Archive for January, 2010

31
Jan

Drago meets with G’ruk

   Posted by: Gar Dragonsbreath    in G'ruk, Gnolls, Huvat Vex, King Stronghoen, Kopep, Malarat Tribe, Rahk, Reptilian History, Thracia

Readying 18, Drago meets with Shaman G’ruk

Beware! Mammalian player characters should not read further! Trespassers will be ripped to shreds and eaten by lizardfolk.

Without a word, Drago relinquishes his weapons and bandoleers, knowing he is not without tricks if things go awry. He continues to watch for tell tale copper markings. Trakoadon ushers him into the tent and then leaves. The tent is large, dark, and smells of death and disease. In a shadowy corner Shaman G’ruk sits, performing some kind of ablutions. After a moment he looks to Drago.

“They tell me you came with a human expedition. That Chief Rahk had formed an alliance with them against the Deathwalkers but that you left.” G’ruk pauses and then continues, “I went down Hool River once when I was a hatchling. There’s a place in the river… I can’t remember… Must have been a gardenia plantation at one time. All wild and overgrown now, but about five miles you’d think that heaven just fell on the earth in the form of  gardenias…” He trails off and then continues rambling again, “Have you ever considered any real freedoms? Freedoms – from the opinions of others… Even the opinions of yourself. They say why…, Drago, why did the elders want to remove me as tribal shaman?”

Drago bobs his head respectfully, “Greetings brother G’ruk. Yes, it is as you say. The tribal elders spoke of removing you as tribal shaman when you divided the tribe with talk of raising the Immortal King from his deep sleep in the hopes of killing all that is not scaley.”

G’ruk hisses in annoyance, “That is ‘Shaman G’ruk’ or ‘Elder G’ruk’ to you, little hatchling. Remember to show respect to your elders. So, do you think my methods are unsound?”

Bowing his head, Drago replies, “Once upon a time, Shaman G’ruk, I thought your methods extreme, but now… my time with mammals left a foul taste in my mouth.”

“Ah, so you have seen the error of your ways, or rather the ways of Chief Rahk and the elders. Tell me, did Chief Rahk send you simply to help the Keolanders fight the Deathwalkers or did he send you out here to find me? Are you an assassin?”

G’ruk moves a little out of the shadows, and Drago sees that he grown larger, bloated even. It is as though he has for some time been engorging himself on the flesh and blood of his enemies down here in the darkness by the underground river flowing beneath the lost city of the death god Thanatos.

“No, Elder G’ruk, I am no assassin,” replies Drago. “However, Chief Rahk asked me to keep an eye out for you to extend his invitation and welcome for you to return home with our kinsmen.”

Now that Drago can see G’ruk clearly, he looks for copper markings on his fat body. However he sees no sign of any copper scales on G’ruk.

G’ruk says, “Well then, I welcome you to our camp. I was told you brought supplies with you, potions of healing and things that can be used against the undead. That would be useful to us. I trust you will put those at the service of the tribe. Now, tell me, how many were in your expedition and where are the Keolanders now?”

“Of course, Elder Shaman, all that I have and all that I am intends to serve the King of the City of Eternal Light and our people. As for the expedition, there are only a handful of Keolanders in the southwest quadrant of the city. However they are expecting twenty dwarves as back up from Melkot to arrive this evening. While I cannot speak for the dwarves whom I have not yet met, amongst the Keolanders there is only one who is the enemy of all reptiles. His name is Indranil and he is their wretched half breed warlord. Cursed be his name for all eternity! As long as he lives, no reptile is safe. If he is dead, however, I can bring the others over to our side as allies. The others are all friends of the Malarat and will listen to me. They may be useful yet and they are my friends.”

G’ruk chortles a bit when Drago mentions the “City of Eternal Light” and then hisses when the dwarves are mentioned. He hisses even louder and thumps his tale in disgust when Drago talks of the rest of his former companions, aside from Indranil, as allies and friends.

“We have no friends or allies among non-reptilians. They will all betray us in the end. They know that either they or we must be the masters of this world! As for those hairy beasts the gnolls and their ‘City of Eternal Light’,” he sneers as he says this, “We are using them just as surely as they believe they are using us. But it is purely a temporary alliance of convencience.  The so-called King of the City of Eternal Light is actually the king of the descendants of beast-men slaves who served the humans ancestors of these Deathwalkers. They live in a vast cavern magically heated and illuminated far below us. But that cavern was originally known as Huvat Vex. It was the pinnacle of reptilian culture and arcane lore when lizardfolk ruled this world! Mark me, we will reclaim it as soon as we find and awaken the Immortal King. Until then, we will serve their King Stronghoen as hunters and guards. By doing so we gain access to Huvat Vex and relearn its secrets.

“Now, I am going to make this clear. I will not be rejoining Chief Rahk or the rest of Malarat except in triumph at the side of the Immortal King. There will be no alliances with any humans whatsoever for they are destined to once more take their rightful place as the slaves of the lizardfolk. If you are  sincere in joining our cause then you will go out now with our trackers and show them exactly where these former companions of yours are hiding. We cannot allow the Keolanders or their dwarven allies to establish themselves here. They must certainly be kept away from the entrance to these caverns. King Stronghoen will also have to be told about this. Will you lead us to their camp and prove your loyalty to our cause?”

