Drago’s Tale of Readying 18 to 20, 591

Looking around the group as he gathers his thoughts, Drago begins, “Please, no questions until after I finish my tale. However, my story is one of Chaos, a tale of both Good and Evil. I would therefore like to ask that those of you who can, to cast your spells now to discern the truth of my words. Open your mind and all perceptive skills you may have at your disposal. Newt, Ulmar, you may probe my mind deeply as I share.”

After the others have a moment to cast their spells, Drago begins again. “After Sir Indranil banished me from your merry little band three days ago, I went looking for Shaman G’ruk and the other renegade members of the Malarat tribe. I knew they must be around here somewhere. I found them in the swamp near the northeast corner of Thracia.

“The lizardfolk then took me to their encampment below ground. As you now know, their camp is heavily guarded by both lizardfolk and gnolls. The password is, or rather was, ‘We serve the king of the City of Eternal Light,’ although I suspect it has changed by now. Neither humans, elves nor dwarves can hope to make entry easily, even with the password.

“My kinfolk took me to see Shaman G’ruk, as I hoped. He is one crazy egg of a lizard. He’s become fat and comfortable in his power. His followers believe he is very powerful, that he is able to cast all clerical and arcane spells in the multiverse. I don’t know if that is true or not, although by this morning, I earned his full trust.

“Anyway, last night when we were feasting on Deathwalkers (humans are their food source) I learned more about their make-up. I was told they have been sending messengers out to all the lizard tribes in the swamps, to gather all those who have a like mind, lizards like themselves who want to destroy all of humanity.

“Chief Rahk and the other elders of my tribe of course strongly oppose such tactics. This is why Rahk sent me here to kill G’ruk, if the renegade fails to see the light of reason. Right now, there are about sixty lizardfolk in Thracia, although last I heard, most of them are guards down in Huvat Vex. Only a couple dozen are generally at their camp at any given time. A few more lizards arrive every day to join the revolution.”

Drago pauses, licks his lips, and considers his next words. “As you learned today, G’ruk seeks to awaken the legendary Immortal King, he who ruled Huvat Vex in the time before your Mammalian Hordes swept across the world, in the time when Reptiles still ruled the world. He believes that he sleeps somewhere below Huvat Vex, or perhaps elsewhere else below Thracia.” Drago shrugs. “I don’t know if it is true, but the other elders in my tribe do not believe in such tales. However, G’ruk claims to receive visions from the sleeping King.”

“Anyway, I also learned last night that because I descend from Kopep the copper dragon, I am G’ruk’s defacto heir as tribal shaman of the Malarat. It is the way of my people. Even so, the only way the other renegades are likely to follow me upon G’ruk’s death will be if I begin having visions of the Immortal King or find other clues as to his whereabouts.

“So, this morning G’ruk sent me on a mission upriver from their camp to find clues to the Immortal King along with some other lizards.” Looking to Newt, “The three who were with G’ruk, Newt. We didn’t find any clues, but we found some great treasure and fought an ancient beast. I don’t know what it was, but it had many razor sharp tendrils, with an eye on the end of each tendril. I received a gem encrusted magical shield and long sword as my reward for saving their lives.

“After we got back to camp, due to the trust I had earned, I was given a personal tour of the City of Eternal Light, Huvat Vex. The entrance to it is just like the ancient tomes described, the ones we found in the mound shrines in the swamp. It is below the temple of Zeus, I think his name is, but in the temple of some other unknown Goddess. There is a teleportation device that brings you there when you step on it! But again, it is very well guarded by gnolls.

“Huvat Vex is grand and beautiful. There is a giant crystal in the roof of the cavern that lights it with a bluish hue all the time. There are ponds and orchards with giant strawberries on them, all inhabited by dryads. There are four large ziggurats, each a different color, and an ancient palace where the king of Thracia lives. There are many powerful guardians everywhere one turns, including a huge five headed hydra that guards the palace.

