Jabrami emerged from the underground, blinking against the sudden brightness of the surface world. The air was crisp and fresh, a stark contrast to the damp, musty atmosphere of the Deeperdark. He took a deep breath, savoring the feeling of open sky above him, even as his dwarven instincts yearned for the comforting embrace of stone.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed a small, folded piece of parchment tucked into a crevice near the tunnel entrance. Curiosity piqued, he picked it up and unfolded it, revealing a note from the recruiter.
—
If by any chance someone reads this note, you are one of the few who have ever been able to manage this trial. Congratulations! You can be proud; surviving a month in those tunnels is no joke.
You will have to make your way back to the city by your own means. You are expected to present yourself at the guild headquarters. After facing a challenge like that, finding the headquarters should be child's play.
Please leave this note in the unlikely event that someone else emerges from the tunnel.
—
Jabrami read the note with a mix of pride and relief. He had done it. He had survived the trial and proven himself worthy. A smile spread across his face as he realized the magnitude of his accomplishment. Not only had he passed the trial with flying colors, but he had also discovered an ancient relic and formed a bond with Zar'kul, the legendary scorpion spirit.
He folded the note carefully and tucked it back into the crevice, leaving it for any other brave soul who might emerge from the tunnels. Then, with a deep breath and a determined set to his shoulders, Jabrami began his journey back to Rivermarch.
The trek back to the city was long, but Jabrami found it less daunting than he had expected. His experiences in the Deeperdark had honed his skills and sharpened his senses. He moved with a newfound confidence, his steps sure and silent even on unfamiliar terrain.
Twice during his journey, Jabrami decided to call upon Zar'kul. Each time, he asked the ancient spirit to remain small, no larger than his hand, to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Zar'kul appeared in a swirl of smoke, taking form before them. The scorpion spirit moved with grace and precision, its crimson carapace gleaming softly as its powerful legs carried it swiftly and silently across the terrain.
These brief encounters with Zar'kul filled Jabrami with a sense of wonder and power. He marveled at the bond they shared, at the ancient wisdom that seemed to flow between them. Yet he was also keenly aware of the need for secrecy. The power of the figurine and his connection to Zar'kul were advantages he couldn't afford to reveal just yet.
As Jabrami neared Rivermarch, a mix of emotions washed over him. He was eager to see Elysantra again, to share with her all that had transpired during his time in the Deeperdark. But he was also apprehensive about the challenges that lay ahead. He knew that infiltrating the Shadowblade Guild would be no easy task, and the stakes were higher than ever.
The city gates came into view, and Jabrami felt a surge of nervous energy. The last time he had passed through these gates, he had been a different dwarf: naive, uncertain, barely prepared for the world above ground. Now, he returned changed and hardened by his experiences.
To his surprise, the guards at the gate barely gave him a second glance as he passed through. Whether it was due to his more confident posture or simply that they recognized him from before, Jabrami couldn't be sure. But he was grateful for the lack of scrutiny as he made his way into the bustling streets of Rivermarch.
The city was a riot of sights, sounds, and smells after the quiet isolation of the Deeperdark. Merchants hawked their wares from colorful stalls, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the less pleasant odors of a crowded city, and everywhere people rushed about their business, oblivious to the dwarf in their midst.
Jabrami navigated the familiar streets with purpose, his first destination clear in his mind: the city's central bank. The imposing structure of stone and steel loomed before him, just as imposing as it had been when he first deposited the Shadowstone pendant. Guards in gleaming armor stood at attention, their eyes sharp and alert.
Inside, the familiar hum of protective wards and enchantments filled the air. The same severe-looking gnome who had assisted him before led him through the series of secure chambers. Each magical and mundane safeguard they passed reminded Jabrami of the lengths they had gone to protect the artifact.
As they reached the vault level, Jabrami felt a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. The rows of heavy, rune-covered doors seemed to watch them as they approached the one that held his most prized possession.
The gnome produced a series of keys and performed a complex series of gestures, deactivating the magical locks. With a final heavy clunk, the vault door swung open. Inside, nestled in a small, ornate box, lay the Shadowstone pendant.