Drago shrugs. “Oh, it sounded to me like the King of the City of Eternal Light was referring to our Immortal King. I see now that I was mistaken. It is to Kopep, the Immortal King, the true and rightful king of Thracia, to whom I owe my life and powers, both body and soul. The Keolanders strive to bring disharmony between Gnolls and Deathwalkers. We are better served by letting the mammals thin their herds above while we seek the Immortal King below. Their silly games will keep them occupied for some time. They are much too cautious to simply storm the Thracian underworld. We can kill them later if they get in our way.” Drago keeps a respectful tone of voice, but knows he is risking his life to save his friends.

(Fade out for flashback scene as Drago reflects):

Sedara says, “The Prince’s scribes have not been able to translate the tomes that you found in full. They seem to be written in a strange dialect of Ancient Suloise. From what they have translated, one is a detailed history of the founding of the city of Thracia by colonists who came from the Suel Imperium prior to the catastrophic war with the Baklunish Empire. Another discusses the rise of the cult of Thanatos in that city written by a priest of Thanatos. The third tome describes how the Suel Imperium experimented in creating slave-races out of beasts using sorcery and alchemy.

“The scribes made copies of certain passages that they thought might be of particular interest to you. I have them here.” Sedara produces a scroll that she unrolls on the table before her. The translated passages are in Keolandish, with the originals in Ancient Suloise copied above the translation. “This first passage is from the first tome relating the history of  Thracia.” Sedara proceeds to read from the scroll.

“In the year 2106 of the Suloise Dating [Scribe’s note: -3409 Common Year], the Warlord Thrax discovered a pass through the Hellfurnaces. [Scribe’s question: Could this have been what later came to be known as Slerotonin’s Passage?] Thrax discovered a fertile land inhabited by a people who called themselves the Flan as well as the usually benevolent demi-humans such as the elves, dwarves, halflings, and others, but also the malevolent orcs, goblinoids, and beastmen. The Flan are a strong people, bronze of hue, with dark hair and eyes. [Scribe’s note: the passage goes on to describe the Flan civilization at that time, which seems to have been more extensive than what is left today after the Great Migrations.]

“Thrax and his band finally settled at a small village nestled between a cliff face and the beginnings of a vast swamp. [Scribe’s note: the description seems to indicate the Hool Marshes and the Tors.] Within a few years the colonists under Warlord Thrax had turned the village into a walled city and had begun conquering the surrounding Flan city-states. From this remote and hidden base on the other side of the Hellfurnaces, Warlord Thrax no longer feared that his enemies back in the Suel Imperium would find him or interfere with his plans. He also did not need to fear that his plans would be interfered with by the neighboring Flan kingdoms until he was sure his band of adventurers and his small army of Suel warriors were ready to overcome any and all opposition to their ambitions. In time, he declared himself a king, King Thrax I and the kingdom of Thracia was born.

“The Thracian capital was in many respects anomalous among the early cities of humankind. It grew and thrived amidst dank wetland and fetid swamp. Their small parcels of farmland proved to be supernaturally abundant, even sufficient to support a teeming metropolis in time. Even after King Thrax and his heirs had conquered far lands with better climes, the Thracian rulers and people did not migrate from their home. Obviously this was the result of the favor of the gods for King Thrax and his fellow Suel colonists.

“The jealous Flan, however, whispered the slander that in ages past an immortal king of some pre-human empire had ruled from an underground city of ziggurats in a giant cavern. This city was called Huvat Vex and it was located beneath the site of the present city of Thracia. From Huvat Vex the Immortal King ruled the surface world, enslaving the Flan and subjecting them to atrocities that are still remembered in their tales and songs. They even whisper that the Immortal King may still be  immured in deep caverns awaiting a time to awaken and restore his rule. It was the residual magic of that ancient empire that was the real reason for the success of the Thracians, so whispered the Flan nations and those subject to the Thracians. Such old wives’ tales aside, the fact of Thracian dominance in the world is incontestable.”

At the mention of the Immortal King, Drago looks up and around at the others.

Sedara continues, “In time, the drive to conquer gradually gave way to the joys of civilization. Conquest brought wealth and then peace, and with these came architectural wonders, art, scholarship, and magic. Trade with the Suel Imperium thrived. In time, great monuments of marble and elaborate houses of stone were erected. Pottery, sculpture, and paintings are revered. Men travel from all over the continent to wonder at Thracia’s marvels and study in its halls of lore. Truly Thracia has come to rival the Suel Imperium itself in terms of its power and prestige. Thracia, by the grace of Zeus, is eternal!”

Sedara stops reading and says, “The scribe who worked on the first tome believes that this was written in an earlier period of the history of the city. He compiled these passages from the first and last sections of the tome so that we could learn of how Thracia was founded and the heights that it achieved as of the writing of that tome. Unfortunately, there are no more details about the Immortal King or Huvat Vex. I asked the scribe if the Flan still told such tales, but he said that these tomes were sealed away more than a millennia ago and were telling a tale of centuries or even a millennia before that. Even the Flan no longer remember these tales. The second tome tells a darker story. It was apparently written by a priest of Thanatos and it tells of the rise of his cult in Thracia.” She takes up the scroll and again reads.

