THE BULLYWUG GAMBIT
When Anwar, Thrisp, Basil and Marius finally reached Vanderboren Manor, they found Sepoto and Samson already there, standing outside the front gate.
“What took you so long?” the goliath asked. “Did you run into any trouble?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Anwar replied curtly. “Have you noticed any activity?”
“No,” Sepoto said. “We’ve only been here a few minutes, but it’s been quiet.”
“Well, I guess we’d best go knock and see who answers,” Anwar said, pushing open the unlocked front gates. As he passed through the portals, his form shimmered, and the Legionnaires found themselves following the semblance of Harliss Javell.
They made their way across the front courtyard, still spotting no movement from within the house. The twin front doors were also unlocked, and Anwar pushed them carefully open. The atrium beyond was made of smooth, white marble stonework. Two oak stairwells with burnished, brass railings ascended to an open first-floor landing. Tapestries hung from the upper landing, depicting a beautiful and savage frontier of sprawling jungle landscapes and an eerie shoreline. Above it all was a beautiful, glass chandelier. Incongruous among the trappings of nobility and wealth were the four frog-like humanoids standing between the two stairwells. They had greenish-yellow mottled skin, and long, flicking tongues. They wore leather jerkins, with bandoliers holding several throwing axes. Each of them gripped a rough cudgel in their webbed fingers. Two more of the creatures stood on the upper landing overlooking the atrium.
Before anyone could react, Anwar stepped forward, speaking in a very close approximation of Harliss’ voice: “I’m here to see me mate, Drevoraz!” he shouted. The bullywugs, for that is what the frog-men were, a race of swamp-dwelling amphibians known for their hatred of all things human, brandished their clubs, and pulled axes from their sleeves.
“Drevoraz!” Anwar shouted again, this time calling louder. “Ye’d best come get hold o’yer men, boyo, or there’ll be hell t’pay!”
Silence again, punctuated only by the slapping feet of the bullywugs on the marble floor, and their guttural croaking. Anwar shrugged and stepped behind Sepoto.
“They’re all yours,” he said.
The crusader stepped forward, his chain dangling from his hands. One look at his eyes told the frog-men that this was their enemy. They would have to get past him if they wanted to taste human blood this day. Nevertheless, on they came…until the floor beneath them suddenly became slick with grease, sending two of them tumbling to the ground.
“No thanks necessary,” Basil smiled as Sepoto glared at him.
“Hmm,” Marius grunted. “We could’ve used that little trick with the stiltwalkers.”
Sepoto rushed forward as the frog-men tried to regain their feet. A flashing blow to the head from the goliath’s chain insured that the first one would never rise again. One of those still on its feet advanced towards the crusader, but he too was cut down before he could move more than a pace. Whirling his chain above his head, Sepoto brought it down solidly on the other bullywug still struggling in the grease. Its struggles ceased permanently. He turned towards the last one, but then he heard the twang of a bowstring and a hiss as a bolt streaked past his head to bury itself in the frog-man’s neck. It dropped in a heap.
“We don’t need no stinkin’ fighters,” Marius smiled.
The pair of warriors on the upper landing chose that moment to hurl their axes at Sepoto. The goliath effortlessly batted aside both missiles and moved to the foot of the stairs as the bullywugs hurried down them, one on each side. They never made it to the ground floor as the crusader’s chain flashed out towards each one, cracking each of their skulls like overripe melons.
“What do you make of this?” Thrisp asked as Sepoto began cleaning his weapon.
“I’d say that Drevoraz apparently has friends in low places,” Anwar replied, and then he called out again: “Drevoraz! Last chance lad! I’d hate t’have t’kill all yer hired help! It’s me, Harliss! There’s been a change o’plans!” No answer. “I’ll guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” the bard said to the others. “We’ll go room-to-room.”
