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.”

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.

When Aramek finishes his nap, Drago walks up to him and asks, “Master Sorcerer, what might be the power word to disguise myself?”

Aramek gets a thoughtful look and says, “Master Drago, since you are only now discovering your powers, it will be necessary for us to have a more lengthy conversation at some point, but in the mean time, I will give you some simple invocations. It’s important that you learn to control them, which means meditation and resolution. To disguise oneself, say quietly but firmly to yourself: Iluziighu [iluziiĝu], which literally means to become an illusion.

"Thank you gracious Master." Wondering if it works, Drago repeats the magic word and wonders what might happen.

Drago appears as the tall blond haired blue eyed man that he appeared to be at the gate the day before.

Aramek smiles, and claps Drago on the shoulder. “Well done, sir, well done indeed! You do seem to have a natural aptitude for spellwork.”

Looking mostly at Adelina as he begins to speak, “Master Sorcerer, when we were all playing in the river by the outpost, another strange thing happened. Lady Newt here told me that somehow I sent her a message on the wind. I didn’t realize it and I didn’t even hear it, but when I got out of the river, Chief Rahk stopped me on the bank.”

Drago stops, takes a breath, and looks from one to another. “He told me that long ago a copper colored reptile lived with our people and he had hatchlings. Ever since then, his descendants occasionally and spontaneously are gifted with magic. He said the village elders believe my ancestor Kopep was a copper dragon.

“Master Sorcerer, what might be the power word for sending a message on the wind?”

“Keep in mind,” Aramek begins, “that this spell has limited distance, for you about 100′ and you must be able to point at the person you wish to communicate with. They will also be able to respond back to you.

“So, you will look at the targeted person, point your finger, err claw, at the person and then whisper: Sendu Mesaghon [Sendu Mesaĝon] — then you can begin your message. The ability, once you invoke it, will last about 10 minutes. For now you will only be able to target one person per spell, but as you learn, you’ll be able to send messages to more and more people simultaneously.”

Also, after Aramek teaches this spell to Drago they will notice that Newt has left the room. I am going to assume that the conversation actually takes longer than what is presented above and that she is gone at least 5 minutes. She slipped out shortly after Drago began explaining about sending a message to her.

In a playful mood, blond Drago points his human finger at a scrawny human at the far end of the barracks and whispers, “Sendu Mesaghon — Hey there big guy….”

As expected, the member of the Guard is quite startled and begins looking around.

It is then that Aramek and Drago notice that Newt is nowhere in sight.

“Newt… Where’s Newt? Can she get into much trouble in this palace? Who’s more at risk? She or everyone else,” blond Drago grunts. “Should we follow her?” he says to Aramek, voicing his own thoughts.

Aramek looks around and the smile forming as Drago startles the member of the Guard disappears instantly.

“We have no idea what evils may be hiding out here in the palace. After all the Brotherhood managed to send in assassins, which was the impetus for us to go into the swamp in the first place.

“Drago, we need to find her immediately. I suggest we split up so we can cover more ground. I’m not sure how long your disguise will last, but stay with it for now.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Drago hisses in Draconic. Still, Drago puts the cloak on again but leaves his pretty human face exposed. “Meet you back here if not out there?”

Aramek nods to Drago, truns and leaves the barracks at a run.

Half startled, Drago jogs off in a different direction to look for the hatchling.

Aramek and Drago go their separate ways and search all around the courtyard but neither of them see her in the courtyard. Here’s the layout of the keep:

Aside from the palace and its various towers and wings, within the walls of the keep are the barracks for the town watch, as well as the paladins and knights who guard the keep itself; stables for the horses; granaries; and also sheds for the blacksmiths, bowyers, armor-smiths, weapon-smiths, carpenters, and other craftsmen. In the middle of it all is a large courtyard where the well is located and the parade grounds for the men-at-arms where they can drill and engage in weapons practice. Now that the sun is setting it is relatively calm and quiet. The servants are mainly in the kitchens preparing for supper and setting up the trestle tables and benches in the great hall.

Drago let’s loose with a long quiet slur at his ineptitude in Draconic. Since Newt cannot be found in the inner courtyard. He makes a loop around the the keep, but Drago makes sure he stays in the palace where he is “safe.”

When his spell expires, he quickly says “Iluziighu” to go back to blond Drago as he looks for the conniving hatchling.

