“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

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.

Morning, Readying 20, 591

Later that morning, Igusadon comes over to Drago and says, “Are you ready to see Huvat Vex, City of Eternal Light?”

Drago energetically jumps up and says, “Yes!”

“Come with me then. Bring your gear. You might have a chance to spar down there with your new sword and shield.”

Igusadon then leads Drago back up to the gnoll guardroom and then to the large rat filled rubble strewn cavern. This time they move deeper into the cavern. Igusadon takes the hood off of an ever-burning torch so they can see. They weave through stalagmites for about 100’ or more and then come to a short stair leading up ten feet. Two Thracian style pillars flank each side of the top of the stairs. Behind the pillars are four gnoll guards and beyond another cavern with a sandy floor. Once again Igusadon gives the password in Common, “[password deleted]” One of the gnolls responds, “Go then into the dark and find the light.”

A well worn track through the sand leads through a cavern 25’ wide by 30’ long and then opens up into a much larger cavern, at least as larger if not larger than the one at the bottom of the stairs. In the dim recesses of the cave to Drago’s left he sees a marble alcove with frescoes and in the center of it a marble sculpture of a man, though he cannot discern the details. What really draws Drago’s attention is the grand marble temple taking up the center of the cavern. It looks to be at least 60’ long and 40’ wide. The lengthwise section of the temple stretches off to Drago’s right. Ahead of him are a set of stairs leading ten feet up into the entrance to the temple. The base of the temple is made of the bedrock of the caves. Around the outside are large sculpture panels with scenes depicting the Thracian deities in combat with demons and sea monsters.

“Follow me closely,” Igusadon says. “There are pit traps all around here under the sand. We know there is one to your left there. There may be others that have not been found, left by the original builders. So be wary and don’t leave the track.”

Igusadon leads Drago to the stairs and then into the temple. Drago sees that the temple has large columns with scroll work in the Ionic design. Huge white marble lintels span across the ceiling, which is a massive piece of marble in a trapezoidal shape. High above carvings of owls and lions are shown chasing each other in a playful fashion.

At the far end of the temple is a ten foot tall statue of a regal woman in long, loose clothing. She bears a shield and spear and is armored with a helm. Igusadon leads Drago down the center of the temple to stand before this goddess. As they do, Drago sees more gnoll guards watching them from the shadows behind the pillars.

“Do not be alarmed,” Igusadon says to Drago in a low voice. “Soon, we will be in Huvat Vex, the City of Eternal Light.”

After standing before the statue for about six seconds Drago suddenly finds himself standing on a circular slab of marble roughly 40’ in diameter in an outdoor clearing surrounded by trees that are somehow growing fist-sized strawberries. Looking down at his feet, Drago sees that he and Igusadon are standing on a 10’ by 10’ checkered section in the middle of the marble slab.

“Quickly, step off the pattern,” says Igusadon. “If you stand in the patterned square for six seconds you will be transported to the statue in the cavern above, and likewise by standing before that statue for six seconds we were able to come here.

He leads Drago to the edge of the slab. Drago now sees that there are six gnolls in the immediate area. They glance up briefly at the two lizardfolk but otherwise ignore them. Two of the gnolls are picking fruit while the other four maintain a watch in the shadows of the trees. The gnolls are armed with longbows and halberds bearing standards with the large face of an enraged bull.

“Come this way,” says Igusadon. “I will show you the glory of Huvat Vex.”

Igusadon leads Drago off the slab of marble and through the strange orchard. Drago gets the strange feeling that the trees themselves are watching them. Then they come out from under the cover of the trees and Drago finds that they are on a plateau roughly 100’ high over an immense stone city that surrounds it. After walking for at least half a mile they come to a rocky ramp that winds down the gentle gradient of the plateau down to the city below. The whole of it, city and plateau are in an immense circular cavern, five miles in diameter. The walls, ceiling and floor of the cavern is rough hewn with immense stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Only near the rough walls hanging up to 100 feet in height, do stalagmites form.

An eternal light, an orb of arcane magical energy, provides and intense and powerful luminosity that almost equals sunlight. However, the orb unlike the sun is blue and creates an unusual hue to those beneath its rays.

The entire cavern is humid and very warm, much like the Hool Marshes in summer time. Off to the right, Drago sees a dark and murky lake that covers three acres and feeds a canal that forms a square perimeter surrounding the city before returning to the lake. This must be the source of the moisture in the cavern.

