While the group rests, Sartan is startled to hear a voice in his ear. A high-pitched, cheerful, and slightly brazen voice addresses him, “Hey buddy, you did pretty good back there!” He whirls around, saying “What the hell?” He doesn’t see anything. His companions look up and wonder, “What the heck is up with him?” The voice continues, “You’re pretty lucky you found me though. Killing demons is kinda my specialty, you know. Some of these demons, they’re not gonna be hurt, or at least not much, by these “normal” weapons you guys are carrying. That’s where I come in. I get the job done! You guys woulda been in a bad way without me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you found me! I was getting bored laying there! Now, my former partner, we did pretty good against demons – but iron spikes shooting outta the floor… well, that’s above my pay grade if you know what I mean. Poor guy got skewered! And I been laying there ever since. I’m glad you came along. You and me are gonna be buds!”

Sartan is finally able to determine that the voice is coming from the pommel of the ancient sword he has slung across his back. He is mystified, but he engages it in conversation, asking it questions such as how it came to be in the dungeon. It answers, “Well, I don’t really sweat the details… the why’s and the whatfors. Near as I could tell, ol’ Elric was onto something. There were demons showing up in the countryside and we pinpointed the center of their activity… basically right around where you picked me up. And we went after ‘em. Killed a few, but we never quite got to the bottom of it. Those damned trapped tiles put a little crimp in our plans.”

Sartan’s partners look at him like he has lost his mind. He says to them, “You guys don’t hear this?” With a look of deep skepticism, Cycek replies, “Um… no.” 

Sartan goes on, “This sword! The sword is talking to me!”

Mishok tries to talk to the silvered sword that he picked up from the other skeleton. He receives no reply, but notices delicate engraved shapes that seem to reflect a bit of light, despite the layer of tarnish that mars the rest of the blade. The blade bears a series of geometric shapes, phases of the moon, from a thin waxing crescent to a full moon and back to a thin waning crescent.

The talking sword laughs at this, telling Sartan, “Hey, your buddy is gonna look pretty funny talking to that hunk of metal. I mean, a silvered sword is helpful in certain circumstances, say against a werewolf or maybe some undead. But it sure ain’t gonna talk to him.”

Sartan says, “Hey sword, you know anything about these orange glowing orbs?”

The sword replies, “Naw, I don’t know. You can call be Demonsbane by the way. But that was some kind of portal, I guess. It’s the first time I seen one of them. But those cacklers came pouring out. And where do cacklers come from? The Abyss, that’s where! Gotta be some kinda portal from the Abyss. I wouldn’t mind going there…” The sword sounds almost like it’s musing about a dream vacation. “Man, that would be demon central. I looooove killing me some demons. I mean I hate demons. I hate em! But I looooove killing ‘em!”

The conversation with the sword is interrupted by Cycek alerting to a stealthy movement in the underbrush. Something is making a rustling noise within about 50 feet of their camp. The party quiets down while Cycek goes to investigate. He moves with a degree of stealth that few but an elven ranger could master. He soon sees a small weasel foraging among the rocks and weeds. He reveals himself to the critter, which seems to accept his presence with only slight reluctance. Cycek moves slowly and speaks softly, and gradually coaxes the weasel into his reach. Shortly, the weasel, sensing a kinship climbs up Cycek’s arm and rests on his shoulder.

Returning to camp, he finds his companions at an impasse, uncertain where to go or what to do. Sartan recommends heading back toward the road, while Davros favors going back into the cave to explore. While they are discussing, Sartan hears a voice coming from the wilderness to east. It is hard to tell how near it is, but he seems to hear a cry for help. Cycek on a hunch, asks his new weasel companion to scout out the scene. It clambers down his arm and heads toward the sound, darting from rock to shrub, moving quickly, but quietly. It is gone for at least 10 minutes. The group waits quietly, listening to the distant voice, trying to make out the words. Presently, the weasel, dubbed “Fuzzydong” returns. It sits upright on hits haunches looking at Cycek, turns its head back toward the sound. It drop to all fours, runs a few tight circle, and sits again, eyeing Cycek. Cycek tries to ask it questions, but the weasel is unable to answer in a manner that makes sense to the elf. Finally, Cycek says, “Lead us to what you found.” And it does so, leading them rock by rock, and bush by bush until the near the place from which they hear the voice.

