Watcher of Fate

The Silver Hammer Inn was a sturdy, dwarven-built structure tucked into one of the many side streets branching off from Gabilanûr's bustling market. Its stone walls were polished smooth, and the heavy wooden door bore the deep imprints of countless adventurers and merchants who had passed through its threshold. Warm light spilled from the windows, and laughter and conversation could be heard even before Elara, Lily, and Kael stepped inside.

As they entered, the smell of roasted meat and ale filled the air, mingling with the warmth from the large hearth at the center of the common room. The inn was busy but not overcrowded, with several groups seated at large tables, trading stories of their travels. At a long table near the back, Owen sat with a group of merchants, deep in conversation. Upon spotting Elara, he waved them over, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Elara! You made it,” he said, standing to greet her as she approached. “And I see you brought your companions. Come, sit. We’ve been waiting.”

Elara took her seat at the long table, her eyes scanning the group of adventurers Owen had assembled. One by one, they turned to introduce themselves, and as each spoke, Elara couldn’t help but appraise them through the lens of her [Cognizance] skill, the information neatly overlaying itself in her mind, framing their introductions.

The first to speak was a massive half-orc sitting directly across from her. He set down his tankard with a heavy thud and grinned, revealing tusks that jutted out from his lower jaw. His voice was deep and gravelly.

"Thorne Ironclad," he said, tapping the heavy plate armor he wore. "I’ll be your shield if you’ll be my sword. I’ve tanked for more parties than I can count, so if you stick with me, you’ll be fine."

Elara’s eyes traced over his broad shoulders and the battle-worn armor, noting the numerous dents and scratches. His sheer size alone marked him as a powerful frontliner, someone who would draw enemy fire. His grin was infectious, full of confidence born from experience.

[Lvl 24 Half-Orc Juggernaut (Uncommon: 520)]

Next was a human woman with a sharp, focused demeanor. Her skin was a fair tan, and her long black hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She gave Elara a small smile, though a fire behind her eyes spoke to the intensity of her power.

"Mira Emberstrike," she said, her voice smooth but firm. "Elementalist. I specialize in fire magic, if it burns, I can probably control it."

Elara studied her appearance, Mira wore a sleek, black robe embroidered with red runes, glowing softly with arcane energy. Her hands glimmered with a faint warmth, suggesting she had a strong connection to her element. The intensity of her magic was something Elara could sense, even before she had spoken.

[Lvl 23 Human Elementalist (Uncommon: 490)]

The next to speak was a halfling who couldn’t sit still. He kicked his legs beneath the table, a wide grin plastered on his face as he spun a dagger between his fingers.

"Soren Quickfingers, at your service," he said, his voice full of mischief. "Rogue, sneaky type, and the best in the business when it comes to… acquiring things. Let’s leave it at that."

Elara watched as he twirled the dagger with practiced ease, his small frame betraying a dangerous agility. His movements were fluid, effortless, and the confidence in his grin was clear, this was someone who thrived in the shadows.

[Lvl 21 Halfling Rogue (Uncommon: 445)

After Soren’s introduction, a stout dwarf with a lute slung over her shoulder stepped up. Her thick auburn braid swayed as she gave Elara a warm smile.

"Bruna Ironstrings, bard extraordinaire," she said cheerfully. "I’ll keep your spirits high and your wounds low. Plus, I’m not too bad with a sword when the situation demands it."

Elara took in her easygoing demeanor and the light chainmail she wore, suggesting she wasn’t just a support character. Her lute was finely crafted, and her fingers already plucked a few light notes. Bruna exuded warmth and energy, definitely the kind of person you’d want boosting your morale in the heat of battle.

[Lvl 22 Dwarf Bard (Uncommon: 460)]

The last adventurer to speak was a broad-shouldered human man with sandy blonde hair and a calm, steady gaze. His leather armor was worn but sturdy, and a longbow rested against the side of the table.

"Faelar Moonshadow, uh, just Faelar, actually," he said, catching himself. "Ranger, tracker, good with a bow. If we need to move through the wilderness or track something dangerous, I’m your man."

