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.

That night after dinner, Rain bursts into the barracks screaming, “Assassins! Brotherhood Assassins in the Palace! Protect the Prince!” over and over. She is still dressed in the red cloak and white clothes from the aborted knighting ceremony, but she now has a heavy steel shield in her left hand, and a rapier (not her own) in her right. She is also girt with a dagger and a shortbow and quiver is slung on her back.

Apone and the rest of the squad are awakened by the alarm coming from the palace which began just before Rain burst into the barracks. A very startled Newt wheels around from her place by the window, and nearby resting on an empty cot, one that used to belong to Noch in fact, is Drago. Aramek is nowhere in sight.

“Rain! What’s all this!? How are you out of the dungeons?” barks Sgt. Apone.

Drago jumps out of bed at the noise and immediately assumes a defensive posture in front of Newt. A low hissing growl can be heard from him as he assesses the scene.

Rain immediately goes for her chest and starts pulling out armor, weapons and pouch. She yells “Brotherhood Assassins come up thru the Dungeons, I let myself out and followed them up into the Keep. Get the commander NOW! The Prince is in danger!” (This last part, Rain musters every bit of her command voice.) As she says this she rips off the red cloak and dons her studded leather jacket. She then straps her weapons belts on, yelling “TO ARMS! Brotherhood Assassins in the Keep! Protect the Prince. Get the HELLS UP NOW!”

She double checks by feel that her potions are in their pouch and is ready to bolt back out to the Palace.

Sergeant Apone’s eyes grow wide then he starts barking out orders, “You heard the lady! To arms! Sound the horns of alarm!”

Without another second of hesitation, all the Guard present begin throwing on their armor and strapping on their arms.

At this, Drago looks at Newt, then grunts at her as he motions toward Rain and says, “Let’s go.”

“It’s okay, Drago. Nobody is attacking me,” sighs Newt as she moves around him to get her leather on.

Drago is wearing only his green scales and does not bother with weapons.

While hastily donning her armor Rain yells, “There were assassins and goblins laying wait in the grand foyer, their bolts have drow sleep poison, beware!”

Lowering her voice to a normal pitch she says to Drago “Drago, do you have any protective magic you can spare for me?”

“Protective magic?” Clearly the notion hadn’t occurred to him before as he says, “I don’t think so….”

Rain chuckles at Drago’s response. She says in draconic “Drago, you are with me. Newt stay behind me at all times. Lets go!”

Drago blinks and loudly roars his agreement.

Newt giggles as they go, “But he can whisper sweet nothings in your ear from a long way off! Hehee!”

“Okay, I’ve got your back.” Newt quips, “Gotta keep you alive or we’ll never clear your name at the trial.”

Sir Bodwyn and Commander Gorman, unarmored but with their swords and shields in hand, come running into the room from their officer’s quarters on the upper levels of the barracks. Commander Gorman is clearly startled to see Rain and is about to say something when Sir Bodwyn cuts him off. “No time for that. What the situation Sergeant?”

Sergeant Apone quickly relays to Sir Bodwyn what Rain told him. “That’s good enough for me, we can sort out the details later,” Sir Bodwyn responds. “Guard, to the palace! For the Lion Throne!” he shouts.

Newt jumps up and starts putting on her leather armor, then grabs her weapons. She tries to be fast, but she just looks clumsy compared to Rain.

Through all the chaos, Rain takes two seconds to smile at Newt assuringly.

From inside the palace a voice can be heard crying out, “Just a moment! Just a moment!” They hear the bar being withdrawn and then the double doors swing open to reveal several younger knights and commanding them the bearish form of an older knight with a salt and pepper beard and two pieces of glass on a wire frame perched on his nose. His sword and shield are in hand, but otherwise the knight is dressed only in a nightgown and nightcap. It is Sir Godric, the valiant and noble knight of Heironeous whose cheerful demeanor long ago earned him the sobriquet: the Gay Cavalier.

“Sir Bodwyn, come in quickly! There has been an attack! We are not sure by who or what. The guards in the foyer are dead and we’re already sending patrols through the halls to…”

Bodwyn interrupts him, “It’s the Scarlet Brotherhood, or so I’ve been told. They are trying to get to the Prince again. We’ll head up to his quarters immediately! You continue conducting a sweep of the palace
with the night shift.”