“For the greater glory of the Dark One, I, Thanatophilis, set down this history of the worship of Thanatos, greatest and most final of all the gods. I write this so that all may come to know that Thanatos is our final destination who brings eternal undying peace to all those who accept his authority and are granted his favor. As even the gods may die, only Thanatos, who has mastery of death and therefore the secret of undoing death, can claim to be the greatest power of all.

“Since the days of King Thrax I, we Thracians have ever revered the ancient and powerful gods of our forebears such as Zeus who brings the lightning, Apollo whose music is the sunlight, and a broad and complex family of gods who swore allegiance to them on their thrones on Mount Olympus. [Scribe’s note: I have never heard of any such gods or of any such place as Mount Olympus. Neither has Paragon Muire or Father Cuthmond, though the latter allowed that sometimes gods or even clans of gods have tried to gain influence upon this world from other realms and have sometimes succeeded in establishing themselves here.] During the building of the Mons Zeus, a gargantuan temple that lifted itself up into the skies, the Thracians of old discovered a cavern beneath this great city. The cavern was found to be pulsating with arcane force, and it was then that we Thracians realized that it is the chthonian forces of the underworld that are meant to be the true source and indeed root of our power in this world and beyond. No longer then did we build our temples above ground. New altars rose up under the earth, built in caves scintillating with shadow and light.

“Thus we dug deeper, though slowly at first. Five hundred years after the initial exploration of the caves, an unusual  underground river and spring were discovered. On the banks of this river we built our greatest temples, ever closer to the Underworld where our blessed ones dwell in eternal splendor. We buried our most revered heroes and kings within these complexes. We became ever more aware of the primacy of death and the afterlife as we dug our crypts deeper and deeper. At first a small seed, our meditations on death eventually blossomed into the recognition that Thanatos is indeed the greatest of all the gods, the ruler of all the powers as terminus of them all.

“Thanatos was initially worshipped as the guide to the Underworld, appearing in his visage of death at the end of life and ushering the departed into the world below. Gradually we of Thracia realized that Zeus of the lightning and Apollo of the Lyre could not even compare to the majestic silence and dark grandeur of Thanatos. In time it was revealed to us that his true devotees would not be merely relegated after death to the land of shades. Rather, Thanatos would both indefinitely extend the lives of his true worshippers, deferring for a time their leave taking from this world, and after death they would be
ushered into palaces of gold. These palaces would be stocked with all the good things they had offered the cult of Thanatos and his priests in their mortal lifetimes, but multiplied a hundred or a thousand-fold. In addition, they would be served there for eternity by the souls of their wives and servants who had either proceeded or would follow them in death. Once these revelations were made clear, the nobility and the wealthy merchants flocked to Thanatos’ worship in droves.

“Unlike the niggardly worship of the past, these new devotees no longer held back the offering of lives. For the glory of Thanatos and to our own everlasting benefit we now offer up to him the lives of the conquered, of irredeemable criminals, of wives and slaves who follow their masters in death, and even infants. I must note that this latter is not the atrocity that other nations believe it to be, for these are unwanted children and instead of endangering the lives of the mothers by attempting to induce an abortion through herbs or the knife, we simply dedicate the newborn to Thanatos. We are a civilized people
after all. Thanatos protects his devotees and does not take from us what we would not freely give. He is a scourge only to our enemies and the undeserving, and for us and our posterity he grants death only as a final mercy and a balm to our suffering.

“Two hundred years after we Thracians discovered the river and built the second layer of temples, a spelunker discovered the majestic subterranean cavern wherein lay the ruins of an ancient city. His account was confirmed and within days King Argos II of House Agamenton himself made the journey downward to behold the wonders of the ancient city that came to be called Huvat Vex after the old tales of the Flan. The construction of a third layer of temples was begun, and the greatest of all would be the temple of Thanatos, now the deity of Argos himself. Beneath this hall Argos would create an entrance to Huvat Vex, from which he would henceforth rule, creating a perpetual paradise in the never-ending light.

Thus began the golden age of Thracia, an era of labor beneath the earth. But the needs of Argos’ grand vision could not be met by the legions of Flan slaves that we already possessed for hard labor and sacrifice to Thanatos. Consequently Argos’ armies turned to domesticating the barbarous races of beast men scattered about his kingdom, the minotaurs, the hyena-like gnolls, and a brutal race of canine warriors that came to be known as the dog-brothers.

“For all their lore, our scholars could make no sense of Huvat Vex. A bizarrely constructed and intact city within a mystical cavern had lain utterly abandoned for millennia, as if all of the residents had simply disappeared. No satisfying solution was found, and to quell the caviling sophists Argos II, guided by the wisdom of the Dark Patriarch of Thanatos, proclaimed the city a gift of the Underworld and a place of pleasure for those favored by the lord of death.”

Sedara looks up from the scroll and says, “The tome does not tell us any more about the history of Thracia or the worship of Thanatos beyond that point. Because this Thracian kingdom did not exist at the time of the Great Migrations, the scribes believe that Thracia’s rise and fall must have occurred a millennia ago at least. The third tome is more complicated, dealing with arcane and alchemical experiments to create slave races. Apparently these experiments were a dark inheritance of the Suel Imperium. The scribes believe that the beast men such as the gnolls, minotaurs, and dog-brothers may have been the results of these experiments who had either escaped or were let loose by the ancient Suel mages. We should have more of it translated by the time you have returned. In any case, as you know, these beast men still roam the world, especially in the Pomarj and other wild places. I would not be surprised if you were to find them in the vicinity of the ruins of Thracia.”

