The world under the surface of Exandria was called the Underdark. Drow, Mindflayers, Beholders, and many more species lived deep within the caverns filled with subterranean plant life. The ruins of Shattengrod were different from Aeor. The magocracy that crashed in Eiselcross was a beautiful archeological city of danger and wild magic. Shattengrod was an underground chasm of death.

After descending five hundred feet, the stench of blood and rotting flesh attacked my senses. The mercenaries hired by the empire will probably be patrolling these halls, and I will have to look out for the creatures that live here. It would be dangerous, so I shifted out of my bat form. Keeping in line with the restriction I placed on myself, I drew forth the antimagic energy of the Aeorian Nullifier. On both arms, a claw from the Nullifier grew from my wrists. If something comes at me, it is getting stabbed. I still didn’t have an ability that could make my attacks magical, but the raw force damage the hunters gave me would work well enough.

There is also the fire breath I got from Blazeflight. In D&D 5e, an adult Red Dragon dealt 18d6 fire damage in a sixty-foot cone. That was an average of sixty-three points of damage. I could use this breath about twice a minute. Not much will survive unless they can resist fire or move behind cover. Even then, it will only be a matter of time before they either burn alive or surrender.

I continued down the tunnel. It eventually opened into a massive cavern where a city was waiting ahead. What might have been a magnificent metropolis hundreds of years ago was now a dead relic. The explorer's guide stated that the entrance to this place was once concealed beneath a massive pile of bones. The curiosity of historians in Rexxentrum unsealed this city to the world, but the dead buried here did not find their eternal rest.

Necrotic magics float in the air as tiny wisps in the wind. The aeorian hunters gave me immunity to radiant and necrotic damage, so I was unaffected by any lingering hazards. This immunity was put to the test when a Shadow flew out a wall to my left. Its ghostly hands swung at me, passing through my body, but I felt nothing. A second and a third Shadow came out of the walls and attempted to attack me but failed.

As a player, a dungeon master, and an overall lover of RPGs, this feeling was incredible. Shadows had a reputation for being more dangerous than their low level suggested. If they hit you, they could lower your total strength score. If your score dropped to 0, you died. I was immune to these attacks, so these undead could do nothing to me.

I stabbed the Shadows several times when they continued with their pointless attacks. They might have dangerous abilities but did not have much health. Two strikes were the most it took to end them.

This would be much easier if Onko, the pirate wizard, were here. His divination magic would make finding the Luxon beacon easy. It is a powerful dunamantic artifact, so I can track the magical energy it leaves behind. I cast detect magic with my Nullifier abilities and saw a lot of necromancy in the air and buildings. The city was saturated with undeath. It won’t be easy to find the beacon this way. I don’t think I have any abilities that could see it, so I could try to find someone who lives here and is still intelligent enough to answer questions.

I spent the next few hours walking around the city. Zombies, Ghosts, and other mindless undead attacked me, but I saw nothing capable of speech. I was nearly about to give up hope when I saw something command some undead and run around a corner. The shambling corpses were unable to slow me down as I charged past them after the figure. Rounding the corner, I saw a humanoid in nicer clothes jump onto a roof and run away.

“You can run, but I will burn this city until I find you,” I shouted at his back.

He stopped for a second and yelled. “Begone intruder. The Master commands it.”

“The master will have to be disappointed because I am in the mood for a conversation.”

He stops and turns around.

“Good. Lead me to your master, please.”

He bared his fangs and leaped at me.

I stabbed the vampire in the chest with my claw and hit his heart. His body then turned into a pile of dust.

“Well fuck. Hey, if anyone was watching, you need to know I will find you eventually. I won’t be as pleasant then.”

The shadows shook on their own. Nothing came out of the darkness to attack me, but I knew they were there. Not taking no for an answer, I shifted into Blazeflight’s dragon form and let out a roar that could be heard across the city. Someone would hear that and either investigate or piss their pants and hide.

“Are you going to come out now? Or am I going to have to come and find you?”

A voice from the darkness responds. “Alright, fine. Put away the fire, and we can talk like normal, friendly, mighty beings.”

A tall, elven man in green robes stepped from behind a wall. He had fiery orange hair and piercing green eyes. He was not a vampire lord but someone even more powerful. A fledgling god who is friends to heroes and enemies to many. A Traveler, an Archfey, a shapeshifter like me. This was Artagon, a minor deity, and a major troublemaker.

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“Hello, powerful and esteemed colleague. I am–”

I interrupted him. “I don’t have time for this Artagon. I am busy right now.”

“You could have let me finish. How do you even know my name?”

