#kazimir oussnddare

[lumendelmari]

Epilogue

Fire and Ore

1485 DR / Day 44

The Darklake District, Gracklstugh 

Kazimir finished his meticulous check of supplies. The Stonespeaker Crystal, his spell components, rations, and the map of the Northdark were all accounted for and safely packed away. He glanced over at Zelyra, who sat nearby, her fingers idly tracing the patterns on Eldeth’s shield as she scanned the common room of Ghloroborn’s Lair one last time. After a moment, the wizard joined his druid companion in quiet observation.

The soft amber light of the lanterns cast flickering shadows across the stone walls, and the familiar scent of iron and thick smoke that lingered throughout Gracklstugh permeated the air. It was early morning, but the city above the cavernous tavern was already alive with the clamor of hammers on anvils, the deep guttural tones of duergar speech, and the rhythmic march of the Stoneguard.

The companions had no love for Gracklstugh. It had given them what they needed—sanctuary, purpose, and perhaps even a reason for camaraderie. Now, it was time to move on.

“Feels strange… doesn’t it?” Zelyra muttered. “Leaving this behind.”

Fraeya idly pushed a piece of dark bread around her plate, her silver eyes distant. “I’ll be honest,” she said, breaking the silence. “I won’t miss the air here—it smells like a forge that hasn’t seen a proper cleaning in centuries.”

Kazimir offered a crooked smile. “Probably because it hasn’t. But still, I think… I think I’ll miss it.”

They were gathered around their usual table, finishing their breakfast. Silence stretched among the group as many memories surfaced—from battles fought in the depths of the Whorlstone Tunnels to alliances forged with duergar, stone giants, and infernal war machines. There were parts of Gracklstugh that the companions would carry with them long after they had gone…

“We have made a difference in ways both seen and unseen,” Prince Derendil said. “But now we must look to the road ahead.”

“I’m sure Lizva won’t be sad to see us go,” the wizard quipped.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Nine said, her amber eyes flicking accusingly to Fargas. “She and Vanum received a fair amount of gold for all our trouble…”

The halfling shrugged. “I tip well when I like a place,” was all he had to say.

With that, they shouldered their packs and made their way to the gates of Gracklstugh. The city’s oppressive air closed around them as they walked through streets scarred by battle, past duergar rebuilding what had been shattered. There were no cheers, no fanfare—just the quiet acknowledgment of what they had done and what had been lost.

Captain Errde Blackskull was waiting for them when they arrived, flanked by an escort of Stoneguard. The duergar commander looked as formidable as the day they met her. . . . To read more: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35100307/chapters/156392497#workskin

[lumendelmari]

Chapter Forty-One

The Long Road Ahead

1485 DR / Day 42

Ghohlbrorn’s Lair, Gracklstugh

A strange calm washed over the companions as they returned to the tavern that had hosted them for the past tenday. The sound of their booted feet was muffled by the rush of conversation and the clinking of tankards. Lizva was behind the bar, shouting orders to the kitchen staff, while young Vanum scurried between tables, balancing trays of food and drink with the frantic energy only youth could sustain. The air was thick with the aroma of sizzling meats and the tang of duergar ale. Boisterous chatter filled the room, the patrons seeming to take solace in a small oasis of normalcy.

As the group settled into their usual corner, Prince Derendil gave a gracious bow, one clawed hand on his chest. “Allow me to secure the libations for the evening,” he offered.

While the others heartily voiced their orders, Nine declined.

“I don’t drink,” the ranger said, leaning back in her chair and watching the room with her usual wariness.

Derendil raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“Very well, I shall return shortly,” he replied.

Zelyra caught Fraeya’s slight smirk and shook her head, hiding her grin. Derendil’s attempts to retain his elven etiquette in a quaggoth’s body never failed to endear—and amuse—them all.

As the prince lumbered off to put in their order, Fargas kicked back in his chair and stretched his short legs out.  “So,” the halfling began, rubbing his hands together, “Now that we’re not busy dealing with dragons and duergar politics and nobody is trying to kill us—yet. What’s next for you lot? Once you stop running from that lovely drow priestess and her spider squad, of course.”

“Pass,” Nine said.

“Oh, come on!” Fargas winked. “There must be something rattling around in that thick skull of yours. Unless you just like tagging along with a bunch of misfits for the company.”

Nine rolled her eyes while the rest of the table fell quiet, considering the original question. Fargas’s casual grin belied a deeper curiosity; his hazel eyes swept over the group, each of whom he knew harbored many secrets. . . . To read more: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35100307/chapters/156331270#workskin

[lumendelmari]

Chapter Forty

Honoring the Fallen

1485 DR / Day 41

Darklake District, Gracklstugh 

The narrow streets of the Darklake District were quiet, save for the distant echo of hammers striking stone as Gracklstugh slowly pulled itself back together. Zelyra, Kazimir, and Prince Derendil moved through rubble-strewn paths, their footsteps slow and heavy. They were too exhausted to hold polite conversation. The cavernous atmosphere of the Underdark pressed in around them, a familiar, suffocating weight of miles of stone overhead. But as the trio entered the outskirts of the Blade Bazaar on their way to Ghloroborn’s Lair, Derendil came to a sudden halt.

“What is it, Prince?” Kazimir asked warily.

“Over there,” Derendil said, pointing to a cluster of debris. “Perhaps my eyes deceive me, but wasn’t that Gnaddne Tinmender’s place?”

“Who?” the wizard replied, trying to place the name.

Zelyra gestured to the enchanted cloak draped across his shoulders.