Drago sees an open door to the palace – it is the servant’s entrance. He ducks inside and looks around to see if perhaps Newt was inside. He sees a few servants and asks if they have seen a young girl outfitted like a guardsman, but they just shake their heads and return to their business. Finally, Drago comes to the door to an inner courtyard. It is the Western Garden of the palace. He can see walkways winding among the flowerbeds and trees, and marble benches and statuary.

Drago looks inside and decides to have a look around. He does not call out but uses his senses to detect sound and smells. After a few moments he sees that no one else is there, but then he hears a rustling from off the path among the hollies there. Then the door to the garden slams shut, though there is no one in sight who could have done it. After a moment Drago, hears a soft sibilant voice saying to him, “I don’t recall seeing you here before. Who are you stranger?” Still there is no one and nothing in sight, except the magnolias and hollies.

Willing himself to look normal with his green scaly head exposed he says, “I am Drago, guest of the Prince and emissary of the lizard folk. Who are you, my new invisible friend?”

“Ah, one of the lizardfolk! You must be Drago. I was told about you. I too am a guest of the Prince. Actually, I am lending my services to the Heironeans. My name is Lady Sauraa.” The enchanting voice of this unseen lady seems to come from all around, but Drago still sees no one among the trees nor shrubs nor on the pathways.

“What do you think of these humans, Drago?”

Drago blinks at the voice around him, “They mean well, milady.”

From somewhere nearby, though still unseen, Lady Sauraa laughs. It is a sound that cheers Drago’s heart for some inexplicable reason. “Yes, they do mean well despite all appearances to the contrary. I hope you have better fortune than the last emissary who came here, Father Gar. Just remember that those who serve the Lion Throne do mean well, even if some of their methods at times seem overbearing or perhaps mistaken. There is much that you lizardfolk could learn from them, I think. There is more to this world than just nesting and bare survival. But you strike me as one who has already come to suspect that. You are no ordinary lizardfolk to change your appearance on a whim. But that is a riddle I will leave for myself to while away the days here. It has been good talking to you, Drago.”

The door to the garden suddenly opens again, as does another door on the far side. Drago feels a soft kiss on his forehead and feels a powerful presence moving away down the path, stirring the dust in its wake. Then the far door closes again, though the one near Drago stands open still.

When Drago leaves the garden and then the palace, he sees that Aramek has found Newt. They are over by the entrance to the keep.

“There you are, my little hatchling,” whispers Drago’s voice in Newt’s ear as she walks back across the courtyard with Aramek as the sun sets. She looks and sees Drago by the servant’s entrance to the palace, with his hood back over his face, out of which his snout is sticking and pointing a claw in her direction. He had been practicing what Aramek taught him and now seems to have control over his power to send messages.

“Yes, here I am,” Newt whispers back, “a hatchling that everyone still believes is ready to be snatched up and eaten.” Newt is remembering how Chief Rahk had described her to Sir Ragnbjorn some time ago. “No need to worry. I was never in danger and Sir Snoop sniffed me out quickly enough.”

“Sir Aramek, I suppose we should be off to supper?”

Aramek finds a servant to lead him to the hall where Indranil and Lorindel share a room, and where Fingol and Drago have each been given a room. He finds that Fingol is not in his room, but then he hears people speaking in the next room over and it sounds like the Marinus Brothers and Fingol, and so knocks at that door.

Indranil gets up, unlocks the door and opens in a crack peering out. Seeing Aramek he opens it widely with a grin and stepping to the side says, “Ah Good Aramek! Please come in, we would like to talk to you.” After Aramek enters Indranil looks both ways down the corridor and seeing no one, closes the door and re-locks it.

“Guardsman Aramek, thank you for coming so quickly.” Fingol says in a low voice “I know you have important personal matters to deal with, and that makes this all the more appreciated.

“I called you here because we have a question only a sorcerer can answer. Drago, our companion from the Malarat tribe evidenced magical ability. He claims sorcery runs in his family and can come on suddenly. In a word, he claims that he has no knowledge or training in sorcery, and that this manifestation today was his first clue that he might have the gift. If this is true, he will need some guidance in the development and control of his gift. We were hoping you might serve as his mentor.

“It is also possible that he claims ignorance for some other purpose… which I cannot guess at… If that is the case, then we would need to know that as well. You have shown a good understanding of arcane magic. I think you could figure out whether he is playing dumb or not. Perhaps not right away, but over time. We were hoping you might help with that also.”

