Fluter Toter's and Burnin Cities

[Clan Blindhammer]

Artikerus was still finding sand in his clothes.

He had waited a few days, burying himself in the hot Calimshan sands, wandering around looking for the monoliths the Drow elf Nilan had mentioned, looking, indeed, for the drow himself. He had returned, only to find the sneaky elf in Dobluth K'yor ahead of him. Immediately he demanded the Elf lead him to the monolith, and the Elf had grudgingly complied.

They traveled back into the sandy dunes to find the slab. The runes, those that weren't being covered by the wind-tossed sand, moved of their own accord. Nilan stood back and crouched, resting on his haunches as he had eyed Artikerus. "Touch it," the elf bade him.

Artikerus had grumbled, but he had always had a fondness for magical things - not magics themselves, mind you, but magical items that could, say, return the rightful King to the throne of Gloomhaven - and so he complied.

Even now the images were more of a blur than anything else. But three points stood out in his mind. Leuthilspar, Dobluth K'yor, and Waterdeep would burn.

Artikerus snickered softly to himself. Not the worst trash piles to burn in these realms, after all. After seeing the monolith, Artikerus followed the elf back to his city, and after a brief stay, again trekked through the desert. He continued north, past the monolith, and during nightfall, silently entered Baulder's Gate.

Artikerus brushed a few more grains of sand from his packsack, muttering incoherently to himself. He took a hearty swig of a bottle of duergar ale and looked out the window of his room in the inn.

He had a flute totin' half-breed to find now.