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Al-Qarin: Into the Desert (3-1-24)
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<blockquote data-quote="EternalNewbie" data-source="post: 9279239" data-attributes="member: 6489"><p>Khalid leaned back in his chair, mouth agape. He looked to Gorak and saw the same surprise mirrored in his grim expression. Shayla was staring down at her hands, hair covering her face, but when she looked up, her expression was unreadable. After a moment of stunned silence, Arbaq repeated, “Four hundred years ago, the human empire didn't destroy the Elven people. In fact, it could almost be said it was the other way around. As the final battle approached, the Elves saw no way to prevail over the forces arrayed against them and so called on the greatest spellweavers and lorekeepers to prepare their salvation. When the human army marched upon the capital in the heart of the Brentwood, the Elves tore open the fabric of reality and created a gateway to another realm, large enough to allow our people to escape. There may never have been a greater concentration of magical power called forth in history, save perhaps for when the Dwerro darkened the skies a year past. But as the portal grew, they lost control of the weaves. The results were catastrophic. The elves and most of the might of the human army were hurled into chaos.” He paused and drank from his wine glass to clear his throat. </p><p></p><p>“Had the Dwerro not been so fearful and sealed themselves away, they would have witnessed the damage done. Within a few short decades, the empire, destabilised by the loss of their armies and most powerful commanders, collapsed, torn apart by infighting and the greed of those that remained. But unbeknownst to all, the elves didn’t destroy themselves or their enemies.” He shook his head. “Beyond that, the story is hazy, even to me. Whether by accident or some more nefarious misfortune, some few did manage to escape, but the place they arrived at was no paradise. Having traded the frying pan for the fire as it were, all their strength was focused on maintaining a barrier between them and the chaos that pressed in from all sides.”</p><p></p><p>“So how'd you figure all this out,” Gorak growled, echoing Khalid's thoughts.</p><p></p><p>He brushed back his hair, showing them his upswept ear. “Not all the elves vanished from the world on that grim day as you well know. Some of us were left behind. Most were hunted down. But a few were able to escape detection. They kept the stories alive, as best they could. With the advantage of time provided me by my heritage, I built a vast commercial enterprise to fund my search for the truth. Decades and a fortune spent, the likes of which you can't even imagine. But I found them!” The stoic mask was gone now. He leaned forward in his chair, his face and hands more animated and a note of fervour in his voice. “Not only that, but possibly a means to bring them back!”</p><p></p><p>“And to do that, you needed adamantine,” Khalid interjected.</p><p></p><p>“Yes! It's the only material strong enough to bear the forces required. But I miscalculated. I need more. Or the means to work what little I have with greater refinement.”</p><p></p><p>“Yet, all we brought you were unsubstantiated rumours,” Khalid replied despondently.</p><p></p><p>Arbaq sighed. “I've followed thinner threads before. But we're running out of time.”</p><p></p><p>“Why?” Gorak grunted. “They've been in there four hunnert years, what's a few more?”</p><p></p><p>“Those cursed Dwerro,” Arbaq spat. “They've damned us twice. First through cowardice and second through ignorance. Whatever they did in the mountains to kick off their grand armee, threw everything out of balance. It severed magick and the gods from this world, and cast free the anchor that held the Elves from drifting into chaos. Where once I might have had decades, now that time is measured in years if not months. If we don't free them soon, they'll be truly lost.”</p><p></p><p>“So do we have any options?” Shayla asked, speaking for the first time in several minutes.</p><p></p><p>“We always have options,” Arbaq replied, “but none of them are particularly good. I must think upon what you have told me tonight. In the meantime, I'll set my smiths to work, insomuch as they can test out your theories on forging adamantine. You, of course, have the run of my estate, just inform me if you plan to depart.”</p><p></p><p>Khalid waved the comment away. “Ah, I for one, have no desire to wander the streets of Gem-Sharad. I have several tomes from the library of Martok to keep me occupied. Yes, quite.”</p><p></p><p>Gorak grunted in agreement. “Probably best if we stay close. Any chance you got a good leatherworker on yer payroll?”</p><p></p><p>“No,” Arbaq replied. “But I know of several. What do you need?”</p><p></p><p>“Bring me the best,” Gorak rumbled, pulling out one of the dragon scales from the magical haversack. “He’s gonna make me a suit of armour unlike any he’s made before.</p><p></p><p>“Magnificient,” Arbaq marvelled, examining the scale. Dark blue, fading to white at tip, it almost seemed to glow from within as he held it beneath the magical lamp on his desk.* “I know someone suitable indeed. A master among masters, here in Gem-Shard. He will jump at the chance to craft a masterpiece from this.</p><p></p><p>“Well I ain’t got no fancy dragon feathers to cover my cod,” Azarek rasped. “But send me one of them smiths you were talking about. Saving Khalid’s sorry hide got me more than a few dents I need banged out.”