The low lying one story buildings composing the city seem to be made of stone blocks measuring 10 feet square. Age and moisture have removed all wood, cloth, and animal matter, but the stone city seems eerily preserved, as if it has been suddenly abandoned.

The center of the city, at least the center of that side of it at the bottom of the ramp, is a large rectangular cobblestone plaza encompassing an entire acre. At one end of the plaza to the left of the foot of the ramp is a large domed structure, and at the other end on the right is a large two story civic building. Beyond that building can be seen a large flat roofed building with over ten columns and no walls.

At the end of the plaza opposite the ramp is a ten layered ziggurat of red granite. At the top, which is even with the plateau, are four carven pillars that support a pyramidal roof. Hanging from the ceiling in the space between the pillars are chains and shackles carved from an orange stone. Drago can see the pyramidal tips of two other ziggurats rising above the level of the plateau to his right and left. The one to his right is of blue turquoise, while the one to his left is golden. Behind him is the orchard, so Drago cannot see if there is one in that direction.

“There is indeed another ziggurat,” says Igusadon, guessing what Drago is looking for. “There is a ziggurat for each of the cardinal directions. Before us, the ziggurat of red granite is the Ziggurat of the People. The blue turquoise ziggurat to the south is the Ziggurat of the Moon. In the west is the black obidian Ziggurat of the Earth. To the north is the golden Ziggurat of the Sun. There are stairways to the tops on the eastern sides of the ziggurats. I will show them to you later if time permits, though we must be circumspect. King Stronghoen has not yet permitted anyone to settle in the city, or to meddle with anything below. Still, we have looked, and it is clear that this city was built by none other than the Immortal King.”

“Now come, let us go to the palace.” Igusadon turns Drago away from the ramp and leads him back towards the orchard.

Drago contemplates what he has learned and asks, “What makes you believe the Immortal King built Huvat Vex?” knowing full well the humans believe the same thing.

“Let us not speak of it now. If I can, I will show you things later that will convince you.”

Drago sees that besides the orchard of fruit trees there is a grove of towering oaks in the center of the plateau. They pass the fruit trees surrounding the marble slab. Not far from it, Dargo sees a ten foot diameter clear crystal tube bubbling with water rising up from the ground all the way up into the mists of the ceiling where it disappears from view. They continue on through the grove and Drago sees that there are also ash, maple, willow, and elm trees in addition to the oaks. After a little more than a quarter mile they come to a solid wall of composed of strange twisted trees with dagger like thorns. The trees are about ten feet tall and extending 50 yards in both directions away from a small temple that Igusadon steers them towards.

“The wall is no barrier to us,” Igusadon explains. “It was put there by Shaman G’ruk as part of his bargain with King Stronghoen. Those who do not belong here will find themselves impaled by those trees, but the trees will part for us and for King Stronghoen and his people. Still, let us go through the temple.”

Igusadon waves to a gnoll armed with a short bow hiding in the branches of a tree to their right. He waves them on.

The small temple is made of white marble. It is similar in design to the temple in the cavern from which they came. There is a ten foot long stair on each side that goes up five feet to a building that is 20’ on each side with a roof 15’ overhead supported by massive columns. In the center of the temple is a five-foot diameter well. Looking in as they pass by it, Drago sees that there is water about 15’ below the lip of the well. Within the temple, Drago sees two lizardfolk warriors, another gnoll, and a shaggy humanoid behemoth with the horns of a bull and armed with an enormous double bladed axe. Drago realizes that the latter is a minotaur. The lizardfolk nod at
Drago and Igusadon, while the minotaur and gnoll simply scrutinize them silently as they pass by.

Coming out of the temple and down the steps on the other side, Drago is greeted with two magnificent sites. To his left is an enormous oak tree with patchy bark. The hoary oak looks as though it could easily be over a thousand years old. Surround the giant oak is a 12-foot high stone wall topped with outward pointing spikes and shards of glass. Inside the wall surrounding the tree, a middle-aged woman with graying hair can be seen sunning herself on the lawn. Lying down next to her is a giant lizard the size of a horse with golden scales whose color seems to have lost their luster. She waves to Drago and Igusadon.