Elara nodded at his introduction, her eyes briefly drifting to his longbow, which was well-maintained and clearly well-used. Faelar wasn’t much of a talker, but there was something about his presence that reassured her, he was a survivalist, a man used to navigating harsh terrain. He seemed the type to keep his calm even in the face of danger.

[Lvl 20 Human Ranger (Rarity: 425)]

As each adventurer introduced themselves, Elara’s mind processed the information through her [Cognizance] ability. These adventurers had their strengths and weaknesses, but more than that, they seemed eager and ready for the task ahead. She noted their levels, realizing she was significantly stronger than most of them. She had power but lacked experience, which they hopefully would provide.

After the adventurers had introduced themselves, all eyes naturally turned to Elara’s companions. Lily, who had been watching the proceedings with a faint, amused smile, stepped forward first.

“I’m Lily,” she began, her voice smooth with an edge of playfulness. “Illusionist by trade. I specialize in force multiplication through my little friends,” she added with a sly grin, gesturing to the shadows behind her, where faint silhouettes of her illusionary puppets flickered. “If things get messy, I’ll make sure we have more than enough bodies on our side, even if they’re not exactly... real.”

The other adventurers blinked in surprise, a few eyebrows rising at her cryptic explanation. It was clear that while they might not understand the full extent of Lily’s abilities, they respected the confidence with which she spoke.

Next, Kael stepped forward, his presence more subdued but no less commanding. He adjusted the hem of his shimmering dark robe before speaking. “Kael. I’m an ice mage. I’ll be keeping things cold when the heat’s too much,” he said with a slight smile, his eyes glinting with a sharp intellect. “My variation of ice is more offensive then defense-related.”

Finally, it was Elara’s turn. She glanced around the table, feeling the weight of their expectations. With a small grin, she said, “Elara, and... I guess you could call me a historian with a sword.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by a few chuckles from the group.

One of the adventurers, Thorne, the half-orc, leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “So, who’s in charge of this whole expedition?”

Owen, who had been quietly observing the interactions, cleared his throat. “I’ll be handling the logistics for the merchants,” he said, his voice calm but authoritative. “Making sure the supplies are in order, keeping the merchants moving as best I can. As for the adventurers... well,” he turned to Elara, “how about you? Want to take command?”

Elara hesitated for a moment. Leading wasn’t the issue but the Underdark was unfamiliar, and that brought more risk than she was comfortable with. “Honestly,” she said, glancing around the group, “I’d prefer if someone with more knowledge of the Underdark took the lead. I’m strong, but I’m no expert when it comes to navigating that place.”

A voice from the far end of the table spoke up. It was Faelar, the quiet ranger. “I’ve been in a few expeditions through the Underdark,” he said, his tone calm and steady. “I’ve led groups down there before. It’s dangerous, full of evil, hostile creatures, and the landscape is difficult. But I know how to handle it.”

The group shifted slightly, a few heads nodding in agreement as Faelar’s experience with the Underdark lent credibility to his words.

Elara studied him momentarily, appreciating his willingness to take on the responsibility. “That sounds like the knowledge we’ll need,” she nodded. “If you’re willing to lead us down there, I’ll follow.”

Owen nodded in approval, glancing around the table. “Unless anyone has any objections,” he said, his voice firm but calm, “we’ll leave at first light tomorrow. Be prepared, ensure you’ve got everything you need, and meet back in the morning.”

The group exchanged glances, but no one spoke up. There were no objections. Everyone seemed ready to face what awaited them in the depths of the Underdark. Elara gave a brief nod to Owen, who stood and clapped his hands together.

“Alright then. Rest up. Tomorrow, we start the real journey.”

---

As the faint echoes of the morning bell chimed from the city above, reverberating through the tunnels of Gabilanûr, the group gathered at the edge of the Eastern Ward. The streets were already bustling with traders and merchants setting up their stalls, but the adventurers moved with purpose, cutting through the morning crowd. Ahead of them loomed a dark, foreboding structure built into the side of the mountain, the entrance to the Underdark.

