated thus far, with a large, colorful tile mosaic that spanned across the outer wall. Cyran gently nudged his companion to get his attention, gesturing towards the surviving piece. He crept across the street and around broken piles of ash and rock to get a closer look.

The scene depicted what may have once been the city itself, but it was a far cry from what it looked like now. Red and gold figures scurried along the streets, and that strange technology Cyran recognized from the records he’d been shown drifted through the air. What stuck out the most, however, was the great dragon in the sky, with its wings spread in the air, so large that it blotted out the sun.

Was the dragon meant to be their object of worship? Or something else? It was not much to go on, but every bit of information helped in a place like this, especially one made by the dragonkin themselves, as innocuous as it was. Cyran scribbled something down quickly in his journal before turning to Zarius.

It could mean nothing, but they didn’t have much to go off of. “I suppose this means we should keep an eye out for dragon-themed artifacts.”

---

The atmosphere between the duo trailing behind Cyran and Zarius was so awkward that Oriole had to stifle his surprise when the tabaxi- Snow- spoke up. He wasn’t sure if he should answer, considering Cyran told him to keep his head down, but he figured there was no harm in speaking when he had been spoken to.

“He is… interesting.” Certainly not how Oriole expected a master assassin to act. And while Cyran had his cold moments, he was kinder than he looked, and he was a fair teacher. Especially considering their first meeting had been when Oriole attempted to rob him blind. “He’s not what one might expect from someone of his profession, but that’s a good thing. I think.”

He cleared his throat, embarrassed at speaking so much. Oriole was often quiet, even in the company of those he was familiar with.

His thoughts drifted to Snow’s own employer. Cyran seemed friendly with the tiefling, but he hadn’t really explained to Oriole how the two knew each other. The tiefling had an intensity about him, one that Oriole wasn’t sure what to make of. But Snow and Eirynor seemed to respect him, and you could tell a lot about a man by those that followed him. Fiddling with the hem of his cloak, Oriole found the courage to speak.

“And what of… Master Zarius? Do you enjoy working for him?”

Zarius feels Cyran nudge him and follows him into the intact building. He looks at the mosaic depicting the massive dragon blotting out the sun. It was a terrifyingly massive creature if the scale indicated was at all accurate. He glances at Cyran as he snaps he scribbles in his journal.

“Perhaps.” He nods before taking a look around the room for anything else of interest.

A flicker of movement along the wall catches the tiefling’s eye. He carefully goes over and notices a small hole, perhaps the diameter of a solar. Suspecting it may be an arrow trap, he stands to the side and makes sure Cyran is clear before he waves his hand in front of it. Nothing happens. He slides his foot under neath and tests for a pressure plate. Still nothing. Perhaps it wasn’t a trap, but an access point for a secret trigger to open a hidden door.

As he inspects it closer, a puff of some strange powder blows in his face. Zarius coughs and pulls back as the substance stings his eyes and nose. Suddenly he loses all sense of balance and the vertigo takes him to his knees.

The sound of stone shifting below their feet draws Cyran’s attention just as a gaping hole opens up below them. Zarius reaches for a ledge but is slow to react and tumbles down a sloped chute that then deposits him in a sand bottom pit. He lands on his back with a dull thud and a grunt. The impact wasn’t too bad but his head was spinning worse now and he had a hard time making out his surroundings.

Pushing himself up, he feels a presence approaching him from behind and he attempts to swing his arm back to strike them.^[1] Something yelps just as another creature darts by his legs and a rope tightens around his knees before his feet are yanked out from under him. Hitting the sand again, several more of these small clawed creatures pounce on his back and loop ropes around his limbs and neck.

“Get off!” He snarls and throws his head back to try and get them off his back.

Two pairs of clawed hands grab onto his horns and shove his face down in the sand.

“MPH!”

---

“He can be challenging to work with,” they admit. “But that comes with the nature of the work we do. Honestly, I refused his offers the first few times. Though he has proven that he is making progress on his plans.”

Snow gets a bit of a contemplative look on their face. “I am not someone with a lot of ambitions, sometimes when you meet someone who is so driven you just can’t help but get swept up.”

