Around that same time I had acquired an excellent chart of some abandoned diamond mine from a dwarven friend who also had fought beside the Duke. The chart described a complex of considerable extent “Gulconda” that connected to the grand intermundian corridors beneath the desert of Yezez. There had been talk among the locals that Hermius'' treasure was not in Hermius’ Canyon, but lay hid in a chamber within a mine, with a mineshaft he himself had constructed for the excavation of diamonds. Recall that Hermius was a great conqueror who held sway over almost the entire of eastern Illystra (and a good portion of the West) in archaic times. His treasure is so grand, legends say, that those who have discovered it immediately misgive of envy and fear for their lives, at once sealing back up the tomb without touching it...or else they succumb to a laughing fit that deprives them of air. To seek Hermius’ treasure is something I might have done ages past in my youth. One should know better, but still, if only to glance upon it... I also knew that certain scrolls which are said to be part of what were to become the third elelynth volume of the Black Book were indeed stored with Hermius'' long lost horde. The DeepTracker''s Guide Now I spent much time pondering over how I could find the desert entrance to those fabled tunnels. The chart only described tunnels, not marking the location of an entrance. The desert of Yezez is rather vast, a narrow strip of waterless land stretching all the way from Kithom down as far as the Deadly Hills. After a while, realizing that few townsfolk were interested in risking death by being stranded in the parched desert for the sake some ancient scrolls, scrolls that should no longer exist, I put the project off for some time and took up writing my Underdyrth Bestiary. Nevertheless, in a letter to our dear Phaedra I happened to mention my interest in visiting the Authapian archives for records of Hyrzu’s expeditions in the Yezez, in order that I might be successful in my navigation to other lost caves there.

Abandoned mines are wretched and poorly ventilated places, often hiding extreme hazards. I have almost never heard any valuable codices being recovered from a mine, for although many rare books find their way below ground, most miners care not for books other than geologic manuals. Therefore I did not wish to enter into that place. After much writing and letter sending, with no results as to any old cartographical records kept in the imperial library, Phaedra and the Count begged that I instead take them to the Yezez diamond mine where they believed her brothers had been taken by an underworld power, according to a rumour (probably published by Arizel the wizard, that vulture). Indeed, such a rumour may even be on fact, but is it not meant to lure to a frail soul into places where she shall meet some demise?

There was also this: apparently the word was out that an entity, some sort of elemental ghost or intellect, a being which I know not how to class, named “The Great Wall” was enslaving humans who ventured deep to do its bidding. The encyclopedias mention little of this Kryptarch other than that it appears to operate by making magical passage through solid rock. When it hears adventurers crying out in some sort of trouble, it moves rapidly from a distance and appears on the surface of a cave wall nearby in the form of speaking lips. This miserable thing then calls out to the stranded or endangered party. It offers aid or escape to the desperate party in a variety of ways, such as making a passage through rock. In return for some benefit or deliverance, the Great Wall requires their oath-word and servitude.

I have known several mercenary-dungeoneers, men who think scarcely of the All-law, who therefore cannot reason their way out of continued service to the Great Wall on account of the oath they gave it. Among warriors the bond of one’s own spoken word is the most grave. Even a Wormheld will not go against his own sworn utterance. Such enslaved humans do not realize that no one is bound to an oath that is forced from them in dire circumstances. So if ye ever meet melancholy warriors in the Underdyrth or other areas who speak of their “eternal service to the Great Wall,” ye ought to counsel these things unto them and so win their swordhands for thy own quest.

For an unknown reason the Great Wall has been seeking diamonds. I conjecture that this entity may be in some sort of titanic struggle against a rival nephilung or anahit, and is hoping to find a perfectly formed diamond whereby to entrap his subaetherial enemy. At last, after many rejections explaining the dangers, I consented to guide an expedition, provided that an Ammouric monk accompany us. I found Brother Orbian, the monk whose disappearance had driven the students of Whilom on their quest. He had been picked up by Arizel’s sloop, his own ship burned, and himself taken captive by the Sorcerer. After Glaa the Rhuk had bombed him and his pirates with the bolder, Brother Orbian helped Arizel survive the rigors of the sea, according to goodwill. Arizel rewarded him with his freedom, but also demanded that they travel to Outhapis. The Sorcerer wanted a chance to steal the work of my excavations, and he needed a master of Latin to read my manuscripts.