“Kopep!?” G’ruk laughs, a harsh croaking sound. “Oh no, the Immortal King is far older than Kopep. Kopep visited our tribe only a couple of hundred years ago, but the Immortal King ruled from Huvat Vex millennia ago. He is far greater than any mere dragon. I have dreamed of him, and if you are worthy so will you Drago! So will you!

“Now I agree we should let the humans fight each other. Yes, you are right, let them thin each other before we strike. But until then we must keep track of them, and they must be reported to King Stronghoen in Huvat Vex. Trakoadon!”

The lizardfolk warrior, who must have been standing just outside, enters the tent. “Yes, Shaman G’ruk!”

“Take this one and find him a tent. Leave his bandoleer here with me. I will keep it safe until his return. Send Igusadon, Iguanosuth, and Kopusuth to me. Once Drago has been found a place and given some refreshment, then he will return to the surface with Igusadon and the others and he will show them where this Keoland expedition is camped. From that point on, make sure that they are watched carefully. Drago may then return here and we will find other duties for him.”

G’ruk addresses Drago once more, “I am sure you will have no problem with this,” he bares his teeth at Drago in a lizardfolk grin to show that Drago’s feelings about this are no longer of any concern to G’ruk. “You are of an illustrious line, my good Drago. You may yet be the key to finding and awakening the Immortal King. Who knows, Drago, perhaps you will have an important part to play in the restoration of all lizardfolk to their rightful place as the rulers of this world. Go now, and show that you are worthy of our trust.”

Trakoadon then ushers Drago out of the tent.

Drago bobs his head in respect, “As you wish, Shaman G’ruk.” Drago does not wish to betray his friends, but he really wants to find the Immortal King to see if it is Kopep with his own eyes. Perhaps… if he can send them a secret message to abandon the wight house, they will be safe?

No Comments
31
Jan

Drago Seeks the Malarat

   Posted by: Gar Dragonsbreath    in G'ruk, Malarat Tribe, Swamps, Temple of Zeus, Thracia

Readying 18, Drago alone in the Thracian Jungle?

Mammalian player characters should not read the following narrative! Any who dare to continue reading will have their eyes gorged out and be beaten by Gnoll patrols.

After Indranil attacks Drago, he and Lorindel escort Drago, still wearing the gray wizard hat, to the jungle at the southern edge of the city.

Drago remains stoic and silent during this ordeal. Without looking back, he heads south into the jungle on all fours, leaping with joy to be alone in the swamps once again.

When Drago thinks he is beyond their keen perceptions, he veers toward the east to begin skirting the ruined city, striving to stay hidden by the jungle brush. He looks for signs of his people and their enemies. He watches the city for clues of what lies within.

When he comes to the south eastern corner of Thracia, he rests as he watches the Deathwalkers’ villa for a short while. Then he proceeds north, still hidden by the jungle as it turns into swamp. “It almost feels like home here,” he thinks to himself.

As Drago makes this slow loop around the city, he makes a snack of the various bugs and rodents that he finds. He finally arrives at the point where jungle merges into swamp on the eastern side of the city. Drago enters into the water and begins swimming among the mossy cypresses. The water around him flows like a green, velvet carpet of leaves and algae. The ripples he makes in the surface of the swamp water, eddies out to slap lightly upon the wide, black bases of the trees that rise out of the gloom. Hoary beards of moss drip from the boughs of the trees, filtering the sunlight and casting an amber glow on the water through which Drago wades.

As Drago begins to feel a sense of peace fill him, he hears a call in Draconian. Looking up he sees that he has been spotted by a Malarat warrior who now hisses at him, “Who are you! Identify yourself!” From the ripples in the water around this warrior (who is at least 120’ away), Drago knows that other warriors are swimming towards him under the algae covered waters.

Drago realizes he’s still wearing that stupid hat and so tucks it under his bandoleer. Hissing back in Draconic, Drago says loudly, “I am Drago of the Malarat, your kinsman.”

“Well met,” replies the warrior. “I am Trakoadon and I remember you well.”

Drago realizes that he does know this warrior. Other Malarat lizardfolk emerge out of the waters around him. They are all armed with javelins, heavy clubs with ridges of alligator teeth, and shields made of turtle shell. Drago recognizes them all, though he does not know them by name. They were all members of that faction of Malarat warriors who most opposed Chief Rahk’s dealings with the “unscaled.”

Trakoadon swims closer and then asks, “So, what brings you here? How did you find us?”

Drago is over joyed to find his people. “Chief Rahk sent me on a mission with humans and half elves to fight the Deathwalkers who have been encroaching upon our tribe’s territory. But it turns out that G’ruk is right after all. The unscaled are only concerned with expanding their own territory. Most will never be on friendly terms with lizardfolk.”

The other warriors look to Trakoadon, who nods at Drago and says, “I see. I think you had better come with us. Shaman G’ruk will be happy to hear that another of our brothers has come.”

As they swam north and then west back towards the city, Trakoadon asks, “What is all this?” He gestures to the bandoleers, and in particular points to the hat with a sneer.