“When we were in the palace throne room, there was quite a commotion. Evidently, they were very upset that you found, killed and ransacked the gnoll village above the cliffs. They were especially upset that you killed their women and children.” Drago chuckles. “King Stronghoen killed the gnoll leader of the tribe by twisting off his head for his failure to kill you as you climbed the cliff. Oh, by the way, King Stronghoen is a nine foot tall minotaur with terrifying arcane powers. He kind of liked me, though, because I refused to cower to his fearsomeness like everyone else.” Drago looks at Indranil and smiles toothily. “The minotaurs have ruled Thracia and Huvat Vex for a thousand years, since the beast-men threw off the yoke of their former masters, the humans who built most of the city.

“Anyway, and perhaps most importantly, because of your success in the battle against the gnolls, Stronghoen is now calling upon all the tribes of beast-men to come to Thracia to annihilate you and the Deathwalkers. Once they complete that task, they plan to wipe out all dregs of humanity from the swamps and the rest of the world like a great wave of angry beasts. In this one regard, G’ruk and Stronghoen are in complete agreement.

“However, I threw my own wrench into the works.” Drago giggles evilly. “I made a secret alliance with the King when we were alone together. Since I don’t believe I can yet kill G’ruk in a fair fight, I told Stronghoen the truth of G’ruk’s plans to break their alliance and kill the beast-men once they find the Immortal King, setting the gnolls, minotaurs and other scary monsters against the lizardfolk. Stronghoen and I made a secret pact, that he would lead the beast-men and I would lead the lizardfolk in our quest to kill all humans. Of course, I would never do such a thing… I only want G’ruk dead and the other lizards to see the beneficial light of peaceful inter-species relations, at Chief Rahk’s direction. If I am right about the Immortal King’s identity, he could be the key to wiping out all evil in this gods forsaken city. If G’ruk is right, we are all doomed.”

“Anyway, when I told Stronghoen about the Immortal King, he seemed very surprised. I don’t think he knew about the legend. He does now.” Drago giggles again. “When I told him about my belief about my relation to the Immortal King, he began to realize that if my story is real, then I am the true heir to his throne. Things began to go badly then, but our alliance didn’t fall apart. As long as he believed that he could control me, that my allegiance was to him alone, he didn’t kill me. He almost strangled me, but he didn’t kill me.” Drago smiles toothily as he rubs his neck.

“So… that is when His Majest took me on a personal ‘tour’ of the level below Huvat Vex, perhaps the lowest level, or almost. He has expressly forbidden everyone, even his own people, from going down there. However, he has guards posted here and there, and scary monsters roam around looking for food. He didn’t throw me into the dungeon, per se, it was more of an ancient corral for an unused arena, it might even have special quarters for minotaurs, much older than the arena on the surface. Minotaurs live there, even cows and calves. He left my door open too, almost daring me to try to escape, which would have been a very foolish thing to do, to wander around down there alone, blind in the darkness, with manticores and who know what else looking for a tasty meal.

“When Stronghoen left me, he said he was going to go test G’ruk’s supposed ‘great powers’ and would return shortly to begin my arcane training under his tutelage. So, yes, for a short time today, this dragon became the Dark Lord’s disciple. I am guessing that the only reason G’ruk finally moved his fat lazy ass out of his tent is because His Majest is after his ass. Thus G’ruk’s profound hatred for me.” Drago giggles again.

“So, Sir Fingol, as you can now see, Thracia did not devour me. I, as your spy, devoured Thracia and established myself as the leadership heir to our enemies, for when the time is right. Chaos between the factions follow in my wake.

“This is why I say we should let G’ruk be for now. The beast-men and lizardfolk will soon be at each other’s throat, at my doing. Therefore, I believe our next task should be to rescue Newt’s mother, who is locked up below the Deathwalker villa. Ulmar knows the way.

“Anyway, a few hours ago Bitterbark, Stronghoen’s dog faced major-domo, showed up to question me in the corrals. I quickly realized his true identity. He was overjoyed that I knew who he was because it meant that Newt must be in Thracia.

Looking directly at Newt now, “I never talked about you to anybody, Newt, not even your father. He figured it out by my reaction to him. Further, neither G’ruk nor Stronghoen have any clue about you, or your father, if I am not mistaken. I’ll let him tell his own tale though.