We found Orbian after the mantis incident going through our guest rooms in the Count’s residence, looking for manuscripts. I chastised him and spent many hours trying to convince him that Arizel would betray him. So he repented and I introduced him as a guest rather than an intruder. He remained a guest of the Count and as a penance accompanied us on our expedition. Silvius, a slightly built elf-friend of mine, also had an interest in our expedition.

So we all entered into those dark corridors beneath Yezez, (from an entrance that I cannot disclose, nor may I reveal in written word how we located that entrance). The party had no idea what to expect, though I was fully aware of the potential danger. After much tearing down of old boarding and chains, we finally reached an area where many corridors led off in various directions. Droctulf determined by sense, or by some sort of knowledge of underground physic, that all the beckoning shafts, save but one, circled like snakes and returned to the same antechamber where they began, the place where we stood. Then Droctulf said: “Let us in twos make way down each corridor and yell out if we find the one which continues. I conjecture, by the tilt and dip of the layers, that the shaft which connects this sub-maze to the larger labyrinth goes east. Let the Count and Phaedra take the south passage which twists Westward, and let Brother Orbian and Silvius take the west passage, Droctulf and I shall take the northward passage. Keep an eye for any life-stealing traps, and we shall rendevous here in no less than ten sandfalls.” I gave approval and each went their assigned directions. As we all turned to go I noticed with disappointment that the Count and Phaedra had packed no torches. I brought forth my extras for them. “Here, take these. There will be scant light down there.” The Count spoke without hesitation. “We do not need them, for I have this...” He pulled from his cloak some ornate rod decorated with various Outhapian glyphs. “It is ancient they say, and has been in my family for many years.” The tip began to glow a wondrous color of alternate blue and red beams, and all were amazed. “I do not know what other powers it hides, but surely in these places at least this one is quite good.” But not so easily did I get taken in by the magic, and I examined it closely. “Doth thou recognize by what maker hath been fashioned this rod?” I asked with a tone of warning. He replied “No...I do not, what does it matter, it works.”  The DeepTracker''s Guide

