Knowing that this artifact was the real goal of Charles's quest, the girls quickly hurried after him, heading straight for Xanathar's old lair.
All the way, the now-tiny Xanathar kept pointing ahead with its eyestalks, doing its best to escort them along. Having shrunk so much, it had lost the ability to speak normally—but at the very least, it retained its memories, still understood everything Charles and the others said, and naturally knew what it should do to lead the way.
Of course, even without Xanathar's guidance, Charles—having memorized the game's map—could have found Xanathar's treasury easily enough. He even recalled the nature of the puzzle on the treasury gates and how to solve it.
But right now, he wasn't in the mood to waste time or brainpower on little minigames copied by lazy designers from the internet. When they reached the iron gate of the treasury, he skipped straight to Eldritch Blast, smashing the door open with brute force.
Magical circles the size of wagon wheels spun behind him, unleashing a barrage of energy at the thick steel. With the screech of twisting, buckling, and bursting metal, Charles tore a ragged hole in the gate—big enough for a grown man to duck through.
Theresa moved up to cast Light, flooding the vault with bright illumination and revealing its interior in stark detail.
Seeing that all the treasures were still arranged as before—no trace of footprints anywhere—Charles let out a long sigh of relief.
Thank goodness, none of those guys got in here.
According to the lore, only Xanathar had access to this vault. Beholders float rather than walk, and Xanathar never bothered to clean, so a light layer of dust always covered the floor. Any interloper would have left tracks behind—a key clue for Xanathar to check for theft, but also handy for players to see if their loot had already been swiped.
From the looks of it, no one had touched anything. Unless one of those guys, who never showed a lick of spellcasting talent, had suddenly learned to fly and floated in to empty the treasury undetected.
Which meant, hopefully, the Stone of Grohl was still in its original spot.
That thought brightened Charles's mood. Relaxing, he strode inside, leaving a trail of clear footprints in the dust.
The witches followed, entering the treasury with curious eyes, surveying the treasures Xanathar had accumulated over years ruling Blackwater Port. Each woman's gaze soon locked onto something that piqued her interest.
Hattie wandered over to a giant aquarium, peering inside. The tank contained sand, rocks, coral, water plants—an entire tiny aquatic ecosystem.
Its sole inhabitant was a huge piranha, thick and menacing. Clearly Xanathar's pet, though why anyone would want to keep a piranha as a pet was up for debate.
Maybe Xanathar thought the piranha's teeth looked like theirs.
Under Theresa's Light, Hattie noticed the fish baring its fangs at her. One glance at those savage teeth sent an odd thought through her mind.
Ruth was drawn to the line of weapons mounted on the wall. Specifically, those with sharp blades—perfect for slashing. She sized them up with interest. Further improvements on blade sharpness might mean a lot for her fighting style.
Sephera, failing to find any cache of rare toxins, instead began tallying up the money: gold bars, pearls, gems, and artwork. There was less loose wealth than one might expect from Xanathar's private collection, but enough to keep her counting for quite some time.
Theresa, on the other hand, picked up a set of optical instruments—mirrors, convex and concave lenses, prisms. She was genuinely surprised that a beholder would collect such things, and found herself unable to look away.
As for Andny, Willo, and Adele, the treasury didn't hold much that interested them. The three women simply followed Charles deeper, all the way to the back of the vault.
There, under a transparent glass cube, lay a stone about the color of cement: pale gray, slender, shaped vaguely like a four-sided pyramid, its corners all worn and dulled. The stone rested quietly on a piece of red velvet.
Charles stepped up, peering down at it. A slow smile crept up the corners of his mouth.
This—this was what he'd come for: the Stone of Grohl.
He reached out and gently lifted off the glass cover, but didn't touch the stone itself, choosing to leave it right where it was.
Behind him, Adele stared curiously at the stone. "So this little thing is what you were after? What's it do?"
She reached out a hand to touch it.
Charles quickly pressed her hand down. "Don't!"
The moment their hands touched—an innocent gesture—Adele's face flushed and her movements grew a little stiff, her palm slick with sweat.
Charles, oblivious to her nervousness, kept his wary gaze on the stone. "This thing—it's alive."
Willo circled in from behind, sounding shocked. "Alive? Wait, you mean it's…"
Charles nodded. "Exactly. It's not a normal stone. It's an Aboleth."
The Stone of Grohl was, in truth, an Aboleth named Grohl, transformed by magic into its current form.
An Aboleth can read the memories of anyone with whom it has a psychic link. Once Grohl was turned to stone, its memories could be accessed by others.
So now, it served as the perfect memory vault—its master could store all manner of dangerous secrets inside.
Adele quickly snatched her hand back. She'd clearly heard the legends of Aboleths—not interested in making casual contact with a creature that scary.
Charles turned to call behind him, "Hattie!"
The deep-sea witch glided over. At his direction, she cast the Mage Hand cantrip, lifting the stone safely and floating it neatly into Charles's bag of holding.
With that last step done, Charles finally relaxed—certain the treasure was safe in his possession at last.
~~~
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