The defensive structure guarding the entrance was imposing. Thick stone walls, reinforced with layers of metal and intricate dwarven carvings, stood like a fortress before them. Large iron gates, reinforced with enchantments and dwarven engineering, were flanked by towering automatons, hulking mechanical constructs of stone and metal, each one etched with glowing runes of power. Their broad, mechanical arms hung at their sides, ready to act if necessary. Dwarven guards in heavy armor stood before the gates, stoic expressions suggesting they didn’t take their job lightly.

Elara couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the defenses. The gates were lined with sharp spikes, and the walls bore rows of protective wards designed to repel intruders. It was clear that the dwarves took no chances when it came to controlling access to the Underdark.

Owen walked ahead of the group, approaching one of the guards stationed near the gate. The dwarf, his face lined with years of experience, eyed Owen suspiciously as he approached.

"We’ve got business below," Owen said, his voice steady. "Need to head down into the Underdark."

The guard crossed his arms, looking the group over with a critical eye. “You know the rules, merchant. No one enters without authorization. It’s not just a passage; it’s a death sentence for those unprepared.”

Owen leaned in closer, speaking in a lower tone. Elara, standing a few paces behind, watched as he discreetly pulled out a small pouch from his cloak. It wasn’t obvious to most, but her keen eyes saw the flicker of coins inside. The guard’s expression softened slightly as Owen pressed the pouch into his hand.

“There’s always a way to make exceptions,” Owen said quietly.

The guard glanced around, his eyes darting to ensure no one was watching too closely. After a tense pause, he slipped the pouch into his armor and gave a curt nod. “You didn’t get this from me,” he muttered before gesturing to the gate.

The heavy iron gates groaned as they swung open, revealing a long, sloping tunnel carved deep into the rock. The dim light from above faded quickly as the entrance yawned before them, and the air grew noticeably colder.

Owen turned back to the group, his expression tight. “Let’s move quickly before anyone changes their mind.”

The group moved forward, the air growing noticeably colder as they descended deeper into the tunnel. The faint sounds of the bustling city above faded into silence, replaced by the soft echo of their footsteps on the stone floor. The tunnel walls were etched with ancient dwarven runes, glowing faintly in the dim light, guiding them toward their destination.

As they ventured farther, the tunnel opened into a wide chamber, its ceiling high and arched, supported by towering stone pillars. At the center of the chamber stood a massive archway, pulsing with a faint, eerie light, a magical portal. The shimmering surface of the portal rippled like liquid, its edges glowing with an otherworldly energy. This was the gateway to the Underdark, a threshold between the safety of Gabilanûr and the unknown dangers lurking below.

Elara felt the magic in the air, thick and ancient. The portal hummed with power, a swirling vortex of energy connecting the surface world to the dark, labyrinthine depths. She exchanged glances with Lily and Kael, both of whom seemed focused on what lay ahead.

Owen approached the portal first, his expression tense but resolute. “This is it,” he said quietly. “Once we go through, there’s no turning back. The Underdark’s vast, and it’s easy to get lost down there. Stay close, follow Faelar’s lead, and keep your wits about you.”

With a final glance at the group, Owen stepped forward, his figure dissolving into the shimmering light of the portal. The others followed one by one: first Thorne, his hulking frame disappearing into the glowing vortex, then Mira, Soren, and Bruna.

Lily smirked at Elara as she passed by, her illusionary puppets flickering in and out of view as she approached the portal. “Try to keep up,” she teased before vanishing into the portal.

Kael nodded to Elara, his face calm as ever. “We’ll be fine,” he reassured her, then stepped through the magical threshold.

Elara took a deep breath, feeling the cool, magical energy wash over her as she approached the portal. The Quill gave her a pulse of quiet reassurance. Steeling herself, she stepped forward, the cold light enveloping her as she passed through.

For a moment, everything was silent. The world dissolved into shimmering light, and Elara felt as though she were suspended in the void. But then, just as quickly as it had begun, the sensation ended, and she found herself standing on solid ground once again.

Now, Entering the Underdark.