Snow’s nose twitches as they catch the scent of the Ashland Jackal musk. They gesture to Oriole and heads towards the scent. They enter the ruins of a building, the light given off by the torch casting shadows across the floors and what remains of the structure. As they start to root around in the rubble, the tabaxi stops and pulls their hood back, their ears perked up and focusing on something.

Listening closely, there’s a scrabbling noise not that far from them. It sounds like some sort of creature tippy-tapping their way across stone. Snow carefully puts the torch down between some stones and removes the longbow from around their shoulder. They look at Oriole and points towards where the sound is coming from before they notch an arrow.

---

[1] Fighter’s Sense

Cyran noticed Zarius fiddling with something on a nearby wall as he took notes and figured the tiefling found something of interest. He watched Zarius out of the corner of his eye, curious as to what he might have noticed, when a mechanism triggered and Zarius took a face full of powder that immediately sent him staggering.

“Are you alright-?”

Cyran didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence, though, as the stones shifted from underneath them, sending the two tumbling down a sloped floor. Cyran tried to stop himself from falling, but he couldn’t grab Zarius and the ledge at the same time. The two landed unceremoniously in a pile of sand.

Cyran pulled himself to a crouching position at the sounds of struggle, immediately raising Spell Slicer to fend off the- creatures?- after his companion. At least, he tried to, before something slammed into the back of his head, and Cyran’s vision went black.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out for- Cyran’s awareness came in and out to the sound of movement and hushed mutterings in a guttural language he didn’t understand. Clawed hands were dragging him, though he couldn’t make out their destination. Nor could he see Zarius, but the sound of scraping told him they were both being dragged. That was one of his last coherent thoughts before he fell unconscious again, and then…

Nothing.

Not until Cyran cracked his eyes open, slowly coming to consciousness, and found himself sitting in an upright position, back pressed against a cold wall. Ropes bound his arms and legs, and he didn’t need to see that all of his daggers, and even his coin pouch, had been stripped from him.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He murmured to himself. There was no point in mulling over what he lost- he had to focus on figuring a way out of this situation. Cyran quickly took stock of his surroundings. He was in a dark room, one with no torches, but he didn’t need light to see. There was only a single door, but from where he was positioned, he couldn’t make out what lay outside. Cyran scanned the rest of the small area, until his eyes landed on another figure in a similar situation to him, still slumped over.

Keeping his voice low in case any of their assailants were nearby, Cyran called out, “Zarius? Are you awake?”

---

Oriole nodded along to Snow’s story, somewhat in awe. Master Zarius must have been a charismatic man indeed, if he had been able to recruit someone as level-headed as the tabaxi seemed. The young thief wanted to ask more, but Snow’s nose suddenly twitched, and they led Oriole to a building seemingly at random. Oriole wasn’t sure what was so special about it, but Snow seemed to think it was important, so he followed along, sifting through the ruins looking for anything that might be of interest.

He did find a particularly shiny looking stone that the thief briefly considered pocketing before remembering Cyran’s warning to him. Oriole reluctantly set it down as Snow pulled out their bow, gesturing towards a nearby corner. Oriole carefully tilted his head, listening to the sound of claws on the old stone pathways, echoing in the silence.

Oriole huddled behind Snow as the tabaxi notched back an arrow, waiting for whatever was about to round the corner. He didn’t carry a weapon, but there were plenty of things around here that would make do. He snatched a brick off the ground and clutched it in his hand, waiting for the creature to round the corner.

A scaly head poked around the corner, sniffing the air, and Oriole nearly dropped his brick in surprise.

Dragonkin? What were dragonkin doing down here?

Zarius comes to consciousness at the sound of Cyran’s voice. His vision take a minute to focus on the darkened room around them. He leans forward and tests the strength of the knots. The ropes tighten and bite into his skin.

"Well. This is not ideal. Give me a moment."

He breathes. This would not be easy, the ropes were pretty strong with a lot of tension across his limbs. Scooting forward away from the wall, he rocks back and forth a few times before there’s a popping noise. The tiefling’s face grimaces a bit as some of the ropes on his arms go slack enough for him to pull them free.^[1] After a few more moments of struggling, he pops his one shoulder back into place and then gets his legs free as well.