“Ignore her,” counsels Igusadon. “She is a dryad and is not our concern. That is our destination ahead, the palace of King Stronghoen.”

The gleaming white marble palace straight ahead of them is a perfectly preserved example of Thracian architecture with gabled roofs, Doric columns and sculptured pediments fashioned of flawless white marble. Statuary depicting human heroes and gods are prominently displayed. Most of the original furnishings have been destroyed or decayed through time and use, but the structure itself is as strong as the day it was built. Flying overhead are five feral looking women with  tattered wings and sharp claws. They screech and spit at the two lizardfolk and then land on the roof on the southeastern roof of the palace to bicker among each other.

“Ignore them,” says Igusadon. “This way,” he says, leading Drago to the courtyard.

The vast courtyard of the palace is tiled in large white marble panels. Flanking the wide staircase leading to the palace itself are two large 10-foot deep pools. The stairs are of similar marble as the tiled floor, and rise 10 feet to the actual palace.

“Now be very careful here, the next guardian is a bit temperamental and not yet used to us lizardfolk. Don’t make any sudden moves, but get your shield in position and be ready to draw your sword in case things don’t go well.”

As Igusadon says this, five huge snake heads rear up out of the pool on their right. Then Drago sees that all five are joined together into one creature. Embedded between the eyes of its central head is a black-star sapphire. The hydra steps out of the pool and its five heads hiss and snap at them.

Drago holds steady. The five heads of the hydra scrutinize the two lizardfolk for a long breathless moment, and then they snort in unison and turn away. The scaly behemoth submerges itself back into the depths of the pool, leaving only its five pairs of eyes watching them from the surface. Igusadon looks visibly relieved and beckons Drago to follow him up the steps into the palace.

The stairs lead up to a portico and beyond that a temple hall 100’ long and 50’ wide, it is roofed but otherwise open to the portico and courtyard. The stonework and statuary in this airy hall are ornately carved and richly decorated with scenes of battle, magic, and the lives of the (human) gods. A massive statue of a bearded, heavily muscled man grasping a pair of crossed thunderbolts in his right hand stands in the western end of the hall (opposite the stairs leading down to the courtyard). The throne the statue sits upon looks as if it is made of solid gold. Halfway down the hall there are double doors to the north and south that also appear to be constructed of gold.

Igusadon leads Drago down the hall and past the doors to approach the  statue. When they come within 20’ of it the sound of thunder is suddenly heard in the distance. “Nice eh?” asks Igusadon with a toothy grin. “The  humans who made this place put a permanent spell upon it. Go ahead, touch  the throne and see what happens.”

A little nervous, Drago walks forward to touch the throne as instructed. Igusadon chuckles and slaps him on the back after he recoils from the electric shock he receives from touching the chair. “Another little trick the humans left. We like to show this to all the newcomers don’t here, so don’t take it amiss. Anyway, let’s go. It is time you meet King Stronghoen.”

Drago smiles sheepishly in return and follows Igusadon without further comment. He is looking forward to meeting this king of Thracia and Huvat Vex.

Pre-dawn, Readying 20, 591

Drago and his team search for treasure and clues to the Immortal King. Humans who venture here may be bled and fed to the Thing That Should Not Be.

The next morning, Shaman G’ruk calls Drago in to see him in his tent. Igusadon, Iguanosuth, and Kopusuth are already there when he arrives. They are all armed and ready. Nearby, are the two Deathwalkers. They have been washed and bandaged and are now conscious, though bound. They say nothing and only stare grimly into the distance.

“Drago, you are fast earning my trust. I have another vital task for you to perform. Come with me, all of you, and bring the slaves.”

All of them exit the tent. Iguanosuth leads the bound slaves by a rope. They come to the edge of the river. G’ruk points out the dark cavern out of which the river issues and says, “There is a treasure vault located by a pool at the end of that cavern. You must swim to it, and under the spider web that blocks the cavern. We do feed the giant spider there, but not this time. These slaves are food for something else. In the pool is a guardian beast. It has already killed five of our warriors and prevented us from discovering what is in that treasure vault. It may be a clue to the whereabouts of the Immortal King, or to the means to awaken him. I have learned that if we ‘cast the blood of man upon the troubled waters’ we will be able pacify the guardian beast long enough to get to the vault. Here you have two slaves, one to pacify the beast so you can get into the vault, and another to pacify him once more, if necessary, when you leave. And this time, Drago, I think it should be you who does the offering. Take them with you, make sure they don’t drown. You only need swim underwater to slip beneath the spider’s web. When you get to the pool, choose one, draw blood, and push him into the center of the pool and then make your way to the vault. It must be you, Drago, who does this. You must show us that you will do what needs to be done to awaken the Immortal King.”