</p><p></p><p>Arbaq nodded, “The captain of the guard can assist you with that. There’s a forge in the armoury and men with the skill to repair your kit.” With that, they departed for their rooms, leaving Arbaq deep in thought.</p><p></p><p>Safe within the confines of Arbaq’s gated mansion and guarded by his best mercenaries, Khalid felt comfortable enough to risk a night’s sleep in a bed, rather than the security of his pocket dimension. Ensconced in luxury he hadn’t known in months, he quickly fell deeply asleep. A disturbance outside his window woke him in what he judged was early afternoon, from the bright sunlight filtering in through the curtains. Poking his head outside, he saw Gorak rummaging around in the garden. Pulling on a robe, he joined him outside and found Shayla sitting at the base of a tree, absently eating a peach plucked from above while she watched him work. </p><p></p><p>“Ah, Gorak, I would have thought it would be a week at least, yes quite, before you were bored enough to take up landscaping.”</p><p></p><p>Whatever his reply, it was lost beneath the sound of the burbling creek he straddled, and judging from the look he shot Khalid, he was better off not hearing it. Gorak dropped another stone into the creek, and stepped back, watching as the water began to pool behind his makeshift dam.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, yes,” Khalid turned to Shayla. “What’s he searching for?” he asked, recognizing the spell he was about to cast.</p><p></p><p>“We’re in Gem-Sharad,” Shayla replied quietly, not taking her eyes off Gorak. “Who do you think he’s looking for?”</p><p></p><p>She had barely begun to speak when Khalid realized the answer to his question. Magol. Gorak was going to try and find Magol again. Chewing nervously on his lower lip, Khalid squatted down on his heels beside her.</p><p></p><p>When he judged the gathering pool to be of sufficient size, Gorak settled down on his knees and began to chant the ritual. Completing the spell, he reached out and brushed the surface of the pool with his fingers, leaving behind a streak of ice that rapidly grew in a disk several feet across. Khalid held his breath as Gorak stared intently at the ice, willing the vision to manifest. A moment later, the ice turned pitch black. With a curse, Gorak slammed his fist into the ice, shattering it. Kicking at the rocks of his makeshift dam to free water, he stalked off to the other side of Arbaq’s garden, leaving the two of them behind.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, what happened?” Khalid asked, confusedly. “Did the spell fail?”</p><p></p><p>Flicking the peach pit into the bushes, Shayla wiped her hands on her pants and stood up. “It didn’t fail Khalid. If it failed, he’d try again.” She sighed. “It didn’t work because Magol is dead.”</p><p></p><p>Khalid didn’t want to acknowledge the fact but he knew she was right. Halaal wouldn’t have had any more use for him, once they fled the city. He decided to give Gorak a wide berth for the next few days. Khalid felt some small twinge of guilt at this part in Magol’s demise, although he had long since convinced himself he was nothing more than an innocent victim in Halaal’s schemes. </p><p></p><p>As he so often did, Khalid found respite in his studies. He alternated between his magical research and translating the Dwerro tomes he’d stolen from Martok. Unlocking the secrets of telepathy had opened several exciting new possibilities to him, and he felt he was close to unlocking several new formulae. The Dwerro books were almost as interesting. In his search for the secret of forging adamantine, he’d come across a trove of books detailing the art of fusing magical weaves into mundane items. He had puzzled out the basics of the theory and soon felt confident enough to try it on Azarek’s repaired armour, binding the joints with magical weaves and improving its defence against attacks. His first attempt a success, he began to consider other possibilities beyond the simple enhancement of arms and armor. </p><p></p><p>Immersed in his work, Khalid barely noticed the passing days, until Gorak sought him out. “Gather up yer stuff,” Gorak grumbled. “I gotta head out inta the desert and I might need ya.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, yes, of course, Gorak,” Khalid replied. “When are we leaving.”</p><p></p><p>"Didn't I just tell you to grab yer stuff?” he replied. “Meet us out front. Bring Azarek if he wants ta come.”</p><p></p><p>Not willing to provoke Gorak’s ire, Khalid informed Azarek of their plans and hastily gathered up his things. He met the others out near the front of the mansion but with the prospect of running into some of Halaal’s presumably more competent henchmen by venturing into Gem-Sharad, Khalid suggested they leave individually, by the side gate. He also borrowed Shayla’s magical earring to conceal his appearance, while she covered her distinctive features with a heavy veil. His fears unfounded, they regrouped near the eastern gate of the city, continuing on foot for several more miles until Khalid judged it safe enough to summon mounts for them all. </p><p></p><p>With no real idea of what they were doing, Khalid followed Gorak into the desert. They picked a tack that Khalid judged would lead them close to the tribe’s camp, but not directly to it. As the sun began to set, Gorak seemed to be searching the horizon, until he finally pulled his horse up, and dismounted. “This’ll do,” he grunted. “Gimme some space and don’t interrupt me. Yer just here in case things go sideways and I need help getting back to the city.”