___________________________________________________________
From the atrium, they proceeded to make a counter-clockwise circuit of the house, passing first through the library, which was empty, and on to the gallery, which was equally deserted. Beyond that was the exhibit hall, which displayed many hunting trophies, such as great, saber-toothed cats, a crouching deinonychus, a bloated toad the size of a pony, and a strange, badger-like creature with golden fur and eight legs. There was also a more mundane assortment of leopards, wolves and bears. The carpet in the room was terribly stained with mud, especially around a door in the northeast corner. The source of the tracks was readily apparent, as six more bullywug warriors rose from hiding positions behind various displays and croaked a challenge.
Anwar sighed, and motioned Sepoto and Samson forward. The bullywugs charged, but the outcome of the brief-but-violent struggle was never in question. In short order, all six lay dead at the feet of the crusader and the dragon shaman.
“We don’t need no stinkin’ wizards,” Sepoto jeered.
Anwar knew that the door through which the bullywugs had obviously come led to the basement. It was likely that was their point of entry, since a small stream which fed an interior courtyard, also ran through the cellar. He had told Lavinia in the past that it was dangerous to have such a vulnerable point in her home, but she had assured him that she was not worried since there were iron gates which blocked direct entrance into the house. It would appear that he had been proven right, and hopefully Lavinia would live to regret her error in judgment. Still, before he led the group down there, he wanted to be sure the washroom and small privy off the trophy hall were not hiding more of the frog-men.
The washroom and was empty, and so to was the privy at first glance, but Thrisp’s sharp eyes, with his gnomish knack for stonework, picked out a small irregularity in the back wall. As he ran his hands over the stone, he found an all-but-invisible seam which outlined a hidden door. It took him no time to discover its hidden latch and swing the portal open. The walls of the stone-floored room beyond were lined with weapon and armor racks, many of which were empty. Still remaining on the walls were a silvery bastard sword, a light crossbow, a glowing dagger, a suit of studded leather armor, a light steel shield, and a small wooden coffer. The coffer lay on its side, the lid open and its contents, several potion vials and a pair of boots, strewn on the floor. Slumped on the ground nearby was what appeared to be a recently slain dwarf.
Anwar moved into the room to get a closer look at the dwarf, and that’s when he saw that it was Kaskus Kiel, a druid who was a member of the Jade Ravens. He leaned in, closer still.
“He’s not dead,” he said after a moment.
“Not far from it, though, from the looks of this,” Basil said, opening the druid’s robes to reveal a deep burn mark in his chest. “Magic Missile I’d guess,” the mage observed. “Probably sprung a trap on the coffer.”
“I knew it!” Thrisp shouted. “I never trusted that lot from the first time I saw them! They’ve betrayed Lavinia. It was probably them that let in Drevoraz and the bullywugs, then when they were trying to rob the armory, tree-hugger there didn’t plan on the trap and bought it. His cronies must have left him for dead.”
“Now, now,” Anwar said, “let’s not be too hasty. I have no love for the Ravens myself. They have a way of…being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, I find it hard to believe they would ever sell out Lavinia. They’ve been in the service of the Vanderboren’s for years.”
“Yeah, and now that we’re here, maybe they felt like they were being moved out and decided to get a little payback,” Thrisp sneered.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Anwar replied.
The bard’s form shimmered once more, Harliss Javell’s face replaced with that of Lavinia Vanderboren. Pulling a healing wand from his belt, Anwar tapped it gently on the dwarf’s chest, but not before removing his gear and placing it safely inside the coffer. With a gasp and a start, Kaskus jerked awake, staring about wildly.
“Relax old friend,” Anwar soothed in Lavinia’s voice, “you’re safe now. It’s me, and I have the Legion with me.”
Kaskus’ breathing slowed marginally, and tears welled up in his eyes. “I thought ye were dead, lass!” he cried. “How did ye escape?”
“The Legion arrived in the nick of time,” Anwar answered. “What are you doing down here?”