Igusadon replies, “It shall be as you say. Come Drago, let us find this vault and see what there is to see, and find what we need to realize our destiny.”

Iguanosuth pushes the bound slaves into the river and follows after. They gasp at the cold shock of the water and because their hands are bound behind them they must kick fiercely to stay afloat. Iguanosuth enters the water and tugs the line holding the captives. Igusadon motions for Drago to gather his weapons and gear and enter the water next.

Drago has no compunction about sacrificing the mutual enemies of the Malarat and Keolanders to aid his mission to find the Immortal King. Drago smiles with big teeth at this task and obeys happily.

The entrance to the mouth of the cavern out of which the underground river runs is about 40’ away from the riverbank. The tunnel itself is about 10’ and they are able to swim against the current into the darkness with their heads out of the water. Igusadon holds up an ever-burning torch to lead them. Fortunately the magical light cannot be extinguished by water. They swim about 70’ when the cavern widens into rocky banks on either side of the river. Here an immense spider web stretches across the cavern just above the waters. It is connected to the walls and ceilings and even the rocks on the sandy banks on either side of this section of the cavern. Drago looks up and sees that connected to the ceiling is a large leather sack of spider silk, quivering and pulsing as though whatever is inside is struggling to escape. Then in a recess in the ceiling near the sack Drago sees in the dim light of the ever-burning torch a huge monstrous spider, with a body larger than a horse. The humans groan in dismay when they see it.

Igusadon snaps at them in broken Common, “Not for them… for something else. Hold breath!” With that, Igusadon dives under the waters and begins swimming beneath the web.

The others follow, Iguanosuth tugging the line and dragging the Deathwalkers beneath with him. They surface some 15’ beyond the web, the Deathwalkers coughing and sputtering as they are towed behind the lizardfolk. Some 40’ beyond the web, the cavern curves to the left and on the left side is a small strip of damp earth, about 5’ wide and 30’ long. Igusadon leads them to it and they leave the river. This is a relief as it was hard going swimming against the current of the river. It seemed that for every two feet they swam they were pushed back by one.

Igusadon moves to the cavern wall and pushes against it. A section of the wall moves back and then slides aside revealing a narrow tunnel. At just that moment a loud splash is heard from upriver, as though something very large had burst to the surface.

“Quick, Drago! Offer the first sacrifice!” shouts Igusadon. Iguanosuth cuts the line holding the captives, though their hands are still bound. He pushes one of them over to Drago.

“Cut him and throw him to the beast!” Kopusuth hisses.

Soundtrack: The Thing That Should Not Be by Metallica

At that moment, two large tentacles snake out of the darkness of the cavern beyond and begin reaching out for the group gathered on the riverbank. In the shadowy light cast by the torch the shape of more tentacles can be seen waving in the darkness beyond and in their midst the glint of a large and very malevolent eye.

The Deathwalkers had been stoic up to this point, though they expressed dismay at the sight of the monstrous spider. The sight of this new monstrosity takes them far past their breaking point. The two began crying, howling, and finally they break down into hysteria fueled laughter as the final bits and pieces of their sanity are torn away by this manifestation of a primordial horror that should not be and yet reaches out for them in the tenebrous gloom of this forsaken underground river.

Drago grabs the human closest to him and quickly uses his claw to slice open the main artery at his throat to minimize his suffering and maximize him as a tasty treat. Drago then flings him toward the monster in the water and follows the others through the secret door.

The narrow tunnel turns out to only be 5’ long. It opens up into a very damp 15’ square vault carved out of the stone. The walls are painted with images of huge fanged mouths. Dark stains along the floor lead into another narrow yet smoother cut hall at the other end of the vault that leads out of the room. In the dim torchlight it appears that hall ends after almost 20’ and opens out into the pool that is the source of the underground river and the home of the guardian beast. A constant gurgling of water can be heard from there.  Against the wall to the left are three wooden chests, a large one flanked by two smaller one. The small box to the right of the large box is open and empty. The other two boxes are still closed and have purple wax seals on them. Mysteriously, none of the boxes are damp or rotten. It is as though they have been magically preserved by the strange energies of the caverns beneath Thracia.