They have entered an area where there are 6-10 foot terraced rock outcroppings. Before them, is an 8 foot drop off to a small grove of trees. Out of sight, but apparently near the base of the trees, a nasal voice, pleads, “Help me! Help me! Come on somebody, please get me out of here!” Sartan notices that there are large spider webs clinging to and connecting the tops of the three nearest trees. In fact, he soon notices a giant spider lurking in the topmost bare branches of the tree. Davros sees a grassy incline around the side of the stone drop off. He moves stealthily down and around while Sartan dips an arrow into oil, lights it, and fires at the spider. He connects, sending the spider scurrying down the tree trunk and igniting the webs in the upper branches. This commotion reveals another two spiders, one in each of the other two trees. Davros takes a shot at the nearest one, wounding it, but also alerting it to his presence.

The source of the distress calls now realizes that someone has in fact heard the calls and has come to the rescue. With renewed hope, the owner of the nasal voice calls out, “Hey! Hey, I’m here! Get these spiders away from me! Get them away! Help! Help!” Davros, with a clear ground-level view, realizes that these is a small, green-faced humanoid, wrapped up in webs and hanging near the ground as if in a web hammock. He calls to his companions up on the small bluff, “Hey! It’s a goblin! Do we want to rescue this guy?” To which the goblin replies, “Hey! Hey! Wait, I know you guys! Oh, thank the gods you came along!” C’mon, help me!”

Davros responds, “Who are you? Do we know you?”

The captive goblin hollers back, “It’s Stringbean! You remember me right!?”

The team up on the bluff, look at each other puzzled, but then remember, “Oh yeah… that’s the one who we captured on the other side of the bluffs. He gave us his climbing equipment for his freedom. That guy!”

At this point, puzzling over this situation comes to a halt, as the spider wounded by Davros rushes at him, and delivers a vicious, venomous bite! Sartan sends another flaming arrow at the original spider, but the third one also scuttles over to Davros’ position and prepares to attack as well.

Mishok joins the battle by way of his mechanical spider. He commands it to attack the nearest spider, and it follows this command flawlessly. It creeps up on the unsuspected “real” spider, and inflicts a bite that is tiny but amplified by a decidedly unnatural venom. The presence of a mechanical ally engaging a foe enables Davros to whirl toward the second spider and deliver a sneak-attack killing blow with his rapier.

The original “burnt” spider has decided to flee, but not without its prize. It grabs the bound, shrieking goblin, and begins to drag him across the brown grass toward safety of another cluster of trees across the glade. Cycek conjures a handful of goodberries, and he sends his new weasel companion to deliver one to the injured Davros. A few more attacks are made and soon the spider confronting Darvos is dispatched. The remaining spider, now alert to its danger, drops Stringbean, and hurries up a tree. But it is too late. The team pursues it and destroys it before it can do harm to anyone else.

Combat having ended, and the area apparently devoid of additional foes, the adventurers gather around the grateful Stringbean, and cut him out of his bonds. He is shaky and weak. They give him a goodberry to bolster his health, and then ask him a series pointed questions as to his presence there. Where did he go after they released him? How did he get here? Where did the spiders come from? Why did they see dead goblins and hobgoblins? He tells them:

“Since I last saw you, I have been trying to stay hidden. I’ve been wandering out here, trying to avoid being seen by any hobgoblins. And I’ve done that pretty well. I have always specialized in “outside” work… stealth, scouting, setting traps. But it was a job! Those hobgoblins though… they were working for the wizard, but they were never really part of his plan. Whatever he was up to, they were not interested. They have their own agenda. And they were using him, as much as he was using them. He hired them as guards, but plainly, they were scouting out his location with a plan to seize it for themselves some day. They have been scouting strategic locations for awhile. They want a stronghold. They have military goals in the area. Us goblins… well, most of us are with them. I mean, they bully us, basically enslave us, but most goblins are fine with that. But not me… I hate the hobgoblins. And if they find me now, they’ll kill me for sure for abandoning my post.”

Sartan asks him, “Do you know anything about the lower level?”