</p><p></p><p>They moved a little way apart from him, as he set up four charcoal braziers in front of him in a square, each four feet from the other. Filling them from a pouch at his hip, he muttered the words to a spell, and lit them. Settling to his knees, facing the rapidly setting sun, he sat in quiet meditation for some time. Khalid watched nervously, now having an inkling of what was to come. </p><p></p><p>Gorak began to chant in his low baritone, starting the ritual. The smoke from the braziers stopped drifting into the desert air and gathered around him instead. Even at distance, Khalid could see the strain on his body, as his muscles tensed and sweat rolled down his scarred back. Swaying slightly with the rhythm of the words, he increased the tempo slowly raising his hands above his head. With a sharp motion, he plunged his hands down into the sand in the center of the square formed by the braziers, words of power continuing to roll from his lips in an indecipherable growl. </p><p></p><p>He held that pose for a moment then jerked forward, bent almost double, as though something deep within the sand had seized hold of him and pulled him down. The thick muscles in his shoulders heaved and bunched as he resisted. His chant rose to a shout and the words tumbled without flaw from his lips despite the raging physical struggle, made worse by his position, kneeling with his forehead almost touching the sand. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he leaned back, drawing his arms from the ground, his undauntable strength beginning to prevail against the invisible foe. When they emerged from the sand, locked in his hands were another pair, gripping him tightly. Khalid watched, overcome with awe much as he was the first time, when Gorak reached into the nether and brought back Shayla to them.</p><p></p><p>Surging to his feet, Gorak continued to drag the figure from the coalescing sand. As he stood, the shoulders and head of a man appeared, thrashing and struggling to free himself from the grasping earth. Dust and grit poured off the creature, becoming long black dreadlocks. Gorak took a huge breath, pulling in the smoke that hung in the air around him and breathed it all out, directly into the forming features of the creature in front of him. It coughed and choked, spitting out clumps of sand around thick ivory tusks. With one final heave, Gorak pulled the spirit of Magol back into the mortal realm.</p><p></p><p>Much like Shayla, his appearance was altered. He towered over Gorak now, his hard Orcish features now more feral and brutish, if such a thing were possible. Gone were the long dreads, replaced by a mane of shaggy fur that extended down his back. His skin, once darker than even Gorak’s, was now the colour of the desert sand, and his eyes were almost pure white, with only the barish trace of a pupil. His tell-tale scar was gone as were his long tusks, and yet there was no question it was Magol. He looked around wildly, desperately trying to make sense of his surroundings. Gorak grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look right at him, locking his gaze. Magol reacted instinctively, seizing him by the upper arms and suddenly Khalid was thrown back to that night so long ago, in the camp of Gorak’s tribe. Gorak held him still, powerful muscles trembling under the strain as his father jerked and twitched. The tormented expression on Magol’s face made it clear that he was undergoing a mental struggle that far surpassed the physical one. Then, Gorak lunged upward, cracking his forehead hard against his fathers. Magol, stunned for a moment, blinked twice and then shook his head, awareness rising up through the confusion. “You brought me back from that place,” Magol whispered, his voice hoarse.</p><p></p><p>“You owe me fifty gold for that Hatori egg, old man,” Gorak growled with a fierce grin, releasing his hold. “And a trip to hell ain’t gonna settle that debt unless I’m the one that sends ya there.”</p><p></p><p>Magol laughed. A low, rumbling chuckle that became a bellowing roar as he turned his head up to the heavens, and the canopy of a million stars that greeted his return. He flexed his jaw, running his tongue over his sharpened teeth, before reaching up to run his hands across his face. “And you brought me back ugly,” he growled with a grin. “Yer Ma ain’t gonna like that too much.”**</p><p></p><p>“Oh, I think it suits you just fine” Shayla replied dryly.</p><p></p><p>Magol grinned at her, spreading his huge, powerfully muscled arms apart, “Ugly,” he repeated. “But big. Can’t complain about that. Kinda miss the tusks tho, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”</p><p></p><p>They remained camped in the desert for the few days it took Gorak to recover from the casting. Khalid, once again awed by the spectacle, tread lightly around Gorak. These feats of Gorak's always served to put in perspective his own magical aptitude and its many limitations, as happy as he was for Gorak to have his father back. He watched Magol carefully, if discreetly, curious to determine the impact his absence had on his personality. He seemed to be regaining his memory quickly enough, and was almost as raucous and crude as Khalid remembered. Almost. Around the edges of his actions, Khalid thought he detected...something else. The way he looked at Gorak now, was not the fondness of a father for a son; not that Magol had ever showed much of that anyhow, but now there was something else. Reverance perhaps; what Azarek had once called, “belief”. It was unnerving on the whole, and Khalid made a point to avoid him, and the subject entirely.