Indranil has been nodding along with Fingol. He then adds continuing in Elvish as they have been, “Aramek in essence we need your help to figure out if Drago is being honest with us about his magical abilities..

“If he is truly as unaware of his powers as he claims to be then he is a danger to himself and to us until he develops understanding and control over them and will need a trusted mentor to help guide him. However, if he is being deceptive with us to keep his powers and mission hidden then we need to know that too.

“While we understand that Drago is Chief Rahk’s envoy we suspect he is also covertly acting as Chief Rahk’s spy with the mission. We think Drago has been tasked to find out what became of G’ruk and his followers and whether the Deathwalkers pose any further threat to the Malarat. Whatever other peculiarities Drago may have, we believe him to be acting as Chief Rahk’s eyes and ears and perhaps even hands and tail on this mission.”

“We believe it important to the safety of this mission to understand his motivations on this forthcoming mission.”

Aramek looks at all assembled, then back at Fingol.

“Sir Fingol, your concern is appreciated. In fact I was able to give Master Parwyn the herbs and plants that you so kindly helped me collect and he was most appreciative. Further, I was able to tell him of the fate of his son and the kindness of his response to me has left me deeply touched. All is well.

“As to Drago…” and, looking at Indranil, Aramek takes a breath. “I don’t know anything about him beyond what we’ve all observed. So I am no more certain of his motives than any of you, good sirs. And you do me a great honor by even considering that I might prove an able mentor for him, should he be as he claims.

“I’m afraid that I am probably the most naive of us all when it comes to sensing peoples motives – Father Gar being the most obvious example – but I believe I am learning to be a bit more cautious and observant.

“I will try to become better acquainted with Drago to see whether I can ascertain his honesty. And if I can help him at all regarding his magical abilities, I will try to.

“As to his being a spy for Chief Rahk, of that I have no doubt, although I’m going to try to think of him as an observer on behalf of our ally.”

Aramek smiles.

Fingols replies, “If you will serve as his mentor for now, the rest may work itself out. I am thinking of the time you and I talked of herbs and it became apparent how much more you knew of them… I was thinking the same thing may work itself out in this. That Drago may show himself to know more than he lets on… or not.

“Its my hope and expectation that he is what he claims… a new sorcerer in need of direction. And I think you have shown that you know your craft well. I don’t know if you want an apprentice, and the decision would be yours alone. Still it would appear that one has found you. There’s only to accept his request, or deny it.”

“Sir Fingol, your confidence in me does me great honor and I will accept the charge of working with Drago. And we shall all see how things unfold,” and with this, Aramek bows to Sir Fingol.

“Keep a watchful eye,” advises Lorindel, “but do keep it objective.”

Indranil nods his agreement.

Fingol takes Aramek across the hall and knocks on Drago’s door. When Drago answers he says, “Drago, you had said you wanted to see Guardsman Aramek. And to ask him for advice in controlling your new found powers. Fortunately, he is free to meet with you and consider your request.”

Aramek looks at Drago and nods politely, awaiting his response.

Drago bobs with appreciation, In Common, Drago says, “Master Sorcerer, I would be deeply honored if you would guide me during my draconic awakening. I noticed your Words of Power and wonder if they can help me learn to control what appears to have begun.”

Now when Fingol and Indranil returned they overheard Drago and Lorindel talking about sending messages and then:

“Greetings Sir Jankin, Sir Lorindel, and Drago. Talking shop?” asks Indranil.

“Hello, everyone. Has anyone found where they keep the ale?”

“No such luck,” sighs Lorindel. “Remember, no R&R,” he says sheepishly glancing towards his brother.

Drago grunts his agreement and his hood falls back off his head, “Meat too.”

“I’ll see what they might have salted away,” calls back Jankin as he heads out.

Indranil eyes widen slightly. He looks at Fingol with a slight grimace, then with a wink at Fingol he turns to Drago and says, “Would that be raw or cooked?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Drago bows respectfully. “If the Prince has any who have desecrated our ancestral mounds, they will do.” It is impossible to tell if he is joking or not.

Indranil looks vaguely irritated by Drago’s response, “Drago, I suspect you might have to reset your dietary expectations if you plan to remain with us. Humans do not eat their enemies nor find such talk tasteful. You are not so far from the egg not to know that so I caution you to watch your tongue.”