Bodwyn leads the Guard through the grand foyer to the central stairs, splitting the squads so that both stairwells will be covered. “Rain, you come with me, don’t leave my side,” Bodwyn orders. Drago and Newt likewise stick close by Bodwyn and Rain.

Rain does as she is told and sticks close to Sir Bodwyn.

When Bodwyn and the Guard reach the third floor they find, Ragnbjorn, Fingol, Wat, and a knight named Hubard in the hall talking with Sedara at the open door to the Prince’s chambers. The Prince and several of the ladies-in-waiting are safe within.

“It seems a catastrophe has been avoided,” Sedara says to Bodwyn. She looks past him and sees Rain, and for a moment a flood of relief can be seen in her eyes but she covers it up quickly. “Isn’t Rain supposed
to be in the dungeons?”

“She was milady,” respond Bodwyn. “The Scarlet Brotherhood came up through the dungeons somehow. Rain says she got out in order to warn us. Sir Godric has taken charge down below and is having the palace swept to flush out the assassins.

Ragnbjorn says, “Fingol and I took care of four of them, two were goblins actually, on the second floor stairwell. They were coming down from this level. There are four dead guards back that way, two on the third floor and two on the second.

Hubard then speaks up, “Yes, we ran into three human assassins and one goblin also. They blinded Father Wat and I with a flash pellet and disappeared. They were heading back to the first floor, probably to get out through whatever way they used to get in. I am deeply sorry Commander Bodwyn that we were not able to stop them.”

Bodwyn turns to Rain, “There is much we need to speak to you about. You said the assassins came from the dungeons. Can you show us where?”

Rain casually takes out the set of dungeon keys from her pocket and hands them to Bodwyn as she replies in an even tone, “Yes, I can show you exactly where they entered the dungeons. They came by my cell to gloat, being that their leader is my brother Niccolo.”

“I knew it!” Fingol blurts out before he can stop himself, then covers his mouth.

Rain looks over at Fingol and barely smirks. She then takes off her weapons belts and hands them over to Bodwyn as he continues to ask her questions.

“Thank you,” says Bodwyn, “You have saved me the awkwardness of having
to ask.” He hands Rain’s weapons over to Sgt. Apone.

“Where is Niccolo now?” Newt asks. “Did he escape? And what of the knight that brought him to the ceremony?”

“He probably made his way down to the dungeons and outside the keep,” answers Rain.

“Prince Prospero,” Fingol says while bowing, “haven’t we learned enough to know what to do about these charges against Rain? Let her keep her weapons. We have need of her help in making this keep safe again.”

Rain interrupts, “No Sir Fingol, I have not been acquitted yet. This process must complete before I can truly be free in the eyes of the Lion Throne. I am fine, do not worry.” She ends this with a smile directed solely at Fingol.

Father Wat says, “Rain’s shout certainly alerted us to the attack. For that I am thankful.”

“But I think we may be thinking too small: either the Brotherhood sent in Niccolo early to assess the grounds, and we have pushed them back and need to secure the dungeon access… or the Cuthbertians are in on a coup. So outside this palace we will either find the Brotherhood fleeing, or the Cuthbertians ruling the streets and our brethren in trouble out there.”

Father Wat grimaces, “Or maybe I am too paranoid all of a sudden and we just need to secure the dungeon… ”

He sighs, “But I would like to get an update on what is happening outside, and if the Cuthbertians are okay… or not… ”

Fingol responds, “It’s my suspicion that Brother Burne would make a deal with Brotherhood in order to preserve his beloved law & order.” Fingol growls, “He wouldn’t care how many people had to die to save the town. If you are of a mind to venture out, I’ll stand by you. Let’s see how far this villainy reaches.”

Rain adds, “My understanding is that Brother Burne was a stooge in this assault. Regardless of my feelings for the man, I doubt he consciously is in league with the Brotherhood.”

Fingol shrugs clearly unconvinced but not wanting to contradict Rain.

Newt asks, “Why do you think this Burne is not involved? He seems in perfect position to be involved, with a small army of cudgels to enforce his will.” It seems there are some ‘nobles’ for whom Newt doesn’t have a full measure of respect.