“Anyway, that is when Bitterbark-Ulmar helped me to escape, changing our shapes as we crossed the city, so we could warn you about the impending gathering tribes of beast-men and to find Newt. Doing so caused me to lose my alliances with both factions. I am now enemy #1 in all of Thracia, all because I decided that you deserve to live after all, even at the risk of my own life.” Finally, Drago ends his tale in silence, looking from one face to another with a smirk on his face.

Adalwulf’s face has increasingly darkened the longer Drago spoke. As Drago finishes he ruefully mutters, “I think I am beginning to see that my suspicions of allegiance to Chaos were misdirected.” He then forces himself to be silent to hear the others speak.

Fingol scans the city through his spyglass for a few minutes.

Ulmar comments, “The city of Huvat Vex predates this human city,” he
gestures to the surface ruins. “From what I have been able to gather,
Huvat Vex was the city of the ancient lizardfolk when they were ruled
by the Immortal King. Drago, I know you think the Immortal King is the
copper dragon Kopep, but I have to say that I have seen no indication
of any dragons, copper or otherwise, in, near, or under Thracia. In
any case, Kopep could only be hundreds of years old, but Shaman G’ruk
believes that the Immortal King may be thousands of years old. I
certainly want to rescue Saeva as quickly as may be, but I fear what
will happen if Shaman G’ruk should discover and awaken the Immortal
King.”

Adalwulf says, “Whatever we do, I must tell you all that I have very
few spells left, and those would not be of much use if we are to go
into combat again, whether against Patriarch Tavasmok or Shaman G’ruk.”

“I have faith that the awakening of the Immortal King will turn this land of chaos into one for good, rather than evil. So, yes, I have faith in the sound of the music of dragon’s blood in my veins. Thus I now seek the Immortal King. We each have a place in the revolution, don’t you think? Will G’ruk or Drago be proven the bigger madman?” Drago smiles.

Drago responds to Ulmar, “Yes, those are the prophecies of the mad
lizardman G’ruk, Master Ulmar. While I cannot claim to have visions of
the Immortal King like Elder G’ruk, the blood of dragons within me
seems to sing a song of faith, ‘I am here, I am here. No one knows
where, but I am here. Find me.’

“I agree, Master Ulmar, I found no sign of dragons. But I don’t buy
G’ruk’s refutation about his age. Kopep may or may not be the immortal
king, but we may be his grandchildren. When Kopep lived with my
people, he was in the form of a copper scaled lizardfolk and he bred
with my people. He could have been any age. How would one know, but
for the dreams of a mad lizardman? Anyway, it is said Kopep came from
around here, maybe from the Tors.

“I have faith that the awakening of the Immortal King will turn this
land of chaos into one for good, rather than evil. So, yes, I have
faith in the sound of the music of dragon’s blood in my veins. Thus I
now seek the Immortal King. We each have a place in the revolution,
don’t you think? Will G’ruk or Drago be proven the bigger
lizardmadman?” Drago smiles.

“I want to believe that, so we can watch for an opening to attack the villa and free Newt’s mother.

“But as much as I want to believe that, there is too much at stake to ignore the possibility that the Immortal King may be the leader the beastmen need to unite them against humanity. If that were to happen, the Great Druidess’s vision could become a reality. And frankly, without such a leader, I don’t see the beast-men rising above their factionalism.

“Ulmer, you said you thought Drago was mistaken. Could you elaborate on why?”

Fingol turns from scanning the city. “Drago, your tale is amazing. I
commend you for your resourcefulness. Please don’t take my abundance
of caution as an insult, or that I think you insincere. I believe you
are quite sincere, but you could be sincerely mistaken when you say
G’ruk is not an immediate threat. I want to believe that, so we can
watch for an opening to attack the villa and free Newt’s mother. But
as much as I want to believe that, there is too much at stake to
ignore the possibility that the Immortal King may be the leader the
beastmen need to unite them against humanity. If that were to happen,
the Great Druidess’s vision could become a reality. And frankly,
without such a leader, I don’t see the beastmen rising above their
factionalism.