GM: At this point the argument begins – note that Indranil has Favored Enemy Reptilians and so he can’t possibly be ignorant of the fact that lizardfolk never let the meat of their dead enemies go to waste. So he should have known where joking about meat with a lizardfolk would lead. As GM I can chalk this up to Indranil having reptilians as favored enemy because he is ultra-wary of them and even feels dislike of them and is thus goading Drago deliberately.

In any case, Drago’s responses have been spot on for the role that Don is playing.

What does stretch credibility is that Fingol the supposed diplomat did not speak up to defuse this as Fingol knows that Drago is Chief Rahk’s emissary. Drago also has very good reasons indeed to feel a life-debt to Newt. Moreso in fact, since he would have become an undead if she had not risked her life to rescue him. This is in keeping with their culture as far as I the GM is concerned. So it is discourteous of Indranil to be taking the tack he is with Drago.

Also, you would not leave Drago while going off to get food and drink for yourselves – that’s discourteous too. Jankin at least would say something even if Fingol did not. At any rate, I decided that Jankin would already have provided for such and so amended that above.

And so, a bit of dialogue that got shunted aside I am going to put at the end like this:

Then turning to Drago, Lorindel instructs, “I recommend you fall in
line if you are to be considered a member of this party. Our mission
is simply too great. If you want to be trusted, you must earn it. Live
by your word or face the wrathful consequences.”

Indranil says, “Brother, you words are wise and I pay them heed. I do
find these punishments… extreme and would prefer other means.

GM: But think about this – would the three of you (Fingol, Lorindel, and
Indranil) really leave Drago with Jankin or by himself at this point?
And would you really say in front of him that you want to go and talk
behind his back about why you don’t trust him? That doesn’t make
sense. At the very least it would come across as very rude to Chief
Rahk’s emissary. So let’s skip this and likewise I will overrule
Drago’s response to it.

Now then to get back to the earliest thread of the conversation that
got shunted aside but which I will put here:

“Well, I see you are back to your more accustomed face. Have you
determined how it was changed earlier?” Fingol asks trying to change
the subject.

“Actually we were discussing some of the methods we employ to transmit
messages over great distances,” Lorindel explains. “I was letting
Drago know that we could contact Chief Rahk despite the long
distances.”

Drago replies, “Well, right before you arrived, these fine gentlemen
informed me that your human sorcerers can do so. Even animals can do
so. Then the thought occurred to me that perhaps a sorcerer can help
me learn to control what is happening to me. Is that nice human,
Aramek, around?”

Just then Jankin returns and says, “Food and drink are on the way. And
yes, we had been discussing how Drago could get a message to Chief
Rahk and back in order to corroborate his story about his rather
interesting family tree and hidden talents.”

Drago grunts his appreciation for the food, ale and Sir Jankin.

“I don’t think it is important to corroborate anyone’s story.” Fingol interjects “I am willing to take your word, until it is proven false. I do think it would behoove all of us if we understood your powers. Or at least were assured they are under your control. To that end, I would be happy to try to help you contact Chief Rahk. There are limitations on what I can accomplish, however. The clerics of Heironeous may be able to help you with more powerful magics.

With his head bowed submissively Drago hisses in Draconic, “A sorcerer to guide me would be most helpful.”

“That would be up to Guardsman Aramek, I suppose.” shrugs Fingol.

Drago’s head bobs happily, “Can you please send for him?”

“Well, maybe later I can take Drago over to the barracks and see if we
can find this Aramek,” offers Jankin.

“I believe Guardsman Aramek is dealing with a personal issue.” Fingol says “But I believe he’ll be summoned to the Keep on other business soon enough. So you shouldn’t have to wait long.”

Just then a harried looking middle-aged courtier approaches. Lorindel
recognizes him as Liam the Steward. “Good sirs, I have come to see
that our esteemed guest, Drago, is taken to his quarters. You are all
being put in the same wing, so you can all follow me and put your
things away and change. In fact, Sir Fingol, Sir Indranil, and Sir
Lorindel, you are being given the same rooms that you had before. I
think you will find that things are more secure here at the palace
than during your last stay.” Liam then leads the way to the guest rooms.

“Darn!” thinks Fingol, “I could really use more trail bars!”

Drago follows all orders submissively. He knows he is the bottom of this clutch.

Fireseek 23

Once inside the foyer of the palace, Sir Jankin says, “The Prince asked me to have you all brought up to his solar for a debriefing.”