“After I escaped the battle in the courtyard,” Kaskus replied, “I came here, like ye told me, tryin’ t’find weapons to use against them cursed frog-spawn! I didn’t know about th’trap, and I was already injured from the fight. Where are the others?”
“They’re safe,” Anwar said. “They’re upstairs resting in my chambers. Kaskus, I have to ask you something difficult, and I want you to answer me truthfully. Did you or any of the other Jade Ravens have anything to do with the bullywugs getting in here?”
Kaskus’ eyes widened again, and his face flushed red. “No! Never! How can ye ask such a thing?”
“Tell us what happened exactly,” Thrisp interrupted. “Lavinia suffered a pretty stout blow to the head, and her memory of events is a bit fuzzy.”
Kaskus hesitated a moment, but at a nod from Anwar he told his tale. “The frogs came in through th’basement. We seen’em in the courtyard from upstairs…them an’ that orc half-breed what was with’em. We came down t’meet’em, the Ravens and Lavinia that is, and they decided t’put up a fight. There was too many of’em. We couldn’t hold’em back! They…they killed Brunthus, me badger! One-by-one the Raven’s went down. That’s when Lavinia told me t’run fer it and get help. I made it here, and then ye know th’rest.”
When he’d finished his story, Anwar nodded. “It’s coming back to me bit by bit. Listen Kaskus. The Legion has cleared out the upper levels of the house, but we think there may still be a large group hold up in the basement. We’re going down there next.”
“Then let me come with ye!” the dwarf shouted. “I’ll be wantin’ blood fer blood!”
“You’re still to weak, my friend,” Anwar said, “and it appears the bullywugs took your gear. No, I want you to go upstairs and retrieve the Ravens. There are healing potions in my room. Once your wounds are tended, go for the Watch. Tell them what has happened and bring them here.” Anwar quickly shot a warning glance to the other Legionnaires. None of them said a word. Kaskus reluctantly agreed. Anwar helped him to his feet and the dwarf limped across the trophy hall, heading back towards the atrium.
“What are you doing?” Thrisp asked, turning to Anwar when Kaskus had left the room.
“What do you think?” the bard smirked.
“I think you’re sending him to his death, that’s what I think!” the gnome shouted.
“Calm yourself and let’s be rational about this,” Anwar said. “You yourself said you didn’t trust the Ravens. I’m not sure I do either. In any case, I think the Ravens have outlived their usefulness. We serve Lavinia now. The Ravens haven’t liked you from the start, and that’s only going to get worse with each service you do for Lavinia. Think about it! We’ve all received the Spire of Tashluta. We’re heroes of the city! We’ve retrieved Lavinia’s money, uncovered a plot to sabotage the city’s shipping industry, and now we are about to save Lavinia and the Ravens. Do you think they’re going to thank us? No. In fact, I believe it will only be a matter of time before they turn for real. Think of this as a preemptive strike.” He looked intently from face to face. He could see that not all of them grasped this line of thought, or if they did, they didn’t agree, but none of them spoke up. Not one. Morals were like rusty gears…difficult to budge, but once greased, they turned smoothly.
__________________________________________________________
It really was Anwar’s intent to go to the basement next, for he truly believed this was were the incursion had occurred, and they had to make sure no reinforcements would be coming. The door in the northeast corner of the exhibit hall lead to a narrow stairwell going down. Sepoto took the lead. He had gone no more than a handful of steps when he heard the sounds of deep, slobbery laughter, followed by a woman’s cries of distress and a weird, trilling chitter echo up from below. Cautiously, gripping his chain tighter, he continued down.