Then did I give another one of my perhaps overly stern sounding warnings. “Ye may not find it wise then to rely on such a thing, for it may be of unlawful fashioning. Take these torches instead, they give natural light, a thing that has no physical superior in power, and they are predictable, and have the blessings of many.” The Count smiled in a way that seemed to patronize me as if I clung to vain superstitions, “Nay, keep thy torches, ye may need them more, I have long used this daedal rod and trust in it equally.” Then I looked at him with a grim frown. “Aye,” I said, “Ye trust in it, famous last words.” So the talk ended and off everyone went into their passages to explore. Droctulf and I, after only a few minutes, were of course assailed by one of those underworld denizens, Yellow Gelate, which dripped down from the shaft construction. The slime swiftly poured down my shoulder and, lodging us in place against the walls, began finding the cracks in our armour. Droctulf, who always gets the most brutal treatment, was endeavoring to pull the horrid thing’s pseudopod from off his beard. After I finished burning some of the thing off my left shoulder-piece with the torch, I went fumbling through Droctulf’s shoulder bag for the salt, he was holding his head in his hand groaning, crying out that he could not see, for another globule had poured down from above and engulfed his helmet, slipping its pseudopod in through the visor. It must have been a sorrowful sight, the two of us knelling there in that corridor, almost up to our waists, not able to move save for our arms and torsos. finally I got the bag of salt, and began to open it, but it was tied very tight with a strong wire. “Droctulf!” I cried, “why did ye tie the salt so tight...and with a wire!” It would not open unless the thick wire were untwisted. I would need to remove my armoured gloves which had been strapped on tightly with various buckles and knots of their own. for several moments I pulled and fumbled with it, but no use, the situation became desperate. “Droctulf!” I cried, “thy dagger!” “I can’t reach it,” he replied, “its tied below me-belt, in the gelate!” I demanded he try again to reach it, for our options were quickly running out. Alas, what were we to do? The Ochre Gelate was pouring down and so filling the little space, beginning to climb up higher, and it would soon submerge us. Already terrible pain there was, for the outer flesh of my legs was being speedily devoured. "The torch!" I thought. “Droctulf, -the torch!” Taking the salt I used the ember of my torch to burn a whole in the bottom of the bag. The salt came pouring through and I began sprinkling it about over the creature. At this the jelly became most horrified, actually making some kind of noise, just like a turkey might make, a sort of terrified gobble-gobble, and it jerked away, retreating more rapidly than I could have imagined it could, taking all the little slimy bits of itself away as well, and slithered off down the corridor disappearing into a crack in the stone wall. We recovered ourselves and had to go through the packs for medicine. The skin on our legs was sorely loosened and reddened, and Droctulf’s face was wrinkled and red, his eyes horribly bloated. We finally managed to get them open by flushing them out with the canteen of water. “Well, that''s the end of my water,” I said, “-but lo, are we not still among the living? I pray our companions do fare better, if this place is infested with jellies, they might even now be digested. At least it was not Hel Pudding or Chloro Slime. Let us go, for time is passing.” Then Droctulf looked up at me and said: “Oh, oh no! In all the confusion I forgot Herman! He went through the lump of half destroyed clothes and found the little cage. There was the pet mouse, still alive and not devoured by the jelly creature, but all his fine fur was lost and his skin was pink. Droctulf fed him some cheese as a consolation for his losses. We made way round the turning corridor and finally reached the point from where we departed. Brother Orbian and Silvius were waiting there, sitting on the floor playing a game of verbal chess. “What took ye so long?” Brother Orbian inquired, and with a grin asked “Did some beast assail thee?” Then Droctulf with some irritation replied, “As a matter of fact yes, the notorious Ochre Gelate is loose in these corridors and almost made lunch of us. How did ye wanderers fare?” They replied: “We did well, and found a canister bolted into a door which contained some diamonds, no doubt the stash of some thief.” Then was I very alarmed. “Did you take them out of the canister or in any way disturb them?” “Why of course,” replied brother, “why not? “I may have a vow of poverty but Silvius does not.” Silvius reaching into his pocket drew out the diamonds and showed them in the palm of his hand. I looked at Droctulf and he at me with disbelief and his eyes also were wide. “Ye fools! It is an old trick.” said Droctulf roughly. “did ye hear any sound, like a mechanism, pulley, or door?” Silvius was perplexed. “Yes, indeed, there was some sort of sound far off, like a moving chain, that we heard just then, at some distance, in one of the other corridors.” Droctulf took up the very large diamonds in his hand and examined at them immediately giving them back, “They are of glass, a fool''s diamonds, worth nothing. He frowned and said, “It was some sort of trap no doubt. Let me guess, ye tried the door and it was locked.” Silvius nodded, and Droctulf grumbled. “Bah, why did we bring such neophytes. These do not have the logical training for this work.” Then I cautioned him.