“Very well,” says Ragnbjorn, “but first there is something we need to get straightened out first.” He then steps over to Drago and says, “Drago, please remove your cloak.”

When Drago does so, they all see that once again he is a lizardfolk warrior.

Ragnbjorn asks, “Drago, we need to know what is going on with you before I can in good conscience bring you before Prince Prospero. How is it that you made yourself appear to be human?”

Drago respectfully hisses in Draconic, “I did no such thing.”

Ragnbjorn raises his eyebrow, “You didn’t? Well, you certainly appeared to be human when that guard pushed back your hood. Are you seriously claiming that was not your doing?”

Fingol: “You neither resisted the guard as pushed back your hood, nor showed surprise at his reaction. So you must have known or been a party to the deception. Explain it to us, evasiveness is not going to win you the trust you will need to continue as Newt’s self appointed bodyguard.”

Drago blinks and ponders. Finally he says in Draconic, “Sir Ragnbjorn, before we left on your ship, Chief Rahk told me that such is the way with sorcerers and adepts in my family. Their powers appear without aware and without control. At least at first. For myself, I have seen no evidence other than your reactions to me. It is very odd.”

Indranil has taken a step back, pushed his cloak away and placed his hand on his sword’s hilt. His eyes have narrowed and he is slipped into his hyper aware state of readiness.

Fingol holds his arm out between Indranil and Drago. “Peace cousin. Let’s continue to see the Prince. Meanwhile, we’ll have the guard show Drago to a room here in the keep where he can consider how it was we all saw what we saw. Afterall, if his powers are not under his control, he can scarcely expect to be brought before Prince Prospero.”

Ragnbjorn nods, “I agree Fingol. I did notice that the guard reached out rather quickly and Drago’s hands were too wrapped up in his cloak to stop him. I did notice, Drago, that you were a bit surprised that the guard was not surprised. So I do believe you when you say this was not of your conscious doing. Still, we must be careful.”

Ragnbjorn turns to Sir Jankin, “If you will, could you please take Drago as our guest to where he can have something to eat and drink until we have talked to the Prince and quarters have been assigned to him? I know the way to the Prince’s Solar.”

“As you will my lord,” Sir Jankin replies. To Drago, “If you would follow me this way, I’ll see if the kitchen staff can prepare something for you. I have never met one of your folk before and would be happy to keep you company for awhile. I am sure there is much you can teach me about the lizardfolk and the marshes.”

Indranil: “We cannot leave an untrained sorcerer alone in the Palace if we send to one of the guest quarters he needs to be kept under guard by a warded unit or escorted back to the Javan Queen to await our pleasure.”

“I am sure we will be fine, Sir Indranil,” says Jankin with a smile, “I am confident of my ability as a paladin of Heironeous to handle one lone sorcerer. There are also plenty of other knights and clerics about. But if you think my company is not sufficient for Drago, perhaps one of you can be spared from the meeting with the Prince?”

“Hmm,” Ragnbjorn considers, “Sir Lorindel, would you be good enough to keep Chief Rahk’s envoy company?”

“Of course, sir,” says Lorindel.

Indranil bows, “Good Sir Jankin, please excuse my caution. I do not question your capabilities only to note that whoever does guard him needs to be a paladin or cleric themselves skilled in detecting and warding from
magic. We have had recent dealings with evil clerics and sorcerers narrowly escaping with our lives against great odds and to return to Westkeep under martial law. It is uncertain times.”

“No need to apologize,” I would be feeling ill-at-ease as well if I returned from the field to find the city as it is. In fact, I cannot honestly say that I do feel at ease with the present conditions.”

Jankin turns to Drago, “It would be best for your own safety and our own peace of mind if you were escorted until you have been formally introduced to the Prince and the court.”

“I don’t suspect evil.” Fingol jumps in “Please don’t take Sir Indranil’s words as an inference. But to bring one with untrained power before the Prince is a risk that cannot be justified.

“I am sure you will enjoy your time with Drago. There is much to be admired in the Malarat.”

The ever quiet Drago, dizzy from the accusations and the ramifications, finally says in butchered Keolandish, “Please, please, I would be happy to join this kind human, Sir Jankin and our friend Sir Lorindel. I too would not trust me. I too do not trust me.” Then looking at Sir Jankin, “But I trust you. I will tell you all I know.”

Still not feeling terribly safe in this hell hole palace the humans call home, he dons his cape once more as a disguise and walks with Jankin and Lorindel.