</p><p></p><p>Parting ways on the morning of the third day, the group headed back to Gem-Sharad, while Magol returned to his camp. Khalid was uncertain of the welcome he would receive, having some idea of the unstable power structure of Orcish tribes, but Magol and Gorak seemed unconcerned. Finally, common decency overcame his innate shame, and he broached the subject with Gorak as they settled into their magical shelter. “Ah, I know what you sacrificed for me, so many months ago in Gem-Sharad,” Khalid began. “I’m glad, yes, glad Magol didn’t have to pay an eternal price for my cowardice.”</p><p></p><p>‘I never blamed you,” Gorak grumbled. “Halaal dealt you a shyte hand and there weren’t much you coulda done about that, even if you did manage to smear a little bit on us too,’ he added with a grin. He turned sober again. “Ta be honest, that shouldn’t have worked. That ritual usually requires casting right after death, before the energy of the spirit returns to the ether. But what Shayla described after them Dwerro killed her got me to thinking.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, but what does it mean,” Khalid asked.</p><p></p><p>Gorak shrugged. “Other than everything’s all buggered up? If I had ta guess, breaking open whatever’s trapping those souls might restore power to the lost gods, but who knows what’ll it do ta the elves.”</p><p></p><p>Khalid sighed. “I feel as though the more we learn, the less, yes, less we know about anything. We’re still just blundering about in the dark.</p><p></p><p>“Just like always,” Shayla replied.</p><p></p><p>They returned to the city, disguising themselves as best they could while making their way back to Arbaq’s estate. Khalid settled back into his research, and with Shayla’s aid, crafted several artifacts that boosted his concentration, and Shayla’s ability to channel. Gorak spent most of his time with the leatherworker crafting his armor, while Arazek amused himself sparring with the guards in the courtyard. Free from the stress of the road, and lost in his work, he was jolted back to reality when a servant knocked gently on his door, summoning him to a meeting with Arbaq.</p><p></p><p>He met Gorak and Shayla waiting outside Arbaq’s study. Gorak was wearing his newly crafted set of dragon scale armor, overlapping white scales on his shoulders darkening to a deep blue in a v-shape down his chest, belted at the waist and extending down to his upper thighs. </p><p></p><p>“Still chafes a bit,” he replied to Shayla, “but I’m getting it worked in.” He nodded to Khalid. “Magic it up for me?” he grunted.</p><p></p><p>“Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid agreed. “I’ve got the hang, yes, hang of the process now. It’s a bit taxing on me but I have the resources to complete it. Ah, I should be able, yes, able to get started tomorrow.</p><p></p><p>The door opened, and a servant bearing an arm load of documents motioned for them to enter as he hurried away down the hall. Arbaq was sitting at his desk, and gestured at three chairs across from him.</p><p></p><p>“Your smiths make any progress,” Gorak rumbled, skipping the customary pleasantries.</p><p></p><p>Arbaq, unflapable as always, replied, “Not much I’m afraid. The metal is stubborn to work with, and even with the information you provided me, there is a distinct lack of both Dwerro blood and magma in Gem-Sharad. I have sent agents to the mountain pass; it’s possible Malakai had access to lava within the mountain. In truth, I doubt their chance of success however, at either capturing a Dwerro, or gaining access to Malakai’s forge. There are possibly other suitable places along the mountain range, but they will be difficult and time consuming to access.</p><p></p><p>“So what’s our next move?” Shayla asked.</p><p></p><p>“This was brought to my attention recently, and is the reason I summoned you here,” he replied. “Where did I put it...” he muttered under his breath as he opened a series of drawers on his enormous writing desk. “Aha,” he pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment and handed it to Gorak. </p><p></p><p>Gorak scanned the document before handing it over to Khalid. “You know that's a trap, right?” he growled.</p><p></p><p>Khalid read the details. An offer to sell 3 bars of refined adamantine, for 10,000 gold each, with the exchange happening at a remote location in the mountains. A note at the bottom indicated the letter had come with a small sliver of metal attached. He passed it on to Shayla.</p><p></p><p>“My alchemist verified it, the metal matched the sample we had. It's adamantine.”</p><p></p><p>“I mean, I'm with Gorak,” Shayla said after she finished reading. “That has trap written all over it. It’s Malakai for sure and he’s not even being subtle about it anymore.”</p><p></p><p>Arbaq nodded. ‘There was an attempt to conceal its origins, but you’d be foolish to think otherwise.”</p><p></p><p>“Still,” Gorak rumbled. “He’s been dogging us since our first run in and it’s clear he ain’t gonna give up.” Khalid, perfectly content to never cross paths with the fat goblin again, had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he knew what was coming next. “Might be worth it just to put an end to it,” Gorak continued with a smirk. “And who knows, maybe that fat bastard is just dumb enough to bring a sample of the goods to lure us in.”</p><p></p><p>Khalid sighed. Back into the mountains, once again.