Tarl

The elven inspector lays in bed, awake far earlier than he’d prefer to be. Thedeim told him today is the day he moves on Hullbreak. Even now, he’s trying to sort out how he truly feels about the water dungeon. He definitely doesn’t like it, that much is simple. It killed his mentor. And yet… he feels sorry for it.

He could have just left the whole mess at that, until that letter. And then he told Thediem about it, and that crazy dungeon actually said he’d do something about it! He’s been doing a lot about it, too, and has been keeping Tarl at least vaguely informed of what’s going on: infiltration, espionage, battle plans, and more.

He should feel relieved that the whole situation will be resolved soon, but he’s just nervous. Dungeon battles are always messy, and even with Thedeim doing what he can to keep it contained, the elf’s teeth are still on edge about it.

He sighs and gets out of bed, finally accepting that he’s not going to get any further sleep this morning. He decides to put on his full inspecting gear today. If things go well, he might want to go delve Thedeim’s new area. If it doesn’t go well…

He shakes his head to banish the thought, and focuses on putting his armor and gear on. It’s a comforting ritual, requiring his attention to keep everything placed just right, but not so active as to work him up into more worrying. Once properly dressed, he grabs a fruit and a crusty roll before heading out the door. He’d like to stop by Cobble Bread for breakfast instead, but it probably won’t actually open for close to an hour still.

Maybe he can surprise Telar by having a hot pot of tea waiting for her when she arrives. His mood lightens as he imagines surprising her in her domain, though his mood drops slightly as he’s reminded of her question about Thedeim.

”What would you classify him as?”

He stayed quiet at the time, not wanting to try to worm his way around the geas. Even without it, he’s not sure he would have replied, just for the implications of what he would classify Thedeim as.

Honestly, Cloistered isn’t too far off, if you think about it. It’s just a period of isolation at the start of a dungeon’s life, before being exposed to the outside. He thinks Thedeim did have a period of isolation, just that it was more in the middle of the dungeon’s existence.

The Guild calls them Lost dungeons, ones that have somehow been sealed from the world, often as a result of either a disaster or a fight between dungeons. Tarl can’t think of anything else to explain that strange vision he got when he first saw Thedeim’s core. Some kind of society with incredible magic, some kind of people living mundane lives full of wonder. The people… or the holes where people should have been, seemed to have access to incredible arcane devices and incredible architecture. Probably wonderful music, though he couldn’t hear anything in his vision.

His mentor used to talk about kobolds sometimes, about how they’ve probably forgotten more about dungeons than the guild will ever know. He’s tried to get Aranya to talk with him about kobold legends, but she generally changes the subject, or talks in the kind of vague riddles that historians sometimes do. It’s the kind of talk that Tarl always takes to mean the historian doesn’t know the answer, but doesn’t want to admit it.

Stuff like that is why Tarl never fancied himself an academic. Maybe if he was, though, he’d have more evidence to support his suspicion that Thedeim is somehow one of the kobold’s ancient dungeons. He has no idea how he could have ended up in Fourdock, if that’s the case, but he can’t think of anything else that could explain his development.

His musings carry him to the Dungeoneer’s Guild, and as he unlocks it, he hears a bell ringing. He, at first, ignores it, taking it as maybe a call to prayer from the Crystal Shield church or maybe someone signaling dawn. He’s not usually up this early to hear such things. It’s not until he’s in the kitchen, filling the teapot, when he realizes something is strange. The bell is still ringing?

He sets the pot over the fireplace, but doesn’t light it yet. Instead, he returns outside, trying to figure out what’s going on. He hears Poe’s cawing, which sets his instincts on edge. It’s not the kind of menacing cawing like when he faced down that one group of delvers, but it’s still strange to hear him. It’s even more strange to see the large raven scion winging over the rooftops. Tracing his path back, Tarl finally notices the source of the bell: Thedeim’s belfry.

He curses and quickly ducks back inside and scribbles a quick note to Telar, and places it on her desk.