Zarius gets onto his feet and is just about to go over to help Cyran when there's the sound of footsteps approaching the door. 

"Distract whoever it is." He whispers before turning invisible and creeping around to the door silently.^[2,3]

Sounds of a heavy stone grinding against the floor just outside the door echoes in the small chamber before the door creaks open. A few figures enter the space. The first is a burly looking 4 foot tall dragonkin with some patchwork armor. The second is a shorter dragonkin in some old jewelry holding an ornate spear. The shorter one looks down its snout at Cyran then notices something amiss in the room. They shout at the burly dragonkin who blinks slowly then sniffs the air. 

Zarius doesn't wait for them to realize he's still there and he grabs the spear from the smaller one, easily tearing it from its grip.^[4] He then throws the spear at Cyran, narrowly missing him but clipping one section of the rope around the elf's arms before it sticks into the wall. 

---

Stepping out from behind the stone doorway is the dragonkin, or rather, the dragonkins. Three of them, no taller than three feet each stacked on top of each other’s shoulders in some sort of strange totem pole. They’re red in color with defined brow spikes and short spines running down the backs of their heads.

The top one spots Snow and Oriole and exclaims in a tongue neither understands while flailing its arms. The stack sways unsteadily and the middle dragonkin snarls a response to the top one. The dragonkin at the bottom of the stack steps forward into the doorway and eyes the two, its tail lashing back and forth.

Snow glances back at Oriole, seeing that he had no weapon, they would have to be careful about starting a close combat fight. They hoped Eirynor was not too far away to provide support, but they also wondered why no signal had been made to alert them to any enemies. This place was supposed to be long since abandoned…right?

“We do not want a fight.” Snow says, keeping a keen eye on the stack of dragonkin.

The top dragonkin points at the pair and almost seems to be berating them, speaking in harsh tones and gesturing to the space around them. It goes on a whole tirade of a rant before crossing its arms and waiting for a response.

Snow doesn’t know how to even begin to respond, but his ear twitches as they hear movement from behind them. Another pair of these verticallly challenged dragonkin had snuck around and climbs up on the ruins in an attempt to ambush them from behind. Snow whips around and fires an arrow at one of them, the shot hitting true and knocking one back off the wall. 

---

[1] Escaping technique
[2] Invisibility
[3] Silent step
[4] Iron grip

Cyran’s own attempts to get free of his restraints were in vain, so he settled for watching as Zarius popped his own shoulder out of place to slide out of his ropes. Just before Zarius could help Cyran out of his own trappings, Cyran’s ears twitched as he caught the faint sound of footsteps against the stone floor, rapidly getting closer.

Cyran swore under his breath in elvish as Zarius whispered, “Distract whoever it is.” He nodded in affirmative just before the tiefling disappeared, and the door was thrown open. Two dragonkin stepped inside, one armored, another clutching a spear in its tiny claws. Cyran quickly tried to come up with a distraction, but before he could, one of the dragonkin noticed that one of the cell’s occupants was missing, and immediately began sniffing the air, slowly ambling to a spot in the cell right where someone invisible would be standing…

That was when Zarius reappeared and yanked the spear out of the smaller dragonkin’s hands, and all hell broke loose. Cyran ducked the spear that had been launched right at him- it narrowly missed, just nicking the skin on his wrist as it cut at the ropes binding him. Arms free, Cyran immediately raised his hand in front of him. The blood from his wound coalesced in his palm, solidifying into a heavy dagger.^[1] He didn’t waste any time immediately cutting at the rope binding his legs while the dragonkin were distracted with Zarius’s sudden reappearance.

Slinking through the shadows in the dark corners of the cell, Cyran rounded around on the shorter dragonkin that Zarius had disarmed and immediately plunged the crimson dagger, perhaps a touch darker than an elf’s blood ought to be, into the kobold’s back before it could make a sound.

The second one, he didn’t manage to stop in time.