“Oh, I found the hat in the ruins. Don’t need it now.” Drago tosses it away into the water. Pointing to the full bandoleer, he says, “These are gravebane grenades to fight undead.” Pointing to the almost full bandoleer, he adds, “And these are curative potions. The Prince of Westkeep gave them to me to help our expedition.”

As Drago travels with his kinsmen, he watches to see if any others have the tell tale copper markings of Kopep. None of those present do.

Trakoadon stops swimming for a moment and turns to look at Drago. “This expedition you were on. They came here to fight the Deathwalkers?” It isn’t really a question though. Trakoadon has clearly guessed that they came to Thracia. “Where are they now brother Drago?”

Drago grunts assent. “They are about a mile away, brother Trakoadon.” Drago points toward the southwest.

Trakoadon mulls this over and then says, “We will tell Shaman G’ruk. He will decide what, if anything, should be done about them.” He turns away and resumes swimming, the others, nod to Drago to follow. Drago is surrounded  by warriors. They are not taking any chances that he will try to swim away.

Eventually they swim into the canal that empties into the swamp. It is in fact branch of the main canal that bisects the city, which heads off east into the swamp. They swim west up the canal for several hundred feet and then creep back out of it onto the southern bank and begin walking into the ruins on the south side. Far off to the southwest Drago can see the arena and he wonders if Indranil or Lorindel are watching from there. In any case, it is no longer visible as Trakoadon leads them into the cover of several more intact buildings. Finally the come to a ruined marble temple, with no roof and only fragmentary walls. A few trees have grown out of the floor by the entrance.

Trakoadon holds up his hand to signal to the others to stop. In Common he says, “[Password deleted].”

A voice from the trees by the entrance barks back in Common, “Go then into the dark and find the light.”

Gnolls patrol the ruins of ThraciaDrago looks up and sees that crouching on the upper branches at least 15’ up and hidden by the leaves are at least half a dozen gnolls with shortbows aimed at them. They put away their bows and Trakoadon beckons his small band and Drago forward into the ruins. He motions for Drago to remain silent.

Inside the ruins, Trakoadon leads them down a set of 20’ wide marble stairs that descend deep into the earth. Drago notes, before being led underground, that what is left of the interior walls have faded murals on them depicting some human god with flowing robes and a white beard hurling down lighting bolts from clouds and mountain tops on the hapless mortals below.

A little ways down, just before it gets too dark to see, Trakoadon stops the group and heads over to a small shelf inset into the wall. On it is a small clay lamp and next to that some flint and steel. Trakoadon gets the lamp lit and then they resume their trek down the  stairs, now illuminated by the flickering light of the oil lamp.

“It is better if you keep silent for now,” says Trakoadon once more speaking Draconian. “I know you must have many questions. I also find the gnolls distasteful. But we have formed a temporary alliance with them until… Well it is better if you wait and speak with Shaman G’ruk. He will explain it all to you. For now, be patient and silent.”

The stairs eventually come to an end in a large entrance hall that in the dim light Drago sees is about 50’ long and wide. Corridors lead off into the darkness to the right, left, and straight ahead. The walls were once painted in bright colors. Now faded, the scenes are of elaborate human ceremonies involving the burning of calves and other sacrifices to the gods. Other scenes show richly decorated Thracians bowing in supplication to various regally robed deities. The air in the room stinks of bat quano. Drago slips a bit on the marble floor and then looks down to see that almost half a foot of gray dung covers the floor. Tracks crisscross the fecal matter leading straight ahead and to the right. Trakoadon whispers to Drago to be careful and quiet. Then he holds the lamp up just a little, enough to show Drago that 30’ above the ceiling is covered with bats. “Do not disturb them,” he hisses. He then leads them off to the right.

They enter a ten foot wide plastered corridor that twists and turns and leads past one tripwire for a double spear trap and just past that a spear and shield bearing gnoll in leather armor in the corridor standing guard in front of a room full of more gnoll guards. Trakoadon also trades passwords with that gnoll guard in Common. Once past the guard the make their way down a long sloping passageway that turns left into a long stairwell. Drago begins to feel more and more claustrophic as they continue deeper and deeper into the earth. Drago even finds himself wondering if they are going into the infamous
Underdark.

They finally arrive at a large dry cavern filled with rubble. It is fairly dry with stalactites and stalagmites along the southeastern walls. Trakoadon leads them across the cavern, along the edge of a wall to their right. The ceiling arches up into the darkness. The cavern seems to be only about 40’ across but off to their left it stretches away into the darkness, where Drago can dimly see mounds of rubble and the beginnings of a small forest of stalactites and stalagmites where the wall of the cavern up ahead curves away into the darkness. He also hears the squakings and skittering of countless rats echoing all around. Up ahead is the entrance to a new  passageway.

The passageway is a short one however. After 20’ it opens onto a room filled with a foot of compressed garbage. On the wall to the left is a set of heavy oaken double doors bound in brass and before them another gnoll guard. Once again the passwords are exchanged and they are let through the double doors.