As Drago walks away, he appears unusually talkative with Jankin and Lorindel, but the others can’t hear what he is saying over the din.

Switching to Common to more easily express himself and lowering his voice an octave so as not to be overheard, Drago begins, “For me, it all began near the end of our battle to take the ancestral mounds of my people away from Deathwalkers. The wight Relikez paralyzed me and then drained my energy. The hatchling Newt rescued me or surely I would not be with you today. Chief Rahk believes that I was able to cure myself because of my ancestors. Only two days ago, he told me that our village elders believe that I descend from a copper dragon who long ago lived amongst my people. He said there have been many adepts and sorcerers amongst Kopep’s descendants ever since.”

Drago went on and on, hardly pausing to breathe, thankful to express at last what has been bottled inside him these last few days. He told them about the message to Newt that, evidently, he sent on the wind and repeated that he has no knowledge of the magic when it occurs. He only sees the evidence in human words and their faces, which he still cannot read well.

Sir Jankin exclaims, “What a marvelous story! So you are supposedly descended from dragons, or a dragon anyway, and now you find yourself a sorcerer? Is this common among the lizardfolk?”

Drago replies, “No, it is not common among our kind, although adepts and sorcerers are honored for what they can contribute to the tribe.”

Drago, that is quite a revelation,” admits Lorindel. “I have no reason to doubt such an account, and as you quoted Chief Rahk some corroboration can be established.”

After a brief pause, Lorindel says, “I meant no disrespect by that, it’s just that Sir Indranil is very strict on security, understandably, in this detail.”

After walking a few steps in silence, Drago says, “But Chief Rahk is far from here. Can humans send messages on the wind as well?” If they could see his face, they would see a quizzical and curious look. The human world is so much more complicated than he imagined.

“Yes, there are many who have the means to send and recieve messages over long distances,” explains Lorindel. “Some use arcane and divine powers, while others utilize animals and other creatures to relay messages.”

Fingol and Indranil return to the lower hall where Jankin, Lorindel, and Drago are waiting for them. They overhear Drago and Lorindel talking as they come in.

Drago ponders this for a moment and a light goes on in his dimly lit mind and he says softly, “Perhaps a sorcerer can help me learn about myself?”

“I don’t see why not,” responds Lorindel.

Just then Fingol and Indranil return from their meeting with the Prince. Ragnbjorn is no longer with them.

DISCLAIMER: While this was a private encounter between Drago and Newt, there is nothing secret revealed here.

Fireseek 21: an Afternoon Swim

While Drago is swimming with the other lizardfolk in the Javan River across from the ruins of Cypress Hill where Newt was discovered, he looks over to the boat about 90 yards away and sees the girl. His body shivers briefly in the water of his memory of the wight Relikez as he thinks, “You saved me.”

Astonishingly, Newt then doffs the necessary clothing and jumps in to dog paddle over to Drago.

When close, she speaks softly in Draconic to Drago, “I am glad I could help you. We must help each other if we are to be true allies and friends. But tell me, how did you speak to me from afar a moment ago?”

There are no others within hearing distance.

Drago blinks, “I did what? I was only just thinking about you….”

Newt says to Drago, “What? But… I don’t understand. Well the last few days have been full of strange events. Why should this one be different? Anyway, I am indeed glad I could help.”

With that she swims back and joins the others, keeping to the shallower water.

Drago does not have time to respond before Newt swims away. As she goes he thinks, “Oh do swim safe, my little primate. I’ll watch over you.” He trails not far behind her, deciding to go back to the boat too.

This time no message is sent, at least as far as Drago knows or could barely conceive. The power is still uncontrolled,  unaware and sporadic.

Unfortunately, Newt finds that the swimming has worn her out more than expected. She realizes she swam out further than she should have and she didn’t take account of the current. It is all she can do to make it back to shore.

Thankful to be on land again, she walks quietly back upstream to the boat, embarrassed by her inability to swim effectively. There, she rinses again in the river then climbs aboard (on the side closest to shore) to get dressed.

Shortly thereafter Drago, who has been following Newt from a short distance, also gets out of the water and begins to climb aboard after her, but he is intercepted by Chief Rahk. “Come, Drago, I wish to speak with you.”