The dragonkin opened its mouth and let out a shrill, primal screech that bounced off the stone walls, loud enough to alert any of their companions that were nearby. Cyran flinched, slashing at the dragonkin’s exposed neck with his dagger, but the damage had already been done. Their escape attempt had already been discovered.

Dagger clutched in his hand in a white-knuckled grip, Cyran turned towards the open door. They had no idea where they were, or what lay ahead, but they didn’t have time to be cautious and scope out their surroundings. For now, they just had to run.

---

“Are they… stacking?” Oriole asked incredulously as the three dragonkin perched on each other’s shoulders, wobbling and nearly smacking straight into the half-destroyed ruins. Oriole should have been afraid, but the sight of the three tiny reptilian creatures hissing and spitting at one another as if they were attempting to coordinate where to move.

Snow tried to reason with them, but there was obviously a language barrier. The dragonkin didn’t seem to speak a lick of common, which was strange. Most dragonkin that Oriole had met in the deserts spoke enough to communicate with humans. Nor did this language sound anything like the draconic Oriole was used to. No, this was more guttural, instinctual. Was it a different dialect?

“I’m sorry, we don’t understand your accent.” Oriole sounded genuinely apologetic, but before he could attempt further communication, Snow turned and shot at another kobold that had tried to get the drop on them, and the illusion of peace was shattered.

The kobolds in the stack immediately started charging forward, still wobbling on their unstable foundations, claws raised in an attempt to grab at the closest person- Snow, whose back was still turned.

“Look out!”

Moving on instinct, Oriole chucked the brick in his hands at the bottommost dragonkin with piss poor aim. He didn’t need good aim to strike the creature in the stomach, throwing it off-balance. The dragonkin screeched, spinning its arms as it tried to regain its bearings, but in its confusion, the second dragon slipped, falling right on top of the first. Without the support of the lower two, the top dragon slipped and fell, leaving all three sprawled face-up on the sand.

Oriole pulled himself to his feet, more bewildered than scared at this point. “Are they… dead?”

---

1. Crimson Armaments

“Good work.” Zarius nods to Cyran.

It was a shame they made such a ruckus, but they were free and able to fight back now. He rushes out of the room they were kept captive in and glances down both halls briefly.

“Let us hope we get lucky and we are not in some sort of labyrinth.” He comments before arbitrarily picking a direction and running that way.

Shouts of alarm echo down the stone corridors and the paths split multiple times as the two flee through the snaking passageways.

Spotting some movement up ahead on their left at one of these junctions, Zarius darts to the right and comes face to face with a doorway. There was no time to slow, so he slams his shoulder against the door, busting it in and scattering brittle petrified wood across the stone surface of the chamber beyond. It was a large domed room with a raised pedestal in the center. Perched atop the pedestal was some sort of glowing crystal, floating in the air all on its own.

“Huh, that looks like some sketchy occult artifact.” He glances back as the sound of several kobold feet pitter patter their way down the hall towards them.

---

“We’re not staying to find out.” Snow says, quickly notching another arrow and shooting at the second kobold up on the wall. It ducks under the ledge of the ruin to avoid the arrow.

“Come on!” The tabaxi waves for Oriole to follow as they jump over the collapsed tower of kobolds, grab the torch from off the ground, and get out into the street.

A stone whipped from a sling pelts Snow in the side of the head, sending the tabaxi reeling back and dropping the torch which flickers and scatters embers across the sand. A triumphant cackling of kobolds echoes from atop another ruin across the street.

The cackling is interrupted by a shout of surprise as one of the offending kobolds is suddenly thrown from the top of the ruin down into the street by an invisible force. The first kobold lands with a thud and a resounding cracking noise from one of their legs. They howl in pain and thrash about in the sand.

The other kobold looks around in confusion just before the blade of a longsword slices down across its chest as Eirynor’s invisibility breaks. They hiss and screech and claw at the now visible assailant before Eirynor bashes the hilt of his blade into the snout of the creature which drops out of sight.

The half-elf looks down at the tabaxi and Oriole, pointing sharply behind them as the three stacking kobolds get back onto their feet while the last ambushing one loads a pellet into a sling of its own from above and behind the group.