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * * * * * * * * *</p><p></p><p>* Ret-conning a bit here. In the post with the dragon, I had described it as a hybrid blue-green, it was actually blue-white.</p><p></p><p>** Gorak spent almost all of his character points here. We don't exactly recall what the original roll was, but it was something pretty inappropriate like an elf. He was hoping to get him back as an Orc but the cost was 1pt per 1% shift on the table, so Bugbear was as good as he could get. Shayla really lucked out on her roll.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="EternalNewbie, post: 9279239, member: 6489"] Khalid leaned back in his chair, mouth agape. He looked to Gorak and saw the same surprise mirrored in his grim expression. Shayla was staring down at her hands, hair covering her face, but when she looked up, her expression was unreadable. After a moment of stunned silence, Arbaq repeated, “Four hundred years ago, the human empire didn't destroy the Elven people. In fact, it could almost be said it was the other way around. As the final battle approached, the Elves saw no way to prevail over the forces arrayed against them and so called on the greatest spellweavers and lorekeepers to prepare their salvation. When the human army marched upon the capital in the heart of the Brentwood, the Elves tore open the fabric of reality and created a gateway to another realm, large enough to allow our people to escape. There may never have been a greater concentration of magical power called forth in history, save perhaps for when the Dwerro darkened the skies a year past. But as the portal grew, they lost control of the weaves. The results were catastrophic. The elves and most of the might of the human army were hurled into chaos.” He paused and drank from his wine glass to clear his throat. “Had the Dwerro not been so fearful and sealed themselves away, they would have witnessed the damage done. Within a few short decades, the empire, destabilised by the loss of their armies and most powerful commanders, collapsed, torn apart by infighting and the greed of those that remained. But unbeknownst to all, the elves didn’t destroy themselves or their enemies.” He shook his head. “Beyond that, the story is hazy, even to me. Whether by accident or some more nefarious misfortune, some few did manage to escape, but the place they arrived at was no paradise. Having traded the frying pan for the fire as it were, all their strength was focused on maintaining a barrier between them and the chaos that pressed in from all sides.” “So how'd you figure all this out,” Gorak growled, echoing Khalid's thoughts. He brushed back his hair, showing them his upswept ear. “Not all the elves vanished from the world on that grim day as you well know. Some of us were left behind. Most were hunted down. But a few were able to escape detection. They kept the stories alive, as best they could. With the advantage of time provided me by my heritage, I built a vast commercial enterprise to fund my search for the truth. Decades and a fortune spent, the likes of which you can't even imagine. But I found them!” The stoic mask was gone now. He leaned forward in his chair, his face and hands more animated and a note of fervour in his voice. “Not only that, but possibly a means to bring them back!” “And to do that, you needed adamantine,” Khalid interjected. “Yes! It's the only material strong enough to bear the forces required. But I miscalculated. I need more. Or the means to work what little I have with greater refinement.” “Yet, all we brought you were unsubstantiated rumours,” Khalid replied despondently. Arbaq sighed. “I've followed thinner threads before. But we're running out of time.” “Why?” Gorak grunted. “They've been in there four hunnert years, what's a few more?” “Those cursed Dwerro,” Arbaq spat. “They've damned us twice. First through cowardice and second through ignorance. Whatever they did in the mountains to kick off their grand armee, threw everything out of balance. It severed magick and the gods from this world, and cast free the anchor that held the Elves from drifting into chaos. Where once I might have had decades, now that time is measured in years if not months. If we don't free them soon, they'll be truly lost.” “So do we have any options?” Shayla asked, speaking for the first time in several minutes. “We always have options,” Arbaq replied, “but none of them are particularly good. I must think upon what you have told me tonight. In the meantime, I'll set my smiths to work, insomuch as they can test out your theories on forging adamantine. You, of course, have the run of my estate, just inform me if you plan to depart.” Khalid waved the comment away. “Ah, I for one, have no desire to wander the streets of Gem-Sharad. I have several tomes from the library of Martok to keep me occupied. Yes, quite.” Gorak grunted in agreement. “Probably best if we stay close. Any chance you got a good leatherworker on yer payroll?” “No,” Arbaq replied. “But I know of several. What do you need?” “Bring me the best,” Gorak rumbled, pulling out one of the dragon scales from the magical haversack. “He’s gonna make me a suit of armour unlike any he’s made before. “Magnificient,” Arbaq marvelled, examining the scale. Dark blue, fading to white at tip, it almost seemed to glow from within as he held it beneath the magical lamp on his desk.