The DeepTracker''s Guide

“Easy, great Droctulf of the Western Mountains, remember how often ye have done great fool things and ended up in the Devil''s lap. Let us not throw blame, we hath some vexation, for that door no doubt is the one which leads deeper. It may be booby-trapped. Yet now another question arises in mine thoughts. Troubling, for lo, the Count and Phaedra should have by now returned.” Droctulf, looking around, replied. “Indeed, the corridor should not be so long as ours was...Come, we must find them, did ye not say that the sound issued from a distant corridor, we heard nothing, perhaps a trap has been activated in their corridor and struck them!” All four of us marched double pace with flaming torches down the grim corridor, and I realized that Phaedra had gone further than was wise before re-grouping, no doubt looking for some sign of her vanished brother-cousins. I took the anchor and Droctulf the point. we traveled some ways and the corridor began to turn, at the half way point of the circle, there were sanguine drips about the floor. “Check for trap doors.” whispered Droctulf. feeling around in the shadows it was Silvius (who I must remind you is an elf) with his intuition that found the secret trap door in the ceiling. This door was very large, not fashioned of stone, but of some other material and was held up by a spring. When we opened it we had to push away more big yuky webs that had been there for who knows how long. The blood trail had vanished but we kept looking, and entering the trap door by hoisting the tallest up last, found a cylindrical hollow leading northwest. “This looks like some sort of animal construction,” I remarked. We followed down the passage as it sloped downwards some twenty degrees into the depths, for quite a long ways into the dark. Finally, after a slow stooped march of ten minutes, Silvius pointed out another drop of blood, “It is human blood” he said. When the tunnel leveled and began to enter a large cave with a cage portcullis opened. Droctulf in front slowly and silently crept. He took his mace of seven spikes from off the sling of his belt, and held up his hand in a gesture to halt us. “Spider...” he whispered, “Carry arms...” Brother, who was in front of me, readied his wooden staff and I heard Silvius'' sword slipping from its sheathe like a hissing cat. I also readied mine throwing darts. Indeed, large portions of web were here and there hanging from the narrow ceiling. We entered the cave and the torches lit up an enormous spider some thirty feet suspended from the ceiling, twirling in his fore legs a cocooned body. She was hairy, not like most spiders of the underworld, and quickly spun round. Immediately she notices us with eight eyes and so reversing sped back inside of her little cylindrical web. She moved fast for a giant spider, for most are slow. Now we stood there looking upwards, for this cave had an elevate ceiling and the two victims were caccooned some twenty-five measures into the air, hanging... Then Droctulf spoke in a low voice. “This is a Murder Hole spider, a giant kept by goblins who feed them rats. In turn they serve as trappers for intruders. The trap-chain opened up her cage, and she probably scurried up her tunnel and waited for her prey to pass below. She simply stunned them and snatching them pulled them up from the hole above when she sensed their vibrations. Her poison merely causes comatose sleep, but in the meantime the beast drains thy blood. They are strong, but usually fearful of open confrontation, for they have slight armour, and she will avoid ye if ye are the aggressor, but it is said many of these are demon possessed, so be careful.” We circled about looking upwards, wondering how we could climb up there and take our friends back. One of the cocoons moved about, then Silvius sent his words to them. “We are here, but we don’t know how to get you down, do ye have some fire to burn the web?” Then the muffled reply of the captured Count came. “Nay, no fire, I am not much able to...” The other one, Phaedra, was no doubt already asleep. “Try not to fall asleep,” I told them, “try to stay awake, it is the poison that wearies thee. We cannot yet reach thee” Then suddenly the hairy beast sped forward and coming upon the Count inserted its tubular fang in him and drew blood. The Count squirmed and moaned, no doubt wishing he were back in his luxurious Authapian villa. Droctulf said to me: “Gnome, use thy speech-lore to speak the Arachnid tongue and make some bargain with the beast.” So I indeed thought it was worth a try. Now in order to communicate with such terrible beasts, one must recall that they are made by Allfather and have certain desires and impulses, as well as strange customs. Usually, I try a few words of introduction in order to sound good-willed and at the same time I determine the syntax and word formation system with the reply. So I spoke to the Arachnid their beast tongue which consisted of many dark clicks and hissing sounds by which I hoped meant something to the effect as follows. “Good evening, oh great one, please allow me to speak” The spider stopped, withdrew her razor tube from the Count and replied in a much different dialect than I expected. “Why do ye come here and disturb me? Await in silence over in the corner, for ye shall not escape.” At which I said, “Ye have taken my companions, please deliver them back or else ye shall not be fed any longer, its not right, ye know, for spiders now to dine on men.” At this the spider seemed to glare and her eyes seemed to glow red, she cursed and said “Ye will all die this very night!” Then Droctulf said, “I would guess that this is one of the possessed ones, what say ye?” I nodded, and he continued “...in that case we must destroy her...” (I remember that we did destroy that beast in furious battle, with bows and even with close sword strike. The beast betrayed fear of us, as it was possessed by demons no doubt, which are craven, but some of us were poisoned...)