The stairway opened into a large, open cellar. Water from the central pool in the courtyard above flowed through the chamber, cascading through a grate in the south wall and then out through a second grate to the north. The second grate was nearly completely rusted through. Only a few jagged shards of metal remained. Great swaths of mud covered the floor. Five bullywugs were gathered on the far side of the stream. Four of them were armed and armored similarly to the ones they had fought above, but the fifth was larger and wartier. He was dressed in tough, hide armor and he sat upon an overstuffed chair from the study as if it were a makeshift throne. A wooden crown fitted with moonstones rested upon his brown and a large greatclub sat at his side. On the near side of the rivulet stood a woman dressed in nothing but a tattered sheet, into which was threaded three silver spoons and one fork. She clutched the shroud tightly about her, struggling to keep it away from the strange creature that menaced her. It was about the size of a small pony, with four insect-like legs and a squat, humped body protected by a thick, lumpy hide. Its tail was covered in armor plates and ended in a bony projection that looked like a double-ended paddle. It sported two long antennae on its head, one beneath each eye. This was the source of the strange chittering.
Sepoto recognized the woman. She was Liamae Teslikaria, the sorceress of the Jade Ravens. She recognized him too, and a look of relief flooded her frightened eyes. Sepoto felt a pang of guilt as he thought of what they had just done to her teammate. His recriminations were cut short, however, when the large bullywug noticed his presence.
“Chunkus, feed!” the chieftain burbled.
At that moment, Thrisp darted past the goliath, a spell on his lips as he entered the room. A now-familiar surge of blinding color flashed from his hands, and the bullywug chief cried out as he clawed at his eyes. Simultaneously, Thrisp vanished…just as Chunkus scuttled forward.
Sepoto braced himself for the creature’s charge, but was surprised when it stopped just short of him, and gently extended its antennae, brushing them over his armor. What happened next horrified the goliath. Every spot that the antennae touched immediately began to rust. Soon, great, gaping holes appeared, and moments after that, his entire suit of plate mail crumbled from his body. He stood only in his under-padding. Before he could even begin to fathom what had happened, the creature reached out to caress his chain. Sepoto found himself unarmored, and bare-handed.
Marius was next down the stairs. Shouldering his way past the still-dumbfounded goliath, he spoke a spell and fired a blast of scorching flame from his hand at the rust monster. The beast squealed and recoiled. By this time, however, the four bullywug warriors were advancing. They hurled their handaxes at the vulnerable goliath, but thanks to the bulky form of Chunkus blocking their line of sight, their throws went wide. Suddenly, Liamae was in motion. Uttering the words to a spell, she pointed at the nearest frog-man, whose eyes met hers.
“Follow me,” she commanded, and the bullywug nodded obediently. She started towards the stairs, but found her way blocked by the still squealing form of Chunkus.
“I’ve enthralled that one,” she called to the Legionnaires, indicating her victim. “Let him pass with me.”
At that moment, Basil appeared on the stairs. From this vantage, he had a clear view of the rust monster, confident he could slay it with one spell. The only problem was that Liamae had inadvertently placed herself in his line of fire. The young wizard considered for a moment…and then something inside him snapped. ‘You must be the help Lavinia’s bringing in to do the chores!’ The words echoed back to him from his first encounter with the Jade Ravens, and he realized that Anwar was right. These pompous fools needed to be eliminated before they became a problem. Darkness seeping into his heart, he unleashed his spell. A tumultuous shower of ice and snow rained down upon the rust beast…and upon Liamae as well. Chunkus collapsed under the deluge, as did Liamae. Basil saw a momentary look of shock in her eyes before she was buried. It brought a small smile to his lips.
Sepoto shook himself out of his shock and reached over his shoulder, drawing the silvered bastard sword he had taken from Lavinia’s armory. He swung, momentarily misjudging the amount of strength needed to use the lighter weapon. As a consequence, he decapitated the bullywug Liamae had charmed rather than just cutting its throat. Then the other bullywugs were all around him, as well as the chief, who had by now recovered his eyesight. Marius caught the charging leader with a second scorching ray, but unfortunately, the warmage found himself by Sepoto’s side, and equally surrounded. One of the frog-men caught him across the shoulder with its club and Marius heard something crack. Then he heard something else: “Switcheroo,” Basil said, and a moment later Marius was back on the stairwell, staring down at Samson who had taken his place next to the goliath.
