Interlude

Grallika emerged from the tunnel, his low-light vision having already picked out the chief whipmaster, Tommaise, who crouched submissively.

"Report," Grallika hissed from beneath his deep hood, as he stepped out onto the ledge.

Grallika enjoyed the breeze that wafted through the cavern and the dank smell of the deep water. He watched the halfling slaves struggle on the rope bridges and enjoyed the sound of the four waterfalls. Thommaise was saying something about crimnal gangs in the city dying in clashes with the watch, and about the Order of the Emerald Claw being found and driven out. Grallika gave a grunt of assent and caressed his bandolier of scrolls. It meant nothing. They would soon unleash the Livya'Sohn from its magical slumber, and the great serpent's exertions would bring the city down.

Then he caught something that Thommaise was saying. "What?" he asked, whipping his head around so fiercely that the hood fell off, exposing his bestial face with the heavy brows and thick lips.

"B-bane is dead, Brother Grallika, we found him burnt up a few hours ago, the acolytes mrudered, and the sacrifices gone. I tried to contact you, but you were meditating and gave orders -"

"Who did this?!" demanded Grallika.

"We don't know," admitted Thommaise, licking his lips anbd sweating. "There are rumors of dragonmarked mercenaries hired by Fast Eddie -"

"Fast Eddie took his hidden boat and left the city," Grallika said with impatience. "And I have been secretly monitoring the Dragonmarked operatives in this city. They do not know of us - yet."

"Well sir, someone killed the kobold."

"Yes, yes, lucky watchmen maybe? No, I think not. By Khyber it is a riddle!" He sighed and turned around, putting his cloak back up. The halfling slaves had almost uncovered the obelisk. Soon it would be time to spill the blood of the shifter, proclaiming to the Dragon Below that Grallika held his arcane and clerical powers well about any racial loyalty. "Go back to your duties," he said, waving a hand at Thommaise. "We are almost ready to awaken the Ancient One, and the mercenaries in the chamber above will kill whatever comes poking around, or at the very least delay them."

"Of course, sir," Thommaise agreed, trotting off to uncurl his whip and lash at a halfling. The poor creature squealed with pain, missed its footing, and fell with a long scream to the water some forty feet below. It was not able to swim with its legs in manacles.

"Idiot," Grallika muttered to himself. He needed the slaves to finish their work on the obelisk before they were to be thrown into the depths.

Now was not the time to remonstrate the fool, however. Now was the time to check on Kegga.

The shifter foreman was suspended in the wicker cage, hanging below the edge of the edge, delirious with pain. He had been beaten and starved for two days to properly prepare him. Now he was bound by his hands and feet, his jugular vein standing out due to the brace that held his head and neck. One cut of the knife, and the blood would spray into the beam that the obelisk was supposed to call forth.

"Why?" Kegga called up to him, as the torches set high on the wall cast Grallika's shadow on the foreman.

"You're awake, how nice," Grallika said, fondling the handle of his magical dagger. It was adamantine, capable of cutting through steel, let alone a filthy unbeliever's throat. "Are you rejoicing in the knowledge that you will bring the Livya'Sohn awake after all these centuries?"

"Go to hell," Kegga spat feebly.

"Oh no, dear fellow," Grallika said with a laugh. "Hell is coming here."