“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.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thundahoof stamps his hooves and snorts.

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

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

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

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

Morning, Readying 20, 591

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

Drago energetically jumps up and says, “Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pre-dawn, Readying 20, 591

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soundtrack: The Thing That Should Not Be by Metallica

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have done very well!” he hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Evening, Readying 19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

Readying 18, Drago alone in the Thracian Jungle?

Mammalian player characters should not read the following narrative! Any who dare to continue reading will have their eyes gorged out and be beaten by Gnoll patrols.

After Indranil attacks Drago, he and Lorindel escort Drago, still wearing the gray wizard hat, to the jungle at the southern edge of the city.

Drago remains stoic and silent during this ordeal. Without looking back, he heads south into the jungle on all fours, leaping with joy to be alone in the swamps once again.

When Drago thinks he is beyond their keen perceptions, he veers toward the east to begin skirting the ruined city, striving to stay hidden by the jungle brush. He looks for signs of his people and their enemies. He watches the city for clues of what lies within.

When he comes to the south eastern corner of Thracia, he rests as he watches the Deathwalkers’ villa for a short while. Then he proceeds north, still hidden by the jungle as it turns into swamp. “It almost feels like home here,” he thinks to himself.

As Drago makes this slow loop around the city, he makes a snack of the various bugs and rodents that he finds. He finally arrives at the point where jungle merges into swamp on the eastern side of the city. Drago enters into the water and begins swimming among the mossy cypresses. The water around him flows like a green, velvet carpet of leaves and algae. The ripples he makes in the surface of the swamp water, eddies out to slap lightly upon the wide, black bases of the trees that rise out of the gloom. Hoary beards of moss drip from the boughs of the trees, filtering the sunlight and casting an amber glow on the water through which Drago wades.

As Drago begins to feel a sense of peace fill him, he hears a call in Draconian. Looking up he sees that he has been spotted by a Malarat warrior who now hisses at him, “Who are you! Identify yourself!” From the ripples in the water around this warrior (who is at least 120’ away), Drago knows that other warriors are swimming towards him under the algae covered waters.

Drago realizes he’s still wearing that stupid hat and so tucks it under his bandoleer. Hissing back in Draconic, Drago says loudly, “I am Drago of the Malarat, your kinsman.”

“Well met,” replies the warrior. “I am Trakoadon and I remember you well.”

Drago realizes that he does know this warrior. Other Malarat lizardfolk emerge out of the waters around him. They are all armed with javelins, heavy clubs with ridges of alligator teeth, and shields made of turtle shell. Drago recognizes them all, though he does not know them by name. They were all members of that faction of Malarat warriors who most opposed Chief Rahk’s dealings with the “unscaled.”

Trakoadon swims closer and then asks, “So, what brings you here? How did you find us?”

Drago is over joyed to find his people. “Chief Rahk sent me on a mission with humans and half elves to fight the Deathwalkers who have been encroaching upon our tribe’s territory. But it turns out that G’ruk is right after all. The unscaled are only concerned with expanding their own territory. Most will never be on friendly terms with lizardfolk.”

The other warriors look to Trakoadon, who nods at Drago and says, “I see. I think you had better come with us. Shaman G’ruk will be happy to hear that another of our brothers has come.”

As they swam north and then west back towards the city, Trakoadon asks, “What is all this?” He gestures to the bandoleers, and in particular points to the hat with a sneer.

“Oh, I found the hat in the ruins. Don’t need it now.” Drago tosses it away into the water. Pointing to the full bandoleer, he says, “These are gravebane grenades to fight undead.” Pointing to the almost full bandoleer, he adds, “And these are curative potions. The Prince of Westkeep gave them to me to help our expedition.”

As Drago travels with his kinsmen, he watches to see if any others have the tell tale copper markings of Kopep. None of those present do.

Trakoadon stops swimming for a moment and turns to look at Drago. “This expedition you were on. They came here to fight the Deathwalkers?” It isn’t really a question though. Trakoadon has clearly guessed that they came to Thracia. “Where are they now brother Drago?”

Drago grunts assent. “They are about a mile away, brother Trakoadon.” Drago points toward the southwest.

Trakoadon mulls this over and then says, “We will tell Shaman G’ruk. He will decide what, if anything, should be done about them.” He turns away and resumes swimming, the others, nod to Drago to follow. Drago is surrounded  by warriors. They are not taking any chances that he will try to swim away.

Eventually they swim into the canal that empties into the swamp. It is in fact branch of the main canal that bisects the city, which heads off east into the swamp. They swim west up the canal for several hundred feet and then creep back out of it onto the southern bank and begin walking into the ruins on the south side. Far off to the southwest Drago can see the arena and he wonders if Indranil or Lorindel are watching from there. In any case, it is no longer visible as Trakoadon leads them into the cover of several more intact buildings. Finally the come to a ruined marble temple, with no roof and only fragmentary walls. A few trees have grown out of the floor by the entrance.

Trakoadon holds up his hand to signal to the others to stop. In Common he says, “[Password deleted].”

A voice from the trees by the entrance barks back in Common, “Go then into the dark and find the light.”

Drago looks up and sees that crouching on the upper branches at least 15’ up and hidden by the leaves are at least half a dozen gnolls with shortbows aimed at them. They put away their bows and Trakoadon beckons his small band and Drago forward into the ruins. He motions for Drago to remain silent.