* “I know someone suitable indeed. A master among masters, here in Gem-Shard. He will jump at the chance to craft a masterpiece from this. “Well I ain’t got no fancy dragon feathers to cover my cod,” Azarek rasped. “But send me one of them smiths you were talking about. Saving Khalid’s sorry hide got me more than a few dents I need banged out.” Arbaq nodded, “The captain of the guard can assist you with that. There’s a forge in the armoury and men with the skill to repair your kit.” With that, they departed for their rooms, leaving Arbaq deep in thought. Safe within the confines of Arbaq’s gated mansion and guarded by his best mercenaries, Khalid felt comfortable enough to risk a night’s sleep in a bed, rather than the security of his pocket dimension. Ensconced in luxury he hadn’t known in months, he quickly fell deeply asleep. A disturbance outside his window woke him in what he judged was early afternoon, from the bright sunlight filtering in through the curtains. Poking his head outside, he saw Gorak rummaging around in the garden. Pulling on a robe, he joined him outside and found Shayla sitting at the base of a tree, absently eating a peach plucked from above while she watched him work. “Ah, Gorak, I would have thought it would be a week at least, yes quite, before you were bored enough to take up landscaping.” Whatever his reply, it was lost beneath the sound of the burbling creek he straddled, and judging from the look he shot Khalid, he was better off not hearing it. Gorak dropped another stone into the creek, and stepped back, watching as the water began to pool behind his makeshift dam. “Ah, yes,” Khalid turned to Shayla. “What’s he searching for?” he asked, recognizing the spell he was about to cast. “We’re in Gem-Sharad,” Shayla replied quietly, not taking her eyes off Gorak. “Who do you think he’s looking for?” She had barely begun to speak when Khalid realized the answer to his question. Magol. Gorak was going to try and find Magol again. Chewing nervously on his lower lip, Khalid squatted down on his heels beside her. When he judged the gathering pool to be of sufficient size, Gorak settled down on his knees and began to chant the ritual. Completing the spell, he reached out and brushed the surface of the pool with his fingers, leaving behind a streak of ice that rapidly grew in a disk several feet across. Khalid held his breath as Gorak stared intently at the ice, willing the vision to manifest. A moment later, the ice turned pitch black. With a curse, Gorak slammed his fist into the ice, shattering it. Kicking at the rocks of his makeshift dam to free water, he stalked off to the other side of Arbaq’s garden, leaving the two of them behind. “Ah, what happened?” Khalid asked, confusedly. “Did the spell fail?” Flicking the peach pit into the bushes, Shayla wiped her hands on her pants and stood up. “It didn’t fail Khalid. If it failed, he’d try again.” She sighed. “It didn’t work because Magol is dead.” Khalid didn’t want to acknowledge the fact but he knew she was right. Halaal wouldn’t have had any more use for him, once they fled the city. He decided to give Gorak a wide berth for the next few days. Khalid felt some small twinge of guilt at this part in Magol’s demise, although he had long since convinced himself he was nothing more than an innocent victim in Halaal’s schemes. As he so often did, Khalid found respite in his studies. He alternated between his magical research and translating the Dwerro tomes he’d stolen from Martok. Unlocking the secrets of telepathy had opened several exciting new possibilities to him, and he felt he was close to unlocking several new formulae. The Dwerro books were almost as interesting. In his search for the secret of forging adamantine, he’d come across a trove of books detailing the art of fusing magical weaves into mundane items. He had puzzled out the basics of the theory and soon felt confident enough to try it on Azarek’s repaired armour, binding the joints with magical weaves and improving its defence against attacks. His first attempt a success, he began to consider other possibilities beyond the simple enhancement of arms and armor. Immersed in his work, Khalid barely noticed the passing days, until Gorak sought him out. “Gather up yer stuff,” Gorak grumbled. “I gotta head out inta the desert and I might need ya.” “Ah, yes, of course, Gorak,” Khalid replied. “When are we leaving.” "Didn't I just tell you to grab yer stuff?” he replied. “Meet us out front. Bring Azarek if he wants ta come.” Not willing to provoke Gorak’s ire, Khalid informed Azarek of their plans and hastily gathered up his things. He met the others out near the front of the mansion but with the prospect of running into some of Halaal’s presumably more competent henchmen by venturing into Gem-Sharad, Khalid suggested they leave individually, by the side gate. He also borrowed Shayla’s magical earring to conceal his appearance, while she covered her distinctive features with a heavy veil. His fears unfounded, they regrouped near the eastern gate of the city, continuing on foot for several more miles until Khalid judged it safe enough to summon mounts for them all. With no real idea of what they were doing, Khalid followed Gorak into the desert. They picked a tack that Khalid judged would lead them close to the tribe’s camp, but not directly to it. As the sun began to set, Gorak seemed to be searching the horizon, until he finally pulled his horse up, and dismounted. “This’ll do,” he grunted. “Gimme some space and don’t interrupt me. Yer just here in case things go sideways and I need help getting back to the city.” They moved a little way apart from him, as he set up four charcoal braziers in