“I thank you Sir Fingol and Sir Indranil,” says Ulmar, “And all of you
for protecting my daughter Adelina, commonly called Newt, and I thank
you for your patience with her and ask you to please forgive her if
she ever had to mislead you. We taught her from an early age that she
must hide her true nature from others, lest it bring danger to her and
her family. For those who discover our nature have always either tried
to kill us, experiment on us, or control us so we could be used for
their own nefarious ends. You will understand more when I tell my
story.”

“My wife, Saeva, and I are originally from the Yeomanry League. We
grew up there outside the capital of Loftwick. My father was a freeman farmer and had even been elected on occasion as a representative to the Council of Common Grosspokesmen. Then, one day, our true nature was disovered by agents of the Scarlet Brotherhood. They tried to blackmail my father into becoming their agent, but when he refused and tried to reveal their plots he was killed. Fortunately, I discovered what was happening in time. I fled with my wife and daughter to Melkot, but they followed us even there. We finally lost them by entering the Hool Marshes. It was then that we stumbled upon these ruins. Newt remembers, though she was but a little girl at the time. Eventually we settled near the trading post of Cypress Hill and hoped that we would once more be left in peace and not forced to become anyone else’s agents or spies.”

“And what is that nature?” asks Adalwulf a bit impatiently.

“This!” says Ulmar as his skin ripples and transforms from that of a
human to that of gaunt, gray-skinned humanoid with long, gangly limbs
and a bulbous head with large, octopoid eyes. Its face is otherwise
blank and featureless. Ulmar then changes back into his human form.
“We are known as Double-Goers, or Doppelgangers.”

Newt involuntarily cringes as Ulmar changes. She can’t help it–it’s
just such a gross change from what she was always taught.

“By the light of Pholtus!” exclaims Adalwulf, stepping back and
grasping for his silvery sun disk. “And you say you are not creatures
of Chaos!?”

“We are not,” Ulmar says evenly.

Fingol puts his hand on Father Adalwulff’s arm, “Peace, Father, let him continue.”

Rain’s only reaction is to move up and put her arm around Newt. She says to Adalwulf “Good Father, are not humans capable of both selfless kindness and unimaginable horrors? I have seen both myself many times over with my meager 17 years of life. Why is it not possible for other races to be as such? I don’t think I will have a gnoll best friend anytime soon, but certainly most if not all races are capable of escaping their predisposed nature.”

“In the end, like Sir Indranil has said, what are we but the sum of our actions. Given that, I stand firmly behind my friend Newt and thus her family. I would like to humbly suggest get to know them before entering a final judgment.”

Indranil grinds his teeth and his hand strays close to the pommel of his sword, but then he takes a deep breath and calms himself, he thinks of the Green Elysian Fields and his patron Ehlenestra. His features resume a calm detached manner as he relaxes. He will let this play out undisturbed for adding now would only inflame the situation.

“Good Father,” says Aramek, “I believe you have now known me and and Sir Fingol long enough to trust us and our honest intentions. While I cannot presume to speak for Sir Fingol, I can tell you that I have absolutely no reservations in my trust and admiration for Newt. And it’s certainly because of her parents that she’s become such a fine person.

“Please open your heart and hold your dogma at bay. By now you know that things are often not what they seem. In this case it happens to apply to a good situation. We would not have made it this far without Newt’s help.”

“I apologize, Goodman Ulmar. It is not the teaching of Pholtus to
prejudge anyone, though I must say that it is his teaching to beware
the forces of both Evil and Chaos. I’ll be silent until I have heard
all.”

Ulmar smiles and continues, “Thank you Father Adalwulf, and again I
thank you all for the trust and care you have given already to Newt
and I. As you know, the Amedi who served the Scarlet Brotherhood fled
into the Hool Marshes when King Skotti invaded. In the marshes they
found those Amedi who had already come to Thracia long ago and revived
the worship of the ancient god of death named Thanatos. Patriarch
Tavasmok recruited all the Amedi he could and sent them back out to
make war on all who would not bow down to Thanatos, whom they called
the Dark One. Eventually they raided Cypress Hill. Saeva and I were
visiting with Newt at the time they struck. We hid Newt away and then
took on the forms of the Deathwalkers. We were soon discovered for we
did not have the time to become anyone they knew. When they questioned
us they realized that our mastery of Amedi was not yet perfect. They
took us back to their base, a shrine in the depths of marshes. There
was a high ranking cleric there who had us sent back here to Thracia
to come before Patriarch Tavasmok. Tavasmok soon divined our nature
and like so many who learn our secret he wanted to use our abilities
against his enemies. He imprisoned Saeva in a storeroom in the villa
and bound her with wards that would be triggered by any Doppelganger
who crossed them. He then set his undead to guard her. With Saeva as
his hostage, I had no choice but to become his spy among the
beast-men. The Deathwalkers captured some gnolls and I used my talents
to discover his name and secrets, then I took on his form and the
Deathwalkers killed him and his companions. I went among the beast-men
but soon found a way to switch over to the lizardfolk, for they were
not the creatures of Chaos and Evil that the gnolls and minotaurs are.
However, as I told Drago earlier, I do believe that their leader,
Shaman G’ruk is indeed leading the lizardfolk down an evil path. In
any case, this morning I heard that in the palace of King Stronghoen,
the ruler of the beast-men who resides in the underground city of
Huvat Vex, there was a lizardman warrior who had come to Thracia with
Keolanders. I knew I must seek him out and discover if he or his
former companions knew anything about Cypress Hill and whether there
were any survivors, for I imagined they had come in response to that
raid or other attacks by the Deathwalkers. That is when I found Drago.
He was not exactly imprisoned in the chambers beneath the palace, but
in fact he had become a special “guest” of King Stronghoen and had
been placed under the watchful eye of King Stronghoen’s servants. I
visited Drago in the form of King Stronghoen’s major-domo, a
dog-brother named Bitterbark. Using Bitterbark’s form I was able to
speak with Drago and lead him out of the palace and back to the
surface. I already knew that the Keolander’s and dwarves from Melkot
had been found and trapped within the Deathwalker caverns. Drago had
told me already that Newt was with you all, so we hastened to see if
we could rescue you. Then we heard, through a chimney in the caverns,
Newt cry out when she fell. We grew more desperate, or I grew more
desperate to get into the caverns to save her. Perhaps I should let
Drago explain the rest. But I believe Newt was asked a question.”

“Oh, and I should tell you that after freeing Drago, he and I also
freed a Deathwalker who had been condemned to death and was to be
roasted alive in the palace. We freed him because we did not wish to
leave him to such a horrific death, but also we needed to send someone to the villa to warn them that King Stronghoen was intent on gathering all the local gnoll tribes to sweep away all the Deathwalkers. I hope I did not make a mistake, but I judged that if the villa was overrun then Saeva would also be killed. I am sure Drago has more to say about this because he was in the throne room when King Stronghoen gave his order. But I believe Newt would like to ask a question.”

Newt nods (thinking ‘Ah! Now I see. I had wondered how that happened.’) as Ulmar describes how they were discovered.

Father Adulwulf says, “I apologize, Goodman Ulmar. It is not the teaching of Pholtus to prejudge anyone, though I must say that it is his teaching to beware the forces of both Evil and Chaos. I’ll be silent until I have heard all.”

Ulmar smiles and continues, “Thank you Father Adalwulf, and again I
thank you all for the trust and care you have given already to Newt
and I. As you know, the Amedi who served the Scarlet Brotherhood fled into the Hool Marshes when King Skotti invaded. In the marshes they found those Amedi who had already come to Thracia long ago and revived the worship of the ancient god of death named Thanatos. Patriarch Tavasmok recruited all the Amedi he could and sent them back out to make war on all who would not bow down to Thanatos, whom they called the Dark One. Eventually they raided Cypress Hill. Saeva and I were visiting with Newt at the time they struck. We hid Newt away and then took on the forms of the Deathwalkers. We were soon discovered for we did not have the time to become anyone they knew. When they questioned us they realized that our mastery of Amedi was not yet perfect. They took us back to their base, a shrine in the depths of marshes. There was a high ranking cleric there who had us sent back here to Thracia to come before Patriarch Tavasmok. Tavasmok soon divined our nature and like so many who learn our secret he wanted to use our abilities against his enemies. He imprisoned Saeva in a storeroom in the villa and bound her with wards that would be triggered by any Doppelganger who crossed them. He then set his undead to guard her. With Saeva as his hostage, I had no choice but to become his spy among the beast-men. The Deathwalkers captured some gnolls and I used my talents to discover his name and secrets, then I took on his form and the Deathwalkers killed him and his companions. I went among the beast-men but soon found a way to switch over to the lizardfolk, for they were not the creatures of Chaos and Evil that the gnolls and minotaurs are.
However, as I told Drago earlier, I do believe that their leader,
Shaman G’ruk is indeed leading the lizardfolk down an evil path. In
any case, this morning I heard that in the palace of King Stronghoen,
the ruler of the beast-men who resides in the underground city of
Huvat Vex, there was a lizardman warrior who had come to Thracia with Keolanders. I knew I must seek him out and discover if he or his
former companions knew anything about Cypress Hill and whether there were any survivors, for I imagined they had come in response to that raid or other attacks by the Deathwalkers. That is when I found Drago. He was not exactly imprisoned in the chambers beneath the palace, but in fact he had become a special “guest” of King Stronghoen and had been placed under the watchful eye of King Stronghoen’s servants. I visited Drago in the form of King Stronghoen’s major-domo, a dog-brother named Bitterbark. Using Bitterbark’s form I was able to speak with Drago and lead him out of the palace and back to the surface. I already knew that the Keolander’s and dwarves from Melkot had been found and trapped within the Deathwalker caverns. Drago had told me already that Newt was with you all, so we hastened to see if we could rescue you. Then we heard, through a chimney in the caverns, Newt cry out when she fell. We grew more desperate, or I grew more desperate to get into the caverns to save her. Perhaps I should let Drago explain the rest. But I believe Newt was asked a question.”

Newt says, “Well, I was listening to G’ruk, the chief and shaman to
the rogue Malarat. When he heard Drago had made friends with King
Stronghoen (I don’t think G’ruk knew the whole situation), he took
three warriors with him saying they would find and awaken the Immortal King. I got the impression this might be some reptilian deity. I also got the impression that G’ruk thinks this Immortal King will be on his side and will sweep all his enemies out of his way.

“Drago, I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this, but you later said
we didn’t need to go after G’ruk right then. Of course, Indranil might
have needed help at the time, but otherwise why did you say that?”

Twilight, Readying 20, 591

Newt, with Drago in tow, swims back into view of Fingol and the others
as they are contemplating how to cross the river.

Drago sees that they are on the opposite bank of the lizardfolk
enclave. The bonfire lights up the area dimly or not at all on this
bank of the river. The lizardfolk are cowering behind their hide tents
on the others side and he sees at least three dead lizardfolk with
arrows in them and many javelins stuck in the sand on this side.

For their part, Fingol, Lorindel, Rain, and Aramek see that Drago no
longer has his bandolier but is bearing a finely made sword and a
shield decorated with silver and platinum tracery along with inlaid
carnelians.

Now in the better light, Drago sees that Newt has a greenish tinge to her hair and a bluish tint to her complexion, pointed ears, webbed hands and feet (she must have slipped off her boots), almond eyes and more angular features.

“Drago!” Fingol gasps “Newt had said she heard you were about, but I never really expected to see you alive. When Sir Indranil banished you, I thought Thracia would be your undoing. Instead, you seem to have profited.”

“Look what followed me home! Can I keep him?” jokes Newt as she approaches Fingol and the others.

Speaking quickly, with great excitement, Newt spits out the following with scarecely a breath taken one she starts. “There’s a bridge downstream, but there’s a crabby albino giant on it. Ten feet tall and he doesn’t like all the noise we’re making.

“Indranil is up above us with Aatu, and they have my father with them! But they are under attack by giant bats. They’ve slain one–big as an ox. I’m not kidding–but probably need our help.

“Drago may know more about this Immortal King, but he says we don’t have to chase down G’ruk right now.” Finally she takes a breath.

Drago nods while Newt speaks, admiring her colorful form.

Then he bows deeply to Fingol and the others in fellowship, “Don’t give up hope yet. The night is young. By returning to you, I have become Enemy #1 to your enemies. It would seem that only Sir Indranil no longer wants me dead. We have made our peace.”

Fingol listens to all this breathless whirlwind, “Well, what do we need to do right now? It sounds like Sir Indranil could use some help. Can you show us the way, and we’ll save the conversation until he… and the dwarves are safe?”

When Aramek sees Drago he breaks into a big grin and says, “By all the gods and goddesses, I am very happy to see you alive.! Welcome back!” And even Snoop, picking up on his friends joy, squeaks happily.

Offering a deep bow, Drago replies simply, “Greetings, Master.”