“Ulmer, you said you thought Drago was mistaken. Could you elaborate on why?”

Ulmar responds to Fingol, “I did not wish to risk prying into G’ruk’s
thoughts. If he detected my presense he would have come after me I am
sure. And yet, his dreams are leading him on and, if anything, making
him even more hateful and vicious. I do believe that whatever power is
down there is leading G’ruk, and it is not a good influence on him. I
also have to wonder, though the copper dragon’s are mostly aligned
with the powers of Good, why would one so ancient have been trapped so
long in a place as dire as this? Wouldn’t his kin have freed him in
all this time if that was the case? And there are other types of
dragons as well, those not aligned with Bahamut, the lord of
benevolent dragonkind. There are the children of Tiamat, the mother of
evil dragons. Whatever is down there is ancient, and I believe it was
locked away for a reason. Don’t G’ruk’s followers themselves quote the
human loremasters who said, ‘That is not dead which can eternal
lie/and with strange eons even death may die.’ Those were not words
meant to give us comfort.”

Indranil replies, “Drago, you have done wonders. I must offer a word of caution. You are new to your powers and the nuances of them. I would caution to rely to heavily on the words of prophecy and vision for those usually are not what they seem on the surface. The powers of magic wil seek to twist the newly initiated to their purposes.”

“Cousin, I agree with you the main threat is the greater one to all of humanity. I also agree whatever has been locked away down there was done so on purpose. And if Grucka… excuse me, G’Ruk, is trying to free it and King Strongoen guard it it is likely no friend of humanity.”

“Although I do think a quick assualt on the villa might be possible to rescue Saevra first. Then we can go after G’Ruk.”

“So this power that has captured G’ruk’s ambitions may not be the Immortal King… or it may… or it may be powerful enough to unite the Beastmen whatever it might be.

“If that’s the case, I can’t help but think we need to stop G’ruk immediately. His meddling may awaken something that is too dangerous to ignore.

“Looking at these maps Drago drew of the second level of the caverns it would appear there is another entrance. (OOC: I am looking at the map titled Level Two Beastmen Cavern)” Fingol points at point at the top left of the page “Here is a stair leading down that ends very near the temple. What we need to know is if that stair leads from the outside. If we can take that, perhaps stop G’ruk before he does any further damage.”

“I can live that plan,” Drago replies to Fin. (Is this the map of the level below Huat Vex, beneath the palace? If so….) That hallway goes back into the palace. One secret on each side of the palace from below, that I saw. I am sure there are many ways down there. I suspect Ulmar will know some other ways. Seava first, then G’ruk. Agreed.”

Newt asks “Drago, how did you recognize my father? Before he said anything about me, I mean.”

Drago ponders a moment, then tells the tale in the third person.

“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!

Newt ponders what she has heard carefully before saying “No one really knows who or what the Immortal King is, right? It could be Drago’s ancestor, or it could be some all-powerful force of evil? Drago, I feel terrible saying after you’ve helped me so much to find my family, but finding the Immortal King isn’t something we should risk. We should look elsewhere for your ancestor, and leave this thing to slumber in its cavern until those with power enough can destroy it.”

“Perhaps, perhaps so,” replies Drago. Looking around at everyone now, “However, I hope you all realize that if we kill G’ruk tomorrow, I will need to leave you for a time, to establish my dominance with the renegades. I may live or I may die, but it is my destiny to try. Perhaps Ulmar will consent to join me as my 2nd in command to assist in the conquest of their mind. He has a life established there as well. If the Immortal King turns into an evil reptile after all, we will have His Majest’s armies at our disposal to take it down.

Fingol shows a momentary look of surprise at Drago’s plans. “Remember that we will be reporting back to Westkeep, and so to Chief Rahk, regarding our actions here.”

Drago replies, “Thank you, Sir Fingol. Please do report to Chief Rahk on your return. I, of course, will not be leaving. This is the city of my ancestors. The blood of dragons simmers in my blood. I must follow its scent. Uh, uh, are you leaving soon? I have completely lost track of time.”