front of him in a square, each four feet from the other. Filling them from a pouch at his hip, he muttered the words to a spell, and lit them. Settling to his knees, facing the rapidly setting sun, he sat in quiet meditation for some time. Khalid watched nervously, now having an inkling of what was to come. Gorak began to chant in his low baritone, starting the ritual. The smoke from the braziers stopped drifting into the desert air and gathered around him instead. Even at distance, Khalid could see the strain on his body, as his muscles tensed and sweat rolled down his scarred back. Swaying slightly with the rhythm of the words, he increased the tempo slowly raising his hands above his head. With a sharp motion, he plunged his hands down into the sand in the center of the square formed by the braziers, words of power continuing to roll from his lips in an indecipherable growl. He held that pose for a moment then jerked forward, bent almost double, as though something deep within the sand had seized hold of him and pulled him down. The thick muscles in his shoulders heaved and bunched as he resisted. His chant rose to a shout and the words tumbled without flaw from his lips despite the raging physical struggle, made worse by his position, kneeling with his forehead almost touching the sand. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he leaned back, drawing his arms from the ground, his undauntable strength beginning to prevail against the invisible foe. When they emerged from the sand, locked in his hands were another pair, gripping him tightly. Khalid watched, overcome with awe much as he was the first time, when Gorak reached into the nether and brought back Shayla to them. Surging to his feet, Gorak continued to drag the figure from the coalescing sand. As he stood, the shoulders and head of a man appeared, thrashing and struggling to free himself from the grasping earth. Dust and grit poured off the creature, becoming long black dreadlocks. Gorak took a huge breath, pulling in the smoke that hung in the air around him and breathed it all out, directly into the forming features of the creature in front of him. It coughed and choked, spitting out clumps of sand around thick ivory tusks. With one final heave, Gorak pulled the spirit of Magol back into the mortal realm. Much like Shayla, his appearance was altered. He towered over Gorak now, his hard Orcish features now more feral and brutish, if such a thing were possible. Gone were the long dreads, replaced by a mane of shaggy fur that extended down his back. His skin, once darker than even Gorak’s, was now the colour of the desert sand, and his eyes were almost pure white, with only the barish trace of a pupil. His tell-tale scar was gone as were his long tusks, and yet there was no question it was Magol. He looked around wildly, desperately trying to make sense of his surroundings. Gorak grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look right at him, locking his gaze. Magol reacted instinctively, seizing him by the upper arms and suddenly Khalid was thrown back to that night so long ago, in the camp of Gorak’s tribe. Gorak held him still, powerful muscles trembling under the strain as his father jerked and twitched. The tormented expression on Magol’s face made it clear that he was undergoing a mental struggle that far surpassed the physical one. Then, Gorak lunged upward, cracking his forehead hard against his fathers. Magol, stunned for a moment, blinked twice and then shook his head, awareness rising up through the confusion. “You brought me back from that place,” Magol whispered, his voice hoarse. “You owe me fifty gold for that Hatori egg, old man,” Gorak growled with a fierce grin, releasing his hold. “And a trip to hell ain’t gonna settle that debt unless I’m the one that sends ya there.” Magol laughed. A low, rumbling chuckle that became a bellowing roar as he turned his head up to the heavens, and the canopy of a million stars that greeted his return. He flexed his jaw, running his tongue over his sharpened teeth, before reaching up to run his hands across his face. “And you brought me back ugly,” he growled with a grin. “Yer Ma ain’t gonna like that too much.”** “Oh, I think it suits you just fine” Shayla replied dryly. Magol grinned at her, spreading his huge, powerfully muscled arms apart, “Ugly,” he repeated. “But big. Can’t complain about that. Kinda miss the tusks tho, that’s gonna take some getting used to.” They remained camped in the desert for the few days it took Gorak to recover from the casting. Khalid, once again awed by the spectacle, tread lightly around Gorak. These feats of Gorak's always served to put in perspective his own magical aptitude and its many limitations, as happy as he was for Gorak to have his father back. He watched Magol carefully, if discreetly, curious to determine the impact his absence had on his personality. He seemed to be regaining his memory quickly enough, and was almost as raucous and crude as Khalid remembered. Almost. Around the edges of his actions, Khalid thought he detected...something else. The way he looked at Gorak now, was not the fondness of a father for a son; not that Magol had ever showed much of that anyhow, but now there was something else. Reverance perhaps; what Azarek had once called, “belief”. It was unnerving on the whole, and Khalid made a point to avoid him, and the subject entirely. Parting ways on the morning of the third day, the group headed back to Gem-Sharad, while Magol returned to his camp. Khalid was uncertain of the