Beyond the double doors is another room of about the same size. This one is filthy with offal, food scraps, bits of armor, scraps of leather, broken and useless weapons, discarded boxes, broken furniture, shreds of cloth, garbage, and a motley collection of disconnected bones. On the far side of the room is another set of double doors and Drago notes that both sets of doors have heavy oaken bars that can be slid into place. Inside this trash strewn den are seven more gnolls armed with swords, battleaxes, and other weapons.  Two of them, probably commanders, are in scale mail and armed with greatswords. One of the lesser gnollsis stationed at a spy-hole in the
wall on the right. Another is cuffing and angrily growling at a wretched looking human male dressed only in a loincloth. Old scars and new bruises from repeated beatings are visible all over his body. He stutters something in the Gnoll tongue and cowers away. The gnolls ignore the lizardfolk, though Drago observes that at least one sneers at them as they pass by.

Past the second set of double doors they find another passage leading off to the right and then it turn right again they find themselves heading up a short flight of stairs to another passage that quickly turns to the left and after about 50’ they come to another natural cavern. This one has an underground river running through it. Once more the ceiling is lost in the darkness overhead as is the far bank of the underground river. Trakoadon leads them off to the left along the bank of the river and they come to a small cluster of animal skin tents surrounding a small bonfire. Drago estimates that there can’t be much more than a dozen lizardfolk that he can see, but the number of tents would indicate that thee may be at least three times that number living there.

Trakoadon tells one of the other warriors to run on ahead and alert Shaman G’ruk. He leads Drago at a slower pace to a tent larger than the others standing against the wall of the cavern, but then stops him before he can go inside. They wait and then the other warrior comes out of the tent and says, “He will see Drago.”

Trakoadon says to Drago, “You must relinquish your weapons and this,” he taps the bandolier, “before we can let you see Shaman G’ruk. Once he is sure of you, they will be returned to you.” The other five warriors stand ready in case Drago protests this precaution. It occurs to Drago that this is the kind of paranoia he had often seen among the humans, and is a little disturbed to find it here among his own kind as well.

Without a word, Drago relinquishes his weapons and bandoleers, knowing he is not without tricks if things go awry.

No Comments
31
Jan

Drago Cast Out

   Posted by: Gar Dragonsbreath    in Indranil, Kopep, Lorindel, Newt, Rain, Thracia

Readying 18, in the Wight House, City of Thracia

The following narrative is public knowledge for all player characters. You may read and enjoy without learning anything you should not know.

After Indranil gives instructions about the ambush they are planning, Drago salutes him and says, “Aye aye Sir! But I don’t need the Thracian armor. My spell will give that illusion just fine. Should I speak in Common?”

Adelina interrupts to ask, “Do we have to kill so many? Is there no way to take them alive? Please don’t misunderstand. I think it’s a good idea to capture one to learn from him, you’ve laid out a good plan for doing that, and I think we can pull it off. But I don’t like the killing.”

“Yes, Newt, there may be no way to avoid killing them,” responds Lorindel. “In our eyes, our mission is just, but so is theirs, in their eyes. There is no room for compromise. The Deathwalkers will not simply yield to our ways. Besides, we are no equipped to take prisoners. We simply don’t have the numbers to guard them safely. Besides, if it was reversed, the only reason they would take one of us alive is to torture,” concludes Lorindel.

Drago shrugs and says, “They are only human.”

“Drago!” Newt chastises, her tone a mixture of disappointment and disgust. “They’re people! And I, for one, don’t want to be like the Scarlet Brotherhood, brutal and cruel.”

Rain tries to hide a smile at Drago’s salute, finding it humorous.

Drago blinks, smiles and says, “Oh, you could never be like the Scarlet Brotherhood. The rest of us, however….”

“Do you… How can… But…” Agitated and unable, Newt crosses her arms and pouts, frustrated with her inability to finish her point. After a moment, she says quietly “Are we defending something, that we have to kill for? Who do you want to be?”

Drago cocks his head and ponders, “I am lizard. I kill to eat and survive. Are mammals so different?”

Rain takes Drago’s comments in stride, knowing he has no idea what it is to be human.

Indranil looks back and forth between Drago and Newt, opening and closing his mouth several times as if to say something. Then his mouth closes with an audible snap as his face clouds with wrath listening to Drago’s insults to human kind and allusions that this party is similar to the Scarlet Brotherhood. Aatu springs to his feet with a growl as Indranil draws his sword and before anyone can intervene has pushed Drago against the wall with his sword at his throat and says, “You have crossed the line for the last lizard-boy. I warned you before what would happen if you did this again. You are a worthless piece of shit, good for nothing amateur sorcerer, who has done nothing to aid this mission. I will no longer tolerate your antics. Leave now or face me in combat and die.”

Upon hearing this threat, Lorindel’s body tenses slightly. He looks over his brother’s face and realizes this is no idle comment.

When Indranil attacks Drago, Rain pushes herself quickly off the wall where she had been leaning, a dagger instantly appearing in her hand. She does nothing further but is wary none the less.

Snout to nose, Drago says simply to Indranil, “OK, I’ll leave.”

Lorindel’s focus switches to Drago. His sigh is nearly imperceptible and the slump in his shoulders barely visible.

Drago actually doesn’t mind leaving. He’s been looking for signs of G’ruk silently all along but to no avail. He thinks to himself, Now I will be free to find the other lizardfolk and heal relations between G’ruk and the tribe – and find the Immortal King, my ancestor Kopep the Copper Dragon, if I am not mistaken. I certainly understand G’ruk’s anti-mammal sentiments very well now. I have seen nothing but evil from the so-called “good” humans and half-elves.