Inside the ruins, Trakoadon leads them down a set of 20’ wide marble stairs that descend deep into the earth. Drago notes, before being led underground, that what is left of the interior walls have faded murals on them depicting some human god with flowing robes and a white beard hurling down lighting bolts from clouds and mountain tops on the hapless mortals below.

A little ways down, just before it gets too dark to see, Trakoadon stops the group and heads over to a small shelf inset into the wall. On it is a small clay lamp and next to that some flint and steel. Trakoadon gets the lamp lit and then they resume their trek down the  stairs, now illuminated by the flickering light of the oil lamp.

“It is better if you keep silent for now,” says Trakoadon once more speaking Draconian. “I know you must have many questions. I also find the gnolls distasteful. But we have formed a temporary alliance with them until… Well it is better if you wait and speak with Shaman G’ruk. He will explain it all to you. For now, be patient and silent.”

The stairs eventually come to an end in a large entrance hall that in the dim light Drago sees is about 50’ long and wide. Corridors lead off into the darkness to the right, left, and straight ahead. The walls were once painted in bright colors. Now faded, the scenes are of elaborate human ceremonies involving the burning of calves and other sacrifices to the gods. Other scenes show richly decorated Thracians bowing in supplication to various regally robed deities. The air in the room stinks of bat quano. Drago slips a bit on the marble floor and then looks down to see that almost half a foot of gray dung covers the floor. Tracks crisscross the fecal matter leading straight ahead and to the right. Trakoadon whispers to Drago to be careful and quiet. Then he holds the lamp up just a little, enough to show Drago that 30’ above the ceiling is covered with bats. “Do not disturb them,” he hisses. He then leads them off to the right.

They enter a ten foot wide plastered corridor that twists and turns and leads past one tripwire for a double spear trap and just past that a spear and shield bearing gnoll in leather armor in the corridor standing guard in front of a room full of more gnoll guards. Trakoadon also trades passwords with that gnoll guard in Common. Once past the guard the make their way down a long sloping passageway that turns left into a long stairwell. Drago begins to feel more and more claustrophic as they continue deeper and deeper into the earth. Drago even finds himself wondering if they are going into the infamous
Underdark.

They finally arrive at a large dry cavern filled with rubble. It is fairly dry with stalactites and stalagmites along the southeastern walls. Trakoadon leads them across the cavern, along the edge of a wall to their right. The ceiling arches up into the darkness. The cavern seems to be only about 40’ across but off to their left it stretches away into the darkness, where Drago can dimly see mounds of rubble and the beginnings of a small forest of stalactites and stalagmites where the wall of the cavern up ahead curves away into the darkness. He also hears the squakings and skittering of countless rats echoing all around. Up ahead is the entrance to a new  passageway.

The passageway is a short one however. After 20’ it opens onto a room filled with a foot of compressed garbage. On the wall to the left is a set of heavy oaken double doors bound in brass and before them another gnoll guard. Once again the passwords are exchanged and they are let through the double doors.

Beyond the double doors is another room of about the same size. This one is filthy with offal, food scraps, bits of armor, scraps of leather, broken and useless weapons, discarded boxes, broken furniture, shreds of cloth, garbage, and a motley collection of disconnected bones. On the far side of the room is another set of double doors and Drago notes that both sets of doors have heavy oaken bars that can be slid into place. Inside this trash strewn den are seven more gnolls armed with swords, battleaxes, and other weapons.  Two of them, probably commanders, are in scale mail and armed with greatswords. One of the lesser gnollsis stationed at a spy-hole in the
wall on the right. Another is cuffing and angrily growling at a wretched looking human male dressed only in a loincloth. Old scars and new bruises from repeated beatings are visible all over his body. He stutters something in the Gnoll tongue and cowers away. The gnolls ignore the lizardfolk, though Drago observes that at least one sneers at them as they pass by.

Past the second set of double doors they find another passage leading off to the right and then it turn right again they find themselves heading up a short flight of stairs to another passage that quickly turns to the left and after about 50’ they come to another natural cavern. This one has an underground river running through it. Once more the ceiling is lost in the darkness overhead as is the far bank of the underground river. Trakoadon leads them off to the left along the bank of the river and they come to a small cluster of animal skin tents surrounding a small bonfire. Drago estimates that there can’t be much more than a dozen lizardfolk that he can see, but the number of tents would indicate that thee may be at least three times that number living there.

Trakoadon tells one of the other warriors to run on ahead and alert Shaman G’ruk. He leads Drago at a slower pace to a tent larger than the others standing against the wall of the cavern, but then stops him before he can go inside. They wait and then the other warrior comes out of the tent and says, “He will see Drago.”

Trakoadon says to Drago, “You must relinquish your weapons and this,” he taps the bandolier, “before we can let you see Shaman G’ruk. Once he is sure of you, they will be returned to you.” The other five warriors stand ready in case Drago protests this precaution. It occurs to Drago that this is the kind of paranoia he had often seen among the humans, and is a little disturbed to find it here among his own kind as well.

Without a word, Drago relinquishes his weapons and bandoleers, knowing he is not without tricks if things go awry.