Amàrad 28, 653 DR. The evening arrives and Vorén picks up a package. Aljùrad meets group and escorts them to meet with the Dragul hunters. The party crosses the palace demesne, avoiding many guards. At the mound, guards are dispatched and the mound is opened. The ancient Dragul devastates group. A bargain for survivors.
Continued from Twelve Conspirators.
Palìnor, 28 Amàrad 653 DR
Izzàradràgulð waited patiently in her lair for her new servants to arrive. It had been some time since she had needed eyes and hands in the outside world, but things were changing now. She could not afford to be without instruments in the land.
In another place not far distant, the priestess of Baláras sat within a circle of burning candles. She watched the curling smoke take the forms of angels, screaming and pleading “Beware! Beware fair priestess, most favored of the Protector, Beware!” In another part of the city the ghostly pale Vorén picked up a package of black leather armor and examined its stitches and fastenings with approval. Elsewhere, others sat about in anxious quiet, waiting to be contacted for what would very possibly be their last night in the city, in the kingdom, or alive.
Vorén returned to the house of Zuroolly with the tan-skinned Aljùrad in tow. The desert native waited until all were readied and then led them through the steamy city streets toward a waiting boat on the riverside. Quietly they made their way across the slow moving Run Sùlūð, Aljùrad hanging near the boat’s edge staring off toward the far shore. The boatman paused at the desert-man’s command, and then oared to shore, again at Aljùrad’s command. On the shore, Aljùrad led the group through roads and alleys, stopping and hiding moments before patrolling soldiers came into view, or could be heard. In this manner, he led the group toward the palace wall and into the High Lady’s demesne. Within the trees they met with the rest of the group, all dressed and armed for the terrible business ahead.
Moving through the dense and dark forest and vines, they came to the long road detailed on Parrak’s map. The road stretched between the palace and the great mound, with its fourteen stone doors. When the mound came into view they found it guarded by soldiers, marching warily around its perimeter.
The group moved forward. Halágir stood before one of the large stone doors and wove a spell. At first there was no effect, but then a dark hole irised out from the door’s center, creating an entrance into the great mound. Soon, the adventurers were moving into the dark halls within.
Inside the mound, those that could see discovered that the interior was not as they’d guessed. Instead of tunnels and halls, the interior was vast and empty, a large gulf and pit opened beyond a narrow walkway that circled the room. As they took in the great emptiness, Aljùrad gave off a gurgling scream as blood erupted from his face. Nearby, the warrior Narsk clutched his head and collapsed into fits. Morgōmir snapped to attention, gazing out into the dark. These are the words he heard:
“Welcome Morgōmir. Seldom do I receive visitors. Very seldom. But I see that you are not of a mind for pleasantries. I miss the ages when enemies could speak. Now, in this Mortal age, it is all about business. Know then that I would have enjoyed speaking with you, learning your thoughts and ambitions, knowing tales to tell future visitors who might ask `Who was this brave warrior?’ But you are my guest. So hospitality dictates, that I must abide by your wishes. So be it. Be comforted that your pain will be short. I take no pleasure in what comes next.
Morgōmir tore himself free of the monster’s hold, and charged to the walkway’s edge. There were no stairs there, only a cliff and shadows. The paladin commanded for his people to attack the beast, but none could see it. Goom was at Morgōmir’s heels as he ran forward, but the Isthmic native did not hesitate at the cliff’s edge. Instead the black warrior leapt into the darkness, magics carrying him forward into the void. Above Goom’s head, his club emitted a chilling moan that was soon all that could be sensed as his trajectory carried him from view. Narsk regained himself, grabbed his weapon and vaulted over the cliff’s edge. Llyàndara laid her hands upon Aljùrad, calling him back from death. Kilàra stood by Morgōmir for an instant, and then darted off along the room’s perimeter, looking for a better angle. Parrak, pulling his cloak about him, jumped onto the nearest wall and then sprinted out along the bow of the chamber’s domed ceiling, hoping to drop upon and sink his wounding sword into the monster.
As Goom’s trajectory changed and his descent began, the warrior saw a frightful shape. Far from the aid of his comrades, the warrior beheld a thing that was not a monster at all. It was much, much, too large. As he sailed through the shadows toward the beast, the great club Grombormog moaned with the deaths of a thousand souls. A lifetime of charging the club brought to bear on a single swing, but Goom realized the blow would never land. The great and ancient wyrm reared back and breathed.
Missing notes. Ferveo, Silda, Vorén, and Zuroolly are spared and given instruction. The group is given gifts and told to return Rallēa Adjàdâr and avenge the death of the living High Lady.
Continued in The Way to Zembra.
- Ferveo Cælestis
- Talôr Dal-Vorenen
- Silda of Wurm
- Zuroolly Hicubaba
- Aljùrad Dàrjani of Caphar (Blood Master, Zin Vìrāel): killed
- Goom (Warrior): killed
- Izzàradràgulð (Dragul of Jædð)
- Kilàra (Dragul-slayer)
- Llyàndra (Priestess of Baláras): killed
- Morgōmir (Paladin): killed
- Narsk (Warrior): missing
- Halágir Nōst (Wizard): killed
- Parrak (Rogue): killed
Played: 16 Mar 2001; Note: Thanks to Brian and Chris for helping with Parrak and Narsk.