Rain smiles big and puts her arm around Drago’s scaly shoulder and says simply “It is so good to see you”.

Lorindel approaches Drago and clasps him in a firm handshake and offers a quick nod to welcome him back.

“Then someone lead us back to him,” Fin pleads, “so that we can all be reunited.”

“Yes, let’s go get Indranil so we are at full strength.”

Newt replies, “I’ve been worried for the dwarves, too.

“I don’t know the way up. Drago, how can we get back up there?”

Looking to Newt, Drago replies, “I only know the way through the lizardfolk camp, but that is too dangerous and would take too long. It would probably be best to have everyone float down river (to avoid the darkmantles) and then climb the rope you described. Can we miss the giant that way?”

“The rope is upstream, but the climb up will be very challenging. We’d have to climb hand over hand as there is no wall to brace against.”

“If we have to cross the river, than Rain had a good plan. Is that the way you know Drago?”

Drago says to everyone, “Gather around. Here’s what we face.” He then draws the tunnels as he remembers them. “If we cross the river here at the lizardfolk camp, we will have to fight the lizards directly and then pass through a room guarded by gnolls. I know the password but they have probably changed it by now, and besides they would see you and then we would be trapped like mice on two sides. There are more gnolls stationed in the temple. I don’t know how many, but that is the entrance to Huvat Vex, so probably there are quite a few. Anyway, we don’t need to go that way. Instead we head up the long stairway, turn right, and head out. There is another gnoll guard post along the way, but we don’t have to go through that room, although they will probably see us. There will be more gnoll guards at the entrance to the surface too.

“This path would be very dangerous, but I have another idea. Newt saw G’ruk enter a secret door in the cliff next to the river in the Deathwalker Cavern. If I am not mistaken, that should come out somewhere along the west wall here. If we are lucky, we will be able to avoid the first gnoll guard post completely and avoid detection until we are almost out. The choice is yours.” Drago looks around at the others.

“I like the idea of using the secret door, though, but we still need to get everyone across the river. What was Rain’s idea for that? I missed it.”

Rain says “Um Drago… where is Indranil?”

“Yes!” Fin jumps in “We can’t leave without him.”

Last I saw, Indranil still hadn’t crossed the first bridge. So if you have no other plan on how to escape, once we get out, we may still have to battle gnolls, minotaurs, lizards, and the Deathwalker army as we cross back to the Deathwalker Cavern and try to get back in the locked door which is guarded by the dwarves and Father Adulwulf.” Drago shrugs. “No problemo, Newt’s father and I did it.” Drago smiles again.

Speaking of, the fellowship then hears faintly, echoing from above and downstream: “Aatu with me! Attack!” Indranil shouts.

A little while later, even fainter, you hear Indranil shout the following as a battle cry, “Vandria!”

Then you hear, also faint, the sound of Adalwulf intoning, “Om!”

And of course the far-off clash of arms that must be coming from one of the tunnels leading into the chasm, perhaps the one connected to the stairs up to the chamber the dwarves for holding.

Frustrated, Fin replies, “I don’t follow you at all. What locked door are you referring to? None of your explanations explain anything. If you know how to get to Indranil, please say so plainly. Tell us if we need to cross the river or not. Tell us if we have to climb up to the ground level or not. Tell us what direction we need to go to do any of those things!”

Drago pauses and looks at Fin, “No, I don’t know how to get to Indranil, except through the lizardfolk camp and three growing armies that want to kill us. The locked door I referred to is the entrance to the building above the Deathwalker Cavern. At least that’s what the locals it. You sent Adalwulf back to help guard it. When one enters the building, you go down stairs. Then there are two bridges, one that crosses the chasm and the other goes off to the right where you have not yet explored, off the center of the first bridge. I was on the bridge to the right fighting a Deathwalker when the giant bats attacked me, causing the bridge to break. It is now hanging 20′ from the ground, if we can get to it to climb up. Indranil and the others have not yet crossed either bridge, last I saw.”

Rain says “It sounds like our options are to climb back up the rope we just climbed down, or to follow this river southwest and around the corner to some unknown location to try and reach Indi that way.”

Drago nods and says, “Yes, that’s the other option. Newt, do you have anything to add?”

“So Drago, is there a way to get back up to where Indi and the others are if we continue downstream in the river?”

Drago shrugs, “I don’t know. Only Newt knows that. Newt?”

“I don’t think climbing the rope is an option for me,” says Lorindel. “I’d never make it to the top, or at least have a difficult time doing so. I think the best bet is to get to where the bridge has fallen. It’s a shorter climb to reach what now appears to be a rope ladder.”

Drago nods and says, “We’ll be climbing with Deathwalkers shooting arrows at us and an ox sized bat swooping down on us.”

“I do more before ’9 bells’ than most people do in an entire day,” says Lorindel with a smirk.

“OK,” Fin jumps in, “If I am following all this, our situation is this. Climbing up the rope would put us up on Indranil’s level, but the rope bridges are down. So while we’d be at the right elevation, we’d be on the wrong side of a chasm. So I’m ruling out the rope.

“We need to go downstream and try to make it to that broken rope bridge. However, I am not sure we should climb up it. Instead, we should have him climb down and we’ll all go after G’ruk. Evidently he’s close and Newt says the lizardfolk were talking about him reviving the Immortal King. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds bad. And it may be what the Great Druidess warned us about. I don’t want to leave that to chance.”

“We’ll have to bypass the darkmantles, if that is what attacked me earlier, by making torches. I am sure they won’t like the taste of those. If we can’t, we’ll go through with our weapons held up. They won’t like the taste of those either. I wouldn’t mind seeing one spear itself on the point of my sword.”

Drago shrugs, “Torches are what attracted the giant bats in the first place. Also the lizardfolk won’t walk along the banks of this river because of the darkmantles. If that is your choice, Newt and I will swim along beside you guys where it is safe. Other than that, your plan is okay… but my vote would be to let G’ruk awaken the Immortal King, if he knows where he is, which I seriously doubt. If I am right, Shaman G’ruk and King Stronghoen will be killed and I will pacify the awaken one and… well… I bet my life on it. This is my destiny. The wave of death sweeping across the land will not be the Immortal King. It is the army of beast-men bent upon humanity’s destruction that you should fear. This is why I returned to you. When we have more time, I can tell you the full story.

“If we can’t use torches, then we will hold up weapons as we pass under the darkmantles.” Fin replies “Let’s get going, we’ve spent enough time here.”

Drago nods, silently assenting to the plan and then straps his gear to his back. When he sees that Aramek only has a staff, Drago offers, “Master, you may borrow my new magic sword if you wish. It will be more effective to protect yourself.”

Aramek nods, “Thank you for the offer, my friend, but I know my limits and close in fighting is not my forte. Not even being seen till it’s too late is much more my style.” And Aramek gives a devilish grin. “Besides, you’ll certainly have more need and use for it than I.”

Aramek looks at Fingol. “Sir, Fingol, since my quarterstaff and crossbow will not be very intimidating to the darkmantles, I believe this might be an appropriate time for me to go invisible. What say you?”

“Whatever you think best.” Fingol replies.

“Very well, whenever we begin to run the darkmantle gauntlet, Snoop will duck inside my cloak and I’ll go invisible. Just say the word.”

Drago adds, “Wherever you see stalactites, there are likely darkmantles. They look the same.”

Newt puts her boots in her pack, sure to need them later.

“Sir Fingol,” asks Newt “have you got a grappling hook in that bag of yours? You seem to have everything esle… Anyway, perhaps we could knot a rope (or even make a series of loops), attach it to the hook, then catch that rope bridge that’s dangling. We then climb the rope to the bridge and the bridge up the rest of the way.

Fin replies, “I sure do. Picked it up from the assassins that attacked Prince Prospero. And that is exactly how I intend to get up that rope bridge.”

Just as everyone prepares to make their way, carefully, around the
bend of the river, a voice calls down from the stone bridge overhead.
“Newt! Are you down there!” It is the voice of Ulmar, Newt’s father.

“I’m here! Yes, I’m here!” Newt shouts back joyfully (but without thinking). “Are you okay Father? I can’t see you. We’re trying to get up to your level!”

“Thank the gods you’re alive! Can you climb back up? Where are your
companions? We’re having some problems with the Deathwalkers up here,
but I’m okay at the moment. At least, no one is shooting at me. Hold
on, I’ll come down there.”

Quicker than you would have thought possible, Ulmar clambers down the rope, and all present see that he is a rather large chimpanzee with a shield and short bow slung on his back, a quiver of arrows at his side, and a lizardfolk spiked war club tucked in his belt. He is otherwise dressed only in a lizardfolk loincloth. Then the ape man runs and embraces his sea-elf daughter.

“On any other day, that would seem strange.” Fingol states flatly.

“Ulmar, it is good to see you again!” joins Drago as he smiles happily at their reunion.

Rain smiles but then says “Fin, we really need to get going…”

“Agreed! Sir, it is wonderful you are well. But we are dearly pressed for time. We need to head downstream to our friend. To get through, we have to either swim or hike through an area with monsters that drop from the cave ceiling. Follow us, please.”

Ulmar transforms himself into an aquatic elf and then dives into the river with Newt and Drago. “I’ll chance the river if you don’t mind,” he says to Fingol.

Newt, Drago, and Ulmar begin swimming downriver. As the others begin to enter the darkmantle field, it all goes black as magical darkness descends on the area. Only those with darkvision can see through it.

Once the torches are made and the Dancing Lights spell is cast, Fingol
and the others attempt to move into the field, but they find that the
darkness swallows up Aramek’s dancing lights, and the everburning
torchesonly produce a dim light, though that is enough to allow Fingol
(whose magically enhanced vision is still operative), Aramek, and
Lorindel to see.

Fingol and Lorindel peer into the shadows and up among the stalactites
they see the glimmer of the darkmantle’s red eyes watching them. The
darkmantles appear to be two to four feet long and their camouflaged
hide allows them to blend in with the stalactites they are wrapped
around.

Rain says, “This is stupid! Let’s just run past them already!”

Fingol and Lorindel point them out to Aramek and Rain, the latter
though still can’t see them as it is too dark for her.

Rain says, “This is stupid! Let’s just run past them already!”

Fingol explains, “Now that we can see them, we can shoot them down.
Here, Rain, hold this torch.”

Fingol and Lorindel with their bows, and Aramek with his wand of magic
missiles, then proceed to pick off the darkmantles as they move slowly
through the field of stalatctites and stalacmites, while Rain lights
their way.

Drago is swimming under water with father and daughter, oblivious to what’s happening with the land dwellers. His thoughts are with Newt and Ulmar. By now they have exchanged their stories…. Drago wants to show Newt everything, but not until after he gets to tell his side first. Drago puts up a mental wall against any deep probe until then.

Lorindel picks one off immediately with one well-aimed shot. Fingol
hits another, and then Aramek uses his wand of magic missiles to
strike it as well. Newt and Ulmar come to the edge of the river and
fire their bows at it as well, as does Drago who can now see it in the
dim torchlight once everyone else has begun firing at it. One more
arrow from Fingol brings it down as well. A third falls dead due to
another well placed arrow by Lorindel. Aramek fires another magic
missile at a fourth, and Newt, Ulmar, and Drago loose their arrow at
it as well bringing it down too. Then four of the creatures all drop
away from the stalactites and propel themselves towards those on the
ground using their webbed tentacles like wings. The others dodge, but
Fingol and Aramek are struck and the darkmantles embrace their heads
and shoulders with their hook lined tentacles, using their
considerable strength to constrict about their throats. Fingol
succeeds in tearing the darkmantle off of him, though it leaves bloody
wounds all over his face and neck. Rain drops her torches, draws her
blades, and runs the creature through before it can flap away.
Lorindel, meanwhile, drops his bow and unsheathing his shortsword move in on Aramek and deftly cuts the creature away. It falls dead to the floor. Chittering, the other two fly away off into the darkness of the other side of the river.

Snoop, who had been secure inside Aramek’s cloak furiously, but unsuccessfully, tried to get out so he could he help his fried fight the evil beast attacking him. Once the creature was killed Snoop was out on Aramek’s shoulder alternately licking his wounds and shrieking at the evil fling things.

Aramek thanks Lorindel profusely and then, knowing he’s been injured, pulls out a healing potion.

The river runs on for some distance past the bend in the river. The
gravelly banks continue on both sides. Past the stalactites and
stalacmites is a run down cottage constructed of fieldstone and roofed
with straw thatch. The thatch is moldy and rotting due to the high
humidity caused by the river. The floor of the cavern in this area is
covered with sand. Thrust into the sand in front of the cottage is a
crude spear. Mounted on the protruding spear is a bleached skull of a
lizardman. Various crude and arcane symbols are painted on the brow of the skull. A little ways past that, in the light of the everburning
torches, they can see the end of the rope bridge dangling 20’ over the
river.

