Session #12.15 - Embertongue and the Adonix
Mr. North, the self-proclaimed Mage of Many Colors, dismissed the two priests of the Church of the Small. "I no longer need your services," he said. "Thank you for you help. I would recommend you return to your horses as quickly as you can and take advantage of what daylight is left to head back to Water Break." The old man and the boy nodded and by torchlight traveled back up the long, winding stairwell to the ogre's lair.
The wizard then led Rurik, the Shadow, and Pungab (his red, demonically-armored bodyguard), through the ruined dwarven settlement. Rurik, resigned to the magical domination Mr. North had placed him under, followed quietly. He had a vague recollection of fighting an augmented giant, and then things became a bit fuzzy after that. The priest of the church of the small had resurrected him, and that made him worried about the fate of his friends.
Mr. North asked Rurik to lead them as far as he could, and the dwarf took them through the secret passage between the refinery and the forges. He noted that the far end of the passageway showed considerable signs of damage. Melting, to be more specific. The surface of the stone had been melted into a glassy sheen. By his estimation, only magic or dragon breath could get that hot. He prayed to Moradin that his friends had escaped ahead of the dragon.
As the group exited into the forge, Rurik got a good jolt. There, crumpled on the floor before him, was his own body. Or rather, he noted with relief, just his armor and some equipment. His body was gone - probably an effect of the resurrection process. His magic full-plate armor had been horribly damaged. Judging by the amount of congealed blood on the floor, Rurik guessed that the giant had sliced him clean in two. It was surrealistically grizzly. To his immense relief, though, the only other bodies in the area were those of the flying ogres and the half-mechanical fire giant. So his friends had prevailed after all!
The small group eventually made their way up a long shaft and entered an enormous cavern. Sprawling across nearly a half mile was the ruins of what had once been a great city of admittedly alien architecture. There were some similarities to dwarven architecture, but the scale was clearly different...larger. The cavern was dimly lit in an orange-red glow coming from a courtyard along the north side. Mr. North confidently led them in that direction.
Rounding a crumbled pile of white marble, they finally got a good look at the dragon and its hoard. In the center of a circular courtyard was a deep trench in which sat the four missing magical smelters from the refinery. The dragon was perched on a wide circular platform in the center of the trench; the hot orange glow of the smelters reflecting off its scales only heightened the agitated demeanor of the beast. Mounds of gold and treasure were arranged about the platform and a single, narrow bridge arched across the trench. Rurik was stricken by the dragon's fearsome presence, but at the same time had the wits to realize that the dragon had to be relatively young for its species.
The dragon, which was well aware of their presence, leapt across the trench and glided across the courtyard. Rurik was convinced that it would burn them all where they stood. Mr. North, however, called out to the dragon just before it landed.
"Embertongue!" the Mage of Many Colors yelled. The dragon pulled up just short of them and landed, stone cracking under its claws. It regarded the half-elf coolly.
"You are the dragon Embertongue, daughter of the mighty Pyroclasm, are you not?" Mr. North said.
"Perhaps," Embertongue said in a surprisingly smooth voice that dripped with cunning and guile. She studied Mr. North very carefully. It lowered its head down to the half-elf's level in inhaled deeply. It was sniffing him, Rurik realized.
"And I know who you are, half-elf," the dragon said. Its breath was hot and noxious. "Why do you trespass in my domain, wizard?"
"I come to offer an arrangement that should be mutually beneficial," Mr. North said. "The pedestal upon which you keep your hoard, you've no doubt sensed its powerful magic?"
"Of course I have," Embertongue snapped.
"But I am guessing that you have been unable to determine what it is or how it works?" Mr. North said.
Embertongue paused, as if weighing its response. "It is an artifact of an ancient race, no doubt," she said. "I suppose you think you know what it is?"
"It has taken many years of research," Mr. North said, "but I do indeed know what it is called, what it is capable of, and how to operate it."
"Indeed," Embertongue said, admirably concealing her interest. "There are few man creatures I would listen to. Speak your mind quickly so I may decide whether your proposal interests me or if I should burn you where you stand."
Rurik was certainly cowed by the dragon, but Mr. North seemed rather comfortable with the situation. Even the dragon, for its bravado, seemed unusually accommodating to the half-elf. The implications bothered the dwarf on a deep level.
"The platform is a magical artifact called the Adonix," Mr. North said, “indeed a relic of an ancient civilization. They used it to transport people and goods through space and across the multiverse of planes with unerring accuracy.”
“You believe it to still be functional after millennia inactive?” Embertongue said.
“I certainly hope so,” Mr. North said. “My proposal is this: I need to use the Adonix to reach an otherwise inaccessible place. I expect to be gone no more than three days, at which time the Adonix will be used to pull me back here. As soon as I return, I will share with you all the information I have on the operation of the Adonix, including how to set location coordinates. I’m sure a dragon of your cunning will find no end to the opportunities such an artifact would give you.”