“Oh, and if we succeed, please tell Rahk about G’ruk’s death scene in detail. He will enjoy it.” Drago smiles.

Fingol shows a momentary look of surprise at Drago’s plans. “Remember that we will be reporting back to Westkeep, and so to Chief Rahk, regarding our actions here.”

Adalwfulf’s face has increasingly darkened the longer Drago spoke. As Drago finishes he ruefully mutters, “I think I am beginning to see that my suspicions of allegiance to Chaos were misdirected.” He then forces himself to be silent to hear the others speak.

Ulmar comments, “The city of Huvat Vex predates this human city,” he
gestures to the surface ruins. “From what I have been able to gather,
Huvat Vex was the city of the ancient lizardfolk when they were ruled
by the Immortal King. Drago, I know you think the Immortal King is the
copper dragon Kopep, but I have to say that I have seen no indication
of any dragons, copper or otherwise, in, near, or under Thracia. In
any case, Kopep could only be hundreds of years old, but Shaman G’ruk believes that the Immortal King may be thousands of years old. I
certainly want to rescue Saeva as quickly as may be, but I fear what
will happen if Shaman G’ruk should discover and awaken the Immortal
King.”

Adalwulf says, “Whatever we do, I must tell you all that I have very
few spells left, and those would not be of much use if we are to go
into combat again, whether against Patriarch Tavasmok or Shaman G’ruk.”

Ulmar responds to Fingol, “I did not wish to risk prying into G’ruk’s
thoughts. If he detected my presense he would have come after me I am sure. And yet, his dreams are leading him on and, if anything, making him even more hateful and vicious. I do believe that whatever power is down there is leading G’ruk, and it is not a good influence on him. I also have to wonder, though the copper dragon’s are mostly aligned with the powers of Good, why would one so ancient have been trapped so long in a place as dire as this? Wouldn’t his kin have freed him in all this time if that was the case? And there are other types of dragons as well, those not aligned with Bahamut, the lord of
benevolent dragon kind. There are the children of Tiamat, the mother of evil dragons. Whatever is down there is ancient, and I believe it was
locked away for a reason. Don’t G’ruk’s followers themselves quote the
human lore masters who said, ‘That is not dead which can eternal
lie/and with strange eons even death may die.’ Those were not words
meant to give us comfort.”

Indranil replies, “Drago, you have done wonders. I must offer a word of caution. You are new to your powers and the nuances of them. I would caution to rely to heavily on the words of prophecy and vision for those usually are not what they seem on the surface. The powers of magic will seek to twist the newly initiated to their purposes.

“Cousin, I agree with you the main threat is the greater one to all of humanity. I also agree whatever has been locked away down there was done so on purpose. And if Grucka… excuse me, G’Ruk, is trying to free it and King Strongoen guard it it is likely no friend of humanity.

“Although I do think a quick assualt on the villa might be possible to rescue Saevra first. Then we can go after G’Ruk.”

Newt changes subject, “Oh yes. I see. It was when he asked about a young girl that must have tipped you off” observes Newt.

“I’d like to know more about your personal goals. They seem to be coloring your judgment regarding the Immortal King. Is this your last, final clue to finding your ancestor? The consequences of contacting this being could be so dire—I think you should only attempt contact with the Immortal King after you have tried everything, everything else first.”

Adalwulf interrupts, “Pardon me Newt, Fingol, Drago, but I would like to say something. I must remind you all that until I rest, I will not be fit to channel anymore divine energies nor will I be able to use divine spellcraft. Therefore, I will have no chance of overcoming an enemy cleric. I am not even sure I am a fit enough vessel for the light of Pholtus to have a chance of overcoming Tavasmok on my own even fully rested. However, if we must confront him tonight, our only chance is to get his holy symbol away from him as soon as possible. Back there,” he gestures to the squat building, “Indranil, Grim, and I overcame two Deathwalker priests through teamwork, and because I was able to disarm the last priest of his holy symbol and stop him from killing us with the emanation of the deadly forces of the Negative Material Plane.”