From the darkness above, they can hear Indranil shouting down to them, “Drago! Drago! Drago, can you hear me?” An everburning torch on the end of a rop is then lowered down to the river.

“Indranil, it’s me,” calls Lorindel. “Drago is with us. Oh, by the way, pleased to see that you’re not dead.”

“Shut up!” booms a gloomy and very put upon sounding person from the darkness downriver.

Fingol turns to Aramek, “Can you cast Message to him and tell him we are on our way up? I don’t care to yell around here. Someone dislikes the noise.”

Indranil can lower the rope about 40′. He can see that 50′ below the lip of the chasm is an underground river with sandy banks on either side. There seems to be some kind of cottage down there on the bank. Standing nearby is Fingol, Rain, Lorindel, and Aramek. Swimming in the river is Newt, Ulmar (her father who must have found the way down after crossing the chasm), and Drago (who indeed survived being hit with with an arrow, feasted on by two giant bats, and the collapse of the rope bridge and a 50′ fall).

Whispering, Newt suggests “Maybe Sir Indranil can lower a rope, if the grappling hook doesn’t work out.”

She keeps an eye down-river, in case the noise-averse giant should try taking an active role in quieting the neighborhood.

Indranil says, “Well met indeed! And Newt is with you safe! And Drago too! By the Goddesses this is god news. The top is secure for now but I can’t say for how long. It looks like the gnolls and rogue Malarat are now allied. Perhaps you can climb up using this rope or the bridge that has fallen?”

Fingol looks up “Hush! Someone down here doesn’t like noise! We’ll be up in a few.”

Drago casts his message spell and replies to Indranil, “Yes, I am safe, milord. Newt saved me from drowning.”

Fingol looks up from his knot tying, “A Malarat drowning? How embarrassing.”

“I don’t think his soul would survive the embarrassment. That’s why I pulled him out” jokes Newt.

Indranil while he waits upon his friends to climb up draws his rope and torch back up and then stows them in his pack.

He turns to Grim and says, “Grim the fellowship has returned and they are all alive, including Drago who took that horrible fall. They are climbing back up now.”

Indranil replying back through the message spell says, “Drago! I am relieved. When you fell from the bridge with an arrow in your side I was distraught thinking how tragic it was that after finding you I lost you again so soon. I am pleased!” Then with a smile in his reply he continues, “Newt has pulled your tail out of a tight situation twice now! She is truly your guardian angel.”

Dago replies simply. “Yes, indeed, yes, indeed.”

Fingol hooks the fallen bridge and everyone climbs the knotted rope up to the fallen rope bridge and then makes it up to the regular rope bridge and back to the stairwell to the surface side of the rope bridge that is still handing across the chasm.

Newt and Drago just have a bit of stiffness and some light bruises, Adawulf and Fingol are hurting, but Indranil is really hurting (and he’s already been healed several times over by Adalwulf during the fight, so you just guess how much damage he’s taken in the past half hour or so.)

Newt leaves the potions to those who really need them. If there are any left at distribution then she may carry one or two in case Drago needs them again.

Drago says, “I’ll take a few, if you have any extra healing potions. I’m out.”

Kneeling before Fingol, Indranil draws his sword and offering it to Fingol pommel up says, “Sir Fingol something must be said immediately. I acknowledge you as rightful leader of this party without hesitation or reserve and pledge to follow you until death or you release me.”

Fingol coughs, “You have pledged your fealty to the Lion Throne and you serve at the pleasure of Prince Prospero. Swear nothing which takes that which is rightfully theirs. I thank you for acknowledging that this command now rests with me. And while we serve together know that I will protect you with my life also.”

Indranil sheathes his sword and stands giving Fingol another bow. “Sir Fingol, Father Adalwulf is upstairs in the room above. The Deathwalker replacement squad, including the two hooded clerics, were slain by Grim, his warriors, Father Adalwulf and I just before we found each other again. For now things above are quiet. But the gnolls and an unknown band of Malarat are allied and twice now have sought to gain control of the building above and this passage. They were twice driven off by the Deathwalker replacement squad, but with Deathwalkers slain they could reappear and threaten us again at anytime. I know not the disposition of the remaining Deathwalkers but it looks like we have killed two full squads of them between us.”

Fingol reaches out to shake Sir Indranil’s hand “Thank you for coming back to rescue us. For it would appear that is what you’ve done. Let’s get outside before any other band of gods-know-what attack again. I don’t think we need to be in these caverns any longer; we have been rescued and Ulmer found us. That is all we were hoping for here. And Drago has a piece to these mysteries that I would like to hear in length. Depending on what he has to say, we may have more work to do before we rescue the damsel in distress and ride off into the sunset. The world may require more competent heroes than us, but we’re the only ones in shouting distance.”

Newt recalls that Drago had wanted to show something but had stopped. When the fellowship is clear of the darkmantles and back in normal marching order she puts her hand on his shoulder (‘There’s the tough skin again. I remember having skin like that!’ she thinks.) and says just to him “Drago, is now a good time? Did you want to say anything?” She puts a bit of emphasis on the word “say,” to be clear in her meaning.

Drago says simply to the other, “Yes, if you all still want to fight, you need to hear my tale, so that you are not basing your actions upon half truths. I have been your spy in the Underworld living amongst the lizardfolk, and then today spent the day in Huvat Vex. You need to hear my tale. It will only take a few minutes for the most important tactical information. Otherwise, let’s go back to your camp and tell our stories before making decisions.”

“Will you show me now?” asks Newt. “Or tell us. If we follow this up quickly we may surprise the villa and rescue my mother. However, I know much of the decision will depend on how many spells you, Sir Aramek and Father Adalwulf can cast in what’s left of the day.”

Drago replies, “I need to rest to replenish. I am not battle ready. It’s been a long, long day.

As Fingol finishes Newt throws a huge hug around Sir Indranil. “You came back! I’m so happy you did! Thank you thank you thank you! It wasn’t the same without you.” She releases him and drops to her feet, perhaps a bit embarrassed by her display, but too happy to see him to really care about being embarrassed.

Indranil smiles warmly and bending down he kisses the top of Newt’s head and says, “Do not be embarrassed Adelina, I am grateful for your welcome. I too missed you. The goddesses saved me, but it was a narrow thing, I was far gone down the path to darkness. But that tale must wait for fairer times.”

Rain too has a warm smile for Indranil but does not say anything now, the current situation warranting quick action.

“Fingol, we still need to keep in mind the powerful Cleric which we have to assume stile resides in the villa. With most of his warriors dead I am not sure our plan of drawing him out will work now.”

Fingol starts moving toward the exit. “On the contrary, I am hoping that the losses he’s suffered is what does draw him out. After all, he must be running out of minions to waste. And he is going to have to find out what is happening to them all. Given he so easily defeated a gnoll army before, I am sure he’s too arrogant to hide in his Villa. And if what I am hearing about gnoll and Malarat attacks to this building are true, we shouldn’t have to worry about making it look like a gnoll attack. It is one in truth. So let’s just get out of these caverns so we don’t get bottled up again and pull away to a safe distance. We’ll discuss our next moves there.”

“Let’s move then” says Newt. “I think our ambush targets came to us when we were a bit late setting up. We should go somewhere safer and rethink things.

After you, Sir Fingol.”

Rain says “The fight seems to be between the Gnoll/Lizards and Deathwalkers… I would suggest the Arena. We will have the best view and most likely will not be scouted or attacked since they are busy with each other.”

I was thinking of the area of the city indicated on the city map as “fragmented walls/buildings” between the pool and the rotunda. Depending on where exactly we go, it might have a view of both buildings (or neither?).

I’d love to use the rotunda, but I’m SURE there is something nasty living in it.

Rain replies “What if there is something else living there which may take offense to us being there. It may draw attention. Best I think to use a known location. Your call, lets just get going quick.”

“Thank you Lady Rain, I was unaware of what you had and had not scouted while I was in Melkot.” Fingol replies. “The arena it is. We’ll still be close enough to capitalize on any movements the high priest makes.”

“No, I would like you, Sir Indranil, Adelina, Ulmar, Sirs Indranil and Aramek, Father Adalwulf, Drago, Grim and Morgrym to accompany me up to where we can observe the city and confer on our next steps.” Fingol replies

Once every one is up at a point where we can see the Villa, Fingol begins “I know everyone is eager to rest and regroup. But there may be events going on tonight that require swift action.

If the High Priest of these Deathwalkers comes out of the villa to see who destroyed his caverns, that would be our chance to try to free Adelina’s mother. And as much as I would like to make that our first priority, I heard something from Adelina about an Immortal King being awakened. Adelina, tell us what you heard, please. We may have to move immediately if that is some sort of threat.”

In between the hasty planning discussion Indranil slips over to Lorindel and clasps forearms in a warriors handshake saying, “Brother you are a welcome sight. I am pleased to see you alive and well. I have much to tell you. I was visited by the Goddess and taken back to revisit a distant memory with you.”

Before Newt can respond, Adalwulf steps forward and says, “Hold! I
have kept silent until now, because we were in grave danger. But I
would know what manner of beings this Ulmar and his daughter Adelina
actually are? I saw with my own eyes how this one,” he points to
Ulmar, “had been transformed into an ape and then changed back again.
And this one,” he points to Newt who had neglected to change back into
her human form, “is now some kind elf. Are you sorcerers then like Sir
Aramek? Or something else? I do not believe you Evil, but are you…
creatures of Chaos?”

The dwarves nod at this and Grim says, “I would also like to know, for
we saw Drago and Ulmar both change themselves.”

Ulmar says, “Sir Fingol, with your permission, I will endeavor to
explain, for you are all honorable men and woman, that I can see. I
think you deserve the truth, for you have risked your lives many times
now to save ours.”

Fingol nods, “I apologize to our friends for not being forthcoming. My omission was intended to protect your daughter, who kept her secrets a long time before explaining herself. She is a fine person. I think it speaks well of your nature, and that of your wife’s, that you raised such a good person.”

“Please do explain your natures to our friends. For I’m afraid I cannot. And I am not sure if any explanation wouldn’t simply spawn more questions. For my part, I know Adelina can be trusted, more than just that actually, and I am content with that.”

“Well said Cousin. We are known by our deeds not fine words. Adelina has proven herself a loyal companion ten times over.”

Twilight, Readying 20, 591

Indranil responds to Drago’s forgiveness, “Bless you, Drago. I can see you have accomplished much good on your own. I look forward to leisure time to hear your full story, but you’re right. From what little I saw on the way, we are in great danger! We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Standing and looking at Grim, Indranil says, “Grim, well met! Can you lead us to the rest of the fellowship? We’re about to be overrun. There is no sense remaining here. Gather your rear-guard warriors and come with us.”

“Drago, can you lay some trap on this door to activate as a nasty surprise when opened? Also, do you have any healing left? Aatu is near death.”

Drago replies, “A trap? I am no rogue. And I am almost out of healing potions. Don’t you have a cleric nearby?”

Indranil replies, “I have no idea where the rest of the fellowship is. Never mind. Let us hurry.”

“Did someone call for a cleric?” asks Adalwulf as he charges up the stairs, with Morgrym and six other dwarves behind him. As he emerges he sees Grim and the three dwarves who had been left to guard the building, and also Indranil, Drago, and Ulmar. “Indranil, you’ve returned! And who are these with you?”

“I was wondering that myself,” mutters Grim, “but they seem to be old friends or something…”

“Never mind that, introductions later,” says Adalwulf. “Newt has fallen into some underground river at the bottom of a chasm and the others are trying to rescue here. Actually they’re all heading down there to join here. She says that some shaman is trying to awaken an Immortal King. Fingol sent us back here to reinforce you so you won’t be overrun. I also have healing potions and my own spells, it looks like you and Aatu will need them.”

Adalwfulf lays aside his shield and staff and takes up his silvery sun disk. He reaches out to lay his hands upon the wound and calls upon the healing light of Pholtus. The wound completely closes. Aatu happily licks Adalwulf’s hand in wolfish gratitude.

Adalwulf pulls a potion from his pack and hands it to Indranil. “We liberated this from the Deathwalker’s down below. Many of them carry potent healing potions with them. I only have one other though, so this will have to do for now.” Indranil drinks it and within moments his wounds have all healed except for a bit of bruising and stiffness.

Adalwulf says, “I can help the dwarves up here, there’s no way I can make it down the chasm. Go down and save her and the others. We can have formal introductions later. If they take this building, the dwarves and I will retreat and hold them at the stairwell. If we have to we will cut the rope bridges below. Have no fear. They won’t overrun us.”

Grim and Morgrym nod in unison. Morgrym says, “He’s right, Indranil, get down there and help them. Hilric! Take them to the stone bridge.”

“Yes sir!” says one of the dwarves who came up with Morgrym and Adalwulf.

As they head down into the Deathwalkers Cavern, Drago says to Ulmar, “Can you sense her yet?”