Rain lowers her voice directed to Newt, though everyone around can still hear, “Being a complete jerk is one thing. Conspiring with an evil empire against the Lion Throne is quite another.”

Father Wat responds, “True! That is why I would love see the streets to kill of my nagging doubts… I will have to do a lot of work towards forgiveness of the Cuthbertians around here if it is just the Brotherhood we are after.

“Either way we need to keep the Prince safe and secure the dungeons. Sir Ragnbjorn, how shall we proceed?”

Drago wags his tail and nods his head in agreement, but he says nothing as he looks from the Prince to Ragnbjorn.

Well, Newt is not at all convinced, but she can see when she’s outnumbered and outranked. She gives up the argument, but in a bit of a pout, she crosses her arms and remains silent.

In the presence of so many knights and members of the guard, Sedara retreats back into the Prince’s room to rejoin the ladies-in-waiting, who have all put down their knitting needles. The Prince comes forward and says, “Rain, your actions and words fill me with great confidence in you. It is very noble of you to give Brother Burne the benefit of the doubt.”

The Prince turns to Newt, “Brother Burne is not, however, in charge of the knights of St. Cuthbert, nor the Church, nor even the militia. That would be Father Cuthmond. Bodwyn, hurry and let Rain show you where the assassins got in and secure the dungeons. For now, Rain will have to be restored to her cell, but you may leave the door open and provide her with a guard – for her safety. Newt and Drago may stay with her if they wish.”

“Yes, your Highness. Thank you for clarifying.” Newt then remains silent again, but this time due to embarrassment.

The Prince then turns to Ragnbjorn, Fingol, Wat, and Hubard. “The four of you go down to the Church of St. Cuthbert. Ask Sir Godric to send with you as many of his paladins as he can spare from the castle sweep. When you get there, ask to see Father Cuthmond and tell him what has happened. Bring Brother Burne back here. Niccolo is supposed to be there as well, but I suspect he is no longer, but arrest him and bring him back if by any chance he is there. Here take my seal with you. Hurry now!”

Rain nod-bows to Prospero, then begins to lead Bodwyn down to the dungeons and the secret breach.

When Rain returns to the dungeon, Newt goes along. In addition to supporting her friend Rain, Newt is curious to see a real dungeon.

Drago follows Rain and Newt into the dungeons to spend the night. He’s a little nervous at the prospect but tries not to show it.

“Do you think divination spells or other magical detection would help find other tunnels or secret entrances?” Newt seems not to hold on to negative emotion for long. “I think that would be a good idea—searching by those means, all over the keep, top to bottom.”

Newt makes note of the route to the dungeon, still thinking about secret passageways and humming a pleasant little melody as they go.

“Very good thinking,” says Bodwyn as they head back down into the dungeons. “We’ll have the court wizards give the whole place a sweep in the morning. They won’t be able to do it until they’ve had time to prepare their spells, but we’ll let them know to get ready for it.”

In the dungeons they find the two corpses of the guards, and also the corpses of the three goblins with shortbow arrows in them. One of them obviously shot in the back as he was running away from Rain’s cell. All three of the goblins are dressed head to toe in loose fitting dark maroon robes, like the human Scarlet Brotherhood assassins. They each have hand crossbows sized for them, and are girt with shortswords and daggers, also sized appropriately. With their gangling limbs and over sized heads, they would almost be cute if not for their beady red eyes and huge maws filled with needle sharp teeth.

The first two seem to have been shot right in front of Rain’s cell. One has an arrow in both eyes (in one and out the other) and from his position he seems to have been facing the cell. The other has an arrow in his heart and seems to have been facing back down the hall into the shadowy corner that leads deeper into the dungeons. The one shot in the back was running away from the cell in the other direction towards the palace. All three of them had taken off their hoods (the assassin hoods that cover all but their eyes).

A bloody crossbow bolt lays near the cell door. Another bolt will be found down the passage at the turn to the lower depths of the dungeon. Within Rain’s cells are three crossbow bolts. One stuck in the wall at head level by the cot, one on the floor by the cot, and a third stuck in the frame of the cot.