Jabrami's hands trembled slightly as he lifted it, the weight both familiar and strange after their time apart. As it settled against his chest, a sudden surge of energy coursed through him. It was a power he hadn't realized he was missing; a subtle, pulsating force that seemed to resonate with his very being.
For a moment, Jabrami was tempted to keep the pendant on, to feel its comforting weight against his skin once more. But as his fingers brushed the chain, reality set in. He was about to enter the Shadowblade Guild headquarters. Having such a powerful artifact on his person would be far too risky.
With a resigned sigh, Jabrami carefully put back the pendant. He had survived a month in the Deeperdark without it; he could wait a few more days. The desire to uncover the stone's secrets burned within him, urging him to abandon his mission and set out into the world to seek answers. But he couldn't leave Elysantra to face the dangers alone.
Leaving the bank, Jabrami made his way to the safe house he shared with Elysantra. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of comfort after his long journey. He settled into the small, secure space, his hand instinctively going to his pocket to touch the figurine of Zar'kul. The sensation of the cool Crimsonite against his fingers was reassuring, a reminder of the bond he had formed and the power he now possessed.
Jabrami began to unpack his meager belongings, taking stock of his supplies and cleaning his weapons. He had just finished unpacking when he heard the sound of the door opening. His hand instinctively went to his weapon, but he relaxed as he recognized the familiar silhouette of Elysantra.
"Well, well, look what the cave troll dragged in," Elysantra greeted him, her voice dripping with sarcasm yet tinged with underlying warmth. "I see you managed not to become some monstrosity's dinner. How disappointingly competent of you."
Jabrami grinned, a sense of pride and accomplishment washing over him. "What can I say? I'm too stubborn to be digested. You should see the other guy... or should I say, the other multi-legged, cave-dwelling nightmare fuel."
Elysantra's eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "Oh, I'm sure you have quite the tale to tell. Come on, spill it. I want to hear every gory, ridiculous detail. Don't skimp on the near-death experiences."
Jabrami took a deep breath, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Well, picture this: a dashing dwarf, alone in the darkness, armed with nothing but his wits, his charm, and a pair of very sharp knives. Oh, and an unshakeable determination not to end up as some creature's appetizer..."
As he talked, Elysantra listened intently, her expression shifting from curiosity to astonishment. She leaned forward, completely engrossed in his tale, her eyes widening as he described his battles and narrow escapes.
When Jabrami reached the part about discovering the Crimsonite figurine, he paused, knowing that what he was about to reveal would change everything. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the figurine of Zar'kul.
"And this," he said, holding up the figurine, his voice filled with a mix of pride and wonder, "is Zar'kul. My new partner in crime... literally, I suppose, given our current endeavors."
At his mental command, Zar'kul materialized, growing to the size of a small cat. The ancient spirit moved with fluid grace, its crimson body gleaming in the dim light of the flat.
Elysantra's eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open as she stared at Zar'kul. "By all the shadows in Rivermarch," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "Ram, you never cease to amaze me. They send you into a cave, and you come back with an ancient, magical scorpion. Only you could manage something like this. I'm almost impressed. Almost."
Jabrami chuckled, understanding her reaction. "What can I say? I have a talent for making unusual friends. Though I must admit, Zar'kul here is in a league of his own. We've become quite the team. He handles the scary stinging, I handle the witty banter."
He went on to explain the bond he had formed with Zar'kul, the power that the spirit possessed, and how it had aided him in his journey. He described the visions he had experienced, the glimpses into the long history of the figurine and its previous bearers.
Elysantra listened with rapt attention, her eyes never leaving Zar'kul as the spirit moved about the room. When Jabrami finished his tale, she shook her head in amazement.
"Well, Ram, you've certainly outdone yourself this time," she said, her voice filled with a mix of admiration and wry amusement. "Here I thought you'd come back with some new scars and a few tales. Instead, you've brought back an ancient artifact and a legendary companion. You're full of surprises, aren't you? It's almost like you're trying to make my revenge interesting."