Ulmar shakes his head, “No, we must be within 60’ of each other to pick up thoughts or the signals of other Doppelgangers. I must confess, I thought all of Adelina’s companions knew of her nature, I did not realize the dwarves and that priest of Pholtus were not included in the secret. I thank you all for your discretion and am ashamed that I made such a hasty assumption.” He shrugs, “No help for it now, and I am more worried about Newt than about discretion.”

Hilric leads Indranil, Drago, and Ulmar down a long dark stairway. Before long, Indranil and Drago find themselves stumbling and having to reach out to the wall. Hilric and Ulmar have no trouble in the pitch black however, and at the bottom of the stairwell they come to a passage that heads off to their left for about 15’ before coming to a chasm. The chasm is crossed by rope bridges which are dimly lit by everburning torches set in the walls of tunnels on the far side of the chasm straight ahead and to their right. Just around the corner from the bottom of the stairwell another dead Deathwalker lies in a pool of his own blood.

“Be wary,” says Hilric. We cleared some of the rooms before Newt fell, but not all of them, and none of the passages to the right.”

Indranil calls out, “Drago would you follow Hilric? Aatu will go next and I will bring up the rear after you all have crossed.” Indranil, while waiting for his turn removes his Ever-Burning torch from his pack, reslinging his pack and stowing all his weapons he raises the torch high to help provide light for the rest of the movement.

Drago slings his shield and sword across his back, using both hands to hold the rope handrail. Looking down, Drago says to Indranil as they cross, “That may look deep but this is only the first level. Huvat Vex is far below and we just came from beneath that, perhaps from the very lowest levels.” After a brief pause, Drago continues, almost to himself. “Why is Newt talking about G’ruk and the Immortal King? Oh, crap. that means there are lizardfolk down there. We must hurry! They will kill her.”

As Hilric leads Drago, Ulmar, Aatu, and Indranil across the rope bridge a Deathwalker warrior appears in the tunnel to their left and looses an arrow at the dwarf. The arrow skitters off his scale mail.

At the same time, two huge shadowy forms detach themselves from the stalactites 20’ or more above their heads and dive at Indranil whose torchlight alerted them to the possibility of food. Indranil has seen their like before in Westkeep. They are giant furry bats, each nearly the size of an ox, with dark leathery wings that open wider than two men with arms outstretched. They both miss Indranil but wheel around to dive again.

“Hurry,” Drago says to Hilric, “Let’s got off this bridge!”

Indranil jumps back off the bridge and drops the torch in the tunnel, and then smoothly draws his bow and nocks an arrow. He tracks the beasts and prepares to fire at the closest one. He also says, “Aatu! Come! Heel and Defend!”

Aatu and then Ulmar make it back to Indranil’s side. Hilric, dodging another arrow, races for the far side of the chasm and makes it to the safety of the tunnel at the other end. In the light of the everburning torch at the T-intersection behind him he can be seen getting out his crossbow and loading it.

Indranil jumps back off the bridge and drops the torch in the tunnel, and then smoothly draws his bow and nocks an arrow. He tracks the beasts and prepares to fire at the closest one. He also says, “Aatu! Come! Heel and Defend!”

Aatu and then Ulmar make it back to Indranil’s side. Hilric, dodging another arrow, races for the far side of the chasm and makes it to the safety of the tunnel at the other end. In the light of the everburning torch at the T-intersection behind him he can be seen getting out his crossbow and loading it.

The two bats dive at Drago who is the only one left on the bridge, he ducks from one but the other one clamps down on his shoulder and bites down before lifting off again. Drago has to clutch at one of the guardropes to keep from losing his balance.

Indranil lets fly an arrow at the bats and though it sinks into the thick furred hide of one, the bat doesn’t seem too disturbed by it. Hilric takes aim at the other bat and also hits, eliciting a high pitched squak of pain from it.

Ulmar rushes to the bottom of the stairwell to recover the shortbow on the corpse of the dead Deathwalker.

Drago decides to attack the bowman directly. He heads right, shield held high to protect himself from the bats. The other hand slides along the rope. He moves as fast as he can, trying not to fall off the bridge. On his way there Drago roars intimidatingly while imagining himself to be the Deathwalker’s worst nightmare, and unknowingly calls upon the draconic power of sorcery within his blood, although he can feel the strange new spell surge within him.

The Deathwalker’s eyes widen in fear and he gives way but still musters the nerve to fire another arrow at Drago. The arrow buries itself in Drago’s side as his shield was held overheard to ward off the bats. Drago stumbles back in shock just at the end of the bridge. Then both bats descend upon him, ripping into him with their sharp teeth. The weight of the bats is too much however, and the ropes that hold the bridge snap under their weight spilling them and Drago into the void. The bats flutter up to safety, but Drago is lost in the darkness below.

Drago has two healing potions on him, both unbroken. She uncorks one
and spills the contents into his mouth. He coughs and his eyes open,
but he is groggy.

Drago awakens with a cough as someone has poured something down his throat, but he can see nothing. His head is on someone’s lap, and he feels sand beneath his body. He hears the sound of a river flowing
nearby in the blackness.

He hears Newt speaking to him quietly and realizes that she is one
cradling his head in her lap. “Come on, Drago. Give me a sign. I need
you to tell me what’s going on up there! And we need to stop G’ruk!
How will you feel about that when you awake?”

Who would have thought it would sound so good to hear a friend cough and sputter? But Newt is glad of it now.

“Drago, it’s me, Newt. Here, drink this.” She gives him her CMW potion. As he drinks she continues. “There’s a lot to say, but not much time. G’ruk is out to get you. And how do you feel about the Immortal King? What do you know about him?” Newt scans Drago, hoping straight thought will work more quickly than verbal speech.

“Newt… Oh, Newt… I found Ulmar. Scan for your father,” is all Drago can manage to say through his delirium.

This news is so startling that Newt almost drops Drago as she jumps to her feet. But she stops and sets him down gently.

Standing, she tries to stretch her senses over the horizon and beyond, trying to find “Ulmar.”

“Drago!” says Newt, looking down at Drago while still scanning. Her voice is a combination of anxiety and excitement. “Where is he? Where did you leave him?” In her excitement Newt has forgotten to speak quietly, but she doesn’t notice this.

Drago can feel the familiar tingle of Newt’s probe and so responds with his thoughts, “Thank you, dear Newt. I found your father in Huvat Vex, or rather he found me. He is directly above us, probably just out of your range, fighting giant bats with Indranil. We heard you fall from the surface and he is very worried about you. He couldn’t read you either and thought maybe you were dead. Your mother is locked up in the Deathwalker villa. And yes, I know about G’ruk.” Drago tries to laugh but only spits up water. “I’m gonna kill that fat old lizard.” Drago laughs again, this time more successfully.

As Drago gathers his wits about him, he says softly in Keolandish, “How do you know about G’ruk and the Immortal King? Are there lizards nearby?”

Newt is still speaking swiftly. “G’ruk just left through that hidden door in the rock. He’s going to try to awaken the Immortal King. I saw and heard these things just after I fell. He has only three guards with him–the ones who spoke to you just recently to have you go see G’ruk. If we hurry we may catch him while he’s ill-prepared! But oh! How are we to help See– my father?”

“Oh, how can I get back up there? Come Drago, we need to get back to the rope!” She tried to help him up and get him moving upstream, back toward the others.

“Wait…” she says, stopping. “Why is Indranil here? He was going to kill you!” She starts moving again. “And giant bats? Are they with the Deathwalkers?”

Drago chuckles. “So, the fat shaman finally left his tent. Let G’ruk go. The King of Thracia is after him now too. I doubt G’ruk knows where the Immortal King is yet, but even if he does, I want to see what happens, if he is who or what I think he is.

“So, was Indranil gone for awhile? We ran into him outside the building above and saved his life. He apologized profusely for his poor behavior the other day, so I didn’t have to kill him.” Drago chuckles again, spitting up more water.

“The bats live in the caves. They are the size of an ox,” finishes Drago.

With a wry smile in the dark, Newt replies “You might say I fell into the information. And yes, there are lizardfolk attacking our friends upstream. The lizards are at their encampment and our friends are on this side of the river, They’re all trading javelins and arrows, and we need to find a way for weak swimmers to get across so we can chase down G’ruk.” She takes a quick breath as she finishes shooting all that out.

“All these people trying to find their deities in these caves! First the Deathwalkers and Thanatos, and now the lizardfolk and this ‘Immortal King!’ I don’t think they all know what they’re getting into, and it scares me!”

Shifting topics, she continues. “How I wish I could send thoughts to you as well as receive them! It would be so much simpler.

Indranil, well, yes. He left us. It’s complicated and it was sad and ugly. I’m glad you were able to save his life. And I’m glad you aren’t trying to kill each other any more. I’ll have to tell you the details later, though.

How can we get back up to help Father and Indranil?”

Drago takes in this new information. “Where’s the secret door G’ruk used? Is the lizardfolk encampment very close? There are probably a couple dozen lizards there and maybe another couple dozen gnoll nearby as guards….”

Drago suddenly realizes he’s lost his new sword and shield. So he chugs down his last healing potion, drops his remaining weapons on the sand and dives into the river without saying a further word in order to find them.

Still tapped into his mind, this doesn’t surprise Newt.

From out of the darkness in the cavern overhead a loud buzzing is heard followed by hideous cries that echo out of one of the tunnel into the larger cavern.

A little later a bat the size of an ox splashes down, very dead, into the river.

The sound of an arrow ricocheting off steel is heard. “There’s another one!” Hilric the dwarf calls.

After that there is an anguished cry and then a dead Deathwalker lands with a splash.

The sounds of bows and crossbows being fired overhead continues and fainter but getting louder the sounds of the clash of arms and shouting echoing out of one of the tunnels.

Whatever is going on up there is getting increasingly apocalyptic.

Newt hurries to get the dropped equipment. When they are both at the surface again Newt asks “How can we get up there? Please, Drago, we need to hurry!”

Drago realizes that its way too dark from him to see anything. Then he feels a tap on his shoulder. It’s Newt. She’s found the sword and shield and hands them over to him without comment.

When they are both at the surface again Newt asks, “How can we get up there? Please, Drago, we need to hurry!”

At that point from around the river bend you hear the following.

Fingol spins and bolts out from under the stalactites. “Back, get back!” he warns “There’s some sort of creature that dropped down on me. Let’s make torches before we go through there again,” Fingol suggests. “Whatever they are, they aren’t likely to drop down on that.”

Hearing the yelling and splashing from downriver Fingol says, “How long can the dwarves hold out? We’ve got to move!” Fingol exhorts. “It seems everyone is zeroing in on this Immortal King. G’ruk is just ahead of us, and the gnolls are just behind. From what Newt said, I guess Drago is responsible for all this, but the gods alone know what luck led us here at this time. We have no time to lose, or this chance will slip away and Melkot and Westkeep will pay the price!”

From way downriver you hear a loud voice booming: “Stop it! Quiet up there! Why can’t you people leave me in peace!

When they get out of the water Drago thanks Newt profusely for finding his new weapons. Hearing sounds, he understands most of it, but asks Newt, “What, or rather who, was that last voice?”

“That? Oh, that’s just the giant on the bridge. I don’t think we should cross there unless we’re looking for trouble.

Let’s swim back, it will be easier and we can avoid those stalactites. I don’t want anything falling on me. C’mon Drago, follow me.”

Drago replies, “Oh, a giant. And yes, swimming is safer than walking. The things that look like stalactites are called darkmantles. Then fall upon and consume the unwary. The lizardfolk swim the river to avoid them.”

Just before Twilight, Readying 20, 591

Holoste hisses in Common, “Stop your jabbering! We must get to the villa now before we are captured and report to Patriarch Tavasmok!”
Drago looks from one to the other, then says, “Kašvestu selfn!” as he envisions himself as a 7.5′ minotaur. He then says in Common, “Sorry about slapping you back there, Holoste.” Then looking at both of them, “Is the Deathwalkers’ cavern below the villa?”

Holoste steps back a bit unnerved by Drago’s changes. “N…no. The caverns are that way.” He points to the west towards the conjunction of the canals that run north to south and east to west.

“Then you go back to the villa, Holoste,” says Ulmar. “We are going do what we can for those trapped in the caverns.”

Holoste looks as though he were about to object, but then Ulmar begins to growl. Holoste nods and runs off to the south.

“Good, he’s gone. Let’s go!” says Drago.

They carefully make their way east towards the canals. They finally
see the besieged building up ahead. Before it is a copse of trees,
behind which five gnolls, four hyenas, and perhaps a dozen or more
lizardfolk have taken cover and are training their bows on the wooden
door of the squat building at the juncture of the north-south and
east-west canals running through the ruined city. Ulmar holds his hand
up to caution Drago and then points to a 5’ hole in the ground
concealed among the weeds.