The dead guards back by the entrance were struck with the small bolts and also stabbed with swords (in the back).

Bodwyn surveys the scene and then says to Rain, “When you got out you didn’t by any chance secure a shortbow did you?”

Rain does not hesitate in her reply to Bodwyn and Apone, “The assassins were noticed and followed by a kid I used to run with who knows I am in here. He killed these three goblins who were gaurding me, then I let myself out. As he had been shot by a crossbow I made him leave. He gave me his weapons and I followed the assassins up to raise the alarm.”

At a dead end much farther down in the reaches of the dungeons, Rain reveals the false wall. Beyond it is a cramped tunnel leading down into the town. Bodwyn assigns knights to guard it until they can get some paladins down to lead a more thorough investigation.

“We can’t go charging in there now,” Bodwyn says as he closes the false wall again. “It may be trapped and they might also have an ambush prepared. No use running into that. We’ll send mages and paladins down there as soon as we can and get it secured. Good work Rain. Now, however, I must escort you back… Odric!”

Bodwyn quickly commands Apone and his squad to guard the secret door, then with Rain, Newt, Drago, and a couple of other knights who had come down with them he hustles back up in the passage and stops before another cell door. Within is Odric sitting cross legged on his cot staring at an assassin’s shortsword lying in the middle of his cell. The knights draw their swords as Bodwyn fumbles for the correct key.

Odric looks up and says calmly, “Brother Niccolo’s plans did not go as he wished, but he had the consideration to leave me this blade to salvage my honor. I had truly hoped to find something better among you, but after observing the carnage that you consider justice I see that the Lion Throne is no more than the other side of the same false coin. Farewell to you all.”

Just as Bodwyn finds the key and turns the lock, Odric swiftly reaches out for the blade and then impales himself upon it. The blade sinks into his heart and out of his backside. He sighs out his last breath even as Bodwyn runs to his side.

Newt’s eyes go wide, and for the second time that day she screams and reels back against Drago, her whole body quivering and twitching. Newt is overcome by waves of convulsive sobbing. It will be some
time before she can even speak as she is wracked with sorrow.

Drago catches Newt and lifts her small body into his arms again.

As it dawns on Rain what is about to happen she lunges towards Odric’s cell “No!…”, but it is too late. Stunned that he took his own life it is moments before she realizes what is happening with Newt. Standing next to her, she wraps an arm around Newt’s shoulder in comfort. Quietly she says to nobody “What a waste, if he only knew the truth.”

After a minute she sobers herself and quietly says to Apone “I am ready to go back to my cell now, would you please escort me?”

When Rain is ready, Drago follows her into the cell, lays Newt upon the cot and strokes her forehead. It is quite a sight to watch the back of Drago’s green scaly claws comfort his little pet ape.

Rain sits in a corner of the cell, knees pulled up to her chest and head down against her knees. She is not sleeping, but has not said anything since entering her cell.

After awhile, Sedara comes down to the cell to check on Newt, obviously concerned that for the second time that day Newt had fallen into a swoon.

When Sedara enters, Rain looks up but otherwise does not move.

“I’m sorry…” sobs Newt between gasps for air. “I just can’t help it. It’s so sad. And it’s my fault! I may as well have been the one to thrust that sword into him.

Newt calms herself, focusing on her recent resolution to be able to handle what she’s just been through. “People really can have their lives flash before them, and I saw his (she indicates Odric) right up to its end. All of it.

“When do we leave to find Thracia? Elias told him that he saw my parents before they were taken away. They were worried about me! When can we go help them?

Thinking at the cooling corpse Newt almost breaks into sobs again, but stops herself. “He almost made it. But for seeing the executions and but for me… he might have made friends and had a good life, with love and warmth. His was so cold and sad.” She looks at Sedara as she continues “The Scarlet Brotherhood is evil. They trick their own people, stifling what they could be—and I can’t tell if they truly believe in what they are doing or if they are just preserving their own power. Odric was looking for something better. He thought he may have found it until he saw the executions. We have to stop those or he’s right—we’re no better than the Brotherhood.