“Also, and I am sure you will be surprised to hear me say this, “I agree with Drago, though I will honestly say that I do not fully trust him. The Deathwalker rank and file may not themselves be totally given over to evil. If their priests were eliminated we might be able to win them over to the light. In any case, I do not believe they are aligned with Chaos. They seem to be Lawful, and only as far as that goes may be fit temporary allies against the Chaos and for the moment greater evil of King Stronghoen and Shaman G’ruk.”

Newt says with a sigh “I don’t like it, but I agree that the rescue will have to wait until tomorrow. It may have been necessary, but it’s too bad the Deathwalkers were put on alert.”

With a sidelong glance at Drago and smiling wryly, Newt adds “And don’t feel bad about distrusting Drago. I think I’m the only person here who does.” Newt jabs Drago’s ribs with her elbow as she says this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We are not,” Ulmar says evenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twilight, Readying 20, 591

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drago nods while Newt speaks, admiring her colorful form.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rain says “Um Drago… where is Indranil?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you think best.” Fingol replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After you, Sir Fingol.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?”

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.

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.“

Readying 19, a Morning Hunt for Deathwalker Slaves

Other than dealing with the unsavory topics of human slavery and humans as food, this post may be read by other player characters without giving away any secrets.

Drago sleeps like a log in his tent after the doings of the day before. In the morning, he is summoned once again to see Shaman G’ruk. When he enters the tent he sees that Igusadon, Iguanosuth, and Kopusuth are there with two additional lizardfolk warriors armed with atlatls (javelin throwers) and clubs as well as turtle shell shields. They are introduced to Drago as Atraboros and Marvorax.

“You helped us find the Keolanders yesterday, but due to carelessness,” he glances at Igusadon who stiffens, “you were sighted and had to flee. The Keolanders left, for the gnoll patrols could not find them last night after scouring the city. It is believed they returned to the jungle. They are no longer my concern. King Stronghoen can worry about them now. In the meantime I have another mission for you. I require two human slaves for something I am working on. I want you to help Igusadon. Go with him to spy upon the Deathwalkers until a band of hunters enter the jungle. Follow the hunters and bring at least two back alive. You will be provided with nets and rope for this as well. Now go and bring me what I need. Good hunting!”

“As you wish, Shaman G’ruk,” replies Drago.

Igusadon leads them once more to the surface. When they get above ground Drago sees that it is still an hour before dawn. Fog wreathes the ruins and it is hard to see, but Igusadon knows the way and leads them without incident back to the swamp and then south to the edge of the jungle where they can spy upon the Deathwalker’s villa. Igusadon makes sure that Drago, Kopusuth, and the two warriors hang back as they are not as good at hiding and keeping still as the expert hunters and trackers.

Eventually a party of five Deathwalker hunters in leather armor, with shields, spears, and shortbows leave the villa and head into the jungle. Igusadon and Igunanosuth follow them at a distance with Kopusuth, Drago, and the 2 warriors kept back as they are not as stealthy.

Igusadon feels confident that he knows what trail they are following and so leads the six of you by another way to get ahead of them in order to set an ambush. Igusadon and Iguanosuth are going to use their nets to catch two of them, while the rest of you kill the others.

And so Drago lies in wait for his prey. Drago is not comfortable with the idea of slavery, but he doesn’t mind killing them. They are only human after all. Deathwalkers for breakfast. Yum!

What follows is quite brutal. As the Deathwalkers come up the trail, Kopusuth whispers to the spirits of the green and within moments the vines and bushes and even flower stalks and grass are reaching out for the hapless humans and twining around them. Outside the area of entanglement, Igusadon and Iguanosuth jump out from behind the trees they were hiding behind and cast their nets over the first two Deathwalkers. The warriors cast darts from their atlatls and strike the last two while Drago spits acid at the one in the middle but unfortunately misses. Drago realizes that he really has to do something about his lousy aim.

The first two Deathwalkers ready their spears, though hampered by the nets and the vines and foliage wrapped around them. They strike out at Igusadon and Iguanosuth who in turn try to get a hold of the two and pull them to the ground. This does not go as well as had been hoped before long Igusadon and Iguanosuth, having been poked and stabbed, are roaring in rage and tearing and biting at their captives until they stop moving.