“You're the Traveler. A quasi-diety of mischief, trickery, dickery, and laughter. I met one of your worshipers in Nicodranus. A blue tiefling girl by the name of Jester.”

“Ah, Jester, one of my favorite devotees. It warms my heart to hear of her stories, but she shouldn’t know of my identity. So why do you know it?”

Still in my dragon form, I lean my long neck down to bring my head level to his. “I don’t tell secrets to fey. Especially not for free. I need something from this place. Help me find it, and you can learn one of the secrets about how I know your identity.”

“You don’t like fey? I am offended. But you can’t hate us too much since you are already making a deal with one.”

I breathe in for a second and lean my head back. “It is not you personally, Traveler. I was always apprehensive about fey when a Night Hag I hadn't even met yet hunted me; my apprehensions about fey only intensified.”

“Ugh, Hags. I love their creativity, but hate the cruelty. They have so much hatred in them. It's really a drag. If that is your only experience, then I can understand your hesitation. Now, let's put this water under the bridge and try again. I am Artagon, the Travler. Minor deity and all-around fun guy.”

Artagon had chosen to give his name, so one of the classic fey traps of giving out your name and the fey taking it didn’t happen. “I am Edsom. Shapeshifter.”

“That is a relatively short introduction. Where is the flare and majesty? You are a minor god like me, right? At least, that is what I have heard.”

“I have heard something similar. As much as I want to continue this conversation, I still need something from this city. Will you help me find it?”

Long ago, Artagan was banished to the Feywilds after he pissed off either some gods or other fey. He might have pissed all of them off. Almost twenty years ago, he met the adventurers Vox Machina. They asked him to use his powers to let them get some rest before the final fight against Vecna, and he agreed on the condition that they create a door that would help him escape the Feywild. They did so, and he began to wander the mortal plane.

When he met a young Jester Lavorre, he pretended to be a god. Her belief in him gave him power. Perhaps a little addicted to the admiration, he kept telling people he was a god and assumed the identity of the Traveler. It has gotten worse from there. In two years, he will organize a festival where he will unmask himself, fuck up pretending to be the Moonweaver, and nearly get himself imprisoned in divine jail. Jester will be the one to bail him out, but he will lose a lot of followers.

He can be trusted, at least. His portfolio is mostly all about how to have fun and not take life too seriously. Of course, most of his character development hasn’t happened yet. He might still be a bit of a dick right now.

“So what are you looking for? This place is rather dreary and could use some fresh paint. I think pink would be nice, don’t you.”

“I think yellow would look better. Make this place seem more vibrant. Anyway, I am looking for a grey dodecahedron about watermelon size. It glows with subtle cosmic light and shows the secrets of space and time to the person holding it.”

“That is an incredible artifact. Why are you looking for it?”

“I am going to give it to the people that worship it. I also want to keep it from falling into the hands of some asshole wizards.”

“Ugh, wizards. They can be a bit snobbish with their books and know-it-all attitudes. That is good enough to convince me. I will give it a shot and look around,” Artagon said, disappearing into green dust.

Fucking Fey.

A couple of minutes later, he popped back into existence.

“Your mystical geometric shape of power is in that tower over there. Somewhere around the top floors, guarded by a bunch of vampires. I am sure you can handle them.”

“Good enough for me. My turn to keep the deal. I know your Artagon because I know how Vox Machina helped you. I know you are the Traveler because you will tell Jester.”

“You know things I haven’t even done yet? How does that work?”

“Told you. I am after an artifact that reveals the secrets of space and Time.”

“That's cheating. It's no fun when you get spoiled on how the story will go.”

“That’s life, Arty. Catch you around,” I said and left for the tower. An Archfey can deal with not knowing everything right away. Solving the mystery is half of the fun.

The tower Artagon told me about was the tallest structure still standing in these ruins. It was also the only place here with light coming from the windows. I should have known this was the location of the beacon. It stands out way too much, practically inviting everyone to come and explore its splendor.

A shadow was swiping at me as I stared at the tower. A flick of my tail infused with force energy turned it into mist. I stopped thinking about what creatures would enter the Soul Dream when I killed them. Most of the undead may have at one point had souls, but they could have degraded from hundreds of years of being dead. That will be a conversation to have with Rubert next time I sleep.

I introduced myself to the Vampires in the tower by spewing a fire breath into the front door. Flames rise in and up through the tower. Stone begins to crack, wood burns, and tapestries become ash as the tower catches fire. I unleash a second breath, and the tower creaks as the stones that held it up weaken from the heat. There was no way to tell what 18d6 fire damage was regarding temperature, but I am pretty sure I can destroy a building with it.