Jabrami felt a surge of pride at her words, but he also felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. "Life's no fun without a few surprises," he quipped, though his tone grew more serious. "But I know we're in for quite the adventure, Elya. Hope you're ready for some high-stakes scorpion wrangling."
Elysantra's expression turned serious, her eyes gleaming with determination. "Indeed we are, Ram. Now, we need to focus on the next steps. You've proven yourself more than worthy. It's time to bring down the Shadowblade Guild from within. Are you ready to dive into the belly of the beast? And by beast, I mean a nest of backstabbing, shadow-lurking rogues."
Jabrami met her gaze, his expression resolute. "Ready as a dwarf at an all-you-can-drink ale festival. Let's show these shadow-dwellers what we're made of. Spoiler alert: it's 90% beard, 10% sheer audacity."
Remembering suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring she had given him before his journey. "Oh, and before I forget, here's your ring back. Thank you for lending it to me. It was a lifesaver in the deep tunnels... literally. Saved me from dying of hunger and thirst."
Elysantra took the ring, a small smile playing on her lips. "Glad to see it served you well. And even gladder to see you made it back in one piece. I'd hate to have to train another dwarf in the art of subterfuge. Do you know how hard it is to find one with a sense of humor that isn't entirely beard-based?"
She pocketed the ring and turned her attention back to the matter at hand. "Now, let's focus on getting you into the guild. You'll need to present yourself at the headquarters as the letter mentioned. Time to put on your best 'I'm a dangerous rogue' face. Try not to look too much like a lost lamb in a den of wolves."
Jabrami nodded, his expression serious but with a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Right then. Time to channel my inner shadowy miscreant. Any tips on looking dangerously mysterious? Should I practice my brooding stare or work on my ominous chuckle?"
Elysantra began to outline the plan, her voice steady and confident. "First things first, you'll need to showcase your skills and the knowledge you've gained. Remember, the goal is to gain their trust and get close to the inner circle. Oh, and try not to trip over your own feet while attempting to look stealthy. It tends to ruin the whole 'dangerous rogue' image."
Jabrami listened intently, his mind already racing with the challenges ahead. "Got it. Impress the shadows, don't faceplant. Sounds simple enough. Anything else I should know? Like, do they have a secret handshake or a special way to order drinks at shady taverns?"
Elysantra rolled her eyes. "Just remember, the month underground was just your ticket to the guild. The real fun begins now. Think you can handle it, short stuff? Or should I find a taller, less quip-prone candidate?"
"Handle it? Please," Jabrami scoffed playfully. "I've faced eight-legged tigers and navigated endless darkness. How hard can it be to impress a bunch of humans who think wearing black makes them invisible? It's not like they can hide in my beard-shadow."
Elysantra's expression turned more serious as she continued, her voice low and focused. "Alright, tough guy. Time for a crash course in guild hierarchy. Pay attention, because this information could save your life. And no, there's no quiz at the end, but failing to remember might result in a very permanent kind of failure."
Jabrami leaned in, his playful demeanor giving way to genuine interest. "I'm all ears. Well, and beard. But mostly ears. Hit me with your shadowy wisdom, O Mistress of Mischief."
"The entry-level rank is called a Shade," Elysantra explained, her tone businesslike. "They're the new blood, tasked with grunt work like spying, pickpocketing, and information gathering. Basically, they're the guild's errand boys and girls. Think of it as the coffee-fetching intern of the criminal world."
Jabrami nodded, absorbing the information. "Shades, got it. I assume they're not actually made of shadow? Because that would be both terrifying and incredibly inconvenient for paperwork."
Ignoring his quip, Elysantra continued, "Next is the Cutpurse. They're a step up, specializing in stealthy thefts, quick escapes, and minor cons. They're starting to gain trust, but they're still considered expendable. Like the backup dancers in a bard troupe; necessary, but not the stars of the show."
