After finishing their research for the vault, the Hand of Destiny headed out to find the missing pieces of the puzzle they needed to complete. They stopped off at the Spectre’s Respite downstairs to check on supplies and make sure business was running smoothly. They were about to walk through the door when it opened as Leif, their live-in poltergeist bartender, threw a drunk out into the street. When the bundle of rags stood up and faced the astounded group, they realized it was a destitute Gralmor.
They took him upstairs, cleaned him up and allowed him to sober up. Kariss cast a Lesser Restoration and he was immediately cleansed of alcohol. In his clear state of mind he was better able to explain how he came to be dressed in rags and getting drunk in a bar far from Iron Mountain. He explained that Kariss had convinced him that letting the Thornshields stay in power would lead to the ruin of all. He had been about to speak to his father about telling the king of Iron Mountain the truth of the events at Drakenforge. His father had spoken about the Hand of Destiny and how they were going to get revenge for the family’s embarrassment.
His father had been livid about their involvement in the rebellion that had taken place. Gralmor had realized his father meant to kill the group in retaliation. The last straw was when he openly vowed to kill everyone in the group for the death of his son. Gralmor knew he couldn’t let this violence continue when it had been the family’s fault to begin with. Dwarves always mined what they crafted and never let anyone else handle the materials. Upon their arrival Gralmor reported the plans and the violations of Dwarven law to the king. What had happened from there was pretty on par with how the king dealt with criminals.
The Thornshield name was eradicated from official records, all members of the family were put to death and their assets dissolved to the other noble houses or the crown itself. Gralmor himself was the only member spared because of his honesty and loyalty to the crown above all else. While his life was spared, his livelihood was not. He was, after that, a Dwarf without a name and without a home. He was expelled from the city with barely the clothes on his back and a few day’s travel rations. The gates of Iron Mountain became closed to him forever. Should he have children, they would also not have a name.
After that, he wandered for weeks through Neverwinter and eventually ended up in Waterdeep. He drank himself from one bar to another, working petty jobs for any coin he could use to buy more liquor. The Spectre’s Respite was just the latest stop in his never ending bar tour. He was alone, no family, no purpose and no one to fight for. Kariss was quiet as she heard his story. She had thought her words had fallen on deaf ears. Now that she knew how he had wrestled with the choice and the consequences he had endured she could only feel remorse at her harsh words that day at Drakenforge.
Kariss felt an overwhelming need to help him. She felt the power that Bahamut had granted her pulse in her chest and she held her hand out to Gralmor. She asked if he wanted a purpose again. He answered that he wanted a purpose again so much that he was afraid of losing it again if he got it. She explained that Bahamut accepted all people and as long as he upheld justice, as he always had, he would never be left out in the cold again. He would become a paladin for the great dragon god. Gralmore only had one question. He asked if he would be able to travel with Kariss if he took up this new mantle. Kariss said she didn’t see why not and Gralmor took her hand.
As soon as their hands touched the old rags that he had been wearing transformed themselves into full plate armor of platinum and encrusted with sapphires in homage to Bahamut. A shield and sword of the same material appeared on his back. Even his beard was sprinkled with platinum beads. A silver light flowed from Kariss’s hand into Gralmor’s and infused his body. When he looked up there was such a sense of peace in his eyes. Peace that had not been there for a long time.
Gralmore was sober now but still weak from his travels and the abuse he had heaped on his body. He promised to stay with Zenriel as she recovered while they went in search of the items they were looking for. The rest of them made their way out into the streets again to make their way to the City of Dead. The City of the Dead held all of the answers they were searching for.