Just then, the sound of a young woman’s receding scream can be heard echoing up through the hole, as though she had fallen into it, but at a point further down than they can see. Then they hear the echo of a man’s voice crying, ““Newt! Hold on! I will send help!” The sounds of steel clashing on steel can also be faintly heard. The lizardfolk and gnolls behind the trees do not seem to have heard any of these sounds issuing from the hole in the ground.

Drago whispers to Ulmar, “Can we safely climb down the hole? Can you communicate with Newt yet?”

Ulmar is clearly agitated and upset by this. “No! I have no rope with
me, do you?” He asks in Draconic. “I can’t sense her! She is too far
away or…” He looks at Drago in desperation. “The only way down there
is the stairwell in that building. We must get in!”

Drago shakes his head in negation as he looks toward the gnolls and lizards to see if he can steal any rope from them with his mage’s hand. When he doesn’t see any, he whispers, “Here goes nothing.” In his most intimidating voice, he points to the door and calls out to the gnolls and the lizardfolk in booming Common, “Break down that door! NOW!”

“Break down that door! Now!”

Cackling like fiends of the Abyss, the gnolls, hyenas and lizardfolk
all leave the cover of the trees and rush the door. Javelins are
hurled and several stick in the door even as Rogi slams it shut with a
yelp. The leading gnolls slam into the door with their shoulders, but
it is too late, the dwarves inside have already bolted it shut. It is
at the moment that Indranil’s invisibility fades and he stands exposed
beside the door to the horde of beast-men.

Howling in surprise and berserk rage, the gnolls and lizardfolk turn on
Indrail. Aatu rushes to Indranil’s side even as one of the hyenas
tries to bite the beleaguered ranger. There is no time for any more
casting of spells, Indranil is forced to draw his sword and defend
himself. With a powerful blow he cuts down the gnoll in front of him,
but a hyena rushes him and bites into his leg. He sees that another
hyena has crashed into Aatu and pulled him to the ground by the
throat.

Drago pauses, astonished at Indranil’s sudden appearance. Then he smiles, enjoying the sight of him being mauled. He wishes he could sit back with a nice cocktail and enjoy the show, but he knows he needs to help him. Indranil would be very helpful to get inside the cavern. Still… Drago takes another moment to fantasize about BBQ elf for dinner before he says to Ulmar, “We need to help him.” He unslings his gem encrusted shield and draws his new long sword.

As Drago and Ulmar consider what to do, Indranil shears through the neck of the hyena gripping Aatu in its jaws. Its head rolls away as Aatu leaps to his feet and tears into the other hyena menacing Indranil. With a yelp the hyena backs away and then runs, the other two hyenas also turn tail and follow after.

There is no time to rest however, for the lizardfolk have backed away to hurl their last javelins at Indranil. His shield wards off all but one that pierces him in the right leg. Then the gnolls charge in with their spears. Aatu runs between the legs of one and trips him while Indranil swats away the spear of another with his sword and then slashes the hapless gnoll in the belly. Aatu bites the gnoll he tripped again and again before he is able to stumble back to his feet, blood running down his mauled arms.

Then the lizardfolk move in with shields and their primitive spiked war clubs. Indranil and Aatu are hard pressed on all sides now as Indranil calls out to the dwarves to open the door so he and Aatu can slip in.

Suddenly, as things begin to look hopeless, a minotaur bearing a finely made sword and a shield decorated with silver and platinum tracery along with inlaid carnelians and a gnoll with a lizardfolk shield and spiked club smash into the back of the lizardfolk warrior ranks hewing and smiting them right and left. Then the door of the squat building opens and Grim takes a swipe at one of the gnolls with his axe, he misses but now the gnolls and lizardfolk must turn their attention to him as well.

It is not a moment too soon, for one of the lizardfolk manages to strike Aatu with his war club. Aatu yelps in pain but continues snapping at the gnolls and lizardfolk around him. Indranil finds himself forced to back up against the wall as he is beset right, left, and center by gnolls and lizardfolk. With a powerful blow he lops off the head of the gnoll he wounded in the belly, and with his shield wards off the war clubs of the lizardfolk.

The battle continues furiously as Indranil splits the head of another
gnoll, and then turns his attention to the lizardfolk surrounding him,
spilling the guts of one who raised his shield too high. Only one
gnoll remains while he and Grim trade one blow after another but neither gives way though both are bruised and bloodied. Aatu dogs the gnoll’s heels but his leather bracers and thick fur protect him from the wolf’s sharp teeth. The lizardfolk are so intent on Indranil now that
they leave Aatu alone. Indranil works furiously with shield and sword,
blocking and parrying the lizardfolk war clubs, still he is struck
painfully in the left leg and the stomach. Bloodied but undaunted he
fights on against the half dozen or so lizardfolk warriors outside the
door. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that by the treeline the
minotaur and the gnoll are still fighting, the minotaur having taken
down one foe, and the gnoll having felled two others. Still there are
at least five more lizardfolk warriors encircling them.

In the blink of an eye the battle changes as a hail of the black
fletched arrows of the Deathwalkers fall upon the lizardfolk. Half
their numbers are reduced within seconds, and the rest break away from the fight to dive into the canal running off to the swamps to the
east. Grim finally gets a killing blow on the last gnoll as the
lizardfolk fall or run and he beckons Indranil to hurry in. Indranil
looks off to his right and sees that the Deathwalkers have arrived.
Four of the fighters in banded armor are marching up the street,
already putting another arrow to their bows. Indranil sees four
more Deathwalker fighters with their clerics behind them on the roof
of the building to the southeast. Judging from the barrage of arrows
that came from the west, Indranil guesses that the other warriors are
just around the corner.

“Indranil, wait! I am Ulmar and we must rescue Newt! She is in danger.
Let us in with you!” It is the gnoll who was fighting the lizardfolk
warriors shouting from the treeline. He is already running towards the
door dragging the minotaur along with him.

As they run toward Indranil, the minotaur dismisses his spell and becomes himself again. When they reach him, Drago bows briefly and says, “Sir Indranil, meet Newt’s father, Ulmar.” He smiles toothily.

“Indranil, wait! I am Ulmar and we must rescue Newt! She is in danger.
Let us in with you!” It is the gnoll who was fighting the lizardfolk
warriors shouting from the treeline. He is already running towards the
door dragging the minotaur along with him. As they run toward
Indranil, the minotaur performs a gesture of spell dismissal. His
features shift into those of Drago.

“By the goddess! Drago! It is good to see you! Hurry, get inside! We
can talk later.”

The three of them and Aatu all rush inside as arrows begin to fall
around them. Indranil is the last to enter. Before ducking through the
doorway he casts Entangle to hinder the approaching Deathwalkers. He runs through the door and slams it behind him latching the bar. The
thunking of many arrows hitting the door can be heard as well as the
dismay of the warriors who were rounding the building but have been
stopped in their tracks by the vines and weeds that twine themselves
around their legs and feet.

Safe for the moment, Drago bows briefly and says, “Sir Indranil, meet
Newt’s father, Ulmar.” He smiles toothily.

To the astonishment of Grim and the other dwarves, Ulmar shifts and
his features transform into those of a human male with dark eyes and
hair, someone who very well could be the father of Adelina. He holds
his hand out to shake Indranil’s hand, but then sees the look on the
dwarves faces, “Oh, they didn’t know did they?”

Drago chuckles at the dwarves’ response.

Indranil laughs lightly and nods his head towards the astonished dwarves, “No, they didn’t know until now. It is a secret we have closely guarded at your daughter’s request. The fewer who know of your… skill… the better.”

Indranil bows to Ulmar and says, “Good Sir, it is an honor to finally meet you, the father of my comrade Adelina. And, it is an especial relief that you are safe and free from the Deathwalkers. My colleagues have risked all to reenter this City to search for you and your wife. Finding you is such welcome news. I am greatly pleased and eager to hear your story… when we have time.”

Turning to Drago Indranil not only bows lowly and fully but drops to his knees and with his hands clasped to his chest he says, “Good Drago, Please forgive my sins of hatred and bigotry. I have ill served you, done you wrong and great injustice. I beg your forgiveness. In penance I offer you my friendship and pledge of respect and honor. I have strayed far from balance and paid for it with the loss of friendship and respect. The Goddesses have offered me atonement and as penance I must seek to restore balance.”

Indranil waits upon his knees for Drago’s response.

Drago is astonished. He tries to speak, repeatedly, but no sound comes out of his mouth. Finally, Drago simply offers his clawed paw and says, “Rise, Sir Knight, all is forgiven. However, there are forces gathering beyond your worst nightmare that are bent upon the destruction of humanity.” Motioning toward Ulmar, “Between the two of us, we now know most of the secrets of Thracia and Huvat Vex. But first, we need to save Newt. We heard her fall into the pit from the hole on the surface and Ulmar can’t read her. We’re very worried. Can we go to her now and talk later?”

Afternoon, Readying 20, 591

“My, but gnolls and minotaurs certainly are stirred up, aren’t they?” asks the major-domo Bitterbark as he steps into Drago’s cell several long tedious hours later. “Let us chat for a little bit. I am curious to hear your tale.”

Drago blinks, stretches, and asks, “How so, milord?”

“I am curious as to what could have led the Keolanders they say you traveled with back to Thracia. Did you find a map or did someone lead you back here? Was it one of your former comrades perhaps?”

Drago nods, then replies, “The Keolanders found an ancient manuscript in a Deathwalker shrine in the swamps. Their clerics were able to translate enough of it to lead us here.”

“Is that so? There wasn’t a young girl with you from Cypress Hill?”

Drago gasps softly. He pauses, cocks his head, looks Bitterbark in the eyes and says softly, “Are you both safe?”

Bitterbark’s eyes widen. He puts his paw to his snout to shush Drago. Then he whispers, “So you know. Thanks the gods, our little one is safe; but maybe not for long. The gnolls and the lizardfolk are hunting them down as we speak. We must both get out of here at once if we are to save your friends. Gather your gear and come with me. I am Ulmar, the father of Newt. Her mother Saeva is still being held by the Deathwalkers in their villa. We can talk later, for now we must get out and quietly.”

Drago silently smiles toothily as he quietly gathers his gear and follows Ulmar as instructed. Drago is giddy with happiness. He slobbers absentmindedly. Newt will be so happy!

Ulmoar leads Drago back out to the arena. Luckily for them, no one challenges them. The arena is as empty as it was before. Ulmar doesn’t lead Drago up into the stands, however, but straight across to the western perimeter. He touches a stone and a section of the wall slides aside revealing a secret passage running beneath the stands.

“This way,” says Ulmar. “We will be less likely to run into anyone, and I can also sense if anyone is near us. Also, hold onto my shoulder. It will be dark, but I know the way.”

He enters, Drago following, and entrance closes behind them. The passage is narrow but only 20’ long. At the end, Ulmar touches a stone and Drago can hear the sliding of stone.

“Right past this tunnel is a stairwell that lead back up to the palace. They are not used anymore for reasons that will soon be clear to you. Do not be alarmed. The ancient Thracians thrived on all manner of perversities, but the stone gropers are harmless unless you strike at them. Then we will both be in trouble. So be calm!”

With that warning, Ulmar leads Drago up the darkened stairwell. As soon as they start up, Drago feels cold stone hands reaching from the walls on either side. They are flexible, smooth, and oddly soft, like animated clay. They caress, pat, and grope Drago and Ulmar from all sides, sometimes pinching or smacking them, but never going so far as to cause any real injury.

“Be calm, just enjoy it if you can. Do not strike the hands whatever you do!” warns Ulmar again.

Finally, they reach the top of the stairwell. The hands recede back into the walls. Ulmar opens yet another secret door and pulls Drago into another darkened passage at a right angle to the stairs. This passage is 15’ wide and runs on for some 50’. It is lit by a pair of baleful, glowing, amber colored eyes set into the wall on the left. They eyes chill Drago’s soul as he looks upon them. Looking back at the secret door they just came through, Drago sees that it now appears to be just another part of the marble walls.

“Come, Drago, the eyes are unpleasant but harmless.” Ulmar suddenly changes himself from Bitterbark into a lizardfolk warrior. It is the same kind of transformation that Drago saw Newt perform. His flesh ripples and shifts in color, shape, and texture. He casts aside the robe he had been wearing as Bitterbark and in the shadows retrieves a shield, morningstar, and three javelins that he had earlier placed there. He leads Drago halfway down the hall and opens another secret door disguised as a marble panel.

As the door opens it lets in a blinding blaze of light. Drago can hear a sizzling sound and feels a heat far more intense than the heat of the chambers beneath the palace. Ulmar shouts, “Damn! The way is blocked!”