welcome he would receive, having some idea of the unstable power structure of Orcish tribes, but Magol and Gorak seemed unconcerned. Finally, common decency overcame his innate shame, and he broached the subject with Gorak as they settled into their magical shelter. “Ah, I know what you sacrificed for me, so many months ago in Gem-Sharad,” Khalid began. “I’m glad, yes, glad Magol didn’t have to pay an eternal price for my cowardice.” ‘I never blamed you,” Gorak grumbled. “Halaal dealt you a shyte hand and there weren’t much you coulda done about that, even if you did manage to smear a little bit on us too,’ he added with a grin. He turned sober again. “Ta be honest, that shouldn’t have worked. That ritual usually requires casting right after death, before the energy of the spirit returns to the ether. But what Shayla described after them Dwerro killed her got me to thinking.” “Ah, but what does it mean,” Khalid asked. Gorak shrugged. “Other than everything’s all buggered up? If I had ta guess, breaking open whatever’s trapping those souls might restore power to the lost gods, but who knows what’ll it do ta the elves.” Khalid sighed. “I feel as though the more we learn, the less, yes, less we know about anything. We’re still just blundering about in the dark. “Just like always,” Shayla replied. They returned to the city, disguising themselves as best they could while making their way back to Arbaq’s estate. Khalid settled back into his research, and with Shayla’s aid, crafted several artifacts that boosted his concentration, and Shayla’s ability to channel. Gorak spent most of his time with the leatherworker crafting his armor, while Arazek amused himself sparring with the guards in the courtyard. Free from the stress of the road, and lost in his work, he was jolted back to reality when a servant knocked gently on his door, summoning him to a meeting with Arbaq. He met Gorak and Shayla waiting outside Arbaq’s study. Gorak was wearing his newly crafted set of dragon scale armor, overlapping white scales on his shoulders darkening to a deep blue in a v-shape down his chest, belted at the waist and extending down to his upper thighs. “Still chafes a bit,” he replied to Shayla, “but I’m getting it worked in.” He nodded to Khalid. “Magic it up for me?” he grunted. “Ah, yes, quite,” Khalid agreed. “I’ve got the hang, yes, hang of the process now. It’s a bit taxing on me but I have the resources to complete it. Ah, I should be able, yes, able to get started tomorrow. The door opened, and a servant bearing an arm load of documents motioned for them to enter as he hurried away down the hall. Arbaq was sitting at his desk, and gestured at three chairs across from him. “Your smiths make any progress,” Gorak rumbled, skipping the customary pleasantries. Arbaq, unflapable as always, replied, “Not much I’m afraid. The metal is stubborn to work with, and even with the information you provided me, there is a distinct lack of both Dwerro blood and magma in Gem-Sharad. I have sent agents to the mountain pass; it’s possible Malakai had access to lava within the mountain. In truth, I doubt their chance of success however, at either capturing a Dwerro, or gaining access to Malakai’s forge. There are possibly other suitable places along the mountain range, but they will be difficult and time consuming to access. “So what’s our next move?” Shayla asked. “This was brought to my attention recently, and is the reason I summoned you here,” he replied. “Where did I put it...” he muttered under his breath as he opened a series of drawers on his enormous writing desk. “Aha,” he pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment and handed it to Gorak. Gorak scanned the document before handing it over to Khalid. “You know that's a trap, right?” he growled. Khalid read the details. An offer to sell 3 bars of refined adamantine, for 10,000 gold each, with the exchange happening at a remote location in the mountains. A note at the bottom indicated the letter had come with a small sliver of metal attached. He passed it on to Shayla. “My alchemist verified it, the metal matched the sample we had. It's adamantine.” “I mean, I'm with Gorak,” Shayla said after she finished reading. “That has trap written all over it. It’s Malakai for sure and he’s not even being subtle about it anymore.” Arbaq nodded. ‘There was an attempt to conceal its origins, but you’d be foolish to think otherwise.” “Still,” Gorak rumbled. “He’s been dogging us since our first run in and it’s clear he ain’t gonna give up.” Khalid, perfectly content to never cross paths with the fat goblin again, had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he knew what was coming next. “Might be worth it just to put an end to it,” Gorak continued with a smirk. “And who knows, maybe that fat bastard is just dumb enough to bring a sample of the goods to lure us in.” Khalid sighed. Back into the mountains, once again. [CENTER]* * * * * * * * * *[/CENTER] * Ret-conning a bit here. In the post with the dragon, I had described it as a hybrid blue-green, it was actually blue-white. ** Gorak spent almost all of his character points here. We don't exactly recall what the original roll was, but it was something pretty inappropriate like an elf. He was hoping to get him back as an Orc but the cost was 1pt per 1% shift on the table, so Bugbear was as good as he could get. Shayla really lucked out on her roll. [/QUOTE]
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Al-Qarin: Into the Desert (3-1-24)
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