Igusadon says, “Shaman G’ruk sent a party of warriors here before. As he said, five warriors were lost. They only had time to open the small box before the guardian attacked. The one who got away brought back some kind of poison that Shaman G’ruk will use for the defense of the tribe. Unfortunately that warrior died of his wounds before he could say much more about what they found here. Now we must find a way to open these other boxes and hope the guardian is pleased with our offering and does not return. If he does, we will offer it this other one.”

Drago twitches his nose from the musty dampness, then pulls out his club, “Shall we smash the chests open?”

“Yes,” replies Igusadon. “Unless you have learned the human art of picking their locks in the short time you have been among them?” he asks rhetorically. “Never mind the club though. Stand back, I’ll attend to this.” Igusadon then brings out his morningstar.

Kopusuth then steps before him, “Wait. I must see if there are any poisons we should beware of.”

Kopusuth then crouches down and begins murmuring invocations to the spirits. Abruptly he jumps up and moves back.

“There is no poison, but there are spirits here. I do not know if they are malevolent, but…” he cast his eyes at the fanged mouths pained all over the walls of the vault, “my guess is that they are not friendly.”

“Is there anything you can do?” asks Igusadon.”

Kopusuth shrugs and shows his empty palms, “I have no power as yet to deal with such spirits. Maybe someday, but not know. I am sorry.”

Drago grunts but has nothing to add. Club in hand still, he keeps one eye peeled down the corridor to watch for the thing that should not be and the other eye on the chests.

Igusadon says, “Then we will deal with it as best we can. There is no turning back now.” He then smashes open the small chest with his morningstar.

Immediately a disembodied spectral maw with sharp teeth appears in the air and tries to clamp down on Igusadon’s arm. Kopusuth was expecting such an attack and had his spear ready, but the disembodied mouth is too fast to stab. Igusadon is an experienced warrior, however, and he bats it away with his morning star, smashing in several teeth and causing it to fly away right into the claws of Iguanosuth. The latter tears it apart and it evaporates into nothing. The Deathwalker stumbles back into the wall of the vault and then sits down too shocked to even scream.

Igusadon shrugs, “Not so tough.” He then kicks the broken chest over and out of it spills a finely made dagger with a solid garnet hilt, and a potion with a label in an unknown language.

Igusadon looks to Drago, “Well, do you have any skill at detecting magic?”

Drago nods in assent and says, “Magio rivelighu!” After a few moments Drago discerns faint magical emanations coming from the dagger and the potion, and two more feint emanations of magic coming from within the large chest. Unfortunately his training with Aramek never extended to Spellcraft, and so he is unable to figure out what schools of magic are involved.

After reflecting Drago says, “Yes, both the dagger and the potion have a feint glow of magic about them, plus there are two magic items in the large chest as well. However I don’t know what kind of magic they possess.”

Drago then makes a slow turn to look around the room to check for more magic. He looks at the walls, the roof, the floor, down the tunnels, at the human, as well as at his compatriots. He finds nothing else magical in the room itself, though the leather scale armor the other lizardfolk are wearing and the healing potions they carry with them do register as magical to Drago’s spell.

Igusadon nods, “Good. Let’s open the other one then.” He then smashes the lock of the other chest with his morningstar. After hitting it four times he smashes the lid in and is able to pull the pieces off. As soon as he does so another fanged mouth rushes out of the chest. This time Kopusuth manages to stab the mouth with his spear, and Igusadon again bats the mouth away with his morningstar.

Since the appearance of the first spectral maw Drago has been wondering if they are some kind of undead. So, with his club still in his right hand, Drago points his left claw to the maw and says, “Disrompu nemortajhon!” Unfortunately spectral maw is hard to track and the white ray of positive energy misses it.

The flying fangs then clamp down on Igusadon’s weapon arm. It immediately disappears, leaving a bloody painful wound. Igusadon drops his morning-star and holds his arm tight to stop the bleeding.