A few more sniffs pass, then, “It was Father Wat that started Odric the right way. It was his kindness that made Odric look to Keoland for a better way to live. Good Father Wat. Then I turned everything upside down. I couldn’t see it all, not then. He wasn’t planning treachery. He was only making plans in case we attacked him.” Newt can’t help crying again as she remembers. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know! But I turned us all against him by denouncing him when I didn’t have all the information. And he’s dead because of it. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.” Her voice tapers off.

After a few more moments, in a soft, more even voice, Newt asks, “Lady Sedara, what can be done to stop Brotherhood?”

As Newt talks about Odric and the executions, Rain catches Sedara’s eyes with her own which show forming tears and pain.

Sedara sighs heavily. “We have all made very serious errors. It would seem that none of us are without sin, not a one of us,” she says sadly. “Rain, please tell them what I told you about the executions. These lies must end.”

Rain responds, “The executions are only a ruse to cull the people. The Cudgels wanted to bring back old time executions, like we have seen, and the Heironians fought against it wanting more civil punishments for crimes commited. In the end what has been done is that quick and merciful executions are performed in private for crimes deserving those punishments. The more cruel public exections are only illusions. They are a compromise between the Cudgels and Heironians. One I fear has done more damage than was anticipated… as we have seen here.”

Newt recoils at the thought. “Cull people? That’s terrible! Why would that be necessary, as a ruse or otherwise?” Though still recovering from the recent experience, her mood has changed from one of sadness to one more of anger at the unreasonable mistreatment of people.

Rain looks up and sobers a bit. “Sorry Newt, I meant to say lull.” She almost smiles. “While I am sure the Cuthberts would love nothing more, there is no way the Heironians would put up with that. I believe the attempt to be an honest one… but neither group fully thought out the consequences. Groups of Olmans are fleeing the perceived new governmental regime and forming bandit camps outside the city walls. I fear we have created at least as many problems as we were trying to fix.”

Drago thinks about all that wasted meat. Having less humans in the world is not such a bad thing if life in Westkeep is representative of human kind, but he’s still confused. “How can you kill someone in public and call it an illusion,” he says in Keolandish.

Sedara responds, “The arsonists, murderers, and rapists would also face execution even in Keoland, but they would be hung in a way that would instantly snap their necks, so as not to prolong their suffering. The old legal code of the Sea Princes was much more brutal, and the Cuthbertians argued that the people of Westkeep would continue to mistakenly believe that we were too soft unless we reinstituted the old code and restored their fear of the law. As I explained to Rain before, the Heironeans would not put up with that, so the Prince ruled that the following expedient would be used: those prisoners guilty of capital crimes would be executed swiftly and as painlessly as possible, but court illusionists would use their magic to make it appear to the crowds as though a more brutal execution were happening, when actually all that was on stage were the corpses of those already put to death.”

Drago nods his head as he takes in Sedara’s words, then mutters, “Iluziighu,” as he visualizes himself as a dead Olman. Immediately his features change from those of a lizardfolk warrior to those of an Olman covered in blood and bruises, and hideous burns. Drago falls to the ground, looking dead.

“Ew!” Newt crawls farther back on the cot, away from the ‘corpse.’ She’s sure it’s not real but not sure what Drago is up to.

Willing himself to look normal again, Drago sits up and says, “Sorry Newt. Illusions can be compelling.”

Newt relaxes and scoots back to the edge of the cot. “It’s… it’s okay. I just wasn’t ready for something like that. It’s been a rough evening, and I’m not feeling myself right now.”

Drago tries to comfort Newt with a scaley paw on her knee. Looking back at Lady Sedara, Drago cocks his head, “All is illusion?”

“Yes,” Sedara says, “it was all an illusion. Nothing more than an expedient means to implement the harshness of the Cuthbertian recommendations to deter the people of Westkeep from further riots, without having to actually do anything that would force the Heironeans to quit the city in protest. It made neither side happy and in the end has only made the Lion Throne seem no better than the Scarlet Sign.”

Later in the morning, Sedara comes down to Rain’s cell and sends Newt and Drago up to the palace to get dinner. She assures them that good food will be brought down to Rain momentarily but first she must speak with her privately. She also tells them that the Marinus brothers have returned safetly to Westkeep with Joia’s family, and that Joia herself was already safe in the palace.