Lorpth, for that was the bullywug chief’s name, was enraged. He had already grown sick of the pinkskins before this new band had arrived, and he was anxious to get back to his home in the swamps. He had settled for amusing himself with his game between Chunkus and the pinkskin woman, promising her freedom if she could keep at least one piece of silver away from the rust monster. Now Chunkus was dead, and so was his plaything. Someone was going to pay. He hefted his club and rushed the big, gray-skinned giant before him, but just before he swung, he was struck again by the same blinding flash of colors, leaving his eyes dancing with spots. His swing cleaved only air, and then the stone wall of the cellar as it narrowly missed Sepoto’s head.
Thrisp vanished from sight again as quickly as he had appeared, but then he reappeared a moment later as a beautiful, rainbow spray of light arced from his fingers, engulfing all of the remaining bullywugs. The three warriors collapsed to the floor, unconscious, while the chief stood reeling, his club slipping from his fingers, drool dripping from his mouth. Sepoto grinned. Sheathing the bastard sword, he retrieved the chief’s club, measured its heft for a moment, then swung it full speed at the bullywug’s head. It impacted with a satisfying thud, but, to the goliath’s disappointment, the skull didn’t shatter. The chief was jarred out of his stupor, however, and he quickly bent to retrieve one of his minion’s war clubs. Just then Samson opened his mouth, and something amazing happened. A spray of hissing acid came out of his throat, as if he truly did have dragon blood. The scorching liquid struck Lorpth, as well as two of his downed warriors. As the chieftain recoiled from the pain, Sepoto hit him again. Pleased with himself, Samson lifted his morningstar and began systematically killing the unconscious frog-men. Lorpth roared in anger, his vision clearing once more. Lunging at Sepoto, he caught the goliath a solid blow to his ribs. The crusader grunted, but quickly countered, ramming the head of the greatclub into Lorpth’s gut. As the bullywug doubled over, Samson hammered the back of his head with his weapon, and Lorpth fell as if pole-axed…dead.
Anwar stepped into the room, surveying the scene with satisfaction. His eyes fell upon the frozen form of Liamae.
“Pity,” he said, shaking his head. He then picked up one of the bullywugs’ clubs and caved in her head. “She died nobly,” he said, “in the line of duty, serving her mistress.” He casually tossed the club aside and walked back up the stairs.
__________________________________________________________
Huntress Lorb-Lorb Tub, mate to chief Lorpth, reclined at the table in the private dining hall, enjoying the box of fine cigars she had found in the sideboard. She and her six hunters had heard the sounds of battle resume in the house, but Lorb-Lorb Tub was not concerned. The same could not be said for her warriors. They paced nervously, their eyes on the doors and windows, jumping at each new sound and croaking in agitation. Lorb-Lorb Tub ignored them. She found this whole raid to be a ridiculous waste of time, and wondered why Lorpth had let that pinkskin talk them into coming. She had refused to take part in the initial attack, and she wasn’t about to spoil what little enjoyment she’d found by joining in any new battle. That was until the door burst open.
The first thing that caught Lorb-Lorb Tub’s eye was the gray-skinned giant standing in the doorway. He was wearing Lorpth’s crown. He was carrying Lorpth’s club. The huntress felt her mind go red, and the shouts of her hunters became muted. Her vision narrowed, blocking out everything else in the room except the creature that had obviously slain her mate. Her warriors were already closing to engage the intruders when Lorb-Lorb Tub hurled the dining table aside, drew a pair of axes from her bandolier and leaped towards the goliath.