Snow holds their head and winces. Blood soaks through their fur and stains the palm of their paw-like hand.

“We have to regroup with Master Zarius and Mister Cyran.”

Notching another arrow, the catfolk aims and shoots another arrow at the silhouette of the kobold with a sling, firing and missing again but interrupting its ranged attack. One of the three stacking kobolds runs at the tabaxi and tackles their legs. Snow staggers from the impact but manages to turn and lean back against the ruin wall to keep on their feet. The other two stacking kobolds target Oriole who has no visible weapons.

The two sprinted down unfamiliar hallways, taking turns at random as they looked for anything that resembled the exit, and put space between themselves and the kobolds after them. Eventually, they came upon a doorway, and with no other options, Zarius burst through it, knocking it down with his shoulder as if it meant nothing. Cyran followed him into the chamber, a grand, domed room that was completely empty save the artifact perched on a raised platform, pulsating with an ominous energy that made a shiver run up Cyran’s spine.

“But what is it…?” Cyran didn’t have time to finish his question before the dragonkin that had finally been chasing after them caught up, swarming through the door. The creatures were small, but they were great in numbers, effectively blocking their only exit from this place.

They stopped at the doorway, eyes going wide when they saw intruders had found their way into the room with their precious treasure. Before the two could react, the dragonkin raised their makeshift weapons, raising their voices in a war cry. There was nothing for Cyran and Zarius to do but fight back the onslaught of dragonkin pouring into the room, intent on protecting their treasure.

They were small, but what they lacked in strength, they made up for in numbers and sheer determination. Some of them combined their strength by forming stacks of two and three. Within minutes the chamber was full of little dragonkin soldiers that were ferociously defending their artifact.

An idea occurred to him. A foolish one, perhaps, but their objective was to obtain occult artifacts for their client in the first place. Under the shroud of darkness, Cyran slipped away while Zarius fought off the kobold stacks, creeping up to the platform.^[1] By the time any dragonkin noticed him, Cyran had already grabbed the floating crystal, removing it from its pedestal, hoisting it overhead for everyone to see.

“Nobody move.” He commanded. Of course, the dragonkin did not seem to understand common, but that didn’t matter, as the threat was implicit in his voice, and the warning look in his face said that he would not hesitate to destroy this crystal any second. They all turned their attention to him, spitting and hissing curses at him, but none moved quite yet, fidgeting anxiously, as if waiting to see whether he would make good on his threat to drop it- or perhaps, more concerned with what the crystal itself was doing.

It did not occur to Cyran that the floating crystal might actually hold some kind of power, or that when touched by someone with corruptive dark magic in their veins, it might cause a reaction. As such, he didn’t notice the miasma of energy that began to gather, touched with dark magic.

---

Oriole could only watch as Snow- and Eirynor- fought back the kobold assailants. The fighters were good, but there were too many for them to take care of at once, and now Snow was injured. Despite the pain evident on their face, they still fought the creatures off.

Two of them sprinted at Oriole, noticing his lack of a weapon, but Oriole was quick, slipping past them to the torch that Snow had dropped on the ground. “Get away!” He cried, whacking the top kobold in the stack off of his perch. He frantically kicked at the other with his boot, but it did little more than send the kobold staggering back a few feet.

Where were Master Cyran and Zarius? Surely, if they’d heard the commotion, they would have come running to their aid? Unless they were somewhere where they could not hear the sounds of struggle…

Oriole ran up to the kobold assaulting Snow and took a swing at it with his makeshift weapon- it did nothing but annoy the Kobold, who immediately turned around to face Oriole. The other two were recovering as well, leaving all three to turn their attentions on him.

Oriole swallowed, taking a few nervous steps backwards as he clutched the torch like a club, the kobolds slowly surrounding him. It's going to be okay, he thought to himself. Master Cyran will save me.

---

1. Pass Without a Trace

By the time the kobolds all freeze from Cyran’s threats, Zarius has his foot jammed in one’s mouth while having another in a headlock. It's almost comical how he is stuck mid punch until he follows through and knocks a kobold's teeth out. 