Drago instinctively raises his shield to protect himself and peers into the blazing heat. As his eyes adjust to the light, he sees that the secret door opens into a room that is a large dome 50’ in diameter and 40’ from floor to peak. On the other side of the dome is a 50’ long hall with a single door on the right, two on the left, and a single door at the end of the hall. If the secret door is on the north side of the dome, then to the left on the east side of the dome is a door. At the apex of the ceiling of the dome is a large crystal that casts a shaft of sunlight that pierces the darkness of the room. The shaft of light creates a 10’ diameter circle on the floor directly in front of the secret door. It is this beam of focused light that initially blinded Drago is emitting such intense heat. On the other side of the beam an Amedi clad in rags in chained to the center of the floor. He looks up at the two lizardfolk and sneers, defiance in his eyes.

Ulmar sighs and says in Draconic, “We must wait for the beam to cross towards the center of the room. Perhaps in five minutes we’ll have enough room to squeeze by it. Eventually it will reach the center and burn this human alive. It is one of many sadistic games these beast-men play. As the beam of light cook this unfortunate, his dying screams will let the gnolls cubs in the chambers beyond that door know that their dinner will soon be ready.”

The human begins cursing the two lizardfolk in Amedi. His eyes are filled with hate, and also a growing fear as the beam of light inches closer to him.

Drago ponders out loud, “Should we kill him to silence him, or try to set him free? What if we turned ourselves into Amedi to free him? Do you know the language? I don’t.”

“He’s already seen us, so it’s too late to change our appearance now though I do know Amedi. I assume you have a spell to alter your own appearance?”

Drago nods his assent and adds, “But it is only illusion and only lasts a little while.”

Ulmar nods. “We still have to figure out what to do about him. Just a moment.” Ulmar falls silent and gazes at the Deathwalker for a moment. “Yes, he is a Deathwalker, in fact he is one of priests of Thanatos. His name is Holoste. He knows me, or knows of me. When Saeva and I were brought back to their villa, their Patriarch Tavasmok forced me to become their spy among the ranks of the beast-men. Tavasmok kept my spouse Saeva imprisoned in the store room of the villa, trapped behind magical wards and guarded by his undead. He told me he would kill her if I did not infiltrate the beast-men and report back to them. I have primarily stayed with the Malarat for you lizardfolk are not the creatures of Chaos and Evil that the gnolls and minotaurs are, though I believe your Shaman G’ruk is indeed leading them down a very evil path. The Malarat know me as the warrior Kassmak. Anyway, the Deathwalkers know of me, so this one might cooperate if we free him. However, freeing him might alert King Stronghoen all the faster, and Holoste will try to betray us to the other Deathwalkers. It would be safer for us to leave him to die, but I am loath to allow even one such as him to be roasted alive and eaten by the gnolls. What are your thoughts?

Drago shrugs, “Well, I am not opposed to roasted Deathwalker, nor to slicing open his throat to silence his screams and ease his impending pain.” Drago’s stomach rumbles its agreement. “Thanatos priests are more dangerous than an average Deathwalker though. Even so, if you can use your relationship with them to ease our danger, that is fine with me. They probably should be alerted to Stronghoen’s gathering of Beast-men tribes bent upon their destruction after all. If we help him as their ally and spy, perhaps Saeva will not be harmed because of it. It sounds like they already know your true nature?”

“They do, unfortunately.” Then his eyes widen. “If the beast-men overwhelm the villa, they may kill Saeva as well. Yes, we must rescue Holoste and send him to the villa to warn them. Look, the beam has moved away from the door. We must act quickly!”

Drago and Ulmar are able to squeeze around the beam and into the chamber beyond. Ulmar says to Holoste in Amedi, “Holoste, olen Ulmar, vakooja lähetitte keskuudessa peto-miehiä. Tämä soturi minulle on ystävä. Sinun ei tarvitse huolehtia hänestä. Nyt aiomme vapaasti sinua niin kiltti ja lopeta meidän huutaen.”

Holoste calms and replies, “Ulmar? Jos olet vapaa minua hakemaan minut pois täältä tulen varmasti kiittää teitä patriarkan Tavasmok.”

Ulmar replies, “Kiitos, mutta teidän ihmisten pitää vaimoni panttivangeiksi ja pakotti minut vakoilemaan teitä vielä ystäväni ja olen sitä mieltä, että meidän ei anna sinun kuolla tällä tavalla. Myös sinun ihmiset ovat suuressa vaarassa. Sinun on varoitettava niistä. Mutta ensin meidän täytyy murtaa näitä ketjuja.”

Ulmar turns to Drago, “Help me, maybe together we can break these chains.”

“Hmm… maybe a big glob of acid on the chains will help us break it?” replies Drago.

“Give it a try then,” Ulmar responds.

Drago then hacks up a ball of acid and spits it onto the chain. It burns through one of the links and the Deathwalker is free.

“Quickly, there is no time to waste,” says Ulmar. They head out of the dome and down the hall, taking the door at the far end. It opens up into the temple hall of the palace. Before moving into the courtyard, Ulmar shifts into the form of a gnoll and grasps the end of the chain hanging from Holoste’s neck. “If you want to leave you will let me lead you as a slave.” Holoste nods his understanding but is clearly not happy about it. “Drago, if you can change into a gnoll do it now. The hydra will not bother two gnolls and a human slave, but its touchy about lizardfolk as you probably know.”

Drago responds softly, “Kašvestu selfn.” and makes it so. Drago is now a gnoll.

As Ulmar said, the hydra doesn’t threaten them, though its eyes can be seen watching them in its pool. Crossing the lawn the harpies hover over them but then resume their station on the palace walls. The lizardfolk and beast-men in the small temple with the well barely spare them a glance. They make their way through the grove, whereupon Drago hears the sound of gentle laughter, and furtive shapes seem to slip in and out of the trees. Every now and then he almost catches sight of something or someone out of the corner of his eyes, but when he turns to look there is nothing to see.

“They are dryads,” Ulmar explains in Draconian. “They will not bother us. Here we are.”

They arrive back at the ring of fruit trees and the circular slab of marble with the checkered square in the center. Ulmar leads them all to the square and within seconds they are back at the large temple to an unknown human goddess in the upper cavern.

Ulmar leads them out of the cavern and into the rat infested cavern. Again they go unchallenged by the guards. He takes them to the right towards the long stairs that lead back up to the surface. At this point, Drago’s illusion fades and he appears once more as himself. Ulmar retains his gnoll form and continues to lead Holoste by the chain linked to the collar around his throat.

Suddenly they hear someone shouting in Draconian. From the entrance to the tunnel that leads back to the Malarat encampment, Igusadon, Iguanosuth, and Kopusuth emerge.

“Drago!” shouts Igusadon. “We feared for you. We were just about to go to the surface to fight the humans, for they have been found and trapped within the caverns of the Deathwalkers. But that can wait. Shaman G’ruk must see you immediately. He was enraged when he found out you were accosted by King Stronghoen. You must come with us to see him.”

Igusadon then notices Ulmar and Holoste. “Who are these? What business do you have with the Malarat?”

Holoste wisely says nothing, but Ulmar looks to Drago and then to Igusadon. He seems like he is trying to figure out what to say.

“Igusadon!” Drago smiles disarmingly and says in Draconic, “Hello my friends! Oh, Stronghoen is a pussy cat. Please give my regards to Shaman G’ruk. No time to talk now, but I am alive and well! We’re off on a secret mission for His Majest. You will see me again though, if we all live to see another day. Death to the humans!”

Drago slaps the Deathwalker softly and says to Ulmar in Common without waiting for a response from the lizards, “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” cries Igusadon. “Your mission can wait! Shaman G’ruk will see you now!”

“Oh really?” says Ulmar in broken Common. “You forget who is king of Thracia. King Stronghoen has told me that it is urgent I bring Drago and this human slave to the surface to advise Hssdk, your war leader, in his fight against the humans. It is urgent they speak with him now. Your shaman can wait. Hssdk will send Drago back when the battle is won.”

Igusadon grips his morning-star and for a moment seems as though he is going to draw it, but then his hand falls away. With a snort he says with more than a hint of mockery, “Of course we are all beholden to the great King Stronghoen. I did not realize Drago was on such an important and sensitive mission for the king. I apologize. Drago, be sure to come back straight away to see Shaman G’ruk when you have helped win the battle.” He then curtly turns and beckons for Iguanosuth and Kopusuth to join him. They head off back to the lizardfolk encampment.

“Hurry now,” says Ulmar, “before there is more trouble. From the direction of the underground temple they hear a new commotion. It sounds like the excited chatter of gnolls. “I fear they have discovered that you two are missing. Run!”

They rush up the stairs and arrive breathless in the upper corridors. They easily pass the gnoll guard station, as the gnolls are not aware of any reason to hinder a lizardfolk, gnoll, and human slave. Just as they reach the entry hall, however, they do hear cries of alarm in the Gnoll tongue coming from the hall behind them. Apparently the gnolls from the palace reached the guard station. The three fugitives rush up the stairs back to the surface ruins, and again they pass the gnolls waiting in ambush in the trees. Those gnolls also let them by without a word. Only seconds after they round the corner of some nearby ruins they again hear the barking cries and excited chatter of the gnolls from the palace.

“We must find your friends soon,” says Ulmar in Draconic. They will be scouring the city for us now, and they already have many warriors out here.

Morning Dinner, Readying 20, 591 – How the Dragon Disciple Became the Minotaur’s Apprentice

King Stronghoen asks, “Are you a shaman like G’ruk? Do you have that kind of power?”

Drago shrugs his shoulders, “Not like G’ruk. He is very powerful. I don’t think I can kill him yet, at least not in an honest fight. My draconic powers only began to manifest recently. I am a fledgling sorcerer, yet I hold the hereditary right to become Chief Shaman among our people.” To demonstrate, Drago utters, “Jhetu sorch-manon!” as he points to the jug of wine to pour himself another drink with his Mage’s Hand.

King Stronghoen says, “How intriguing.” Then he also repeats the same arcane words and with a wave of his hand the jug floats away from Drago to refill his own mug. The jug then floats back down to the table. Drago notices for the first time that on his right hand he wears a gold ring with intricate traceries on it. It seems to glint in the blue light coming in from the skylights. “Yes, it is handy to have both arcane and martial might to keep one’s underlings in line. Now tell me, I know that G’ruk is looking for something here. I have tolerated it so far, but what or who is he looking for. Is he also looking for this dragon Kopep? Are you all related? I’ll tell you now that I don’t know of any dragon around here, but we certainly don’t want any poking around. I will be most displeased should any of you attract or arouse a dragon in my kingdom. Now tell me what G’ruk is really up to.”

Drago’s snout twitches. “No, Your Majest, we are not all related to Kopep. I am told I am the only one currently to show signs of his heritage in my blood. It is a rare bloodline. The others… they seek the sleeping Immortal King of Huvat Vex in their quest for hegemony of lizard kind over all others. That is why I was sent here by Chief Rahk to kill him. G’ruk’s quest for power has divided my people. I must find a way to reunite my people in peace. Of course, ratting them out may not be the best option to bring that about either.” Drago chuckles softly. “It would be better for me if you kept the true nature of their quest to yourself, my liege, at least for now.”

King Stronghoen chuckles and says, “And who would I want to tell? No, your intrigues and reptilian squabbles are your own business. Still, am I to understand that Chief Rahk does not wish G’ruk to find this Immortal King? Why not? It sounds like that would be a great thing for all of you… you… lizardfolk?”

Drago shrugs again and says, “Chief Rahk and the other village elders do not believe in the Immortal King. Furthermore, they believe it is best where possible to be on friendly terms with all sentient beings. G’ruk and the lizardfolk here think very differently. Chief Rahk sent me amongst the humans to build friendly relations, but unfortunately, my interactions with some of them gave me a foul taste for humanity’s values.” Drago points toward the female on the spit. “That is all they are good for. In this I have come around to share G’ruk’s views.”

“I see,” says King Stronghoen. “And yet, you say you do not seek the Immortal King but this dragon Kopep, and that you have come here to kill G’ruk and take over his tribe, or perhaps I should say faction of a tribe. So tell me, if I help you to become leader of the lizardfolk here, what would you do with them? Return to Chief Rahk who wishes to ally with the humans? Continue seeking this dragon, Kopep? Or would you yourself take up the quest for the Immortal King?”

Drago chuckles softly, nervously, “Perhaps a little of all three, my liege. Life in my village is rather dull and so much less dangerous than here.” Drago smiles toothily. “I am inclined to stick around and help you kill off the humans. The less humans, elves and dwarves in the world, the better we all are. I was not so interested in the Immortal King. My quest is and remains finding Kopep. But… my gut tells me that they may be one and the same. Whether I live or die, I am determined to find out whether I am indeed a prince of Huvat Vex.” Drago pauses, bows his head in offering and respect, “My life is yours if you wish, my liege.”

“Indeed,” says King Stronghoen. Finally, the roasted meat is served, and more wine is brought. The cows retreat with the calves to eat their own meal.

