Deacon explained their current situation in as much detail as he could. When he didn’t have clarity on a specific point he asked the bandit, now known as Michael, to fill in the gaps. General Ferent’s frown only deepened the more Deacon spoke. In his mind these outsiders came down from the world above and brought an apocalypse with them. Being a seasoned military man, he could recognize the people he picked up didn’t directly cause this incident, but they were responsible for it. The elders will likely have them locked up before long, pending some sham of an inquisition to make Mulvarians feel safe. Safety left the second these people showed up. If the old stories are true, that dagger is trying to make its way back to the paired sacrificial alter on the top of the ziggurat in the center of the old city. Not good, but they have time. There is a wide swampy moat separating the outer city from the inner city. After that, there is the wall covered in creeping vines. The General has never gotten a scout inside the inner city. Yes, this is the day they have been preparing for all these years.

“I’ve seen the weapons we confiscated from you. Are you good fighters?” asked the General.

“The four of us are members of the Adventure's guild. We are trained combatants. Why do you ask?” Armand stepped forward to have Deacon translate.

“I don’t know how the elders will decide what’s to be done but if I can convince them you are willing to help us, things may go smoother.” Said Ferent as several dozen other groups of soldiers fell in line behind the others.

The party was marched through a cave system that looked purposefully built. There were large stone doors and adobe like construction for dwellings built into the side of the cavern. This was all very close to the outskirts of the old city of Gossamer. Once led inside, General Ferent gave some orders to his small army of Mulvarians and went off without them. They were all seated in what looked like waiting room at the end of a long hall filled with cages made from stone.

“What did he say to his troops before he left?” Armand asked Deacon.

“Guard them and make sure no one sees them. Bring them water if they ask. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Deacon replied.

“Well at least we’ll get water.” Michael said.

“The less out of you the better. I’m not sure how we’ll get out of here. Sure, we could murder a few dozen of these less advanced people but that would be a crime. I’ve never heard of a race of underground mole people. Elle, is there anything in elven history about them?” Armand asked.

“Our history only mentions a barbaric race of mole men. Nothing like this. These people have a history, a society, and language. Did you see the signs above caves as they shuttled us in here?” Elle answered.

“I did. The civility with which they treated us speaks volumes about their character as a people.” Armand said.

“I’m more worried about these elders. Didn’t he say something about a translation stone? That means they are ready to enter the world stage. At least they think they’ll be.” Typhus spoke.

“We need to be very careful here. One misunderstanding could start a war. There seem to be a lot of them.” Armand said.

Just then there was a commotion down the hall. Someone was screaming and gesticulating down at them. The soldiers were holding back what seemed like female Mulvarian. Deacon leaned a little further out to see if he could hear what they were saying but he was just too far down the hall. The soldiers managed to scoop her up and drag her away but not before she dropped an object on the ground. It got kicked around in the shuffle of steps from the soldiers and skidded halfway down the hall.

“She dropped something.” Armand said as he stood up and walked out of the alcove with his hands up.

“What are you doing?” Elle whispered.

“I’m curious.” He said as he picked up the object, “It’s a holy symbol of Amon.”

“The god of Agriculture & Earth has a presence with the Mulvarians? Maybe they are ready.” Elle said.

“What does that mean?” Deacon asked.

“Typically, when a sentient race reaches the point of agriculture or farming, they are visited by Amon. It brings their society to the next stage of advancement. Prior to that they are what’s commonly called barbaric. Long story short, its important that we make a good impact while we are here. The Adventures Guild will want to know about them since they are so close to Iron Mountain Plateau.” Armand explained.

“It still bothers me that we haven’t heard anything about them before. You would think with all the mining operations around Iron Mountain we would have heard something.” Elle said.

“Its simple. This is underdark mentality. We always stayed away from the rumbling. When you live underground you learn not to expand in the wrong places.” Typhus answered.

“Seems convenient.” Deacon replied, “Also what are the chances that thing got kicked down to us.”

“Slim at best but there were a lot of guards.” Armand said.

“I think it’s more than that. I think it’s my fault. Remember when I said I was very lucky?” Deacon said as the soldiers at the end of the hall parted to reveal a stone armor clad General Ferent waving them back down the hallway. The group got up and reluctantly marched back down the hall.

“You have been granted an audience with the elders.” The general said.

“How does it look? Are we dead?” Deacon asked.

“All will be revealed. Just follow me, keep your hands to yourself, and pick the best talker out of the lot of you. Like I said the elders have a translation stone, so you won’t have to be a repeating jaberwock the whole time.” Replied the general.

“What is a jaberwock? It’s a dance troop where I’m from. I hope they didn’t get pulled here too.” Deacon snickered.