Kopusuth comes forward to heal him but before he can a loud bubbling and splashing is heard from the pool outside the smooth cut hall. The guardian beast has returned, and it sends half-a-dozen tentacles down through the hall and into the vault. This time they can see that each tentacle is tipped with a single unblinking eye. The waving tentacle-eyes peer at the lizardfolk and the remaining Deathwalker. One tentacle immediately wraps itself around the shrieking Deathwalker and jerks him out of sight up the tunnel, but the other five eyes glare down at the lizardfolk and it is evident that they may attack any second.

Kopusuth grabs Igusadon’s arm and heals it as he does. “We must run, we cannot fight this and I do not think it is satisfied with our offerings,” he hisses.

Before a decision can be made, tentacles begin darting in at them. Iguanosuth lashes out at them with his two handed flail, but the tentacles dodge away from his blow. Then the tentacles start raking Igusadon and Inguanosuth, leaving horrifying lacerations with as they rip away scales and flesh with their suckers.

At the same time, the spectral maw appears again, and once more begins diving at Igusadon. It even appears a bit larger and stronger (for a disembodied mouth) than it did before. Kopusuth tries to stab it with his spear, but finds this a very difficult thing to do amidst the pandemonium in the vault.

Drago realizes that he could easily grab the magical dagger and potion from the small box and flee through the narrow tunnel back to the river, leaving the others to their fate while bringing back at least part of the treasure to G’ruk.

Drago wants to get out of there, but not without the magic treasure. Acrobatically dancing around the other lizards and monsters, Drago grabs the garnet dagger and the potion, then pulls off the remnants of the smashed lid of the big chest and takes whatever is in there. (If he needs an extra hand, Drago will hurl his club at the thing which should not be.) Then he yells at the others as he runs toward the way they entered, “Let’s get out of here!” He keeps the dagger in his hand to use if need be.

The tentacles continue to batter Igusadon and Iguanosuth, and the flying fangs continue trying to bite the former. Kopusuth reaches out and touches Igusadon to provide healing to him. Strengthened Igusadon manages to strike one of the tentacles, but does no more than bruise it.

Drago peers into the large chest and sees that there is a finely made sword, a shield decorated with silver and platinum tracery along with inlaid carnelians, a silver mirror, an iron axe studded with green glass and jade, a gold brooch, and a solid obsidian anklet with intricate inlaid designs, as well as perhaps ten bags of coins. His spell to detect magic has already faded and it would take too long to fire it up again, but from their placement, Drago guesses that it was the sword and shield that registered as magical. He has time to grab those and either run or use them against the tentacles.

Drago is interested in the other objects, but for now, he picks up the sword and shield and engages the thing that should not be by trying to cut off its tentacles. He succeeds in cutting one of them off, just as Iguanosuth and Igusadon finally succeed in damaging the limbs flailing against them. Then Igusadon roars again in rage as the floating mouth again clamps down on his arm and then flies away. Kopusuth stabs it with his spear but it is not a lethal blow. The disembodied mouth swoops down again for another strike even as all but one of the tentacles finally withdraw from the room and the creature in the pool begins to submerge. The last remaining tries to wrap itself around Iguanosuth to take him with it, but he nimbly steps aside and wraps his flail around it and with a mighty tug rips the tentacle apart. A loud roar is heard from the pool and the remains of that limb withdraw. Drago then destroys the spectral maw with a swipe of his sword, catching it before it could fade out again. It’s teeth clatter on the floor of the vault. Except for the heavy breathing of the lizardfolk, all is calm once more.

Drago grunts in satisfaction, attaches the sword to his belt, and utters, “Magio rivelighu!” as he goes back to inspecting the treasure. The shield and sword were indeed the two magical items in the large chest.

Igusadon looks upon Drago with new respect in his eyes. “You may have just saved us all Drago! You could have run out of here while taking what you could, and left us for dead. Know that I will be sure you get a proper share of this treasure. For now, though, we should get out of here before that thing or something else attacks. Let’s move this chest out to the river and we’ll float it back to the camp. Drago, can you use your magic to burn a whole through the lower part of the web, so the chest won’t get stuck in it? The spider won’t be happy about it, but we’ll move through quickly enough that it won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Sure,” says Drago as he winks at Igusadon. “My mage’s hand should work to open a hole in the spider’s web, but certainly a glob of acid will do the job if not.”