After they have had some time to enjoy the food and drink, King Stronghoen continues, “So Drago, your Shaman G’ruk was no so forthcoming about what he was doing here. This is the first I’ve heard of any Immortal King or any dragon. In fact, he did not even tell me that he was a renegade. You are very forthcoming for a lizardman, I think I would prefer to deal with one such as yourself. As you know, I also have some skill in sorcery. I think perhaps you should stay here and work with me for a time, until you are strong enough to challenge G’ruk. Then we can work together to get rid of him and put you in his place. We can become partners, I will rule over the Beast Men and you will rule over the Lizardfolk. Together we can bring this land to its knees. So tell me, what arcane power are you able to wield now? What do you have to work with to start?”

Drago’s nervousness passes and he smiles toothily, “Thank you, my liege, I like that plan.” Scratching his jaw in thought, he says, “This was the first thing I learned: kaŝvestu selfn!” as he visualizes himself to look exactly like King Stronghoen.

King Stronghoen’s eyes go wide and he bellows, “How dare you!” He lunges for Drago and catches him by the throat with both hands. Reflexively, Drago tries to break the minotaur king’s grip but realizes that he would have as much luck trying to break a large oak tree with his bare hands. King Stronghoen’s grip tightens and cuts off Drago’s breath, crushing his throat. “You… will… never… take… my… royal… countenance…again!” he snarls into Drago’s ear. “Do you understand?”

Drago realizes that he is seconds away from death. He gurgles as he nods his agreement.

“You are a very dangerous lizardman, Drago. Fortunately for you – a useful one as well.”

King Stronghoen takes another bite from the haunch of the unfortunate Deathwalker woman who has been served as their meal. He waits from Drago to recover. In fact, he even hands him some more wine. “Drink up. We are partners now. What else can you do? And don’t lie to me. I will be most unhappy if you lie.”

Drago thanks Stronghoen for the wine, and again as a lizard says, “My apologies, Your Majest. I did not mean to offend, only to show you my gifts that you may call upon as you please.” Drago takes another sip of wine to ease his aching throat, then adds, “I can also spit acid, detect magic, send messages a short distance, and disrupt undead.”

King Stronghoen mulls this over as they finish eating in silence. At last he says, “Yes, I can see that your magic may not be quite up to challenging G’ruk. But who knows? I have not heard of him using any kind of powerful or deadly magic so far. Still, best to be sure. Come with me.”

King Stronghoen takes Drago back out into the hall. They turn to the right to the door on the southwest side of the hall. Going in, Drago finds that it is a small office with another door facing the one they came in. Seated at the north end of the room is an old human, dressed much better than the other human slaves, going over a list and speaking with two gnolls. All three rise and bow as King Stronghoen comes in. He waves them off with a casual wave of his hand and takes Drago through the other door.

It opens up into a much larger room lined with shelves, barrels, and crates of assorted foodstuffs. There are urns and amphorae on the shelves. Six gnolls, and a dog brother in a long plush gray robe are in here playing dice around a table. They too stand at attention as King Stronghoen passes them, Drago in tow. King Stronghoen walks over to a cabinet on the west wall and shoves it aside to reveal a hallway. He reaches up to the mantle and presses a section of it. He then grabs an everburning lantern from a nearby shelf. He then leads Drago down the hall and to the right and then down a dark dismal stairway. As they descend it gets hotter and hotter. Though to Drago it is quiet comfortable, he realizes that any human going down into such burning darkness would probably wonder if they were descending into one of the hotter hells.

Halfway down, King Stronghoen stops and holds Drago back as well. He calls out in the Gnoll tongue, “Dead men tell no tales.” Then he continues on, assuming that Drago will follow.

Drago follows with growing excitement. While it might be the death of him, he realizes he is going deeper than any other lizardfolk has managed before this time. Drago mutters, “Magio rivelighu” as he follows Stronghoen and looks for any tell tale glows as he goes.

“You try my patience,” snarls King Stronghoen. “I did not give you permission to use any detection spells. You had better learn discretion and manners if you wish to serve me. I would also advise you against snooping around down here. It would be most unwise, and likely lethal.”

At the bottom of the stairs they emerge into a large half-circular room, about 40’ in radius with a straight wall to the right and the circular perimeter to the left. Halfway down the wall on the right is the entrance to another hall. The ceiling of the room is 30’ high and semicircular walls are decorated with wall paintings of sumptuous feasts and vast gardens. The walls have flaked and worn with age. There are a few ruined wood couches strewn about the room, and shattered marble slabs that were once tables. Drago guesses that it might once have been a great banquet hall. Against the north wall are six heavy ceramic urns that have avoided destruction. This is all revealed in the dim light of the lantern. It is very hot.

As they walk through the room, two shadowy figures stir at the shadowy edges of the lamplight. Drago sees that they are not couches but great beasts. The creatures have vaguely humanoid heads, the bodies of lions, and wings like those of a dragon. Their tails end in long, sharp spikes. They watch as King Stronghoen and Drago pass by, flicking their tails and licking their chops, but then settle down again and rest their heads once more beneath their paws.

The hall leading off from the banquet hall is a short one, only 10’ long and it opens up into a smaller square room with walls carved in bas-reliefs of men fighting beasts of all types. There are two doors: one straight ahead and one to the right. King Stronghoen crosses the vacant chamber, takes out a key, and then unlocks the door straight ahead of them.

On the other side of the door is another hall leading off to the left. The hall stretches on for some 40’ and ends at the top of a series of elegant box seats overlooking the southern perimeter of a large arena with a sandy floor some 70’ in diameter. Stands encircle the rest of the arena, interrupted only on the eastern side where there is the mouth of a tunnel. Exquisite tapestries and statuary depicting fantastic beasts and heroic warriors once decorated the box seats, but not there is only rubble and hanging rags. The high ceiling rises over 40’ at its zenith. A large crystal at the zenith illuminated the arena.

King Stronghoen takes Drago down to the arena floor and then heads over to the tunnel. The tunnel is 10’ wide and 30’ long, ending in a T-intersection. Spaced 10’ apart are three levers on each side of the tunnel before the intersection. There are doors at either end of the crossing tunnel that is only 30’ long. King Stronghoen turns to the door on the left and goes through into an area containing several large rooms that must once have been used to contain the animals that fought the gladiators in the arena. Everburning torches spaced out along the walls illuminate the area. King Stronghoen leads Drago past the cells, and in a couple of them he can hear the sounds of minotaurs murmuring and even what sounds like a calve lowing contentedly. None of the cell doors are closed. King Stronghoen shows Drago to an empty cell. It is furnished with a straw cot, a side table, and wooden chest.

“You can stay here for now.” King Stronghoen then shouts, “Thundahoof! Woofworth! Attend to me!”

A minotaur and a dog-brother quickly hustle down to Drago’s cell from another cell at the end of the hall.

“This is Drago,” King Stronghoen says to them. “He is an aspiring young sorcerer who is going to be working with me for a while. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble and that he’s comfortable during his stay here.”

King Stronghoen then addresses Drago, “If you need anything, you can ask my two servants in the cell at the end of the hall. This is Thundahoof,” King Stronghoen says indicating the minotaur. Thundahoof is a massive beast, only overshadowed by King Stronghoen himself. He is 8’ tall and easily weighs 800 or more pounds. Severe scarring mars his left flank. He holds a greataxe in his massive hands. He glares down at Drago and his nostrils flare.

“You see these scars?” asks the minotaur king. “They were made fighting lizardfolk before we came to an arrangement with G’ruk. Don’t try Thundahoof’s patience.”

Thundahoof stamps his hooves and snorts.

“This is Woofworth,” the minotaur king indicates the dog-brother in grey robes with a wand tucked in his belt. “He is a powerful sorcerer. Do not cross him either.”

Woofworth nods at Drago and says, “As His Majesty says, if you need anything come to us. Do not wander about on your own.”

“You may go,” says King Stronghoen. Thundahoof and Woofworth return to their cell at the end of the hall. “I will come for you after I attend to some other business, and we will work on your training in the arcane arts. Do not disturb the other residents here. Do not go wandering about. There will be no protection for you if you wander about, and I would be saddened if you lost your life down here because you could not sit still for just a few hours. Now be patient until I come for you.” King Stronghoen abruptly walks away, leaving Drago alone in his cell.

Drago leaves the door open, but sits down at the back of the cell against the wall facing the door. He mutters, “Oh crap. What have I gotten myself into now?” Then he tries to get some sleep, to heal his still aching throat.

Morning, Readying 20, 591 — in the Palace of Huvat Vex

Igusadon leads Drago back down the temple hall back to the solid gold double-doors that were to the left as they first entered from the courtyard. Entering, Drago finds himself in a grand yet threadbare throne room. The floor is carpeted with red wool, but traffic and time have worn the covering until the marble floor shows through. The walls are decorated in alternating panels of hunts, revels, human gods, the decadent lifestyle of the Thracians in the palace and various other ceremonies. Hung on the wall to their right as they enter is a large and broken stone tablet. The tablet has numerous gold runes on it written in a language unknown to Drago, but tantalizingly similar to Draconic.

At the southern end of the hall sits the king’s crudely carved black stone throne that seems terribly out of place compared to the other furnishings. The tapestries on the walls behind the throne are made of a very tough, bright fabric. They are also brittle with age and the ends are frayed. To the left and right of the throne are wrought iron braziers. Both emit a dim smokeless light. There are no other sources of light other than the natural light that filters in through the doors as Igusadon and Drago enter.

As soon as the double doors are opened, Igusadon and Drago are assailed by a cacophony of howling and wailing. The throne room if filled to overflowing with gnolls,, at least three dozen bitches and cubs, and perhaps two dozen or more gnoll warriors, many of whom are wrapped in bandages. They are all crying out in rage and anguish. Ranged around the room are half a dozen gnolls in leather armor, with shields and battleaxes who bark at the rest and shove them away from the area around the throne. Standing by the throne is a smaller gnoll, or perhaps not a gnoll. Though he barks and growls at the ragged tribe before him, he looks more like a Doberman with mangy fur and one ear flap missing. He is arrayed in leather armor, has a longsword at his side and around his neck is a ruby pendant carved like a bull. An immense minotaur, easily over 8’ tall and perhaps half a ton of muscle, sits on the throne in silence but with a look of growing impatience with the rowdy throng. He wears a regal but tattered ermine cape over his powerful shoulders. His skin is jet black with a few white spots. His horns are very long, for a minotaur, and waxy ebony. His nostrils are pinkish and flare as his ire increases.

Igusadon shouts in Drago’s ear, so as to be heard but only by Drago, “That is King Stronghoen, the lord of the City of Eternal Light. Next to him is his major-domo, Bitterbark, one of the dog-brothers. It is probably not the best time to introduce you, but perhaps we should stay here in the back and listen. It sounds like the humans and dwarves this gnoll tribe was sent to hunt in the ruins not only eluded them but tracked them back to their village, massacred their warriors and hyena companions in a sneak attack, murdered their priest while he was offering prayers to their demon-lord Yeenoghu and reading the entrails of one of their slaves, mercilessly ran the rest of the tribe off into the night, stole their food and slaves, and then burned their village down before leaving. These humans and dwarves would be the expedition sent by the Lion Throne that you used to be part of right?”

Drago nods in assent and then feigns for Igusadon’s ears alone, “How terrible for the gnolls!” Drago tries to hide his smile but fails.

Drago nods in assent and then feigns for Igusadon’s ears alone, “How terrible for the gnolls!” Drago tries to hide his smile but fails.

Suddenly, King Stronghoen leaps to his feet and bellows, “Silence!” in the Common tongue. The force of it causes all the gnolls to freeze in place. Some even drop their swords, spears, or whatever else they were holding, even among the guards. Igusadon and Drago feel the force of it too, though they are able to resist what Drago senses is not just the force of the beast king’s presence but sorcery.

The King begins haranguing the assembled gnolls in their own language, and they all begin cringing and edging away from him. Igusadon whispers to Drago a translation, “He says, ‘You despicable cowards! You weaklings! You were supposed to capture these interlopers and enslave them, or kill them if you couldn’t capture them! And yet you not only let them get away, but you allowed them to track you back to your village! Are you that stupid! Couldn’t you have tried to ambush them on the stairway up the cliff! You cretins! And now you come whining to me! Who’s in charge now! Who!”

Deafening silence from the gnolls.

“You! Over there. Come before me! Yes you!” King Stronghoen points to one of the stronger and unwounded gnolls slouching among those in the assembly. The gnolls whimpers and then gulps, but then straightens himself – a little – and makes his way to the front of the throng to stand before King Stronghoen.

“What is your name cur!” demands the minotaur king.

“Kaggur, Your Majest,” responds the gnoll leader.

“Kaggur, how did this happen?”

“My King, we found them in the abandoned house just like the lizardfolk told us. They were expecting us, but even still we drove them all inside with our archers. We swarmed into the building but they were too strong. They are not just a band of human adventurers my king, but elven lords with a dwarven army! There are elvish wizards among them too and at least one powerful human priest. We had to retreat before they killed us all!”