Sepoto saw the big bullywug coming, but he had more immediate concerns with the six that were already in front of him. Swinging the chief’s club like a tree trunk, he crushed the chest of the nearest one. As he pushed forward into the room before the others could surround him, Samson stepped behind him and once again unleashed his corrosive breath. A second bullywug fell, while two more croaked in agony as their flesh boiled. Then the big female was on him. Her wide mouth frothed, and her eyes were shot red with blood. Snarling and croaking she swung her axes like a thing possessed. One connected with Sepoto’s right arm, and he felt it go momentarily numb. Just then the air erupted in snow and ice, another of Basil’s effective storms, and two more of the bullywug warriors fell, but not the female. She barely seemed to notice. Samson and Sepoto both turned their full attention to her, hammering at her with their clubs, but she never slowed, not even when the big crusader felt several of her ribs crack beneath one of his mighty blows. She ignored Samson completely. Her full attention was on Sepoto, and despite his best efforts, she scored strike after strike against him. Focusing his mind, he damped down his pain, slowed his bleeding and his heart rate, but he knew he could only keep it up for so long. Then one of the warriors struck him as well. His reflexes were slowing. Another of the hunters struck Samson. Sepoto’s vision blurred. Blindly, he lifted the greatclub above him and brought it down with all his strength, right on top of Lorb-Lorb Tub’s head, all but burying her skull in her chest. She fell with one final croak, twitching once as she hit the floor. Sepoto fell right behind her, the massive blood loss he’d suffered taking its toll. Samson found himself alone facing the two remaining bullywugs. He squared off against them, prepared to defend his flanks, but then one fell, and then the other, the first’s chest pierced by a flaming eldritch bolt, the second’s heart pierced by a quarrel.
“Stinkin’ fighters,” Marius said, stroking the stock of his crossbow.
Anwar felt for Sepoto’s pulse, and found it, weak but still present. Forcing the goliath’s mouth open, he poured one healing draught after another down his gullet. After a few moments, Sepoto was standing again, but nursing a splitting headache.
“We’re not going to find Lavinia down here,” Anwar said at length. “If she’s still alive, she’s upstairs…where we sent Kaskus. This is just the rear guard. Drevoraz is up there with her. It’s time to flush him out.”
The bard’s form shifted once more, the aspect of Harliss Javell facing the party again. He led them back to the atrium, and up the near stairs to the second floor landing. Pausing there, he called out, “Drevoraz! Look what ye’ve made me do! Here I’ve had t’go an’ kill all yer cronies! Say something, lad, so’s I know yer still alive! Drevoraz? Can you hear me?”
________________________________________________________
This time Drevoraz did hear. He had heard the battles on the lower levels and had assumed the city constables had arrived. He’d continued biding his time, waiting to play his ace-in-the-hole. The last voice he expected to hear was that of Harliss. He immediately suspected a trap.
“Cap’n?” he called back. “That you?”
After a momentary pause, she answered, “Aye! Who else would it be? Where are ya, boyo?”
Drevoraz still was not convinced. He’d been around wizards enough to know they had spells that could disguise their voices. He glanced over at Bua Gorg, but the priest’s hooded eyes showed no expression.
“I’m on the third floor!” he called back finally. “In the far bedchamber! Come on up Cap’n, but come alone! If there’s any with ye that I don’t know, there’ll be trouble!”
______________________________________________________
Anwar smiled at his companions and gave them a thumbs-up.
“Thrisp, you’ll come with me,” he said. “The rest of you wait here. Wait for my signal.”
“Signal?” Sepoto asked.
“Stand together,” Thrisp instructed, and when they obeyed, he wove a spell. “Can you hear me?” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, yet each of the company heard him quite clearly.
“It’s a Message spell,” he explained. “As long as there are no walls or doors between us, I can speak to you through it. I’ll tell you when to come.” The gnome then cast a second spell, rendering himself invisible, and followed Anwar up to the third floor.
“I’m alone,” he called when he reached the upper landing. “There’d best be no more froggies twixt me and you,” he continued. “Me blades tasted enough o’there blood already.”