The plan works out well, the dagger, potion, sword, and shield are all put into the large chest, and the whole thing is dragged back out to the river through the narrow tunnel. It floats well enough, though Drago finds the spider’s web too taut to move with his Mage Hand and does have to resort to coughing up a ball of acidic phlegm to burn a hole for the chest to float through. The monstrous spider chitters in rage but does not try to stop them. The chest floats by too quickly and the spider knows it cannot reach the lizardfolk when they have dived beneath the surface. Before long they reach the lizardfolk encampment and between the four of them they are able to drag it into G’ruk’s hut. G’ruk is very pleased.

“You have done very well!” he hisses.

“We have Drago to thank for our success,” reports Igusadon. “He sacrificed both humans but the guardian beast attacked us anyway. Then while we tried to hold it off, Drago took up this sword and shield, but instead of running off, he attacked the creature and cut off one of its limbs. That turned the tide of the battle, and we were able to drive it and some of the other guardians of the treasure away. Iguanosuth and Kopusuth also fought bravely. I commend them all.”

G’ruk nods, and then hands Igusadon and Iguanosuth a potion each from Drago’s bandolier. “You two look like you need these. Drink them and rest. In the meantime, I will look through these things and then call you all back to reward you for your courage and selfless service to the Malarat. Drago, you have earned our trust. Go now and rest. I will call you all back later.”

A couple of hours later, G’ruk calls them all back to his tent. Igusadon and Iguanosuth are both fully healed of the wounds inflicted upon them by the guardian beast and the spectral mouths.

“Unfortunately, there were no further clues as to the location of the Immortal King. But the bags were filled with silver and this treasure will help us pay for further supplies from King Stronghoen and others who would trade with us in the Underdark; but there is enough here to reward you for your labors and assist you in the trials ahead. Drago, I bestow upon you the sword and the shield that you used to battle the guardian beast to save your comrades and bring back this treasure for the Malarat. Please come forward.”

G’ruk then hands the sword and the shield to Drago. “Use them well in the service of the Malarat and all lizardfolk, and someday, in the service of the Immortal King.” Drago can now see that the shield, while certainly functional, is itself a work of art, as it is decorated with silver and platinum traceries and 70 carnelians encrusting the surface.

G’ruk proceeds to bestow the magical dagger with the solid garnet hilt upon Igusadon. An iron axe studded with green glass and jade is given to Iguanosuth. Kopusuth receives the potion, a potion of invisibility as it turns out, and two more cure moderate wound potions and two gravebane grenades from Drago’s bandolier. Kopusuth now has a total of four of the cure moderate wound potions that were originally Drago’s.

G’ruk thanks them all and dismisses them until such time as he has further need of their services. “Drago, stay with the others, but if you wish you may go with some of your brother warriors to the swamp or even visit Huvat Vex. Don’t not go anywhere alone. It would not be safe for you.”

Drago raises his eyebrows, “Huvat Vex? Yes, I would love to visit Huvat Vex, Shaman G’ruk.”

Evening, Readying 19

Here Drago and his new comrades enjoy a sumptuous feast of dead Deathwalker. Yummy. Drago learns about the nature of magic amongst his people and a jaw dropping revelation about his destiny, if he lives so long.

That evening a great feast is had. Drago sees Trakoadon and some other warriors that Drago knows are sitting together speaking. Igusadon, Iguanosuth, Kopusuth and the others are sitting in another group. The rest of the lizardfolk are from different clans and so Drago does not recognize them.

Drago has met Trakoadon before (the first one he met) and the others, he knows by face but not name.

Drago looks around the room and breathes deep the delicious aroma of fresh meat. He walks over to Igusadon, Iguanosuth and Kopusuth and says, “Greetings great warriors. May I join you?”

As he sits, Drago is handed a spit of roasted Deathwalker. Lizardfolk females soon bring him a large banana leaf with rice and fish and some roots and spices. The lizardfolk diet is pretty simple however, and mostly carnivorous.

Igusadon says to him, “You well deserve this share of the meat. You did well out there. I am glad that more lizardfolk, such as you, are joining us everyday, awakening to our true destiny. Emissaries have even been sent out to other tribes, to gather all who will listen. Soon we will find the Immortal King and will have no need of those giggling fools the gnolls or their bone-headed master King Stronghoen. Then we will leave these caves and rule all under the sun once more.”