Rain smiles at this news.

“Yes, milady. And thank you. I wasn’t sure when Rain would get something to eat.” Newt goes to dinner, finally a bit hungry. She is still unclear about who Joia is, but she can wait to find out.

Drago silently follows Newt to morning dinner, although his stomach is audibly calling out for food as he goes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fireseek 23

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, sir,” says Lorindel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fireseek 23: at the Gate to the Westkeep Palace

NOTE: What follows are excerpts from the narrative. Drago is genuinely unaware that anything out of the ordinary occurs when the drakonik power of Kopep to disguise himself first appears. His only clues are the looks on human faces.

Arriving at the entrance to the keep they see that it is flanked by gibbets, iron cages in which have been hung the corpses of executed criminals. Crows peck at the carrion and hover all about the palace. From within the courtyard can be heard a large crowd shouting and yelling, and occasionally gasping in dismay.

The guard at the entrance seems to be doubled. In addition to the pike wielding members of the Guard, a fully armored knight walks out to meet them. He flips back his visor to reveal that it is Sir Jankin who has come forth to greet them. He looks a bit pale and drawn however, though he makes an effort to be pleasant. “Hail Sir Ragnbjorn. It is good to see that you and the others have returned safely. Please follow me, and I will take you Fingol, and the Marinus and any other dignitaries who may be with you in to see the Prince. Sgt. Apone and the Guards may be go over to the barracks and report in to Commander Gorman.”

“Thank you Sir Jankin,” Ragnbjorn replies. “It sounds as though the executions are still going on. They haven’t finished with all the rioters yet?”

Sir Jankin looks quite downcast as he answers, “Yes, they are finishing with the rapists now. These,” he indicates the gibbets, “will be replace with the fresh bodies soon. I believe they are preparing the arsonists now. Let us please go now. It may be just, but it is not a sight I wish to see and I would prefer we are all within the palace when they start.”

Fingol responds, “No my friend, it may preserve order… for a time… but it is not just.”

“As you say, Sir Jankin, there is no need for us to delay. Indrani, Lorindel, Fingol, and I will come with you.” Ragnbjorn turns to Sgt. Apone. “Sergeant, please bring Adelina and Drago with you to the barracks. We will send for them later. And also see to it that Odric is put in the dungeons, but well away from the other rabble.”

“As you will,” Sgt. Apone responds.

Just then one of the guards manning the entrance comes over to Drago’s cloaked form and says, “Sorry sir, but we can’t let anyone through without getting a good look at ‘em first. Those are the rules, no exceptions.”

Before anyone can stop him, the guard reaches out and knocks back the hood of Drago’s cloak to reveal a tall handsome man with fair skin, close cropped blond hair, and cornflower blue eyes.

“Who is this then?” asks the guard. “Are you with them?” He nods towards Sgt. Apone’s squad.

“Yes, sir, my name is Drago,” he responds to the guard.

Indranil raises his eyebrows when Drago’s hood is cast back and utters an involuntary gasp. Then he turns to Lorindel and whispers, “Well that will come in handy.”

“Indeed it will, Brother,” agrees Lorindel.

Ragnbjorn looks quite shocked but then steps over to the guard and says, “Yes, Drago is with us.”

The guard nods and steps aside.

Sir Jankin asks, “Is everything alright, Sir Ragnbjorn? You look a little…”

Ragnbjorn waves him off, “No Sir Jankin. Everything is fine, but I think that Drago had better come along with our party after all. Drago, please stay with me.”

Drago knows enough about humans to wonder that the guard doesn’t recoil in horror from him. He also finds it curious that Ragnbjorn, Indranil, and others are looking at him so curiously.

Without further ado, Drago pulls the hood back over his head. He feels exposed. He wants to hide.

Once away from Drago Newt explodes, angrily venting to the Guard. “Can you believe him?! So what is he? Lizard or human? And WHO is he?! Oohhh! I’m SO ANGRY! How can we trust someone who presents himself one way then switches who he is just like that (she snaps her fingers)?” She is genuinely indignant at the deception.

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

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

Drago’s Drakonik Kantrips

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

Drago’s Dragon Powers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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