“Oh—Oh! Gnaddne!” Kazimir exclaimed, his voice quickly shifting from recognition to dismay. For the wreckage was indeed the remains of the deep gnome seamstress’s shop. The roof had caved in entirely, leaving only scorched remnants of support beams protruding like broken bones. Glass shards glittered among the rubble, traces of shattered windows, and an overturned sign lay cracked at their feet, its painted letters barely legible: Tinmender’s Wares. 

Two familiar figures were hard at work, sifting through the scorching debris—Manitou, the eccentric forest gnome with a penchant for surface-world teas and coffees, was darting about, his wild hair sticking out in every direction. Beside him, Brondiac, his bald and beardless hill dwarf partner, moved with the steady precision of a craftsman, lifting stones and setting them aside with quiet determination.

“We should help,” Zelyra said, moving forward even as she spoke.

Kazimir and Derendil quickly followed. . . . To read more: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35100307/chapters/154446946#workskin

[lumendelmari]

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The Dreamwalker

1485 DR / Day 41

Laduguer’s Furrow, Gracklstugh 

The sad pattern continued as Zelyra, Kazimir, and Prince Derendil made their way westward to Cairngorm Caverns. Destruction, death, silence, fear… The once bustling city of Gracklstugh was rank with it. What should have been a ten-minute walk quickly tripled due to the damage the red dragon, Themberchaud, had wrought.

And yet, there was one bright spot amidst the fallout—

Gracklstugh was already starting to rebuild.

The petty war that had broken out between clans was forgotten. Duergar, who had been at each other’s throats, needlessly spilling blood mere hours before, now rallied together and stoically worked side by side to put out fires, clear the streets, and search for trapped victims. The trio did what they could to help along the way, which slowed them even further.

As they navigated the wreckage of the southern housing district, Zelyra’s sharp eyes fell upon a figure lying near a collapsed building. The druid gasped and rushed forward. Derendil and Kazimir hurried after her. The body that Zelyra had found was none other than Grinta Ironhead.

Not only had Grinta been one of the co-conspirators of Blackskull’s coup—she was Laird Thangus Ironhead’s only daughter. [1] The once proud and fierce weaponsmith now looked so small and fragile, her armor cracked and scorched. Further search revealed Grinta’s honor guard trapped among debris. The elderly priest who presided over their Heroes’ Feast was also there. He lay flat on his back, his dark eyes trained upwards, lifeless and unseeing.

They had never asked the priest’s name, let alone thanked him for the powerful adjuration magic that had undoubtedly saved their lives in the throne room…

And now they never could.

“How did it come to this?” Kazimir muttered.

“Pride was allowed to override reason,” Prince Derendil replied, his head downturned. “No side would have come out of the coup without substantial loss. But they knew that, I think. Blackskull, Amber, Grinta, and the other lairds who sided with them… Themberchaud knew it, too. That’s why he chose to attack when he did. It was his best and only chance. This was a battle that neither side could have won.”

“They didn’t deserve this,” Zelyra said as she dropped to her knees beside the priest and reached out with trembling fingers to close his unseeing eyes in respect. “None of them did,” the druid muttered. She then brought her hands to her mouth in a gasp. “Poor Blackskull! She must—”

Zelyra left the conclusion of ‘guilt’ unsaid.

But both of her companions knew what she meant.

“Yeah,” Kazimir breathed.

The wizard reached into the pocket of his robes for the small, polished stone that connected him to Captain Errde Blackskull. He hesitated, his thumb rubbing its smooth surface before relaying the news and location of the bodies. Blackskull’s response was swift and clipped, but the tiefling could tell it significantly weighed on her.

“I will send a recovery team immediately.”

There was a slight pause, and then—

“Thank you for letting me know, Kazimir,” the duergar said softly. “Stay safe. We’ve lost too many already.”

Not for the first time, the tiefling wizard warred with himself internally. Surely, they could have done something more. Or perhaps they should have done the opposite and turned their backs on Blackskull, washing their hands of the duergar city altogether when they had the chance. But a nagging voice in Kazimir’s subconscious that sounded suspiciously like Fraeya argued that Gracklstugh would have been worse off had they done that. If they had not exposed Shal, if they had not broken the succubus’s hold and returned Deepking Horgar to his right mind—

Themberchaud’s attack would have devastated the City of Blades.

And that effect would not have been limited to Gracklstugh. Had the duergar city fallen to the dragon, it would have had untold consequences on the entire trade infrastructure of the Underdark.

“Any news of Amber Thrazgad’s whereabouts?” the wizard finally asked.

“None,” the captain replied curtly.

The link between the sending stones fell silent.

Kazimir sighed. It was strange, given that their interaction with the head of Clan Thrazgad had been limited to just a few short meetings, but the tiefling felt as though a rock had settled in the pit of his stomach. Had the fiery armorsmith met the same fate as Grinta Ironhead?

The wizard took another deep breath and then released it. Around them, the duergar continued their grim work, cleaning the streets and tending to the wounded. There was resilience to them, some stubborn determination to keep going despite all odds. Kazimir had come to respect it during their time in the city. They might not see eye to eye on specific policies—the slave trade, for one—but these were a people who had built their lives in the harshest of environments, who had carved out a place for themselves in the unforgiving Underdark. They would survive this, somehow.

. . . Read more: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35100307/chapters/152830810

[lumendelmari]

Kazimir Oussnddare, tiefling wizard, from 'The Grey Warriors,' a retelling of a completed Out of the Abyss (Dungeons and Dragons) campaign. (Not going to lie, his character portraits might be my favorite. :D)

Read the story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35100307/chapters/87436915