“It’s clear,” he heard Drevoraz answer from behind a pair of doors at the end of the hall…Lavinia’s parent’s room. He moved down the hall confidently, sensing Thrisp behind him. Pausing only for a moment outside the doors, he turned the knob and entered. The room beyond was dark and cloying. All of the shutters were closed and the air smelled of a rank combination of body odor and swamp mud. The desk, chairs, and most of the other furniture had all been draped with white canvas dust covers, giving the room the eerie feeling of a tomb. Lavinia had not yet felt comfortable moving out of her childhood chambers into the master. Only the large four-poster bed in the northwest corner had been uncovered, its dust drape lying in a heap at the side.
Several things drew Anwar’s eye as his vision adjusted to the gloom. The first was the body of Kaskus Kiel, which lay only a few feet inside the door, face down in a pool of drying blood. Next were the four figures tied to chairs, back-to-back, in the center of the room. Two of them were obviously unconscious. They were the two remaining members of the Jade Ravens, Tolin Kientai and Zan Oldavin. The third was Kora Whistlegap, Lavinia’s elderly halfling servant, and she was just as obviously dead, her throat slit. Last was Lavinia herself. Her back was to Anwar, but she was alive and conscious. Standing before her was a muscular half-orc dressed in studded leathers and decorated with numerous tattoos. He was missing his right eye, an ugly scar grown over the socket. He held the blade of a scimitar against Lavinia’s throat. Drevoraz, no doubt, Anwar thought. There was one final figure in the room, another bullywug, though surely the most grotesque the bard had seen so far. He had sickly yellow skin, and a sagging throat pouch, disgustingly deflated by an old wound. As he breathed, the pouch sucked and dribbled noisily. He sat in a chair in the far corner of the chamber, swaddled in a dripping sheet with only his head showing above it.
Drevoraz’ one good eye narrowed as he looked at Anwar. The bard sneered as he’d seen Harliss do, mimicking her mannerisms perfectly.
“I’ll be skewered,” Drevoraz said, “it really is you!” He relaxed the pressure of his blade against Lavinia’s pale flesh, but did not remove it. “What are ye doin’ here Capn’? Ye’re wanted in these parts!”
Anwar ignored the question for a moment. “Ye’ve done a fine job here, lad,” he said. “Our plan with the bullywugs went just like we’d hoped. Ye were right t’be cautious and not trust it were me just from the sound of me voice.” He then reached to his ear and removed the earring that Harliss had given him, tossing it to Drevoraz. Finally, the half-orc relaxed completely, allowing his scimitar to drop to his side.
“Then why’d ye go an’ kill’em all, Capn’?” he asked, puzzled.
“The scalawags didn’t recognize me!” Anwar said, incredulous. “Weren’t till I found the chief that th’rest o’em stopped fightin’. He’s down roundin’ up the survivors now. I had t’come in person because that devil Vanthus came back after ye left, and I had t’kill’im.” Anwar saw Lavinia’s back stiffen at his words. “Now I want th’satisfaction o’doin’ fer what’s left o’his family meself. I want ye t’gather up what loot you and the frogs can carry, an’ wait for me in the cellar. Take that one with ye too.” He pointed at the seated frog-man. It was the bullywug who answered, however.
“Dagon demands blood,” he croaked. “Bua Gorg stay and witness for Dagon.”
“Suit yeself,” Anwar shrugged. “But you get goin’,” she said to Drevoraz. “When I’m done here, we’d best be on our way before the Watch gets wind o’trouble.”
Drevoraz nodded and sheathed his weapon as he crossed the room.
“It’s good t’see ye again, Capn’,” he said, pausing to clasp Anwar’s shoulder. Then he turned and headed for the stairs.
_______________________________________________________
“He’s coming!” All of the Legionnaires heard Thrisp’s voice in their ears, and they moved quickly to take up positions out of sight of the upper landing. At that moment, Drevoraz appeared at the top of the stairs, and started down. He was half-way, when he felt his feet start to slip from under him. Looking down, he saw that the remaining risers were coated in some kind of greasy film. Then he saw movement at the base of the stairs, and two figures stepped from the shadows, one a massive brute wielding an equally massive club, the other a dark-haired human slapping a morningstar into the palm of his hand.