“And yet you sent no one to warn me of these elven lords and their dwarven army? They were so much larger than the small band we were told about? And you allowed them to follow you? And you didn’t ambush them on the face of the cliff? And you are such weaklings you can’t even defend your own village but you expect me to fight for you?”

“My King, I was not in command then! It was not my fault! It was Fekkur! Fekkur was in charge!”

“And where is Fekkur now?”

“He… uh… he is dead Your Majest. He died defending the village.”

“I see,” says King Stronghoen more quietly. “And so someone else must then be accountable for his failure. I think it will be…” King Stronghoen reaches out for the gnoll.

“N…no… My King!” barks the gnoll as he tries futilely to back away.

King Stronghoen grasps the gnoll’s head in both hands and wrenches it quickly. With a loud snap, the gnoll’s head is twisted front to back until it is facing the assembly with its tongue lolling out and its eyes wide in fear. The gnoll warriors, bitches, and cubs collectively flinch and gasp. King Stronghoen drops the dead gnoll onto the carpet with a sickening thud.

“Now that your gross incompetence has been answered for, who will step forward to take command of this wretched pack of mongrels?”

Drago gasps as well but tries to remain inconspicuous.

“Now that your gross incompetence has been answered for, who will step forward to take command of this wretched pack of mongrels?”

“You!” King Stronghoen actually shoves his way through the gnolls and grabs one of the unwounded warriors. “You’ll do! What’s your name runt?”

“H…h…h…hu…Hurrurr, You Majest.”

King Stronghoen sneers and mimics the gnoll’s stutter, “Well, Hur…Hur…Hur. Hurrur, I now appoint you the new chieftain of the Lickspittle Tribe. Do you accept your appointment?”

“Your Majest, please, I am unworthy of such a – grrk!”

King Stronghoen grabs Hurrurr by the neck with his left hand and with his right hand grasps Hurrur’s muzzle forces him to nod his acceptance. Then he slams the hapless gnoll to the floor. “Don’t be so humble. Thank you for taking up the post I have graciously appointed to you. You may now lick my hooves clean while I instruct you all on what will happen next.”

King Stronghoen looks around and begins to address the rest of the tribe as their new chieftain anxiously laps at his grimy hooves. “Your leaders have failed you! You were once a tribe of mighty warriors! Now you are nothing but the Lickspittle Tribe, come to beg scraps at my table since you have lost the feast that I had provided for you by pointing you in the direction of new slaves and booty. Will you remain as beggars or would you again earn the right to be called mighty hunters!”

King Stronghoen is greeted by some desultory barks of affirmation. He repeats himself even louder, “I said: Would you earn the right to once again be called mighty hunters!”

This time the gnoll warriors and their bitches roar back, “Yes!”

“Really? I don’t believe you. Do you really wish to earn the right to once again be mighty hunters and warriors in my eyes!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” howl the gnolls.

“Show me you mean it! Show me you are my warriors and not simply more slaves to clog up my palace! Are you my warriors!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Now all of the gnolls, even the cubs, are howling, laughing, and leaping about.

“Have you had enough of the human pestilence?! Have you had enough of their defiance?! Have you had enough of them withholding the best lands, hording their gems and gold, their cattle and grain while you starve in the wilderness?! Have you had enough of their murderous rampages?! The humans have everything, but when they raid they don’t just take what they need, food or a few slaves. No! They take everything! They kill all they find! Even your bitches and cubs are not spared! They kill them or run them off to die in the wilderness! And they burn your villages whenever and wherever they find them! It is time to take what should be ours! It is time to burn their villages to the ground! It is time to enslave or murder all who resist! It is time we called all the clans, and all the tribes and do what should have been done millennia ago! Death to all humans! Death to all humans! Death to all humans!”

The assembled gnolls, including the palace guard, all begin chanting in unison with King Stronghoen. Even Igusadon joins in the chant, “Death to all humans! Death to all humans! Death to all humans!”

Drago smiles and softly parodies their chant, “Death to the mammals, death to the mammals,” as he reflects upon how well his plan is going to thin the gnoll pack. His human comrades are strong indeed, strong indeed.

Igusadon alone overhears Drago and gives him a sly look and a chuckle. He also starts chanting “Death to all mammals!” but Drago is worried that he does so a little too earnestly. Igusadon is very much a loyal follower of G’ruk.

King Stronghoen holds his hands up and signals for the throng to quiet down. He begins again, and again Igusadon whispers a translation, “You say they were dwarves and humans! Doubtless they were from Melkot then. We will get to them, but first let us clear the riffraff from our front gates. We will begin the cleansing with these Deathwalkers. Their usefulness is at an end. They have long since stopped paying their proper tribute, and I see no reason they should be allowed to stay here any longer – except as slaves.” The king kicks away the gnoll chieftain at his feet.

“Get up you! I will allow your bitches and cubs to camp on the front lawn. There is no room in the palace. Do not harm the trees! Only collect what fruit from them is allowed to you. Bitterbark here,” he indicates the major-domo, “will tell you how much you can collect and from what trees. For no reason are you to go down into the city. That is forbidden and any who do will be killed in the most entertaining manner I can think of! Is that understood?”

“Oh yes Your Majest,” says Chief Hurrur. “You are most gracious.”

King Stronghoen sneers at the cringing gnoll chieftain and then continues, “Now, as for you and your warriors, you will go rally the other gnoll tribes, and perhaps certain others who may wish to join our cause. Tell them that I shall march upon the weak human kingdoms that have been doing nothing but devour each other for the past few years. Tell them that the former lands of the Sea Princes are now ripe for the plucking and now is our time if they will take the opportunity. Tell them that if they rally under my banner they will enjoy the spoils of empire!” This last part is a shout, and Chief Hurrur leaps to his feet and leads the other gnolls in gleefully cheering King Stronghoen.

“Bitterbark, take them out of here and find a place for them to camp. Then see Grassus and make sure they receive whatever food they may need – but not too much. They haven’t done anything worth spoiling them for. Then take Chief Hurrur to the Office of the Guard and make plans and preparations for rallying the clans.”

“Yes my liege,” replies the major-domo.

Igusadon whispers, “It is time to go I think.” He motions Drago to follow him quietly out of the room through the hall to the right of the door through which they entered.

Just then, King Stronghoen shouts, “You two! You scaly slinkers! Get over here!”

Drago holds his head high but follows Igusadon obediently.

Igusadon stops and turns to face the king. “Your Majest, we did not wish to disturb you.”

Drago holds his head high but follows Igusadon obediently over to speak with King Stronghoen.

King Stronghoen looks appraisingly at the two lizardfolk. Close up, Drago realizes that King Stronghoen’s teeth are predator sharp. Whatever these minotaurs are, they are not merely half-human half-bulls, but something far more monstrous.

“You I recognize,” he says to Igusadon, “but who is this?”

Igusadon bows and says, “Your Majest, this is Drago. He is of the Malarat tribe and just joined us recently.”

“Really? Is he the one who ratted out his former friends after he joined you?”

“Uh…well…It’s more that…” stammers Igusadon.

“Shut up!” bellows King Stronghoen. “Let this… Drago… speak for himself! Well, you scaly slinker, are you the one who came with the humans and then left them to join your shaman?”

Drago straightens his spine yet more and without any submissiveness says, “Yes, Your Majest, I am. I was hoping your great warriors would kill them all. I am sorry they did not. All humans are vile wretched creatures, not fit to lick your spittle.”

“Haw, haw, haw! I like you, you little slinker!” He slaps Drago on the back and it is all Drago can do to keep standing. If it weren’t for his thick scales he knows that would have left a nasty bruise.

“Come Drago. Join me for dinner. It should be done soon.” He throws his left arm around Drago in a comradely way and steers him towards the hall leading off to the southeast side of the palace.

Igusadon says, “Oh thank you Your Majesty, but we would not dream of imposing…”

King Stronghoen snorts. “You were not invited. Go find your own food. They’re stewing puppy chow in the kitchens. Maybe there’s enough for you.” He nods towards the double-doors, as presumably the kitchen lies in that direction.

King Stronghoen then heads out, Drago grasped tightly but not quite painfully, in his arm. Igusadon, speechless, is left behind. As Drago looks back helplessly, dragged along by the minotaur king, he notices that some human slaves have come into the throne room at the direction of Bitterbark, the major-domo. They are Amedi slaves, perhaps they were once Deathwalkers. They unceremoniously pick up the corpse of the gnoll that King Stronghoen killed by its arms and legs and carry it back out through the double-doors. Perhaps to the kitchens?

Drago breathes an inward sigh of relief to still be alive. If there is anyone who knows tale of his ancestors in Huvat Vex, it is King Stronghoen. Drago hopes this new alliance of power will shed light upon his quest. Outwardly, Drago only says, “Thank you, Your Majest, I would be pleased to be your guest.”

King Stronghoen takes Drago into a hall running north to south. At the southern end of the hall is a massive window through which pours the light of the strange blue sun. Three exquisite caryatids, columns carved as sculptures, support the lintel above the massive window. The caryatids are 8 feet tall and carved out of white marble in the form of breathtakingly beautiful nude women. The caryatids stand 3 feet off the floor on pedestals. Aside from the at there are four golden doors in the hall, two on the eastern side and two on the western side. King Stronghoen turns left and opens the northwest door.

Inside is a well lit room that is the private chamber of the King of the Beast Men. It is about 30’ by 35’ with a hall leading off to the north. The ceiling high above has skylights that let in six beams of light into the chamber. The room is furnished with several marble and cushioned benches, a pile of luxurious pillows and silk sheets forming a bed, and several valuable statues. Each statue depicts a Thracian hero. There are three female minotaurs, or cows, here tending to the room and cooking for the king. Currently a human female carcass is on the spit. The largest of the three cows is mostly white with large black spots. She watches over two minotaur calves who are running around the room playing their favorite game of head-butting the wall.

King Stronghoen finally lets Drago. He says to the cows, “This is Drago, he will be joining us for dinner – as my guest. Drago, those two are my sons, Strongbach and Hetstrong. You two!” His bellow finally gets the attention of the two rampaging calves. “This is my guest. His name is Drago. You will treat him well.” The two calves nod and then go back to butting the wall and each other. King Stronghoen doesn’t bother to introduce the cowss and pays them no more notice. He seats himself on a bench and indicates that Drago should sit nearby. One of the cows, a curvy cream colored heifer, brings them mugs and pours them a dark red wine from a jug that she leaves for them on a side table.

King Stronghoen takes up his mug and waits for Drago to do the same. “To the death of the humans, the rule of the Beast Man!” he toasts.

Drago raises his cup and agrees, “To the death of the humans and the rule of the Beast Men!” After tasting the wine, Drago asks, “Your Majest, may I ask how long the noble Minotaurs have ruled Huvat Vex?”

King Stronghoen replies, “We have ruled for a thousand years, ever since we threw off the chains of our oppressors.” He waves to the Thracian statues around the room to indicate the human masters of the beast-men a millennia ago.

“Now, I have questions for you. Who are these people you came with? Why did they come here? Why did you come with them? And why did you leave them to join G’ruk?”

Drago nods at the Beast King’s response and questions, then sips his wine as he gathers his thoughts. “Your Majest, the humans and elves came here at the request of the Lion Throne to destroy the Deathwalkers who have been causing havoc in Westkeep and throughout the swamps. The dwarves came from Melkot, as you rightfully guessed, at the request of the humans. Kaggur greatly exaggerated their numbers, to save face no doubt. You did right to kill him. There are less than ten Keolanders and no more than 20 dwarves, perhaps less by now.”

Drago smiles, takes another sip of wine, and then finishes, “I came here for two reasons, Your Majest, the first is at the request of Chief Rahk of the Malarat, to kill the slinker G’ruk after I learn all I can from him and then take his place as the leader of the lizardfolk. Plus I came to find my great grandfather Kopep, a copper dragon who is said to have come from around here someplace. Have you heard of him?” Drago cocks his head and looks at the king inquisitively.

King Stronghoen pauses with his mug to his bovine lips. Then he roars with laughter, startling the cows and calves. He snorts and then drains his mug in one gulp, immediately after filling it to the brim from the jug. Chuckling more softly he says, “You are a bold one Drago! I like that! Lucky for you, or I would twist your head off right here and now.” This last part is delivered in a low ominous rumble. Then he laughs again. “But I could care less about who rules the lizardfolk, as long as whoever it is answers to me and is trustworthy. Now G’ruk, him I don’t trust; but why should I trust you if you manage this little coup?”

Drago chuckles as well. “My head is yours to twist off as you please, Your Majest, but you have good reason to not trust the slinker G’ruk. He wants to kill off everyone who is not reptilian and only bides his time before he tries to devour the gnolls. As for trust… if you help me kill G’ruk, both I and Chief Rahk of the Malarat would owe you a great debt of gratitude.” Drago takes another sip of wine.