"After Cutpurse comes the Nightblade," Elysantra said, her voice taking on a hint of respect. "These are the skilled ones. Infiltration, assassination; they're the go-to for the delicate work. They often work in pairs or small groups and start working directly under guild lieutenants. Think of them as the Special Forces of the underworld."
"The next rank is the Shadow," Elysantra explained, her tone growing more serious. "These are the elite. They can blend into darkness like they're part of it. They handle dangerous assignments and often lead small groups. They've proven their loyalty and have the higher-ups' trust. They're the ones you don't see coming until it's too late."
"Shadows, eh?" Jabrami mused. "I bet they're a barrel of laughs at parties. 'Oh, don't mind Steve, he's just lurking in the corner. It's kind of his thing.'"
"The Phantom rank comes next," Elysantra continued, ignoring Jabrami's comment. "They're the masters of the trade. Stealth, deception, manipulation; you name it, they excel at it. They're privy to sensitive information and act as lieutenants to the guildmaster. Think of them as the chess masters of the underworld, always three moves ahead."
Jabrami nodded, his expression growing more serious. "Sounds like a formidable bunch. I'm guessing they don't take kindly to newcomers. Probably not the type to welcome you with a fruit basket and a guided tour."
"You've got that right," Elysantra confirmed. "The second-in-command is known as The Hand. They oversee all operations and manage internal affairs. Think of them as the guildmaster's right hand; feared and respected by all. Cross them, and you might find yourself permanently lending a hand... to the worms in your grave."
"The Hand, eh?" Jabrami quipped. "I hope they're not too heavy-handed with their leadership. I gather in this line of work, a light touch isn't exactly prized."
Elysantra rolled her eyes at the pun but continued, "Finally, there's the Guildmaster, also known as the Shadowmaster. They're the big boss, the one pulling all the strings. Only the highest-ranking members know their identity. Think of them as the boogeyman of the criminal world; everyone's heard of them, but few have seen them and lived to tell the tale."
Jabrami absorbed all the information, his mind racing with the details. "Quite the pecking order they've got. So, where do I start in this shadowy hierarchy? Somewhere between 'cannon fodder' and 'slightly less expendable cannon fodder', I assume?"
Elysantra looked at him with a determined expression. "You'll start as a Shade. Prove yourself there, and we'll work our way up. Think you can handle being at the bottom of the ladder for a while? Or is that too much of a stretch for your vertically challenged self?"
Jabrami met her gaze, his expression resolute but with a hint of his usual humor. "Well, I am closer to the ground than most. Might as well start at the bottom. At least the fall won't be too far if I slip up. And hey, being underestimated has its advantages. They'll never see me coming... literally."
Elysantra nodded, her expression serious. "There's one more thing, Ram. You can't get your Shadowstone back yet, but you should be able to do so soon. We need to be cautious and make sure everything goes smoothly. Think you can resist the urge to play with your shiny toy for a bit longer? Or should I get you a regular rock to keep you entertained?"
Elysantra continued, "The guild headquarters is located in the old market district, hidden among the ruined shops and stalls. It's a large, decrepit-looking building, but don't be fooled. It's heavily guarded and well-hidden. Think less 'abandoned warehouse' and more 'death trap disguised as an abandoned warehouse'."
Jabrami listened intently, committing the details to memory. "A crumbling facade hiding a den of thieves and assassins? How delightfully cliché. I'll find it, no problem. Just look for the most suspicious-looking unsuspicious building, right?"
Elysantra looked out the window, noting the late hour. "It's already late. We should get some sleep. You can head to the guild in the morning. Try not to have nightmares about shadowy figures stealing your beard while you sleep. I hear that's a common fear among dwarves entering the criminal underworld."
Jabrami chuckled, "Oh please, my beard is too magnificent to be stolen. It would put up quite the fight. Probably strangle any would-be beard-napper in their sleep."
As they prepared for bed, Jabrami's mind was racing with all he had learned. The hierarchy of the guild, the challenges that lay ahead, the delicate balance he would need to maintain between his loyalty to Elysantra and his role in the Shadowblade Guild. It was a daunting task, but he felt ready for it.