“It’s a trap!” he shouted back up the stairs, and then the two were moving towards him.
___________________________________________________
Anwar walked casually across the room, pausing at the fire place and tossing a couple of logs on the rack. As he bent to start a fire, he looked at Bua Gorg out of the corner of his eye, and began to speak. His words were calm, soothing…tailored exactly to what the bullywug wanted to hear.
“We’ll be takin’ our time with this lot,” he said. “That god o’yours, Dagon is it? He’ll get his blood alright, in spades. Pity ye already killed the halfling and the dwarf, but at least ye still left me three. Their death’ll be slow, I promise ye that, just like that bitch’s brother. For what he done, his family’ll curse’im forever when they follow’im t’the hells.”
Anwar saw that his words were working their magic. The bullywug was relaxing, hanging on his ever sentence, the thought of blood being spilled causing his sickening breathing to quicken. It was at that moment that Drevoraz shouted from below. Bua Gorg’s eyes darted towards the open door.
“Don’t worry about that,” Anwar continued, his voice never losing its soothing edge. “Drevoraz can deal with it.” Bua Gorg nodded slowly, and focused once more on the myriad ways that Anwar promised to appease Dagon.
Meanwhile, Thrisp had slipped quietly behind Lavinia, and leaned close to whisper in her ear, “It’s me, Thrisp,” he said. She gasped, but to her credit, she cut it off quickly. “Don’t worry,” the gnome reassured her. “We have everything under control.” She nodded imperceptibly and whispered back, “Don’t you worry about me. I’m already loose.”
Thrisp looked down and saw that it was true. She had somehow managed to slip free of her bonds and was only shamming. He nodded in appreciation.
___________________________________________________
Samson and Sepoto both struck the off-balance pirate, but he never lost his footing. Instead, he pivoted in the grease, sliding a few inches, and slashed back-handed at the goliath. Then several things happened at once. Basil loosed a volley of arcane missiles, which struck with unerring precision. Simultaneously Samson unleashed his breath weapon, and Sepoto focused all his marshal prowess into one massive blow. Drevoraz went down before he even knew what hit him. Quickly, the company started up the stairs.
______________________________________________________
Bua Gorg glanced towards the doors again as he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps.
“That must be Drevoraz and your lads returnin’ with th’loot,” Anwar said.
“Bua Gorg heard you tell to wait in cellar,” the bullywug rumbled, suspicion in his voice. Anwar looked thoughtful, then nodded. “You know, I think you’re right. Unfortunate for you.” The bard then began a sing-song chant. Bua Gorg felt a strange, uncontrollable feeling come over him. From deep in his belly it rose, rising up through his gullet and into his throat, finally erupting as gales of hideous, croaking laughter. He couldn’t control himself. He fell from his seat to the floor, where he rolled about, cackling maniacally.
Lavinia quickly leaped to her feet and rushed to the side of the strange woman.
“Anwar?” she asked. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, my love,” the bard answered. “You’re safe now.”
At that moment, Sepoto and the others rushed into the room.
“Kill him,” Anwar said, pointing towards the guffawing toad. “He shouldn’t give you too much trouble.”
Sepoto and Samson nodded, rushing towards the prone creature, and began striking at him again and again. Despite their best efforts, however, Bua Gorg managed to climb to his feet, the laughter slowly abating. With a massive effort, he shoved past them, rushing in a rage towards Anwar and Lavinia.
“Dagon must have blood!” he screamed.
Suddenly, Lavinia drew the rapier from Anwar’s scabbard and stepped to interpose herself between Bua Gorg and her lover.
“Lavinia don’t!” Anwar shouted, just as the bullywug raised a spear to pierce her. The blow never fell, however as Sepoto rose up behind him and smashed Lorpth’s club down on his spine.
Besides MoM oozes coolness.