The kobolds snarl and curse the two, hesitating to approach Cyran to retrieve the artifact. Zarius kicks a few off him and backs up to where Cyran is. 

"Well, that did stop them." He comments, but he feels a prickling on his skin as he nears the elf and the magical stone. 

Glancing back, he sees the dark energy starting to turn the glowing stone dark. That didn't seem to be a good sign, especially as the dragonkin start to slowly back down the hallway they had swarmed out of. 

"Maybe we want to put that ba-"

The stone suddenly flashes with a bright light erupts outwards with a powerful blast. Cyran, Zarius, and the kobolds are all sent flying through the crumbling dome as the top is literally blown off of it by the force. It's a rough landing as Cyran and Zarius are thrown onto the outside of the citadel and tumble down across the roofline and tiered structure. 

Zarius manages to roll back onto his feet right before reaching a ledge.^[1] He catches onto Cyran's arm and keeps him from flying off the edge and falling nearly fifty feet down to the next level down.^[2] He hefts the elf back up onto his feet and sees the crystal still in his grasp. The crystal wasn't glowing with energy anymore but upon closer inspection did appear to have some intricate runes scrawled across its surface. 

"Guess that worked out. Let us get out of here quickly."

---

Eirynor jumps down to the street level and quickly cuts down one of the kobolds trying to surround Oriole with a swift slash of his longsword. He grabs the back of Oriole’s shirt and pulls him back between himself and Snow, away from the other hissing kobold. He flicks his blade which ignites in a black-blue flame just as a few more kobolds dart out from behind the ruins.^[3] Snow keeps their aim trained on the closest kobold and glances at Oriole.

“Stay calm. So long as you keep that torch lit, we can defend ourselves.” Snow speaks calmly.

The tabaxi wasn’t thrilled with their odds. Their head hurt but it was manageable for the time being. Eirynor was reliable and they had some advantages thanks to the magic infused in their weaponry. They could hold off the kobolds for some time so long as they kept together and watched each other’s backs. Still, some time was not forever and who knew how many kobolds were actually down here hiding amongst the ruins. They needed to either regroup with their leaders, or flee topside.

“Eirynor. What do you think?” Snow trusted the half-elf’s judgement.

Eirynor was a sensible individual who did not take unnecessary risks. The half-elf glances about the surroundings, assesses the situation, and comes to a decision. They sign a message to the catfolk.

Snow nods and looks back at Oriole again. “Alright. We are retreating. We are on their home turf and we do not know how many are down here. The longer we stay, the more of a liability to Master Zarius and Cyran we become.”

Zarius' recruits do not wait to argue with Oriole over the plan. They had more experience and outnumbered the thief and were more than comfortable strongarming him if necessary. As far as they were concerned, Zarius and Cyran entrusted them with Oriole's safety and they would prioritize that above all else. Just as they start to retreat, they feel the underground chamber rumble and see a burst of blinding light emit from the citadel towards the back of the underground city. 

---

[1] Cats Grace
[2] Iron Grip
[3] Sigils Blessing - Fire Rune; Unholy

There was a moment, after the crystal’s explosion, where Cyran’s vision went completely dark from the force of the magical blast. His ears rang, making it difficult to hear anything as he, Zarius, and the remaining dragonkin were thrown through the citadel’s roof. Zarius managed to catch him before he could fall over- the kobolds were not so lucky, tumbling off the side of the roof, their high-pitched squeals the only sound that Cyran could make out as they landed at the sands below.

Zarius pulled Cyran to his feet, and Cyran brushed off his jacket as he tried to gather his bearings after being thrown haphazardly into the air. He glanced down at the crystal in his hands, desperately trying to piece together what happened. It was no longer glowing, or vibrating with power, which let him make out the runes inscribed on the side. He couldn’t make out what they said, but given what had just occurred, there was no question this was the kind of item their client might be interested in.