“Thank you, Igusadon, it’s always a pleasure to kill Deathwalkers,” replies Drago as he slurps on the meat. “May I ask how many lizardfolk have joined our glorious cause to find the Immortal King?”

Igusadon thinks a moment and then says, “We have maybe twelve hands of warriors,” by which he means 60, “though most of them are down below in Huvat Vex acting as mercenary guards for King Stronghoen. I have no doubt that you’ll eventually have to take your
turn down there as well.”

Drago grunts agreement, farts, and then says, “Good. I came to seek the Immortal King.” After a brief pause Drago adds, “So what kind of reptile do YOU think he is?” Leaning forward, “I believe he is a Copper Dragon. Any sign of dragons down there?”

Igusadon and the others are a bit taken aback by this. Then Kopusuth speaks up, “I am afraid you are thinking too small Drago. You are undoubtedly thinking of your illustrious ancestor, Kopep. He is no doubt an adult dragon by now, hundreds of years old. But the Immortal King we seek was the ruler of a lizardfolk empire thousands of years in the past. If Shaman G’ruk’s dreams are true, the Immortal King has found a way to sleep through the ages so that he can return to us when the stars are right. As it has been said by some human lore masters, ‘That is not dead which can eternal lie/and with strange eons even death may die.’”

Drago murmurs thoughtfully to himself, “Perhaps he is Kopep’s grandfather? Hmmm…” He seems to tune out for a moment, then focuses again on Igusadon’s words, “So the Immortal King is a giant lizardfolk? Or some ancestral lizard kind?” Drago stops, blushes and says, “Yes, I think too much.”

Kopusuth shrugs, “Shaman G’ruk has only told us that the Immortal King was the greatest of the lizardfolk in the time before the rise of the mammalian hordes. He was no dragon, but one of us. So yes, I suppose you could say he is a great ancestor.”

Drago belches, shrugs and replies, “Kopep lived amongst our people as one of us. He was not in the form of a dragon when he did so. He was lizardfolk.  He is one of us. He is my flesh and bones.” After a brief pause, Drago leans forward again, “Anyway, tribal lore says that Kopep came from around here somewhere, just like the Immortal King. Any signs of dragons down in Huvat  Vex?”

Kopusuth shakes his head in the negative, “No, we have seen no sign of any dragons. I think that is a good thing. They are very unpredictable and their ways are unfathomable.”

Drago nods his head, then after a moment says looking at Kopusuth, “On a different subject, I am curious about the nature of magic amongst our people. I wasn’t interested in such things when I lived with the Malarat, but now… well, things have changed.”

Kopusuth laughs and then says, “You are still among the Malarat – among the smart ones – and not the toadies who stayed to lick the behinds of the unscaled. But yes, I will gladly tell you of our magical traditions.”

Kopusuth then proceeds to tell Drago about how the shamans of the lizardfolk are not all the same. Some come by their power through dreams and natural talent. Shaman G’ruk is a shaman like this, able to draw upon both the divine and arcane powers of the multiverse. Others, like Drago, are born to arcane magic. Among the lizardfolk, this is usually due to dragons like Kopep coming to mate with lizardfolk females, though there are other heritages that are more sinister in nature, as devils and demons have sometimes come among them as well to corrupt them. Finally, there are those who gain their power solely through prayer to Semuanya the patron god of the lizardfolk; or, in Kopusuth’s own case, communion with the spirits of the natural world.

Drago laughs as well, “Thank you Shaman Kopusuth. Have you noticed any other copper spotted descendents among the ‘smart ones’ gathered in Thracia?”

Kopusuth says, “No, there are not. In fact, Drago, you are the only hatchling in this generation to show signs of Kopep’s legacy. If you continue to grow into your power then Shaman G’ruk will have no choice but to acknowledge you as his successor. It is the way of our people. Of course it is also the way of our people that you could challenge him at any time in a contest of either riddles or power, but I would not recommend that – at least not until such time as you have imbibed all our lore from Shaman G’ruk, plumbed the wisdom of the Malarat, and become certain of your own power. Even then, until you receive dreams from the Immortal King, you will not be able to lead us to our rightful destiny.”

Drago’s jaw drops open, speechless. He tries to speak but only stutters. Finally he composes himself and says simply, “Oh crap.”

Here ends volume 5 of “Against the Scarlet Sign.“