At Thedeim

Tarl

He’d like to give more information than that, but he simply doesn’t have it. He quickly locks the door on his way out, and rushes to the dungeon. It feels… wrong to not be greeted by a chorus of caws, but he does his best to ignore it. He’s also not greeted by Teemo, which also just feels weird. Thankfully, he spots Tiny exiting the maze, and so hurries over.

“Tiny! Is something wrong?”

The large spider considers him for a moment, then extends a leg for the elf to climb aboard. He hesitates but a moment before doing just that. It’s not like Tiny is the Voice. Hopefully he can just take Tarl to someone who can explain what’s going on? Teemo would be the best, but if Thedeim is hoping to negotiate with Hullbreak, the rat scion will be indisposed there.

Entering a shortcut is always a strange experience, and it’s even stranger when riding Tiny. It really drives home how he shouldn’t be able to fit through one. He just closes his eyes and tries not to focus on the surreality of it, and soon finds himself in the public war room. He also finds he’s not alone. It looks like Thing is here with Larx, and as he hops off Tiny, he spots the spiderkin triumvirate exit a shortcut with Fluffles.

He’s not even sure the Conduit noticed him, as he quickly goes through a different shortcut. He stands for a few moments, awkwardly looking at the spiderkin, before the smallest one speaks up.

“So… what’s going on?”

“I wish I knew,” replies Tarl, his confusion growing.

They’re rescued by the voice of Larx, the elder ratkin speaking up so they can all hear him. “If you’d all come take a look at this, I think you’ll understand.” He steps a bit back from the map, letting the others move forward and see what he is seeing.

It takes Tarl a few moments to understand what he’s seeing, and he quietly curses when he realizes what it is. “Hullbreak is pulling something,” he grumbles, his eyes fixed to the encroaching mass of invaders depicted.

Vernew and Folarn look grim, but Norloke still looks like she’s in the dark. “What am I looking at?”

“An army,” replies the large tarantula woman, and the Huntsmistress nods.

“But what is it doing?” asks the orbweaver. “It looks more like it’s trying to attack the town, rather than the Weaver.”

“That’s because he is,” speaks up Tarl, gaining the attention of the dweller leaders. “I’ve read about some dungeons trying similar when they get into a war with a dungeon closer to a town, or situated in the middle of one like Thedeim is. If they can kill the delvers, they can cripple the rival’s mana at the source.”

Norloke looks horrified at that idea, and hesitates before speaking up again. “Do… do you think Hullbreak could manage to do that?”

Tarl frowns as he considers the question, before slowly shaking his head. “I don’t think so… but I don’t know if Thedeim can stop him from making a mess of the town and killing at least some people.” They all look grim at that, but Tarl continues. “What’s more: if Hullbreak actually manages to severely injure or kill any of the townsfolk, it’ll be reclassified as Murderous. The only thing that’s been keeping it from that classification has been that it wasn’t sending hostile expeditions.”

The dwellers all exchange looks, and Larx is the first to speak up. “What can we do to help? Evacuate the people closest to the sea?”

“...Maybe?” replies the inspector, looking frazzled. “I’ve never dealt with something like this before. The standard procedure is to evacuate if dungeons are fighting, but there isn’t really anywhere to evacuate to! Fourdock never really saw a point in planning for something that seemed like an impossibility!”

Norloke speaks up. “We bring them to the Weaver, at least the ones willing to come.”

“What about the army of birds?” asks Tarl, and Larx replies this time.

“Leave that to Aranya and Yvonne. They’ve already gone ahead to rally the delvers to provide a defense, should anything slip past Poe.”

Tarl still looks out of his depth, but at least he feels like he has a raft in this storm now. “Ok… ok. You get your people prepared to help and meet at the Dungeoneer’s Guild. Telar should be there by now. Between the two of us, we should be able to give groups quick paperwork to show that you’re all sanctioned to help them evacuate.”

Tarl sighs and sags slightly in relief at having a plan now, then steels himself, standing straight. “And after this is all over, I’m going to have a long talk with the mayor and the other guild heads. This is exactly the kind of plan that should have been in place, not something we have to throw together at the last moment.”

All gathered nod, and quickly go where they need to go. It’s a lot to try to do on the fly like this, but the consequences for failure could be dire.