“Be gone then and be warned. You will leave these parts and make no further attempt to enter this city or interfere with our mission. If we see you again in or around Thracia you will be shot on sight.”

“Brother, help me escort Drago out of the city to the jungle line.”

Lorindel says nothing, but walks over to Drago. He gives the lizardman a reassuring nod. “Just following orders. Your claws will be missed.”

Then turning to Indranil, he says, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Newt was going to respond to Drago’s comment, but after the surprise of Indranil’s reaction she holds her tongue. Newt hadn’t expected that at all! As Drago gathers his things, Newt goes over there and puts a hand on his shoulder. Such a difference between his hide and her human hand! “Drago, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would happen. I wish you didn’t have to leave.” She pauses, sad at the parting and then says, “I wish you well as you go and I hope we get to finish our discussion some day.”

Drago grunts his agreement and then points to his head. When he feels the familiar feeling of her probe, he thinks, “Me too. For now, I’ve been dreaming of G’ruk. I go to find my tribe. But please keep this to yourself. I will look for your parents too. Always.” Drago smiles affectionately. “Rain will look after you. Oh, you can tell her, but only her.”

Newt nods but says nothing more.

Indranil and Lorindel then escort Drago, still wearing the gray wizard hat, to the jungle at the southern edge of the city.

Drago remains stoic and silent during this ordeal. Without looking back, he heads south into the jungle on all fours, leaping with joy to be alone in the swamps once again.

No Comments
13
Jan

Moving into the Wight House

   Posted by: Gar Dragonsbreath    in Disrupt Undead, Indranil, Lorindel, Newt, Rain, Thracia, Undead Monsters

Readying 15, 591

Before sunrise, Indranil and his team make their way back into the ruined city. Rope is strung across the street south of the wight-infested building. Indranil, Rain, Drago, and Newt move off the street and take positions among the fallen vine covered marble blocks strewn about. Lorindel stealthily approaches the building and then sees, just within the main entrance, the red glimmer of the eyes of one of the wights. He backs off across the street and fires towards the glimmer. The arrow strikes true and the wight howls and leaps out of the door towards Lorindel. The second wight also comes rushing out of the building, Lorindel turns to run but is not quite fast enough. He feels the claws of the first tearing into his back and sucking away his life force. Fortunately he is able to pull away from it and sprint down the street, but the two wights are right on his heels. As fast as they are, Lorindel is faster and he soon opens a distance between himself and the ravenous undead. He leaps over the rope, but unfortunately the wights leap in time as well. As they do, Indranil and the others fire upon them. Rain misses her first shot, but Indranil and Newt’s arrows both hit the foremost wight. It doesn’t seem to bother it much. Drago shouts “Disrompu nemortajhon!” as Aramek taught him and a thin ray of light shoots forth from his extended claw but misses.

The wights stop and turn to the ambushers, they leap onto the rubble and begin scrambling up towards their attackers. Indranil fires again and though his second arrow also hits the first wight in the chest it doesn’t bother the creature at all. Rain’s second shot hits the other wight, but it doesn’t slow it down a bit, though it does hiss in anger as it plucks the shaft out and throws it aside. Newt scrambles back away from them and fires again, hitting the same one that she hit before and that indranil has already hit twice, but even this fourth arrow doesn’t seem to do anything more than anger it. Lorindel, seeing that the wights have stopped their pursuit, turns back and fires at the first. To his dimay, the arrow sails past harmlessly.

Rain drops her bow and tries to roll past the second wight as it reaches out towards Drago, but the wight reaches out and rips into her with its bony claws, and like Lorindel before her she feels a portion of her life force sucked away by the undead abomination. She does at least get on the other side of it, and as it turns to fend off Drago she draws her sword and pierces it through the back of the skull. It falls, destroyed at last. Drago stumbles back and fires his magical ray a third ti me at the wight that is now menaching Indranil, and for a third time misses. Indranil, however, has already dropped his bow and drawn his sword. He hacks at the monstrosity in front of him and drives it down the mound of rubble. The wight hisses is frustration and tires to run, but Newt is ready for it. She fires her shortbow and her shaft pierces it in the head and it’s negative life force is extinguished at last.

“Next time we go against life force draining undead, I recommend using someone other than the person currently suffering from a drained life force as bait. Sound reasonable?” complains Lorindel through teeth clenched in pain.

Indranil replies, “Yes, brother, but you were the most qualified for the task. You are the fastest and you knew what to look for.”

Lorindel approaches the bodies of the wights drawing his axe. He proceeds to chop off the heads of both of them. Looking back at the others he says, “Hey, you never know. I want these things to stay dead.”

Indranil is breathing heavily at the end of the battle and as he surveys the scene seeing two dead wights and his friends all alive he begins to shake as the battle fever leaves his body. Then he gasps with shock upon seeing both his brother and Rain drawn and pale gray, bleeding from wounds inflicted by the wights. He mutters an oath under his breath, “bloody hell,” and walks over to his brother and lays his hand on his shoulder, “You are most brave brother leading them to us at great risk and you took another grievous wound. We shall pray all night for the gods favor for a full recovery.”

Turning to his friends he says, “You all fought well! We have beaten four massive adult alligators and now two undead wights. Our little band is mighty in deed. It could have gone much worse for us. Everyone did their part perfectly. I am proud of you all.”