Cyran shoved the crystal in his bag like it burned him, not wanting to be in contact with it a second longer. “Yes, we shouldn’t stick around.” He agreed, peering down the side of the rooftop ledge to the ground below. The fall was short enough that he could vault himself over the side, sliding along the side of the wall and landing softly on the ground.^[1]

The two wasted no time hurrying through the alleyways of broken and dusty ruins. Cyran kept an eye out for anything familiar, or even Snow and Oriole, when the ground began to tremble, shaking the unstable foundations of the earth beneath their feet. Cyran stopped, shooting a concerned look at Zarius- had they run out of time already? But just as soon as it began, the shaking stopped, and the city fell silent.

That was when what remained of the citadel burst open in a flash of bright light and a great, terrible roar. Cyran whirled around, immediately pulling out his crimson dagger just as a hulking figure darted through the air, spreading its wings with a terrible cry, resembling the mural that they’d stumbled upon earlier. He’d thought the dragon was meant to depict their god, but as he watched the wyvern soar through the air, he realized exactly how wrong he was.

---

Orole clung anxiously to the torch as Snow instructed him to stay calm and keep their light steady. He wished he could chime in with his own opinion on what they should do, but the young thief was hopelessly aware that he was not a seasoned fighter like the two of them clearly would. He would listen to Snow’s judgment as Master Cyran had instructed, follow whatever they told him to. Though he worried for Master Cyran and Zarius, he did not argue when the others decided that they would make a tactical retreat.

Just as he was about to follow the other two, an explosion rocked the citadel behind them, the sound forcing everyone- even the kobolds- to freeze, all turning towards the source of the sound as the domed roof collapsed, and a series of figures that were too small for Oriole to make out were thrown through the air. Most of them looked like kobolds, but some of them were regular human-sized shapes.

Oriole stopped in his tracks, nearly dropping the torch. Was that Master Cyran? What if he was hurt? He tried darting off in the direction of the citadel, panic overtaking his l thought, but Snow grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and reminded Oriole that they would only be a liability if they tried to interfere.

Oriole reluctantly nodded, a knot of worry tying itself up in his stomach. But he knew he wasn’t a fighter, and Master Cyran and Zarius would be following right behind them soon as the three made a hasty retreat from battle.

---

1. Cat's Grace

Zarius curses under his breath as the giant wyvern bursts forth into the air and begins to circle around the smoldering remnants of the citadel. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Cyran drawing his weapon. The tiefling quickly puts a firm hand on the hunter’s shoulder.

“We are not fighting that thing, at least not like this. We need to find our gear quickly and regroup with the others.”

He glances about and spots some kobolds fleeing the citadel with a large chest they're currently dragging across the ground. It's weighing the group down quite a bit, and their attention is very much occupied by the presence of the wyvern. 

Zarius runs forward silently and a veil of invisibility falls over him.^[1,2] Racing forward, he slams into the kobolds and knocks them spiraling across the ground with a quick combo of heavy hits.^[3] He cracks open the chest which contains all their looted equipment. Finally a lucky break for them. Zarius tosses Cyran's gear to him, though the coin purse still seemed to be missing. There was no time to search for some spare Solars though. They'd have to go without. 

The wyvern makes another pass over the citadel and lets out a screeching roar. It spots some kobolds which are down on their knees, praising their arisen god. The winged lizard then flies down and promptly devours the individuals in a ravenous frenzy. 

A moment of distraction is all they needed as the two stealthy individuals continue to flee back towards the entrance of the cave. Zarius glances around for any sign of their allies and spots the place where they were ambushed. The scattered bodies of kobolds tells them enough. They were likely alive and knowing Eirynor and Snow, they would have taken Oriole to safety. That was good. 

They push onward as the wyvern takes to the air once more and begins to chase down more of the fleeing kobolds. 

---

Zarius’ guards manage to get Oriole safely back to the entrance of the ruins. Eirynor turns invisible and stays near the mouth of the cave to watch for their bosses or the creature while Snow finds some cover with Oriole.

“Stay with me and listen closely for anything coming our way.”

Snow sets out a few arrows for quick access. The runes on the arrowheads flicker with a dark, bluish fire.^[4] At least they had a way to know if Zarius is still whole or not.

---

[1] Silent Step
[2] Invisibility
[3] Two Piece
[4] Sigil's Blessing - Unholy, Fire