“Yes, Chief Rahk, I was just thinking about speaking with you as well. Thank you,” Drago hisses with an appropriate submissive posture. “How can I help you?” Continued

WARNING, WARNING, WARNING! The source of Drago’s magick is revealed herein. Do not continue reading if you do not want to know! Leave now!

The lizard man Drago is awakening to the draconic powers of Kopep.

Drago’s Drakonik Kantrips

• Detect Magic (Magio Rivelighu!)
• Disrupt Undead (Disrompu Nemortajhon!)
• Mage’s Hand (Jhetu Sorch-manon!)
• Message (Sendu Mesaghon!)
• Unnerving Gaze (Nemaltrankviliganta Rigardas!)

Drago’s Dragon Powers

• Dragon Claws
• Disguise Self (Kaŝvestu Selfn!)
• Orb of Acid Lesser (Jhetu Malplian Acid-globon!)

Fireseek 21, Common Year 591 – Drakonik Revelations
As Drago follows Newt ashore he is intercepted by Chief Rahk. “Come, Drago, I wish to speak with you.”

“Yes, Chief Rahk, I was just thinking about speaking with you as well. Thank you,” Drago hisses with an appropriate submissive posture. “How can I help you?”

Chief Rahk takes Drago far away from the Javan Queen, to the other side of the ruins of Cypress Hill. He signals several warriors to take up guard position to ensure that they are not disturbed. Then, when he is certain no humans are about he turns to Drago and begins speaking in Draconic.

“Drago, I know that since you were a hatchling you have been restless. You have long felt the need to see what lies beyond our nests and hunting grounds. No, you need not deny it. We elders have long observed this and there is no shame in it, for we also know why you feel it. I will explain why in a moment.

“Now I need someone to go with these ape children for a time. They are valorous. Sir Ragnbjorn and his son and comrades at least have shown themselves to be trustworthy and steadfast allies. We need such allies for I fear that there are many more Deathwalkers out there – perhaps in this lost city of Thracia. And of course the Scarlet Brotherhood may return as well.

“Now you must understand Drago,” continues Chief Rahk, “That this is not an exile but a mission of great importance that I wish to give you. I want you to be our representative among the humans. I want you to go with them, help them find this lost city and learn all you can about what is going on out there. There is no shame in this. You are being sent away only for a time for the good of the tribe. But perhaps this is what you wanted isn’t it? This is your chance to go among them and see a bigger world. So go then with our blessing and for the good of the tribe. Learn all you can and do what you must to help them as long as it does not harm our tribe. Then return to us and we shall discuss all that you have seen and heard, and all that you and they have done.

“Now, before you say whether you will accept this or not, I wish to tell you something more. You may know that many shamans and acolytes and even sorcerers have come from your line, but only the elders know why this is. It was more than just the heroism of that hatchling Newt that saved you. I believe it was more than just luck that you were spared the fate of your comrade Vesk. I think it was the destiny that lies within your blood. For know this, Drago, in ages past our tribe was visited by a strange copper scaled warrior. Kopep was the name he gave us. Kopep stayed with us for a time and helped our tribe during a time of great need. He married, raised hatchlings, and yet never seemed to age. Then one day, he left us. From that time on his descendants have shown themselves to be possessed of a great affinity for magic, and many times their scales have turned copper as they have grown into their power. I believe the same may be happening to you. You have not seen it, but since the battle several of the scales on your back have turned from green to copper. It is the belief of the elders that this Kopep was in fact a dragon. He was perhaps a copper dragon, perhaps from the Tors or the Little Hills. It may be that your wanderlust and the changes that you may soon be undergoing are his legacy. The elders know from past experience with others of your line, as told in our secret tales that you will need time away from the routines of the tribe to explore the world and the power of your bloodline before you will be ready to settle down with us again and contribute your strength to the good of the tribe. So this is another reason why we wish to send you with the ape children.

“Now, Drago, will you leave our tribe for the good of the tribe? Will you undertake this mission and go with these ape children for a time?”

Drago is speechless for a moment at this revelation. He doesn’t know what to say. Then he finds his tongue as he bows deep, “It would be my honor, Chief Rahk, to serve the tribe in this way. I think the magic in my blood is beginning to come forth as well. The hatchling Newt just told me that I sent her a message from a distance, but I know not how I did so.”

Chief Rahk nods, “Ah, so it has already begun. I thank you for accepting this mission. The Malarat thank you. I will inform Sir Ragnbjorn and Sir Fingol that we wish you to join any expedition to this lost city that they seek.”