“The good news is I think we might have found a safe house we can use. I suspect these two have lived here preying on the unsuspecting for some time and the other denizens of this city know about this house and avoid it. No one will come inside for fear of the wights and we will be undisturbed.”

“Let us carry their bodies back into the building they have been occupying and bury their carcass to maintain the illusion they still prey upon the area. Then let us fully search it. I understand wights like to collect treasure so we may find things worth keeping. This afternoon we will return to our forward base camp and carry our gear and provisions back here and make a new forward base camp inside the wight house.”

“Rain! Are you alright?” Newt knows this is a stupid question, but has to show concern anyway. “That was a frightful attack you finished it with! Now, how can I help you? You’ll forgive me if I say you look terrible.” Turning to the others, “Does anyone have anything which will improve their chances of recovery? A potion, or perhaps a spell?”

There is no response from anyone.

Unable to help Rain any more than helping her find a decent seat (useless, since Rain can do that for herself), Newt does a slow walk around the immediate area, scanning for any minds that may be watching, and again using any birds or beasts she detects to extend her own perception.

Newt looks inside the building the wights used as a home. As she approaches the door the odor hits her and she closes her nostrils to keep the vile scent out. Peeking inside she sees the filth the wights have created. “Indranil, are you sure we won’t catch our deaths of disease living in there? We’ve no cleric to cure us any time soon, and our injured may not heal well within this…” she pauses, at a loss for the right word, then ends with “…grave.”

Rain is pale and shaking, beads of sweat beginning to drip down her face. Though staunched for the most part, blood oozes from rips in her pants at the thigh from the grazing wound. Yet she returns a small smile to Newt “Ill be fine Newt, thanks.”

She walks over to Lorindel, placing her hand briefly on his shoulder “Nice pull of the wights Lorindel. Just as planned.”

As Newt approaches the wight’s previous lair she says harshly “Newt, step away from there! We don’t know for sure it is safe yet.”

Turning to Indranil she says “What next Indranil, we clear the house?”

“Aye, we need to clean up the street fast and get out of sight before we are seen. The sounds are surely to have drawn unwanted attention.”

Indranil quickly coils the two trip ropes, places one in his pack and hands the other to Lorindel. Then he takes a fallen branch and scrubs out the signs if battle.

When done he says, “Drago and Newt grab that wight. Lorindel and Rain grab that one.” Indranil picks up the two heads and walks toward the east entrance of the wight house, “follow me he says softly over his shoulder.”

He cautiously stops at the threshold to look inside. It is two stories (24′) tall and the entrances might once have been wooden doors but these have long since disintegrated from the hinges. Lorindel moves around the perimeter before taking a peek inside. There is nothing around the perimeter, no tracks or any other signs of habitation. The only other things around it are more ruins. The building looks as though it were set on fire ages ago. Peeking in through the entrances Lorindel sees that the interior is completely empty except for the bones and ash strewn all over the floor. If there was a second floor it also burned away in the fire.

Following Indranil inside where he drops the heads on the ground, Newt also drops the wight she is carrying roughly to the ground and Drago kicks its head around. Lorindel and Rain carry the second body.

Indranil and Lorindel find two tree branches to use as poles about 6′ in length and drive them in the ground just inside the open doorways in the shadows, impaling the wights bodies and heads upon them, like a scarecrow, so anyone passing by will think the wight still stand guard.

“Oh, that’s just gross!” thinks Newt as the “scarecrows” are erected. Aloud she says “Nice camouflage, Indranil.” Then adds in a mumble to herself, “Home sweet home,” as she settles in.

Rain takes a look at the dwarven corpse for anything distinguishable. “Hmmm… Indranil, I wonder if this guy came with the other dwarves you mentioned in the quarry. I agree, I would like to see if we can make our way down there to investigate. Looks like maybe these guys all came here together for some purpose I would like to discover.”

Drago follows Rain over to the dead dwarf and incants, “Magio rivelighu!” to see if any magic can be detected. First he scans the dwarf. Once finished there, he continues to methodically inspect the entire building with the spell for anything they might have missed.

There is nothing of any value or magic in this building.

Rain then looks around the building, seeing if any part of the upper structure can be accessed by climbing and be usable as a lookout with relative cover.

Indranil then speaks. “Friends, we have an interesting riddle to solve here. This a dwarf corpse is only a few weeks old. I saw three dwarven corpses down on a ledge in the quarry that were much older. Dwarves are known for their mining skills and have a nose for valuable ore and gems. It appears they have made regular trips into Thracia, not always to their benefit,” Indranil nudges the corpse with his toe. I would like to rope down to the quarry’s ledge and investigate those corpses for further clues to theri intentions. Lorindel are you up for belaying me on the climb? Rain, Drago and Newt you would be our guard.

“Rain any luck finding an easy path or climb to the roof? It would be nice to have a high point of vantage to survey the rest of the SW quadrant.”

After Rain’s evaluation she says “Indranil, I can make my way up to the roof and set a knotted rope for us. That would be a good lookout spot.”

The only clearing out they do is the semi-protected NW corner where they make camp. They collect enough debris to make a defensible berm around the corner and screens them from sight of the doorways. They leave the rest as-is so as not to disturb the look of the wight house to any passing observers.

They collect their gear and provisions to make a new camp in the wight house.

No Comments
Back to top