He replies “No, I’ve worked in the kitchen a little bit, and I slept in the barracks, but my assignment was mostly outdoors. I never went to the lower level.”

Mishok observes, “Barracks, huh? That must have been that room with the big bed. Stringbean, who’s bed was that all curtained off?”

Stringbean tells him, “That was where Eve slept. She was the captain of the guard, and she liked those fancy perks.”

Davros is uncertain that he can trust the goblin and asks him, “Can you fight?”

Stringbean replies confidently, “Yeah, I’m good in a fight. I’m not a mighty warrior, but I can take care of myself.”

Sartan asks, “What do you know about these orange glowing spheres?”

He says, “Nothing! I don’t know what they are! They scare me! I’ve seen them, and I run and hide!”

Satisfied with his answers, they give him a dagger and offer to allow him to stay with them. He mentions that he is hungry, and Cycek seems to notice him looking hungrily at Fuzzydong. He admonishes him against eating his weasel.

Before they have a chance to sort out their next step, they are again treated to a vibrating sensation, and the flickering of lights. They soon see a green orb emerge, up near the small bluff where they had encountered the spiders. “Green means good!” they exclaim and run up toward the glowing orb. They smell a floral, herbal aroma. Curious, and expecting a beneficial result, they thrown Stringbean into the orb. With a startled squawk he disappears. Nothing happens for a few seconds and then a refined, formal feminine voice addresses them:

“Friends. Be at peace. Be resolute. Your struggles have been brought to my attention. For the consequences of your battle go deeper than you realize. Your actions have meaning, and you can do good in ways that transcend your own time and place. I have faith in you to make the right decisions. And when this curtain which separates the material world from the celestial world grows thin, I can help those who are lawful and righteous. These tears in the fabric, like this one that is allowing us to communicate… some force triggered them. Something triggered a period of instability, like tremors in solid stone. It may subside. But some evil is at work, exerting its will to take advantage of this situation. I sense its malice, its will, and its power. I believe it is trying to open a gate large enough that will allow an entity of its stature to step through. Presently, these holes are small and of brief duration, and can only accommodate the passage of mundane materials and relatively diminutive, weak creatures such as the “friend” whom you presented to me.”

The group asks the voice who she is, and she identifies herself as Adara, a Deva and she inhabits the plane of Celestia. She is a servant of Tyr, and her role is that of a messenger. Demonsbane, hearing this, says, “Oh, hey Adara, how you doing?” They exchange pleasantries and it is clear that the sword is familiar with this unseen entity. Sartan asks, “You know her?” to which the sword replies, “Yeah, we’ve worked together a time or two. Good people, Devas.”

Adara continues,

“I can exert my influence only so far without risking a serious rift between planes – this would be bad for the world you know. Our adversary has no such concerns for your well being. I cannot mend these rifts – but there is one whom I believe can. She is the one you already seek. I believe she has the hidden knowledge to close these tears in the fabric. You must go to her, and bring her out. She can be redeemed, and she can be the solution to this instability between planes.”

Cycek suggests that perhaps there is a way to superimpose a green portal upon an orange portal. Adara seems impressed with his thought process and replies. “While this may not be literally possible, it is metaphorically akin to what I would propose. When you are ready and have an opportunity to enter a portal in search of the girl, then I may be able to engage the enemy in the space between our planes. The etheral plane that is neither here nor there, and yet both at the same time. I can preoccupy the creature, prevent it’s manifestation where it can reach you. I may have just the power to detain such a creature, for a time, but you must act quickly and decisively.”

The party is understandably concerned about the prospect of going into a hellish plane from which nothing but demons and molten rock have emerged. As the green orb begins to show signs of winking out, Adara offers to grant them each a blessing. Each member of the party thrusts a weapon into the orb, and receives the assurance that weapon will bear a blessing enabling damage to be dealt to abyssal fiends.

A moment before the orb vanishes, Stringbean comes tumbling out. He gets to his feet and stands upright, smiling, he looks strong and vigorous, stating, “Wow, guys! That was the best, most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Like a wonderful vacation. Those were the best weeks of my life.” Apparently time runs at a different pace on the other side of the portal.

With that, the party decides that they should set up camp for the night, as the sun will be setting soon, and they still haven’t decided which way to go.