Rurik didn’t think a dragon could grin, but Embertongue’s posture seemed to convey that impression. “I believe I find your terms acceptable, wizard,” Embertongue said.
The dragon spent the next couple hours carefully moving her piles of treasure off of the Adonix platform and to a secondary location further back in the cavern. She trusted no one to help her with the work, so the others merely rested and ate. The Shadow, having completed his contractual obligation to the wizard, took his leave and disappeared (invisibly) into the shadows.
When the pedestal was finally cleared, Embertongue allowed Mr. North, Pungab, and Rurik to cross the narrow bridge. The pedestal spanned some thirty feet in diameter. Inset within the ancient stone were several other circles and patterns. Mr. North slowly walked around the perimeter, studying the grooves and notches cut in the floor. Eventually he found what he was looking for – a small circle near the edge of the pedestal.
To no one in particular, Mr. North spoke. “You see, the Adonix was created by an ancient and world-spanning empire of people called the Taurens. By accounts, there were many Adonixes, possibly one on each world they inhabited. They were created as a collaborative effort of their priesthoods, and only a priest of one of their deities can operate the device.
“None of those deities, to the best of my knowledge, are still worshipped on this world today save one: Moradin. Young Rurik here, likely the only cleric of Moradin within a hundred miles of here, will operate the Adonix.” Rurik, under his magical haze, did not feel inclined to refuse. “Rurik,” Mr. North said, “please put your hand in this circle.”
Rurik complied and placed his hand firmly in the center of the etched circle on the floor. A tingle of energy pulsed through his arm and the stone came to life at his touch. A column rose up and out of the floor some four and a half feet. The top of the column flipped about an axis, revealing a set of ten elegantly crafted dials. The control panel, as it were, seemed to be set awkwardly high for the dwarf to operate.
Embertongue’s head stretched over the controls to carefully observe the operation. Mr. North produced a scroll tube from his robes and withdrew a set of instructions he had written previously. Following his notes, the wizard told Rurik where to set each of the ten dials.
“Excellent,” Mr. North said. “Now, let’s see if the Tauren craftsmanship has endured through the ages.” The wizard stuffed his notes back into the scroll tube and handed it to Rurik. “In exactly three days’ time, you will set the controls as indicated in my notes to return me and Pungab to this Adonix. After that, I will release you from my spell and you will be free to go about your business.” Mr. North gave Embertongue a knowing look. The dragon, of course, would probably have different plans for the dwarf.
“Embertongue,” Mr. North said, “would you be so kind as to try to refrain from eating the dwarf. Perhaps you could find somewhere safe to keep him until it’s time for our return. Remember, gaining a working knowledge of how to control and target the Adonix will still require my return. Should something inadvertently happen and I am not brought back, I can assure you that I will bring my considerable resources to bear upon you at some future date, dragon.”
Embertongue bristled at the open threat, but in an unusual display of self-restraint did not strike out at the arrogant wizard. She knew who this wizard was and had no delusion as to how a confrontation would end. Someday, perhaps, the half-elf would be put in his place. Use of the Adonix would certainly go a long way toward building her power base in the meantime, Embertongue thought to herself.
“Please clear the Adonix, Embertongue,” the wizard said. The dragon leapt across the chasm and settled in to watch its activation. Mr. North and his servant Pungab moved to the center of the pedestal.
“Okay, Rurik,” Mr. North said. “Activation should be very simple. Place your hand upon the polished black stone below the controls and channel the raw power of Moradin through it.” Rurik, unable to refuse, did as he was commanded. Just as he would when turning undead, Rurik channeled raw positive energy through the stone. The inner circle of the platform instantly glowed a bright blue, which quickly intensified to a blinding white.
Just as quickly as the light had appeared, it was gone. Mr. North, the Mage of Many Colors, and his demonically armored bodyguard, had been transported away.
“Well, well,” Embertongue said. “It seems that the old device works after all. Most excellent.” Without the presence of Mr. North, Rurik again felt dragon-fear grip him.
“I suppose I must keep you alive for at least a couple days, dwarf,” Embertongue said as she leapt back to the platform of the Adonix. “I have just the place in mind to keep you out of trouble.” The dragon snatched up the dwarf in her claws and flew a short distance across the plaza.
A tiny building made entirely of stone was one of the few structures in the area that still looked to be intact. The dragon stuffed Rurik inside and then barricaded the door with several hundred pounds of stone debris from nearby ruins. Rurik took stock of the completely empty and inescapable building and sat down, dejected.
“Behave, dwarf,” Embertongue called from outside. “I might even bring you food and water in a day.”
Next session: From the Labyrinth they came.