The last Deathwalker in the line manages to tear through the grasping vines and moves off the path into the brush to get at one of the atlatl casting warriors. He succeeds in stabbing Marvorax through the chest, and as that lizardman warrior falls he moves to attack Atraboros. The second to last in the line also pulls free, though it takes him longer, and he too moves into the brush to attack Atraboros, who is soon hard pressed to defend himself, though he drops his atlatl and resorts to lashing out with his claws and snapping at them with his fanged maw.

Drago also moves in to engage the middle Deathwalker with his own teeth and claws, claws that are now enlarged and razor sharp like a dragon’s. Kopusuth is at his side using his spear, and it doesn’t take long to bring him down.

Drago and Kopusuth move quickly to assist Atraboros. Kopusuth even abandons his spear to rip into one of the Deathwalkers from behind with his own claws and teeth. Soon, the two fighting Atroboros are down as well, though Drago and Atraboros both bear bloody wounds from the fight, though they are but flesh wounds thanks to their own shields and thick hides.

Atroboros is the first to reach the side of the fallen Marvorax. He quickly begins binding his wounds. Kopusuth sees that they are not a moment too soon as Marvorax was within seconds of dying. He gets out one of his two healing potions and pours a little into the comatose warrior’s mouth. Within moments he awakens and is able to drink the rest of the potion. His life is saved.

Igusadon and Iguanosuth come down the path to inform the rest that they all the Deathwalkers are now dying unless they choose two to bind their wounds. This is soon done. Igusadon then directs that all but Kopusuth will carry back one Deathwalker. The two who are alive are tied up and carried by Igusadon and Iguanosuth. The others, being corpses now, are carried back for food.

Back under the ruins of Thracia, Drago is witness to an argument between Igusadon and the gnoll guard captain at the final guard post before they reach the underground river. Neither of them speaks Common fluently at all, so their communication is a pidgin made up of Common, Gnoll, and Draconian and a lot of sign language and growling. From what Drago can make out, the gnolls are demanding one of the human bodies as tribute before they will let the lizardfolk pass.

After much bickering, more growling, baring of teeth, and mutual attempts at intimidation Igusadon signals to Marvorax who then hurls the body he carries to the floor of the filthy guardpost in disgust. The gnolls then allow the lizardfolk to pass but not without some snickering. The lizardfolk warrior’s hands tense on their weapons but that is their only response.

Once they are past the stairwell (and its spyhole) and heading down the passageway leading to the cavern, Igusadon mutters in Draconic, “How long will we have to put up with them!” He sighs.

Kopusuth says, “Do not worry. Once we find the Immortal King we will no longer need them. Not even King Stronghoen will be able to withstand the Immortal King. Be patient.”

Drago grunts agreement, “Nasty, vile beasts.”

Shaman G’ruk is very pleased when they return with the two, still unconscious, captives and two corpses for the lizardfolk larder. “You have done well Drago. I see that you have felt the tip of their spears. Hmm, just a scratch though. You’ll feel much better in a couple of days. It’s nothing we should waste healing potions on.” He then looks over the wounds of Iguanosuth and Atraboros and determines that their wounds also will heal in a few days time. He does, however, given one of the healing potions from Drago’s bandolier to Kopusuth who had to use one of his own to save Marvorax from death. “I trust you don’t mind if I continue to dispense the bounty that you have brought to our tribe?”

Speaking humbly, Drago says, “All that I have is yours, Shaman G’ruk.  However, may I have one of each to carry with me as well?” “Most certainly. In fact, I’ll give you two of each.” G’ruk does so.

Drago now has two cure moderate wounds potions and two gravesbane grenades.

“Now go get some rest. There will be more for you to do, but for today rest and then join us for the feast we will have later.” He looks over at the Deathwalker corpses.

“Thank you, Shaman G’ruk,” Drago says appreciatively.

Readying 18, Drago meets with Shaman G’ruk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Fade out for flashback scene as Drago reflects):

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trakoadon then ushers Drago out of the tent.

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